#unfortunately i am now stuck with the aftertaste

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Stimming along to the rhythmic ticking of the toaster oven as I wait for my bagel to toast

[tergridguy]

Cigar of the Day: Straightjacket by Asylum

The Asylum Straightjacket. What a beautiful cigar band to start off with, right? I mean, even if it was a garbage cigar, I would be tempted to keep one of these around just as an ornament. Never mind the fact that it's a theme that resonates with me.

I am a man who knows my way around a psychiatric hospital in both a personal and professional capacity and so Asylum has always appealed to me as much as I sometimes find the branding problematic. the Asylum 'Schizo' in particular-- I kind-of think it's cool, but also I know a lot of people who would find it offensive. So, you know, I'm a little on the fence on that, but at the end of the day, I work at the nut house and I'm tickled by a madhouse themed cigar, although, I might advise them to be a little bit more sensitive. But you know, whatever...

Right after ignition the Straightjacket gives me warm cream of wheat out of a wooden bowl with a wooden spoon, finished wood forward. You're licking the spoon after mixing up some brownie mix but there's no more mix, just spoon. It's not terrifically compelling.

It's definitely giving me whole grain vibes. About an inch in the flavor profile widens a little bit, really reminds me of multi-grain bread or like I'm biting into a bunch of different seeds and flax and that kind of thing.

Underlying everything, there's this unpleasant note of burnt toast. Somebody fucked up breakfast is the vibe. We fucked up the good stuff and you're stuck with the rest, the healthy stuff.

But hell, it sure looks pretty; an Instagrammable breakfast I guess, but not so tasty. It's burning pretty solidly, tiny bit of skew, but nothing that requires a correction. It's not bad it just feels like it's missing something and it kind of feels like there's something there that shouldn't be. The last final piece that would have made this good got swapped out for a defective part, kind of disappointing. I am still not even halfway through the first third though, so I'm going to give it a little time and see where we end up.

On to the second third. Nearly halfway through I detect this note which I find somewhat unpleasant. I would describe it as a wet bitter note. This is not necessarily a bad flavor. It is a note that I find prevalent in certain cigars and those cigars just aren't to my taste personally-- I just don't like that particular flavor.

I find that this is building over the course of this cigar, which is not my favorite. It feels like it's lacking an accompaniment that it would need for me to appreciate it, or maybe it's just a particular flavor profile that doesn't suit my taste. I will not say that it is bad objectively; I prefer a dry astringency to this more moist feeling bitterness and this ain't giving it to me which is unfortunate because it's a look.

I love the look of this cigar, but the experience leaves me wanting. I am now most of the way through the second third and it hits me what this note is that I don't like very much. Almonds.

I don't particularly care for almonds. I won't turn my nose up at a chocolate bar with almonds in it, but I'd probably rather have it without. They have this bitter aftertaste that turns me off of them and that's what I taste in this cigar.

Many cigars have this note of almond and it's something I just don't like. I know a lot of people love almonds, they are popular, so I really don't want to necessarily turn people off this if that's something that appeals to you. For me, unfortunately, it's a pass.

Or is it? The final third really turned this one around for me actually. I kept getting all these notes I don't particularly like, but it can't be denied that there is an interesting progression. It does take you on a journey and once I finally get to the end and I'm almost burning band, it all kind of comes together and I'm like, "You know what? Now that it's all here, I actually don't mind it. This is fine."

But, I shouldn't have to wait for two thirds of the cigar to be over to start enjoying myself. But I could see how another person with different preferences, different tastes would find this compelling.

I mean, it is an interesting medium body cigar that is dynamic, has a range of flavors that develop and come in and out over the course of the experience--the elements just aren't my favorite, they aren't to my taste.

I think that this is a fine cigar and it's a very handsome cigar, but in terms of the flavor profile it is not something that I'm going to be reaching for very often, if ever.

Which is just too bad because it is gorgeous

[nurseanddex]

1/2 fluff and nurseydex for the prompts please!

Oh my god thank you so much for this prompt because it hard core inspired me to produce some of the most tooth rotting fluff of my life!

Send me a prompt and a pairing from one of these lists if you feel so inclined, just please specify which list it’s from! :)

Prompts: “how much did you drink?” and “aw, you’re so cute.”

Will Poindexter forgot one very important thing during a long summer away from Samwell. Tub juice was magically malicious.

Somehow, despite the truly obscene amounts of so many different kinds of alcohol used in its creation, tub juice didn’t taste like alcohol. It just tasted like juice. This particular batch tasted vaguely like fruit punch, only the slight bite of the aftertaste betraying the staggering amount of alcohol contained inside.

Which is why during the first kegster of his junior year, Will was three and a half glasses of the disturbingly lime green concoction in when he was suddenly hit by the tub juice all at once. Will was no lightweight, but his now drunken brain recalled Shitty once saying that tub juice could probably knock a bear off its feet if it drank enough. He felt himself start swaying, his balance disturbed by the effects of the alcohol. His legs didn’t seem to want to keep him upright anymore, so he started making his way to the edge of the room where he could lean against a wall and let it do most of the work. Slowly and extremely unsteady, he had almost made it when his foot caught on the corner of the stupid couch.

Will barely had time to register that he was going down before a strong arm had snaked around his waist, arresting his fall and pulling him back upright, into a surprisingly firm chest. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks when he realized, after far too long to play off as accidental, that somehow his hands had wound up positioned on his hero’s insane pecs and abs. And he had spent the last ten seconds essentially feeling him up. Panicking, he tried to pull away but over corrected, losing his footing. He would have fallen were it not for the tighter than strictly necessary grip that his hero had on his waist.

“I thought I was supposed to be the clumsy one, Poindexter,” a familiar voice declared in his ear, struggling to be heard over the thumping bass beat of Ransom and Holster’s party playlist, still in use despite them having graduated. The blush on his cheeks turned fire engine red as his alcohol logged brain registered just whose arms he was in.

“Scuz you are,” Dex slurred, unable to bring himself to meet Nursey’s intoxicatingly green eyes, “You tripped on air an fell down the stairs at Faber, 'member?” Nursey laughed, and Dex could feel it ripple through his chest. He’d never hugged another man for this long before, and it was making his dumb unrequited little crush harder and harder to ignore.

“And yet, I’m not the one in a fight with gravity tonight.” Dex tried to wriggle free of Nursey’s grasp, but his limbs no longer appeared to be responding to his brain, making it futile. Nursey seemed to realize what he was trying to do and relaxed his grip, but still kept a hand on his waist to steady him.

“Seriously though, Dex, are you good? How much did you drink?” The concern in his voice surprised Dex. Sure, they had come a long way from the constant bickering of their frog year, but Dex would never have thought they’d become close enough for Nursey to worry about him.

“I din drink tha much.” Dex cringed when the words came out sounding as drunk as he felt.

“That’s what I thought,” Nursey chuckled. “Come on, lets get you upstairs.” He wound his arm around Dex’s waist again and gently maneuvered him through the crowded party and up the stairs to their room. He continued to hold Dex tucked closely into his side even away from the crush of the crowd, fumbling one handed with the key to unlock their door. Sober Dex would have spent ten minutes overthinking what that could possibly mean, but he did not have the mental capacity for that train of thought in his current state. After what felt like an eon, Nursey finally got the door open and deposited Dex down onto his bunk.

“Now, are you going to help me get you ready for bed, or am I going to have to undress you myself?” Nursey smirked, and damnit, Dex was blushing fire engine red all over again. He cursed the universe for his pathetic crush on Derek Nurse, and Nursey for managing to say all the right things to keep him from ever being able to get over it. Nursey had begun to unlace his sneakers, making Dex worried that maybe he was actually serious about undressing him. He tried to pull his shirt over his head, his poor gay heart would not survive being undressed by Derek Nurse.

Unfortunately for him, he somehow managed to get stuck. He could hear Nursey’s stupidly perfect laugh, muffled through the fabric, then suddenly gentle hands were easing his head and arms free. Nursey tugged the fabric away and then they were face to face in the darkness, Nursey’s lips distractingly close. Dex forced himself to breathe, trying desperately to think about literally anything else but kissing Nursey.

“You think you can handle it from here?” Nursey asked, not breaking eye contact until Dex nodded belatedly. Dex waited until Nursey had gone into the bathroom they shared with Chowder before struggling with his jeans. When he’d finally managed to fight his way free, he stumbled to the dresser for a clean pair of pajama pants. He was thoroughly impressed with himself for managing to pull them on and get back into his bed without incident. Nursey came out of the bathroom, the light illuminating him from behind and making him look like an honest to god angel descended from the heavens.

Aw, god, you’re so cute it’s insane, Dex thought, trying not to stare too hard at Nursey’s stupid chiseled abs.

Nursey froze.

The silence stretched on for a moment as Nursey stared at Dex in disbelief, and Dex could not understand why until-

“Fuck, did I say that out loud?” he cursed, praying to whoever might be listening that the ground would swallow him up immediately. Nursey nodded, walking over to sit on the floor next to Dex’s bunk.

“Did you mean it?” he whispered, the expression on his face unreadable. Dex briefly contemplated taking the out, blaming it all on the tub juice. But he was never going to have any peace living with Nursey if he never got over his stupid crush, so he steeled himself for the rejection and forced himself to meet Nursey’s gaze.

“Spossible I have a bit of a crush on you,” he admitted, and then Nursey was suddenly on top of him and they were kissing and Dex thought that this was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“God, Dex, I’ve had a thing for you for ages,” Nursey breathed, when they finally broke apart.

“Why would you ever-” Nursey shut him up with a hungry kiss that burned away every doubt before he could voice them.

                                                         ~~~

They woke up the next morning in a tangle of limbs to golden sunlight streaking through their windows. Somehow, Nursey was even more beautiful first thing in the morning, practically glowing in the sunshine. Dex snuggled closer, and Nursey sleepily pulled him fully into his arms, silent reassurance that the events of last night hadn’t been the product of a drunken dream.

“Hey, Dex?”

“What?”

“Did you know that when you blush it goes all the way down your chest?” Nursey laughed.

“Oh my god, I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“You do not, you loooooooooooove me.”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Nursey just gave him a gentle kiss in response, and Dex smiled against his lips. Maybe getting chirped within an inch of his life wasn’t so bad if it ended in kisses.

[muselover1901]

Re: prompts. “Quarantine.” Alternatively, something based off urban legends. Thanks!

Well it took me forever, but hey, the world is crazy and I am just so proud of myself for finishing this Quarantine AU for you! It’s definitely WAY bigger than a drabble (at just over 2700 words) but I had a lot of fun writing it and it really pushed my abilities as a writer. Thank you for the ask! Enjoy :)

Edit: Now posted to AO3

Here With(out) You

“Are you getting close to finishing? It’s almost eight o’clock and we haven’t eaten dinner yet,” Zen says as he plops down beside Shirayuki—well, not exactly beside her, but just outside the orbit of her ever-present sticky notes, journal articles, and scratch-paper lesson plans. She acknowledges his presence with a noncommittal hum before continuing her vigorous typing on the laptop balanced on her knees. Even before the pandemic, it wasn’t totally unusual for Shirayuki to work late—she is a graduate student, after all—but lately she has been spending every waking hour on either her lab’s vaccine research or creating online lessons for her introductory biology students.

Zen’s work-life balance honestly hasn’t been much better, but since most of his work as the Mayor’s Chief of Staff involves writing reports and attending video call meetings, he can turn off his computer at the end of the day and walk away from work. Shirayuki, unfortunately, does not have the same luxury.

His stomach growls, upset at the lack of food this late in the evening. Zen reaches over, guiding a stray hair behind her ear before setting his palm against her shoulder to get her attention.

“I can make us something easy, if you want. You really should take a break to eat something.”

Shirayuki doesn’t respond. He squeezes her shoulder gently and dips his head to try to catch her gaze, but she reacts with naught but a firm pursing of her lips as she scrutinizes her screen even more. Zen gives her a small shake, as if to wake her.

“Hm?” She blinks up at him, broken from her trance, her voice sounding thin and tired. “Sorry, Zen, I really need to get this done tonight.”

She gestures vaguely to the smudged sticky-note to-do list by her laptop keyboard, the usual tasks of exercise, meal prep, and do something fun with Zen and friends crammed between terms he half-recognizes as different types of data analyses.

���We have our Friday meeting tomorrow and I need to have the preliminary results ready to present.”

“It’s fine,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down her arm and offering her a tender smile as she turns back to her spreadsheet. She is such a hard worker, and right now she’s both working to save lives and to educate the next generation of scientists. Now was not the time to be selfish—even though he misses spending time with her, they just have to push through. And if that means Zen has to cook meals by himself, without Shirayuki’s incredible culinary talent for support, then he will gladly put his limited skill to use.

“How about I make pancakes?” he suggests, “I think we still have some eggs that need to be used, so I could scramble them too—if you want?”

Without looking up, Shirayuki murmurs a dry, “Sounds great, thank you.”

Zen stands and makes his way to their kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he goes. Even after three years of living together and countless Sundays spent chopping endless armies of vegetables as they prepped meals, there are few dishes he trusts himself to cook properly. It’s Mitsuhide and Kiki’s fault, really. When they were his roommates sophomore year, he tried his hand at a simple vegetable stew to feed Mitsuhide’s hockey team at their annual fall party. The final product honestly wasn’t half bad, but he forgot to peel the vegetables, which gave the soup a mild dirt-like aftertaste.

He honestly thought he would be able to laugh it off and learn from such a minor culinary mistake, but it turned out almost no one was willing to let him live it down—even Shirayuki couldn't resist the occasional jab when they cooked together. Indeed, one of the last times they enjoyed quality time together was during a massive day of meal prepping after their first pandemic shopping trip. Hours of chopping and grating and sautéing had driven them a little crazy, and Shirayuki had broken out in giggles while he diligently peeled his seventeenth potato.

It had taken some prodding, but eventually she managed to hold back her laughter enough to snicker, "It’s nice of you to actually peel them this time."

He’d responded with the most convincing glare he could muster before selecting a particularly long piece of peel from the pile on the counter, turning to her with a dangerous smirk, and depositing said peel on top of her head. This only served to bring back her laughter in full-force, the contagiousness of it gripping him and dragging him along until their whole house reverberated with the ridiculousness of it all.

Unlike vegetable soups, Zen had yet to mess up a batch of pancakes in his lifetime, a fact which he was quite proud of. That’s why he’d chosen to make them for Shirayuki the first morning after she stayed the night at his place. They’d groggily rolled out of bed, blushing furiously as they realized that their late-night study session for Advanced Composition had ended with both of them passed out on top of Zen’s covers with their laptops discarded by the foot of the bed. He’d insisted on making her breakfast before she left, partly because he felt bad about their awkward start to the day, but mostly because he’d been smitten with her for months and he just wanted to keep doing things with her.

Zen smiles at the memory as he gathers the ingredients and begins measuring out the flour. Even after all this time, he still treasures every moment together. And now, as they are stuck working from home for the foreseeable future, he misses her more than he did before they moved in together. Although they are around each other nearly all day, every day, they hardly interact outside of breakfast and a kiss goodnight. He sighs and forces his focus back to mixing the batter. Shirayuki is working hard and here he is being selfish again. He should be stronger.

Pushing down his loneliness, he flings himself into scrambling eggs and flipping pancakes with gusto. He quickly finishes the first set of pancakes, butters them, and stacks them neatly on Shirayuki’s plate next to her portion of eggs. For the final touch, he sprinkles a hint of powdered sugar across them and places a little dollop of fruit preserves on top. Hopefully these would look appetizing enough to entice her into taking a break from work to eat. With her plate in hand, Zen makes his way back to the living room and sets her meal on the coffee table.

