#where the student is eventually pressured to let go of the fantasies and live in the Real World. cant you see its tearing you apart???

[mizumonohomo]

ok fiiiiine i'll say it. i was mad that Last Night in Soho wasn't toxic yuri. you got me.

[cantuscorvi]

Is there any life philosophy that young Raum has had to let go over the years? Any hopes or dreams Raum used to cling to even in his 20s that he has gradually abandoned or ones that were ripped out from him by force/trauma? Or perhaps opinions/beliefs he had that were crushed by experience? If older Raum, late 30s/early 40s, could say something to his 19yo self, what would it be?

@nezumivc103221

Oh absolutely. A bunch of things that shaped how Raum sees the world actually hit before he reached 20, especially regarding trauma, but you asked about this time period specifically, so I won't mention those here. The development of 20yo to 40yo Raum is like, a problem of just generally being young and stupid. His inexperience, decadence and idealism.

Raum has always had an issue with selfishness and with idealism of his own capabilities. He always wants to have his cake and eat it too. When he was younger — it made him a bit of a fence-sitter. He didn’t really have to think hard, or make any tough choices. He would follow whatever his father told him, and when he decided he didn’t like it, he would run to his uncle instead. He would jump back and forth on that seesaw however it suited him, basically playing them against each other so that he could feel the most comfortable.

Growing up spoiled like this, he was lazy. He had a philosophy that things should be handed to him without having to choose, or to take action. Or, that he could choose both options in any scenario and take advantage without having to lift a finger.

When you don’t commit to anything, then you never lose. Right?

Eventually he even grew fed up of that game of seesaw. He felt alienated by his father and suffocated by his uncle. So what to do? Well, nothing seems to be working out, so you throw it all away and start again.

Raum had an intention to leave his current life (both it's privileges and responsibilities) behind when he was eighteen. Travelling abroad to study seemed like a perfect excuse. Tired of feeling pulled in two directions by his family, and in effort to create distance and rethink the direction of his life, he wanted to take some steps toward independence. At that time, there was some part of him that wanted to disappear. He had an — admittedly, naïve — idea that he could just go to where nobody knew him and try becoming someone else.

A period of experimentation, Raum spent the time in university trying to live as ‘normal’ a life as he could. He studied pretty hard because he was genuinely interested in his subject matter, ( history & conservation) but he also did a lot of drinking, partying, experimentation with sexuality and drugs. In the end, mostly normal student behaviours. After spending a lot of time under the control of others, he went a bit wild when away from their magnifying glass. He had a sense of freedom he hadn’t held before, but also a lack of personal growth. However, he was only able indulge that fantasy life for one year before Friedrich died.

Friedrich’s death essentially threw a grenade on any plans Raum might have had (tentative as they already were) and forced him to take over his position as the head of WC due to the process of his will. He didn’t really have room to refuse, to prevent the company stock from crashing and burning into the ground and everything being saddled under a mountain of debt. It was a time of emotional turmoil and fragility in his life. One where all of that pressure he had been avoiding was put upon his shoulders without warning. He couldn’t escape anything.

In the end, Raum crawled back to Cyrus for guidance on how to pick up the pieces, meanwhile silencing his negative emotions using those hedonistic activities that he had previously only dabbled in. He had to fix what he considered to be a broken company with a severely outdated business model, meanwhile the previous allies had turned into new competitors trying to profit from their potential demise.

In the end, he realised that by not choosing anything to start with, he gave up his free will entirely. Even with how he behaved to avoid his emotions ; he essentially got addicted to escaping. He gave up his opportunity to choose the path in his life. And throughout his twenties, even though it was still something he sometimes wished for, he eventually gave up on the idea of escape. From then on his approach to life totally flipped and he became very proactive about setting targets, making decisions, and taking steps to obtain what he wants.

To be honest, if Raum had to talk to his younger self he would just get so caught up in berating him for being dumb that he wouldn’t be able to offer any important advice LMAO. Hindsight really is 20/20 in this situation, there’s almost no way he could’ve predicted or prepared for what was out of his control. And, the only way Raum could offer any warning is if he knew the circumstances that caused Friedrich to die.

[1kook]

skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf 

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…” 

 Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane. 

 Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot. 

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form. 

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds. 

They were his favorite. 

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this. 

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month. 

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity. 

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings. 

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream. 

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. 

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping. 

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since! 

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind. 

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck. 

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go. 

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen. 

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins. 

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?” 

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world. 

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.” 

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.” 

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here. 

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action. 

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes. 

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high. 

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time. 

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down. 

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.” 

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now. 

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly. 

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist. 

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy. 

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can. 

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck. 

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer. 

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question. 

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. 

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.” 

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides. 

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.  

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry. 

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes. 

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be. 

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest. 

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly. 

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?” 

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign. 

He strikes while the iron is still hot. 

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion. 

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort. 

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months. 

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it. 

Kinda. 

Probably. 

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over. 

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing. 

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders. 

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off. 

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy. 

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face. 

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing. 

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting. 

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.) 

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you. 

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone. 

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more. 

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs. 

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it. 

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him. 

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top. 

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror. 

He’s never seen you like this before. 

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life. 

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips. 

And then something unforgivable happens. 

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information. 

Your hand. 

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness. 

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face. 

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant. 

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.” 

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.” 

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him. 

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him. 

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip. 

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now. 

The sympathy doesn’t last long.  

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams. 

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand. 

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this. 

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches. 

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can���t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are. 

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out. 

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him. 

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead. 

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.” 

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands. 

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!) 

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead. 

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises. 

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock. 

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon. 

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time. 

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.” 

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago. 

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap. 

There was never a choice.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[mystilotls]

Tokyo Soul AU: Chapter one

Song: Cabinet Man

Tw: Implied gore, implied death, violence, shipping

This is for the peeps who don’t watch TS, these chapters are for the plot of this au.

also PLEASEEEEEEE send me asks ( @ask-mystis-aus ) im opening an “ask the characters event with drawn reactions so-

Enjoy, (no grammar check, we fail like men)

Long ago in a dimension where time doesn’t exist, where every up is a down, Where space is irrelevant, and when Cthulhu ruled with his army of demons, inflicting terror and darkness to all.

However, there was one soldier in the army that seemed more powerful than the rest.

This demon went by many names but to mere mortals, he was referred to as Necro. 

Necro could manipulate all, even the dead, Necro could summon anyone or anything at will, Necro possesses all knowledge of any dimension he sets foot in, and most importantly, it is dangerous to make a deal with him. For if you shake his hand, the consequences could be dire.

Demons found Necro’s powers to be too catastrophic and after a long war between them, Necro, and Cthulhu, the demons of the realms were victorious.  

Cthulhu was banished to R’lyeh where he built up the once fallen empire he had.

As for Necro?

Necro was trapped in a spellbook, and to add insult to injury, his prison was labeled as the “Necronomicon”. The Necronomicon was banished to a far void, where it was rare for anyone to even find it.

 Even when the Necronomicon was found, He is forced to share his wisdom of the dimensions he has traveled to and or harmed. He watches as wars break and mass genocide all from trying to obtain him.

 He loves watching but he vows, one day, someone will free him and he will return. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s the book we need!” a voice had exclaimed, it seemed to have belonged to a young man with an accent that is different from his colleagues 

Necro had gotten up from the corner he normally sat in, at first spending unbearable moments with nothing but dribbling fools constantly grabbing your cell and splattering blood of their former friends on you can get irritating, but since there was nobody to bother him, he often learned to meditate and ignore his surroundings.

Until now. 

However, these mortals seem like a change of pace for once. Necro crawled over to where the seeing eye is and looks out to see a bag of flesh grabbing his cover, he tries to remember what lifeform this was and had come to the conclusion that these were creatures from the Earth dimension. Necro never was able to take over this world but he heard stories that the smartest creatures...humans were just as if not more as primitive than the other idiots he had slaughtered like the sacks of meat they are.

These humans seemed like no exception.

Necro looked back and thought this was too easy, none of these fools know what the Necronomicon truly is.  All the easy to watch as they destroy themselves. Just a simple compliment or a simple suggestion and he already knows there is going to be delicious anarchy everywhere. 

Necro watched as he was being held by the obvious animal hybrid of a human and a long-eared rat humans call rabbits.  Necro could easily tell behind the dirty rabbit beanie this mortal calls a disguise.  

“It called the Necronomicon” “good eye, genius” Necro mumbled hearing the echo of the freak holding his book and wonders Since he looks like a freak in his dimension, would he be an easy pawn and not clash with his army.  He eventually got his attention drawn to the young man from before. 

“Oh no, no! No, I’m out” Necro watches from the seeing eye and grins wickedly. This human is smart enough to know his left from his right yet dumb enough to fall for all types of manipulation

He is perfect.

~ Necro groaned listening to them babble on about nothing that interests him. He then chuckled when his “friends” started to insult him. This is just too easy. He had been talking to the rabbit hybrid but his insults were to no avail. Meanwhile the blond, the rabbit had broken him so much that a simple insult or a compliment could make him all his. 

