#there were lots of different things from a single red rose to whole apartment complex sets

[claitea]

look at this cool thing i bought and built today :)

[neonponders]

I’ve never written Murder Boyfriends before, but @cuepickle ‘s art is just so lovely and powerful.

Based on this and this 💗 💜 🖤 (impending smut ahoy)

• • • • • • •

I just want to help, he’d said.

I just want to make things right, he’d said.

Steve said a lot of things. But he moaned incoherent words and exclaimed sounds he didn’t want anyone else to hear when Billy Hargrove steamrolled into his life, his feelings, and his goddamn morals.

Billy Hargrove wasn’t...right. He was twelve different shades of wrong, punctuated by Caribbean blue eyes and decorated with bronzed waves and curls. Steve knew he had a superiority complex, but he hadn’t known it was this bad.

Thing is, if he’d known, Steve couldn’t guarantee whether he’d change anything. Because knowing Billy Hargrove is a murderer would also mean Steve knew what his lips tasted like, and their softness against his neck.

All Steve had known was that Sheriff Hopper was missing, and his parents, being the upstanding white people that they are, deferred nearly every inconvenience to the police. And the police answered, because fat wallets keep their lights on, like everyone else.

But the Sheriff’s phones kept ringing. And maybe Steve had his own complex after so much time with Nancy, because he parked out front and strolled right into the Sheriff’s office.

The secretary wasn’t there.

Neither were the two deputies.

Steve tucked himself between the desks to pry apart the window blinds. Their cars were still here -

Steve’s head rotated at a sound he knew. He knew it in the way a memory piqued but he couldn’t place where or why. He followed it into the chief’s office...where Billy Hargrove sat at the desk - Hopper’s own chair - and ate a crisp apple from the strange pile in the waste paper basket.

“Billy?”

“Hi, Steve,” he smiled. Ankles crossed on the desk. A perfect, violet crescent framed the side of his eye. An indigo shadow rested in the inner corner of the other one. Either way, Steve’s first red flag was that he ached with concern more than itched for the nailed bat in his trunk.

“What happened to you?”

Steve thought the guy might choke, the way he tipped his head back to laugh while chunks of apple sat in his mouth. Naturally, it took him some time to chew and swallow before he said, “I finally stopped being afraid. And I started being responsible. Not the way he planned, though.”

“Hopper?” Steve frowned.

Billy did not answer immediately. He licked the apple like it might drip juice and beckoned, “Why don’t you sit down? I want to see you.”

The only lights on were in the main room where Steve stood. Ghoulish, fluorescent bulbs while Billy sat in shadow and vague, evening light hatching through the Chief’s window blinds. There was some kind of irony there: Steve in the fake, green-tinged light, and Billy in the natural...honest darkness.

Steve peeked behind him, surveying the room but finding no warnings apart from the negative space where people should be.

He stepped into the office -

“I’ve always liked looking at you.”

Steve paused on the carpet. Billy had said it loud enough to hear, but with enough air in it that Steve couldn’t tell if he was drunk or hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Then he tried to sit in one of the chairs -

“Over here. Sit on the desk.”

“What?” Steve blinked at him, suddenly very aware that the light gave Billy full view of his face but Steve only got the glow in that dark blond hair.

A strong leg pushed Billy away from the desk. The apple tumbled onto its pile of brothers, discarded as he pat the desk. “Sit right here.”

Steve shook his head all at once, beginning to backpedal out of the room. “This is weird.”

“No shit. This whole town’s weird. I’ve been reading some personal files in this room. I guess the Chief thought he was being smart, but...I’ve been hiding my whole life. I know where people hide things. A lot of things make sense in this place, now. The rat pack Max hangs out with. And you. A lot of things makes sense about you, Steve.”

Steve shrugged and his hands clapped against his thighs. “Okay? You’re not special for seeing my report cards.”

Billy’s features froze, but only for a moment, and then laughter burst out of him. “Steve, please sit down. God, I wanna touch you.”

Steve Harrington is a simple person. He’d officially been single for far too long, struck out every time he faced a woman - and a couple guys who were too scared or oblivious to do anything - and he just...

He wanted.

He wanted to be touched and if Billy was offering - Hot Stuff Hargrove, Baby Doll Eyes Billy - then Steve couldn’t help but take. He’d been so patient with everyone. He waited for Nancy to be ready. He accepted defeat when everyone walked away from him with rolling eyes or obligatory smiles.

Billy...talked. He talked and talked. He’d always been a talker; on the basketball court, barking orders as a lifeguard. Always talking, or letting his radio talk for him.

But Steve sat on Hopper’s desk and felt the warmth of Billy’s palms seep through his jeans. He held onto Steve’s calves as he talked. Talked about terrible things. Broken plates and abandoned things. Being the abandoned thing. Being the broken thing. He talked for hours before finally fucking Steve on that desk.

He’d started slow. Just unbuttoning the jeans and then leaving them alone. It would be another half hour before he took off Steve’s shoes. Every time Steve looked behind him - as if asking for someone to come in, to interrupt, to break this dark dream Billy wove around him - Billy said, “Look at me.”

“I’ve been looking at you, Billy.”

A small smile twitched on his lips. “Good.”

It would be another hour before he said, “I think my dad killed my mom.”

Less than a minute before he added, “He had it coming. Feel bad for my step-mom, though. But she was a screamer. So was the tall deputy. Things can finally be quiet now.”

Steve sat very still as arms circled around his pelvis and Billy just...hugged him. Pressed his face against Steve’s soft belly and inhaled his scent. Warm laundry and Steve Steve Steve.

He couldn’t be sure how things evolved into sex. Steve was already trapped in Billy’s web, so all he had to do was decide, to give the web a pluck and Steve felt the vibrations.

He planted his hands on the desk, lifting his ass for Billy to wrench the jeans and underwear off in one go. They got stuck on Steve’s feet, bunched up so Steve had to figure it out himself as Billy pressed himself over top of him.

The green desk lamp fell with an ominous clank.

Steve finally got a leg free and wrapped it around Billy’s ass the same time teeth found his neck. The warning bells that had been ringing since he got here felt far away; church bells too high over the town to actually make a difference in the goings-on.

Billy marked him up like he had paperwork to sign. Steve’s deed was his, and Billy moaned and grunted with every sigh he wrung out of Steve. Every squeeze to his waist made him moan, and he outright whimpered when Billy licked up his neck. For how much Billy gripped, bit, and sucked, he moved surprisingly gently below the belt.

“Gonna get lube later,” he said in that way again, traveling down Steve’s body as his thoughts escaped into the air. “I’m going to have your ass every which way, Harrington.”

Steve could only gasp as his tongue shoved inside him with no preamble. “I-I-I didn’t shower - ”

A guttural, breathy hum ricocheted from Billy’s throat and into Steve’s chest, knocking Steve’s head back like a rock on the way there. Billy’s stubble and gross wetness made Steve feel filthy in the best way. His cock lay heavily on his abdomen, spurting precum every time Billy’s hands squeezed the backs of his thighs.

Steve came like he’d never been touched in his life. His breathing picked up and he rutted against Billy’s face twice before making a mess of his shirt.

Billy took his slowly fading erection into his mouth, jerking himself off almost violently in a matter of seconds.

When Steve stepped outside, the air smelled like the sunrise even though only the faintest bit of blue had begun to dilute the darkness. And as the sun rose, Steve had never felt worse. It was like seeing a demogorgon for the first time, but instead of minutes, it stretched into hours.

People were dead.

Presumably Chief Hopper too.

Billy, he...he...

He showed up to Steve’s house with a smile and freshly laundered clothes. Steve had showered but looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. Billy only tipped his head back toward his car. “I’ve got two bank accounts freshly inherited. Let me buy you lunch.”

Steve wondered if Dustin’s comic book villains drove Camaros.

Billy bought him lunch. Bought him a chocolate milkshake too. Steve didn’t want to think about his ability to swallow those down so easily. Or how he interacted with the waitress like he wasn’t covered in red and brown love bites delivered directly atop Chief Hopper’s desk. He didn’t want to think what having all of Billy Hargrove’s attention on him did to his squirming...pleased...insides.

He didn’t want to think as Billy fingered him in the backseat.

They didn’t even fit back there but Billy moved with what felt like the strength of three men. It was arousing, being manhandled like that; any fear Steve ought to have held in his gut tapped its disapproving toe outside of the vehicle. The way Billy sucked behind his ear, gripped his hips so he could slot himself right in between Steve’s legs and rut his dark pink erection against Steve’s...

The way he bought Steve more milkshakes.

And a fresh tire rotation because his car veered to the left.

And filled him up in the darkness of Steve’s bedroom, making Steve bounce on his cock as he licked the taste of him off his lubed up fingers - 

“You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

It just...came out.

The husky lust cleared from Billy’s eyes when Steve said that. Terror must have filled Steve’s eyes because Billy gently cradled the side of his head.

This is it. This is how I die. Wanting a freaking kiss from a psycho -

“I thought you’d be the one to do that.”

Steve blinked vacantly at him. He could feel Billy’s heartbeat inside his ass and the guy just smiled -

“King Steve. Never thought you were shy - mmph.”

Billy’s bravado melted against Steve’s mouth. He hummed as he felt Steve’s precum on his belly, soaking them both with what he did to him, did to Steve and all of his flawed moral systems.

Steve pushed Billy onto his back with his kiss, tongue desperately tasting and exploring his mouth as his fingers laced behind Billy’s neck.

Until Billy reached up and pulled Steve’s hands apart, just enough for the bases of his palms to sit on both pulse points.

Billy did it himself: made his cheeks go pink and his chest flush red. But Steve made his ass slap against Billy’s thighs. Made Billy’s jaw go slack and his orgasm slow. Made his eyes water and his chest heave when he could breathe again.

Maybe that was his chance. His chance to make things right.

But with an empty Sheriff’s office down the road, and still no one the wiser, Hawkins wasn’t living by any sort of right anymore. The only right that Steve knew, was Billy’s hands making him feel powerful and precious.

[hongnanglen-arina]

Forget me not | Hong Joshua

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Joshua x fem reader

Warnings: sick!reader, dementia

Words: 3k

A/N: Hey there! So here it is, my first angsty fic on here. I’m currently going through this myself but writing it down helped me cope with it a bit. Of course having to deal with this syndrome/disease is anything but romantic or nice but i tried to make it less bad if you know what i mean... anyways, i really hope you don’t have to deal with this in rl. Please be healthy!! Love you ♡

Tagged: @love-dreams​ @seokcalibur​ 

⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅

The first time Joshua knew that something was off was at your birthday party 5 years ago. When you talked too fast, often times you mixed up the names especially the similar ones. You nearly forgot the cake in the oven. Luckily your cousin noticed it. During the party, he thought you were just too excited or too stressed because you wanted it to be perfect. You’ve always been like this.

But when you were alone in the kitchen after everyone had left, you asked him about the special occasion of the party. You couldn’t remember it was your birthday.

He had laughed and thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t. 

The questions increased, more and more random reactions happened until he couldn’t leave you alone anymore. 

Once he was at a market with you. It was a lovely saturday afternoon. You two enjoyed those short getaways a lot. You would randomly choose a place up to 3 hours away from your home and would drive there, spent the day or even the whole weekend there and would go back happily as if you had a little vacation. That day you had decided to split up so he could secretly get the little bouquet of roses for you before joining you at the grocery store to help with the bags. The bouquet was placed securely on the backseat of your car when he stepped into the grocery store, looking for you. The store wasn’t too big so he was sure that it wouldn’t take long to find you. No sign of you at the fruit corner, the pastries, alcohol nor the snacks corner. He just couldn’t find you. He even asked the workers to call your name through the speakers because he started to get worried. 5 minutes passed. 10. 15. Still no sign. He didn’t want to bother the busy workers a second time so he made his way back to your rented apartment for the weekend. Maybe you wanted to start preparing dinner because you’ve been always like this. You never wanted to get help if it wasn’t really necessary. This was one of the reasons you two would get into an argument but those never lasted for long. 

When Joshua got into the car and drove down the street in the direction of your apartment, he saw you sitting at the bus stop, crying. He immediately stopped the car and ran to you, he thought his heart had stopped beating the second he saw in what kind of state you were.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He tried his best to speak in a calming tone but it was very difficult. Joshua didn’t know what was wrong. What happened. What he missed out on. He was mad at himself that he left you alone, no matter what the reason for your tears was.

Your eyes lightened up a bit when you recognized him beside you on the bench, looking down at his hands which were holding yours, thumbs rubbing soothingly over your cold skin.

“I’m such a bad mother! I forgot to prepare dinner for our kids! I have to go back and cook. They must be hungry and waiting!”

It wasn’t what Joshua was expecting to hear. 

Especially because your two children were already living in other cities for work and university. He didn’t understand right away. Again, he thought you made a joke but when his eyes met your glossy ones and he tried to find the right words.

“Love, they aren’t with us anymore. You don’t have to prepare dinner for them.”

This was the wrong choice of words. You started to cry uncontrollably, worse than before. Because you thought they had passed away.

Later on he learned that he had to “play along”. That this would resolve almost every situation with people who were suffering with this syndrome.

The other time you just wanted to throw away the trash. It was just right outside the apartment complex so he thought it would be okay. The big bins were just beside the entrance, in a separate place only residents could enter since the gatekeeper was always around. You didn’t have to go that far, it was still the same building. But what was a task for 10 minutes maximum under normal circumstances became a horrible memory for Joshua and probably you too. 

Because you got lost somewhere between leaving and closing the apartment door and the moment Joshua found you. In the hospital.

Until now, he didn’t know what exactly happened on that day. But you got hit by a car when you crossed the street at a red light he was told. Even after asking the gatekeeper, he couldn’t help you because after seeing you, he got a call and didn’t pay attention where you were going after exchanging greetings.

Joshua’s fingers slightly touched your knee, the scars from the accident still evident. He was mad at himself. He thought moving to this place would help you recover and made you happier. In some aspects it did. Living on the 23rd floor with a breathtaking view over the Hangang river and all the nice lights once it got dark outside was something you two had always dreamt of. Being able to take a walk at the park next to the building and having some slice of nature around was exactly what you two wanted in this huge city. Always joked about growing old and admiring the view together. 

He never thought it would become like this.

He didn’t know why God had chosen you.

He used to believe that everything happened for a reason. That you would only get good things if you do good.

He was raised to believe in God. 

But after everything, it was difficult.

He even caught himself hating God for making you suffer like this.

He just couldn’t help it.

“It’s cold.” Your words pulled Joshua back to reality and he quickly got up to get your favorite blanket. The fuzzy fabric that you fell in love with when you were at an amusement park together a month before you got married. You always took great care to everything and everyone around you so it was no surprise to him that the blanket still looked exactly like it did when he won it for you. Although it hasn’t gotten the same care anymore after you weren’t able to do chores by yourself again. Joshua asked you what your secret was in maintaining it but as much as he tried, he just wasn’t as talented as you. 

He wrapped you in your blanket and made sure that you felt warm and cozy before walking over to the open kitchen area to prepare tea. Your favorite organic herbal infusion. 

While he was waiting for the water to boil, is eyes traveled to the side and to the wall which was decorated by different photos. Every single one holding a deep meaning.

A selfie taken on a ferries wheel. The moment he confessed his feelings for you. He planned everything to the smallest detail and wanted it to be romantic. Throughout the evening you asked him several times why he was carrying a bigger backpack. The reason was a bouquet of red roses. That day he wasn’t fully himself because he was too nervous but it still worked out. He succeeded. Joshua smiled at the memory.

Beside that was a photo from your wedding. The beautiful dress that you wore was something he had never seen. He was speechless and had to swallow down the tears. He couldn’t believe that he was the lucky guy marrying this ethereal woman in front of him. In this photo your eyes were a little puffy and nose slightly red because you couldn’t help but to cry through half of the ceremony. He could still hear your whines when his best friend asked for a photo. The smile remained on Joshua’s lips while remembering the moment.

Then photos of your children. The first born, then your second 3 years later. Time really passed by too fast because now they weren’t living with you anymore. In fact, your first born would become a father himself in a couple of months. 

Joshua looked over to you, the smile changing to a painful expression. He wasn’t sure if you would understand who it is when your son would come over with his baby. 

Once the tea was ready, he put everything on a small tray with some fruits and walked back to you.

You were still at your favorite spot. At the table in the dining room which was right in front of a huge window, allowing you to have a beautiful view on the Hangang river and the Paldang bridge. Joshua would catch you smile from time to time, sometimes even getting an answer from you why you were smiling. When there wasn't a smile on your lips, your eyes would be watery as if you had remembered something sad. Every time he would ask you and often times he would be surprised what the cause was. The fact he would randomly learn new things about your past even after knowing you for over 40 years now was surprising to him. But the doctor once told him that those things could also be dreams or wishes that you would mix up with reality. Sadly it was common.

He helped you with the tea, blew over it and held the cup while you took a sip. Every time you would thank him but without saying his name. It was painful but he tried to hold his smile.

“They look like the flowers we have in our garden. They are so beautiful. My mother loves them. Me too.”

Joshua turned around to a painting on the wall. A painting of small flowers, little blue petals with white and yellow centers. Forget-me-nots. 

You painted it after getting the diagnosis. At that time, it wasn’t this severe. You were still able to do everything by yourself although you stopped from time to time because you weren’t able to remember what you wanted or why you were doing something. But the both of you were scared of the future.

It wouldn’t just go away after some time like a flu. There was nothing you could do, no antidote. Just medication which would temporarily improve the symptoms, distracting you from the real process. You knew that one day it would become so bad that you may hurt him.

The reason you painted the flowers was because you wanted to break up with him. You wanted a divorce. Not because you stopped loving him, it was because you loved him. You hated to ask for help. You hated to bother people, especially him. People who meant the world to you. You wanted him to live his life without you as a burden because dementia meant you would need help until the very end.

You wanted to give him the painting as a gift, like a symbol of your time together. That you were thankful for everything and hoped he would keep all the good memories in his heart. You didn’t want him to hate you and you really hoped he would understand. If not now, then later. The divorce would give him the freedom he deserved. He shouldn’t see you miserably and take care of you when you can’t recognize him anymore.

That was the biggest fight you two had. 

Joshua was more than hurt of the decision you had made alone. But he wasn’t the only one in pain and he saw it in the way you were shaking as you tried to explain everything. He knew that something was wrong with you some weeks prior to your fight where the bomb dropped. You didn’t eat normally, you denied his ideas for a night out, you didn’t smile as much as you used to. You just avoided his love and wanted to be alone more and more.

In the end he convinced you to stay. Joshua told you that he swore to care for you until his last breath. To be there for you in good but also in bad times. He would be understanding if the syndrome would mess with your brain or body again. It was his purpose to be there for you. He loved you. Just as much as you needed him, he needed you as well. Even if that meant to be in the situation he was in right now.

"You really sing so beautifully. You should become a singer!"

That's what you would say every day after he played the guitar or sang his favorite song for you. And his reply would be the same as well, every day.

"Believe me or not but I was a famous singer once.”

And you would always giggle and think that he made a joke. But it wasn’t.

Joshua was 2 years older than you but then again, healthy. Unlike you who was suffering from dementia. 

He knew you didn't do it on purpose but it always hurt him so much, he had no word to describe the pain. Knowing you weren't able to remember all the happy moments you two went through made his heart ache. No matter how often he told you about your adventures, your experiences and life lessons, you would forget about it right after. But he still did it again and again. At least he had a lot to tell you about and somehow it was a way of not forgetting it himself. Some kind of therapy for himself. But often times he struggled because he couldn't remember it clearly and it was always a lonely feeling as you couldn't help or correct him.

Joshua checked the secure on the wheels of your wheelchair, making sure it wouldn’t move. He slowly got up to his feet to turn on the heater on the other side of the room. It was getting cold inside and the tea was gone already.

When he first heard about dementia, he thought it was losing memory only. But as he educated himself more and more, he learned that it could also mean the loss of mobility and the loss of speech. 

Luckily the latter hasn’t happened yet and he prayed it would stay that way. 

That was one of the reasons he believed in God again.

He felt selfish but he had nowhere to go. No place to let everything out.

When he prayed to God again, he felt bad and pathetic at first but it gave him the strength he needed.

He prayed that you wouldn’t be in too much pain.

He mentioned his gratitude for still being with you.

He was thankful for the chance to be a good husband to you.

Absentmindedly, his fingers found his cross necklace. You weren’t in a good state and of course everything could be better without dementia but being there for each other must be the life lesson here. Even without a marriage, being with the person you love and supporting each other was one of the most important things in life. He didn’t know how it would be, if the tables were switched between the two of you. Maybe that was why Joshua understood your idea of the divorce although he decided against it. If he would have to choose again, his decision would be the same. 

He didn’t want a life without you.

After turning on the heater, he joined you again.

He was watching you smile with tears in your eyes.

He asked you what was wrong but you didn't react, instead your gaze was fixated on something outside the window. He wanted to help. He wanted to turn back time but he couldn't. His wish was impossible to become true. 

Joshua reached forward, grabbing two clementines from the tray he had brought earlier and started peeling them for you. You two used to do it for the other when everything was still okay. Before the drastic change had started. Now you've never done it for him again but it would never stop him from doing it for you.

Carefully taking your hand and placing the peeled fruits in it, you made a surprised noise, giving him a soft smile.

"How do you know I like them? Say, what's your name?"

He tried to smile back. The same question he would hear every day.

Leaning forward, he gently rubbed your arm through the blanket. "My name is Joshua." ...and I'm your husband, he added in his thoughts.

You pulled out your arm from under the blanket and carefully touched his hair, letting the fingertips graze his cheeks until he grabbed your hand and kept your hand like this, leaning in your palm and closing his eyes for a second before placing your hand back down in your lap. You still wore his bracelet. The one he made for you with pastel colored beads. 

Every day you would ask where you got it from but Joshua made sure to tell you about it every time he heard this question. At least you two would always have topics to talk about, he always told himself.

“You are so kind to me.” 

Your soft voice made him look up to you and then he saw it in your eyes. He saw that deep down you haven't completely forgotten about him and that was all he needed. That was what kept him going, day after day. You were and will always be the love of his life after all.

And that would never change. Never.

[buddyfromearth]

Object of Affection

For @gothamsworst​ because your entire penguin tag has put into me a great fire to write a sheepish significant other for him.  Mind you, I haven’t written fanfiction since high school so forgive me if I get something wrong (I’m still getting into DC and my parents think it’s embarrassing because I had a lobo phase out of high school.)

Notes: confessions of love; sfw (some slight implications at the end but it cuts off because that’s not going on this blog here); aw, gee, he brought a bouquet of flowers; hey who ordered flirting because here’s some; several headcanons in one go let’s go people; I can write pretty words I just mostly refuse to in favor of making it all comics instead; idea of flirting is just walking up with a bouquet and going “marry me”; I don’t know what I’m doing I’ve never written this guy before.

EDIT: fixed some things.

 Stuck between yearning for love and the fear of rejection was a difficult place to be. It was at least easier to know rejection than it was to have yearning for love going totally unanswered.  Oh, what pain it was. 

   Oswald Cobblepot, that troublesome Penguin known about Gotham as one hell of a man to cross, was madly in love.  Yes, an unfortunate feeling to have.  But he couldn’t help it.  Not this time, at least. 

   It was someone he’d seen around the lounge, lurking nearby where he’d watch the penguins. When he saw them around and was able to not make it awkward, he couldn’t help but stare at those eyes all green and deep like some dark thicket.  And those venomous eyes did plenty of staring back: he could feel their gaze fixated on him whenever he was working at the lounge. 

   Really, though, what did he know about this crush that had taken his entire heart by a single blow?  Well, he knew enough.  His eyes about Gotham told him that they weren’t much of anything besides a total hermit: mostly stayed home at a ground-floor apartment in a low-rent yet slightly decent part of town (as decent as the city could be, anyway), and had everything that was needed for living delivered to their door.  No car: only ever ventured out on a trike with a headlight on the front and a trunk on the back.  He wasn’t even sure what they did for a living. 

   At the very least Oswald knew he could find them lurking around the lounge.  So, that’s exactly where he went. 

   Of course, such an event was not something to go into completely unprepared.  He pulled out a nice suit, as usual, with all the fine accoutrements he was well-known for.  An umbrella in one hand and a large bouquet of bloody red roses in the other.  Even went out of the way to pick out cologne, albeit he preferred not to.  He wanted to make the best impression he could. 

   It was just that odd hour before the post-work rush.  Oswald hoped he’d not come in on a wrong night.  Trying not to draw too much attention, he made a long sort of awkward path over to where they usually were. 

   There they were, right at that surprisingly bare table he got used to passing by.  There was a pencil case pushed to one side, and it sat next to a tall glass of what he thought might be soda (of course, he wasn’t about to just try it: that would be a bit too much).  They were hunched over something in front of them, and their hands moved quickly with a pencil and a brush. 

   “Excuse me, my dear,” started Oswald, with a soft tone so as to not scare this beloved mystery away, “but is this table taking guests?” 

   They jumped.  Oswald feared he’d gone too fast.  Oh, wonderful, now he’d scared them off! 

   They looked up and met his eyes.  What was once a terrified look behind thick glasses quickly melted into something tender and rather curious.  “Oh.”  Their voice had an astoundingly flat affect, hinting at an origin out in midland farming country with the slight tint to it.  They cleared their throat, and moved their bag to the other side.  “S-sure thing, sir, sure.  Wasn’t expecting anyone to be over here tonight.  Normally people only ever come over to ask for free work from me.”  Their voice was soft and quiet as they spoke: an absolutely adorable sound that hit just right in his ears.  He could listen to it talk forever. 

   “Excellent.”  Oswald sat down directly next to them, putting the umbrella to rest on the seat beside him. 

   Their face quickly changed colors.  It went from a sickly pale in the lowlight to being absolutely taken over with blush.  “R-right, s-sure.  Please, forgive me for asking, but haven’t I seen you around here before?” 

   “Of course you would have seen me here before,” said Oswald, rolling his eyes slightly.  “I own this lounge, after all.” 

   “Oh, I…” They stopped for a moment, and their mouth was slightly agape as they appeared to slowly mentally register the weight of the situation.  Then their eyes shot wide open and they gave up a nervous smile with chattering teeth. “M-Mr. Cobblepot, sir.  I-I-I didn’t think I was something you’d… well, y’know, actually come over to see?” 