“Food’s ready,” he announces. “Please don’t forget to eat.”

Shirayuki pauses, tired eyes flicking away from her screen to meet his and offering all the gratitude she can muster. “Thank you, Zen. I promise I will eat as soon as I finish this analysis.”

Zen offers a quick smile in return before heading back to the kitchen to make dinner for himself. He’d better check on her soon, just to make sure she doesn’t get sucked into her work despite her promise—although it is never intentional, her basic needs often fall by the wayside when she is hyper-focused like this.

Fifteen minutes later, Zen returns to the living room with his own stack of pancakes (chocolate chip) and scrambled eggs (sprinkled with his friend Obi’s homemade hot sauce, because the pain was always worth the flavor). And just as he feared, Shirayuki hasn’t touched her food.

“How’s it coming? Are you going to eat soon?” Zen settles into his spot on the couch next to her and cuts into his pancakes with his fork.

“Hm? Oh yes, I figured out why that regression was behaving unexpectedly, I had just flipped the variables.” She bites her lip. “I guess after I fixed that, I just moved on to the next thing.”

Zen reaches out to tenderly place a hand on her cheek and guide her eyes away from her screen and to his own. Her eyelids droop a little, and he notices a small crease between her eyebrows—she looks so tired. He drags his thumb across her cheekbone and her eyes flutter shut as she relaxes into his hand.

His heart skips a little at the intimacy of their position; after all, it had been weeks since they had really shared a moment like this, just comfortable in stillness with each other’s full attention. Eyes still closed, Shirayuki reaches up to hold his hand against her cheek and sighs as she turns her head to press her lips against his palm. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she releases him and turns to exchange her laptop for her plate.

Although she continues working while they eat, Zen is relieved to see her diligently taking bites between bits of code. It doesn’t take long before she cleans her plate entirely. With a yawn, Zen stretches and rises from the couch before collecting their dishes and returning to the kitchen to clean up. The clock above the stove reads 10:08pm.

How did it get so late? He’d just have to head right to bed after this. Dozing off during his morning call with the Mayor was not how he wanted to start his day tomorrow.

After finishing the dishes and changing into his sleep shirt, he returns to the living room to let Shirayuki know he’s going to bed—apparently she still has a couple hours of work ahead of her, but she promised she’d come to bed as soon as she was done. With Shirayuki resigned to her work for the night, Zen heads to their bed and does his best to get comfortable. As the weight of the blanket settles over him, he melts into the mattress and takes the deepest, most relaxing breath he’s taken all day. Despite his body giving in to its need to rest, Zen’s mind still races with thoughts of the meeting tomorrow morning and of the latest case counts in the city. God, he can’t wait for the day when all of this chaos is over. He and Shirayuki could take a weekend off and hike Mount Koto just like they did senior year after finals. He sighs at the thought.

Visions of them packing their picnic supplies into his old backpack flash through his mind. He’s smiling as he makes Shirayuki’s sandwich with the mustard by the meat and the veggies under the cheese, just the way she likes it. The sunshine warms their faces as they walk along the trail, and Shirayuki is a vision in her button-up hiking shirt and sunhat, all glowing skin and bright smiles. He reaches their picnic spot first, so he spreads their blanket and sets out their food. Shirayuki’s still a ways behind, but she’ll be there with him soon, he tells himself. She will. He busies himself smoothing the blanket and making sure her sandwich is arranged just so with a nice serving of chips and a gleaming red apple.

He’s just about to polish her apple for a second time when he realizes he doesn’t hear the crunch of her footsteps on the trail anymore. Panicked, he shoots up from his seat and runs over to the trail to try to find her, to no avail. Maybe she went off-trail to relieve herself? No that can’t be it, she’s taking way too long, and she would have told him if she was going off trail, right? Oh god—what if she hurt herself and she’s stuck somewhere down the trail? Zen abandons the picnic and runs as fast as his legs can take him down the trail, until—

He hears the faint tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Looking across the trail, he sees the edge of a laptop screen poking out from behind a tree. As he approaches it, the sound gets louder and louder, until it feels almost deafening and Zen has to cover his ears to avoid the incessant din. He looks around the tree’s thick trunk and sees Shirayuki in front of the screen, her hair disheveled and eyes unblinking as she types away.

She’s absolutely overworking herself! Zen can’t let her keep doing this. He should have caught it before it got this bad, he should have pulled her away from work and made her take care of herself. Regardless, he refuses to let this go on any longer. He takes a deep breath, removes his hands from his ears, and reaches out to set his hand on her shoulder as he always does when he needs to get her attention. His hand goes right through her, as if she were a ghost.

He wakes to find her side of the bed empty.

Zen’s sleep shirt is clinging to his sweating chest and the sheets are tangled up in his legs. He kicks them off and rolls over with a groan. So much for getting a good nights’ sleep before the meeting tomorrow morning. He reaches for his bedside lamp, trying to feel the small switch in the dark. It takes him a minute, fingers clumsy and sleep-addled, but he finally finds it with a click and squints against the soft, yellow light. He yawns and drags his phone towards him by its charging cable and groans again when he sees the time. 2:37am.

With little desire to return to the stifling sheets, he decides it’s best to just get out of bed and have a glass of water before trying to sleep again. He shuffles out of the bedroom, and as the door clicks behind him, his tired mind peripherally registers that the living room light is still on. But with water being his body’s primary goal, he drowsily continues on to the kitchen and downs a full glass in three big gulps when he gets there. With his mind cleared from the coolness of the water, he realizes that even though the living room light is still on, Shirayuki’s persistent typing is absent.

When he reaches the living room, he finds Shirayuki on the couch, slumped to the side with her lips parted and a quiet snore escaping her with each exhale.  Her laptop is open and teetering dangerously close to the edge of her lap, but the screen has long since shut itself off. There’s still a pencil behind her ear, too.

With as much gentleness as he can muster this late at night, Zen extracts her laptop and moves it over to her desk so it can charge overnight. He removes the pencil from behind her ear and brushes her hair away from her eyes.

“Shirayuki, come to bed.” Her eyes crack open ever so slightly, and she grumbles but does not stir. Zen sighs. Even in sleep—no, especially in sleep—she’s as stubborn as ever.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” She mumbles something unintelligible, but’s all the affirmation he needs. He pushes his arms underneath her knees and shoulders, steels himself, and scoops her up. At first, her head lolls to the side, but then she turns and nuzzles against his chest. He can’t help but smile down at her as he carries her back to the bedroom and slowly places her on top of the sheets.

“Shirayuki, you should change out of your clothes,” he says.

She stirs a bit before slurring, “Don’t wanna. Wanna sleep.”

“If you don’t change now, you’ll regret it in the morning. You know you will.”

At this, Shirayuki groans and pushes herself up off the mattress. She insists he help her take off her clothes, which makes him laugh and blush in equal measure.

It’s only after she is changed and settled under the sheets that he finally lets himself sink into their bed again, mind and body finally relaxed with the knowledge that she’s next to him and already half asleep. He turns off his bedside lamp with a click and lets the rhythm of her breathing lull him back to sleep. Just as the last remains of his consciousness are about to slip away, he feels the delicate press of fingers against his shoulder, the tickle of a whisper against his ear, and the softness of a kiss against his temple.

“Thank you, Zen. I love you.”

[jane-aineien]

Uh

So I kind of went off the rails, this an art inspo blog but fuck it. analysis time. I loved @jackrrabbit’s homeowner’s association so much I had to get it out of my system somehow 😤

Dabi here is far and away the most self-sabotaging sap to ever exist. To him, reader is not only someone he loves, they’re the last remaining embodiment of his past, his childhood long-dead feelings of love, joy and hope for a better life. I’d go so far as to say that Dabi’s dreams aren’t simply dreams, but a future he actually used to imagine when he was still Touya kicking it on the streets with the reader before the LoV.

Dabi has a habit of ignoring his emotional baggage and coping with distractions. He runs away from his abusive home, he leaves the streets (after reader leaves him, I’d like to think) and now he leaves the reader sleeping next to him in exchange for a fantasy version of them. Every single issue he’s encountered, he’s solved by running away, but he can’t bring himself to run away completely this time. Not when the reader symbolizes and reminds him of quite possibly the happiest part of his life. So every night, Dabi chooses to remain in limbo (aka his personal hell)- unable to face his waking problems and unable to abandon them the way he used to. Had he not met the reader again, Dabi probably would have been more than content with his chosen distraction, wreaking havoc w/ the LOV. But meeting reader was a trigger unearthing his long-forgotten, torturous feelings of hope. Because unlike young, impressionable Touya, Dabi now knows that his dream of a domestic suburban life with his first love is wholly unattainable.

“On some level it doesn’t feel right to dream about you when you’re right there next to him, but he can’t help it. Maybe because the person he’s dreaming about isn’t really you—at least, it’s not the version of you sleeping in his bed”

God, my god. To anyone who’s gone through high school English, this is the exact type of stuff Gatsby would say had he actually lived, ended up with Daisy and was 5 years into his scam life. I am not Nick Carrotop, and I do not find this romantic. Heartbreakingly masochistic, maybe :(. This beginning is SO well-written because it reveals Dabi’s guilt about dreaming what he does and daring to enjoy them. You can almost taste the poetic justice of the situation. Dabi backed HIMSELF into the moral corner he is currently stuck in and faces the brunt of his actions, akin to a child holding their favorite toy too tightly, breaking it, and then crying about it instead of trying to fix it.

“You look different here. Healthier. The shadows are gone from under your eyes and your cheeks aren’t as hollow and you’re smiling, although the expression is a little vague—when he wakes up he’ll realize it’s because he can’t really remember what you look like smiling.”

This whole dream sequence hits hard!! Dabi doesn’t just dream about past-reader, or present-reader, he’s created what is a whole nother entity- a version of the reader that never existed and never will. And the funny thing is, he’s also cooked up another, better version of himself, whether he’s aware of it or not. Because let’s be real, the Dabi that manipulated, blackmailed, and kidnapped reader is NOT the same dream-Dabi that cooks dinner, mows the lawn on Sundays and can never refuse his darling wife. Dabi’s dream, once again I’m convinced, is essentially kid-Touya’s future plans that he used to naively daydream about, which explains his recollection of the tiniest, carefully crafted details.

“And you have a raised soil bed, a garden like the one he asked his father to plant in his childhood home once a very long time ago.”

This line BROKE MY HEART! You get a glimpse of child-Dabi and his sweet lil’ mindset, but you’re hit with the realization that he was only able to ask once because he was probably refused strongly enough to never bring it up again.

“This is the kind of thing Dabi concerns himself with when he dreams about you: lawn height and homeowners associations and a yellow that only reminds him of sunlight because you told him it did. That sticks out to him. It’s something you really would’ve said. Back then.”

This is the part that made me start thinking of this dream as a tour of Touya/ kid-Dabi’s imagination- the disconnect between his understanding of suburban life and the pure naivete that went into this utopian world. There’s something so clearly innocent and carefree about these issues and the fact that you can see pessimistic, present-Dabi snapping himself into reality with “back then”? It turns the desolate factor all the way up to 11 because now you can clearly see that Dabi still holds onto the hopes and dreams he made up as a child. While he manages to avoid them during the day, it’s impossible to stop his subconscious from indulging at night.

“Dabi’s always going to take care of his kids. He’s different from his father too, in that way.”

Dabi tries SO HARD to erase traces of Endeavor. In dream world, Dabi erases all the trashy parts of his family -his father’s neglect and unknown hatred of gardening- and opts to paint over those memories with imaginary children and the reader’s supposed love of gardening. And yet, he can’t seem to completely detach himself from his past, as he dreams of a life where he’s still close to Fuyumi, and reminiscences his own role as an older brother. Only in his dream is he able to pick and choose which parts of his past he wants to relive. In other words, this dreams definitely aren’t about reader, but a coping mechanism that developed with the reader as an involuntary main character.

“They take after you too, and every day Dabi’s grateful that unlike him, they didn’t get a goddamn thing from their father. Only their eyes, really, and when he gets past that it doesn’t bother him nearly as much as he thought it would.”

It’s heartbreaking when you think that Dabi used to hate himself because of how much he resembled his father.  Dabi continuously tries desperately hard to smooth over things that remind him of Endeavor in this dream, and this is another example. Here, the cold blue that used to hurt him is now the same blue that looks up at him in wonder.

“And he if asks, he knows you would—you would want more. In his dream, you would want more kids.”

This killed me, because the way it’s worded makes it seem like Dabi, even dream-Dabi, is trying to convince HIMSELF rather than anyone else that the reader would be open to more kids. It’s the repetition, the pure uneasiness the statement starts off with, and finally reaching the conclusion that maybe only dream-reader would say yes just does it for me.  

“He’s gotten used to this over the past few months, the fading images of your easy domestic life together, the memory of the way your laughter sounds slowly sinking into nothing; the aftertaste of pure sugar souring on his tongue, bittersweet.”

Stop, I’m already dead !!! The fact that Dabi still holds onto all of these emotions, and the fact that he’s gotten used to the feeling of everything fading away is the most devastating way to end this :((( You get the impression that these dreams are quite common, most likely beginning right after Dabi realized that living with the reader doesn’t necessarily translate into a resolution of all his unresolved trauma. Because to Dabi, the reader symbolizes happiness and domestic joy. And unfortunately, it seems only the audience comes to the crushing understanding that the reader character is only a broken human and thus leaves Dabi nothing but frustrated, guilty, and lost

[secretshinigami]

Not Alone

Author: @jam-knife (I’m submitting through my main) For: @misas-biggest-fan Pairings/Characters: LxLight Rating/Warnings: Mature. Major characters’ deaths. Mentions of sex (though nothing too explicit, and I kept curse words to a minimum too). Angst, lots of it. Prompt: Light being tailed by L’s ghost Author’s Notes: heyyyyy first of all I LOVED your prompts! I really enjoyed writing this for you, it was a very interesting scenario to explore. I hope you like it!!! Please let me know what you think of it once you finish reading it. Second of all, this fic begins with a scene that was unfortunately cut from the anime (though it wasn’t canon in the manga as far as I know, so it’s not that bad). I don’t know whether or not you’ve watched it, but I’ll leave the link here just in case! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tX1_K-mUH94 Word Count: 12k (approximation)

“You said nothing much to look forward to, Ryuk?”

Light’s words were met only by the rustling sound of leaves being ruffled by a sudden cold breeze, which carried with it the smell of removed earth, moss and death. The dirt stuck to his palms and the fabric of his pants as he stood up. He didn’t even show the empathy it required to rub it off.

“Not really. From now on, I’m going to show you how the new world is built.”

His eyes travelled to the sky, dyed orange and red as dusk fell upon him and his –unusually silent– Shinigami. He didn’t give L’s grave one last glimpse as he turned and left. What was there to see anymore? The rocky cross was nothing more than some artfully carved stone, the body six feet below it just an empty carcass, and the dirt that covered it and clung to his person wasn’t different from any other dirt.

None of it truly represented what L had been. L couldn’t possibly be reduced to or preserved in a graveyard lot. Those symbols were hollow.

L was gone. Forever. Which meant that Light now had green light to do with the world –His world– what he wanted.

That’s when he felt it, for the first time.

A step.

Light froze. That… he must have imagined it. Just in case he glanced over his shoulder, and confirmed there was nobody else there; just Ryuk, hovering half a foot over the paved path. That means he imagined it.

That extra step, as if someone tailing him had synchronized their walking with his own, but their last step was slightly off-key.