“As ugly as a wart too,” Necro said, loud enough for all of them to hear and he got the blond’s attention. Great, now to add gas to this unstable fire.  

He tries to hide his grin as the rabbit hands over the Necronomicon to the blond. This pawn seemed easier to control since the rabbit is too broken and too wrapped up in his own fantasies, it would just be a waste of time. 

  Necro was grabbed out of his thoughts when he was spat on by the blond. 

“Well that was a bit unnecessary” Necro mumbled

~

 “This is too boring and such a waste of time to try and get out of this damn book,” Necro thought as he just laid in the void. If only he had his actual body, then he could just watch as Cthulhu’s armies could mow down all these useless souls. Watching as they beg for mercy but then vaporate mid-sentence, at least then it would be a little fun. 

He got up and floated around in a sitting position. He thought it was time to try something different

“Take out the nurse. End him” Necro whispered in the blond’s ear. He saw the rabbit’s ears perk up and walk to the other young male.

“The Necronomicon wants us to kill Dr. Nurse, dude!” 

“And you want to listen to a TALKING BOOk” 

Necro sucked air through his teeth, he may not listen to him now but he soon will. He looked through the seeing eye and saw 

Cthulhu, in the body of some sort of walking creature that apparently lives in their water, all he knows is that this animal shouldn’t be walking on land.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grian held the Necronomicon during his date with Silly. It was more of a peer pressure date (he liked Silly in a sisterly way) but he was confused. He thought he was with Taurtis.

 Taurtis comes to his bed every night for cuddles and Tuesdays are a day when they can be all alone, but was Taurtis just using him to relieve tension, just his constant play toy for him to use while he goes dating other girls? 

Taurtis keeps claiming that he is just taking the girl out for a date so she can help him “get his hair back” but the half-shaved head works for Taurtis. However, he is growing his hair back and that’s all that matters.  

Suddenly, this cursed book ripped him away from his thoughts. The Necronomicon had been whispering to Sam yet Grian was the one to have to listen. While Sam went to go get Jorje from Mr. Chupa, Grian looked and saw many shadows of arms grab for Grian’s. They wrapped around him before reaching for his face, cupping his cheek before grabbing for his throat.  His eyes went white as he gasped for air.

Grian screamed before tripping and falling to the floor, panting heavily. Silly had rushed to help him up. He looked at his hands to see the shadows gone and all of the students and Mr. Chupa stare at him in confusion. 

“Grian, are you oka-?” Silly’s gentle question of worry was interrupted when Grian got up and ran upstairs, Silly could see him with eyes of fear and worry. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grian ran into a bathroom stall before slamming the door. He threw the Necronomicon and opened it to see the undecipherable font which is on every page. He growled before ripping the pages right out of the book, ignoring all the pained grunts from the disembodied voice. Using the sound of torn paper to encourage him. 

“Why do you do this, why do you put up with what you do. Cthulhu told me you wanted to go home, that’s not what you really want. I may be a book but I can read you like an open one. You just want respect, You just want to be loved, You want to be wan-”

“SHUT UP!” Grian screamed as he threw the damaged book on the floor, huffing as he glared into the seeing eye which he couldn’t tell if it winked or blinked. 

“I’m not just a book you know” Grian gasped as he heard a whisper right in his ear, nobody was behind him but he could feel a weight on his shoulders as if someone was trying to be comforting. It sent shivers through him as he shook it off. 

“I can give you respect, I can make people listen to you, I can help you get all the power you deserve” Grian pushed against the door. His eyes wide as he tries to get his bearings straight. This isn’t the weirdest thing by a longshot but something about this made him uneasy. He looked down to the seeing eye and saw red. 

“All you need to do is-”

SMASH

Grian stomped on the eye of the book and kept stepping on the cover. He heard a chuckle and soon laughter 

“Well, thats all I need, Thanks for the invite~”

A dark mass appeared from the seeing eye before it rushed into Grian’s lungs. He fell and hit his head on the bathroom floor, passing out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taurtis was starting to be concerned about Grian, he just stopped talking for the rest of the day, he wouldn’t even look at them or let go of the Necronomicon. Taurtis waited for Grian to come out of the bathroom so they could cuddle, he sleeps better on a bed than a mat but he feels more comfortable with another human next to him

Meanwhile, Grian looked at his hands before looking in the mirror, seeing his reflection gaining red pupils and sharp, dagger teeth

“Ah, It feels great to have a body again” Grian chuckled before hearing the bathroom door knock.

[dailybeastarsthings]

Chapter 4 - Can This Day Get Any Worse? 4.1. It's Not Easy Being A Bunny

The school’s cafeteria is one of the main areas where all students can meet with each other without any boundaries. The area was designed to be able to serve all kinds of animals regardless of their species and sizes. The main area was dissected into three larger levels, which looked like platforms. They were bordered by wooden walls planted with succulents and tiny shrubs to create a greener atmosphere. The roof was made out of glass to ensure that natural light can always get inside. In the four corners and the middle of the cafeteria, there were large oak trees planted with decks on multiple branches. This served as the dining area for smaller animals, such as mice, squirrels or songbirds. The tree was specially developed so its leaves would rarely fall, in order to avoid any accidents.

The cafeteria was packed for dinner, as usual. Students lined up at the kitchen ladies, who served them the food. The meals were specially chosen and prepared to satisfy both herbivore and carnivore students. Each day, there were separate meals for carnivores and herbivores. Today, carnivores were given steamed soy beans, egg salad, black bean pastries and milk, while herbivores were given vegetables boiled in soy milk, fruit parfaits and orange juice. Of course, if a carnivore student preferred something from the herbivore menu, they could change their meals and vice versa.

In the mass of animals, there was a small Netherlands dwarf rabbit girl. Her name was Haru. Her fur was pure white with no marks or any other colors. Her eyes were pitch black. One could easily get lost in them, wondering what thoughts were being kept secret behind them. She was quite short even for her species so she wore shoes with thicker soles to add to her height. As she walked along the line, her uniform was flowing in the air.

Today’s dinner is my favorite, I just can’t wait to eat it!” she thought. “Now I just need to find a place to sit.”

She paced the area for free seats and found three tables with free seats. First, she walked up to a female mongoose student.

“I’m sorry, may I sit here?” Haru asked.

“Umm… Sorry, but I’m waiting for my friend” the mongoose replied.

Next, Haru walked up to a feline student, who didn’t even pay much attention to her. It seemed like she recognized her and since the situation was too awkward for her, she just went back to eating without saying anything.

Haru was a bit annoyed, but she still had one option, a group of rabbits.

“Hey, may I sit with you, please?” Haru asked them.

But they were so busy chatting they didn’t even hear her question. Haru’s ears drooped but she wasn’t the type of girl to get upset over a situation like this. She walked outside and sat down on the stairs to enjoy her meal.

“Oh well, I’m sitting alone behind the building but at least the food is delicious” she thought as she was eating her meal in silence. She suddenly heard another student calling for her. It was her roommate, Sally.

“Haru! There you are.”

“Oh, hey, Sally. Are you heading back to the dorm?”

“Well… umm… yeah. Why are you eating your food alone in this place? Don’t you think it’s too dangerous for a small herbivore like you to be alone after the incident?”

“Well… It’s better than eating alone in the cafeteria. Anyway, if you’re so worried about me, why don’t we have dinner together?”

“Oh… Sorry, I can’t. I can’t be seen together with you. Everyone in the school knows what you did.”

“Well, that figures” Haru sighed. “Everyone’s been avoiding eye contact with me for two days now…”

“Mizuchi is really mad about it. Take it from your roommate, okay? Try to act less resilient.”

And with that, Sally walked off without saying goodbye, leaving Haru by herself. Haru lost herself in her thoughts…

“Is it just me? When an animal is as small as I am, their body will sometimes shake uncontrollably from the pressure of their own heartbeat. If I were to just follow my instincts, I would just keel over and never get back up.”

Haru sighed. For the first time, she felt lonely. Yet she was determined to not allow it to get to her and stand up from this situation even stronger. She finished her meal and went to the main building. She still had some homework to do for tomorrow and wanted to finish it in the library. As she was going up the spiral stairs for small animals, a walnut shell fell down in front of her. And then a couple others followed, but this time, they landed straight on her head.

“What the…”

“Oops, my bad! My hand slipped” said a high-pitched voice.

“Did you get hurt?” asked another one.

“Oh, you’re probably fine, aren’t you? No doubt some boy will come running to save you!” a third added.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine” Haru replied. “Nothing you do can hurt me.”

Haru continued her walk up the stairs, trying to ignore the laughs of the other three girls, but she suddenly came face to face with them. It was Mizuchi and her two allies, a black cat and a raccoon. Mizuchi was a harlequin rabbit and a pretty popular student in Cherryton. If anyone, she could completely destroy someone’s reputation with a gossip in just a few days’ time.

“I guess all of your friends are ignoring you…” she said. “And yet, you’re still holding out quite well. But you do understand your situation don’t you? No one wants to deal with you” she said with the most satisfied smile on her face.

Haru didn’t mind the harsh words Mizuchi threw at her just now. She picked up one of the walnut shells and threw it at her.

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t have time to deal with you or your little friends so bye” Haru said while passing the others without even looking at them.