   “Quite the contrary,” said Oswald, moving in closer and putting an arm around their shoulder.  “You’ve captured my attention with how much you care about my darlings.  I see you in here and I can’t help but wonder if you’re some kindred soul.”  He gestured just slightly over at the centerpiece of the lounge, the namesake iceberg with a whole group of penguins he often spent hours watching on his days off.

   They looked over to where he gestured, and then they nodded quickly.  The nervousness quickly got itself out of that smile, and their entire posture melted into one of repose.  “Your penguins, right.  Right, the penguins!  Of course! They’re so cute: little communal flipper birds that just waddle around and honk and preen all day.”  They sighed and smiled, leaning forward and putting their head to rest in their hand.   “What I wouldn’t give for a life so carefree.”

   Oswald immediately had a few ideas come to mind.  Oh, he could take care of that: he could just bring them into his life and get them out of that awful apartment, pamper them with anything and everything they could ever want.  Ask them to move in with you.  Ask them for a date.  Ask them to share a drink.  No, no, no, that’s all too fast!  Play it slowly: perhaps they’ll melt into your arms if you go ahead just right.  

   “How often are you around here, hm?”  Oswald looked over from behind his monocle at this mystery figure that had caught his attention and proceeded to hold it in a vice-like grip, taking a moment to look at what he was dealing with.  Their figure was mostly obscured by big, bulky articles of clothing, but what could be made out was all thick and rolled together like some haphazard cake stacked up far too high for its own good.  It was very easy to look at.  “You seem to know enough about my precious little birds.”  “Perhaps a bit too much” was a phrase he wanted to add, but he wasn’t about to murder this feeling. 

   “I don’t really drink alcohol.  I only really come here to draw the iceberg and all the penguins,” said the mystery crush. “They’re so fun to smush together with their little shapes.  Their little flippers are so cute.  And their little feet are surprisingly complex once you get past all the flub and feathers.” 

   Oh, one of those artist types.  Wait, artist type.  Artist. Oh, this could be good: this could actually be really good for several different reasons!  Not just the romantic pursuit reason, either: perhaps their passion for the arts would include, somewhere in there, a passion for him. 

   “I see.” Oswald reached for the pad of paper they were so vigilantly guarding and said, “I can’t help but have a look at someone’s work regarding my darlings.” 

   A sickly pale hand with chewed-down nails shot over and clamped in on Oswald’s wrist. “Just a second there, Mr. Cobblepot. You have to promise me something first.”

   “Anything, my sweet, anything.” 

   “Don’t tell anyone what you see in this book.  It’s a lot of… well, it’s… bad.” 

   “Oh, I will most certainly be the judge of that.”  Oswald picked up the book, and then handed them the bouquet in return.  “Here, something for you to hold in the meantime.”

   Noting their shocked expression as they carefully took the bouquet in their arms, Oswald began to slowly browse through the contents of the book. 

   What they had said was indeed true: there were a lot of penguins in there.  They were doing all sorts of things: preening their coats, honking, spread out on their stomachs staring at each other, ambling across the ice.  They were all partway realistic, but there was some sort of fantastical flair to them. It was cute: just like them. 

   While flipping through the pages, though, he couldn’t help but notice other pieces. Things like the name of the lounge written out in poster type pieces with his penguins and their little iceberg on it.  There was, undeniably, a unique work of a penguin in a suit like his.  Curious, he turned the page. 

   And what he saw there surprised him greatly. 

   It was not only drawings of patrons with little notes about time scrawled around them that occupied the pages, but there were drawings of him as well.  Little notes here and there about the things he’d wear, the way he’d talk, and the way he moved.  Around one particular piece underlaid with purple markings was a portrait of him smiling: the note around this piece said “Handsome guy but who?”  It was surrounded by little scribbled hearts. 

   Oswald, in his stroke of peacock vanity that got to him every now and again, turned his head slightly as he was gently urged by these things.  “I see that you draw more than birds.” 

   The mystery crush looked over.  They caught a look of what pages he’d come to and they grimaced before sighing and hiding their face in their hands.  “Sorry about that.  I-I draw people a lot, just to stay aware of how to do it.” 

   “It seems you’ve become quite taken with me in these intimate studies,” said Oswald, casting a rather tempered gaze and a matching grin over at the object of his affections as he handed back the book.  “I must admit, I came here tonight thinking you wouldn’t reciprocate the feelings that brought me to you in the first place.” 

   “Oh, wow, feelings?”  The mystery crush smiled and chuckled ever so softly, rubbing their hand along the back of their neck as they took the book and put it back on the table.  “Goodness gracious, Mr. Cobblepot, I didn’t expect a gentlemanly type like yourself to be the romantic type.” 

   “Oh, but isn’t a gentleman always the romantic type?”  Oswald, emboldened by such a soft response, couldn’t help but to pull them in closer.  When they began to blush again, he grinned and pressed a gloved finger to their nose. “I can’t exactly help it.  And please, just call me Oswald.” He then picked up one of their hands and pressed a single, fervent kiss to it.

   “Ah, uh, I guess so,” said the mystery crush, “mister… oh, right, Oswald.  Right, first name basis now.”  Their face was getting hotter by the minute, and they began to stammer over all their words as they put the bouquet on the table.  “I, uh… would, would you be offended if I asked you something kinda personal?” 

   Oswald could already picture several personal questions and perfect little answers to go along with them.  He nodded and held their hands in his.  “Oh, but of course, my dear: anything you ask for, you’ll get it from me.” 

   “Oh.” The mystery crush nodded, their glasses falling down their face in the meantime.  When Oswald reached up and pushed them back to their previous position, they cleared their throat and quickly stammered out, “If you feel so strongly about me, would you mind if I moved in?  I, uh… they hiked the rent on my place again and I have to find a new one before the end of the month.  Don’t make enough.” 

   “Would I mind?  Of course not, dearest bird, of course not.  I have far too many places that need a colorful touch like yours.  You can come with me tonight, if it pleases you, my dear.”

   “You don’t have to be so heavy-handed with all the compliments.” 

   “Oh, but I believe you deserve every last one of them.” 

   “You’re far too kind.”  The mystery crush sighed.  “I hate to tell you this now, after all those compliments and affectionate talk, but I’m kind of a handful, I’m… look, I’m trans and if you’re not into a guy like me, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m- I’m sorry.  We can just go away from this table and never speak about this again.  It… it’ll be fine if we do that.” 

   “Oh, now you just listen to me.”  Oswald put his hands to the mystery crush’s face and leaned it over so they were looking at him. “I don’t rightly care about whether you’re trans or not, and I’ll fund that for you so you can be happy.  You’re just far too pretty of a kindred spirit to be left so alone in such a big city.” 

  “I…” The mystery crush looked baffled. They froze for a moment or two, and Oswald wondered if he had said too much.  After a long silence, they sighed and smiled so big and soft that it couldn’t help but bring him to smile as well.  “Wow.  Thanks.” 

   “Oh, you’re ever so welcome, my dear.”  Oswald pressed his face up to theirs and quickly asked, “May I?” 

   “May you… oh, right.  Right! Yes, you may, Oswald.  You most certainly may!” 

   With that, Oswald couldn’t help but press a kiss to their lips.  Their lips were slightly chapped, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle his face just slightly against theirs in some affectionate attempt to bring intimacy to such a moment.  This move, while unexpected at first, was quickly reciprocated as their hands took hold of his shoulders. 

   Oswald pulled away with a troublesome little grin spread across his lips, and the object of all those affections smiled like this sort of intimacy was brand new to them. “I can’t help but wonder what your name is.” 

   “Look, my name is…”  They stopped for a moment, but then they smiled and just said, “Call me Lou for now. I can’t think of a name that belongs to me.” 

   “Then let’s find that out together.”  Oswald took his umbrella up and moved to stand, offering his hand to Lou.  “Come, I can have a crew bring your things to our home tomorrow.  Tonight, we shall simply be enamored little lovebirds.” 

   Lou laughed.  Their laugh sounded like the call of a bird, with its dragged-out syllables and its pitch. They snorted just slightly as they packed up their things.  “You’re very honest, Oswald.  I like that.  I like that a lot.” 

   “What’s a little honesty between significant others?”  Oswald smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 

   Lou put their bag back on their shoulders and put their hand in Oswald’s as they stood up.  They weren’t much taller than him, and those assumptions he had made about their figure were correct.  “It’s a lot. Let’s go.” 

   Oswald only put his arm around them as the two gently went hand-in-hand to where his driver waited. 

   “What are the plans for this evening, Oswald?” 

   “Oh, I do believe I have a few ideas beginning to come to be.  Just you be patient, my sweet, I’ll tell you when we’re alone.” 

[ddaehyeon]

kalopsia; s. wb + reader + k. ty

pairing: seo woobin + reader + kim taeyoung

genre: angst, fluff, hanahaki au

word count: 10.4k

warnings: blood, hospital visit, light cursing, mentions of sickness, death, anxiety, and alcohol/drinking

summary: in each passing day that you grew fonder of taeyoung, more petals would come out of your lips. your heart, a garden of the most beautiful flowers, only that it was also a reminder of your unrequited love. and with the withering petals, woobin can't bear to simply watch.

-- video teaser; story playlist; masterlist; taglist form 🥀

a/n: my longest fic so far! aaaa this is for a fic exchange with the amazing @arieswonjin​​. ilysm <3 i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope we can do more exchanges in the future! also, special thanks to @starrycrvty​​ who helped me with the editing process and cheered me up while i was losing a braincell in the development of the scenes. you’re awesome and ily. <3

hope you will enjoy this ride. send me feedback through my ask/reblogs! i’ll appreciate it a lot :>

taglist: @bunnyseongmin​​

[ will edit this again in the future; ]

regardless of how the day was already ending, flowers seemed to not lose their vibrancy. whenever a gust of air blew by, it would dance along with the wind’s melody. you took a breath, the floral scent easing your body which was probably hugged with nothing but fatigue out of the ruthless writing sessions you gave yourself for hours.

a mélange of colors in the sky; the red hue engulfing the orange tint. it was funny how despite that war of colors, in the end, the sky will turn pitch-black with scattered twinkling stars.

sure, spring was one of the most beautiful seasons. but that small amount of fondness for the aforementioned season will never be enough to make you want to experience it for the whole year. life played favorites though— it was spring for you all year round.

you smiled to yourself, trying to shrug off the thought. good thing you weren’t in your room and the sidewalk wasn’t the quietest place to be at during this hour. it offered a space for distractions. most shops were closing, students were to go home from long hours of studying, workers with a weariness that yours couldn’t match walking to hubs for some sort of leisure activities. if you were in some kind of company work, you’d probably be in the same position. going for a drink or two with friends after working hours. but well, you weren’t.

instead of a bustling office requiring formal attire; you were usually in your pajamas, musing about life and writing about it through means of prose and poetry. a young published author who was known for having a great appreciation for flowers. in a few months, another book will be launched under your name. its spine holding all the papers inked by your love, not for flowers or anything else, but for a childhood friend who seemed to not have taken notice of the flower that began growing in your lungs— a rose.

reaching the convenience store, you contemplated which instant food would serve as your dinner tonight. ordered food seemed to have bored out your taste buds, a little change was needed. and to say, probably a more unhealthy choice. maybe a dosirak would do or a kimbap and peel sausage.

as you were to enter, a call of your name put your feet to a halt. you turned to look at the speaker. “oh hey, woobin?”

a weak smile graced his lips, opening the door for you. he spoke after the both of you had entered the store. “tired of ordered meals?”

“kind of,” you replied, a sigh punctuating your words. you walked up to the aisle of dosirak. the sight of it made you swiftly cross it out of your options. you wanted something else. “how about you?”

“craved for ice cream,” answered woobin who, unlike you, had made his mind in settling with a pint of almond ice cream.

grabbing some triangle kimbaps, you looked at him with a raised brow. “wouldn’t that harm your ever so majestic voice?”

if you made money through books, woobin earned his through singing. it ranged from covers to original song compositions. he was quite popular with all the ballad songs he covered that without a lie was a heart-melter. if home and serenity would be defined using a voice, woobin’s would be the perfect definition for it.

“not really.” a chuckle was heard from him as he watched you grab a cup of instant ramyun. “well, wouldn’t that harm your ever so wonderful brain?”

you shook your head but laughed at the remark. woobin had been your friend for quite a long time, probably one of the closest. light and playful banters seemed to have become a part of your usual talks.

walking towards the counter, you settled your items which the worker scanned quickly. the amount flashed by the small screen, and you pulled your wallet out to pay. woobin followed shortly.

“a healthy alternative after ice cream?” you asked, noticing a herbal medicine pouch being placed in his bag.

woobin hunched his shoulders up, and proceeded to go out of the store.

a soft breeze welcomed you as you stepped out. the sidewalk was no longer as busy as it was earlier and the sky was losing its colors bit by bit as if the flickering lights in the queued lampposts were sucking it all.

“so how is it coming out?” woobin asked as he walked beside you. your apartment and his were only a few blocks away. his apartment was inside a street, away from the main road filled with noises coming from horns and speeding cars, while yours was in a complex near the road. you liked watching people from up the balcony, it was like watching a film, only that everything that was happening was real and only the made-up dialogues of the strangers were sheer fiction.

“minor editings left,” you replied. “also, next week the possible art for the cover will be out. want to check it out with me?”

he didn’t reply right after as if he was mentally checking his schedule, weighing if he was free or not. though his answer indicated that the things he had to do had flexible deadlines. “sure, just tell me when.”

“i’ll call you once they message me about it.” a cough ended your sentence, you covered your mouth as you did so. something smooth touching your palm. it was happening… again.

“are you alright?” concern evident on woobin’s face, he went closer to you. his hand on your back, rubbing circles to ease your coughing.

but he was aware it would not be enough to stop it. a rub or any sort of medicine wouldn’t stop it. like how will those be enough to stop a flower from blooming in your lungs?

it was the reason why even though you admired the beauty of spring, you also disliked it.

flowers were in full bloom during spring. the way each petal was colored was pleasing to the eye. however, such beauty should have just stayed where they were supposed to be. on the ground, decorating the world with its vibrant color. it should only be there instead of clinging onto someone's lungs after failing to get their love returned.

hanahaki, a disease that causes someone to cough up flower petals when their love is one-sided.

there were different stages of it. at first, it was only a mere cough. something one would mistake for a regular cough. until petals come along with it on the next stage. followed by a mix of blood, acute chest pain, and shortness of breathing in the last.

two ways to resolve it. either undergo a surgery which will cost a fortune at the risk of wiping out not only your emotions but also the memory of all people you are close with or have your love reciprocated. inability to obtain any of the mentioned cures will result in the most unfortunate event. no more pain from the flower sprouting in your chest. no ache, coming from the bitter taste of being reminded every single night that your love wasn’t reciprocated— death.

“i’m alright.” it took quite a while before your coughing subsided. you were sure petals were already accumulated on your hand. bringing your hand down, you let go of the red petals. luckily, no blood. but you didn’t expect less. this disease had been giving you restless nights lately, worsening and worsening.

a sigh left woobin’s lips as he shook his head. “that’s not the look of someone alright for me.”

the rest of the walk was silent. woobin insisted on walking you home, to which you had no power to decline. even if you told him no, he still ended up doing so.

by the time you reached the front of your unit, night had already won the clash in the sky. the stars glimmering above at their triumph.

“don’t work up until late,” woobin reminded.

you smiled, wishing you could tell him that it wasn’t the writing that made you get less rest every evening. it was the rose that inhabited your lungs. “i will not.”

“here,” said woobin, handing you the bag of the things he bought earlier.

the ice cream was no longer of its same form as it was earlier. its mist soaked the insides of the plastic bag. “and why are you giving it to me?”

“just take it. you know in movies heartbroken people would eat ice cream as they mope around.”

the lighthearted remark made you laugh. woobin had his ways to make you feel better. “and what about the medicine?”

“you’re probably sad, but that won’t mean that you should not take care of yourself.” he was aware of your feelings for someone else. he was aware of the red roses in your chest. he was aware that your feelings weren’t reciprocated.

“makes sense.” you flashed him a smile, scrambling on your bag to take out one of the triangle kimbaps. the item tossed to his direction which he caught smoothly. “take that at least.”

“well, thank you?” he gazed at the food you gave him before returning the smile. “have a good night, y/n. call me if you need anything.”

you hummed as a response, watching woobin make his way to the stairs, descending afterward. another gust of wind passed by and you rushed to go inside. staring at the now melted ice cream, you shook your head. a laugh escaping your lips as you closed the door.

how long has it been? you thought.

collapsing on the bed, you stared at the ceiling. the coughing had already stopped, yet the burning pain in your chest remained.

what was the flower again?

a rose?

maybe the stabbing ache was caused by its thorns that came to hug your lungs. you sighed as if that would altogether pull out the suffocating sensation— of course, it wouldn’t. it would never.

a curt beep on your phone pulled you out of your cloudy thoughts, reaching for it to read the notification. a message from one of your friends which read,

it’s your debut book’s first anniversary today! congrats, y/n.

for a moment, your lips curled into a faint smile, so weak that it didn’t even last for a minute. sending a quick reply to show gratitude over the thought, you allowed yourself to drown over the same thoughts.

that book with inked poetry all meant to deliver a single message— your feelings for taeyoung. the words laced in each rhyme was a cover of the affection you had for him, and the petals you cough each night was his answer.

a childhood friend who you used to be neighbors with. he still lived under the comforts of his parents’ home, while you moved to live alone in an apartment, desperately seeking independence.

or maybe seeking for a way to not see his face every single day and be reminded that his favorite flower, a rose, had been blooming in your lungs.

the brightness taeyoung had never seemed to fade, his smile still carried sunlight of its own. a contagious one that would make anyone have the same smile (but maybe not as bright). his bubbliness was a comfort. whenever around him, the butterflies causing chaos in your stomach would make you forget about the evening ache he was subconsciously bringing.

taeyoung, ever since you were young, loved books and flowers. you preferred other things though, but somehow you found yourself conforming to what he liked. being the person you spent most of your time with, his interest became yours. whenever he would tell you about something he became inclined to, you would check it as quick, forcing yourself to like it. it was a repeated action that was implanted as a habit. in the process of trying to be his ideal person, your own identity was thrown away. a trap filled with nothing but thorns of his favorite flower.

shifting to your side, your eyes landed on the wall just above your working table. photographs of roses were stuck on it, along with verses other people might find painfully beautiful. you knew your words better though. its beauty was a mere delusion. hiding behind the pretty words were ugly cries— your reality.

another cough, a petal escaping from your lips. it danced in the air as it was freed, only to meet the cold floor of your room. with flowers blooming in the chest, you closed your eyes drifting to sleep. the pain no longer mattered as it was the usual sensation.

a soft instrumental had taken over your apartment. the sun was already up, its light filtering through the blinds. your potted plants were probably thankful for its generosity. you took a sip of your coffee, staring at the few words written in the new document reserved for a new manuscript. writing, or at least conceptualizing the main theme, of your next book was your top priority today. however, the continuous notifications coming from your close peers dragged you out of your bubble every single time.

with you celebrating the first anniversary of your debut book (which basically marked the day of your debut as a published writer), receiving messages was plain inevitable. your editor even asked if you’d be up for a drink later this night. an offer you turned down. silence and alone time this evening were everything you craved for.

putting your laptop on rest, you grabbed your own copy of withered roses, your book. it was silly how you decided to have perfectly blooming and lively roses as its cover when it contained the very title, your own withered roses hiding through beautiful verses.

flipping through the pages, you stopped on a certain poetry. undeniably, one of your favorites. it was one of the first poems that you wrote for this collection. grabbing a paper and a pen, you scribbled the words down, the same words still describing your situation perfectly. and maybe that was the reason why your condition was worsening.

you stuck the paper on the wall, just beside a photograph of a blue rose. for a moment, you stared at it, smiling at the words as if those were some kind of lost friends who rekindled with you. you smiled as if those were something that you should be smiling at.

three doorbells and a few knocks. a heavy sigh came out of your lips, tearing your eyes away from the poem. slow steps towards the door, the person on the other seemed rather impatient for the doorbell continuously made a sound. it was enough for another breath to escape the confines of your mouth.

swinging the door open, your eyes widened. the sight penetrating quickly to your senses and the sensation you hated the most overpowering you, your heartbeat loud. really loud. “taeyoung?”

for him to be able to give you the most wonderful feeling of warm cheeks and butterflies and still be able to poison you using his favorite flower lethal to your body, you wondered when it would end.

“it’s withered roses’ first anniversary!” his smile was a band-aid, too fleeting of a cure for you. he lifted a pot of cycnoches orchids, something that was probably from his parent’s flower shop. “here’s a gift for you.”

“thank you.” as he handed you the pot, you gave him enough space to enter your unit. placing it just beside the other plants you had, all coming from their shop, you turned to look at taeyoung. a pout appearing in your countenance. “you should have brought food.”

taeyoung scratched his head at your sudden words, a sheepish smile curving on his lips. “well, we can order.”

at the sight of a slightly flustered taeyoung, a string of laughter became your immediate response. “i was kidding.”

you went back to the couch to sit with taeyoung following you shortly. the music playing in your room had long ago stopped, something you only noticed after taeyoung came. after your awareness came to hug you once again.

his eyes wandered as if it was his first time in your unit. it was definitely not his first visit, to count how many times he’d been there was also impossible. just like how you frequented their flower shop, he was usually in your unit as well. maybe it was due to him being used to your company. childhood friends, former neighbors— inseparable, but in a manner that went nothing beyond romantic feelings. at least to his side.

glancing at him, you followed where his gaze was fixated on. it was focused on the wall that held photographs of roses and the poem you scribbled earlier from your book.

“wasn’t that the eighth poem in your book?” intrigued, he looked at you with a brow raised.

you didn't have to meet his gaze. a smile slowly crept out of your visage. it didn't hold an emotion though, more like a simple forced curve. "it is."

"i love it." it was a genuine remark, but somehow, instead of giving you a warm feeling, it did the opposite. standing up, he reached for the paper, detaching it from the wall. the words slipping out of his tongue as he read it out loud.

heat-haze; sunrays visible at the nighttime daydream under the cloud of deep distance built a sensation of unrequited affection innumerable actions-- satisfied, captured by mere existence. nevertheless, the heart was jinxed in a presence, a love, i cannot withdraw from.

as the final four lines were uttered, he looked at you in the eyes, a hint of gloom clouding his misty orbitals. he had the poem memorized, but it was only the words he had carved in his mind. the feelings sealed with it, unnoticed.

taeyoung was the reason why you began writing. a simple comment of his saying that you would make a good author and your words were all prettily laid out made you want to write.

or perhaps it was not the writing you were chasing for, rather the speaker who told you that he wished to see more of your writing.

for others, writing could be a form of escape. to be under a little spell that would pull someone out of their reality. you wished you were the same. you wished your writing wasn't your reality.

anywhere you go, you were surrounded by your reality. the potted plants you should not be taking care of if it wasn't for his interest in plants and flowers. the book that was published a year ago and the soon to be published one. the colors that accented your unit which he said was such a relaxing palette. the words in your head. the flower in your chest. it was the reality made out of nothing but the person you loved.

“wait.” taeyoung’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. he was peering over petals of red roses that were on your table.

it seemed like you forgot to clean it up earlier. well, you didn’t expect anyone to actually go to your house. such a realization was thought late.

“were you playing with roses?” taeyoung asked, frowning as he looked at it.

you’d consider that a stupid question, but taeyoung didn’t know a thing about your condition so you let it pass. there was no way in hell you’d tell him about it now. not yet. “yes.”

“so how was it?” the excitement and giddiness leaking in his tone as he plopped down next to you on the couch didn’t help. what was he even referring about? your hanahaki disease? what? as if hearing your question, he clarified his query, “does he love you?”

ah, the popular he loves me, he loves me not.

there was no need for that though, the petals you vomit each night was a clear answer. you smiled, leaning back to get seated more comfortably. “he doesn’t.”

the way those two words left your lips surprised you. no hint of hurt, sadness, or anything— it was laced with a calm tone as if retreating, surrendering, accepting. will it really be your fate?

taeyoung sighed, the smile he once had melting away. “don’t worry, it’s just a silly game anyway. the person you love probably loves you too.”

you turned to look at him. a mistake. kind eyes met yours, reassuring you of something you had already known for so long was false. there was no need to hang into that ray of hope when you were aware that it was not the case.

eyes glossy with the tears that never dared to fall, you offered him a tight-lipped smile. “thank you.”

he grinned, which you assumed was out of relief before he looked at your wall once again. “why use roses though? there are other flowers out there.”

“well, isn’t it the first flower you’d think of when you hear the word love?” you replied. “it means a lot more depending on its color, but in simple terms, it just means love and romance.”

“you seem to know a lot about it,” he remarked, not tearing his gaze away from the photograph. “why blue out of all colors?” he asked referring to the photograph you had on your wall.

“it stands for an impossible miracle.” a clear depiction of your situation. no word followed that sentence, and good thing taeyoung didn’t ask any further about why. maybe it was due to his perception that poetry writers had other symbolism hidden behind their verses, even when there was nothing and the message was just in front of their readers.

“roses are wonderful, aren’t they?”

not when they are blooming in your chest. not when its thorn embraces your lungs. not when it suffocates you. your thoughts were loud in your head. but you knew you can’t blame it for inhabiting your body. you can’t even have taeyoung blamed for it either. it was the universe’s fault for laying such a disease in humanity. “they truly are.”

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

how could you not when its petals were the ones that kept on coming out of your lips every evening?

a ringing coming from a device shattered the silence in your apartment. but this time, it wasn’t from yours. it was from taeyoung who was now about to leave your unit, his parents had called him to go and do his tasks in the flower shop. seemed like he had forgotten about it, considering that he’d been with you for almost an hour.

“take care and have fun for the rest of the day!” taeyoung ruffled your hair and left. his touch lingering.

your room suddenly felt empty. as if taeyoung had taken all the vibrancy it had after stepping out of it. taeyoung was your paradox— a home that housed nothing but emotions you shouldn’t regard as home, but you did. he was your home.

you coughed, a petal threatening to escape. the windpipe blocked, your chest tightening. a sorrowful smile was your only answer to the ache that was resurfacing. your gaze didn't falter, still locked on the photograph of the blue rose. to no one in particular, few words were whispered, “they are beautiful.”