No. It was nothing. It had been a long day… a long year actually. But now the war was finally over, and all there was left to do was conquer-

He didn’t manage to conclude that thought before the chilling breeze enveloped him in a personal whirlwind of sorts, seeping into his clothes and attacking his every nerve. It only lasted a moment, but it was more than enough for him to perceive an intention in it. One simple idea. Confrontation.

Light was free. Omnipotent. And L was no more.

That is the plain truth… right?

The second time he noticed it was a few days later. Most of the time he wouldn’t even remember it, but every now and then the extra step would announce itself. Subtle, barely present enough to tickle the back of his head. And it grew worse every time he looked the Task Force members in the eye and manipulated or lied to them.

No, he didn’t feel guilty about L’s death –or about any death that preceded it. To think that the reason why his subconscious invoked a constant sensation of being followed and sneered upon was because of some pathetic remorse was ridiculous. Light Yagami was above all that moral crap humans loved to entertain themselves with. He was the God of a newborn world; he simply did what needed to be done for true justice to prevail.

No matter how many times he told himself this, though, the sensation wouldn’t fade away. But, again, it was just that. A sensation.

Or so it had been, until that night.

He had been working on replicating L’s voice synthesizing program for hours on end. There were no windows on the building’s main room, but he knew it was probably very late by now. Even Ryuk, who didn’t biologically need sleep as the otherworldly being he was, had sprawled himself messily on one of the couches and was snoring to his heart’s content.

Light sighed and went back to work. He remembered how that artificial voice had sounded when L used it against him, and when he lent it to Light so he could contact Namikawa during the Yotsuba period. That’s how he knew he was close to getting it right; going to sleep now would only be a waste of time and concentration.

He tweaked the depth and the vibration here and there, checked it, then went back to correcting it. And finally, he succeeded.

“Hello, one two three, testing…” He spoke into the mic, and beamed when he realized he made it. Yes, this would work.

To make sure it was convincing enough to fool anyone, but mostly just because he was feeling giddy with victory, he tried out some L-ish phrases and worked on his intonation and mood.

“You’re in Japan. And your first victim was… little more than an experiment.”

That was exactly what that man had said… so many months ago. Light could still perfectly recall the smugness dripping off every syllable.

“It won’t be too long now before I am able to sentence you… to death.” He replicated impeccably, the words leaving a sour aftertaste behind as he remembered the rage they had unleashed within him back then.

Light gulped and took a breath before leaning into the mic one more time.

“I am L.”

Are you done playing detective?

Light jumped. The chair rolled beneath him and he landed roughly on the floor, together with the toppled mic and a stack of papers, causing a momentary ruckus. He quickly scrambled to his feet, finding support on the desk behind him as he eyed the room. But there was nothing there.

There was no way. He could have sworn he heard L’s voice –not the digital fake, the real deal– whispering inside his head just now. But it lacked the inconsistency of a memory; it had sounded way too organic. It was nothing like the footstep or the silent vigilance. That… was real.

But it couldn’t be. L was dead –he was absolutely certain of that. He had held his body when it happened. He felt it go numb. Still. He confirmed there was no pulse. Then why… why could he hear him?

Was he going crazy?

Every ounce of rationality in him told him so. But. If that… thing just now was real, then…

“Well… Shinigami exist, don’t they? Literal Gods of Death.” He thought out loud. “So… what would be so weird about ghosts?”

Slowly, as if not to disturb the atmosphere, he picked up the chair and sat back down. Not facing the computer, but the room enveloped in darkness. Nothing happened, but he still raised his knees to his chest and adopted his rival’s trademark position out of instinct.

He was definitely losing it.

“Did I make you mad, L?” Light teased, his lips twisted into a wry smile that lost some of its effect given how shaken he actually felt. Even so, there was no answer. “Nothing to say? Why so shy all of a sudden…”

The room was completely quiet except for Ryuk’s thunderous snores. Light waited for a whole minute, and then two more. There were no words… but that feeling of something lingering remained.

“You said yourself I’d do a great job succeeding you.” He tried out, although he was probably just trailing off. “But we both know you wanted to test me, to see if I gave you a response worthy of Kira. You weren’t expecting to actually see it unfold, were you. Does it irritate you? Do you want to hurt me?”

He was about to give up and go back to work when the quiet, familiar chuckle resonated inside him, sending shivers down his spine.

That’s rich coming from the man responsible for my death.

Light’s heart skipped a beat… and his smile grew darker. So it was really him. He wasn’t crazy, or hallucinating. L was haunting him.

“So what? Have you come to take revenge? Talk about a sore loser.”

That, right there, is where you are wrong, dear. You think you’ve already won, but the war is far from over.

He frowned. Even dead, L continued to be as smug as ever. Had it always been this annoying? Moreover, how come L could say it wasn’t over? What else was there left to do? Who else left to defeat?

“What do you mean? I killed you. Everyone left believes in my innocence and supports me as the new L. I’ve acquired the ultimate power. I can direct the police force as L while enchanting the general public as Kira. There’s nothing and nobody else standing on my way to absolute victory.”

Only silence followed his statements. Even more exasperated, he declared:

“You are already dead, L. You’re dead.”

He waited, but nothing else came from L that night.

That, of course, didn’t mean he was gone for good.

Light continued to hear the extra step following him from room to room. That he learned to ignore over time, since it’s easier for the brain to disregard what it gets used to perceiving –just like not seeing your own nose in front of you all the time unless you actively think about it.

What always caught Light off-guard, even though it had become an everyday thing, was when L spoke to him. Light would normally be able to feel when L was laughing at him, or when something he did made the ghost mad. But every time L spoke actual words, they echoed inside Light’s head and his skin tickled.

It was icky. Plus, talking to L always got Light on his nerves. Even after death, the detective had found a purpose for his existence in unnerving Light. And even that was remarkably ordinary and unsurprising compared to the fact that Light somehow managed to put up with it for over four years.

Four years of snarky remarks over his shoulder. Four years of effort dedicated to ignoring that voice and pretending he didn’t hear it, only for L to slip into his dreams where he couldn’t escape him.

Not all was bad, though. He had already experienced having L study his every move, follow him from room to room… back when they were handcuffed they even had to sleep in the same bed and take showers together. Compared to that, the current situation was not so bad. The lack of chains was an improvement, he no longer had to hide his identity as a mass murderer, and since he already had several years worth of experience with talking to entities nobody else could see, concealing L’s presence to the Task Force wasn’t too hard a task.

Ryuk would sometimes eye him like he had gone insane, but Light had no interest in explaining himself to a Shinigami. He knew what Ryuk thought of death: after passing away, the soul goes to the 無(Mu). The Nothingness. According to that, L’s existence as a ghost should be impossible. But here he was regardless.

L didn’t just talk. Light came to realize he was a great listener too. Maybe ‘realize’ was not the right word; more like… rediscover. Except that back when the man was alive, Light was convinced the only reason why he listened to anything he had to say was because he was desperately trying to blame him for something, even though Light didn’t have memories of being Kira back then.

The fact that L listened to him, now that everything was out in the open and what couldn’t be undone had been done, was… nice? That was not quite it.

Sometimes they’d just debate for hours about justice, life and other philosophical matters; sometimes Light would get engrossed in explaining detail by detail each and every plan he executed against L while the ghost laughed and mockingly praised his ingenuity. Sometimes Light felt so alone he crawled out of the bed he shared with Misa and went to the living room, just to sit down in the dark and talk nonsense to that invisible presence.

Meanwhile, time flew by and the world mutated. Kira had become the universal symbol of justice with little to no opposition from any government or social movement, and the mighty detective that once confronted him had slowly faded away, until people grew to remember him as one of many who rebelled against God and obviously failed.

Ghost L found this hilarious at best, and revolting at worst.

And even though the supernatural factor of their whole relationship also extended to how annoying the ghost could get, Light still got used to him not ever really leaving. Slowly, too gradually to pinpoint when, the rage of an imperfect victory was subdued by the solace of keeping the one person that understood.

Until Sayu was kidnapped by Mello. And that changed everything.

There were more opponents. L would call them ‘successors’. The words that were spoken by the ghost over four years ago began to make sense: the war was far from over. With the rise of Mello and Near, Light felt like he was facing his old rival all over again, except this time everything was messier, and the stakes higher.

They had to give away the Death Note to save Sayu’s life. Light did everything that was at hand to stop them from taking it… but they lost the missile. A defeat of that magnitude… It was something he hadn’t experienced in years. It was even worse than when L publicly humiliated him with his live broadcast.

It reminded him of that time. The rain fell relentlessly. He sat, soaked, and let L massage his feet while those huge, merciless yet peaceful eyes pierced him with the truth that the detective had never, not even for a second, swallowed his bluffs. And it made Light feel stupid and desperate and small. That was how he felt now.

The wrath, the impotence, the absolute disgust it all produced were so intense he did nothing but sit on his chair, staring at the ceiling. Misa approached with a cool drink, probably trying to soothe him, but he lacked the energy and the interest to pretend he gave a fuck, so he simply slapped it off her hands and to the floor.

Why was everyone so useless? Why was he so useless?!

Those two kids… he hated them for getting in his way. And he hated L, for being related to them.

Light stormed out of the room and into the bathroom, the door finding its frame with a bang. He wanted to yell. He wanted to break something. With no means to release his rage, he began briskly ripping his clothes off and turned on the shower. Steam immediately filled the room from floor to ceiling; the heat was suffocating even without exposing himself to the water and that, somehow, was relaxing.

You know, that was a very rude thing to do.

Light growled. Not now. He couldn’t handle L as he was now.

“Nobody asked for your bloody opinion.”

I knew you had some anger management issues, but I never would’ve thought you’d take it out on the only person in your life who’s ever offered you comfort and her unconditional support-

“What do you care, L!” He swirled around, yelling at the empty bathroom. He knew he wouldn’t find the man there when he turned, but screaming at the shapes in the steam was easier. “For someone who isn’t even alive you do have a lot to say. It’s pretty hard to give a shit about what you think when you’re never useful and you’re not even here.”

What do you expect me to do, then?

“I don’t know! How about you face me for once instead of hiding like a coward? Or maybe you could just disappear! Why are you even here?!”

He was being irrational, he knew it. And he could only imagine what Misa or Ryuk would think of all this if they walked in on him, screaming at the air. But he didn’t care if he didn’t make sense; he was too angry, and the only one he wanted to take it out on was L. Because it was his fault that people continued to sabotage his perfect plans. If L hadn’t shown up… everything would have been easier.

Do you really want me to leave?

“Yes.” He answered, without a shade of a doubt. “That’s the only thing I’ve wanted ever since you first threatened to sentence me to death. I thought you picked that up when I held you in my arms and watched you die with a smile on my face. Or didn’t you see me laughing at your grave?”

I did.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for?”

A moment of silence followed. Then, hesitantly…

I can’t.

What?

“Why?” Light asked, reaching the limits of his patience.

You think that if I knew I’d still be here? Don’t flatter yourself. The voice answered dryly. It was irritating, but… somewhere deep inside those words he could identify an edge of frustration and… pain. There is something that draws me towards you. Like there’s something I need to do, and it won’t let me go until I do it. But whatever that is I have no idea.

Light huffed, holding his head in his hands.

“Why couldn’t you just die normally…”

I ask myself the same thing every day.

He breathed out. So there was no way to get rid of L as it was. No chance of freedom in the near future. Well, at least he could vent out a bit. Resigned, he finished stripping and stepped into the shower.

He reached out to take the soap, and froze. The presence… L’s ghost was usually respectful of his personal space but now, it had followed him into the shower.

“What are you doing?” Light asked cautiously, his face beat red and not because of the heat. He didn’t want L in his shower, not even for old times’ sake.

You must hate my guts. Not that I have any anymore.

“Isn’t that obvious?” He retorted, not knowing when the atmosphere got so dense or why he felt uneasy about it.

I guess. Still, I never thought of our altercation as something personal.

“We literally tried to get the other killed for months, L. I’d say it was pretty personal.” Light frowned, earning himself a giggle from L.

Fine, I guess you’re right. However, I don’t think I hate you now. I hate what you did. What you still insist on doing. But I don’t hate you, even though it doesn’t really make any sense.

He didn’t answer. He had no words worth speaking, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do with them.

I’m sorry. I wish I could disappear just as much as you do.

“It’s okay. I… don’t mind having someone to talk to either.” He admitted through gritted teeth.

But, about facing you… I think I might be able to do that much.

What… what was he talking about? Light stayed put as water dripped down his body, feeling the steam behind him shift and change, then settle. His skin tickled with even more intensity than it did before, and for a whole five seconds, he seriously considered running off without turning around to see. But, of course, he didn’t. The temptation was too great to ignore.

When he turned around, every nerve end alert in case he had to fight –even though he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight a ghost–, he saw it. A translucent figure, its edges blurring into the steam…

“L…”

The commotion of seeing his face again, his eyes, his knowing expression after so many years was so strong Light stumbled back, and found stability against the dripping tiled wall. L’s pale lips curved into a small smile.

“Better?”

Light gulped. Even his voice sounded more corporeal, now that it was coming out of a mouth and not echoing inside his head. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and reached out to touch him. L, understanding his cautious curiosity, didn’t move.

Light went for the chest, over the point where he felt that last dying throb before L’s heart failed permanently. But when he got close enough to touch, his fingers simply trespassed the specter. Energy tickled like electricity all over his hand and up his forearm. He pulled out in shock, and the steam regrouped around the hole he left behind.

“Could you feel that?” He blurted out before thinking.

“Not at all.” The man answered, calmly even though he was also eyeing his own shape with devouring interest. This was new for him too. It was the first time in over four years that he tried out a physical shape.

Wide translucent eyes beamed when a new idea crossed his mind. L tossed his hand against the shampoo rack, but it didn’t even react. It didn’t show the slightest disturbance. That new discovery had L bedazzled. Meanwhile, Light couldn’t stop staring at him, still not quite grasping that this was real. That he could see L again, just the way he was when he lived. His expressions were even livelier than they were back then, now that he was dead and didn’t need to be cautious with his thoughts.

“Can others see you?”

“I don’t know yet. But given how nobody could hear or perceive me before except for you, I wouldn’t think so.”

“Then, from now on, can you stay like this? Visible I mean.”

L’s eyes narrowed, his features shifting with amusement, and Light looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Did you miss me that much? I’ve always been here though.” He teased. Light thought he’d die of mortification.

“Shut up. I just hate hearing you speak inside my head. It feels icky.”

“Alright then.” The smirk grew meaner.

“Also, step out of my shower. This is already weird enough as it is.”

L’s laugh in response to that couldn’t have been more annoying.

L had been right… for the most part. No other person or living being could see him hovering around Light; they wouldn’t react at all to the late detective’s presence as long as he avoided being trespassed by them.

But coming to realize Ryuk could see and hear him was amusing. For L at least, who could also now perceive the God of Death and seized the opportunity to suffocate the otherworldly being with questions until Ryuk lay on the floor, exhausted. Ryuk, too, seemed flabbergasted to find out ghosts actually existed, and he even taught L how to perfect his manifestation technique, until the specter managed to muster an almost solid-looking consistency he could acquire or shed at will.

Meanwhile, Light felt like his temper was gradually being gnawed at. Having both entities annoying him separately had been irritating enough, but he simply couldn’t have imagined how much worse it would get when they did so together.

“And then he told me he wouldn’t give me any more apples unless I found all the cameras!” Ryuk whined. “Even though he knew of my terribly painful withdrawal symptoms. And then I am the monster…”

“How awful.” L shook his phantasmagoric head in exaggerated disapproval. “Oh Light dear, what a cruel, terrible Master you are.”

“You said it! Heh-heh.” The Shinigami barked in agreement.