“Hey! I’m not finished with you!” Mizuchi yelled.

“If you’ve got enough time to spread rumors about me, you surely have enough time to make up with your boyfriend.”

“You have no right to say that! You’re the one who split us up in the first place!”

“I’m sorry, but he’s the one who kissed me. I don’t know what you were told and I don’t really care either” Haru said while turning around with a smug look on her face. “Still, a buck who’d get infatuated over a little kiss isn’t worth much if you ask me.”

And that was it. Right then and there, Mizuchi was destroyed and she knew it. The frustration caused her two-toned face to turn completely red. She picked up the janitor’s water bucket and threw the water at Haru, who fell to the ground.

“Listen well. We were a harlequin rabbit couple. Harlequin rabbits are an endangered species. We’re on a completely different league with obvious pedigree. And yet you, a plebian dwarf rabbit, went and destroyed that couple! How dare you! We’re going to spread rumors that you’re messing with other male students as well.”

Haru was not surprised by Mizuchi’s reaction but she was still a bit upset. Her clothes and fur were dripping wet and the other three were laughing at her.

“Let’s go girls” Mizuchi said. “You should really pick yourself up from the floor, Haru. Or don’t. It suits you anyway.”

And with that, the terrible trio was finally gone. Their footsteps echoed in the corridor for a few moments but with each passing second, they became quieter. Haru stood up and looked at herself. Her clothes were dripping wet. Fortunately, the water didn’t get into her bag, so at least her schoolwork was safe. She looked for the nearest restroom and walked inside. She went inside one of the stalls, closed the door and hung her dress on the door. She sat on top of the toilet seats and started the rest of her homework.

“Well, it’s not the library but at least no one should bother me here” she thought.

It didn’t take Haru to finish her school work. She completed an essay and two multiple choice exercises and was ready to go. She reached out for her uniform, which was almost completely dry. She got dressed, exited the stall and washed her hands.

“I don’t want to go back to the dorm yet… I’ll just spend some time around the back of the gym” she thought.

She looked in the mirror and took a good look at herself.

“When males see this face, they start to approach me thinking »I want to help her« or »I want to protect her«… But when they realize that I’m different from their fantasies, they use me and eventually leave. Right… The winners of this world are the animals who live by their feral instincts. I was destined to be a loser. I lived a life of being used as fodder for other animals.”

It was already late when Haru exited the main building. It was really quiet all over the school and only a few lights were on in the dorms. A thin layer of mist was resting lightly on the ground, deterring from Haru’s way as she took her steps towards the gym. It almost felt to her like even the mist didn’t want to touch her anymore. She reached the gym and headed towards the fountain in front of it.

Haru was always mesmerized by the dancing water. She didn’t know why, but she enjoyed looking at it for hours, enjoying the sight of the little drops being painted into colorful gems by the surroundings or silver tears by the moonlight. It was a place where she could calm herself down in all cases – exams, arguments, family life… But the peace and harmony didn’t feel the same this time. She felt as if someone was watching her. She heard a rustle from the gym’s entrance.

“Someone’s here. But who could it be? Do they know who I am? Do they want to hurt me? Or… can it be the one who killed that alpaca?”

She heard the rustle once again… The other one moved closer to her… Tears started to flow from Haru’s eyes. Her legs were trembling. She wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t move – they were heavy as stones.

“I’ll let you have me… But please… Just once in my pathetic life…Give me a reason to run away in fear… Give me a reason to cry in fear… Give me a reason to value my life…”

With all these thoughts in her head, she started running towards the arches. She couldn’t even make two steps though when she could feel her body being grabbed by large hands with sharp claws… She was trapped. And yet, she felt completely calm.

“Could you understand what valuing your life is?” she thought. “He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t have to. I can feel that his desires resonate with mine. I’m just glad they are not here to see me like this…”

[always-anxious612]

Magic in the Air: Chapter 1

Description: In a world where magic exists everywhere and most people have it in one way or another, six friends are left without it. Still, they can’t help but dream for the chance to cast spells and charms on their own. Too bad dreams like that don’t come true...do they?

Parings: eventual roceit, eventual analogical, eventual intruality, platonic DRLAMP

Warnings: food mention (please let me know if I missed any or if you want something tagged)

Word Count: 1,608

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Magic. It used to be something only in fairytales. Just a fantasy thought up by a storyteller. A dream for the dreamers, an inspiration for the writers, a muse for the artists. But now, magic was everywhere. No one really remembered how it was discovered, or who it was who first started normalizing its use in everyday life, but it had been around long enough for it to be incorporated into everything. The very roots of the trees held it, cultivated by decades of growth and nutrition spells. Magic had invaded every nook of modern society, nestling itself in as if magic had always been there. And maybe it had.

Most everyone enjoyed being able to benefit from pre-made cleaning charms and special-made foods and drinks with different helpful spells (to give you energy, warmth, a sense of peace, etc). Very few held no magic at all; whether their skills lay in charms, spells, or potions, most everyone had some sort of magic ability.

Among the few who had no magic were six high-school friends, now college housemates: Logan Crofters, Patton Hart, Virgil Storm, Dee Black, and the twins Roman and Remus Prince. They had, of course, given up on the hope of developing magic abilities a long time ago. Everyone knew that if you didn’t develop magic as a child, it was basically impossible to learn it later on. But, naturally, the six couldn’t help but dream about a day when they’d be able to perform spells and charms; maybe even gain a “special skill” that didn’t need a spell to work, unique to their personalities. Too bad dreams like that don’t come true…

Roman Prince sighed happily as he made his way home from class, a cup of hot coffee in his hand. He was glad that he had remembered to add the heating charm to his order this time (keeping his coffee hot hours longer than it normally would); otherwise, he’d have had to throw it away by now. At the thought he sighed once again, this time more in longing than in happiness. Here he was, living in a modern-day fairy-tale, and he couldn’t even perform magic! It didn’t matter that none of his five housemates could either, or that he got along just fine without doing magic; he still wished for something more. Just think of the possibilities; what if he could cast heating spells and cleaning charms himself? As he neared the front door of his house, however, he shook himself from these thoughts. There was no time to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. At least not right now. Right now, Roman had a project to work on.

For weeks now, Roman had been working on designing the perfect prop for a special contest they were holding at his university. Basically, it was to promote the upcoming play (and get non-theatre students more interested in coming to watch it). Everyone who entered was told to design the same prop and was given a picture of what it should approximately look like (an intricate looking book that Roman knew was a key part of the play since he was in it). The best-designed prop would be featured and used in the play, and Roman was almost done!

Naturally, such a contest was perfect for him. You see, Roman hadn’t gotten much of a chance to show off his art skills recently, since he devoted most of his time to his actual major…acting. But he did have them—art skills that is. At least, he’d like to think he had art skills. Waving a short hello to Dee, Logan, and Patton, who were all in the kitchen, he headed up to his room and got to work.

“Roman? Supper’s ready, kiddo.” A voice (most definitely Patton’s) called from the other side of Roman’s closed door a couple hours later. However, Roman only muttered out a short response, too engrossed in his work to realize he was speaking too quietly for Patton to hear. He felt a certain passion as he worked, putting special attention into even the tiniest details, too focused to notice time slipping away. Even if he didn’t win, it felt so good to create something again. He had almost forgotten how much fun it was to craft props; to see something he worked so hard to create finally start to look like the picture in his head. He felt a weird, fuzzy feeling start to grow in his chest as he continued. However, too engrossed to acknowledge the growing feeling, he continued with his project until another knock rang throughout his room.

“Hey, bro bro! Patton sent me to get you. Your food is getting cold!” Remus yelled from the other side. Roman sighed, feeling the pleasant warm feeling fade as he attempted to ignore his brother.

“Ro, if you don’t come out, I’ll tell Dee Dee your little secret~” Remus sang, finally making Roman groan and stand.

“Don’t you dare.” He grumbled, swinging open his door.

“What’s that? You dare me?” Remus smirked, backing away slowly. Roman narrowed his eyes at the other.

“Remus…” he warned glaring. Remus stuck out his tongue out at Roman before turning and barreling back down the hall. Already expecting it, Roman was hot on his heels as they careened into the kitchen, startling the four others at the dining table.

“Dee-”, Remus yelled, just before Roman clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Um, you guys good?” Virgil spoke up, raising an eyebrow at the brothers.

“Absolutely fi—Remus, gross!” Roman exclaimed, cutting himself off when he felt a warm slimy thing touch his hand. Remus stuck his tongue out at his brother, before slinking off to take his seat between Virgil and Logan. Roman eyed his brother warily as he wiped his saliva-covered hand on his jeans, taking his own place between Virgil and Dee. Diligently ignoring Dee’s questioning gaze, Roman instead cleared his throat and addressed the table.

“Um, sorry to keep everyone waiting.” he apologized, watching Patton heat up everyone’s food. “I got caught up in my work.”

“It’s no problem, kiddo. Just make sure you’re taking breaks!” Patton replied in his normal cheery manner as he set everyone’s dinner in front of them. As soon as the plate was set down, Roman started to gulp down his food as fast as he could.