“remind me again why i’m here with you?” woobin looked at the almost empty store; sleepwears displayed from the first showcase up to the last rack. it was a week after the first anniversary of your book, things had seemed to tranquil much more.

shopping during the working hours on weekdays was certainly one of the best things. the absence of people led to different advantages like having no long queue to the cashier, no people to deal with as you browse the clothes, and overall just serene shopping.

you didn’t mind it when a salesperson would go and ask you about what type or design you were looking for, they were probably getting bored having to stand for a long time and entertain just a few passing potential customers. the mall’s theme song was playing from a distant speaker, almost inaudible and muffled by the sweet piano music playing in the shop itself. keeping it up to the theme of the shop, if there was a bed in there, you’d probably be brought to sleep right after. something you weren’t sure to consider as a good aspect or bad aspect of the clothing store.

“well, you just finished posting another wonderful cover which hit a hundred thousand views in an hour, we must celebrate, right?” you replied as you picked up a pair of pastel plaid pajamas, checking the fabric quality to which you quickly marked as spandex.

woobin reached for the design next to what you picked up, eyeing it with less interest than you had. “but why are we buying pajamas?”

“because i need it.” a chuckle was heard from you after he let go of a sigh at your words. you stepped closer to him, peering over his shoulder to check the design he was checking.

“by the way,” he began, not wanting to ask more as he was aware of your love for comfortable clothes (pajamas being the top of it along with sweaters and hoodies). “i’m applying for a job in this pharmaceutical company located in another town as a medicinal chemist.”

“oh? the one you mentioned before?” you watched him go through another set of sleepwear.

it was a sudden reminder that before being known as the seo woobin who sang various songs in innumerable gigs and had built a name in the music side of youtube, he was the seo woobin who excelled in his major, organic chemistry. for years of him not applying for an actual job as a chemist anywhere and pursuing his dream career, that fact was swept out of your mind.

you met woobin in one of your electives— a chemistry class that you would probably have to retake only if he didn’t help you out. the limited slots in language classes were the ones you put your blame on, but it wasn’t completely that bad. after all, you had ended up making a good friend in the class you despised the most.

“are you going to quit singing?” worry was painted all over your face which earned a soft amused laughter from woobin. you adore his singing a lot, the comfort his mellifluous voice could bring was distinct, something you’d grown ever so fond of.

“you know, i just want to put my degree into proper use.” woobin smiled reassuringly as he tossed you a set of pajamas with the design he guessed was what you were searching for, the one with doodled roses decorating it from bottom to the top. “kind of had the urge to get a secured job.”

the clothing dumped to you went unnoticed as you fired off another question. “what about the album deal? i thought you already had one. what’s going to happen with that?”

“i will still sing.” there was no need to doubt woobin’s calm tone as he said those words. “don’t worry about it. i love singing and i’ll not stop doing it.”

“make sure to.” you walked towards another rack, finally noticing the pajamas woobin had thrown in your way earlier. staring at it for a moment, the initial thoughts about the flower easily came into your head. “this one’s cute. i’ll take it.”

unconvinced, woobin raised a brow at you. “are you sure you found it cute or there’s another reason behind you liking it?”

the other reason he was pertaining to was clear, enough to become a slap rather than a mere reminder. do you really like it or do you simply want the person you like to notice you for having something close to their favorite thing?

feeling lost to your own set of likes seemed like a normal thing. mind plagued with taeyoung’s interests that it mattered more than yours. at this point, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for him to like you back and finally get the fuzzy feeling of being loved back or you were simply desperate to stop the flowers from budding in your chest.

“i like it,” you answered after a long while of spacing out. you even nodded your head as if trying to convince yourself from a statement you weren’t sure whether to label as a lie or a truth.

“if you say so.” an indistinct sigh came across woobin, subtly shaking his head in disbelief. he didn’t go deeper into the topic though, instead uttered some words that made a bright smile grace your lips. “go and choose whichever you want. it’s on me today.”

wearing the new pair of a loose shirt and pajama, you gazed at your reflection. a curve spotted on your lips, satisfied with the new purchase. demeanor dropping as a familiar sensation crawled up to your senses. the calm night was taken aback when your chest began tightening. a petal quickly rising, stuck on your throat afterward as you tried to hold it in. however, it was a failed attempt. the urge strong that you had to run towards the bathroom to release all the petals of the vivid red rose that nurtured in your body, watered with nothing but unreturned affection.

just like any other night, the sickness came to do its visit. its terrible reminder playing in your mind. the blood that mingled with the petals was hard to discern as they were colored in the same hue; it tasted different though.

a ringing in your head as your vision started to blur, not noticing how tears had formed in your eyes as the pain emerged to be stronger than it usually was. the intensifying ache wasn’t the only one that made your tears fall. all your unnoticed efforts, regardless of how big they were, were the ones that brought salty tears. your knees buckled, allowing you to meet the ground unceremoniously. it was getting harder to breathe and the cold bathroom tiles were your only company.

it was a twisted melody. in each cough, petals would escape. it didn’t even take a long time for you to be surrounded by a sea of red petals. what a sickening view, you thought. how do people regard roses as something so beautiful?

a memory.

“dear, taeyoung is outside, waiting for you.” a few knocks on the door accompanied your mother’s call.

it was a hot summer, the sun giving no mercy with its ray as if angry with how it was neglected during the cold seasons. with a few remaining days before the start of a new quarter, you probably had spent most of your time in your room. oftentimes will you go out only at the call of a childhood friend.

“y/n.” as if stepping out of your thoughts, taeyoung had your name wrapped by his cheerful voice. “mom made homemade ice cream. come on, get out of your room already.”

if your own mother wasn’t able to pull you out of your room, taeyoung was. your feet quick to move as you checked on your reflection by the mirror, practicing a smile and some silent dialogues. all to which you weren’t really able to show when you opened the door. a faint blush crept on your cheeks as soon as your gaze landed on the bright smile taeyoung had on his own. butterflies flew free in your stomach, heart pounding.

maybe it was the way taeyoung would talk to you with an unmatched enthusiasm even if your words make no sense. maybe it was because of the vibrancy he had all around him that simply could bring comfort to anyone he was with. maybe it was due to the fact that he had been with you since you were a kid.

or maybe it was just because he was him, kim taeyoung, that your crush began budding as a love. and as soon as it did, his favorite flower, a rose, was caught in your lungs during middle school.

occupied by the sensation, your mind didn’t attend to the continuous doorbells ringing in your apartment. in a few, the door was opened, rushed footsteps along with your name uttered in sheer concern echoed in your unit. with the air knocked out by the relentless flower, from red your vision turned pitch black.

when dusk fell, woobin was already in the hospital with a drink in his hand, which was meant to be given to you. he’d been going back and forth to the hospital and his apartment to bring you food and some other items you needed.

the scene he witnessed last night was still fresh in his mind, the panic lingering. on your cold bathroom floor, you laid unconscious with petals of roses surrounding your figure. he was swift to get help, which ended up with you having to stay for almost a day in the lonely ward. your room making you feel sicker.

“oh, you’re back?” serim, the head nurse and a close friend of woobin, said as he walked towards the other.

woobin nodded, tracing the track he’d been stepping into since this morning. it was as if he could easily go to your room even with eyes closed. serim followed from behind and before he could say a word, woobin had already found your room empty. finally, he offered the nurse attention. “where’s y/n? already discharged?”

“yes, they just went to talk with their doctor for a few more reminders.” serim shook his head disapprovingly. “they should stay longer, but they seem like a very busy person.”

“y/n should just follow their doctor.” a sigh punctuated woobin’s sentence.

“and you should too,” said serim.

woobin began walking his way back to the nurse station reception to wait for you. “my case is different.”

“you’re slowly losing your voice because of your own sickness.” serim’s sigh was way heavier than woobin’s, his orbitals painted with worry. being one of woobin’s closest friends, he knew all about it. “orchids are blooming in your lungs, how are you different?”

a glare was darted to serim’s direction which became woobin’s sole reply since they both saw you approaching them. serim hunched his shoulders up, shaking his head once again before walking away.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you told woobin who handed you the drink he bought outside.

“of course,” woobin said, leading the way out.

there weren't a lot of people in the lobby. only a few were there, either the nurses turning for their night shifts or the relatives of those people staying in the hospital for the night.

“it’s getting worse, isn’t it?” woobin’s words slowed down your pace, your head turned to him as he continued. “shouldn’t you start trying to move on and finding someone who can actually love you back?”

“what do you mean?”

woobin shrugged. “it seems like it’s the only way for you to be properly healed.”

yes, moving on and falling for someone else was a considered cure as well. a change of feelings could remove the flower naturally. but doing so was easier said than done.

a sad smile became evident on your brim. how could you do that? you thought. “i can’t just fall in love with someone like it’s nothing, woobin.”

“give me a chance then.”

woobin’s words were powerful enough to make your feet stop from moving, to catch your breath and make it halt. it can’t be. you looked at him confused, wishing that you misunderstood what he said. you wished that it would be his regular sentences as he tried to make you feel better. you wished what you were thinking was a mere thought, an idea, a false gut feeling. “woobin?”

it was a question that didn’t need any elaboration. the simple call of his name with such perplexed tone was enough as a query. the same gloomy smile on his lips matched what you had earlier, accompanied by his faint chuckles. “yes,” to your horror, he confirmed. he let go of a breath, something that gave him a boost to finally utter the words he’d been meaning to say. “i’m in love with you and all i want is for the flowers in your chest to stop blossoming.”

“that means…”

to experience the same thing you had been experiencing. to give someone the same taste of your suffering. to plant a flower in someone’s chest and water it every day as you were failing to return their provided affection. it was something you didn’t wish to do, an extremely unfavorable idea which reminded you of how the universe had been unfair from the very start.

“yes, and they aren’t beautiful.” a tight-lipped smile became apparent on his countenance as he stared at the glass doors of the hospital. a few more steps and both of you will be out of the place the two of you frequented on different days, but for the same means— a fleeting cure for the ache caused by hanahaki. “the pain we’re both carrying out of unrequited love. it isn’t beautiful, y/n.”

a lump in your throat stopped any possible reply from coming out of your lips. you wanted to apologize, but an apology from taeyoung wasn’t the thing you’d want to hear from him after you confess and you assumed such wouldn’t give comfort to woobin as well. an apology wouldn’t be enough when you were already striping away someone with their lives.

rather untimely, the door opened, revealing taeyoung. he was holding a basket of flowers, probably for some kind of delivery. with hinted concern, he walked towards you and woobin. “what are you doing here?”

“stomach ache.” regardless of your mangled thoughts, it was a surprise that you were able to respond as soon. it was as if such sickness was a practiced lie.

“is that so?” taeyoung looked at woobin to confirm and the older just nodded not wanting to speak more. he turned to you, his worry dropping a few levels, but was still obvious. “let me just bring this flower to a friend and i’ll walk you home. will that be alright?”

you looked at woobin, silently asking if he would be okay with that. it was such a silly act, of course, he would be against it. but what can he do? just like him, the person you had grown fond of hasn't reciprocated your feelings yet. both of you probably wishing the same thing— for the flowers to wither and be gone. for the restless nights to end. to be loved back. the only difference was woobin was so focused on you that he had forgotten about his condition which was worsening at the same rate as yours.

he patted your shoulder. “sure, i need to head somewhere else anyway. get home safely?”

“i will, you too, woobin.” you gave woobin a smile, guilt sitting in your stomach which was continuously twisting.

woobin weakly mirrored the feature before turning his back to you and taeyoung. as he was stepping out of the establishment, he looked at the twinkling stars, hoping this night would be kinder. but he was certain he’d be the one coughing out orchids tonight, probably worse than your roses.

the stars from above watched you and taeyoung walk on the now empty sidewalk. even without the illumination coming from the lampposts, it was all so bright. all in gratitude for the moon which served as a ball of shining light in the clear night sky.

"you've been sick since we were kids, but you never told me what with." taeyoung broke the silence, uncertain if he should go further. “was it really because of stomach ache earlier?”

a chill ran down your spine, making you inwardly shiver. that wasn’t the talk you were so ready to face. and after what happened last night, you can’t simply bring another lie. however, telling taeyoung everything wasn’t something you planned to do as well. afraid that rejection would become the final straw.

taeyoung stopped dead on his tracks, looking at you with nothing but sheer concern. “is there anything bothering you?”

you gave him a smile which was obviously forced. “don’t worry about it.” you urged him to continue to walk and he did, but just as you thought that you were already safe from his questions, he asked another.

“it’s not a stomach ache wasn’t it?” hands on his back, his gaze was fixated on the road. “what was it, y/n?”

maybe it was time to tell taeyoung about it? maybe— “hanahaki.” the words subconsciously slipped out of your tongue.

“what?” surprised by the mention of the disease, his eyes were wide when he whipped his head to your direction. “you mean… your love is unrequited?”

taeyoung was quick to catch the gist of the disease. it was pretty much a popular sickness that had probably made some of his other friends suffer. the only thing he wasn’t quick to get was… who your feelings were for.

“woobin doesn’t like you back?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts which was purely of practicing the possible explanations if he ended up recognizing your feelings for him. and apparently, he didn’t.

it was your turn to shoot him a look. “what?”

“don’t you like woobin?” he averted his gaze and it trailed back to the road. “i mean the two of you seem like really close friends and you’re together most of the time.”

you didn’t know whether you should be relieved or not. but since you were still unprepared to offer any explanation, you just went with the flow. a bitter smile coming to your lips. your head had his name on your sentence, regardless of how you uttered another man’s name. “yes, i like woobin. but it seems like he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“maybe you should… try moving on?”

the way taeyoung suggested the same thing made you laugh, confusing the person beside you. to move on, huh? was that what the universe wanted you to do? to move on? a smile lingered on your visage, as you stepped on the stairs with taeyoung following you behind. it was just funny how he thought you were in love with woobin, when in fact the flower he adored the most was living in your lungs. that he was the person you were in love with, not any other person.

stopping at the front step, the worry that sat on his orbitals didn’t waver. the look asking if you’d be alright tonight— you already knew the answer. “take care, okay? if you need anything, just call me. good night.”

as soon as you closed the door, it began. the coughing that seemingly just waited for you to step into your unit came rushing. a petal waving in the air before meeting the ground. “i need your love, taeyoung. i badly need it.”

the smell of freshly done pancakes wafted up to your bed, a few noises coming from the kitchen followed. it was a gentle alarm that pushed you to wake up and get out of your bed. too groggy, a foot still on the dream you were having, you didn’t think that whoever was in the kitchen could be a thief or anything. well, who in their proper mind would cook food for the owner of the house if they were only to snatch things after?

a few days ago, you had an extreme case of hanahaki, something that led you to stay in the hospital overnight. after that, it had seemed to subside or at least be more gentle during the evening, resulting in more hours of sleep.

“woobin?” you called his name as you watched him turn off the stove, placing the fluffy pancakes onto a plate. there was already a hot chocolate ready for you to drink. you didn’t even question how he got inside. probably jungmo, the landowner, gave him the code to your room. oh, talk about privacy.

his smile was as warm as the morning sunrays. “good morning.” his voice was a little hoarse, normally you wouldn’t really pay attention to that. when he recorded songs too much in a day, he’d end up with such. but now that you knew he was experiencing hanahaki, a question hung in your head. was it because of the coughing? your thoughts dropped at the sound of his voice, still mellow regardless. “i’ve cooked you breakfast.”

“don’t you have work to do?” you asked, remembering how during the past days he’d been telling you about his new work— the slot in that pharmaceutical company as a medicinal chemist. you dragged a chair before occupying it, looking at him as he placed all the things he used in the sink. a curve became visible on your lips as your eyes fell to what he prepared. it was just pancakes, but it was woobin’s pancakes. he was such an amazing cook, you could vouch for that. “thank you by the way.”

“work? ah yeah.” he took the seat adjacent to yours, a cup of coffee in his hands. he grinned at you and you swore, your heart was in ultimate chaos when you heard his next words. “i took on the job of taking care of you for free starting today.”

sunlight filtered through the glass door of the flower shop, highlighting the wide variety of spring flowers. ranunculus, tulips, and calla lilies were all displayed along with other non-seasonal plants. there weren't a lot of customers coming, given that there were flowers available to be picked up in some public gardens. regardless, there were still a few who would come and get flowers arranged for some special occasions. but then again, it was just morning. it was rather too early to judge the possible count of customers later.

“jungmo’s coughing out petals now,” allen, one of the workers in the flower shop. said.

taeyoung looked at him, pausing his actions of tying a yellow ribbon in the bouquet of tulips. with a brow raised, he asked, “hanahaki?”

putting the freshly done arrangement of peonies, allen tapped on the counter which called the attention of the delivery man. he pointed out the card which contained the address and watched the other go out to deliver the item. dragging a stool to sit on, he stretched his arms. “seems to be. he’s coughing out petals of his crush’s favorite flower, crocus. i don’t think it’s a mere crush now though.”

“oh, so the flower that blooms in a body experiencing hanahaki would be the favorite flower of the person they like?” taeyoung asked as he finished the bouquet he was working on. he retrieved stems of roses and cut them nicely, removing the thorns and excess leaves.

“yes,” allen replied. “you like roses right?”

taeyoung only nodded, a memory alighting in his head. it can’t be—

“that means the person who likes you, but ends up with a one-sided love would end up having roses in their chest,” allen continued, causing taeyoung’s hand to stop from moving. the younger’s eyes fixated on the collection of red roses in his hands.

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

the flower growing in your chest was his favorite flower, roses?

it was him all this time?

right at that moment, there was one thing taeyoung would want to address himself as. an idiot. realizations came crashing to him like a powerful wave that held no mercy. it was ice cold, his body freezing at each thought that his mind welcomed.

the petals he found on your desk weren't there because of a silly game of he loves me, he loves me not. it was the petals you coughed out and forgot to clean.

“are you okay?” allen asked, momentarily snapping taeyoung out of his daze.

the twisting on taeyoung stomach was unbearable. his heart racing not with flutters, but rather with anxious thoughts. he was the cause of your pain?

with an almost inaudible voice, taeyoung let out of his horror. “y/n likes me.”

continuous taps on the keyboard, words appearing on the screen only for the flow to stop with punctuation. in sync, the doorbell rang. you no longer wondered who it was. it had always been him.

you stood up and shuffled towards the door, opening it before welcoming the male with a warm curve in your face. “it’s lunch already?”

woobin nodded, handing you a bag of still hot dishes he cooked probably not more than an hour ago. he followed you as you made your way to the dining area. when the male said he’d be taking care of you starting that specific breakfast, he stuck to his words, visiting you almost every day. the only exception was when he had to meet a producer. his own album was in the process of being finalized.

you placed the bag down and woobin walked towards your cupboard. where to find the things was already memorized. it was as if he was living in the very unit.

“so how’s your morning?” he asked as he placed two plates on the table.

“woke up a bit late, but i was able to finish the last set of poetry i’ve been meaning to write!” the spark in your eyes was a lot brighter than the past days. it was easily contagious as woobin found himself having the same amount of glee. “i’ll print the last parts and let you read, wait.”

woobin shook his head, a smile crossing his brim as he watched you go to your workspace to do what you said. as he finished setting up your lunch, he took a seat and waited for you. just like you, woobin was experiencing fewer symptoms. his voice was no longer that raspy and he was able to post new song covers almost every week regardless of his current busy schedule with other recordings.

“here!” with unwavering enthusiasm, you extended your hand for him to reach the printed papers. you sat on the seat across him, gazing at the food which only made your mouth water. eyes already feeding off the sight of the meat dishes.

“this is quite interesting,” woobin remarked. “is this the last one?”

you nodded at his words when he showed you the last page. “i figured that it could be the best way to end it.”

“it sure does.” woobin served you by putting meat on the top of your rice. “eat up.”

just like the past days, you enjoyed lunch with woobin. a few talks here and there, though most of the time the two of you were silent. not the terrible kind of silence, but a good one. something comforting. and maybe that kind of silence was all you needed.

after the meal, the two of you sat on the couch. the television served as background noise as you run down the things you have to do this afternoon.

“you seem to be happier the past days, did you get yourself another contract?” woobin asked once you were done telling him where to drive you today, the flower shop and to your editor’s place.

“i do?” you caught sight of the lone photograph of roses on your wall. the poetry that accompanied it once was now resting on your table. “i haven’t been coughing recently.” your cheerfulness evident when your eyes wrinkled into crescents as you turned your head towards the direction where woobin was sitting. “maybe he’s starting to like me!”

a soft beam hugged woobin’s visage, contented with the result you were having. for your own flower to stop blooming, that was all he wished for. his mind got him best though, speaking without much thought as he eyed the last poem you wrote once again. “or maybe you’re starting to like him less.”

blinking in confusion, woobin handed you back the printed papers you gave him earlier. it was on the last page. the words were probably a clear indication of your feelings.

zest gone. pen dropped. book closed. lock kept. no word survived.

those words weren’t the most gleeful of words, but it carried freedom. something you’d been wishing you could get out of taeyoung’s labyrinth of roses. something you never knew would finally come to you.

“right?” woobin pulled you out of your own thoughts. “i’ve been coughing less as well and i can guarantee that you’re the only one i like.”

“that means…?”

“you’re slowly moving on, y/n.” woobin gave your head a light pat. his beam growing warmer as he looked at you. “you’re moving on.”

before going to the place where you were to meet your editor, you asked woobin to stop by the flower shop. knowing your editor, she’d probably love some dahlias and irises.

upon entering the shop, the same floral scent you had been accustomed to since you were younger embraced you. however, instead of taeyoung greeting you, the expression in his face— wide eyes after a gasp— was a little perplexing. you raised a brow at him, stepping closer to the counter with woobin following you from behind.

“dah—”

“can we have a moment?” taeyoung’s question interrupted your own set of words.

with a head tilted to the side, you didn’t make an effort to hide your confusion. the seemingly forced smile he had, which was quite too awkward for your liking was not a help at all. you turned to look at woobin, asking if it would be alright for him to wait. “will it be okay?”

“sure.” woobin shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as he could. something he was successful in doing so. “i’ll buy you a drink while i wait. just send me a message if you’re done.”

“thank you, woobin.” and with those words said, you watched woobin leave the establishment. as soon as he did, your stomach sunk. there was no one else in the flower shop, it seemed like the other staff had already left.

taeyoung gestured to you to sit on an empty stool next to the counter, but you declined. instead, you leaned to it, urging him to speak what he wanted to talk about. he wasn’t the kind to be hesitant with such, but now, it was as if his tongue was tied in hundreds of knots and words can’t just be delivered.

“you’re experiencing hanahaki, right?” a stiff start. not only you, but taeyoung could feel how unnatural it sounded. no cheeky grins, no bright tone. it was flat and dripping with nervousness you weren’t aware taeyoung could be under the state of. “how are you?”

“i’m alright.” you chuckled at his words, letting loose of the already tensed atmosphere. as much as you were nervous for what was to come, you didn’t want it to spread on your formerly cheerful mood. “come on, taeyoung. i’m not going to be mad or anything.”

it partially helped taeyoung who had a small smile on his visage. but his eyes were still unable to meet yours as he locked his gaze on something else, the flowers healthily blooming inside the shop. “you were coughing out… roses, right?”

you hummed as a reply. finally taking the offer to sit. “yes, your favorite.”

“that means that you like me?” taeyoung took the seat next to your stool.

surprisingly, instead of worrying about how your little secret got figured out, you had an opposite feeling. you were relieved. there was no anxiety about him giving you the possibly worst rejection, no concern about how he could possibly shatter a thorned heart.

whatever made him realize such a thing, you were thankful. at least you no longer have to go through excessive explanations.

but there was something you would want to clarify.

“i used to like you a lot,” you said, giving an emphasis to the phrase: used to. a relieved sigh left your lips, satisfied with how everything was happening. it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. “you don’t have to worry now though, i’m gradually moving on.”

“still. you had to suffer from that for years,” he trailed. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay taeyoung.” your tight-lipped smile turned into a genuine one. the moment you shifted your gaze to look at taeyoung, you met his eyes. regardless of the pain it brought you, there was in no way you saw yourself blaming taeyoung. you liked him. and that summed it up. “your brightness was a blessing and never did i regret liking you despite the thorns and petals brought by it.”

his slightly soaked eyes were an indication of his former worry, which was slowly being washed away by a good amount of reassurance. “i’m glad.”

“you no longer have to worry about the roses, taeyoung.” stripping down the photographs on your wall for the past days, you replaced them with other photographs. you were sure the delusion was coming to an end. yes, the roses were indeed beautiful. but its thorn wasn’t as astonishing. “it’s withering.”

a stray tear slipped out of your eye and taeyoung didn’t only catch the tear, his arms were wrapped around you in such a warm hug. you were sure no petals would come out of your lips again. the warmth that embraced your body conveyed a closing home.

it’s time to move out and find a home that has no garden.

you no longer despised the spring. the beautiful flowers surrounding the town were no longer catching distasteful looks from you. your lungs free from spring. hand wrapped around woobin’s, the warm rays of the remaining afternoon sunlight filtered through the thick leaves of the trees the two of you would pass by.

another book was published, all containing the last words for your former muse. the title didn’t hide anything, quite an obvious choice: kalopsia.

three times a week you would go out for a book signing while woobin, now your boyfriend, would fetch you every time. he was busy himself with the recording of his album which was to be released by the end of the month. but he never missed going to the venue where your book signing would take place. by now, he probably had about nine signed copies of your book.

“you experienced hanahaki as well, right?” you asked woobin as you passed by a shop that had orchids hanging on the wall. petals of lush yellow, pink and purple decorating it.

woobin chuckled, taken aback by your unexpected question. “i did.”

“how was it?”

“it was weird. i mean coughing out petals so suddenly.” he looked at you, only to see your furrowed brows. something that made him laugh once again. “what do you expect me to answer?”

“that made you realize that you like me?”