That was it. He wasn’t taking it anymore.

Light groaned, tossed the earphones away, snatched a pencil holder from the desk’s top and unchained a vicious rain of pens and pencils against the source of his irritation. L and Ryuk simply sat, amused, and watched the items as they trespassed their intangible forms.

“For the love of everything good in this world and the next, can you both just shut up for a goddamn minute?!”

“Anger management, remember?”

Exasperated, Light simply growled and went back to work.

“Ryuk, go back to my father before the rest begin wondering where you went. We’ll be ambushing Mello’s headquarters in a few hours. I need you to be there so he’ll do the deal of the eyes with you.”

“Heh-heh. Sending others to accept deals you’d spit on yourself.” Ryuk chuckled grimly, his eyes flashing bright red for a moment. “Alright! Let’s catch up later, L.”

L nodded at the Shinigami before it disappeared through the wall. He then came hovering to where Light was and sat –or rather landed– on the desk, facing him.

“So the reason why you forfeited the ownership of the Death Note is not only passing the trouble of handing over half of your remaining lifespan to someone else, but also avoid your father realizing you are a Note owner yourself when he comes back. Am I right, Light?”

“It was the only way.” Light shrugged it off, not quite grasping why L found that little trick so interesting. “How can I hope to rule the New World if I die young? I’m not going to risk my life on the frontline, let alone give my years away.”

“But your own father’s years are alright to sell.”

Light didn’t answer.

“You don’t care at all, do you. You’re straight up throwing him to the wolves. He could be shot to death in there and even if he does survive, he won’t have much of a life ahead of him, will he?”

“Enough.” He mumbled, but L didn’t stop.

“You know it. You know they wholeheartedly believe in that 13-days rule you made up. You know that lie is the only alibi in your hands that’s keeping Aizawa and the rest at bay. Which means… that even if tonight works out how you want it to and Mello is killed by your dad, then you’ll have to murder him in two weeks for your plan not to crumble-”

“That’s enough.” This time his voice came out firmly, and the ghost fell silent. “I’m just doing what needs to be done, L. I thought you of all people would understand that, after you confined and tortured Misa and me for days and even forced my dad to pretend to shoot me.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone. We are not the same-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Light cut him, every muscle in his body tense. His stare was hard, unyielding, when it locked with L’s. “You were perfectly willing to let a criminal use the Death Note to prove the 13-days rule was false. You admitted yourself that you were expecting me, Kira, to instantly kill my dad if he tried to shoot me, because you knew damn well I’d put my own life before his. His death was no more than a calculated risk to you. In fact, in your head, it was the most probable outcome.”

The detective fretted, and Light grinned maliciously. He hit home.

“See? We both do whatever it takes to get what we want. You’re not different from me. You’re not better than me. So, instead of pretending to be surprised by my methods, how about you leave me alone so I can work on getting my Death Note back?”

The silence that followed was smothering. Painfully so. L was no longer looking back at him, but staring through the window. He looked offended mostly, but also guilty. His expression was so open and so sincerely aching Light blinked. So this was how L truly felt about the decisions he took, back when he was alive.

“Fine.” The ghost muttered finally, as his form dissolved in the air and disappeared.

For a moment that sight filled him with pure dread, but then he realized, as his heartbeat settled down, that he could still feel L’s presence coating him. He wasn’t really gone, he had just temporarily left his visible expression.

Good. Light didn’t feel strong or stable enough to face him right now.

A few hours later, Soichiro Yagami died in a hospital bed, relieved to know his son wasn’t a mass murderer.

After returning the Death Note to its rightful owner –a Shinigami that called itself Sidoh– all the Task Force had left to do was wipe their tears away and wrap it up. The trip back to headquarters was silent. Light appreciated that everyone was too shook and devastated about his dad’s death to talk about it.

Once alone in his room, he was free to be himself again.

He began calmly taking his clothes off and getting ready for bed, but before he could invoke some self control, he was already screaming and punching a pillow while tears rolled down his face.

This had been his father’s fault. If he hadn’t been weak… if he had killed Mello instead of hesitating…!

“Why did you let yourself get killed, idiot?!” Light yelled, his throat aching. His hands, which were clutching the pillow with violence, trembled vehemently as his crying echoed through the room and his tears fell, abundantly and showing no signs of stopping. “You didn’t even get rid of him! Why?! You weren’t supposed to die! Y-You… you weren’t supposed to…”

A sob shook his whole body on its way out, and he collapsed on bed, his face buried in the wet pillow. Only soft whimpering could be heard.

Later, he felt the air shift, and electricity tickled him in the leg.

“I thought you were counting on his death.”

Light’s face was swollen from crying when he lifted it from the pillow to look at L’s figure, sitting next to him in the dark with his hand on Light’s thigh. The touch held no weight or warmth, nothing quite organic; just a tingle.

“He was destined to die.” He mumbled weakly as his gaze wandered to the opposite wall. “It’s as you said. Either tonight or within two weeks, he had to. What’s more pathetic is that he only lived for a few hours after doing the deal… which means… that even if he hadn’t done it, he didn’t have much time left in his clock to begin with. He would’ve passed away naturally by tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Why are you crying, then?” L inquired softly, as his hand caressed up and down Light’s leg. “Because you couldn’t see Mello dead?”

Were other the context Light would’ve found the sparkly sensation bothersome –even embarrassing. He didn’t want to reach the level of feebleness that made him deserve L’s consolations. But that was not the case. The detective’s almost inexistent touch was comforting. Light closed his eyes, trying to remember what the real thing felt like, while fighting the devastating pang L’s question induced in him.

“My father’s death was inevitable. I know I did what I had to do. Still… that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead. In an ideal setting, Aizawa, Ide or even Matsuda would’ve taken it upon themselves to do the deal and kill Mello.”

He sat up, feeling the warmth building behind his eyes as new tears accumulated.

“Then… I could’ve killed any of them easily. But he just had to be… so freaking moral. He had to sacrifice himself… why? Nobody would’ve judged him if he had let someone else do it, then why?! It was that same attitude that got him shot in the end!”

Furious, he wiped the tears away before they overflowed. It was the truth. Even when his father died a somewhat happy death, he would’ve preferred it had been anyone else in his place. Still…

Light’s breathing settled, and he looked L in the eyes with determination.

“However, when he stood with Mello in that room, and when the building exploded and all the cameras went blank… and even as he lay there dying… all I could think of was ‘kill Mello. Kill him for me. Don’t leave without taking him down with you’.”

The pain of actually losing his dad came a while after, and even then it had been tainted with frustration and resentment. He wanted Mello dead. That, together with retrieving the Death Note, had been the whole point of the mission, and he had failed because his father chose the worst possible scenario to be humanitarian.

Light hated the feeling. He lost, even though he did nothing wrong. He hated not having control over his own battles. He hated how his father had chosen to die without revenge. He hated Mello for being alive out there somewhere.

“Even if it had been someone else in his place, I know your methods well enough by now to know you won’t be able to hide your true self forever.” L placed a finger on his chin. Even though the gesture wasn’t useful in practice since he simply trespassed it, Light still raised his head to look at him “Eventually, you’ll be wiping all that is left of the Task Force. And then it won’t matter anymore that your dad died today.”

Yes. L was right. Light… would have killed Soichiro eventually. It was only natural to take that course of action. And Light would bite his tongue and choke on it before letting himself hesitate on that matter. L’s eyes as they regarded him were incredibly sad, but not surprised.

“Do you find me disgusting, L?” He asked, a wry smile taking over his lips even though he was terrified of the answer he’d get. The ghost shook his head.

“No, Light.” An incorporeal hand brushed over his cheekbone. He closed his eyes and leaned into the tingle. “I’m just trying to decipher whether you’re a remorseless psychopath faking the pain you show, or if you’re actually acting remorseless to hide how much you’ve wounded yourself. Either way… I find you pitiful.”

And Light wanted to be angry. He tried his best to feel rage, indignation… even shame. But he couldn’t find it in himself. He was empty.

“Maybe… you’re both.”

“Tell me, Light. Did Misa approve of this plan?”

“Shut up.” He scowled, fixing his tie in front of the mirror.

Of course the answer was no. If Misa ever found out about this then she would gouge out both his and Takada’s guts. Giving up her Death Note and passing it to Mikami didn’t really make her any less lethal.

“I thought so. Especially by the way you whispered sweet nothings into the phone earlier.”

“Look, L.” Light turned around to face the late detective. L had become so good at expressing a physical shape that, if it weren’t for the blur at the edges when he moved, Light could’ve believed he was actually standing there in flesh and bone. “Whatever I choose to do with my love life is not your business, especially if it has something to do with my plans as Kira.”

L narrowed his eyes. Whether or not he was judging Light was hard to say.

“You have no moral structure whatsoever, do you?”

“As previously established, you don’t have much of that either-”

“I know.” The ghost cut him, raising a hand. “And I admit I wouldn’t hesitate to do the exact same thing you’re about to do to gain a benefit, as you already know.” At that, Light looked away. The room was too dark for his blush to be discernible. “Still, your shamelessness continues to amaze me.”

He chuckled ironically, staring the specter down as if it had just dared him to do it.

“Aizawa will come to install the cameras and mics now. Once he begins, I’ll have a perfect excuse to ignore you for the next few hours.” Light opened the box on top of the coffee table and began pulling out wires. He then halted, a meditative twinkle in his eyes, and addressed L. “Actually, could you disappear? I don’t want to see you through the corner of my eye when I-”

“You know that I’ll still be here even if you can’t see me, right?”

“Ah, yes. I forgot you’re a prime voyeur.”

“Trust me; this is about the last place in the world I’d like to be in.” The detective retorted, and for some reason his voice had an irritated edge to it.

“I guess we both have to compromise, then. As long as you stay invisible and keep yourself from talking inside my head until I’m done here, I’ll make sure not to kick your ass in Hell.” Light satirically extended a hand to him. “Deal?”

L simply stared him back, scorn invading his whole expression, before disappearing. Light could feel he was mad –uncharacteristically so. Yes, Light had seen him in a foul mood many times, while they lived chained to each other and they both had to listen to Matsuda speak.

But whatever got him so on edge about tonight, Light had no idea.

In fact, L’s mood grew worse and worse as the night progressed. He didn’t notice it at first; It became a constant buzz in the back of his head after Light looked Takada in the eyes and said ‘I missed you’, so he managed to ignore it quite well. However, by the time all mics and cameras were disconnected, he realized L was on the verge of bursting.

Lately, L’s thoughts had grown more tangible, together with his physical shape. So much so they sometimes became suffocating. When L would forfeit his form and settle back inside his head, Light often had a hard time differentiating their mixed feelings.

In life, L had always been incredibly skilled in the art of preserving a cool semblance. Even when he had been visibly annoyed or angry, the way he carried himself always sold the idea that the matter in hand was no more than just a mild inconvenience for him.

“Listen, Kiyomi. I am the real Kira.”

Light would’ve never expected to come face to face with that bubbling rage.

Takada gasped in surprise.

“That’s right. I’m Kira.” He repeated, mostly to confirm she had heard him right, but also to assure himself against L’s violent, thundering emotions. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Takada didn’t respond immediately, so Light took the chance to raise the phone to his ear and wrap up the conversation with Mikami. “Listen. I won’t allow you to ask Kiyomi who I am; you don’t need to know my identity.”

“Yes. I’ll leave the rest to you, God.”

Bastard.

Light shook. It had been a while since he had last heard L’s voice inside his head. Didn’t he explicitly tell him not to do that?! He’d make sure to devote the rest of his life to researching a way to kill a ghost again. He hung up the phone and turned around to address Kiyomi, as he stifled down his irritation.

“Do you understand? I am Kira. The man who was on the phone, is one of my followers who I’ve shared my power with.”

Takada’s eyes lit up.

“I… I can’t believe it’s you!” She whispered in awe. “You are the only man I’ve ever really admired. To be honest… the only man I’ve ever felt a connection with.” L growled. “And now, to find out you’re Kira… it’s incredible.”

As planned, Light had Takada curled around his finger in no time. He would’ve been able to fully enjoy the sweet taste of victory if it weren’t for L’s sour invasion. Oh, but he wasn’t about to let that bloody ghost spoil his mood. Was he pissed off now? Then he was about to become completely infuriated.

Light stepped closer and willfully lowered his voice to a deep whisper as he cupped Takada’s cheek in his hand.

“Please… join me, Kiyomi. And you will be the goddess of the New World.”

“Light…” She immediately pulled him into an embrace he didn’t fail to return.

He smirked over her shoulder –he had her right where he wanted her… and she was about to have him right where she wanted him too.

When Light leaned down to kiss her, L’s wrath pulsed through him.

Two and a half hours later, Light finished doing his tie, put his coat on and exited the room. Takada had already left –it was best for both that they weren’t seen leaving the hotel together.

Everything was working out smoothly. He now had a connection to Mikami through her, which would make everything easier from now on. The annihilation of the whole Task Force, together with the SPK and Near were visible in the horizon. In a matter of days, there would be no one left in his way. He’d be the only, unquestioned God of his own New World.

Confident with his secured victory, Light pulled the phone out.

“Light! Are you okay?” Matsuda exclaimed. Of course they were worried, after losing all connection with him for over two hours.

“Yeah… Kiyomi was able to work things out with Kira. I decided that from now on, I’m gonna pretend to be dating her.” L, who had fallen unusually quiet for a while now, suddenly shifted uncomfortably inside of him. He smirked. “We might be able to find Kira that way.”

“Alright, if you say so…” Matsuda answered, and for the musicality in his voice it was clear to everyone that a) he had serious doubts Light was just pretending and b) he knew Light simply hadn’t spent the last two hours with Takada playing Monopoly.

Right after that, a smack could be heard. Matsuda whined out loud as Aizawa scolded him. Light rolled his eyes and hung up.

So you actually went and did it.

He stopped on his tracks, overwhelmed by how the voice reverberated inside him. He growled in annoyance.

“I told you not to do that!”

As an answer to his protest, L materialized in front of him. All the ire he had felt bubbling inside him left. It shook him to realize that L had turned back to his old –living– habits. The expression in his face was barely a washed-down version of the consuming wrath Light now knew inhabited him.

“Still manipulating women and using sex to get what you want, uh?”

“You say it like that’s the worst thing I’ve done.”

“Oh, no. Of course it isn’t.” L shook his head. When he narrowed his eyes, the gaze he bore was venomous. “When are you gonna kill her, then?”

Light gulped, glaring at him. He wanted to be surprised that L brought that up, but he couldn’t; he knew how vicious he could get. The ghost smiled back at him, even though the gesture held no warmth, sympathy or bliss whatsoever. It was a dry smile, filled to the brim with a wish to hurt.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Attachment and intimacy are alright as long as you can get something from it. As soon as the other person becomes a hindrance you dispose of them.” L spat. “So? How long until you murder Takada too?”

“I hate you, you know.” Light hissed. “I hate how you always talk like you know everything about everyone. I hate how hypocritical you are, going around making moral statements about other people when you were just as bad or even worse. And I hate how you are convinced that everything has to be about you!”

The ghost took a step back, and Light seized the opportunity to push further. They had already pulled each other down on the mud; they might as well fight.

“Maybe I just like sleeping with Takada. But… oh? Does that irritate you?” One look at the detective’s face told him he had hit the nail’s head. “Does it drive you crazy, that it’s her and not you?”

“This is nonsense. Stop talking before you humiliate yourself.” L growled, earning himself a barking laugh from the other.

“Come on. I felt it. I felt how your blood boiled when she embraced me. Admit it.” The ghost stood there, and said nothing. Suddenly intoxicated with rage and something close to desperation, Light walked up to him and reached out to grab his arm. He grabbed nothing. “Admit you’re jealous.”