“Whoa, kiddo, slow down. We have movie night tonight, so there’s no rush.” Patton reminded him, furrowing his eyebrows. Roman managed to swallow his half-chewed mouthful before sighing. It’s not that he didn’t want to spend “family time” (as Patton had dubbed the time all 6 spent together after getting home). After all, that meant more time Dee. Er, not that Roman cared about that. Or, well, not to say he didn’t enjoy spending time with the others, just not with Dee specifically. Well, yes, with Dee, but just as much as he enjoyed spending time with anybody else… Um, anygay, he was just so close to finishing his project!

“I’m sorry, Padre, but I’ll have to pass on movie night. I’m almost done with my prop!” Patton frowned in disappointment, making a touch of guilt rise in Roman’s gut. He had ranted about this project enough for the rest of the household to know that the prop wasn’t actually due for another two days. Technically, he would have time to finish it later, but he was feeling inspired now. He couldn’t very well put inspiration on hold.

“Roman.” A silky voice spoke up next to him. Roman turned to find Dee gazing at him, tilting his head in the most adorable way he had ever seen. Wait no, not adorable. He certainly didn’t think Dee was adorable and of course he didn’t have crush on the sneaky little—

“Ro,” Dee purred again, a suspicious smile tugging at his lips. “Why don’t you tell us about your prop? I’m sure we’d all love to hear about it.”

“You—really?” Roman asked, lighting up. Dee nodded somewhat fondly after shooting a glare at Virgil, who tried to suppress a groan. Vaguely, Roman wondered if this was just a trick to get Roman to talk long enough to forget he had been working and come to movie night… this method of Dee’s may or may not have worked a few times before. But when Dee gave him an encouraging (although somehow still sneaky-looking) smile, Roman melted, launching into how his work had been going so far.

As he continued, he grew more and more passionate, remembering how much hard work he’d put into the prop so far. He spoke of how he meticulously planned the book’s shape and color scheme before sketching it multiple times; about constructing the base, about painting it, about the details he was still working on adding. As his passion grew, so did the warm fuzzy feeling that had dwindled to almost nothing during dinner. It grew so intense that not even waving his hands around, like he normally did when he was excited, dispelled the energy. Instead, he got up, beginning to pacing as he talked, still adamantly using his hands. As he did this, the pressure finally eased slightly, not quite fading, but instead becoming a steady constant.

In fact, Roman was so busy pacing, so focused on his passionate rant and the fuzzy feeling it brought, that he didn’t notice the others frantically calling his name until Logan grabbed his arm rather forcefully. Roman was about to protest at the tight grip (“Geez, Lo, overboard much?”) when he realized what everyone was yelling about. All around him, everything was… floating.

Taglist: @catolicabuena

[jenniferdiazisatransgirl]

Different Experiences

Hi everyone, So this is more a thought than a theory but it is linked to my “Amity’s Parents” theory. Basically, I suspect Amity’s parents won’t be accepting of the fact she is a lesbian and that combined with her choice of partner - Luz, a human - could see her being kicked out of her parental home.

I kinda want this to happen. While Disney has only just began to delve into LGBT representation, in shows such as “Andi Mack” and “High School Musical: The Musical: The Series” we have situations where everyone is very supportive and no one bats an eyelid. In “SVTFOE”, while Marco was never expressly confirmed as trans it is safe to say the Diazs would have been accepting of them. I don’t think anyone in the “SVTFOE” fandom would disagree with me there. And while this is all representative of an ideal world, it isn’t necessarily representative of reality.

Due to my Mum not accepting me, I ran away from home at 17. This wasn’t me being impulsive. The local authority I live in, the LGBT youth group I went to and my Catholic school all agreed I needed to be removed from my Mum’s care when I was 15. The process took 2 years and I was eventually moved into a bedsit. My present roommate similarly had to runaway from her parental home. I sadly know the reality of what it is like when your parents don’t accept you, all to well.

Now Disney, has lately been pretty good at exploring difficult issues. For example in “Andi Mack”, you had Andi finding out her “sister” Bex is in fact her mother and her “parents” are in fact her grandparents.

LGBT representation is great but I think it has to be representative of different experiences. Being LGBT isn’t easy in the present day and for Disney to paint it that way would be wrong. The society we live in makes it difficult.

And I think “The Owl House” is in a great position to show two sides of the LGBT experience. Unaccepting parents and accepting parents.

We have two canonically confirmed LGBT characters in “The Owl House”. Luz is confirmed by Dana Terrace to be bisexual and Amity, the show speaks for itself regarding her but Dana also confirms she is intended to be a lesbian.

While Luz’s mom may have sent her off to camp, it is pretty evident what she has done, has come from a place of love. She wants Luz to not be too buried in fantasy to the point that she can’t tell the difference between that and reality. Overall, from what I have seen of Luz’s mom so far, I think she would accept Luz with open arms. And I may revise my view on this in future but I think that is what will happen. And hey look, I guess there is a theory in all this. As I said, I just write and see what comes out XD

However, I think with Amity’s parents we will get a very different reaction. We have two people who seem very bogged down in status and maintain a particular image. They already seem very adverse to difference. And Amity has an entire hideout in the library, which say what you will, to me suggests a home life where she doesn’t feel comfortable having much expression of herself. In fact I may rewatch an “Enchanting Grom Fight” and “Lost in Language” to analyse the differences between Amity’s room at home and Amity’s hideout in the library. Because I suspect there are some rather extreme differences. I maybe wrong however.

And from my perspective, Amity’s parents also strike me as sinister and they are very evidently controlling. @ultraobsidian also recently shared with me a theory, that she suspects Amity’s parents provided Lilith the curse that she placed on Eda. She points out, during the fight to join the Emperor’s Coven there are two individuals in the crowd matching Amity’s parents description and they are smiling as if everything is going to plan.

So you also have two very controlling people, who have a clearly laid out plan. They are also controlling in the fact that Amity is forced to dye her hair cos her mom likes her children to match.

Also I wonder how much of it is Amity’s plan to join the Emperor’s Coven and how much of it is her parents expectations. She expresses way back in “Convention” how hard she has to work at her craft, how much pressure is upon her. How she has to go down this path.

I wonder if Amity’s parents have the same expectations about her future relationship. Maybe they already have a boy at Amity’s school in mind, who is of the right social standing and status. Oh God, I could easily see it being Mattholomule. I mean the wikia does say this about him, “a power-hungry student at Hexside. He has a history with breaking rules and getting detention often, leading to him being transferred out of his old school. Mattholomule has little interest in having real friends, and finds no problem with lying to fellow students, as long as it gets him what he wants, but he gets worried whenever there is a chance his lying could backfire or fail.”

While on the surface he may not seemingly fit this ideal person who Amity’s parents would look at as a potential suiter for their daughter. We know little about his parents and their social standing and taking from another show here, I watch “Gilmore Girls” a lot and there are throughout that, entitled rich kids such as Tristan and Logan and co who go through these patterns of being expelled from schools and transferred. And the power-hungryness, with a lil training and guidance, maybe he could be the ideal person that Amity’s parents have in mind for their daughter.

And let’s picture that everything I have said here is on the money and I think it is safe to say it is, Amity’s parents have made it clear they are willing to go to extreme lengths to maintain a certain image for their daughter, even threatening a child - Willow. These don’t seem like very adaptable people and diversion from the plan, like Amity coming out as a lesbian and being in love with a human of all creatures. Oh, I do not see her parents going, “Oh Amity, that’s great and we will always love you.” In fact if what @ultraobsidian has said is correct, I could easily see them saying, “Amity Blight! You put a stop to this nonsense now or we will make sure that human never casts a spell again.” And that I could imagine very well coming in the form of a curse.

And for now, I’m out of steam and I’m done, but my mind is still twirling with thoughts of this right now. I don’t think I’m done talking about Amity’s parents. The more I write about them, the more terrifying I find them as individuals. I could quite easily see them being main antagonists at some point in the future and you know, some theories about that are developing in my mind. So stay tuned.

[edelweiss123]

It still baffles me...

...that the writers of a kid's show who were willing to blatantly address various heavy topics on-screen such as revenge, war, torture, racism, famine, sexism, ableism, child abuse, abandonment, and fucking GENOCIDE, with gravity and aplomb...

...still somehow thought that "literal 12-year-old doesn't end up with his first crush" would be a deal-breaker.  Like...?

Okay.  First, a disclaimer.  I am a die-hard Zutara shipper. I'm also really fond of MaiLee and Taang, independent of that, and really don't care for Maiko, but that's topic for a different post.  None of the points I’m going to go over have anything to do with those pairings.

But EVEN IF I didn't feel that there were far better canon characters for Katara and Aang to end up with respectively...

Kataang, as it is written in canon, is sad and weird and uncomfortable to me, and here's why:

The Dynamic

Maybe if the characters had been, say, 16 and 18 when they first met, this wouldn't be a problem.  But Aang is 12 and Katara's 14.  And their maturity gap is far larger than a mere two years.

Aang, despite being well traveled and the burden of Avatarhood on his shoulders, is also a very *young* 12.  Remember, up until the iceberg, he's lived a pretty idyllic, mostly responsibilty free life.  He's only known he was the Avatar for like, a month, tops, before that.  Sure, the other monk children don't play with him after this reveal, but it's well established he has friends all over the globe; he's a prodigy, yes, with all the pressure that can bring, but it doesn't appear he was pushed to master air so fast?  He just very much enjoys airbending.  And Gyatso is a loving guardian.