“don’t be silly. even before the first petal left my lips, i knew i already liked you.” a contented smile graced his brim. even before that, the way his heart would thump in his chest as if it had run a marathon, the way a dumb smile would hang on his lips once he saw you, the way he would be subconsciously adoring you while you were busy writing, the way he wanted to be beside you, the way he wished to hold you closer— it all happened before a petal of orchid escaped the confines of his mouth.

a faint blush became apparent on your cheeks, giving it such a cute color. “and up until now you still like me…”

“correction, it’s liked. past tense,” woobin said, laughing at how your expression shifted. he took a big step and stopped right in front of you, he turned to face you with his hand still holding yours. “now, i love you.”

the weather wasn’t as hot since the sun was preparing for the twilight, but your cheeks were. it was accompanied by the wild flutters in your stomach. letting go of woobin’s hand (a reflex to hide how flustered his words got you), your ears were enveloped by his sweet, sweet chuckle. you walked past through him in such rushed footsteps, a peal of laughter escaping your lips as you did so. “i can’t believe you had to say that in that way.”

however, you were not even that far from him when woobin caught you. your steps halted when he locked you in a back hug, giving your cheek a light peck which simply made it more flushed. “i love you more than you’d ever know,” he carefully whispered to your ear.

you chuckled at the gestures, his words tickling you. regardless of how playful it seemed to be, you knew woobin was dead serious with it. he detached himself from you, only to hold your hand once more and walk beside you.

glancing at your interlaced fingers, you leaned your head to his shoulder. “i love you too, woobin.”

“i love you so much, y/n,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand.

to be able to look at the flowers without thinking about how they budded in your body, to rest every evening without worrying about the petals disrupting your serene night, to be right next to the person you love and loves you, there was nothing else you could wish for.

the flowers in your chest had long ago stopped blooming. it went the same way with woobin. but little did you know... orchids started blooming on someone else’s body, slowly growing on the chest of the person who once caused you to have roses hugging your lungs.

and just like how you first found those roses beautiful, taeyoung thought those orchids were too.

[florencwrites]

ever since phoenix 〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay has earned himself the name dreamboat, short; dream. a mcyt spin on macgyver where reader deals with remnants of trauma.

(!) blood, mentions of emotional trauma, kidnapping (!)

"Soooo," Jack trailed cautiously. He was not a man of deliberation per se, however, he knew when a certain level of carefulness was needed. This was one of those times. "How are you and the missus?"

"Fine." Brief and effective. That's Clay for you. "Now is not exactly the time for relationship advice, Jack."

"So you agree, you need relationship advice." He scanned the room again, gun tight in his grip; leading his gaze. "Boxed yourself there, pal."

"Let's talk about this after I've disarmed this, alright?" A huff of annoyance from the crouching blonde, his face a mere few inches from the ticking device. A device that normally would've taken him barely a minute to take apart, but with his good friend hanging from his lips; it took a little longer than expected.

Jack, in response, cleared his throat loudly, raising his eyebrows in mock warning. "I'm just saying, something's not right and maybe genius over here needs some help." He rolled out the tension in his shoulders, his gun still pointed at the entrance. He shot his eyes back to his friends after his lack of reply, only to see him dropping the now useless device. "I don't need your help, we're doing fine."

Clay rose to his feet, dusting off his pants before pushing past Jack to head for the reinforced door. Of course, being the armed one of the two, Jack pushed himself back in front of him, clearing the hallways before continuing their journey through the complex. Their backs pressed against the rough concrete, bullet holes still decorating them almost entirely. Reaching a junction, Jack lowered himself slightly before peeking his head around the corner. "Clear."

The pair moved onto the next hallway, Clay mirroring his companion's steps almost entirely. "Come on, Dreamboat, just admit there's some things that little brain of yours just can't wrap itself around."

"There are many things my brain can't comprehend, love isn't one of them." He rolled his eyes, knowing fully well that Jack had his back turned to him anyways. "It's just chemistry, simple."

"You're wrong, I'm telling you." A sing-songy tone to his words, Jack taunted the blonde some more. "Chemistry's just the first step, my friend. After that, it's all up to you."

"We've got company."

"Fine, do your thing. We're talking about this later." A promise, one made while firing several rounds of bullets into enemy lines.

-

"You might be the dumbest genius I've ever met." Sheer annoyance laced the older man's tone, immediately tracing his words with a swirling sip of lukewarm beer. The other side of the dialogue, too, showed serious signs of irritation. A drawn-out groan while throwing his head back, Clay replied, "Fine, I'll bite. Why?"

"Well, where's the lady of the house?" He threw out the bait. However, Jack had neither been a man of patience, so as Clay opened his mouth to answer his rhetorical question, Jack already intercepted him, "Bet she's real tired, huh?"

"Yeah, how'd you- Nevermind." He glanced over the look on his friend's face, soon realizing he bit right into his hook.

A sigh, a genuine one. Reaching forward to lean his elbows onto his knees, staring into the flames of the firepit they had grown so used to. "So, what does she sleep in?"

"Dude! Gross, I'm not answering that."

"Bet it's that beige shirt of yours, right? The one with the big red letters." He never once averted his gaze to meet Clay's, keeping them entirely trained on the fire. Clay furrowed his eyebrows, his emerald eyes slowly making their way to the bottom left corner of his vision, a tell he often showed when deliberating his next move. He then, too, leaned forward to rest on his knees. Once again, mirroring Jack's motions. "It- it is."

"Please just tell me what's going on, Jack." And at last, his normally monotone features showed a glint of desperation.

"It's the last shirt you wore." Another swig of beer landed itself in his mouth, quickly swallowing before continuing, "You wanna know why she's always so tired when you see her?"

"I'll give you a hint, it's not Lyme's." Finally, a light chuckle from his side, followed by a faint hum in affirmation. "She doesn't sleep when you're gone, dude."

Finally, the pair met eyes. A saddened shimmer in both their glances, Jack continued, "All the signs are there."

A nearly audible click in the genius blonde's head. "She's been having nightmares."

"She's been having nightmares." Jack affirmed for him once again, "Trust me, I know what they look like."

They shared a pause of breath, allowing themselves to take a deep breath simultaneously. How could he have been so stupid, of course, she was having nightmares. All the things she went through back in April, all those questions he was forced to leave unanswered. The exhaustion radiating from her pale skin, for weeks now. Jack was right, she had been sleeping in his shirts constantly, sometimes even once he was sure he had put in the laundry basket just hours before. "God, I should have known."

"There's nothing you could've done, Dream." Another sweet reassurance, one that didn't mean a whole lot to him right now.

"I could've known- I should've known." He abruptly pushed himself from his seat, leaving his emptied bottle by the pit. "She doesn't feel safe here."

"I don't think that's it, mate, I think she just feels unsafe anywhere." He followed his friend's face to where it was now stood next to him on the patio, peering up to try and meet his eyes. "Anywhere that's not with you, probably."

"She doesn't deserve any of this." Pacing slowly between the pit and the wall a few feet from him, the man was wrecking himself with guilt, already. Quickly, Jack intervened, noticing his friend's 'spiraling look' from miles away. "Hey! Hey, hey. No one deserves this alright?"

"She should've never been there.." Running a hair through his locks, Clay sat back down by the fire. His head now covered by his hands, leaning forward to hide his features entirely in guilt and perhaps shame, too.

"That," A gentle pat landed itself on his back by Jack as he used his other hand to finish off his beer. "That, I agree with you, pal."

-

Sheer terror painted her face that day, bound and gagged in some concrete box. In the movies, they always say how it was 'cold and eerie', and however ghostly the situation might have been, there was no cold in this room. Not a single cooling breeze, just pure and unfiltered heat. The concrete was entirely warmed up, too, the only thing that refreshed her even in the slightest was the chilling nature of her shackles, the ones that restrained her to the sticky leather chair she was stuck in.

She assumed it was leather, she had no real way of knowing. Her vision had been blocked by some kind of rag, a different texture to the one that was balled up in her mouth. The duct tape used to secure it in place was pulling at her skin, uncomfortably so.

So, with her hands bound, vision blocked and mouth gagged, there were but two senses left to her. Three, if you include the dooming shadow of possible death that loomed in her head. She'd do anything to just hear his voice right now, he'd know what to do.

Instead of his voice, there was a soft ticking in the room. More specifically, on her abdomen. A scorching hot box was tightened to her abdomen, burning the feeling of its ticking into her mind. She was sure there'd been no way this thing was actually that hot, but the idea of it being stuck to her, it killing her, was enough to leave scars on her stomach.

The other sense that was left unaltered, was her nose. Her sense of smell. Iron, mold, sweat. The last two were logical. She'd been locked in there for hours, in the absolute heat of southern America, there was no way she wasn't sweating up a storm. Mold, she was probably in a basement somewhere, her feet had given away the concrete flooring. But iron, iron wasn't something you usually smelt. Rust, maybe. But this was metallic, and it wasn't from her shackles. If it were, she'd have smelt it was before now.

The screeching of a metal pipe on the concrete walls shook her, the gag keeping her from letting out a loud squeal. Someone was in here with her, for the first time in hours, someone was in here with her. A few faint tuts, heavy footsteps carrying themselves around her perimeter.

A sharp blade running itself along her cheek, barely not breaking skin. "Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik tok."

She scrunched her eyes even tighter as a hand dropped onto her head. The single thing that brought her comfort right now was the fact that there was no way this lunatic would detonate the bomb on her abdomen while in the room with her. "Wonder what's taking him so long, aren't you?"

He stopped talking, his steps carrying him back to wherever he came from. However, his taunting continued in her head for the coming hours she was left to fend for her own. Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik tok.

What's taking him so long?

-

She struggled immensely against her restraints, abruptly having been awoken by cold hands on her sides. The man's hands hadn't ever been this cold before, they were horribly sweaty and warm, almost to a sticky extent. "Shhhh."

Familiarity washed over her body, her muscles almost instantly untightening at the sound of him. "You have to stay still for me, okay? I have to get this thing off you first."

"Dream, unblind the poor girl first, will ya?" Jack's mellow voice called out from a few feet beside her. The rag was gently pulled from eyes. His assuring tone filled her ears, his comforting face inches from hers. God, she'd never been this happy to see Jack. "There she is."

She tried desperately to get some words out, however, her mouth was still filled with cloth, and while hesitant, she knew there was probably a good reason they hadn't taken it off yet. "Water! Water, get her some water, she's gonna need it." Jack was quick to order one of the agents to get her something to drink, knowing the feeling very well, having been kidnapped a dozen times back in his day.

"It's connected to another device," Clay exclaimed from before her, his hands very carefully working around the wires connecting her to this bomb. For some reason, it had been scarier in her mind, when she hadn't been able to see it. Now, seeing it rest on her stomach didn't scare her nearly as much as the menacing ticking that had haunted her for so long. "Riley, do we know who's behind this?"

A faint hum from the wire in his ear, she couldn't decipher it. Meanwhile, Jack was rattling her shackles, trying to at least free her hands. However, according to her boyfriend, not a very good idea, "Don't!"

"What? You scared she'll strangle you?" A mocking choice of words from her dear friend, almost allowing her to chuckle. The drought in her throat, however, still wouldn't allow her to make a single peep. "No, Jack, taking off the chains would detonate this entire thing, like the gag."

Jack formed an 'o' with his mouth, shooting his eyes around the room in slight embarrassment, "Where's that water the lady ordered?"

For some reason, the minutes after they had found her felt impossibly longer than the hours she had spent alone. Nevertheless, after 24 minutes exactly, there was a breakthrough. His voice soft, gentle, Clay carefully removed his fingers from the device while simultaneously asking for Jack to put his back on."Okay, try again."

A loud snap and several clangs later, her hands were freed, eyes crunched in expectancy of death, it didn't seem to come. Hastily, she clawed at her mouth, only now realizing the rag had been encased in metal bars and colored wires. Dream carefully lifted the contraption from her face, immediately letting her fall into his arms sobbing.

And so, he let her cry. Bawl her eyes out, drown out the sheer terror she must've felt during these hours he had lost her. He ran his arms around her back, pulling her impossibly tight into his own torso. "You're okay, you're okay."

"I've got you, I've always got you."

-

The night following his conversation with Jack was the first night Clay had seen her cry since that day.

She sobbed into his arms as he assured her that she would always be safe, no matter where he was or what happened between them. He would always keep her safe.

The nightmares disappeared when she was with him because there had never been a doubt in her mind that she was safe when she was with him. She slept incomparably well the first days after every mission, because even if he wasn't in the bed next to her; she knew he was there. She slept well, because the smell of his shirt encased her every sense, rendering it impossible for her to not feel safe, with his cologne evident lingering through her sheets.

[midnights-song]

“Explain, now!” Damian Wayne x Hero!Reader

Request: Damian’s girlfriend is a super hero without his knowledge, straight down to the powers. Damian is unaware of this until one day he finds out the hard way.

A/N: Y’all I swear If its not one thing its twenty others! Finally get everything fixed and then I get sick and injured. Typical. Anyways, this has been a work in progress for so long so I can only hope it pleases you @stormcloud12

Note: Damian is 18 for the purpose of this story, there will be creations of my own in this, so please be warned and understanding!!

 Gotham, you never could quite understand what everyone had against it, the city held a pull that drew everyone in. The rain particularly, seeing as you had come from a place that didn’t get much rain, or even clouds for that matter. You loved the city in all of its darkness, but when it came to the crime that threatened the streets it was a different story. You could understand why all of the Gothamites seemed, disturbed. 

 You had just turned the ever so lucky 18 when you first went to the city, rebelling against your overprotective parents in a show of ‘I am an adult now, I can do whatever I want!’ Oh how wrong you were! Not even twenty minutes in the city, you had been mugged and you met the ever infamous Robin. You guessed that you were one of the lucky souls that just happened to be reasonably close to him for him to hear your screams, because you could tell his uniform was hastily thrown on. Now it still covered his identity, but it was unusually crumpled, like it had been folded less than a minute ago. 

 After the mugging fiasco, like any insane person would, you decided that you rather enjoyed the city. Within a few weeks you had secured a job, it wasn’t well paying but it was enough to get an apartment and groceries. You walked to work every day, it was decently close to your apartment complex. You decided that you loved animals more than anything else in this world and had gotten a job down at the shelter and the local veterinarian’s office! How exciting!

 You had one client though that you particularly loved to see, and that was a Great Dane named Titus. Now his owner was a bit, different, you could say. Damian wasn’t much of a talker, but the second you got Titus into a room everything changed. He asked so many questions about your level of knowledge, why he should trust you with his animal, and then some! Eventually though after some repeated visits because Titus decided to become a doggy pincushion with complications (no Damian, I swear those are cacti needles, yes Damian I know what cacti look like!), Damian appeared to get more and more relaxed around you. He even invited you out to a cafe one day to have cinnamon buns together, they were delicious!

 Before you knew it, numbers were exchanged and good morning texts turned into phone calls that would last for hours. There were sometimes though that his end of the phone calls would sound a little weird, but you couldn’t question it because most of the time you two were on the phone you would be training or working out even though we all know you wanted to curl up on the couch and watch Netflix with a lap full of food.

 “Y/N/N!” A deep voice with a very slight accent drug you out of your sleep deprived haze, you had a long night last night and you were bound to have an even longer day today.

 “Ye-ees?” Your response turned into a question as you turned and saw Damian with a single red rose. Raising a brow, you watched as he blushed a bit and cleared his throat. ‘Okay’, you admitted to yourself, ‘this is quite unusual for Damian of all people to be blushing like a school girl.’

 “I was wondering if you would accompany me on a date, tonight?” He held the rose out to you as a sign of good faith, smiling slightly and blushing harder when you squealed and took it. 

 “Of course! Oh!” You stopped to smell the rose, thankfully it wasn’t overwhelming and it wasn’t pollinated so you didn’t sneeze like no tomorrow! “Of course I’ll go on a date with you? What should I wear?”

 After about three hours of nothing but pure panic, your curling iron toting best friend came to your rescue to help you get ready. They knew what you needed, and boy did they set out to AMAZE! And amaze they did, your date with Damian went so well that you soon went on a second, then a third and a fourth. Before you knew it your quiet yet outspoken and arrogant interest had asked you out, in the shyest way. His dating proposal as he had called it came in the form of a Y/F/D pup. So tiny and full of wiggles!

 You swore he would forever hold your heart the second he set the pup in your arms, tears overwhelming you from the cuteness of the pup and him admitting his feelings. You didn’t know what to do with yourself until you were pulled into a warm chest. He smelt like sandalwood, eucalyptus and a slight tinge of musk that could only be described as him. 

 It took a year or two for him to tell you that he was Robin, and suddenly a lot more had begun to make sense to you. Like how he always came home with split knuckles or random blood stains on clothes that shouldn’t have blood stains. You couldn’t get mad at him, you honestly couldn’t because you were hiding an even bigger secret from him. What your loving boyfriend did not know about you, was that you were a meta, and you were a member of a secret task force called STARS. You weren’t exactly hero’s, but you weren’t exactly villain’s either. 

 You did what had to be done, no matter the cost. Or at least that’s the way it was before you got involved with Dami. You caught yourself hesitating more on missions disguised as visits to home. It wasn’t until one ever fateful night that Damian had found out, and good lord he was furious with you. Even going so far as to swear at you in Arabic, his anger making him revert to his mother tongue.

  “Damian! Damian, stop!” You cried out before his rapidly approaching form, you held a portal open before you and if he got any closer you would have to close it. Once you saw the anger on his face and in his eyes, you bit your tongue and quickly closed it. 

 “Explain yourself, now, Y/N.” His tone left no room for nonsense and he had made it clear he wanted the truth and now.

 “I know I haven’t been exactly honest, but I haven’t had a choice Dami. I couldn’t get you on STAR’s radar any more than what you already were! They came after me when I was a child, I had shown these, abilities.” You spat the word out like it was a curse. In a way, it was. “I was given these abilities at the cost of my childhood. They made me learn witchcraft, chaos magics, teleportation...” You went on to explain what had happened and just how much it had cost you. It cost you more than everything, it cost you the meaning of living until you had met Damian. 

 He had stayed silently stewing the whole time until you had shown him your hand, glowing a soft grey color as you let him see the real you. The you that was cursed with a burden of knowledge that no other should have. 

 “The mission.” You started, clearing your throat. “The mission was to prevent someone from waking the warlock beneath Gotham, and the mission was a success. I didn’t know that the Bat and his family would be in on it either, Dami, otherwise I would have told you. I would have told you everything. I swear.”

 He looked into your E/C orbs for a moment, shaking his head and pulling you into a hug. “Here I was worried about having to teach you to defend yourself.”

 Smiling to yourself, you hugged him back, enjoying the feel of his body against yours. There were no words that could express how you felt in this moment, but you thanked every witch and deity before you for not letting you down.

A/N: Whew! Sorry that was so long and all over the place folks! Pain meds and muscle relaxers tend do to that to ya! Let me know what you think and please, if I messed something up please tell me in a polite manner otherwise I will probably ignore it!

Word count: 1494

[satonthelotuspier]

❄️ Untamed Winter Fest 2019 ❄️

Day 4 - Decorating - 1.7k - Continuation of Day 2 

Lan Xichen knocked on the door of Jiang Wanyin’s apartment, hoping he was the first to arrive. He had a bottle of wine and nibbles intended for later, much later, after the rest of Wanyin’s family had finished making their decorations and taken them and their sleepy children home, and a selfish want for a little of his boyfriend’s time to himself before the others turned up.

He thought their relationship was getting towards the point where they needed to have the talk about moving in together, but he felt it was fair to leave that topic until after the holidays and all the busyness they entailed, unless Wanyin brought it up earlier of course.

Jiang Wanyin opened the door at that point, and all thought left his head at the sight of his boyfriend, dressed in faded old jeans and a purple v-neck jumper that looked as soft as a rabbit’s fur to touch. How did he manage to make being fully dressed look inviting?

“You’re a little earlier than I expected you” Jiang Wanyin told him stepping back to allow him into the apartment, “But that’s great, you can help me put the tree up and the lights on”

“Anything you want” Xichen agreed as Wanyin closed the door behind him.

But first.

He bent the short distance needed to be able to press a kiss against Wanyin’s unsuspecting mouth.

The brief kiss was over far too quickly for Xichen’s liking, but his family would be arriving any time, and they did have all night later. It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to spend a few extra minutes hugging his boyfriend though. “I wish you had time to seriously muss me up before your family arrive” he murmured regretfully, brushing a lock of hair off of Wanyin’s forehead.

The other pushed him away to arms length at his comment, with a “How can your face be so damn thick as to keep spouting things like that?” he complained, flushing helplessly.

“How can yours be so thin that you’re still blushing at this stage of our relationship?” Xichen asked in amusement.

“Who’s blushing?” Wanyin’s voice rose a decibel or two.

“Oh, no one, no one” Xichen placed a kiss on the jut of Wanyin’s cheekbone, anointing the flush, before pulling away regretfully. “Lets get the tree” he heard Wanyin pull a breath of relief in, so he couldn’t help but add, “Will you promise to muss me up completely later?”

It had the desired effect, and Wanyin’s face flamed.

#

Jiang Cheng’s apartment was in a modern building, and the living space was open and airy, with floor to ceiling windows down one side of the room. It didn’t take them long to get the tree into place in the corner next to the windows, and they worked together to get the white lights strung and spread out to perfection just as the first knock on the door announced Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, with their eight year old son Jin Ling.

Jiang Yanli bustled in with a container and her usual friendly cheer, “I brought dessert” she informed and paused to hug Jiang Cheng, “You like almond cookies, right?” she asked Xichen as she also gave him a hug.

“Of course, who doesn’t?” Xichen responded.

Jiang Cheng could tell, despite how comfortable Xichen was with personal contact within their relationship he was still surprised by casual touch outside of that. But Yanli had always been someone who showed her love through touch with her family, which extended by default to her family’s family. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian had grown up with it so it was the norm for them, whereas, from what Jiang Cheng had gleaned from both Lan Wangji and Xichen, theirs had been a much more restrained household. It was a wonder Xichen was as demonstrative as he was with Jiang Cheng.

He watched, not realising what a sappy smile had curled his mouth as Xichen took the container from Yanli and fussed over her, automatically turning on his charm, the full focus of which was enough to make anyone swoon. He had her coat and hat, had her sat comfortably on the sofa and her preference for tea before she even realised what had happened.

“Apparently the Jiangs are particularly weak to the Lan charm” Zixuan teased Jiang Cheng, who was saved from having to make any response beyond a flush of embarrassment by the second, much more chaotic arrival of Wei Wuxian and his little family.

“A-Yuan take your coat off” Wei Wuxian grabbed hold of the back of A-Yuan’s collar, because he had seen Jin Ling and dashed forward in excitement, while Wuxian was only half out of his own shoes and coat, Lan Wangji stood at the back clucking over them both like an overworked mother hen as they turned taking off outwear into a complex ritual.

It didn’t take long to settle the noisy lot, serve drinks, and have all the crafting materials handed around ready for their afternoon of decoration making.

“We’re counting on you two to make some really great paper chains this year” Wei Wuxian told Jin Ling and Lan Yuan, both of whom agreed excitedly.

“But you’re going to help, right Uncle?” Jin Ling demanded.

“You bet I am” he agreed and Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. The boys had always absolutely idolised Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng told him it was because he was the same mental age as a child so they were always on the same wavelength.

“I’m going to order pizza, yell what you want” Jiang Cheng threw into the ring, and his family didn’t disappoint him.

Lan Xichen looked a little lost at the racket, but Jiang Cheng easily picked out the  different requests shouted at him, each one over the top of the previous.

Once pizza was ordered he was dragged into the melee on the floor, making chains with his nephews and brother.

It was a noisy, chaotic, very Jiang-family afternoon. He noticed Lan Wangji and Xichen have to disappear to the kitchen occasionally, ostensibly to “make tea” but really just to take a break from the chaos. Jin Zixuan joined them once or twice, but after a decade of marriage into the family he was almost completely immune to it now.

They ate pizza and almond cookies, talked, laughed and bickered back and forth and strung paper chains and lanterns together until the sky outside darkened. Eventually Xichen was allowed to put some of the paper chains on the tree while Yanli supervised him, and A-Yuan and A-Ling hung the paper lanterns from random branches. Then they all stood back to observe their joint effort.

“Perfect” Yanli said, an arm around each of the boys’ shoulders and she hugged them into her sides.

“Not quite. But I know what’s missing” Xichen said and went to the kitchen, returning with a presentation box.

He brought it over to Jiang Cheng and held it out with the lid up.

“It’s missing just this I think”

Jiang Cheng’s stomach flipped inside him, and then dropped completely.

He reached out with a shaking hand to accept the purple tinted cut glass lotus flower Xichen held out to him.

It was the single most beautiful piece of craftsmanship he’d ever seen. It has a small tinkling bell and a beautiful shaded purple tassel hanging from the underside of the lotus.

“There’s one for Yanli and Wuxian too” Xichen held the box out to the other two who’d moved closer to look. They each took the lotus ornament obviously meant for them from the box, one almost identical to Jiang Cheng's for Yanli and a dark grey lotus with a red tassel for Wuxian, both of their touches gentle and reverent.

“How did you-?” Jiang Cheng cut the question off, because of course Wangji would know about the lotus being so important to his family, “Where did you-?” he tried, but that wasn’t even important. “This is beautiful, and completely perfect. You’re right, it is what’s missing from the tree” Jiang Cheng saw the pleasure his compliment had caused his boyfriend turn quickly to surprise as he launched himself at Xichen, arms around his neck, “Thank you so much” he didn’t even realise he was crying until Xichen rubbed his back and made soothing noises.

Of course that set Yanli crying, holding the lotus to her chest she wrapped the other arm around Xichen and Jiang Cheng, crying into Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, “This is so lovely, I can’t thank you enough” she managed to hiccup out.

And of course Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be out-done, wrapping his arms around them all. “Thanks Xichen I’ve always said you’re one of the best brother-in-laws I have” he propped his chin on Jiang Cheng’s other shoulder, his automatic humour-to-hide-emotion not doing a good enough job because there were tears rolling down his cheeks.

When he finally managed to break free Jiang Cheng pulled Lan Xichen over to the tree, to hang the crystal lotus ornament from one of the highest branches with him, almost like it was a ceremony.

“Perfect” Yanli said again, and this time no one said otherwise.