“How…” for the first time ever, the specter’s voice came out so terrifyingly low it sent chills down his spine. “… am I supposed to be jealous, when we both know you’re just using her? We both know she’ll soon be dead meat. She isn’t getting anything I haven’t gotten already.”

Light shivered, unable to talk through the knot in his throat.

 “You can’t fool me, Light. I see everything, remember? Goddess of the New World… How many times have you used that trick on Misa this month?”

“Shut up.” The words were no more than a tremulous whisper. It was mortifying.

“Then how about this very week?” L pressed, and even though Light couldn’t feel a breath meet his face, he still stepped back, looking hurt. When he replied, his words were calm with bitterness.

“So now we’re pretending you’re not the same?”

It happened often during the lapse of time Light had to cope with L cuffed to his wrist and without his memories of the Death Note. He’d constantly be shaken awake by nightmares that didn’t seem his own. Sometimes the startling would be soft enough to simply wake him up, and he could just roll over and go back to sleep without disturbing L. And sometimes, like that time, he’d physically jump on bed and find himself drenched in cold sweat.

He sat up and looked to his left –by his side, L slept soundly, curled into a ball with his knees to his chest, the half of his face that wasn’t buried in the pillow giving off an expression of peace.

Light sighed deeply as he wiped sweat off his face and neck. He wouldn’t mind being able to lock himself up in the toilet, but handcuffs. He directed his energy into staying still and steadying his breath instead.

“Another nightmare?”

Light blinked. So L wasn’t even half as asleep as he pretended to. He looked at him from below, his face still half-buried in his pillow. It was way too adorable –Light looked away.

“Yes.” The detective sat up too, the sheets sliding down his torso.

“What was it about?”

“I… stood on top of a very tall building.” He narrated, his gaze lost somewhere in the shadows that inhabited the room. “Below, at ground level, people were screaming. I wanted to look down to see what was happening to them, but I was too afraid. Then, from behind… a tall massive shadow hovered over me. It’s silhouette wasn’t that of a human. The thing laughed; that wasn’t human either. I tried to look over my shoulder, and was pushed off the building. I fell. The screaming grew closer…. and I woke up.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

“Is that all?” L inquired quietly. A crease took shape between Light’s brows, and he fixed his stare on his lap.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not stupid enough to not be able to deduce what you think my dream represents. But, Ryuzaki…” He formed fists with his fingers to keep them from fidgeting, and raised his eyes to L’s. “I can’t be… I don’t remember ever doing any of that. And I know. I know people can do the unspeakable when pushed to the limit, but I’d never kill on my own free will.”

“Light…” L hesitated, and then crawled across the bed to reach out and grab one of the towels from a nearby hanger. When he crawled back, he pressed it to Light’s face. “There is a chance Kira somehow possessed you during that period. In that case, you wouldn’t have been in control of your own actions.”

His tone was soft, but it wasn’t enough to conceal his real thoughts. Light smiled sadly as L wiped the sweat off his neck.

“But you don’t think I was possessed.” He spoke the truth nobody wanted to acknowledge. L stopped drying him. “You’re certain I was the original Kira. Even now, you must be wondering whether I’ve been bluffing ever since I was inside that cell. You’re probably thinking all this is just part of an act; some greater scheme on my behalf.”

The detective didn’t respond immediately. They looked at each other for several seconds; when he did, his words were grave with the amount of seriousness the statement deserved.

“I am.”

Light nodded. He didn’t really blame L for thinking that. He, too, was slowly getting more and more obsessed with the idea that he might have been, indeed, Kira. Yes, the justice system was flawed. But if he had had Kira’s power, would he had actually used it like Kira did?

“I understand.” He replied. “You’re just doing your job. And I want to help however I want. I want to reach the bottom of this, and cleanse my name. It’s just…” Light sighed and scratched his head. Saying it was much more awkward than he had anticipated. “I really wish it could have been different.”

“What?”

“My relationship with you.”

His heart was beating like crazy, but he had already begun talking. The rest gurgled out and he couldn’t restrain it.

“I wish I could’ve stood on equal ground with you when I met you; with me being a detective, not the prime suspect for the greatest mass murder of the decade. I wish I could’ve gotten to know you, without all the games and the lies. We could’ve held conversations that didn’t feel like interrogations. You’re very smart, and determined.” His face was burning up now, but he kept on talking. “Even though that shouldn’t be good, considering you suspect me… I admire that a lot.”

Their eyes locked, and Light’s stomach turned.

“I admire you.”

For a long while, L didn’t move or react at all; instead of widening eyes or abrupt exclamations, that was how the mighty detective processed shock. It was pretty embarrassing for Light, though. The blush crept to his ears and neck, and he was about to roll over and pretend none of that ever happened, when L cleared his throat. A soft, pink shade took over his pointy cheekbones.

“You admire me.” He reiterated, as if not completely believing it. Light would’ve found it funny had he not been focused in his racing pulse. He nodded… and L gulped. The detective raised a hand and brushed a strand of brunet hair away from his eyes. “Do you only admire me?”

“I…”

“How else do you feel about me?” His finger curled around Light’s ear. His voice was soft, but deep. “Tell me.”

“Not all is good.” He admitted, too distracted by the touch to watch his words. “Sometimes I hate you. So much I want to punch you-”

“Yes, you have done that.” That made him laugh.

“Yeah… it’s because I hate it when you prod me for a confession I can’t give you. And when you say things like ‘it’s pointless to keep on trying’, when my name is in as much of a stake as your title, and when you’ve already done too much to me to just dismiss it like that. I hate being reminded that you only see me as a potential murderer; that you were lying when you said we were friends… And I hate being unable to accept your kindness without thinking you’re playing with me, because I-”

Crap. That was close. He barely managed to bite his tongue before he spurted something dangerous. But L, being L, simply wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. The detective scooted closer –their legs were touching, and they were breathing the same air. Light’s heart fluttered. L’s fingers on his cheek were cold compared to the flushed skin beneath.

“Because?” L whispered, and Light’s gaze fell on his lips, fascinated by their shape, the cadence with which they moved, their invisible, indescribable allure.

Don’t make me say it if you already know. That was what he would have liked to say, but he couldn’t speak. He barely had a moment to process what was happening and take a breath before L closed the distance between them and delicately sealed their lips together.

Light held his breath and sat, static, as his mind was filled with the subtle, tingling sensation of L’s mouth caressing his. That alone was enough to make his heart pound hard against his ribcage. It was a soft kiss; plush, barely more substantial than the brush of a finger. When the man pulled away –only one inch, just enough to end the contact–, their lips separated with a quiet pop.

Light’s whole body was tingling, and he had to forcefully stifle down the urge to tremble that was building steadily in the pit of his stomach. He breathed out, and in, and out; shallowly. He didn’t want to risk inhaling any more of L’s scent.

He should have backed off. Gone back to sleep and pretended that never happened. It would have been wiser. Instead, he remained still and did not oppose L’s movements when the detective cupped his nape and angled his face into another kiss.

It was a deeper one this time, given how their mouths were briefly open. Moisture quickly built up over his upper lip as he felt L’s lower lip seductively pressing against his teeth. Light closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Swiftly, without letting the chance slip by, the man expertly locked their jaws together and entered Light’s warm mouth with his tongue.

A soft gasp that escaped him and coated L’s lips, and then transformed into a barely audible whine. It was inevitable. He couldn’t fight the trembling anymore. He felt feverish all over. Touch-starved and about to burst. His tongue tingled when L’s caressed it, and it filled him with desire and a deep-rooted desperation. He changed his angle to reciprocate the man’s movements, their lips now moving in unison as they sank deeper into each other.

Nobody had ever… not like this. Misa’s kisses weren’t necessarily bad, but they were always messy and indelicate-

L’s free hand began travelling up his thigh, and the spasm that triggered on the muscles of his leg was so powerful Light jolted backwards, and the trance was broken. Out of breath, he searched the detective’s face, and looked away when he realized he could only focus on the blush in his cheeks, the intensity of his gaze and the moist spot on his lower lip.

“Ryuzaki-”

“What’s wrong, Light?”

He bit his lip. L’s voice was still deep, but it was gradually acquiring a sharp edge. Now more than ever, he knew he shouldn’t have allowed that to happen. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What about Misa? Even if she never finds out…”

He shyly searched the man’s face again. L held still for a moment, as he considered his words. Slowly, he seemed to assimilate them. He nodded, and cupped Light’s face again.

“Then… you can hold me accountable for it.” L whispered, and dived back in. That time their mouths locked together even more naturally, and although Light’s whole body was brimming with the urge to give in to the kiss, he still couldn’t brush off the feeling that it was wrong.

Disrespecting Misa, playing with her feelings for him… he wasn’t like that. And the fact that he had to instruct himself to feel guilty about it only brought him self-disgust. He turned his face to the side, and L’s lips slid away from his. The detective didn’t waste over a mere second to understand that this –whatever it was– would not drag any longer.

“Could it be that you were pretending to be interested in me?” He inquired.

Light flinched. His words stung more than he could’ve predicted.

“Do you think I’d do that? You know what, don’t answer. Either way, this… it’s not fair on Misa. I told you I would never use a woman’s feelings to my advantage, so don’t make me betray myself-”

“You don’t love her.” Light gulped. “You don’t even know why you are with her, do you.” L’s gaze grew harder as he went from appreciating Light to analyzing him; a shift Light himself was all too familiar with. “You forgot… together with everything else-”

“That’s enough.” He cut him, his voice coming out firmer than he had expected, and brushed L’s hands off his face. “I’m not about to believe I am a murderer. And Misa isn’t either. I’m not what you think I am, Ryuzaki.”

That being said, Light rolled over and pulled the covers over himself, signaling the end of the conversation. What they just did… it was better off forgotten. As things were now, stubbornly trying to follow that path would only bring pain, regardless of Light turning out to be Kira or not, and regardless of his feelings for Misa and the man. Which didn’t necessarily mean that Light wasn’t already aching over it, but he’d never admit to it.

After a good five minutes of complete stillness, L finally tucked himself in bed, he too giving his back to Light, and before drifting to sleep he murmured:

“If it’s worth something, I really hope you weren’t.”

Yes. The memory of that night’s events, no matter how long gone, was very fresh in their minds. Though, just like the nightmares had been back then, the Light from the present didn’t quite feel that it belonged to him.

When he lost the Death Note… it was crazy. He became a completely different person. It wasn’t just about not remembering being Kira; it reached the point where thinking of what Kira had done revolted him to the core. Then he began questioning himself, doubting his own innocence, and came to realize he could understand his actions to some extent. He used to think the world was rotten before Kira entered the picture, and he still did during the Yotsuba period.

However, the retrieval of the Death Note carved a crack in his moral system he didn’t remember ever sealing. He went back to his old ways, used Misa just like the dangerously volatile tool he had always seen her as. He used everyone, including Rem, a God. Thinking back, it made sense L was suspicious of his most tender side; the Light he was now would have definitely tried to seduce L if he had seen some utility in it.

Kira would have never fallen for the detective.

Even so… what he had felt back then had been real. He did fall for him. And he was given a chance to shatter that burden when he got his memories back –his priority went back to being himself, and L was simply an obstacle–, but this was the first time he let himself think about what could have been, and he found out his feelings weren’t shattered at all.

It still ached.

“Didn’t you do that just to test me?” Light said, accusingly. “You thought I was acting it out, didn’t you. You had to see for yourself how far I’d take it.”

L didn’t kiss him because he felt something for him; he did it to see if he would recoil. In fact, the way he rejected the man in the end was probably interpreted as a positive result.

The ghost didn’t need to answer –Light could see the admission in his face.

“I pretty much confessed to you.” He looked away. That was in the past now. It should have been. L was dead. Then why did he still feel so bitter about it? “And you didn’t even care. You were too busy studying me like a bloody scientist.”

“Can you blame me?” He couldn’t. “Besides, that is not entirely true.”

Confused and untrusting, Light locked eyes with the ghost. L sighed.

“I do admit I didn’t believe it at first –it was too convenient. But I never gave you any hints I was romantically interested in you, and I couldn’t have imagined you were. Therefore, I didn’t understand why you resorted to that method if you just wanted to manipulate me. I began to wonder if it had been for real; but before I could question you further on the subject it was too late. We captured Higuchi, and it didn’t take me long to notice that you… changed.”

Light’s stare landed on his feet. He believed L; he was dead and didn’t need to lie. What if the detective had said something before they cornered Higuchi? It was pointless to dwell on it, since Light was certain he would have killed him in the end. The world needed L to die so Kira could reign. In retrospect, it was a good thing he didn’t, since he allowed Light to move forward with his heart unscathed.

Or so he thought, before all the pain he wasn’t even aware existed inside him through the years came back to bite at him. He hated it. Despising L was easier than this.

“Why are you telling me this?” He bit back, arms crossed as he returned L’s gaze, his ache now obvious in his features. “If I had broken into tears back then and told you I still felt the same way for you, would you have let me go? Would you have risked trusting me? No, you wouldn’t have given me a chance-”

“I did give you a chance. That’s how I know Takada is as good as dead now.”

Light’s eyes widened. He couldn’t mean…

“That time…”

It had been the night after Higuchi’s capture. He had his memories back, and L had, according to the Task Force’s wishes, begrudgingly agreed to dispose of the handcuffs that had bound them together for months. Light was allowed to spend the night in his own room, alone, for the first time in what seemed ages. However, he couldn’t sleep.

It must have been because the excitement at seeing his plan work out perfectly had been too great. Or maybe he had grown used to having someone else lie next to him. His bed seemed huge to the eye and cold to the touch, even though it was the same size as the previous one and both rooms’ thermostats shared the same settings.

He was pacing around aimlessly when he heard a knock on the door. It was L. But Light didn’t get to talk to him, for the man immediately raised his dark eyes to Light’s and determinedly jumped him, pulling him into a ravenous kiss. And before nobody could get in the way, the door was slammed shut and they were in bed.

This could work for my advantage, Light had thought as he gave in without a care for the world. He had wanted it for so long, anyway. In the end, it had been a good way to release pent-up frustrations and unnecessary feelings, and no sweet words or pathetic confessions were exchanged.

“I woke up, alone.” He recalled. “You had gone out to the roof, even though it was pouring. That’s where I found you.”

Right now, Ghost L looked just as sad and decidedly hopeless as he had looked back then. Light could even imagine the rain dripping down his face and dampening him whole in between one blink and the next. Later, at the staircase, L had smiled sadly and said ‘It will be lonely, won’t it? You and I will be parting ways soon’.

He couldn’t have predicted that wouldn’t really ever happen. Still…

“Back then… you already knew you’d die, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” L nodded solemnly.

“But why? I… I gave you my consent. We-”

“Exactly. I knew you disposed of people as soon as you stopped finding them a use. By letting me have you the night before, you were clearly trying to manipulate me. If you had been the same Light I’d been handcuffed to for months –if you had felt strongly enough not to kill me– you would have rejected me. But you didn’t resist or hesitate. Not even when I-”

“Enough.” He breathed. He felt like he was choking. So that was why L had called him a liar back at the roof. The detective had seen right through him… the whole time. But… he was missing a vital piece. A thunder resonated in the distance.

“I invited you to use me. And you did.” L concluded, a small smile forming in his lips without reaching his eyes. The first few droplets began falling.

He had to say it. If he didn’t say it now, he never would.

“Yes, I admit it.” Light lowered his head. The rain grew stronger above him. “I wanted to manipulate you, just as much as you wanted to call me out for it.” Then he raised his chin to look straight into the ghost’s eyes, water rolling down his face as he spoke up. His voice came out broken. “But that’s not all it was, and you know it.”