Which is why he runs away at the first sign of something difficult in his life--the possibility of losing Gyatso.

Compare this to Katara, who was born in a hostile landscape amongst a struggling people.  She is, as far as she knows, the last of her kind, with no teacher to guide her.  She suffers a traumatic loss young, and it is *explicitly stated in the show* that she stepped up to fill her mother's shoes at what, 7? 8? While her family grieved.  Her father leaves, possibly to never return, when she is 11.  She is laden with responsibility beyond her years.  Her time and energy are not for her to spend on herself--she has too much to do.  *She is not a child*

So of *course* she starts mothering this wide-eyed cheerful boy, who got taken away by the same people who murdered her mother within a day of meeting him.  He's the Avatar but he's also an innocent kid in need of protection and care.

Now, does that mean she never acts immature?  No--she *is* still a teenager, and prone to occasional bouts of typical teenager dumbassery. (see: waterbending scroll).  But she does most of the chores and nags the others about their misbehavior and tries to console them when when they're down. She literally poses as Aang's mother at a PTA meeting.  For fucks sake, at the end of Season 2, when she's holding a dead Aang sprawled in her arms and looking pleadingly at the sky, there is NO WAY you can convince me all those art students storyboarding that scene WEREN'T making an intentional reference to *La Pieta*--You know, that super famous statue where Mary is cradling her dead Savior son (before he gets resurrected) and that is widely considered one of the most poignant examples of MOTHERLY LOVE AND GRIEF in the whole WORLD.

And I don't know about you... but it's really, really creepy to me for a *romantic* relationship to result from something with that much mother/son energy deliberately coded into the show.

The Lack Of Development

At what point does Katara reciprocate the crush? It's very well established that Aang has a crush, of course.  But we've got 61 episodes and basically no definitive evidence that Katara feels anything for Aang beyond platonic affection.  There's the time a fortune teller says she'll marry a powerful bender and she's like, 'huh' (let's ignore the fact that Aang at the time is like the only powerful bender she really knows).  There's the time she (almost?) kisses Aang in a cave because, you know, she thinks they might stay lost forever and starve to death if she doesn't (romantic!)  

The other two times Aang kisses her--she's just kind of shocked after the first one, and gets mad after the second one because she *had just expressed a desire to not do so seconds before*  And the fourth kiss is in the literal last 30 seconds of the show, with no dialogue, no lead-up, just a fade to black "welp this is happening, aaaand, SCENE."  It very, very much has the feeling of "hero gets the prize/girl" instead of "two people who have been mutually longing for each other come together", and that's really, really gross to me.  It does such a disservice to both their characters, but Katara's especially.  It feels like she had no agency in this result, that they got together because Aang wanted it so much, but it matters so little what she wanted that we don’t even need to bother showing her wanting it.

The Stunting/Regression of Character Growth

What does Aang sacrifice? The answer?  Nothing.  'Now, wait a minute', I can hear you say, 'he lost his entire people and culture!  How can you say he's lost nothing!'  I didn't say he's never suffered *loss*.  But having something taken away from you and giving something up for another's sake are two entirely different things.  Aang, in the end, gets everything he wanted--the girl he wanted, his pacifist morals intact and unchallenged, his culture eventually restored.  Hell, he even somehow gets the Avatar State, despite never explaining how he manages it when it was EXPLICITLY STATED he couldn't do so without letting go of certain attachments.  Wow, guess it turns out he never needed to sort out all of his emotional trauma to acheive inner peace and enlightenment after all--just needed a good acupressure session to get those chakras flowin'! One quick magic whack to the back!

I don't think 'the hero is always right' is a good message.  The theme of 'just because you want something doesn't necessarily mean it's what's good for you, or others' is a pretty recurring theme throughout the rest of the show, and having the universe warp itself to accomodate the beliefs of the protagonist  (lookin' at you, deus-ex-machina turtle) so he is always right, no matter what, means that he never has to reevaluate his beliefs, never really has to *grow* as a character.  

Kya, Ursa, Yue, Iroh, Hakoda, Katara, Sokka, Zuko--hell, even Toph, who makes the decision to let Appa get taken so she can save her friends...

Over and over it's shown that Love is Sacrifice, and I think Aang should have been shown making some personal sacrifices for the sake of the world, instead of showing that the power of clinging to his absolutist morals is enough to solve all his problems.

I understand why the writers, despite showing many characters die off-screen, hesitated to show Aang killing someone, even someone unredeemably evil, because there would be no way to do it OFF screen, and it IS still a kid's show.  (On that note:  couldn’t they have just somehow...idk, trapped Ozai in the Spirit World or something?  Have him literally sent to not-hell?)  

BUT, that doesn't mean they couldn't have shown Aang doing something that made him realize that, as the Avatar, even if a necessary action went against his personal beliefs or wasn't what he wanted, his needs are superceded by the needs of the world he claims to love.  He ignores this in S2 and nearly pays the ultimate price... but it's never properly addressed again. And thus, because that never happens, I honestly don't consider 13-yr-old Aang all that much more mature than 12-yr-old Aang, and I think that's a waste of potential.  

And as for character regression...

Katara? Master Waterbender and war-hero?  Who grabbed onto the first opportunity to explore the world beyond her tiny home, who fought for every scrap of skill and recognition she had--against a world determined to see her as lesser because of her race, her gender, her age?  Who never backed down from what she thought was right, even when her own family and friends didn't support her?  You're telling me that, according to canon, *that same Katara* was perfectly content to retreat to the South Pole and do nothing of note for the next 70 years except for being a good little housewife and healer?  Get the fuck out of here with that misogynistic horseshit.

IN CONCLUSION

I could go on.  I could talk about the unequal division of emotional labor between the two--with Katara constantly having to be mindful of not upsetting Aang too much lest he fly away and/or have an Avatar State tantrum.  With Katara constantly reassuring Aang, but Aang, for instance, offering unsolicited advice about revenge instead of trying to understand what she needed, or kissing her without asking--twice!--and expecting them to be together without him ever even asking if that's what she wanted. ��I could talk about Katara not taking Aang to task for things he does wrong and Aang not being willing to see that Katara isn't perfect--how he puts her on a pedastal and Katara is afraid to leave it and break his illusions by being her real self.

But ultimately, what it boils down to, it that the most unrealistic thing about AtLA was not the magic, or the spirits, or the hybrid animals.

No, the most unbelievable thing about this show is that the ending was ruined just because more than creating a consistent thematic and emotional throughline, a couple of white dudes wanted to vicariously live out all of their "hot-for-babysitter" childhood fantasies.

And that's all I have to say about that.

[mhdiaries]

13 Wishes Twyla Diary

The Sixth of September

When you spend your unlife living in the shadows you get used to seeing things that are missed and missing things that are seen. Lately though, I feel like I’m missing more than I’m seeing, like today, for instance. There is a little garden cemetery not far from Monster High where I like to go and contemplate the simple joys of monsterhood. It has a little fountain with a park bench and a simply ginormous creeping willow tree. It’s like a giant umbrella that casts the most amazing shadows. Most of the time I am the only monster there except on Wednesday when a group of troll ladies show up to play bridge. Anyway, I was sitting in my usual spot today with my back to the tree facing away from the fountain. I heard footsteps and voices approaching. I thought it was probably some monsters coming to pay their ghast respects and I didn’t want to disturb them, so I just sat still. If I am in the shadows and I do not move or open my eyes I cannot be seen. As the footsteps got closer I recognized the voices - it was Lagoona and Gil. They were arguing about something and they stopped right next to the fountain. Now I could have just stepped from the shadow I was in to a shadow somewhere else, but I didn’t. I stayed because I’m a bad monster. I am not going to write down what they said though, because if some other monster ever reads this it’d be like betraying a trust. But I was sad the rest of the day over what I heard. They are both so sweet and make such a great couple that I had no idea they were facing such outside pressure on their relationship. I guess I was looking but not seeing. I really wish they could get this problem resolved, but some things can’t be wished away, only worked through. Eventually Gil left, but Lagoona stayed a little bit longer. She sat for a while, and I could hear her crying. I guess at that point I wanted so much to just run over and hug her, but I couldn’t. I know, I know, I’m a terrible monster, but I didn’t know what to do. That’s not true, I mean the terrible monster part is, but I should have just gone over and given her a hug...epic fail. I waited a bit after Lagoona left and then I left too.