#

On the whole, Lan Xichen had had a very enjoyable day. It had been noisy and disordered and completely overwhelming on occasion, but he hoped to be involved in hundreds more similar days with Jiang Wanyin, Wangji and the rest of their family in the future.

He hummed his satisfaction, head resting against Wanyin’s chest where they cuddled together on the sofa in the dark, the only illumination from the Christmas tree lights and their reflection of the multicoloured paper decorations that had been made that afternoon.

Wanyin’s hand brushed through his hair in a repeated and extremely soothing brush.

It was fair to say with the combination of the exhaustion of dealing with Jiang Wanyin’s  boisterous family, the wine they’d drunk together this evening, and the soft, rhythmic stroke of Wanyin’s fingers in his hair he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

So he stopped fighting the feeling and let sleep take him.

He didn’t know whether he really heard the “I love you” or whether it was his dreaming mind playing tricks on him.

Day 4 down and the second outing for these two. Think there’s likely two more outings for them over the course of the month but the ideas I’m playing with fit into later prompts.

[skiesoftwilight]

Forever Star-Crossed (Jason Todd)

This was a pain in the ass to write! but like a good, challenging pain in the ass lmao. I’ve had this request in my inbox and I believe it was like the second or first one and I’m now just putting it out??? (Anon, I’m sorry.) I had such a straightforward plot, but I guess I struggle with too many specifics?? I don’t know. Also, I didn’t realize it until I was almost done with it, but the plot is kind of like the Great Gatsby, but my writing can do no justice to that amazing story. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! Especially the Anon who requested it, if you’re still out there lol :)

Requested by: Anon

hey I love your writing! I saw requests were open and I was wondering if you could write something where jay is best friends with a girl and he’s secretly in love with her but she’s dating Hal (the green lantern protege? I’m not 100% sure thats his name?) and he stops by her window one day only to see her baking cookies and dancing around in the kitchen with Hal listening to painkiller by ruel and being a cute couple and its just him being all angsty 

Word Count: 6432

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The soft clicking of your heels against the pavement rang throughout the dark and desolate city streets of Gotham. The few people that had dared to come out at this time of night were watching you carefully, sizing you up to see what kind of threat you posed if any. You ignored their mysterious gazes and continued on with your phone conversation.

“What’s the plan for dinner?” You asked. A yawn crept up on you and escaped from between your lips. “I just got off work and I’m starving.”

“I don’t know. I just home myself,” A deep sigh fell from his mouth on the other end, “Do you want me to come get you? I’m still dressed, I don’t—”

“I’ll be just fine walking,” A soft laugh fell from your lips as your watchful gaze surveyed the area around you, “I swear you forget who you’re dealing with from time to time.”

A deep chuckle sounded from the other line, “You’re right. Sorry. I guess I’ll be seeing you soon then?”

“Yeah, give me about fifteen minutes,” Your lips curled at the edges, “Maybe when I get home, we can—”

A hand had clamped down on your shoulder from behind and jerked you backward, making you stumble. A gasp fell from your lips and your eyes grew wide as you watched a lonesome thug tug on the strap of your purse, yanking it from your shoulder ripping it from your grasp. The minute he pulled your purse free, he took off down the street, making a hard right into an alley.

“(Y/N)? Hey, what happened?” His voice rose with worry laced into his tone, “(Y/N)!”

“I’m still here,” A shaky breath left your lips as you stood up straight. Your gaze hardened as you leaned down to tighten the straps on your heels. “A damn thug just stole my purse…I’ll have to call you back; I’ll be home a little later than expected.”

Before he could speak another word, you ended the call and ran after the thug. All you could focus on was finding the thief and getting your purse back; it was a gift from your father after all. 

Coming upon the alley that the thug had turned down, you stopped yourself and took a deep breath before marched right down the dimly lit path. Your eyes narrowed, watching every shadow move as you walked. Your fists were clenched and your whole body tense; you were ready for a fight.

The sound of rats scurrying across the street pulled your attention towards a flickering light above a dumpster. You caught sight of a body laying on top of the trash bags, not moving. Slowly approaching the body, you realized it was the thug that had just attacked you moments ago; your purse was nowhere near his body and it drew in your curiosity. 

Leaning down beside the body, you hesitantly reached for his hand, checking for a pulse. Worry started to build up in your chest when you couldn’t find his pulse. Your hand crept up to his neck, but just before you could touch his skin, a voice stopped you.

“He’s not dead.”

You jumped up from the ground and turned to see where the voice had come from; yet, all you could see was darkness. You spun around in a full circle, your fists still clenched and your hardened gaze staring into pure darkness.

“One punch and he was out.” The voice spoke again, this time a little louder. “I swear these criminals used to be tough and now? Well, they’re just growing soft.”

“I didn’t need your help,” You stated, looking in the direction where you last heard the voice, “I had it perfectly under control.”

“Was letting him get a head start a part of you keeping it under control?” The voice teased.

“Show yourself,” You demanded, your voice harsh.

The person stepped out of the shadows, slowly making his way to stand a few feet away from you. Wearing a leather jacket, black pants, combat boots, and holding your purse wasn’t what disturbed you but the red helmet masking his face and the red modified bat symbol on his chest that shown every time his leather jacket shifted. 

“Red Hood.” You stated, your hardened gaze never leaving his masked one.

“You know me?” He questioned, raising his hand to cover his chest, “I’m flattered. I guess word still travels fast in this city of rats.”

“Word gets around, but through a different circle,” You corrected him, “Who are you underneath that helmet? I don’t like strange, masked, crusaders in this city, there’s already too many of them running around.”

“A friend from long ago…” His voice lowered, a hint of sadness is what you believed you heard.

“You’re not any friend of mine,” You responded. Your hands stayed clenched at your sides. He  lowered his head and rested a hand on his hip, showing off the pistol on his side, “You better start talking or this won’t end well for you.”

A deep laugh fell from his lips, “You’re still like I last remember you…acting all tough when you’re really a big softie…” He looked down at your purse and tossed it back and forth between his hands, “I’m surprised you still have this. I’m guessing you’re still buddy-buddy with him, aren’t you?”

“What?” Confusion crept on your face as you believed he was referring to Bruce.

He tossed the purse at you, watching you catch it in your hands. Confusion and irritation were clear on your face as you watched him reach behind his helmet and start to pull it off. Your eyes grew wide and your whole body felt weak as you saw a face that you thought you would never see again.

“J-J,” You stuttered, struggling to let his name leave your lips for the first time in so many years, “Jason?”

“In the flesh.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, stumbling backward, “I-It can’t be, you’re dead...I was there for your funeral…I saw you laying in that casket…”

“I was, but some crazy things happened that I can’t explain and I don’t know why, but I’m back.”

“You’re not supposed to be here! I’m losing my mind…” You shouted, your hands pushing your disheveled hair out of your face.

He saw the terrified expression on your face, the blank look in your eyes…it pained him to see you like this. “Hey, I know just seeing me is a lot to take in—”

“I—I just got…I—I can’t do this right now…I got to go.”

“(Y/N), wait.”

Ignoring his pleas for you to stay, you ran out of the alley, not even sparing a glance behind you in fear that your past would be following you. Coming up to the steps of your apartment complex, you flung the door open and slammed it shut, pressing your back firmly against it.

Running a shaky hand through your hair, you took a deep breath and began to make your way up to your apartment door, trying to push the night’s events deep down and towards the back of your mind.

Standing in front of your apartment door, you unclipped your house keys from your purse and unlocked the door and quickly stepped inside, locking it behind you. Resting your head against the wooden door, you shut your eyes and groaned.

“Hey,” His mirthful voice pulled you from your mind, causing you to turn to look at him, “I can see you got your purse back,” His smile faded the moment he saw a glint of sadness in your eyes, “Is there something wrong? Did something happen?”

You shook your head as you set the purse down on the counter, “No, uh, just a stressful day at work and you know, that thug stealing my purse. I’m fine.”

He made his way over to you, wrapping you in his warm embrace, “Iif you want to talk about it, we can?”

Shaking your head, you looked up at him, “I rather not.”

He hummed in response, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “About dinner, I was thinking we could go out to that new joint down the street?”

“No,” You quickly answered, moving away from his embrace, “Let’s just stay inside and order something? I’m too tired to deal with anyone else’s BS right now.”

“Alright, that’s fine with me.” He smiled and walked over to the kitchen to grab some of the take-out brochures you two saved from other lazy nights in.

While he was calling out places that you might want, you half-heartedly answered as you rummaged through your purse, looking for your phone to text Bruce and see if you were going crazy or not. As your fingers sifted through the old grocery receipts and empty gum wrappers, you felt a rough piece of paper touch your fingertips. Pulling it out from your purse, you saw that there was a number scribbled on it and a single name in under the last digits: Jay.

An audible groan mixed with a cry left your lips as you crumpled the paper up and tossed it back in your purse. Moving to join him the kitchen to look at the food menus, he made you laugh and did his best to pull you out of your sudden sadness. You physically lightened up, but on the inside, you were dying to know what the hell you just witnessed.

Sitting in a coffee shop, you pulled the crumpled paper from your purse and laid it on the table. The sloppily-written name awoken a wide range of feelings and emotions that you thought you could never feel again and it scared you. Your shaky hands reached for the paper, gently smoothing out the wrinkles before grabbing your phone and slowly putting each number into the dial-pad.

Resting your elbows on the table and letting a hand cover your mouth while the other held the suddenly heavy phone next to your ear, you listened to it ring. You counted them out, one…two…three…four…after the fourth ring, you were about to hang up before you heard the line pick up and his voice come through on the other side.

“Hello?”

You froze, not knowing what to say. Staring at the name on the paper in front of you, you slowly opened your mouth to speak, your voice barely audible, “Hey…”

“(Y/N)?” Jason’s tone was soft and soothing which reminded you of the old times. “Hey, I was wondering when you would call…”

“A-Are you busy? Right now?” You asked, your whole body slowly relaxing as you fiddled with the paper.

“No, not really,” He spoke, shuffling around on his end of the line, “Is there something wrong?”

“Can we t-talk?” You inquired. Your gaze bounced back and forth from the paper to the window you were situated by, trying to distract your nerves before they overwhelmed you.

“Sure,” Jason responded. You could just picture the smile on his face at your request, “Just send me your location and I’ll be there.”

Mumbling a brief goodbye, you hung up the phone and sent him the address. You tried to mentally prepare yourself for the upcoming conversation, prepping questions that you’ve been thinking about ever since you saw him: How long had he been resurrected? Where was he? Why did he come back to Gotham of all places after all this time? You had so many questions, you just hoped that you could actually ask them if you don’t get overwhelmed.

While deep in your thoughts, you heard the door chime behind you. Turning to look at who it could be, your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes grew wide once again. You saw him stepping inside, looking around until his gaze met yours; his gaze felt so heavy, you turned away, waiting for him to approach you.

“Hey there…”

His voice was soft, yet it sounded more mature than when you last heard it years ago. Without looking up at him, you gestured for him to take a seat. Listening to your weak commands, he sat in the chair and quietly fiddled with the sugar packets on the table.

“Thank you for coming,” You mumbled, trying to get yourself to relax in his presence and gain the courage to look at him at least once, “I didn’t know if you were busy or not, but I made the call because…I want answers. I’m sure you want some too.”

Nodding his head, “No problem, all of my work is carried out in the night but even then I got nothing going on, so don’t ever be afraid to call me at any time.”

“Noted.” The single word fell from your lips, but nothing else came after. 

The conversation fell into a tense silence before it hardly began. Jason continued to fiddle with the sugar packets while you gently stirred your coffee. The two of you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His mere presence was bugging you; you were dying to ask your first question, you just didn’t know how to phrase it.

Your mind was screaming at you to look at him, just once, but you were struggling to let your gaze wander any higher than his lips. From what you could see, his face had not changed much, other than having short, thin scars from blades. Daring to let your eyes wander higher, your curious gaze met with his and you froze, not sure if you should look away or let his intense blue eyes see right through you. Your gaze was held in his and you could’ve sworn you saw a spark in his.

“How were you…resurrected?” You blurted out, your eyes grew wide as you surveyed the other tables around you, making sure no one was trying to listen in.

A deep sigh fell from his lips, “That’s a complicated story, but I’ll shorten it. I mysteriously woke up in my coffin and crawled to the surface where, Talia, Bruce’s little flame, took me in and tossed me in that Lazarus pit next to Ra’s. She helped me get a grip on my new life…I met new allies, traveled a lot, learned new skills.” 

“You just crawled out of your grave?” You whisper-shouted, shielding your mouth from other people; your childish side kicking in as you pictured Jason all muddy, springing from his grave, “Like a zombie?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, like a zombie.”

“All that stuff you learned, I’m guessing that’s what created Red Hood?” You asked, connecting pieces of his story together.

“You got it.” Jason confirmed your suspicions, “I think I learned more than Bruce, but don’t tell him that.”

“Red Hood…” You paused, thinking about all the things you heard from the briefings from Bruce and the others, “I’ve heard you killed people before? Is it true?”

Jason looked up at you, his voice turning serious, “I don’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it, just know that. I’m not a savage, I just take crime-fighting another step further, a step Bruce is too scared to take.”

“Does Bruce even know that you’re back?” You asked, sipping your coffee, “I’m sure he would be delighted to see you, in the flesh, after all these years…”

“He knows. He was the first person I encountered upon stepping one foot in this city.” He answered, rolling his eyes at the mention of his former mentor, “I’ve met the rest of the brood too. They’ve got personalities, but they don’t stray far from B’s, that’s for sure.”

“Wait, you know of the others?” You asked, furrowing your brow, “How long have you been back in the city?”

“I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks,” He reassured you, placing his palms on the table, “I wasn’t even supposed to stay this long, let alone be back here. I was only coming to tie up some loose ends on a job I was working, but things got…complicated…”

“What the hell, Jason?” You eyes narrowed, “You didn’t think to at least try and see me sooner? I was thinking that it was only in my dreams that I would see you, my dearest friend, alive again, but it turns out you’ve been alive for quite some time.”

“I told you, things got complicated…” He restated, giving you a sullen look. Hearing his name and friend being used in the same sentence by you hurt him, but he was more upset at the fact that you were upset at him for not coming to you sooner.

“Well, what was the complication?” You inquired, crossing your arms to look him in the eyes. You wanted answers, and you were going to get them.

“I can’t tell you that right now. You wouldn’t understand it.” He muttered, barely audible to your ears. There was a sad look in his eyes, but before you could comment on it, it was replaced with a glint of happiness and curiosity, “Enough talking about me, I want to know more about you and what you’ve been up to.”

A small smile crept onto your lips, “My story isn’t nearly as interesting as yours.”

“That’s okay,” He reassured you, his goofy smile appearing, “I just wanna know more about you.”

Mumbling some words, you let out a sigh, “I don’t live at the manor anymore; I left the day after I turned eighteen. Dick let me stay with him for a while, but I didn’t stay long and left. I struggled for a while without Bruce’s help, but I managed,” You smiled, thinking about all your accomplishments, “I got myself a normal job, normal friends…In a way, I kinda got a second chance at life.”

“You seem to be doing pretty well all on your own; I’m happy for you,” He smiled, yet he leaned in closer to you, his gaze surveying the other people around you before continuing, “Are you still running around in the dark?”

“Oh no,” You shook your head, “Bruce offered me the mantle a couple years after your “departure”, but I turned it down; I turned down any type of caped crusader gigs that a bunch of people offered me, but I didn’t leave that life behind completely. I’m still deeply involved in those affairs; I actually work with someone who’s a member of the League.”

Jason’s attention was peaked when he heard the word “partner” leave your lips, “Oh really? Who is it? Barry? Clark?—You were always his favorite—Diana? Arthur? Hal?”

A small laugh left your lips as you watched his calm expression turn to a more exciting one. “No, no, none of those guys; it’s someone who has a lesser role in all of it, but still important nonetheless. I just can’t tell you: League rules.” You shrugged your shoulders.

Jason nodded, letting a light chuckle slip from between his lips, “I see. You can keep your secrets.” 

Silence filled the air. After finally warming up to one another, you two felt like you had said what you needed to say during this meeting. While you were comfortable with the silence, sipping on your coffee and watching the people walk past the window, Jason fiddled with his fingers, deciding if he should bring up a last minute thought.

“Hey, uh, this might sound like a stupid question after all these years, but…” he paused, looking at your hands placed on the table and slowly let his gaze come to meet your intrigued gaze, “Do you still consider us friends? Even after all these years?”

Your brow furrowed and your fingers tapped on the edges of the table, “I don’t see why not, but things between us have changed, Jason. We aren’t wards under Bruce anymore, we’ve both grown and matured and became two individual people,” You sighed, “We built complex, yet somewhat stable lives and if you’re looking to go back to the past…well, we just can’t.”

“The only thing I want to bring back from my past is you,” He confessed, the sad glint in his eye returning for just a split second, “I missed you the most out of everything else from my first life and I would love for you to be in my second one as well.”

Your soft smile appeared at his kind words, making his grow. “I’d be happy to try to pick up where we left off, Jason, but…” Jason froze, “If things don’t work out the way we hoped, well, then we can’t force it, okay? Maybe we can’t be best friends, but we can maybe settle for just the simple title of friends, yeah?”

Your use of his name and friend in the same sentence killed him, but he didn’t show it; instead, his goofy grin grew and he held out his hand for you to shake, “I can live with that.”

With smiles both gracing your grown faces, you reached for his extended hand, but before you could graze your fingertips against his, your phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up to alert you that he was calling; Jason’s gaze darted to the phone and took note of the caller ID: My Artist. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” You apologized before standing up from the table and walking outside the shop to have your conversation.

He watched you stand outside, walking back and forth, talking with a never faltering smile on your lips; his heart jumped when he could’ve sworn he saw and heard your muffled laugh. The smile on Jason’s own lips was reduced to the slight curling at the corners as he saw that your happiness was coming from someone other than him.

When your call had ended, you dismissed yourself from yours and Jason’s conversation to handle some League affairs, but you reassured him that you two would spend more time together soon. With a verbal goodbye and a slightly awkward handshake initiated on your part, you both parted ways.

“And that’s the last time Dick let me borrow his car.” You laughed, snatching up the nearly empty beer bottle off the coffee table to down the last drops. Slamming the bottle back down on the table and leaning against the couch from your spot on the floor, shrugging your shoulders and raising your hands, “I barely hit anything and the stuff I did hit? The dents on his car weren’t even that bad…”

“You took out a parking meter and somehow pinned a hotdog cart with the passenger side on his car,” Jason struggled to keep his laugh in check, but failed miserably, letting his head fall back onto the armrest of his sofa, undoubtedly picturing you standing by the car, mortified, explaining to Dick how it happened, “I think the dents were pretty bad. That whole story is an example as to why Bruce never let you drive the Batmobile.”

“He never let you either! Come to think of it, he never even taught you.” You countered, throwing a finger in his direction.

“Touché.”

Your melodious laughter was music to Jason’s ears. He watched you double over, wiping the stray tears of happiness from the creases of your eyes as you stood up to fetch yourself another beer from the kitchen. Jason listened to your side comments about the story, but all he could do was chuckle at a memory he wished he shared with you.

These types of moments between you and Jason had been going on for the last couple of weeks, non-stop. You would call him up after work every day and you two would hang out at the coffee shop or at his apartment to reminisce about the old times between you two or the stories you had from living at the manor and watching each new Robin come into their own identities. 

“Got any stories from your travels that you would like to share?” You asked while setting a beer on the table in front of him. “I’m still thinking of some other ones…”

“Nah, I like your stories better,” He admitted, sitting up once again to look at you laying on the floor, a goofy smile taking over your usual composed one, “What I’m learning from you and your stories is that you haven’t lost your spark.” 

“Aw, thanks Jay,” Your cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, “Someone had to lighten up that dark place besides Alfred.”

“What other stories you got?” Jason asked.

“Well, let me see… oh, well there was this one time Damian jumped out the third story window…”

Jason zoned out, his thoughts consuming him in the moment. His eyes took in every little detail that you shown as you were telling your story. The bright, goofy smile on your face, the way your hands illustrated the whole scene, how expressive your eyes got, and that little laugh you made before your initial one filled the room. Seeing you like this made him think on his next actions.

“That does sound like a funny story…” Jason blandly added. Setting his beer on the table, he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at you on the floor, sipping your beer. “Hey, I had something to tell you that I’ve had on my mind for quite some time actually…”

“Lay it on me.” You sent your smile his way.

“Uh, well, the night before I—”

He was interrupted by the muffled buzzing of your phone inside your purse. You sprang up from your spot on the floor and grabbed your purse from the couch and brought it to the coffee table. Your hands rummaged through your cluttered purse, looking for your phone but you couldn’t even see a single part of it.

“Goddamnit, I have to clean this thing out.” You groaned, turning your purse upside down and shaking all of its contents out until your buzzing phone bounced off the table and onto the floor. Dropping your purse and snatching up your phone, you answered it and walked into the kitchen, leaving a confused Jason sitting on the couch picking up all your belongings and setting them beside your purse.

He came across a folded paper and curiosity came over him. Looking over his shoulder to see if you were still in the kitchen he proceeded to open the paper to reveal a decent drawing of your face. The illustration was slightly cartoonish, but it still captured your beauty nonetheless; Jason could’ve sworn he seen this type of style somewhere before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Looking at the corner of the paper, the initials K.R. was scribbled along with an illegible note.

“What are you doing?” Jason jumped in his seat, but didn’t hide the picture, “Are snooping?”

Looking at the drawing in his hands and then at you, he sheepishly smiled, “Yeah…Who drew this for you? It’s pretty neat.”

“My friend, he’s pretty good alright. I believe he’s got a gig for doing illustrations or something like that.” You informed Jason, snatching the photo from his hands and tossing back into your purse with the rest of your belongings. “Why were you so curious?”

“I’ve seen that style before, but I don’t remember where…”

“I hate thoughts like that…anyways, sorry for the phone call, I’m always being pulled in some direction, aren’t I?” You chuckled, taking a seat beside him on the couch, “You were saying something before the phone call?”

Jason opened his mouth, but no words came out. All his mind could do was bring up that picture and fill his thoughts with negative ones. Looking at you, he smiled softly, “You know what? Don’t even worry about it. It wasn’t that important.”

You double checked with him, but he reassured you it could wait. After sitting in silence for a few moments, you changed the subject, “I was looking at my phone and I didn’t realize how late it was getting; you know, we’ve been talking here for the past six hours? That’s crazy.”

“That is.” Jason nodded his head in agreement, “If it’s getting late, I can drive you home? I got no problem doing it; I would like to know that you’re not out there with those criminals.” 

A cheap laugh fell from your lips, “Oh, what is it with people forgetting who I was?” You turned to Jason as you stood up from the couch, “I’ll be fine. Actually, I—”

As if on cue, the muffled sound of a car horn interrupted your sentence. A goofy smile broke out on your lips as your head dropped before lifting up to look at Jason’s confusion expression. 

“…have a ride,” You soft giggles turned into a deep sigh as you picked up your purse, “Sorry.”

Jason’s smile faltered, but he played it off as if he was going to drink his beer. Standing up beside you, he looked down at you, taking in how your smile continued to stay on your relaxed face while you looked up at him.

“Well, I had lots of fun with you tonight, really,” Jason confessed, “It was nice to catch up on so many things, hopefully, we can do it again sometime soon?”

“Definitely!” You nearly shouted, “Next time, maybe we could do my place? I can cook us up something?” You suggested, looking deep into his eyes for his approval.

“I’d like that,” The horn sounded again, making him turn his attention to the window before your hand on his arm pulled his attention back towards you, “Don’t keep your ride waiting. Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Jason.” You spoke softly. Moving in closer, you stood on your toes and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, patted his chest a few times before dashing out his apartment and down to your ride. 

Jason’s smile grew from the sudden affection you gave him. It gave him hope that maybe you didn’t feel the same way about him as he did for you. After seeing that picture and knowing of your friend, he knew that things were heating up between you two and he wanted to beat the other to the punch.

Don’t beat around the bush. Tell her who you feel.

Standing stock-still in the elevator, Jason’s nervous blue eyes stared at the bouquet of flowers in his hand, making sure that each delicate flower looked presentable. The sweet smell the flowers gave off relaxed him; the loud thoughts in his mind were feeding his anxiety and making his heartbeat so fast that he was sure he felt it hit his ribcage a couple of times. 

The elevator beeped and the large, metal doors slowly opened to the floor your apartment was on. With a heavy sigh escaping from between his lips, he began to walk down the corridor, looking at the numbers on the door, trying to match it with the one that was scribbled on the sticky note in his hand.

When he finally came face to face with your door, he froze. He stood there for a few moments, wondering if he should just turn around and leave or stay and see if his dreams come true. Adjusting his leather jacket and rotating the flowers to their best side, he knocked on the door lightly, waiting for you to come to the door.

He heard shuffling and the sound of your voice on the other side of the door. The muffled music was turned down and the sound of footsteps coming close to the door made him nervous. Quickly shaking his whole body to get rid of the nerves, he put on his best smile, but when the door opened, his grin fell from his lips and was replaced by a look of pure confusion.

“Kyle?”

“Jason?” Kyle greeted him with a similar look of confusion.

The two stared at each other for a few moments, trying to figure out why the other was standing before them. Silence would’ve consumed the both of them had you not called out to Kyle from behind the cracked door.

“Who is it?” 

“It’s Jason…” Kyle answered, turning his head to look at you with a kind, yet confused smile.

“What are you doing?” You questioned him, walking towards the door to pull it all the way open; looking at Jason with a delighted smile, you said, “Come on in, Jason.”

Jason’s mouth was slightly agape. He stared at the both of you, trying to figure out what the hell Kyle Raynor, a member of the Green Lanterns, was doing with you, but then it finally clicked in his head: The name in your phone, the drawing in your purse, your partnership with someone in the Justice League…Kyle was your…no… Jason didn’t even want to think of the word to describe your relationship with Kyle. Hesitantly stepping into your apartment, Jason just stood there, not knowing what else to do. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to come over tonight,” You stated, looking at his shy state, “I was just finishing up dinner; there should be enough to go around, I’m sure.”