L’s specter froze, his eyes slowly gaining focus. Light, on the other side, let out a long exhalation. The aching deep in the pit of his stomach didn’t really yield, but shifted. A weight had been lifted; one he couldn’t claim back even if he wanted to.

“Are you saying you truly wanted me?” L breathed out, as if worried that raising his voice would disturb the atmosphere. However, he looked more aghast than hopeful.

“No.” He shook his head, his expression softer. “I’m saying we wanted each other.”

There was silence, and rain. L stood there, petrified as the falling drops trespassed him without disturbing his clothing or his black messy hair. And with every second that he spent with his wide, desperate eyes glued on him, Light’s heart beat faster. Harder.

He had to wait until the man was already dead, but he finally did it.

He finally confessed.

“Won’t you… say something?” He whispered.

L opened his mouth… then closed it. Then opened it again.

“I…” The ghost looked away, and Light realized then how utterly devastated he was. His voice quavered. “I can’t.”

And then he disappeared.

…

Wait.

Why… why couldn’t Light feel him… he was always able to feel him when he vanished, then why?

No.

No… No.

“L…” Nobody answered. “L!!!!!” It was useless.

L wasn’t there. All there was, was silence and rain.

Events continued to develop without further disturbance. He met up with Takada several times –with the Task Force listening, so he didn’t try anything–, and passed his instructions to Mikami. The SPK found out about Mikami and tried to tamper with his Note, so a fake Note was crafted. Everything was going according to plan.

Even Mello’s decision to kidnap Takada, though unexpected, worked out perfectly for him, as he managed to dispatch both of them easily. He had been waiting to see Mello dead since the explosion. As for Takada, he was relieved to take that weight off his back. And he would have actually been able to be a hundred percent remorseless about it had he not remembered his conversation with a certain deceased someone.

As for L… he didn’t return. No matter what Light did or how awful he became, L didn’t manifest, talk inside his head, or give any other signal whatsoever of still existing. And Light had expected it to hurt… maybe he wanted to feel hurt. But he was too empty to feel nothing other than rage, and greed. All that occupied his mind was Near, and their encounter at the warehouse. He was too busy with conquering the world to feel lonely.

Still, some nights he’d surprise himself yelling at the top of his lungs at a soul that no longer tailed him. He’d yell stuff like ‘Aren’t you going to show yourself?!’. There never was an answer.

Then the day came. Mikami did his job perfectly, so much so Light physically struggled to avoid bursting into laughter ahead of time. And right when he was feeling giddy with victory, desperate to rub his success in Near’s juvenile face as the boy’s heart failed… everything was gone. It slipped from between his fingers as easily as the seconds ticked away in his watch.

He didn’t go down without a fight. First, he desperately attempted to accuse the SPK of framing him, and when that didn’t work, he used the truth. The mask he had carefully crafted crumpled. In a feverish, delusional moment of revelation that lacked little to reach hysteria, he gave the greatest speech of his whole life; he shared with them the legacy he had tried to leave behind, hoping they would understand. Even so, Near still called him a crazy serial killer, nothing more, and nothing less.

He had his watch with a piece of the Note inside, but he could have never calculated that Matsuda would shoot him; repeatedly. When he fell to a puddle on the floor and Matsuda stood over him, tears streaking down his betrayed face as he glared and aimed his gun at his head… Light realized how badly he had screwed up.

He could have died. That man could have killed him in a mere instant. Even through the multiple layers of tortuous pain his fresh bullet wounds were inflicting on him, he only had the mental capacity to process that gut-deep, swiping fear.

He called for Mikami… but the man was of no use. So he simply lay there in his puddle as it changed its color from transparent to red. He gasped for air, and cried out.

“Where are you, Misa?!” He had used her, and left her at home, deprived of her memories. “Where’s Takada?!” He had killed her. His actions finally settled fully on him, and tears swelled at the corners of his eyes.

Someone… w-what do I do n-now…

…

L…

Mikami stabbed himself, and Light wasn’t about to grow out of old habits. He used his follower one last time, to crawl to his feet and escape while everybody else focused on the bloodshed.

He ran. As fast as he could, with his body bent over in pain and his injured arm hanging like dead weight by his side. Every step was excruciating to take, and every gasping breath was more difficult to inhale than the one that preceded it, but he didn’t stop. He knew his legs would give in soon. The blood loss was taking an exponential toll on his body. He kept on running, even though it was futile.

Every decision he had made up to that point, only now he could see how they had stuck to him like parasites. He had been rotting away ever since he picked the Note. Ryuk… had been right. In Kira’s crimeless world… the only rotten apple left was him.

However, if he had been given the chance to go back to being that seventeen-year-old, naïve boy he once was, he wouldn’t have taken it.

His running slowed down to walking; he had lost Aizawa and the rest long ago. By the time he reached the abandoned building, he could hardly stay on his feet. He sprawled himself on the stairs… and then he felt it.

It coated over him. It felt like coming back home after what seemed forever.

Hello, Light.

Tears overflowed his eyes. He could have never imagined that his voice would bring him such intense joy.

“L…” he whimpered. “Y-You’re back-”

The specter materialized before him… weird. He looked more corporeal than he ever had before. Or was it just that Light had forgotten how he had looked after so long? There was some sort of ethereal blue aura around him, though, which hadn’t been there before. And he was smiling… fondly.

“You don’t look too well.”

Light laughed, which made him cough and wince in pain.

“Missed you too?” He retorted sarcastically, and it lacked most of its usual bite. Everything, even just raising his head to look L in the eyes, felt awful, but he did it all the same. “I thought… you were gone for good.”

“And give you the pleasure?” The detective grinned, his eyes gleaming. “Never.”

“Good.” He replied, relaxing and smiling at last.

It was at that moment that his heart hammered through his chest… once. Burning pain irradiated in all directions from there. He felt the tingle taking over every inch of his body as his vision blurred and his focus faded.

“W-What…” The pain, suddenly, stopped. All at once. He jerked to his feet, utterly confused, only to realize he didn’t feel the pressure of a floor beneath his feet anymore. L was staring at him wide-eyed. Whatever he saw had him flabbergasted. Light looked over his shoulder… at his own limp body, lying on the stairs and with no soul in its eyes. And he understood. “Ryuk…”

He shook at the incorporeal sound of his own voice.

“That makes two of us, I guess.” L mused, walking over to face him. “Welcome to the realm of the dead, Light.”

“I’m…” He stood still, having a hard time processing it. Then, slowly… a sparkling sensation in his stomach bubbled up, and he giggled. The smile he gave to L was radiant, as he reached out to him.

And as if things couldn’t get any more amazing, when his inexistent fingers landed on the man’s chest… there was resistance to oppose them. Solid, and warm.

“L!” He beamed, patting the other repeatedly. “I can touch you… I’m touching you!”

“Yes. Yes you are.” L confirmed, laughing too. He was bedazzled. “I feel you…”

The moment after, they were wrapped in each other’s arms, laughing. It shouldn’t have felt this real, but it did. Light could even perceive a hint of L’s scent when he dug his face into raven hair.

“You’re here…” He squeezed harder. “What happened? Why did you disappear? Where did you go?”

“I was always here. I was just in such conflict with myself I couldn’t reach out to you.” The man murmured against his shoulder. “I get it now… this was my mission all along. I was supposed to be here, to welcome you when you passed away. Everything makes sense now…”

Light pulled away. He needed to look L in the eyes.

“So, a moment ago…” He hesitated for a moment that didn’t last too long. “When you spoke to me. Was I able to hear you because I was agonizing, or-”

“I don’t think that’s the reason.” L shook his head, and smiled. “I finally found an answer to my conflict. To my feelings for you.”

Light blinked, finally understanding. He didn’t think he’d be able to feel butterflies in his stomach given how he no longer had internal organs, but he did.

“What I said that time…”

“You wrecked me.” L joked, and cupped Light’s face in his hands. When their eyes locked, his were full of devotion. “But you were right. I shouldn’t have, you were a mass murderer not to mention my nemesis, but I did want you. More than you can imagine.”

Light reached up, to fondly caress L’s knuckles.

“L, I loved you.” He swallowed, and leaned into the warm touch. “I… still do. Even after everything.”

“Me too.” The man whispered back, and for the first time, Light heard him go weak.“Even after everything.”

He grabbed him by the collar and locked their lips together. He melted into the kiss, trembling feverishly. He had missed this sensation so much he could barely stand it. The plush, wet and enticing brush of their lips soon grew hungrier, starving, even though they were both smiling into it. And it felt, both literally and metaphorically, more real than any other touch they had ever shared, dead or alive.

Then, they slowly began crumbling away. The kiss was broken as they both stared down. It began at their feet –they were dissolving into iridescent specs of dust that caught the light, and then into nothing. Gradually, it crawled up their shins, reaching their knees, and thighs.

But it wasn’t painful, or scary. Neither of them was scared. It was very peaceful. But just in case he didn’t get another chance, Light pressed every part of him that remained to L’s shape.

“L…” He breathed against the man’s mouth. “Are… are you even real? Or have you just been a product of my imagination all this time?”

L looked puzzled for a moment, but then he simply smiled.

“Does it even matter at this point?”

Light looked him in the eyes, as their torsos began to fade, and felt it deep within himself. He took L’s face in his hands, even though the tips of his fingers were disappearing too.

“No.” He concluded, and leaned in for one last loving kiss which L reciprocated.

And after that, nothing.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Three

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 3: Eating Habits

Chapter Summary: You can’t claim to be friendly with someone until you start tormenting them. Unfortunately (for some people) Steve’s better at it.

Chapter Word Count: 1386

A/N: Hey, did you guys know Frappuccino is a trademarked term? I didn’t. No wonder every place outside of Starbucks calls it a “blended” drink. I’m still using it because ‘why not,’ but there’s your fun fact for the day. In any case, I was on a roll with the story but here’s where my backlog ends, so the next bits will take a little time.

    “Is that all you ever have for lunch?”

“Hello to you too.” I looked up at Steve and added: “Busybody.”

“Sorry,” he said, and looked it, so I waved my hand to let him know it wasn’t anything. He sat next to me and brought out his trusty sketchbook. “I mean, I’ve heard of living off caffeine, but I always thought it was facetious.”

I snorted. “It depends. But I tend to eat at my desk so I can enjoy my actual hour break, so don’t worry. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said and left him to his own devices. Until I realized something. “Hey, do you eat lunch?”

“Busybody,” he said without any inflection and was that a smirk?

“Fair is fair,” I said and waved a finger at him. “It’s my turn to be nosy.”

The smirk turned to a smile and he lifted his head. “I eat at home, mostly,” he said. “I eat a lot and it tends to…draw attention.”

“Oh, same,” I said and patted my stomach.

It made him laugh, so that was nice. Except that not one minute later he stopped sketching and lifted his head. “You know, I didn’t mean–”

“If you apologize again I am going to go up to the counter, order the coldest, sugariest drink they have, and give it to you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How are you going to make me drink it?”

“I’m just going to let it sit there. If you don’t want it you can throw it out.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t care. I bought a sandwich last night, took two bites, and hated it so much I trashed the whole thing.” I stared him down. “Try me.”

His mouth twisted like he didn’t like the taste of my words. But he didn’t lecture me. Directly. “Buying something you know I won’t drink would be a big waste of money on your part.”

“It’s worth it for the entertainment of watching you try to justify tossing it. And it’s still cheaper than going to a movie,” I said. “I don’t know if you’re allergic to wasting food or what but I watched you struggle through a muffin you obviously did not want to be eating.”

“How observant,” he said dryly.

“Dude, you were making faces. It was hilarious.”

His face scrunched with his frown. “You’re lying.”

“Nope. Best lunch break ever,” I said. I could still remember it fondly, though I wish I had taken video. Damn my respect for privacy. “I could have told you that a bran muffin wasn’t going to turn out good.”

“I’ve had some that I liked,” he said. He quickly amended, “One. I’ve had one that was good.”

“Hmmmmm.” I gave him the best side-eye I could manage. “Okay, I guess I’ll believe that, just because you’re that boring and no one would lie about liking bran muffins.”

“Hey, I’m trying new things,” Steve said and opened his arms. “When’s the last time you changed your order?”

I looked at my drink and snack and, yeah, I had been on a kick for a while. I rolled my eyes at Steve’s stupid smug face. “Touché. Fine. Bring me this mystical ‘good’ bran muffin and I’ll try it. If–” I pointed at a drink nearby. “If you try a frappuccino.”

“Is that what that thing is called?” he asked. But he smiled at me and stuck out his hand. “Okay– deal.”

We shook on it. …But I hoped he would forget about it. I knew I was going to and boy wouldn’t that be an unpleasant surprise to have one day.

“Hey,” he said a few minutes later. “Did you really throw out a whole sandwich?”

I laughed. “To be honest: I don’t like to waste food either. It was that bad,” I said, just glancing up at him from my phone. “And the guy who made it was so damn rude– I’m never going back there again. But yeah; I couldn’t choke it down, so I just gave up on having dinner.”

“Hm,” he said, and I thought that was it.

“…But you’re going to get more than a bite into the muffin, right?”

I kept my head where it was, but let my eyes move to the top of the sockets to stare at him. “You’re not really going to bring a bran muffin. Are you?”

He smiled sweetly.

~

“I can’t believe you’re actually making me do this.”

“You didn’t have to shake on it,” he said, but he was unable to contain his smile, the sadistic bastard. He even held up his identical brown sponge. “Now…which drink should I get?”

Oh what I wouldn’t have given for this place to have a green tea one just to see the look on his face. And then the look on his face when he realized it was good. Alas, the menu board was no help for returned sadism. “The caramel blended drink,” I said and poked my “treat.”

“Okay. Don’t eat until I get back,” he said and rushed to the counter. Yep. Sadist. However, I wanted to see his face when he took his first sip so I did wait for him to come back. With something good. Because I was nice. Ugh.

“Whipped cream and a caramel drizzle,” I said appreciatively as he sat down. “Good job.”

“I figured I should do it right,” he said. The look he gave it though was wary. Cautious. Suspicious. The way he should have been looking at a fucking bran muffin rather than a cup of caramel goodness.

“Come on Captain America. A cavity won’t kill you,” I said.

He gave me a look that said ‘if you say so,’ brought the straw to his lips, took a sip, and…made a small sound of approval. He pulled it back like he had to make sure he had the right drink. What a weirdo. “That’s…really good. I thought it’d be too sweet but it tastes good.”

I preened a little. Until I remembered what he had saddled me with. But a deal was a deal, so I broke apart the muffin into a few pieces, took a small one, and popped it into my mouth. It was…not the worst thing I had ever eaten. It wasn’t good, wasn’t bad, and I didn’t know how to react to it. So I took another piece, and then another, and hoped it would be something eventually.

“You were right,” Steve said. “This is pretty entertaining.”

I rolled my eyes, but he was obviously enjoying his drink and that was nice. There: good deed for the year done. I put my hand up to cover my mouth. “Dinner and a show?” I asked.

He looked up for a moment, then back to me. “Lunch and a matinee.”

I chuckled but when I almost choked I focused on eating. Or tried to. The time I spent chewing meant the chunks of nothing had coalesced into something unpleasant, texture-wise. Once I got it down it left an aftertaste that could only be described as ‘brown.’

“What’s the verdict?” Steve asked.

“Um…” I made an exaggerated shrug. “It…sure is a bran muffin?”

He laughed and gestured for me to hand it over. “It’s okay; I’ll take the rest if you don’t want it.”