The Tenth of September

Being able to jump from one shadow to another without having to step into the light means that I can avoid talking to other monsters if I don’t want. It’s not that I don’t like other monsters, but I feel kind of awkward sometimes, like maybe I’ll say or do something wrong and embarrass myself. I remember I’d been at MH for a while but I hadn’t really made any friends. Not because the other students hadn’t been nice to me, they were, I just always sort of disappeared before I let them get too close. I remember the day that I got cornered, literally. I was sitting by myself in the very back corner of the creepateria at a table underneath a burned out light that was casting a nice big shadow. I was just eating my lunch and watching when Howleen started walking my way. I sat still knowing that she wouldn’t be able to see me but I didn’t want to leave either cause I was hungry. So she came over and sat right down across from me. She sniffed a couple times and said, “PB&J?” “Eww cam seef me?” I answered with a mouth full of sandwich. “Nah, but I can smell you.” “Nobway!” “Of course I can, I’m a werewolf, and the nose knows. You smell like dust and strawscarry jam.” I started to excuse myself, but Howleen asked me not to, “I really don’t feel like eating lunch by myself - would you mind hanging out?” So I didn’t disappear, I stayed and I made a friend for unlife plus I didn’t embarrass myself even once. #WinWin

 The First of October

Usually Dustin meets me at the door when I get home from school, but he wasn’t waiting for me today. I called for him but he didn’t come. I checked all his usual hiding places: under the bed, behind the doors, in all the corners, but he was nowhere to be found. I started to get worried. I even went outside to look, although he hasn’t been out on his own since the day a big wind flew him into the blackscary brambles. I went back inside and was just about to start making lost posters to hand out around the neighborhood when I heard thump scratch - thump scratch - thump scratch. I looked up and there was Dustin, covered in glitter, double stick tape and beads. He had taken a nap in my craft box, and the end from a roll of necklace wire had wrapped around his foot while the spool had gotten stuck in the box. I would have taken a picture with my iCoffin, but he just looked so pitiful. It took me two hours to get him all cleaned up. I’ll have to save dryer lint for a week to patch all the bare places.

The Fifteenth of October

I went to Howleen’s house for a sleep over. It was cool getting to know her family. I mean I’d seen Clawd and Clawdeen around school, but this was the first time I really officially met them. I wish now I hadn’t waited so long because I feel like I missed out on some good times being so shy. I also got to meet another one of Howleen’s sisters. Her name is Clawdia and she’s going to college in Londoom. She actually wasn’t “there” so we talked to her online with video chat. She is studying to be a writer. She’s really funny and she had everybody in the house cracking up about what it’s like living in Londoom. Clawdeen left and went to fang out with Draculara and Frankie at Frankie’s house, so Howleen and I stayed up late talking. We’ve got like tons in common, we like the same TV shows, the same music - Catty Noir ‘natch, the same kind of styles and we even think the same boys are cute. The one thing that we don’t see eye to eye on is the need to be popular. I don’t care if I am and Howleen feels like is she isn’t she’ll disappear in the shadows of her older siblings. I told her that living in the shadows wasn’t all that bad, but she was totally focused on being in the spotlight. Eventually though she got out of her funk, and we spent the rest of the night watching movies. We had a scary cool time, and I can’t remember when I have ever laughed so hard. When Howleen fell asleep I snuck out and grabbed a late nightmare snack. I got back before morning and woke up to the smell of banana scary pancakes and bacon coming from the Wolf’s kitchen. So much fun and so happy to have a friend! Maybe I’ll try and spend a little more time out of the shadows from now on...maybe.

The Twenty-fifth of October

Most monsters stay away from normies as much as they can, my family not so much. We have what my dad calls a “symbiotic relationship” with normies, only they don’t know it. They think the Boogeyman hangs out under beds and in their closets to scare them, but that’s not it at all. We are “dream eaters” -- well, nightmare eaters, actually. We hide in the shadows and watch for them; then when we see one we pounce! It’s why our eyes glow in the dark so we can see the dreams. Of course we can’t see what’s in the dreams, we recognize them by color. Yellow for happiness, red for action, blue for flying, green for fantasy and lots of in between colors and shades that mix different kind of dreams together. Nightmares are the color of storm clouds, all grey-black and menacing. I only wish my dreams could be pounced on, too, but it doesn’t work that way for us. I dreamed a dream last night that I was on a frightly lit stage in front of the whole school. I was supposed to give a speech and I forgot the topic, so I just stood there looking for a shadow to hide, but there weren’t any. Then every monster started laughing at me. I turned to run and tripped off the stage, which was suddenly at the top of a very tall tower and I was falling an falling and falling. Then I was back on the stage again, and every monster in the audience was giving me a standing ovation. I looked behind me, and there were a panel of judges holding up scorecards.

9.5   9.5   10.0   9.5   4.0

So I started arguing with the judge who gave me the 4.0 and she told me that I flapped my arms too much as I was falling. Then I woke up. I told my dad about it, and he said it was probably just something I ate. Dads are so weird. 

The Twenty-eighth of October

Howleen is not enjoying her popularity as much as she thought she would, and there are shadows in places where they should not be. I am worried, and no monster seems to be listening to me. I must find a monster that will.

[laureviewer]

Persona 5 Royal: A Review

It’s finally time to review one of my all-time favourite games.

I first played Persona 5 around 3 years ago, and I’ve really grown since then in a few ways. A few thoughts before I begin: a) since my first playthrough, JRPGs have cemented themselves as one of my favourite types of games; b) I don’t hate all turn-based RPGs except Pokémon anymore!; c) after my first playthrough I went to Japan, and as Persona 5 is set in Tokyo, playing Royal was a lot of fun as I knew a lot of the locations, which meant I could dive into the setting deeper than the first time; and d) my 250 hours of playtime in total across both playthroughs can most likely be attributed to the incredible writing and masterful character development.

Warning: HEAVY story spoilers

I’m not trying to sell you a game. I want to give you an in-depth analysis of the story, characters, gameplay and all other aspects of this brilliant game, spoilers and all. I want a discussion. So, dive in and see what I really thought, no holds barred.

The Silence is Deafening

‘…’ – a direct quote from our protagonist, there. Our silent hero, codename Joker, is a victim of circumstance. Wrongfully accused of assault by a mysterious man who is angered that a kid prevented him from forcing a woman into his car et al., he must move away from his hometown to wait out his probation period and live a normal student life. Why must he live above a failing café under the guardianship of the cranky owner? Not to mention: why is he banished to Tokyo of all places, somewhere very likely much more exciting than wherever his hometown is?

Either way, Joker isn’t going to tell you. He’s quiet and lets the other many, many other characters do the talking for him—a usual trope of JRPGs, but it is still an issue as he is also put on a pedestal as an incredibly special, talented, empathetic and all-round great guy. He’s the only one capable of saving the world, as he has abilities no-one else has, for some reason.

But this isn’t as bad as I’m making it out to be. Sure, it doesn’t really make sense why you have such a huge following when you don’t have much of a personality, but that’s the beauty of the silent protagonist. You, the player, are the protagonist. The fact that you can even put your own name in as his name is telling. You make the decisions, you make the friends, and you carve out your own destiny from the choices you make. It’s always these kinds of games that, when I talk to my friends, I say ‘I messed up with Sojiro’ or ‘I went to the arcade today’—and it is me. Because even though I’m not a woefully silent Japanese male teenager with glasses, for the time I’m playing Persona 5, I am.

So, you are the protagonist. You learn that there are mental shutdowns all over Tokyo, making people go crazy and kill lots of people, such as a conductor crashing his train, or simply killing people on the spot. It’s weird, but what can you do? You’re just a student with his own problems: not only do many of the students avoid you because you are a delinquent, but the volleyball coach, Kamoshida, seems to be harassing students, from the ones on his team who seem terrified of him, to girls that are being hit on. When a strange app appears on your phone, you accidentally find yourself in the metaverse, along with Ryuji, who also has a good reason to get revenge on Kamoshida.

I Am Thou, Thou Art I

What teenager doesn’t have a rebellious self hidden deep within their subconscious? Well, these teens can utilise that hidden self past its usual constraints to overcome the crappy adults that suppress them and make detrimental decisions for them. Once Joker and Ryuji, and later many other young adults, realise this potential and recognise that these adults need to be stopped, they are awakened to their Personas. A Persona is a manifestation of a persona user’s personality, which the individual can use to face hardship and overcome injustice, even if just in the Metaverse, the collective unconscious world.

But, really, there’s no ‘just’ about it. Here in this world, which take the form of Palaces, the Phantom Thieves (you and your friends) can defeat the ruler of the Palace (the adult with a distorted desire) to convince them to change their heart. In this way, the ‘real’ them in the real world will atone for their actions and justice can be served. So, really, your actions are vital to solving crimes, dealing justice and, eventually, saving the world.

These Personas are like Pokémon for adults. You are special, as you can catch and wield multiple Personas, allowing you to have a whole array of powers, but your friends have one that they train and evolve throughout the course of the story. Catching them is a skill: you have to learn their weakness, and use a skill that takes advantage of it to ‘down’ the Persona. This gives you a chance to either: perform an ‘all out’ attack which sees all your allies fight them at once for increased damage; ask them for money or an item; or negotiate with them to convince them to become a part of you (and thus catch them for use later). This gets harder when there are multiple different Personas to battle at once, all with different weaknesses and strengths that means you must time your combat precisely to ‘down’ them at the same time.

Personas are one of the best parts of the game, as you can see.

Not happy with a persona’s moves, or you want to create stronger ones? Go to the Velvet Room, where Igor and the Twin Wardens Justine and Caroline will fuse two or more Personas together to create new ones.