Jason slowly nodded, his gaze drifting from you to Kyle who sat at a desk in the corner of the room, undoubtedly drawing something. “I’m sorry, I just thought to stop by to see how you were doing since we didn’t talk for a couple of days…”

“I see you brought me flowers?” You inquired, looking at the vibrant bouquet in his slightly clenched hands. You took them from him and set them in the sink to properly take care of them. “Oh where are my manners? I didn’t introduce you to Kyle.”

“You don’t need to,” Jason mumbled, looking at you with a soft smile, “We know each other.”

“You do?” 

“Yeah, we were involved with some heavy business a couple months back,” Jason informed you, his gaze becoming sharper the longer he stared at the man doodling in the corner. “What’s he doing here? Is he your partner in the League?”

A sheepish laugh came from your throat, “Uh, yeah. Kyle and I are partners…he’s actually my boyfriend…”

Jason died on the inside.

“We’ve been keeping a low profile about it, that’s why I didn’t say anything about it to you…” You told him, “You can’t tell anyone though, especially not Bruce; you know how he is with snooping in other people’s business…”

Jason stood there, his nerves taking control, “Uh, yeah, your secret is safe with me…and speaking of Bruce, he wanted to talk to me, it was something urgent. He’s probably gonna rip into me about being late like old times, but I can take it.” 

Your smile slightly fell, “Are you sure you can’t stay? Bruce has three other people to go to.” You stood in front of him, your hand resting on your hip. You knew he wasn’t going to budge, but you wanted to at least try, “I promise not to keep you long.”

“It’s a personal matter, don’t worry, we’ll hang out again.” Jason’s lips formed a tight line as he looked over at Kyle once more before finally letting himself accept his defeat. “At least I know you’re okay…”

“It was good to see you, Jason,” You told him, stepping closer. You placed your hand on his arm and felt him tense up at your touch. Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a firm squeeze and leaned up to give him a light kiss on his cheek, “You be good, or at least try to be. Tell Bruce I said hi.”

Jason smiled, nodding at your words, but paying them no mind. Your hug felt different to him; it felt colder than before, it didn’t bring him as much happiness as it used to and the kiss on the cheek didn’t show a sign of hope but a sign of friendly boundaries that he believed he could never cross. 

Mumbling a half-hearted goodbye to Kyle, Jason left with his heart and dreams shattered. He did everything in his power to not turn around and storm back up those steps and still tell you how he felt, but he realized that it would’ve been childish of him to do so; it would be something his past self would do. So he carried on, jumping into his car and driving far from your place, trying to put distance between himself and his tainted dream.

It took a few days and nights for Jason to fully process what his relationship between you and him would become. He was thankful that you were at least happy in your life; he was heartbroken that he couldn’t be the source of your happiness though. He was almost wishing that he was selfish enough to rob you of your happiness in favor of his, but his love for you was stronger than his desire to be happy.

Sitting on the rooftop across from your apartment complex with a clear view into your apartment, he sat on the edge, fumbling with his gloved fingers as he watched you and Kyle move about inside. His gaze saw you dancing around the kitchen, flour covering your clothing and skin in various patches while Kyle sat on top of the table, eating what you were baking. Music was blaring inside the place, but it was muffled to Jason on the outside.

Jason’s fists gripped the edge of the room in slight anger and pain. He watched Kyle hop off the table and slowly make his way to stand behind you, placing his hands on your hips while you continued on with baking. That smile on your face killed Jason. Kyle craned his head around your shoulder to take in your messy look before giving you a peck on your lips. Jason could hear your little laugh all the way by him, just ringing in his ears. He saw you spin around and begin to pull Kyle’s lips towards your own and the minute your lips connected, Jason turned away, his heart aching.

With a heavy sigh, Jason stood up and dusted his pants off, turned away from your apartment. He began to walk away, telling himself that he knew he never should’ve come back to Gotham. There was nothing left for him except for a painful past. Seeing you kiss Kyle…he felt like he just died for a second time. He regretted ever coming back for you.

[mst3kproject]

511: Gunslinger

I’ve probably given the impression that I hate Westerns, which is not quite true – I’m mostly just bored with the entire concept after having been force-fed it since childhood.  If a Western wants me, it’s gonna have to give me aliens or dinosaurs or vampires or something as a ‘hook’.  Gunslinger is just a straight-up tale of law and order in the old west, and as such it doesn’t interest me much at all.  Yet when I watch it, I have to give it a surprising number of props, especially for being something that wound up on the Satellite of Love.

Gunslinger does not waste time.  In the opening scene we see the Marshall of Oracle, Texas, gunned down in his own office, and his wife Rose vow to take her revenge on the killers. Until the new guy can arrive from San Antonio, Rose decides she’s going to do the Marshalling herself!  She starts small, trying to make the local Red Dog Saloon comply with the laws about not being open late.  This brings her into conflict with the Saloon’s owner Erica, who decides that Rose has to go.  While Rose makes freely with the police brutality, Erica hires her outlaw ex-boyfriend Caine as an assassin.  This being a movie, Caine and Rose immediately fall in love instead. Her husband’s been dead about a week at this point.

The biggest strength of the movie is that the writing and acting, while not stellar, are certainly good enough.  We know who all these people are, we can tell them apart, and we know what they want and why they’re in conflict with each other. Rose and Erica have never liked one another, and now their jobs have put them in a position to do something about it. Erica uses people’s image of her as a floozy to bilk them out of money.  Jake is in love with Erica and tired of being spurned.  Mayor Polk dwells on his war stories because they’re more exciting than his lackluster present life.  Caine is still shaken by PTSD and doesn’t understand that killing Polk won’t make it better.  The funeral scene introduces us to most of these characters, and their relationships are sketched out in ways that aren’t boring and don’t interfere with the flow of the story.

Gunslinger’s ‘gimmick’ is that it takes a pretty standard Western plot – local Sheriff versus land-grabbing tycoon – and places women in the main roles.  This could have been an absolute disaster depending on what the writers thought of women, but Charles B. Griffith and Mark Hanna handled it very well.  It never treats either Rose or Erica as a joke, or thinks they’re ‘cute’ for being a law enforcer or a businesswoman.  Both of them are portrayed as people, slightly larger-than-life in the way genre characters always are, but written and played with complete sincerity.  The fact that they’re women allows the introduction of the love triangle with Caine, but the only person who lets that get in the way of what anybody’s trying to accomplish is Caine himself!  Even the very minor character of Mayor Polk’s wife Felicity is an active rather than reactive character, who actually protects her husband when she thinks he’s in danger rather than just standing around fretting.  Likewise with the can-can dancers, who take action to try to avoid losing their livelihoods.

Rose in particular could have driven the whole thing into the ground if her heart had overcome her head, but while she does have a weakness for Caine she knows it’s a weakness, and uses it to her advantage when she can. She meets him knowing he plans to try to seduce her, but keeps her head and questions him.  She firmly tells him that she can’t let emotion interfere with the unpleasant job that needs doing, and at the end, even though it visibly upsets her, she does her duty and kills him.  Even the fact that he just shot Erica to protect her doesn’t sway her decision!  The way Erica and Rose keep their heads while Caine loses his heart suggests to me that this inversion of the male and female roles is entirely intentional.  Gunslinger is predicated on the idea that men and women are equally capable of being rational and emotional, giving and greedy, and generally human, and on that basis it seems to be an earnest attempt at a feminist movie.

So as far as that goes, Gunslinger works all right.  The plot is, as Kevin noted in The Amazing Colossal Episode Guide, a series of wild west clichés, with only the gender swap to really give them any flavour.  Details of Erica’s land scheme are pretty muddy and the movie studiously avoids any actual action or suspense, but we’re interested enough to see it through to the end. It’s not really that bad. Unfortunately, it’s not that good, either.

The primary reason why is because the movie is desperately cheap.  The streets of Oracle often look all but abandoned, as they couldn’t afford extras and therefore saved them for the most important scenes.  The buildings appear to be made out of cardboard and the jail cells in the Marshall’s office look like they would have trouble holding a large dog, never mind an armed human being.  Characters ride horses along dirt roads with visible tyre tracks.  Most of the film takes place at night, but you can’t tell because they shot it in the daytime and didn’t even use a very dark filter – witness the hilarious bit where Caine points out the constellation Ursa Major while there is blue sky visible behind him.

Another reason is the direction, which is at best boring.  Far too many wide shots call attention to the empty streets, while all the gunplay takes place at very close quarters to disguise the fact that none of the actors can even pretend to aim.  The fight scene between Caine and the Deputy is downright tragic, with punches that obviously miss by several inches.  The worst moment of this is Caine’s story about why he hates Polk.  I understand and respect that they couldn’t afford an actual flashback, but all we see for this entire narrative is Caine’s talking head in a single, static shot. Surely there was something more interesting they could have done here.  I should not watch this and find myself thinking about how ugly that wallpaper is.

The thing I spent most of Gunslinger thinking about, though, is Rose’s approach to law enforcement, which is inconsistent to say the least.  We have a few quick scenes in which she upholds the law in Oracle by shooting people – what these men did we’re never told.  Later she shoots at Caine, having mistaken him for somebody else. What if she’d hit and killed him? Yet only minutes later, she’s telling Caine she wants this man alive and tells him off for shooting the guy before he could be questioned.  So how exactly was Rose planning on questioning a dead man?  Later, when Erica’s little toady Jake tells Rose that Caine is planning to kill her and Mayor Polk, she says she cannot arrest him for something they have no evidence of.  Really?  She seemed perfectly happy to shoot a guy whose face she couldn’t see earlier in the film.

Maybe this is supposed to be Rose’s character arc.  She goes from cold-bloodedly shooting one of her husband’s assassins at the funeral to realizing that the law is more complex and due process is necessary.  Maybe realizing she’d almost killed the wrong man was her turning point.  The script actually does kind of hint at this.  At the end Rose leaves Oracle and all its bad memories behind when her official replacement arrives, wanting nothing more to do with this town or with law enforcement, and she and Caine do discuss the violence associated with the job.  Men who are outlaws in one state become lawmen in another, and then go back to a life of crime – either way you get the rush of killing (and a lawman can do so legally!), but crime pays better.  Caine thinks of himself as better than other professional murderers, because he’s in it for the money rather than the blood.

That’s not how the movie uses these moments, though.  Rose’s killing spree is apparently supposed to convince us she’s the most effective law enforcement this town has had in a long time, and her almost shooting Caine merely provides a ‘meet cute’ scene of sorts.  Their conversation about killing and police work just gives them something in common to bond over, and her leaving at the end has to do with being forced to kill the man she’s fallen in love with (just days after her husband died!  Couldn’t they have made her the first Marshall’s sister or something?).

Gunslinger is one of those movies where just a little extra effort would have made the whole thing a lot better.  A few more extras would have made all the difference to a lot of shots.  Better lighting would have improved the night scenes immeasurably.  Anything would have been better than a talking head and bad wallpaper for Caine’s war story.  These are such tiny details, and yet just a little more money in the right places could have done so much to help the audience focus on what’s there instead of what’s missing.

Sadly, this is a Roger Corman production, so making a good movie was never really the goal.  Rather, the union rules were about to change so that actors could only work five days a week, so Corman shit out Gunslinger as fast as he could to get it done before he would have to let anyone have a weekend.  Explains a lot, doesn’t it?

[wherethewindtakesher]

weeeeee

the biggest thank you to @caws5749 for sending me all 134 questions 🥰

1: Name Lorena

2: Age 20

3: 3 Fears drowning, the ocean, and fishes.

4: 3 things I love my dog, my friends, and mangoes.

5: 4 turns on humor, charisma, telling me how much you want m-, and moaning.

6: 4 turns off being full of themselves, disrespectfulness, afraid to be themselves, and not showing a care about the well being of others.

7: My best friend k, f, and @brownmantwo.

8: Sexual orientation bisexual.

9: My best first date i’ve never been on a date!

10: How tall am I 5′2

11: What do I miss being fucking skinny-

12: What time were I born 10:45 pm!

13: Favorite color red.

14: Do I have a crush uh...

15: Favorite quote “I got STDS they make my coochie itch” SKSKSKDKSDKAD.

16: Favorite place my house.

17: Favorite food rice.

18: Do I use sarcasm 99.9% of my vocabulary is sarcasm.

19: What am I listening to right now “everything I wanted” by billie eilish because ya girl is depressed.

20: First thing I notice in new person how they hold themselves.

21: Shoe size 8 or 8.5 sometimes a 9.

22: Eye color dark brown.

23: Hair color black.

24: Favorite style of clothing baggy clothes or dark bold colors.

25: Ever done a prank call? yea. I use to call those numbers where it takes you to a different number to prank.

27: Meaning behind my URL its not necessarily an interesting story I just came up with it in my head one day.

28: Favorite movie too many to count.

29: Favorite song literally too many.

30: Favorite band three days grace.

31: How I feel right now fucking sad.

32: Someone I love my friends.

33: My current relationship status single.

34: My relationship with my parents its good! but there is a lot I tend to not discuss with them.

35: Favorite holiday halloween!

36: Tattoos and piercing I have I have two tattoos, both on my left arm. my finger tattoo is of a rose and my bicep is a ghost wearing a witch hat! piercing: septum, conch (but it closed) and my two lobes.

37: Tattoos and piercing I want a bunch more of tattoos and I want to get a few more ear piercings.

38: The reason I joined Tumblr to be cool like my older niece.

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? no we do not. lots of love and respect left in between us.

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? not really.

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? NO BECAUSE @domromanoff and I ARE BASICALLY SISTERS AND THATS INCEST.

42: When did I last hold hands? years ago.

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? 10 minutes to get up from bed and 5 to actually get ready.

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? yes I have because I like smooth legs.

45: Where am I right now? my kitchen.

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? no ones because they'll just leave me behind and laugh at my misery. jkjk but my dear friends.

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? L O U D.

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? I do because rent in LA is fucking e x p e n s I v e.

49: Am I excited for anything? to go to bed.

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? I have 2 of them.

51: How often do I wear a fake smile? too often tbh.

52: When was the last time I hugged someone? a few weeks ago I believe?

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? they should because thats their baby momma.

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? yup.

55: What is something I disliked about today? waking up.

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? lady gaga and scarlett johansson.

57: What do I think about most? what tattoo to get, if I should get another dog, how to annoy @caws5749 that day, etc etc.

58: What’s my strangest talent? I can move the bones in my wrist.

59: Do I have any strange phobias? im scared of fish!

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? behind because I am a nervous mess and I like taking control of such.

61: What was the last lie I told? “im okay”

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? both honestly! I love video chatting with @domromanoff and my friends!

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? yes and yes.

64: Do I believe in magic? hell yea I grew up around all that shit.

65: Do I believe in luck? not really.

66: What’s the weather like right now? its chilly.

67: What was the last book I’ve read? jesus christ I forgot the name but its currently under my bed rn.

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? YES.

69: Do I have any nicknames? clown, wueej by @caws5749, pi- prin-, bottom by @domromanoff, lore, lorecha, whore, hoe.

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? I pulled my thigh muscle recently and OMG I WAS IN SO MUCH PAIN.

71: Do I spend money or save it? I SPEND IT HONEY YASSSS.

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue? sadly no.

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? my water bottle c:

74: Favorite animal? I fucking love cows.

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? crying lmao.

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? nikolas is it not??

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? “Judas” by lady gaga.

78: How can you win my heart? just be yourself and believe wholeheartedly of what you want and desire.

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? “madi did it”

80: What is my favorite word? fuck.

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr @caws5749 @domromanoff @dailyavengers @ravenforce andddddd @supercorpbechloe there’s so many more I’m editing this rn AKSJSHSHSHS I love each and everyone’s accounts here!

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? GLOBAL WARMING IS A REAL THING YALL.

83: Do I have any relatives in jail? i think so 👀 but im not close to them.

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? maybe like telekinesis or some mind power.

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? what goes on in your mind?

86: What is my current desktop picture? a winter forest.

87: Had sex? if oral sex counts then sure.

88: Bought condoms? I haven't bought them I just magically obtained them.

89: Gotten pregnant? oh god no.

90: Failed a class? yUUUUP.

91: Kissed a boy? yes.

92: Kissed a girl? yes.

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? back in middle school lmaoooo.

94: Had job? yes im on my second one rn.

95: Left the house without my wallet? all the damn time.

96: Bullied someone on the internet? no because im not a fucking asshole.

97: Had sex in public? not yet.

98: Played on a sports team? yea I was in track n field and cross country!

99: Smoked weed? I haven't but I once wanted to try it but I was to much of a pussy to skip class.

100: Did drugs? nope.

101: Smoked cigarettes? ew no.

102: Drank alcohol? y’all Ive gotten so fucked up on here so of cOURSE. my friends think I have a drinking problem ksjlksdjlkjds.

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? I am not.

104: Been overweight? yea.

105: Been underweight? No.

106: Been to a wedding? I have when I was younger.

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? sadly yes because of video games.

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? yea when I binge watched the walking dead.

109: Been outside my home country? yes!

110: Gotten my heart broken? yeah.

111: Been to a professional sports game? Yes because everyone in LA has possibly been to a dodgers game.

112: Broken a bone? nope!

113: Cut myself? oh man..I have and I deeply regret doing so but its a part of me now and i’ve accepted it.

114: Been to prom? YES! best night of my life.

115: Been in airplane? once and that was it because fuck planes lsjdkjlksdjs.

116: Fly by helicopter? nope!

117: What concerts have I been to? daddy yankee and some other guy I don't remember heheheh.

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? duh im gay.

119: Learned another language? I tried (and failed) to learn japanese.

120: Wore make up? a couple of times. i’m not the hugest fan of makeup.

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18? nope!

122: Had oral sex? once.

123: Dyed my hair? too many times.

124: Voted in a presidential election? no but I will this upcoming one for sure.

125: Rode in an ambulance? no but I want to!

126: Had a surgery? no but I did have to get stitches on my lower lip.

127: Met someone famous? I meant jenni rivera’s brother at a movie theater once!

128: Stalked someone on a social network? yes? but not to a weird extent.

129: Peed outside? only because no one was around to open the door to my apartment complex and I couldn't hold it in-

130: Been fishing? I am T E R R I F I E D of fish so no.

131: Helped with charity? yup! I bought a shirt from one of @markiplier‘s livestreams that donated all the money to a charity.

132: Been rejected by a crush? yea.

133: Broken a mirror? I think maybe once??

134: What do I want for birthday? I want a tattoo.

[nadziejastar]

Terra: Oy, sometimes you are such a girl.

Aqua: Hey, what do you mean, “sometimes”?

Hmm, interesting question. Unfortunately Isa didn’t get a whole lot of screen time. The only thing I can point to is that he probably wouldn’t have been written as such a sarcastic character. Female characters tend to be written as demure and polite, with few exceptions (like Larxene). It wouldn’t have been necessary to write Isa any differently if he were female. But it seems like many creators have narrow views of women and what kinds of personalities they can have. It’s not just KH, though. 

Xigbar: Heh heh. Girls, am I right? Life's biggest mystery. One thing that IS clear, though, is that no girl wants to be with a guy weaker than she is.

I think if Isa had been a female character, the biggest difference would likely have been his relationship with Lea. It would have felt more shallow and underdeveloped without their banter. On the other hand, the intimacy of their relationship would be seen as more socially acceptable. Personality-wise, he’d probably be similar to Aqua. On the quiet side, but empathetic and mature beyond his years. Of course, Aqua seemed sad that she couldn’t have the same type of closeness with her male companions that they had among themselves. And this is exactly what I mean.

Roxas: You mean...real people are more complex than us?

Axel: Well, sure! Especially if they're real and female. That's like a double dose of complicated.

If writing intimate male relationships feels more natural to some creators, I’d prefer if they just wrote that instead of male/female relationships that feel forced. I think Axel is probably a mouthpiece for how Nomura himself feels about women. They’re just hard to relate to. I mean, I understand how people come to think like that. It’s something I’ve personally heard before in real life. And Japan is just a whole different ballpark when it comes to social roles for girls and boys. It’s kinda sad, though. Still, I don’t mind if fictional characters like Axel think this way, as long as the author is mindful about it. It made Axel seem more flawed and human. And at least he was honest. 

The room was completely wrecked—draperies shredded and walls deeply scored—but he saw no Beast inside. And all the way in the back, on a small table gleaming in the moonlight from the window, a glass vessel covered a single red flower—a rose?

But yes, the original idea was that Isa was a rather feminine boy. I liked this. It gave him a unique sense of identity, and it made Axel a lot more interesting. One of Saïx’s weapons is named after a flower that has a rich history in Japan. I really liked the parallel between this particular flower and the Beast’s rose. It’s actually sad how much more heartfelt and sincere the subtle relationship Isa and Lea had, compared to the ones between the male and female characters. 

Roxas looked again at the rose beneath the glass, safe in the back of the chambers. It was somehow sparkling, unlike anything else here.

“Precisely. That is no ordinary rose. The room is in tatters save for one corner—because to him, at least, it is more precious than all the castle’s riches.”

A Queen of the Night flower can take a year to bloom and only blooms over a single night, usually under a full moon. Because of this, it is used to describe someone who has an impressive but very brief moment of glory, like a “flash in the pan”. It’s just as delicate as the Beast’s rose, which sits in the moonlight of the Beast’s room. It also dies as soon as it is picked, making it very rare and very expensive.

Cogsworth: Ah, but that is not all… Over time, caring for that rose has become a cherished part of the master’s daily life.

Mrs. Potts: It’s as though all his hopes and dreams are tied to that single bloom...

The Japanese people have great empathy for this type of fragile beauty, as they have given this plant the name Gekka-Bijin, which evokes the image of a beautiful woman seen by moonlight, or gazing at the moon. Axel’s memories of the past were what he couldn’t bear to lose. His whole relationship with Isa was a flash in the pan. It was actually rather poetic how Isa was made out to be this ephemeral beauty who was only able to shine for such a brief time, then completely vanished out of Axel’s life, leaving only the memories behind. 

Axel: As long as we remember each other, we’ll never be apart. Got it memorized?

Roxas: Ha ha, wow, Axel. That sounded ridiculous.

Axel: What? I thought it was pretty deep.

IMO, this single scene was a lot more romantic than anything between Sora and Kairi. I’m pretty indifferent to Sora/Kairi. It’s not like I hate it or anything. It’s just that we’re always TOLD that Sora has these deep feelings for Kairi. But we rarely ever see it through their interactions. They don’t have a lot of chemistry, in other words. In this scene, the audience isn’t TOLD that Axel has deep feelings for Isa. In fact, we are NEVER explicitly told this. It wasn’t necessary. I could tell, based on the way he spoke, that Axel had profound feelings for Isa.

Roxas: That still doesn't explain what love is... Is love fighting to protect what's most important to you? Where does its power come from?

Queen of the Night is part of Prestige Gear. This is Strength in Luxord’s card. The Strength card speaks to the human spirit’s ability to overcome any obstacle. It represents inner strength, personal power, strong will and determination. The Two of Cups represents deep connections and partnerships, based on shared values, compassion, and unconditional love. Axel was always fighting so hard to protect those memories, keeping them behind glass, so to speak. But he never, ever talked about them to anyone. If Isa had been female, I highly doubt Axel’s nostalgia would have been written with such sincerity. 

[godyoutalkpretty]

Oh God There Was Only One Bed

**A/N: - This is set sometime towards the end of season 3/start of season 4. It is, of course, very much M rated**

Shit had gone south in a big way. And shit had gone south in a big way, fast.

Kensi glanced quickly over her shoulder, eyes scanning the post midnight street behind them. A couple of cars, the odd taxi, a few tourists, and some drunks. No sign of the Russians, with their Hummers and their assault rifles.

“Anything?” said Deeks, from by her side. She looked back at where he was keeping pace with her, his own blue eyes roaming the road before them, missing as little as she did. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she replied. “But then, it’s not exactly an ordinary kind of night.”

“You’re telling me,” Deeks said. “But like my momma said, better to be, uh, better to be safe than sorry.” 

She felt his hand on the small of her back, oddly comforting and reassuring, felt the pressure increase and move her towards the doorway of an apartment complex. She pressed her back against it, and he positioned himself against her. His weight was solid against her, sturdy, unmoving. She trembled slightly, and tried to tell herself it was the adrenaline still flooding out of her veins after the ambush. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, looking over them. The drunks shambled by, arms over each others shoulders, using the other for support, garbling incomprehensibly. 

“We’re clear,” she said softly, her lips only inches from the shell of his ear. The smell of him filled her nostrils; the salty tang of the ocean, mixed with the slight trace of his board’s wax. “Did you hear me, Deeks?” she said, when he didn’t move. 

He coughed, somewhat self-consciously, and stepped back onto the sidewalk, scratching at the blond messy locks at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Yeah. So what’s the plan?”

“Phone’s are no good,” she replied. “I don’t know how they managed it, but they got into our system.” 

He nodded, pulling his phone from his back pocket, looked at it pained. “I’ve got all my photos on this.” 

“Oh, suck it up, Deeks,” Kensi said, already smashing her own phone under her heel. It crunched under the force. “I’ve seen your Instagram. There was nothing but pictures of Monty on that phone, and you posted them all on there anyway.” 

“You follow me on Instagram?” he asked.

Uh oh. “What? No… no… uh, Eric showed it to me once. Me, Sam and Callen. Oh, how we laughed until our sides ached.”

“Are you GunGirl57?” 

She barked a laugh. Even to her ear, it sounded fake. “No, I am not.”

“Yeah, cause I found that account and followed it on my third day at the OSP. You look fantastic in a bikini, by the way. I’m just saying, as a fellow professional.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, but couldn’t keep the grin off her lips. “Shut up, Deeks.”

He grinned back at her. Then he sighed, and dropped his phone onto the sidewalk. He gave a little hop up, bringing as much weight onto the device as he could and cracking it into pieces.

Kensi patted his cheek. “Good boy.” He snorted a laugh.

“So what’s the plan now?” he said, the seriousness of the situation returning in a heartbeat.

She gave a little shrug. “We need to get off the street. Who knows how long it’ll take before they - whoever they are - catch up with us.”

“Boatshed?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It could be compromised.”

“I hate to say it, but I think you’re right. Those Russians, they just came out of nowhere. There was no way they should have known where we were unless NCIS has been compromised.”

“I hope Sam and Callen are alright.”

“Those guys?” Deeks arched an eyebrow at her. “Knowing them, they’ve probably already, you know, gone rogue and sorted this whole mess.”