“Are you sure?” I asked even as I shoved the napkin still full of muffin (“muffin”) towards him.

“Yeah, you gave it a fair shot,” he chuckled and I could finally enjoy my drink and game in peace. It took a few minutes but I finally got the ‘…’ taste out of my mouth and I sighed in contentment.

“…My playlists are going to suffer for this, aren’t they?”

I didn’t bother lifting my head. “I can’t wait to hear what you think of Lamb of God. Or Powerman 5000.”

I could hear him shift. “Can’t I just try some other drink instead?”

I lifted my head and tried to smile sweetly. I tried. However, judging by the look on his face, I did the opposite of that. Oh well. I started humming “Remorse Is For The Dead” and planned out his musical homework. So maybe we were both sadists. At least now it was my turn.

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 87 - Redeemer

Chapter Synopsis: With the threat of a Grimm army looming on the edges of Vacuo, the Kingdom faces even more adversity with Salem’s personal arrival to see the war’s end. Meanwhile, Team ENMY must develop the skills they need to combat the Witch the only way they know how. Trial by Fire.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

Redeemer

.

I’m sorry for the things I said before I had my coffee.

.

.

In the lowest chamber of the lowest Tower, a figure casually immersed herself in the memories of different worlds.

Cinder breathed a long sigh after finishing the most recent recollection. The burdens of being Queen were accumulating with no way to relieve it. There was little time to rest. The only solace she could take—to her surprise—was she did not have to carry the weight of the crown alone.

“What a surprise. You’re spending your time here again,” a voice came from behind.

“Only in hopes of gaining some insightful answer to our predicament, my fellow Queen.”

At the greeting, Weiss joined Cinder’s side in watching more projections play out.

“And, have you found anything we can use?” she asked.

“Not even remotely.”

“…What should we do?”

“Vacuo may very well fall before our Fleet’s arrival.”

“And, if by some luck, it manages to get there in time, will it be enough?”

“Difficult to say.” Cinder answered evenly.

“We can’t send more of the Fleet. Vale and Mistral could start a second campaign any moment.”

“This is also true.”

Weiss couldn’t help but frown at her coregent’s indifference. It annoyed, but also put her off. The fellow Queen was usually so sure of herself, confident in her actions. It might have been the closeness they were beginning to develop, but she was able to detect the small cadence changes in Cinder’s mood. When complete indifference stuck to her tone, it usually meant the Black Queen was depressed.

And this war between Vacuo and Salem was very distressing.

“Do you think we can trust Temujin?” Weiss asked.

“Possibly.”

“We might lose a large portion of our army and a new allied Kingdom in just a week.”

“The very thought did cross my mind.”

“We have to at least, evacuate Team ENMY.”

“I find myself agreeing with that sentiment.”

“…Should we send more of our forces to Vacuo?”

Cinder finally turned to face her.

“As always, you make a good point of asking all the correct questions, while providing none of its key answers.”

“Hmph!”

The Black Queen smiled teasingly at the White.

“Salem is taking the field, according to Temujin’s spies. We can either dedicate more of our limited resources to saving a potentially lost cause, or…”

“Or we should cut our losses now,” Weiss finished shortly. The words left a sour aftertaste in her mouth.

Trapped in an endless loop of bad decisions followed by dire scenarios, a loud groan escaped her.

“If only the Bridge Project was finished!”

“Ah, yes. Our little gamechanger. Unfortunately, our dear Masa and Polendina estimate another month’s work before its completion.”

“…We should send more forces.”

“…”

“We didn’t account for Salem,” Weiss added. “Her arrival completely changed the landscape of the situation there.”

“A bold move on her part. At the same time, she knows we cannot commit too many forces to Vacuo’s cause.”

“We also didn’t have an accurate measurement of the Grimm she’s capable of gathering.”

“Any additional reinforcements sent will arrive days late.”

“We have to try.”

“We risk forsaking any chance of defeating Salem in the late game.”

“We can’t lose Vacuo.”

“I understand your noble intentions…Weiss—”

The serious use of her name, without any formalities, drove the graveness of Cinder’s tone deeper.

“—But we cannot allow our emotions to dictate judgment. I doubt Temujin would make any less of a decision were she in our position.”

The White Queen went silent for a moment.

“…Is this how we win the war, Cinder? Is this how we expect to defeat Salem? By abandoning Vacuo?”

“…”

“And may I remind you, Team ENMY would probably be even less inclined to abandon our newfound allies just to save their own lives.”

Cinder visibly tensed.

“That is a very serious problem.”

“We’ve read the reports. They’re fond of Temujin and the Kingdom’s people. Team ENMY won’t evacuate just because we order them to.”

“So, what moves do we have available to us?” Cinder held her chin in thought. “Should we deploy a second Fleet now, the fact remains they would likely never arrive in time. And there still remains the issue of Salem. What amount of forces could we possibly send to could contend with the Witch?”

“I know. We agreed, whenever the time finally came to face Salem, we could only hope to do so with you, Yang, and myself. Anything short of the Maidens would…Wait a minute—" Weiss stopped.

Her brow wrinkled with focus.

“What?”

“Someone who could match Salem AND arrive in Vacuo in time.”

Cinder stared blankly before the realization donned on her.

“I must be getting tired, if I failed to think of that myself. Do you think he will agree?”

“He has been taken a turn for the better lately.”

“Hm. Indeed, the work seems eerily suited to him. Both of them—”

“Let us offer him the role of Redeemer, then.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“My word…”

As Professor Oobleck saw the capital city of Vacuo peek just above the horizon, he also saw rippling black specks dotting the skies above it. They could only be one thing.

“Grimm! I must hurry!”

His mind raced as he turned the accelerator on the bike he was riding and tapped the clutch to switch gears. The motorcycle’s engine roared. Its large wheels kicked up a dust storm behind him.

As he closed in, he saw what was actually being attacked was a moving caravan, not the city itself. The expedition faced heavy harassment in their attempt to return home. Judging by the damages they were accruing, they would not last by the time they reached the safety of the wall.

At least, not without a little help.

As Oobleck maneuvered the bike closer, he assessed the situation more carefully. A pack of great beasts hounded the vehicles’ flanks. Grimm with the bodies of lions. They had the additional head of a ram’s and a tail in the form of a snake. A species called Crymera, classified as A-Class Grimm.

Although the four-pawed monstrosities posed their own threat, Vacuo’s warriors should have been adept at handling them. The true problem lied with the Grimm hovering above.

Oobleck set his sights to the apparitions circling the line of trucks like vultures. Bony cloaked figures with matching chains swooped up and down. The dark wraiths haunting the party were Daemontors, classified as Aberration Class.

Not only were they able to render Semblances unusable, they could only be disposed of via Aura concentrated arms or Magic. This was due to an almost complete lack of physical body. The threat they posed was usually small due to their small numbers and lack of direct harm, but coupled with the Crymera…

Oobleck watched as the caravan could only use raw Dust rounds to combat their pursuers. Without their Semblances, they would not be able to fight off the Crymera. But they needed to leave their vehicles and bring the battle close-range if they wanted to dispose of the Daemontors.

The Professor took one last glug of his thermos before collapsing it into its Torch setting.

“Yang may not be very pleased when she hears what I am about to do with her bicycle.”

He aimed his tracks for the tallest dune.

“Allons-y!”

Flying off the ramp of sand, Oobleck popped a wheelie at its very end. With an acrobatic grace, he backflipped off, and drew his Torch in a wide arc. Flames spewed from his weapon’s mouth.

“HAH!!!”

Like a professional batter’s homerun swing, Oobleck cracked the motorcycle into the cloud of Daemontors. The vehicle then, exploded with all the extravagance of fireworks. Shrapnel, reinforced by the Professor’s Aura, pierced and burned the Grimm caught in its destructive radius.

When he landed, some of the chasing Crymera broke off to focus their new prey.

“Oh, dear.”

Just then, the caravan line divided, and rounded back. The expeditioners understood what the professor did and were not ready to simply abandon him. With their Semblances unlocked, they practically leapt off their vehicles before they came to a full stop.

…

The battle was over within minutes.

“I am very grateful for your help,” Oobleck shook the hands of the party’s leader.

“We should be the ones thanking you,” the female Faunus returned the gesture. “If you didn’t take care of those Daemontors, we would’ve been done for. You’re a brave man.”

“You give me far too much credit.”

“No, you truly are a brave man. Temujin loved that bike.”

“………Pardon?”

As Professor Oobleck was guided to the city and to the Hanging Gardens, he came upon the hectic scene that was supposed to be Temujin���s throne room.

A number of officials shuffled back and forth. The great doors, which used to remain close, were now kept open. Soldiers, as well as executives, constantly filtered through its threshold.

“Ah. Good work, Professor. Nice to see you again.”

Ilia Amitola was the first to pay him any attention. With a clipboard in hand, and a number of assistants at her side, she looked every bit the government official.

“You know Temujin loved that bike, right?”

“So, I’ve heard. In my defense, I thought it belonged to Miss Xiao Long.”

“Yeah, well. You’re lucky the old lady isn’t around at the moment. I’d like to say thank you for helping our people, but first things first.”

Ilia produced a shard of Dust from her pocket, and thrust it to him.

While Oobleck obediently obliged, he couldn’t help but note the subtle movement the Chameleon Faunus paid towards the sword-whip at her waist. As a result, the dry swallow he made wasn’t solely due to downing the energy supplement.

“…Glad to know it’s really you. You can make your report to Mouse,” Ilia pitched her thumb to the throne. There, he could see the young boy sitting where Temujin once sat.

“Where is Temujin, might I ask?”

“She has her hands full with another of her selfish whims. The Rakis siblings are in charge in the meantime. And, you,” the girl turned to the expedition leader. “After you take your own Dust, you are officially being assigned to the guard unit.”

“WHAT FOR?!” the woman cried.

“Are you kidding me? You disobeyed a direct order. There were supposed to be no more expeditions until Mouse or Temujin’s say so.”

“Our city is running low on food supplies and there were still settlements on the outer reaches that weren’t completely evacuated!”

“And let’s not forget, anybody that goes outside the walls might come back as someone else. You risked more Cuckoos infiltrating the city.”

“Yes, wouldn’t want our best Huntresses and Huntsmen to kill their own people.”

The chamber paused silent at the statement.

Ilia and Mouse were struck with a temporary loss of what to do. Would they have to take the expedition leader aside? If they punished her, then and there, what kind of repercussions would they be looking at? How much farther would their morale fall?

As they contemplated, a small Knives stepped forward, and buried her fist in the expedition leader’s gut.

“Demoted. Report back to your quarters and await reassignment,” she said with a callous tone.

“Since when, *Cough!* did our Kingdom become something like this?”

“…”

“And where the hell is Temujin?!”

“Survival of the Fittest,” Ilia echoed the creed. “We have to do what we can in order to survive. The best way our people can do that is by following orders.”

“And what about Strength in Numbers?! How are we supposed to survive if we don’t have each other?!”

“…You’re right. Fine.”

“What?”

“No demotion,” Ilia said with a dead tone.

The words rung hollow in a chamber full of people. Knives was about to protest, when the Chameleon Faunus grabbed the scruff of the expedition leader’s neck, and brought her face close.

“But if I find ONE Cuckoo in the party you brought back, I swear by the Khans of Vacuo…!”

“They will be dealt with.”

Mouse was the one to answer this time. From the throne, his voice echoed with an authoritative clarity.

“She understands, Ilia. You, too, Knives. Just let it go.”

“But, Mouse—!” his sister started.

“We have enough supplies to last us until Atlas arrives. The outer settlements are now completely evacuated, so we can put that discussion to rest. I can assume no more reckless expeditions will be taken?”

The leader of the caravan nodded warily.

“We still have work to do and a war to win. We cannot be divided whenever Salem’s true attack comes.”

More silence followed the proxy king’s command. Then, one by one, the officers in the room resumed with their work. The chamber returned to its bustling environment of chaos once more.

Meanwhile, Professor Oobleck made his way before the throne.

“So—”

“Where is Temujin?”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

In a world that was constantly spinning like the inside of a disco ball, eight figures were working to catch their breaths.

Their private pocket of the Never Realm never failed to warp their sense of time and placement. More often than not, they felt like they spent years within the dimension as opposed to actual days passing in the physical world. A tax heavily affecting both body and mind, if the training wasn’t already enough.

“How long is this four v. four deathmatch marathon going to go ON?!” Emerald shouted in exasperation.

“Actually, it appears our time is up,” Minerva answered.  “Our Kingdom is reaching its breaking point.”

“So, we’re ready?!” Yang banged her fists together.

“Well, you’ll have to be,” Raven scoffed.

Neo only grinned with a thin smile of playfulness.

“It is time Vacuo strikes back against the Witch,” Nai nodded.

“Finally. I always wondered what those characters felt like when I put in those infinite life cheat codes. Not what I imagined,” Mercury laid, spread-eagle on the “floor”.

“Hm…”

Temujin threw a cursory glance between her Khans and Team ENMY.

The four youths answered their expectations and then some during their hellish training. They sat around the ruined nightmare-scape exhausted. Temujin could feel their frayed nerve-endings. Their insides were practically the stuff of ragdolls. Still, a fierce light burned inside them, as well as a trace of cockiness in their sneer.

Her Khans were in similar shape. Scraped and battered from their endless matches, and it wasn’t due to any carelessness or ease on their part.

In any other situation, Temujin would have dubbed ENMY successors to the “team” that ended the Third Crusade. But she decided to keep that thought to herself.

Can’t have them getting a bigger head than they already have.

“I hereby recognize Team ENMY as Huntresses and Huntsmen officially licensed under the Vacuo Kingdom,” Temujin spoke up.

“Excuse me?” Minerva turned a stern glare towards her.

“What, I have the authority! It’s not as if you weren’t thinking the same thing, you hypocrite!”

“I was thinking they would only be granted the title once they fulfilled an actual Grimm Extermination Contract.”

“Then, we’ll just give them one!”

“Ugh!” the Headmaster rolled her eyes, and then scoffed hard into her hand.

“Team ENMY!” Temujin carried on without a care. “You are herby contracted with a Grimm Extermination Contract of the highest order! Eliminate all the Cuckoos within Vacuo’s city! Upon doing so, you will be granted the official titles of Huntresses and Huntsmen! In short, an impromptu graduation!”

In spite of the elder woman’s rousing declaration, Team ENMY could only return the gesture with an expression that communicated, “What a jip.” Though, Yang did feel a warm tingle tug at her heartstrings.

Emerald, who had grown too intimate with Temujin’s personality over their time together, simply chose to ignore her. Instead, she clapped her hands with a business-like fashion. The attention of her team concentrated on her.

“Alright, hostiles. You know how this song goes. Get some sleep—”

“Tomorrow, we commence Operation Gun Dog.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

At a certain training room within Cerberus Tower, Weiss and Cinder came upon three of the room’s occupants.

Ruby was sitting beside Masa, viewing the record of her most recent attempt to utilize her Silver Eye abilities.  Meanwhile, her Uncle regarded their sudden visitors with a suspicious look.

“Qrow Branwen,” Cinder spoke with the allure of a devil. “Or should I say, Titan?”

“…”

“Your assimilation with your host is to be allowed to complete, but in return—"

“We have an urgent mission for you.”

[simnovels-blog]

Descendants of the Sun - Trapping Frio, Part II

Week 3, day 4

After their somewhat awkward conversation in the hallway, Connor and Izanami decided it was time to change the subject and to blow off some steam with a good old pillow fight. It really helped to break some of the newfound ice between them and after a while all the negative opinions Connor had about Izanami seemed to have disappeared again. He was happy to finally have some fun without having to think about the fact that he was now a divorced dad and that he had to make arrangements for custody and all that stuff.