This is where the Pokémon element is better and worse. You can get completely new and stronger Personas immediately, which is cool, but if you are particularly drawn to one it doesn’t make sense to keep using them as they will level up far quicker if you fuse them than if you keep them. I struggled with this at first, as Arsene is your first ‘official’ Persona, and I couldn’t quite believe you are only meant to have him for the first few hours. It’s like Ash giving up Pikachu after defeating Brock!

Also, have you seen how you have to fuse them? It’s so dark and unnecessarily vivid! You have to guillotine, electric chair or hang them in order to create these new Personas, which is so different to Persona 4 where the Personas are cards, making it less gruesome to get rid of your companions. It definitely made me feel bad for fusing them, but that didn’t stop me!

Essentially, the Persona franchise wouldn’t be the same without all the incredible Personas you fight and capture along the way. It really encapsulates what the games are like: stylized and deeply considered, exuding character and imagination throughout.

Take Over, It’s Time to Put You Down

Using these Personas are a lot of fun, too. The moves are elemental as well as physical, they can inflict ailments such as ‘sleep’ and ‘fear’, and evolve as you and your Personas level up. Personas all have strengths and weaknesses, and by fusing them, you can create Personas with stronger moves and resistances that, as you get towards the end of the game, means that you can fuse some incredibly powerful Personas that can fight any and all enemies, if you’re smart with the moves you inherit.

This all sounds very similar to Pokémon, right? Well, there are other more showy, fantastically fun elements that integrate beautifully with the stunning graphics to make every battle (which have the potential to become very repetitive) exciting and challenging. When a character manages to ‘down’ an enemy by using a move that is strong against it, they can either do another attack or choose to Baton Pass to an ally, chaining super-effective attacks to down multiple enemies in one round, which is useful if there are a lot of different enemies with different affinities and weaknesses. Then, once all enemies are downed, all allies can come together for an All Out Attack for an extra boost of damage.

As much as this is useful for the player, if the enemy downs one of your allies, they can also do a secondary attack, which means that they have the potential to wipe out your team very quickly. Plus, some moves are one hit kills, which may have low accuracy but is still extremely frustrating sometimes, particularly in regular 5 where I found the combat more challenging. The worst boss fight was Haru’s dad, where I actually had to change difficulty for the only time throughout the game—who decided it was a good idea to revive the robot shadows if you didn’t kill them in three moves?!

The Showtime moves, new for Royal, bring a fresh new element to the game. As you progress through the story, your allies start forming bonds, which will then be reflected in combat. At seemingly random times, they can join up with fantastic new animations (such as Yusuke cooking Ryuji some yummy food at a bar, who get interrupted by a shadow coming in the door, and they both take it out) and inflict massive damage. I was sad that Joker doesn’t get one, until the Royal section where baes Akechi and Sumire both team up with you respectively for new Showtimes. It made me wonder whether Joker just wasn’t as close to the rest of the team as he becomes to Akechi and Sumire, which actually also made me glad that I focused on both of them heavily in my playthrough!

Every song that plays throughout the game, including combat, is a banger, so even though my husband got annoyed hearing it coming out of my TV for 120 hours, this soundtrack will remain one of my favourites to date. Overall, the combat is great, and thankfully not too repetitive after so many hours of gameplay.

Adulting is Hard

The story of Persona 5 is deeply gripping, and keeps you invested and interested the whole way through. It didn’t absolutely destroy me like other JRPGs have done (see: Final Fantasy XV), but fun, emotive and has huge repercussions if you don’t succeed in your mission, including people dying and the world ending. No pressure, then.

Your actions, then, are crucial to making the world a better place: and the villains that you encounter are integral to succeeding. In true revolution fashion, it’s the kids that need to stand up to the adults to rid them of their distorted desires—but it’s not all random. The adults are truly abhorrent (the first one, Kamoshida, sexually assaults female students and physically abuses members of his volleyball team) and they continue a running thread from first to last—that is, the ones who you think aren’t connected at all seem to be connected to the final villain by the end. It’s very clever, and kept me gripped the whole way through—something that’s needed with 80+ hours of gameplay.

The writing is absolutely fantastic. All characters have their own distinct mannerisms, personalities and stories, which you get to explore with the Confidant mechanic (see below). The voice acting is great, and as I progressed through the Confidants, I really started to feel like they were becoming my friends, and that every time I turned on my PS4 I was hanging out with my pals again. It’s the way games should make you feel—like you actually care about what will happen to them.

This does make the game quite stressful (in a good way), as what you do has actual repercussions. It’s a bit frustrating sometimes that some of your dialogue doesn’t affect the game at large, as well as your romance choices. None of the characters acknowledge you have a girlfriend, and if you date Ann, for example, she won’t act any differently than if you decide to not even become her friend. While that’s disappointing, other dialogue choices can completely affect your game so that you always have to be very careful with your decisions. Will you get the ‘bad’ ending, where you fail to stop the final villain; the ‘good bad’ ending, where you accept his distorted view of the world; or the ‘true’ canon ending, where you revert the world to normal? A lot of choices throughout this lengthy game affect what ultimately happens, so you do feel like you’re affecting the story a lot more than, say, Pokémon. In fact, in Royal, you can even miss out on a whole section of the game…

Ascending to Royalty

As long as you max your Confidant links with Akechi (the renegade teen detective), Kasumi (the new gymnast freshman at your school) and Maruki (the school counsellor), you get to experience the 30+ hours that Royal adds to Persona 5. And—major spoilers here—once you’ve defeated the God of Control and exposed Akechi for the unhinged betrayer that he is, you should go to juvenile detention and your ability to use Personas should be gone for good, as Momentos has been destroyed.

However, in Royal, Maruki has figured out how to use cognitive psience—and you’re the reason why. His sessions with you has helped with his research, and so now he can make the world a better place by granting everyone’s desires in the collective unconsciousness.

As you can see by his actions, he’s not your typical antagonist. His heart is completely in the right place: he wants to make everyone happy by granting their desires for them, such as bringing back Futaba’s dead mother and helping Ryuji recover so he can get back on the track team. I resonated with that, and actually wondered whether it would be worse for certain characters, particularly Futaba and Haru who get to spend time with their respective dead parents, to reject the “blissful ignorance” reality that Maruki had created for them in favour of the truth.

By this point, I had grown rather fond of the deranged but entertaining firework that Akechi has revealed himself to be, and once I learned that Akechi would die (as he did in regular 5) if Maruki’s reality were to be revoked, I almost chose to accept it. But Akechi being adamant that he was going to stop Maruki no matter what as he didn’t want to live under anyone else’s rule helped make that choice for me. It was difficult, though. Akechi’s is a motive that is simultaneously selfish and noble: selfish as he doesn’t want anyone else to control him, even if that means other people are happy, but noble because he values the truth above all else. Plus, the fact that he was one of the main villains throughout the story up until this point made me question whether we should continue to trust him, even though he had decided to help us, even if it were primarily for his own gain. I think my fondness for him (perhaps because he is a fully-fledged Confidant in this game, unlike regular 5) and the wildcard elements he brought to the game made me feel a certain brand of loyalty towards him, and so I chose to honour his “dying wish”. And, of course, this path led to the ‘true’ ending!

This indecision is shown most clearly in Maruki’s palace, where you have to deduce what decisions in certain situations Maruki would think is the ‘right’ one. It really helps you understand where he’s coming from. For example, his question ‘if your friend is being attacked, and you don’t have much time before they get seriously hurt, would you a) run to get help but you might not make it back in time, or b) join the fight to help but you might get hurt yourself?’ Neither answer is necessarily wrong, but b) is correct as Maruki simply wants you to look out for yourself over others. The crux of his viewpoint is that you should endeavour to make yourself happy or safe, even if that means others may not be. It’s a very interesting conundrum, and one I enjoyed debating philosophically whilst playing.

The concept of right and wrong and mental health was also tackled in this game through Kasumi/Sumire. Ultimately, even though Maruki wanted to help her by allowing Sumire to pretend to be her dead sister, as she blames herself for her death, he ultimately did her more harm than good. With the support of Joker and the others Sumire was able to overcome her delusions and grow into a strong, confident young woman. This cemented for me how backwards Maruki was and that reality is the most important thing, even if it’s not always what we want, because that’s life. In this way, I feel that Royal added something to 5. Even though going into someone’s mind palace was about mental health, I never really considered it until Royal dealt with an innocent traumatised girl and a misguided man attempting to heal her. I applaud Atlas for tackling something so difficult pretty well.

Confident in my Confidants

It’s a good thing the player can really get into the story, because it’s heavily dependent on personal decisions and making friends.

In order to get stronger within the Metaverse, Igor, the man inside the Velvet Room, tells Joker that he needs to strengthen the relationship with his friends first. This is absolutely true—not just with your teammates, but with other individuals who live in Tokyo too, in the form of the Confidant mechanic. For example, while your teammates all get skills such as curing afflictions and taking fatal hits for Joker, others give just as much if not more valuable perks, such as Kawakami giving you more free time or Mishima allowing all teammates to gain experience even if they don’t contribute to the battle once you max them out.