She smirked. “Yeah, that sounds like the sort of thing they’d do.”

“But you don’t want to risk it?”

“But I don’t want to risk it,” she agreed. “So I think what we need to do is get off the streets, and try and regroup with everyone in the morning. It’s been a long day.”

Even as she said it, she felt the weight of tiredness fully roll over her. It had been such a long day. A murdered marine, a gun fight through the sewers of Los Angeles, and then, just as they were packing up to head back to Ops, the four black Hummers had appeared as if from nowhere, spewing bullets like red hot lances. A long day indeed.

“There’s a motel just round the corner,” he said.

“And you know this how?” She couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.

“I’ll have you know that I was a beat cop at one time,” he replied.

“And the truth?”

He chuckled. “One of my clients worked there when I was a lawyer.”

“Alright, I’ll believe that.”

“Good. Cause it’s, uh, it’s better than me saying that’s where my momma used to stay when she visited me, which was going to be my next excuse.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Well then, on that glistening recommendation, why don’t you lead the way?”

They followed the street down another block, then took a right. There were a couple of cars parked up against the kerb, the insides dark, and the partners slowed down as they cautiously passed, eyes peering into the gloom, making sure no one lay in anticipation inside. Then, up ahead, she could make out the lights of the motel. The place looked exactly like a hundred other motels spread across the length and breadth of LA; wide, open car park, two stories tell, with metal stairs on either side and a long walkway on the top floor.

“Wait here,” Deeks said, “and keep an eye. I need to speak to my guy, and he gets easily distracted by hotties.”

She glared at his words, a retort rising to her tongue, but in the end she complied, turning back to keep an eye on either side of the street. A police cruiser crept along the concrete, and for a moment, she considered flagging it down, but then decided against it. There was only one person she knew she could trust right now, and it was the one person she knew she could always trust. The cruiser vanished around a corner.

Deeks returned a moment later, the chunky fob of the key in his hand. “We’re in luck. There’s only one room with two beds left, and my guy wasn’t going to let it go for free, but then I reminded him that I basically, you know, basically got him custody of his kids over his psycho of ex.”

“You still had to pay for it, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but I got us a discount.”

She shook her head. “Did you at least get a receipt for Hetty?” 

“Sure did,” he said. “I, uh, I learned my lesson on that one with the pogo stick and the inflatable pool.” 

“So where are we?” 

He gestured to the stairs with his chin. “Top floor, at the far end.” 

They made their way up, following the walkway to the end, and Deeks slipped the key into the lock. He jangled it a moment. 

“Problem, Deeks?” Kensi asked, looking over her shoulder at him from where she had been watching the car park below.

“Hang on,” he muttered. “It’s stuck. I’ll have us in in a moment.” He pulled the key out of the lock, looked at the number on the fob, then at the number on the door. “Well, it’s the right key,” he said.

“God, get out of the way,” she said, bumping him aside with her hip against his. “I got this.” She knelt down, pulling her lockpicks from her pocket. In seconds, she had the door unlocked. She rose, pushing it open, and stepped inside.

“Uh, Deeks,” she said, as she surveyed the room. “There’s only one bed.”

“What are you talking about?” he said as he bustled in behind her.

“The number of beds. It’s only one.”

He looked around the room, taking in the desk, the small wardrobe, the door that lead to the bathroom, and the very single solitary queen sized bed.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he said. “I asked for a double room, and that’s what Mohamed said it was. A double room.”

Kensi let out a sigh of exasperation. “Deeks, this is a double room!”

“But there’s only one bed,” he protested.

She gaped a him. “That’s what a double room means. One bed. For a couple.”

“No, a double means there’s two bed. A double room. It’s right there in the name.”

“A twin room, Deeks. A twin room has two beds.”

He scrunched his face up in confusion. “Really?”

By way of answer, she gestured at the single bed in the middle of the room. “Really!” She ran her hands through her hair. “It’s fine, just go ask your friend for a different room.”

“I can’t,” he said.

She raised her eyes to his. “Why not?”

“I already told you; it’s the last one.”

She let out a long sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly, cutting off whatever she had been about to say. “I can sleep on the sofa. Which looks…” He paused, finally looking at the beat up and tattered sofa that was pushed under the window. “… like it’ll be great for my back. I’m due at the Chiropractor soon anyway. You want something to eat? I saw a vending machine downstairs, and there’s a store across the street.”

“Sure,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Despite how tatty the sofa looked, the bed felt comfortable under her. “I’m gonna take a shower. Make sure you knock before you come in, cause I will have my gun with me.”

He grinned. “You’ve always got your gun with you Fern. You want anything special?”

“You know what I like,” she replied.

“Lots of sugar and calories it is,” he grinned, closing the door behind him as he left.

The strength flooded out of Kensi as soon as he was gone, and she felt every ache and bruise on her body. With some effort, she pushed herself to her feet, and kicked off her boots. They landed haphazardly in the corner, where they were swiftly joined by her socks. Then she unbuckled her belt, popped the buttons of her jeans and slowly slid them down her long legs. A second later, they too dropped to the floor by the foot of the bed. After placing her SIG on the bedside table, she shuffled barefoot into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and flicking on the light. She glanced at herself in the large mirror before her, and lightly pressed the tips of her fingers against the reflection of the small scratch under her eye that she’d received earlier in the day. She shook her head, before stripping off her t-shirt, bra, and boyshorts, then climbed into the tub, turning on the shower and letting the hot water wash away the kinks and aches.

Five minutes later, she shut of the water, stepping out into the steam filled room. She grabbed one of the thick white towels - despite the raggedy sofa here, the rest of the motel seemed like it was fairly decent for what it was - and wrapped it around her frame. Then she scooped up her clothes, and headed back into the main room. She had just settled herself when there was a knock on the door. She reached over, and her SIG was in her hands in a heartbeat. The door opened, and she lowered it slowly as Deeks pushed himself in awkwardly, a couple of shopping bags in his hands, and the door keys between his teeth.

“Oo ‘un?” he said, around them.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Ood, nee’ sh’er ‘oo.” 

“It’s all yours,” she said. “Leave the food on the side.”

He spit out the keys, letting them land on the side of the bed, then placed the shopping bags on the desk. He paused a moment, looking her up and down as she sat on the bed clad in only a towel, an appreciative grin on his handsome face. 

“Deeks,” she said, warningly. 

“Maybe we should find some way to conserve water,” he said. “There’s a drought on, after all.”

“I’ve already taken a shower,” she countered.

“That wasn’t a no,” he said, with a grin, then vanished into the bathroom before she could say anything.” She sucked on her lips, trying to keep the answering grin off them.

By the time he was finished, she’d dried off and pulled back on her black t-shirt and boyshorts, slipping herself under the covers and opened the box of donuts - he’d bought donuts, damn him - and devoured two of them already. He stepped out of the bathroom with the other white towel wrapped around his waist. And nothing else. 

Kensi couldn’t help herself. Her lips went dry, and she had to dart a tongue out swiftly to wet them again. His body was tight, toned, muscled in all the right places. His skin glowed softly with the warmth of the shower he’d just taken, and was still ever so slightly damp.

“I think you dropped your eyes on the floor there, with all your clothes,” he said.

She slapped her hand over her eyes quickly, but it was too late. He chuckled as he padded across the room towards the battered old sofa. “You know you liked what you saw,” he said.

She didn’t trust herself to even try and lie, so she changed the subject. “I think we should stay here the night, and then try and head to Ops in the morning.” 

“What do you think happened?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I don’t really want to think about it. We can deal with it when we’re back with the others.”

He stretched widely on the sofa, and she heard the click of his back from where she lay in the bed. A large yawn swallowed half his scruffy features. “You don’t have to argue that with me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired in my life.” He looked down, at the sofa. “This thing will really help me with that.”

“Deeks,” she said.

“No, no, I’m sure it’s far more comfortable than it looks. I mean, it can’t be, you know, worse than it looks.”

“Deeks, come sleep on the bed.” She patted the wide space of the mattress next to her.

He looked at her quizzically. “Sure?”

“Deeks, we shared a bed for weeks while we were undercover. One night isn’t going to kill us.” She smirked at him. “Provided you keep your hands to yourself.” 

He beamed at her. “Kensalina, you’re the one who has no concept of personal space when you’re asleep. You spread out like you want every available space, and no matter who is taking up the rest of it.” 

“You want me to change my mind?” 

“No, no,” he said, already rising and moving towards the bed. He paused, standing there, and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Little privacy, though, maybe? Unless you want to watch?” 

She pushed her palm over her eyes again. But there was a little gap, just wide enough, for her to see the blurry half image of her partner. She watched as the pink and blonde shape towelled itself off and pulled back on a pair of pale blue briefs. 

“What’s, uh, what’s that you’re humming?” he asked.

Kensi started. She hadn’t even realised she’d been doing that. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. You done?” 

“Yup,” he replied. 

She removed her hand, and he slipped into the side of the bed next to her. She hated to admit it, even just to herself, but she’d missed the presence of him next to her as she slept. And she certainly wouldn’t admit it out loud, where he might hear it. They flicked the lights off, sinking the room into darkness. Kensi lay back onto the pillow, closed her eyes, and was soon asleep. 

She drew herself slowly from the grogginess of sleep, eyes fluttering ever so slightly open. It was still dark in the room. Her head felt like it was full of cotton wool, and some small part of her knew that it hadn’t been her danger sense that had awoken her. So what could it have been?

It didn’t take her long to realise what it was. She was lying on her left, the duvet pushed down over her hips, and she could feel the heavy weight of Deeks pressed almost flush against her. Big spoon and little spoon. His hand was rested on the bare skin of her belly, under where her t-shirt had scrunched up during the night. His hand was high on her stomach, more over her ribs, dancing lightly up and down the skin. A hair’s breadth from the base of her breasts. 

She moved, ever so slightly, to look over her shoulder, observing him through long lashes. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful. She’d seen people pretending to be asleep before, knew the signs to look for. This wasn’t any of that. Deeks was deep in dreamland, his movements completely natural and without intent. 

Kensi bit her bottom lip. She knew she should move his hand, should pull herself away from him. Create some distance between the two of them. Especially since his hand seemed to be creeping ever so slowly higher. But God, if she hadn’t fantasised about this for years! 

Any reluctance she might have had fled quickly when his hand moved fully up onto her breast. She let out a soft gasp, eyes fluttering shut again. His hands were strong, firm, but also tender. It caressed the swell of her breast, squeezing gently. Already she could feel her heart quickening. What are you doing, Kensi? some small part of her asked, but it was drowned out by the white noise her brain was swiftly turning into.

She moaned as his fingers brushed over her hardening nipple, the sensation of his touch sending tiny waves pulsing through her body. His grip tightened, squeezing, then relaxing, but as far as she could tell, he was still fast asleep. Should she do something? Say something? If he was asleep, then he was unaware of what he was doing. Or who he was doing it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but it came from her lips as a soft shiver that sounded too much like “Deeks” for he own liking instead. Her breath caught in her lungs, stuttering to come, shuddering to leave. His firm hand cupped her breast, squeezing it again. Fuck, she thought. What are you doing? 

Cautiously, she snaked a hand backwards, sliding it carefully, slowly, down her hip, and across the duvet until she found his crotch. This was going passed the line, she knew that. Anything else, she could pass off as just one of those things, a sleepy misunderstanding, and she wouldn’t even have to tell him. But if she did this… 

Her hand slipped down the front of his briefs. Inside, he wasn’t hard. But he wasn’t exactly soft, either. Not from the way it responded to her touch. Her slender fingers closed carefully around his cock, and she felt it throb in answer. Her hand moved, up and down, stroking him as she went.

His hand caressed her breast, squeezed again, then the pad of his thumb ran over the very tip of her tender nipple. She moaned softly again. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck now; hot, making the fine hairs there stand on end. His breathing came deeper and deeper as he hardened in her grip, and she knew that at last he was awake. 

Deeks didn’t say anything, but she felt his entire frame tremble against her. He let out a soft sigh that mirrored her own, his cock pulsating under her attentions. His hand squeezed and stroked her breast, his fingers rolling across her nipple. Then suddenly, it was gone. Soft tips of the fingers trailed down, over her ribs, across her dancing stomach muscles, until they reached the waistband of her shorts. Kensi quivered with anticipation, her grip hardening on his cock to let him know he was OK to move on. He understood, somehow, and she felt movement as his hand inched below the fabric. Down they crept, until they brushed the wet spot between her legs, brushing over her sex and making another soft moan slip freely from her open mouth. It was so quiet in the room, the sounds of the street outside gone; all that remained was the gentle moans from their lips and their ragged breathing. 

His finger circled her pussy, slowly following a trail around it. Each time it got closer to her core, she shuddered, her breath catching again. Her eyes fluttered half closed again, and she bit down on her bottom lip. The tip of his finger rested gingerly against the entrance to her pussy, then pushed a millimetre in. She shook, wordless noises bubbling up her. It withdrew, and went back to circling her. 

His cock strained hard against her palm, pulsing like a heartbeat. She kept her pace as slow as his as she stroked him, intentionally slipping all the way to the base, then ascending to the very tip each time. In just a handful of strokes, she felt a bead of pre-cum ease from the tip. Deeks’ breathing was just as broken and stuttering as hers, but his lips were mere inches from her ear now. She could feel the hot and heavy breath there from his open mouth, and fuck if it wasn’t driving her crazy.

His finger delved inside her again and she moaned once more, deeper as the finger went deeper still. Then he withdrew, going back to that tender orbit of her clitoris. She knew she was wet down there now, her juices coating his fingers. She felt something press against the side of her neck, and let out a soft gasp as she realised it was his lips, right against the pulse point. She shuddered when he kissed her again. 

Kensi shifted, moving so she was lying on her back now, her thighs parted. She twisted to face him, resting her forehead against his. She opened her eyes, saw his were closed but flickering, then shut her own. She could feel the movement of his lashes against her own. Both their mouths were open, mere inches apart, their hot breath mingling in the space between. Deeks’ fingers continued their circuit of her trembling sex, and she moved her free hand up to clutch at a breast, squeezing it and adding the sensation to the deliciousness coursing through her body.

She opened her eyes, staring into now open soft blue eyes. She bit her lip again, panting as the intensity rose inside her. Then she inched her face forward, pressing her lips against his. They kissed, and sparks flared all across Kensi, forcing another delicate moan from her throat. She closed her eyes, knowing that he was too. Fuck! She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Any of this. And kissing was… well, there were lines, and then there was that. But she knew that she didn’t want to stop for anything.

He mumbled something appreciatively into her mouth, and she retuned it; a wordless acceptance of what was happening between the two of them. His fingers continued their tender exploration of her wet core, sending rolling flashes of intensity through her body. She shuddered. Her breath caught in her throat, refusing to come. Her hand on his shaft paused, remained resting there against his pulsating member, but he didn’t protest. It seemed all his attentions right now was on the silky touch of his fingertips on her pussy. Her breath finally came free, stuttering out of her in another moan that was swallowed by Deeks’ kiss.

She could feel it building now, slowly, in the pit of her gut. Building in minusculey tiny increments, warmth and bliss spreading throughout her frame, opening like the petals of a flower to the rising sun. She moaned again, and it was almost his name this time, the sound made ragged by the euphoria that rose to drown out any other sensation in the world. The bed had long since faded from her conciousness, the room little more than a fragmented memory. All that remained was Deeks’ fingers, and the gentle orgasm that burnt its way through her body. She came then, shuddering, moaning. White flecks blossomed in her vision.

When she had finally recovered, she found herself looking at that boyish wolfen smile. Deeks’ blue eyes flickered with amusement and pride. And something else remained in them; lust.

She became aware then that her fingers were still curled delicately around his cock, and that it was still hard beneath her. She returned his grin, her own with a impish curl of mischief in it. She used her free hand to press him onto his back on the mattress, then tossed clear the duvet. She leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the lips again, then purposefully lowered herself down his sculpted frame. She opened her mouth, letting the tip of his shaft in passed her lips. He moaned softly, squirming exquisitely under her. Leisurely, she lowered herself deeper down his throbbing manhood, letting it fill her. She slid down as far as she could, then drew herself back up it just as casually.

His fingers curled into her long locks, twining into the strands, but he made no effort to control her. That was something she had always liked about him; despite all of the teasing he got from the rest of the team, and from her as well, he was comfortable enough in his masculinity to let her take the lead. Still, she didn’t mind at all when his hips rose to meet her as she lowered her lips down his length again. She hummed in appreciation, knowing the vibrations of the sound would echo down his cock and into his centre. As she sucked him, she let her fingers trail to between her thighs, dancing across her tender pussy. She was so wet down there now. God, but she’d wanted to do this for so long, somehow always finding the willpower to stop herself. So many times, while they’d been undercover, she’d been inches away from tugging him free of his jeans and letting him into her mouth. The reality of it was so much better than her mindless daydreams, for the simple fact that it was real.

She pulled herself up his cock again, letting the tip rest within her lips, while her tongue lazily swirled against it. Then she drifted down him again, almost to the base, and paused there too. He shuddered, and she could feel the tension in his entire body. A smirk curled itself around his manhood. She knew she could do it this way, and he would have no issue with it - what guy didn’t like getting his dick sucked, after all? - but that wasn’t how she wanted this dream of an event to end. She bobbed her head up and down his length three more times, four, then released him from her mouth with a wet pop. He moaned, this time in disappointed, but that faded instantly when she turned that devilish grin up towards him.

His hands rested on the sides of her jaw, giving a little tug, and she followed the pull up and to his lips again. For a moment, she lay atop his strong frame, their lips melded together in a soft and tender kiss. Then he started to move, to roll over, taking her with him. She found herself on her back, and his weight bore down on her. He seemed so slender most of the time, but now, with him atop her and kissing her, his physical presence was powerful and comforting. She let her fingers trail across his arms, following the contours of his biceps and triceps, up over the curve of his shoulders, then across the broad expanse of his back. His skin was firm, warm, inviting.

Then, carefully, meaningfully, she bent one leg at the knee and raised it against his hip. It brought their crotches together. Deeks got the message pretty quickly. His hand left where it had been softly twirling through her hair and began traversing gently down the length of her body. It followed every line, the tips of his fingers lightly scraping across the skin, leaving a tickling sensation in their wake. Finally, his hand delved between them, fingers closing around his own hard sex. He guided it by touch alone, pressing the tip against her aching, needful, pussy. She muttered at him, trying not to make it sound like an order. Not to make it sound like a demand. Not to make it sound pleading.

He didn’t leave her hanging for long, and some small part of Kensi’s brain realised that he must want this just as desperately as she did. There was only so much flirting that two people could take before something like this must happen or they’d both explode. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and she let out another soft moan as it opened the lips of her pussy and eased in. Still, he took his time about moving deeper; clearly, he wanted to savour this moment just as much as she did. And again, her late night fantasies were as nothing compared to having the real, warm, breathing, Deeks push his hardness into her.

Inch by inch he went, the white hot sensation flaring up in her as he did. She heard her own name tumble from his lips and grinned. His mouth left hers, moving towards her neck, and she felt his hot lips against the skin there. He kissed at the pulse point, sucking on it, letting the softest flash of his teeth worry against the flesh. She moaned, and then again, deeper, when he finally came to rest, the full length of his cock within her. She opened her legs wider, accepting him.

They both stopped then, acclimatising to this new situation of oneness. He moved his head back up, lifting himself up with his arms. Kensi opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. They stared at each other, blue eyes and mismatched brown, neither blinking, neither breaking the contact, as he began to move back and forth, sliding the full length of his shaft inside her. She felt her breath become quickly ragged again, her lips dry as she panted. A long, deep, moan bubbled forth from her throat from somewhere deep within her belly.

As slowly and as gently as everything else that had happened so far this night, Deeks began to fuck her. Finally, she closed her eyes, her head tilting up as she began to lose herself once more to the building fire in her cunt, the fire that was spreading out in inches. He lowered his head again, lips finding that same spot on her neck, just below her jaw.

One of her hands crawled up his back, linking her fingers into his mess of blond hair and playing there, while the other explored the expanse of his back again, then down to caress the firmness of his ass. His hands explored too; one seeking out her breasts, letting the pad of his thumb roam over her erect nipples, while the other went deeper, focusing on her sensitive clit. She undulated in time to his ministrations, all the points of pleasure he was eliciting in her washing over each other and building atop the others.

She felt Deeks begin to shake against her, knew her own mounting paradise was mirrored in him. His breath was just as ragged and broken as her own, and incoherent sounds flowed from where his lips were focussed on her neck. She let his name slip passed her own lips, a long and meaningful sound, and heard her own name echoed from him. Then he began to shudder, his whole body stuttering, and she knew he had climaxed, filling his hot pussy with his seed. That broke the floodgates on her, and she came again. Her very being shook with the bliss that burst across it, ripping apart the last of her coherence, and she lost herself to it completely. She cried out his name louder this time as she did.

When thought and other feelings finally returned to her, she realised that Deeks still lay atop her, his body fully over hers. She smiled warmly, enjoying the closeness of his firm form. She also smiled at the fact that his cock, now slowly softening, was still deeply inside her. He moved then, turning to face him. She met his gaze again, saw the pleasant exhaustion in his expression, saw the softly fading bliss there too. He moved closer, searching for her lips once again, and she eagerly moved to meet them. For long moments they lay together in the soft afterglow of their joint orgasms, soft kisses filling the extent of their movement.

Finally, Deeks pulled back, sliding his soft cock out of her tender core. She let out a moan of disappointment, mingled with a shudder of after-effect at the movement against her still sensitive pussy. Deeks rolled onto his side, and she moved to join him, catching up his lips again. They kissed for a moment more, before Kensi inched back, opening her eyes. Deeks stared at her, those soft blue eyes meeting her own, and a silent understanding passed between them. She kissed him one last time, then rolled over onto her other side. Deeks slid into position behind her, draping and arm over her and spooning her again, just as he had been when she awoke. Gradually, they both drifted off to sleep again.

Neither of them spoke about it the next day, when they awoke, or when they met up with the others. Nothing was mentioned when they took down the criminal organisational who had hacked their systems. In fact, that night was never brought up again, even years later when they were married. Sometimes, Kensi thought she might have dreamt the while thing. But then she would look at her husband, the funny, steady, dependable man who was her entire world, and knew that there was no way she could have ever imagined such a thing. He would see her, see the soft smirk of remembrance on her lips, and she knew he remembered that night too. That night when there had been only one bed.

[lethesomething]

The definitely not definitive otome guide

I sincerely doubt the world needs this, but that sort of thing has never stopped me before. Have an extremely biased guide of several dating sim games, organised by some arbitrary metrics.

Word of warning: this will be long (4k words), because I've played an embarrassingly large amount of otomes.

As a disclaimer: obviously this is a personal opinion. If you (as a lot of people do) enjoy the more forceful bad boy type in your dating sim, I’m not going to judge you. I, however, don’t, so this list is very specifically going to call out games for how they treat the protag.

Featured here: Amnesia: Memories,  Blood in Roses, Cutie Demon Crashers, Destined to Love, Dream Daddy, Hatoful Boyfriend, Hustle Cat,  Ikemen Revolution, Ikemen Sengoku, Lost Alice,  Midnight Cinderella,  Monster Prom, Mystic Messenger

A note on play styles.

These games come in a few flavours, which is important to know if you're gonna try them.

The vast majority of the mobile games here follow a basic visual novel structure. You pick a guy and read through the different chapters, and depending on your answers you'll be leaning toward one of two or three endngs. Since these are free to play mobiles, there's a bunch of challenges you will need to log in daily to pass.  

Mystic Messenger is the main outlier, since it's a chat simulator that plays in real time.

The pc games tend to be more complex, with interlocking routes and more endings, generally. You'll need a number of skill points to meet character A for instance, or you'll need to do a series of actions to reach ending B.

  Great games

Ikemen Sengoku

Hands down one of the best mobile otomes out there right now. I found this when searching for pics of Masamune Date (from a different game) and I've sort of been obsessed with otomes since.

Platform: Android (free to play, pay for premiums) Story: MC gets sucked into a wormhole and finds herself 500 years back in time, in Sengoku era Japan. She drops in on the exact moment where Nobunaga Oda, the Demon King, would be assassinated at Honno-ji. She stops the murder, disrupts the timeline and now there's a bunch of hot warlords vying for her attention. Protagonist’s spine: Reinforced steel. This is one of my favourite protags, because she is Super Sassy and doesn't take shit, unless she's literally being threatened with a sword. The protags where I feel like I understand their actions are few and far between, but this is one of them. Except when she goes far beyond mere bravery to get her man, and decides to forgo tampons and, like, wifi, to live 500 years in the god damn past. Squick factor: Low. This game is made by Cybird, a company that appears very big on consent. The guys generally treat MC with respect, probably more than could be reasonably asked of a Sengoku warlord. The only worrying stuff happens in the Obvious Yandere route, but you kinda know what you're getting yourself into with that one.

The Good: I friggin love the writing for this game. The guys feel like real characters, there's a ton of interaction between them and I need to give this game extra points for the story events, which are almost invariably gold. This is where the makers stop giving a shit about realism and just go for what they want to write. There's ones where all the guys are suddenly idols, there's a Christmas episode, there's one where they battle through cooking and cleaning. It doesn't take itself serious, is what i mean, and it's Hilarious. The Bad: This is one where the in-game art (aside from the CG's) is actually not that great. Hideyoshi's smile is kinda weird looking and the models feel a little outdated at this point. Best Warlord: This is very difficult, because a lot of them are dreamy, but let's just say that I need a Mitsuhide route so very badly.

 Ikemen Revolution

The newest Cybird game and my current fave.

Story: MC falls down the rabbit hole when she tries to give a rushed White Rabbit man something he dropped. She ends up in Cradle/Wonderland, where war is about to break out between the Red and Black army, the Hearts and the Spades. Everyone is hot dudes and MC is considered Alice the Second (after the one from Through the Looking Glass). Squick factor: Low. Again: Cybird game. This means there is steamy situations and sex scenes, but they're blatantly consensual. The routes I've played so far keep well within the bounds of what I would consider romantic. Protagonist’s spine: Varnished wood.  In general MC is self-propelling with occasional bouts of bravery. You can tell why she's doing the things she's doing and how she reacts to situations feels sort of logical. She's hard-working and caring and a little naïve, but the fact that she's canonically a woman from early 19th Century London does put a lot of her actions in perspective (like the amount of bullshit she puts up with).