Izanami: “You and I get along pretty well, Connor. It’s a shame we met in such strange circumstances. Maybe if we had met a few weeks earlier, life would be very different right now.” Connor: “Like what?” Izanami: “Like you and me could be together...” Connor: “I wonder if that would have made our lives better. At least we wouldn’t be stuck with cheating spouses...”

Suddenly, Connor felt really sad again about the situation. Izanami picked up on his emotions and wrapped her arms around him to hug him tightly. Connor: “Everything is so fucked up...” Izanami: “Don’t worry about it, Connor. Life sucks sometimes, but it’ll always get better after you’ve reached rock bottom! I’m here to help you get back on your feet again.”

Connor: “Why are you so nice to me? I mean, we don’t even know each other that long and I feel like you’re doing everything to make my life better... you opened my eyes and showed me what a terrible person Jamie is, you’re here to keep me from falling into a lonely depression... what did I do to deserve all of this?”

Izanami: “Well, to be honest Connor, the moment I saw you, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re a very handsome man and pretty soon I found out you’ve got quite the beautiful personality as well. You can say I have some special feelings for you that make me want to go out of my way to make sure you are happy and well taken care of...” She stared deeply into his eyes with her truly mesmerizing glance and all Connor could do was stare back at her. She was so incredibly seductive, so beautiful. Any man would dream of being so close to a stunning femme fatale like Izanami. Connor knew that he was probably straying off the right path by giving into her seductive manners, but he was lonely. He was vulnerable and Izanami knew exactly how to say the right things to him. She was playing her game so well, that even Connor could not stop himself from falling into her trap. He had no idea who this woman truly was. The character she had shown him, was mostly fake and the stories she had told him were mostly lies. But she was such a good liar, all her words sounded so true that no one would ever consider doubting them. It made her incredibly dangerous and extremely successful in her evil plans.

And as she had planned it, she moved in to kiss Connor for the second time since she had met him, but this time he did not have the strength to reject her anymore. They kissed for a long time, without ever pausing to say anything. It was purely physical, though lots of emotions could be found in the passion the both of them were showing. Connor was kissing away his anger towards his ex wife, while Izanami was kissing with great excitement, knowing that once again she had succeeded in seducing a man, no matter how impossible it had seemed at first.

Without ever discussing it, the two of them moved to the bedroom to continue their physical encounter with each other. Izanami kept hypnotizing Connor with her glowing yellow eyes which didn’t hide her dangerous character at all, but that was exactly what made her so extremely attractive to others. She was a delicious devil, a sin no one could fight against, not even Connor.

Izanami: “I’m very happy right now, this is what I’ve wanted for a very long time.” Connor: “I don’t know what I am, I just know that it feels good to be near you and I want more of it. You’re so beautiful, I could stare at you all day...” Izanami: “You can stare at me from underneath the sheets!”

And so they did, under the watchful eye of the Frio housedog, they let go of anything mind-related and indulged themselves in pure physical passion. It was good, it was naughty and for Connor it was very, very dangerous. But that last part most probably made this one of the most intense nights of his life.

Unfortunately, the moment could not last forever, and the aftertaste was very bitter for Connor. Now that he had snapped out of Izanami’s hypnotizing aura, he suddenly realized what he had done. The one thing he truly hated about people, unfaithfulness... he had helped Izanami do this to her husband. Of course, she told him he had cheated on her and that they didn’t care about it, but all of this still felt very wrong. It was too late now though, the damage was already done. And soon enough, we’d find out how much damage there actually was...

[awakeandalive2012]

Life Update

I wanted to start this post with a familiar life lesson: 

We have learned that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Simple enough. What I have learned in the recent months is that life gives you lemons, but people seem to chuck them away because of the sour aftertaste or it’s not the perfect lemons for their lemonade. It makes you question why you are making lemonade in the first place. You keep working at it, until finally, someone takes a sip of what you made. Suddenly, all the lemons in the world and the tiring work was worth it. 

Previously I was working on a Disney Channel show called “Stuck in the Middle” for their third (and unfortunately) last season as a Post Production Assistant. I, along with everyone on the show, was basically done working in May 2018. I was super heartbroken; this was my first professional entertainment related job and 9 months seemed like a short amount of time to work. However, the experiences and the people I got to work with were pretty talented and incredible people. I was honored to have my first real world work experience in the Hollywood scene to have been with such nice and hardworking individuals. So a big THANK YOU to everyone on Stuck in the Middle, cast and crew, for giving me a chance to shine and prove what I can do. The series finale actually aired on July 23rd, 2018 and for me to look back on the show and the experiences that it gave me left me with a satisfied feeling of accomplishment. 

So I embarked on my next chapter, head high in confidence that my newfound experience would be helpful; it didn’t. For about a month and a half, I was searching non stop for any opportunity to continue my Hollywood journey. I was applying every day to anything. I even went home for a long time because after countless interviews and even more countless rejections. The phrase “not enough experience” was the number one reason I was not landing the jobs, which confuses me. How in the world am I supposed to gain experience when I am not able to get a job and obtain such experience? A sure Catch 22 situation I have admitted many times to many people. So, with this pent up frustration after a few interviews, I called my parents and said “I am coming home for a while”. 

I enjoyed my time home with my loved ones and my family. I got to surprise my grandmother and my NC family, I got to see my cats (One of them bit me which made me kind of sad) and spent a week in DC with my boyfriend, which was a blast. There was some reflection, more job applications, more phone interviews, and even more job rejections. In most cases, no response. I even considered work in Atlanta GA for a while. But I was told, and kept telling myself to push through and keep going. And guess what? It worked. First I sent my resume from my old supervisor to a contact from ABC’s Black-ish. I got a call from the producer a couple of weeks later. Then, when I returned to LA, I went on my in person interview. In the meantime, I had to make money while I kept applying to jobs, so I became a Lyft driver (new post coming about that soon) Now, I write this post on the eve of starting my new job as the Post Production Assistant for the upcoming season of Black-ish. And for that, I am super grateful that I have a new opportunity to prove my worth and continue working in the entertainment industry. So thank you for believing in me.

Moral of the story; Even though life hands you the materials to make this delicious beverage, not everyone will like your lemonade. But you have to keep making it until someone wants to take a chance and drink the nice refreshing beverage. 

[superfitbabe]

dd

Hi everybody! I just uploaded a new YouTube video! Woohoo!

Vlog #3 essentially captures everything that I did and ate leading up to my one-year vegan anniversary, which was Friday, August 24th, the official day I became vegan and the start of not eating anymore animal products for good! Just to clarify, vegan anniversaries are a special commencement that vegans alike love to celebrate annually. The first day of being a vegan is very important to us because it marks such a wonderful life change!

This video really highlights the food and includes some bits and pieces of my potato face and awkward personality, so you can enjoy that too. Oh yes, and I’ll admit that lately I have been obsessed with Luis Fonsi’s music. No shame! 😉 I highly encourage you to watch the video, but if you want a more in-depth peek into my week, then keep scrolling down (fortunately for you all, there won’t be any cringey dancing involved)!

AUGUST 22ND 2017

Wednesday started off perfectly with two juicy nectarines and an incredible workout that followed this snack! I have been hooked on peaches and nectarines lately, and I will be devastated when they go out of season! I might miss them even more than figs, which says a LOT!

Post-workout munchies really started to kick in around four hours later and I wanted something really quick and easy. This meal took less than ten minutes to make! Everything is basically cooked edamame spaghetti that I sauteed with two LARGE handfuls of spinach, a bit of curry powder, and a splash of low sodium organic soy sauce! Even though this dish is really simple, it’s going to get its own recipe post because it’s insanely delicious! This kept me so satiated until I headed out to hang out with Cory (follow him on Instagram too!)!

  Just HAD to sneak in another nectarine. Yep, I’m addicted.

Pomegranate was the main destination my dad dropped me off at so I could see my vegan Instagram pal Cory! Basically, Pomegranate is a completely plant-based cafe that serves deli and hot-bar items, as well as a small selection of desserts! Unfortunately, Cory and I were under the impression that Pomegranate was mainly a bakery, not a cafe, hence we were very underwhelmed with the array of desserts provided. However, we did not leave empty-handed–I bought this “sweet” chocolate cake that happens to be completely sugar free! WHAT?! Anyways, overall, had I known that this cafe serves more lunch-based items than desserts, I would probably have had a better experience. I will definitely come back to try more, but because we were disappointed with the small selection that day, we hopped in Cory’s vehicle and drove to an old favorite, Pressed Juicery.

On the way to Pressed, Cory and I tried some of the miso almond cookies that he bought from Pomegranate! This cookie was absolutely to die for–slightly salty and tangy from the miso, but sweet and mild with a nutty aftertaste as well. Definitely on the smaller side for a cookie, but it’s totally worth a try!

Looks like we were made to come to Pressed Juicery, because it had this amazing $1 deal for their smallest size (they only have two sizes: one is 4-6 ounces and the other is 8-10) that day! My first size 1 consisted of their vanilla freeze with strawberries and a little pink sea salt, which I paired with the sugar free chocolate cake!

Combination-wise? Oh. My. Goodness. The cake was really creamy and slightly firm from its different layers of goodness! It’s definitely richer than sweetener, so if you are sensitive to bitterness, this is not the cake for you. However, the sweetness from the dates in the vanilla freeze balances out the bitter chocolate in the cake, so do have the cake with something sweet!

Had a lot of fun topping everything off!

Ever tried leave-in-the-oven-and-go-do-something-else-while-it-bakes meals? Well, this is exactly what those meals are! Anyways, I roasted some organic firm tofu and heaps of Brussels sprouts at 450F for around forty minutes, and then paired everything with organic and low sugar sweet and sour sauce. This was absolutely to die for, even though this dish is incredibly simple! Problem is, the Brussels sprouts left quite a stench in the kitchen. Remember: roasted Brussels sprouts are parent-disapproved.

AUGUST 23RD, 2017

Farewell, nectarine. Hello, workout! As a quick pre-workout snack, I demolished the last nectarine in our fridge! As you can see, I’m absolutely obsessed with stone fruits. My workout went really well as always. I haven’t had a sucky workout in a long time, and I think having a little fruit or carby snack really helps! (Obviously, everyone works differently. You might need more or less food!)

Talk about EPICNESS here. I made this AMAZING chocolate cake made with oat flour and butternut squash! No egg substitute, oil, nor gluten necessary! But yes, the chocolate is necessary. Otherwise, it’s not a chocolate cake. 😉

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To frost the cake, I used one packet of Nutiva chocolate plant protein with 30 superfoods! With an amazing nutritional profile, this protein tastes wonderful! It’s definitely not very sweet, so you will have to add some Stevia or any kind of sweetener to taste. Texture-wise, it’s in between creamy and downright grassy, so I would say it’s around average when weighing in for vegan protein. Not my favorite in terms of palatable-ness, but the ingredients and macronutrients are A+!

My protein was used in my two-ingredient chocolate protein frosting recipe that I’m obsessed with, and went on top of the cake along with some goji berries and Nature’s Path pumpkin flax granola, which I bought in bulk at Costco!

Stay tuned, because I will be creating the recipe in a separate post very soon! But this cake was incredible–I had NO complaints whatsoever. You bet I ate the entire cake too.

Kettle corn has to be my favorite kind of popcorn! After a few hours, my mother and sisters came back from Whole Foods and bought some Boom Chicka Pop! light kettle corn and finished the last of the bag as a midday snack. This treat was really crunchy, perfectly sweetened, and had just the right amount of saltiness!

Corn-flake cravings started to really kick in, hence I made a bowl of corn flakes but mixed in some of that same Nutiva chocolate superfoods protein blended in water and liquid Stevia! Even though this snack was so simple, I absolutely love the taste of it! Crunchy with a hint of chocolate goodness–YES. That’s all I can say.

Twisted things up around dinnertime when my mother decided to boil and chill some buckwheat soba, which I paired with nori, black and white sesame seeds, and some Japanese-style spinach (unpictured). If I had to pick a favorite type of grain (or seed?) based pasta, buckwheat soba would definitely win. But I have tried quinoa pasta before, and that is also absolutely delicious!

AUGUST 24TH 2017

While protein “mylk” with cereal is much more popular as a post-workout meal among fitness influencers, I actually whipped it up half an hour before exercising! This tasted as delicious as it did the previous day. Also, is it weird that I actually like cereal that’s slightly soggy? Of course, there has to be some crunchiness, but the softness in the majority of the flakes really appeal to my tastebuds! Call me crazy, but I love soft cereal!

Rarity of a beauty. This is basically how you would describe an Okinawan purple sweet potato. Even though I didn’t have enough time to steam or bake these sweet potatoes–I just microwaved them on high power–the texture and flavor were still perfect! Okinawan purple sweet potatoes have a very dense, brownie-like texture, while the flavor is relatively rich yet naturally sweet at the same time! Why do these bad boys have to be so expensive?!

  Guess where I went to next. Go on. If you watch the video, you will know that I got dropped off at the one and only…PizzaRev! For DAYS, I had to fend off a pizza craving I couldn’t satisfy because I didn’t have my car to drive anywhere nearby to buy ingredients or order one for myself! Once I peeked at the menu, I decided to create my own masterpiece. I stuck with their signature thin crust, which was spread with spicy tomato sauce, green bell peppers, red onion, spinach, pickled jalapenos, cherry tomatoes, basil, garlic, mushrooms, vegan sausage, and cilantro! Yes, I felt like eating gluten today. Yes, this pizza was SUPER spicy. No, I regretted nothing.

Fun fact: a really nice man saw me trying to take a selfie with my pizza and offered to take a picture of me with it. Hence, photo credits towards him for this shot, which I absolutely adore! The positive encounter just made my day that much brighter!

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During my trip at Target in the local shopping mall, I bought a whole box of Health Warrior dark chocolate chia bars to taste! Honestly, they are now one of my favorite flavors EVER. Think of a brownie with a chia seed base. The bar is rich, fudgy, decadent, crunchy from the chia seeds and dark chocolate chips, and scantly sweet. Chocolate peanut butter probably still ranks #1, but watch out, because dark chocolate is climbing to the top fiercely!

Tofu makes a glorious appearance once again, but in the form of a lovely tomato dish! This recipe was actually inspired by the tomato fried tofu I gobbled all up back in Vietnam when we visited some family. Instead of frying the tofu, my mother and I decided to keep it plain and tossed it in a puree of tomatoes, garlic, and onions! Even though the result looks more like a stew than a stir-fry, taste and appearance are both incredible. I might like this one even more!

Got the goods paired with spinach and a cup of brown rice. Yep. Carbs after dark is happening, folks.

Dessert actually turned out to be my middle sister’s leftover vanilla Pressed Freeze! I was so grateful that she allowed me to finish it all, because I am addicted to this stuff. Everything was garnished with goji berries and more pumpkin flax granola, and I took pictures while impatiently waiting for the freeze to thaw out.

Can’t end a perfect vegan anniversary without chocolate, right? Hence, I made some more protein frosting with Nutiva chocolate protein and corn flakes to have on the side! I wouldn’t say that this protein tastes like Nutella, but hey, it does the job. I went to bed, absolutely grateful of everything I’ve had and experienced this day. Happy One-Year to me!

Do you have a perfect week or weekend of eating? What would you celebrate more than once?

What I Ate During the Week of my One-Year Vegan Anniversary dd Hi everybody! I just uploaded a new YouTube video! Woohoo! Vlog #3 essentially captures everything that I did and ate leading up to my one-year vegan anniversary, which was Friday, August 24th, the official day I became vegan and the start of not eating anymore animal products for good!