The Good: The writing is fun. There's a good mix of angst and just… general comedy. The characters interact with each other a lot, and it feels like they're a big loud family, especially in the Black Army, which is more like a frat than anything else. The art is also decent. The backgrounds are utterly gorgeous and most of the guys are very good looking. When I first started the game I was weirded out by the blinking animation, but I have since gotten used to that. The Bad: I found some of the plot rushed. Like you spend so long slow burn growing toward each other, and then suddenly stuff has to happen action movie style because we're running out of chapters. The final chapters of Fenrir's route were just plain dumb. Like could that BE more of an obvious trap. Come on MC, I expected better of you. Also, since this is a very new game, not that many routes are out (four at the time of writing). Best boy: Hooo man. Of the routes that are out, Ray is very… oooof. But my fave chars are probably 'so done' Sirius (the fact that he's voiced by Suwabe has nothing to do with this, surely) and 'also quite done' Kyle, who is both a doctor and an alcoholic wreck of a human being.

 Mystic Messenger

You know Mystic Messenger, it's like one of the biggest otome's of the past few years.

Platform: Android, iOS (free to play, pay for extra saves and stuff) The Story: MC follows a text message to a weirdly high tech apartment and this somehow puts her in the position of party planner for a secretive group of weird people. It only gets more complicated from there. The game plays out in real time, via chat conversations and the occasional story segment. Squick factor: Um. I personally wasn't weirded out, but I also decided very specifically not to play Jumin's route. This girl did her research. The routes in Another Story are also very over the top and would probably bug me. While I love the Saeran character, I don't think I'd be able to handle that route. So: highly dependent on chosen route. Protagonist’s spine: Adderall. It takes a specific kind of person to download a chat app and follow the instructions given by a random stranger therein. It takes a much stranger person to sit in an apartment with a bomb and just keep inviting people to a party. MC is on a different level from us mortals.

The Good: I loved the game mechanic, because it felt very real. The player is following a chatroom, just like the character is. Besides that, the story is completely bonkers and I appreciate that. The Bad: Did I mention it plays in real time? Because it plays in real time, meaning you get chat conversations at two in the morning. I was very sleep deprived when I played this. Best boy: 707. Dude is funny and deep and hot and relatable and smart and I want to give him all the hugs.

 Dream Daddy

One of the few decidedly mlm games I've played so far. You've probably heard of it since it was the subject of much hype and much controversy. Markiplier played it. Friggin Buzzfeed has video's on it.

Platform: PC and Mac (it's on Steam) The Story: MC is a Dad who moves into a neighbourhood with a lot of other single(-ish) dads. Time to work it. Squick factor: Low. This is primarily a humour game: there's a ton of dad jokes and silly mini games, and a distinct lack of kabe don's. The canon routes are all very thoughtful. Protagonist’s spine: Barbecued sausage. Player Dad just goes for it. He’s flexible and caring enough to handle the more sensitive subjects, and self aware enough to deal with random crime and weird drunks.

The Good: I remember opening this game and, in the character creation screen, telling a trans friend of mine 'omg you can wear binders', and the sheer Glee of his reaction. That's the kinda stuff this game was, partly, made for and it is appreciated. I really liked the tongue-in-cheek writing, most of the jokes landed and the whole thing is just a lot of fun. The Bad: Some of the minigames are annoying. Why the hell are you making me play Bejeweled with fish? I also had a hard time sympathizing with some of the kids. I mean… Lucien straight up tries to murder someone? Ernest is 'rebellious' but he's also an ass. Best dad: Damien has the best route, but have you Seen Mat? Holy moly.

 Not worth it games

Amnesia: Memories

This game should come with a friggin warning, so I'm giving it here. Its popularity and star rating is a terrible indicator for how much you may enjoy this game. It presents itself as a cute dating sim with gorgeous art, but it devolves into straight up horror, and not in the good way. This feels like a guidebook written in the 1800's to tell young women their place. Not even mortified intrigue could make me finish this. 

Platform: PC (Steam or Google Play) and PlayStation Vita Story: MC wakes up with amnesia. Someone hurt her and she doesn't know who to trust. You'll need to figure out what happened. Squick factor: Super high. Like… so high.  Everyone treats MC like shit and she just lets it happen, even developing all kinds of Stockholm Syndrome as she falls in love with these asshats. MC's childhood friend supposedly loves her but is such a tsun and just… doesn't communicate while also treating her like a small child. One of the other characters is so popular he has a fucking harem but MC is just supposed to wait for him to actually fall in love with her. And don't even get me started on that friggin yandere. *shudders* Even the secret route 'true love' character is a million types of wrong. Protagonist’s spine: Undercooked custard. MC has the self preservation skills of a wet sponge and whoever is playing this is supposed to get turned on by high concept ideas of S&M that are just written out so badly everything feels like an abusive relationship.

The Good: *sigh* The art. The art is very pretty (I'm upset at the art since it sucked me into the horror). Also, as a visual novel, this one is complex as all hell. There's a ton of endings  (most of them deadly) depending your actions as a player. It's vast, is what I'm saying. Also, I hear the clover route isn't as bad as some of the others, but I was too weirded out to try. The Bad: See rant. This is one of those games that really seems to glorify the whole possessive, abusive boyfriend shtick, but it's ok because he loves you, really. Ugh. Just… ugh. Best boy: Kent? I guess? He doesn't appear to be actively abusing MC at least.

 Shall we date: Lost Alice

I wondered if I should include this because I literally played like ten chapters  and then deleted it, but that in itself should give some indication.

Platform: Android (free to play, in-app premium purchases) Story: MC wakes up in the forest with amnesia (I see a trend). Turns out she's in Wonderland and everyone thinks she's Alice. Most of Wonderland's characters are, predictably, hot men. Squick  factor: Unavailable. I didn't play far enough to see but some of the men are quite pushy and also it's a Shall we date app, so… tread carefully. Protagonist’s spine: Cement. This is an MC that puts up a fight, which I respect. Sadly she does so in that 'needlessly aggressive' way that anime characters sometimes have. I didn't find her particularly sympathetic.

The Good: The art. It's always the art that gets me. The Bad: The UI annoyed the shit out of me. This is a free to play, pay for premiums game, so some level of mindless clicking is expected if you try to play for free. This one had just too much. There was friend greeting and picture rating and princess lessons and got knows what else, all taking a ton of time. Trying to get to the home page popped up at least four different 'now on sale' screens every single time. The writing wasn't good enough for me to deal with that. Best boy: Well there’s a cat. So.

 Decent games

Hustle cat

This game is set in a cat café, that was all the encouragement I needed to buy it.

Platform: PC (Steam) Story: MC is invited to take a job at a cat café. Turns out everyone in the café is cursed, and also they're into you. Squick factor: Almost non-existant. This is a very tumblr friendly game in the sense that your love interests are both male and female, and none of them are particularly pushy. The relationships feel pretty natural and mostly consist of MC helping their love interest with some subquest. Protagonist’s spine: Cucumber. MC is actually pretty cool. The game does that 'modern western game' thing where you get to pick a gender and a skin colour for your protag and the general atmosphere is 'tongue in cheek'. MC doesn't let people walk over them, but they're generally helpful.

The Good: CATS. The premise of this game is pretty neat. The Bad: According to Steam I played this five months ago, and I pretty much forgot about it. Fun game but not particularly memorable. Best cat: Landry. Tall, gentle giants are a particular weakness.

 Shall we date: Blood in Roses

This is me giving Shall we Date another shot, because the amount of hot mildly medieval boys was intriguing.

Platform: Android (free to play, in-app premiums) Story: There's two, because this app has been around for a while and now has two 'seasons'. The Witch stumbles upon a supposedly abandoned castle and gets imprisoned there by a bunch of vampires. The Hunter, meanwhile, seeks out the castle because she wants to stop an attack on her village. Both come to realize that the castle is now a hotel for monsters, and that its denizens are both not what they imagined, and also hot. Squick factor: Highly dependent on route. The Witch literally starts in a jail cell, so you can imagine the Stockholm Syndrome shit that goes down. Also, this is a personal preference, but I'm really weirded out by a lot of blood play stuff so most of the vampire routes are gonna be… problematic. Shall we Date games don't shy away from sex scenes and I like that, but coupling them with drinking blood 'to get in the mood' is a rather specific niche. The game does offer a number of other options for you to court, from werewolves to wizards and… grim reapers? It's a mixed batch. If you're not into pushed boundaries I can offer one tip: stay away from the vampires. Protagonist’s spine: Sand cookie. She has one, but it's brittle. I've mostly played Hunter routes and it's like… she tries, and she can take care of herself but she also tolerates more bullshit than necessary, ya know.

The Good: The art is good, and some of the storylines are intriguing despite my reservations. I'm still playing it (mostly in a quest to find a good ending where MC doesn't die to become a weird immortal creature).  The UI, while annoying, isn't as bad as Lost Alice's, or so it seems. The Bad: The writing is very hit or miss. There's routes where the guy just sort of lowkey stalks MC, until she suddenly decides she's incredibly in love with him. There's others  that make even less sense, and then there's ones that feel more natural. In general, MC's actions don't  seem to have a lot of thought put into them. Best boy: So far: Gordon. He's cute and sensible and tortured and not incredibly antagonistic.

 Midnight Cinderella

You'll notice a friggin ton of Cybird games on here.

Platform: Android (free to play, premium purchases) Story: MC gets, mostly by accident, chosen to be the Princess of Wysteria. As such she must prepare to govern the country when the king dies, and choose a consort from a number of suitors. Squick factor: Low. Not only are these men respectful of her, they're rather literally treating her like royalty. Having said that, there is a lot of the typical hurtful tsun stuff going in several routes. Protagonist’s spine: Lightly done steak. There's something weird going on with the protag in this game. When it comes to governing, she's tough as nails. She's thrown into a situation she wasn't ready for, and while this stresses her out 24/7, she performs admirably. On the other hand, her main reaction to literally anything when it comes to love is 'Oh'. She cries a lot, at times she feels like a wet rag. There's a bunch of situations she could have just solved by going 'Yeah I'm into you'. She's complex, I guess.

The Good: The writing, while melodramatic, is nice. The art is good as well. The Bad: This is an old game and it doesn't perform that well on my current-gen smartphone. Expect to push certain buttons several times before the game realizes what you're trying to do. Also the loading takes ages. Best boy: For me, Sid, because he reminds me of Aomine Daiki and I'm weak for that type of personality. As far as routes go, Leo's probably had the most impact on me.

 Destined to Love

I'll be honest, I started this because of an event in Ikemen Sengoku that would give me cross game storage. Don't judge me.

The Story: MC gets flung back in time (this is also a trend, it seems) to the 1800's, a few weeks before the Ikedaya incident will make the Shinsen-gumi a historic Legend. She meets, and chrams, a whole bunch of historical figures. Protagonist’s spine: Cured leather. As a modern woman sent back in time, MC is probably fairly sassy by the standards of the time, but she remains mostly polite. She's tough, considering the circumstances, but quite pliable in that 'we'll see where this goes and make the best of it' way. Squick factor: Low. There's one character that just screams 'red flag' but I have yet to try his route. Since this is a Cybird game, most of the guys are pretty respectful.

The Good: I really like the premise? As the title suggests, MC's love is part of a higher destiny, one that transcends time, and it's one of the reasons she has to go to friggin 1800's Japan. She has a hand in making history. This amuses me. Also, the guys are pretty good looking. The Bad: This is a fairly old mobile game and you can kinda tell. On a technical level it's not as bad as Midnight Cinderella, but again the touch buttons aren't always responsive. Besides that, some of the writing is rather clunkily translated and a bunch of the art is low res. Best Boy: I haven't played all the routes here, but Katsura is a god damn sweetheart, and Kyo and Yamazaki seem adorable AF.

 The weird: the special ones

Hatoful Boyfriend

The reason I know otome's exist. This one shot to meme status a few years back.

Platform: PC (it's on Steam) Story: MC is one of the last remaining humans after sentient birds took over the world. She gets enrolled into an elite school for pigeons. Squick factor: Medium to high. The major thing to understand about Hatoful is that on the surface it looks like a particularly silly dating sim with pigeons, but dig deeper and it is Also a full blown apocalyptic horror story. And it follows the genre where a wrong move gets MC horrifically killed. Having said that, several of the routes, including the god damn serial killer one, didn't bother me as much as something like Amnesia, because they were not sold as romantic. Maybe it's the whole pigeon thing, maybe it's the general weirdness of the plot, or maybe it is because said serial killer actually goes 'Surely you knew this would happen', before he guts you. Protagonist’s spine: Gummy bear. MC is highly forgettable, but therefore also like… not annoying. The main focus here is on uncovering the many layered plot and the player character doesn't really have a scripted personality, she just embodies the player's actions.

The Good: This whole game is so out there. There's a reason it became so popular. It's an Experience. The plot is over the top and intricate and Weird, and that makes it intriguing. There's a ton of routes and endings, some more secret than others. The 'human' version of some of these birds is kinda hot (sadly that includes the serial killer). The Bad: the plot is so weird and meandering that it's kinda hard to follow at times. I'm fairly certain it takes several guides to unlock all the endings. Best Birb: It's been a while, but I remember liking Yuuya's route quite a lot.

 Monster Prom

The new hype.

Platform: PC (Steam!) Story: MC is a student at Monster High, and is trying to get a date for Monster Prom with one of the hot people. Squick factor: None. I mean, nothing that happens here is in accordance to health and safety norms, but that's kinda the point. It's a parody game, making fun of all the hoops teenagers are willing to jump through to become popular. Protagonist's spine: Coagulated blood. MC is willing to make deals with demons, wear corpses as a hat, anything really. The question is very openly: what could I do to make them like me.

The Good: It's a funny game. I like the characters, who embody everything from the Mean Girl to the Hipster Nerd and the Needlessly Aggressive Jock. The art is simple, cartoon style, but pretty neat. The Bad: Everything is very tongue in cheek, which leaves it a little… light for my tastes. I don't feel like any of the routes matter in the grand scheme of things, MC hasn't truly touched anyone's heart. The whole thing is a joke game, so it's funny, but a bit shallow. Best monster: Polly, the permanently stoned party girl.

 Cute Demon Crashers

Technically a sex game? But a really very special one.

Platform: PC (free! Here!) Story: A portal opens in MC's house and four Incubi/Succubi drop through. To apologize for the inconvenience, while they wait for a portal back, they offer to teach MC about sex. Squick factor: I've written about this game before and the best thing, the very best thing about it is how incredibly consent-minded it is. Like, even if you're already in bed, getting it on, there's always an option to turn back and leave it at that. The demons are really just there to help MC find out what gives her pleasure. Protagonist’s spine: Rock. Obviously, MC is mildly upset about four random demons showing up. As mentioned before, what happens next is mostly up to the player.

The Good: It's free and the art is pretty and I love the premise. The Bad: Kinda short, but again: free. Cutest Demon Crasher: *cough* Orias *cough*

[dhampyre]

If Shawn and I ever speak again, I want to say this:

First of all, it was not a fair situation for you to be in. You basically had to choose between me and your family. So I can appreciate the pain you must have felt when your mother told you to end it. The cultural influence was clearly just too strong and you were never going to defy it. I really don't believe that you would have dumped me if your mother had approved of me. It was very clear that your family's approval was very important to you. So I can appreciate that and I acknowledge it.

But you did say some things in the end that were very hurtful to me and that I'm never going to forget. I have to say my piece and I want you to understand. 

When you told me that you didn't like my hair. Even if that's how you truly feel about my natural hair, some things are better left unsaid. You really should have known better than to say that to me, especially because I had told you beforehand that when you grow up as a black person in America, especially as a black girl with hair like mine, you are taught that it's ugly. As a black person in America, society teaches you that the features that make you uniquely African in descent (your hair type, your skin color, your nose,  etc.) are unattractive and ugly. And that can cause many black women to form a complex. I still struggle to see my natural hair as beautiful and I honestly don't. It's messed up. And so to hear someone (especially someone I really liked) say out loud that he didn't like my hair...that really deeply hurt me in a way that I don't think you'll ever be able to fully comprehend. It's in my genetics and there's nothing I can do about it. It would be like me saying that I don't like your nose or some other feature that you can't control. And then the last time we spoke on the phone when you said you realized you weren't attracted to me, didn't like my features, and you were forcing it... That was just incredibly hurtful to hear. But I didn't believe it because I don't believe that any man who knows deep down that he isn't even attracted to me would do or say the things that you did and said. I also don't believe that a man who knew he couldn't ultimately be with me would have tried to force anything. I think you knew from the start that me not being Indian was going to be a problem. But you didn't really want to believe it. You didn't make it out to be as big of a deal as it really was. I think you really were attracted me and even loved me. I mean, you really went above and beyond to spend time with me and get to know me and treat me like you really cared for me. You would drive an hour just to pick me up and drive me around and pay for things. Even when you had long days at work, you would still drive an hour just to pick me up and go to the gym with me for 2 hours, buy me food, then drive me home, then drive yourself home, and not even get home until past 11:00 p.m., when you knew that you'd have to wake up at 6:00 the next morning and repeat. I don't believe that anyone would ever force himself to be so inconvenienced.

You were so excited about me that you told your sister about me the day after our first date. You were so happy that she approved of me that you had to call me the day after that just to tell me about it. You said that you missed me after we had only been apart for one day. You wanted me to meet people from your temple. You had me meet one of your closest friends. You called me every day after you got out of work. You talked about us moving in together and tried to encourage me to choose residency programs close to you so that we could be closer to each other. You got me a single red rose. Everyone knows what that symbolizes. It means love at first sight, I love you, you are the one. You could have gotten me any other type of flower, but you must have made a conscious decision to give me a single red rose. I believe that meant something. I believe that's what you were trying to tell me. All of the things you did were serious. You made me feel that you were serious about me. At first, I was very guarded and thought that you were becoming too attached to me too quickly. But some men actually do fall in love that fast and hard. You really had me believing that you were in love with me. I mean you basically told me as much. At the end of one of our dates, you leaned out of your window and said "my love." You did all of the sappy shit that men don't do if they are not in love with a woman. The way you would hug me a lot. You would always be touching me. The way you would look at me when you wanted to kiss me. You would hold my hand and kiss it as you drove me around, translating the lyrics to the Punjabi love songs you would play. You asked me for my advice on things in your life and listened to and remembered the things I would say. You talked about me as a part of your future plans. I believe that you were being genuine. So telling me in the end that you were forcing things and weren't attracted to me was extremely hurtful. You told me on the first date that you're always honest and blunt. Well, either you lied when you told me that, or you lied every time you told me that you found me attractive and beautiful and sexy and intelligent and the full package. I don't know why anybody would lie to me like that. It's just cruel and unusual. And I don't believe that's who you are. You should have just said "my family is against it and I can never go against them" and left it at that. It would have hurt me much less.

I was really hurt by the way things ended. I truly felt that we had a real connection and we could have had a very fulfilling relationship. I was devastated that we never got to fully realize it. I wish that things would have gone differently. I thought I was ok at first when you initially ended it. But the more I thought about it, the more hurt I felt and it must have been because I really did love you. I just felt that I was being rejected because I'm black and that made it feel a billion times worse.

And when you told me that you felt like a slave and couldn't be yourself, that made me believe that you were really just making decisions based on what your family wanted, not on what you wanted. I think you think that if you can make your mom proud, then you will be happy. But it appeared to me that you'd been trying to make her proud your whole life and that you weren't truly happy. I think that's unfortunate. I don't think that's how your life should be. I know it's a cultural thing and you are Indian. That is a huge part of your identity. But you are also American. And you seem to be trying to straddle two different cultures. I just don't think that cultural differences should stop people who care about each other from being together, especially not if they're open to learning about and accepting each other's culture. I was open to everything about you. I even thought about taking a formal class to learn Hindi and Punjabi. Not just so that I could communicate with you, but also for my own benefit. I've always loved learning about different languages and cultures and was open to yours. I felt I was rejected by someone who saw me through a stereotypical lens and I wasn't even given a fair chance. That really hurt.

[randomobsessionsofa30something]

My top10 favorite korean albums of 2017

This year was filled with interesting korean music. I'll soon pick my favorite songs of the year but first I made a list of my favorite albums. Because there were so many singles released that I loved, both lists are bound to be different even if there will be some coincidences. 

Honorable Mention. Red Velvet- Perfect Velvet For me, this album is the best Red Velvet has released. I just find this album to be complex and with the exception of Attaboy I liked every song. I thought the songs have a lot of layers. Apart from the title Peek-a-boo, Kingdom Comes and Moonlight Melody are a most listen.

10. Jonghyun-The Collection “Story Op.2″. I made this list before Jonghyun passed away so I struggled whether I should even mention him or maybe place him higher in the list but I think both things would be just a reaction to what happened. Having said that, this album is great. Lonely, the title, was a bit weak for my high expectations of Jonghyun’s music. Now the lyrics seem to have more depht than I first thought but maybe I’m just over thinking it. The songs are based on the stories he talked about in his radio show. Thinking back maybe he also wrote them because he identify himself with those feelings. Then again maybe that would be reading too much into it. Every song is worth listening to. Love Is So Nice is such a delight to listen but Let Me Out is a masterpiece.

9. BewhY-The blind star. For me BewhY is one of the most amazings korean rappers, when I listen to his flow I just find amazing how he creates the kind of rhythm I’ve only heard in american rappers yet he has his unique style. This album shows just that. The only song that I was not that excited about was 9ucci Bank which was the title. I just didn’t love the hook, Dok2 was amazing though. The stand outs for me were Red Carpet, Where Am I ft Gaeko and My Star. However the whole album is worth listening to.

8. IU-Palette. IU has broken all kind of records in sales and charts in Korea throughout the past few years. I've known of her for a while of course and to tell you the truth even if I think she has a pretty voice and enjoyed a couple of her songs I never thought she was that good. Why? Well outside of kpop the music I listen the most is indie/folk and that's exactly IU's style. So every time I listen to it I think it's pretty but nothing new. Without reading about her likes and dislikes in music I can tell she listens to a lot of what I listen to, people like Lucy Rose, Feist, Birdy and London Grammar. In Palette I still see a lot of those influences but there's definitely some interesting songs and the album has a cohesive feel even if she plays with different genres. Her title Palette is inevitably the best song of the album. Not only the lyrics are about being 25 and I can definitely relate but also the song is catchy and just when you begin to think is a bit repetitive GD does his thing and lifts the quality of the song. Love the artsy MV. In Ending Scene and Full Stop there's so much emotion in her voice that it's inevitable to pay attention, they kind of make me think they would be great OSTs. Can't Love You Anymore with Oh Hyuk has a more edgy feel.

7. Taemin-MOVE. This album starts with a bang and keeps surprising you with every song. I didn’t love the songs that were added for the repackage (they’re good, I just prefer the others) but for me the first version of this album is pretty much perfect. The pop, dance and r&b mixture in this eclectic album blew me away. Apart from the sexy chill single Move, check out Love, Heart Stop, Rise, Thirsty and Flame of Love. 

6. Zion.T- OO. Zion T’s voice is so unique that it’s impossible not to notice. Of course I’d heard Yanghwa Bridge but didn’t get into Zion.T until this year. I really do think he’s a genius songwritter. Every song in this album has some element that feels new. The Song, the title, is just an easy to sing along song with a great hook that’s totally addictive. Cinema, The Bad Guys and Complex (ft. GD) are my favorites of the album.

5.  Bobby-Love and fall. People who have followed me this year won’t be surprised by this choice because I shared my thoughts after I first listened to this album and I just loved it. I wish it did better on the charts. I still don’t know why it didn’t when the album is so good. BOBBY, who has done a heavy party hip hop style ever since his appearance in Show Me The Money, did a 180 for this album and showed a softer side. To a lot of people’s surprise it turns out he can sing and his voice is unique. What I’m most impressed about is his song writting skills. The whole album is amazing. My favorites are Runaway, Alien, Tandae and In Love.

4. EPIK HIGH-We've done something wonderful. This album took me by surprise. I always check out Epik High's stuff and it's always cool. I was once again expecting something great but I didn't imagine just how much I would love this album. Every song has amazing lyrics. They're hip hop is in most cases supported by great vocals (Lee Hi, OhHyuk, IU, Kim Jong Wan, Lee Suhyun and Crush). My absolute favorite song of the album is Home is far away ft OH HYUK. Here come the regrets ft Lee Hi, Love Story ft IU and NO THANXXX ft MINO, Simon Dominic and The Quiett.

3. GD-Kwon Ji Yong. I keep describing GD’s music just by saying “well is G-DRAGON there’s nothing else to say”. This album is only five songs, one is an intro, another is an outro so I know it’s weird to still put it in third place when there was so many albums that are so amazing this year but for me it still stands out. As expected every song is a bop but his title Untitled, 2014 is just the definition of a perfect ballad. The amount of feelings that song has is contagious. It’s even more impressive among the hip hop songs in the album. The other song I absolutely love in this album is OUTRO (Divina Commedia).

2. Zico-Television. Last year Zico had such a great year and this year was no different. Had a bunch of very interesting collabs but his mini album Television is just incredible every song is just so on point. I find Genius(Behind the Scenes) and Artist to be fun. Fanxy Child ft Fanxy Child is just cool and Dean’s hook is just too much to handle. She’s a baby is just beautiful (love the MV by the way). However is ANTI that blew me away. The lyrics, G. Soul’s vocals and that heavy beat left a big impression from the very first time I listen to it.

1. EXO- THE WAR: The Power of Music. I’m totally biased when it comes to EXO. I know that. I still can confidently say there’s not a weak song in this album. Every song has its own flavor but somehow feels like they belong in the same album. This album mixes pop, dance, r&b and hip hop. I love every song  from THE WAR album and I can’t bring myself to choose a favorite: is Forever better than Kokobop? Is The Eve better than Diamond? Is What U do better than Going Crazy? Is Chill better than Touch it? However when the repackage came out things changed. Sweet Lies for me is head and shoulders above the rest. I loved everything about it. Boomerang and Power are also great addition to THE WAR thus completing the 12 track repackage called The Power of Music.