The way you level them up is through socialising. This passes time, but is also incredibly interesting, as each Confidant has a gripping story (except Ohya!). You can’t downgrade a Confidant, but picking the right dialogue choices can make leveling them up much quicker in a game where time is everything. It’s also necessary to level up your stats, such as knowledge, kindness and charm, to allow you to progress with some Confidants and be empathetic or charming enough to deal with the situations thrown at you. I loved the dual play style of dungeon battles and social simulation—in a lengthy game, it broke up gameplay and kept it fresh.

As this was my second playthrough, I already knew that maxing certain Confidants would yield the best results, such as Kawakami and Yoshida who eventually allows you to negotiate with and catch shadows of a higher level than you. But in Royal, the new additions of Counselor, Faith & Justice—Maruki, Kasumi & Akechi—freshened things up. Technically, Justice isn’t new, but you can now hang out with him instead of his progress being facilitated purely by story.

Time to rate my friends from worst to best!

21: Ichiko Ohya Devil Arcana

I found this alcoholic journalist very annoying. Her story isn’t that interesting, she isn’t very nice, and the skills that she gives you to allow you to sneak around Palaces easier aren’t worth it either. I only maxed out her story near the end as I had time, but honestly, she shouldn’t be a priority.

20: Iwai Munehisa Hanged Man Arcana

Didn’t think anything of him until Royal, where I had more time to learn about his time in the Yakusa and his son. Useful for guns (which aren’t even an integral part of combat, really), but other than that I barely used his shop—plus you have to have high Guts in order to progress. Definitely better Confidants out there.

19: Tae Takemi Death Arcana

The fact that this doctor is a sexy goth is probably the best thing about her. You can level her up quite early on, so she is quite exciting at the beginning as she’s one of the only adults you can turn into a Confidant at that point, but after a while she stopped being interesting to me. In my Royal playthrough I found I didn’t need many healing items—SP was far more important!—and in the end I didn’t max her out. A fun outfit, but can leave her.

18: Shinya Oda Tower Arcana

Definitely annoying (but what little brother isn’t?) but there’s a sad reason for that—his mum is emotionally abusive, even if she doesn’t mean to be. In the end I wanted to max him out to save him from that life, but I never quite got that far. At least I managed to change his mum’s heart before I finished the game.

He’s also quite useful in buffing gun attacks and bonuses for downing and negotiating, so definitely useful for combat. I just ended up feeling bad for him, but he was also a bit of a shit, being a bully to his classmates; his big bro Joker helped with that!

17: Hifumi Togo Star Arcana

I never got to know her in my first playthrough, and I didn’t realise how useful she is for battles. She eventually allows you to swap players in combat, hastens escapes, improves money hauls, and allows back-up members to do follow up attacks. I’d definitely give her a shot for just those bonuses, even if you don’t want to romance her—but she is sweet, if very detached from the rest of the story.

16: Chihaya Mifune Fortune Arcana

I maxed her out pretty quickly so I could get the fortune readings; affinity was especially useful, as you can level up Confidants a tiny bit quicker, for a price. And, after she takes 100,000 from you near the beginning (!) and eventually gives it back, she’s lovely. Nothing special, and definitely not one to romance, but nice.

15: Twin Wardens Justine & Caroline Strength Arcana

Their Confidant path was slightly different: you have to show them Personas with specific moves, and they will level up. This was very interesting, and also put a natural brake on their relationship, as some Personas can’t be made until you are a certain level. They are also very useful as you eventually unlock group Persona fusions and can fuse Personas of a higher level than you, for a price. Always fun to get the ridiculous Personas a bit earlier on! Also, their story was super interesting, due to the mystery that surrounds their identities…

Also also, Royal gives a new element to your relationship with them. You can now take them out of the Velvet Room to show them ‘human things’, like aquariums and cinemas. I didn’t utilise this much as you only get skill cards, and no actual level progress, but I wish I had more time, as the dialogue in these sequences is hilarious as they try to understand why humans would do certain things. The fact that I’ve ranked them so low is telling—there are so many fun and useful Confidants that mean they rank this low. 

14: Yuuki Mishima Moon Arcana

I actually think you’re a bit mean to him—he’s definitely your friend, but every time you are asked to clarify this the dialogue choices make you seem like a dickhead when you say he’s only ‘sort of’ your friend! He’s helped you so much, stop being such a dick, player. Plus he helps increase EXP, as well as allows EXP to be given to back-up members so it’s definitely a good thing to max him earlier. Plus, he’s sweet, and gives you Momentos requests. Justice for Mishima!

13: Takuto Maruki Councillor Arcana

Lovely. What a gent. Shame he turned out to be distorted by deciding to change people’s realities by interpreting their vague wants instead of actually asking people if they’d WANT their realities changed or not. Sounds a bit like Thanos to me, but with a better reason to be evil.

The bonuses of Maruki though are: he’s interesting; he’s lovely; and his bonuses are mainly SP based, which is always hard to recover in Persona, especially in the early stages of the games. He raises your SP, gives you a chance to instantly recover ailments, gives you a chance to become focused and therefore raises your attack, and gives you a chance to recover your SP when low. Very useful, and you can’t play the Royal storyline without maxing him out before November 18th anyway.

12: Haru Okumura Empress Arcana

Again, I wasn’t too much of a fan of Haru on my first playthrough (perhaps because she’s quite a late addition to the team), but this time round, I had more time to get to know her. I really wanted to save her from her awful fiancé, and hoped I’d be able to say ‘don’t marry him, marry me!’ if I chose to romance her, but alas. I was also quite surprised with how business-orientated she is, which was a surprise. However, she was just too prim and proper for me, and even after her story showed her to be evolving into a confident woman, she didn’t evolve quite enough for me to be interested.

She’s useful, though, as all the Confidants are who are your team members, so leveling her up is a must, for help in combat and to evolve her Persona.

11: Morgana Magician Arcana

Morgana was the most useful as the support hero—I always wanted him in my party, particularly in hard battles, just to keep me and my allies alive. Plus, who doesn’t love a talking cat? Though, at one point, he does get moody and very annoying. While Morgana as a character was never that exciting past being the initial reason they can become Phantom Thieves and the mystery surrounding where he comes from, Royal switched that up by turning him into a dreamboat with piercing blue eyes when Maruki made his dream of being a human come true. They kept saying throughout this sequence how beautiful he was, which was amusing. A nice twist on the original game.

10: Toranosuke Yoshida Sun Arcana

I learnt to level this fallen-from-grace politician up quickly from my first playthrough as, once you max him out, you can negotiate easier with shadows of your own level, and negotiate with higher level shadows and add them to the compendium—absolutely necessary. Also, he’s basically a massive socialist leftie, so he rocks.

9: Yusuke Kitagawa Emperor Arcana

I didn’t like him much in my first playthrough, but now I appreciate him far more—he’s flamboyant, artistic and, best of all, happy to be in his own mind and be himself, no matter what people think of him. He’s a bit stuck up sometimes, but all in all he’s an outsider who fits in better than he really should. And he provides funny dialogue, particularly when interacting with Futaba. I also love his Showtime moves with Ryuji and Ann.

8: Ann Takamaki Lovers Arcana

I’m quite surprised she’s this low down for me, but even though she’s the first girl you befriend and she’s hopelessly beautiful to everyone who meets her, she doesn’t quite push past the ‘ditzy girl’ trope. The story does try to make her more nuanced, and to an extent it works—she’s also fun, thoughtful and empathetic—but there’s just too many misogynistic and ditsy jokes that even only a few years later don’t land anymore. Saying that, she literally uses her sexuality to break free of the misogyny that surrounds her body and the sexual abuse and prejudice she experiences, at the most from the volleyball teacher, and at the least from everyone around her. It’s a steep hill to climb, but she’s doing it.

I drew the picture below!

7: Sadayo Kawakami Temperance Arcana

Kawakami’s your teacher—what could possibly go wrong? Well, she’s also a sexy maid who comes over to clean up, though she won’t go any further as you’re her high school student. Yet. It’s a bit dodgy, especially as she acts like your mum, but even so, the forbidden fruit angle is fun. Her story is also compelling. Not only is she an interesting Confidant, but one of the most useful ones for the amount of extra time she gives you when you level her up. Why on both my playthroughs did I not level her up immediately?

6: Sojiro Sakura Hierophant Arcana

He’s your guardian who takes you in when you have to move from your hometown after your alleged assault to live out your probation. He starts out cranky, but has an absolute heart of gold. He ended up being one of my favourite Confidants—plus, he’s one of the most useful, as he is one of the only ways to get SP in the early game by making coffee and curry. You need to understand the pride I got from making coffee that met his expectations!

5: Futaba Sakura Hermit Arcana

Sojiro’s adopted daughter is so much fun that I romanced her in the first game. While some may think she’s more like a little sister, she’s just a bit more immature because of her hermit lifestyle and Arcana. She’s funny, loves games, and has great references; she is one of the only instances of a game that has a young girl who doesn’t sound like 40-year-olds trying to sound like teenagers. She has a heartbreaking story, but her personality keeps it light. She says it how it is, no matter what anyone else thinks. She’s great.

4: Kasumi/Sumire Yoshizawa Faith Arcana

I chose to romance the gymnast honour student in Royal, because how can you not romance the new girl? Though I wasn’t sure at first, as I found her quite twee at the beginning. However, she became a lot more nuance when she became Sumire, which is to be expected. Plus, she is really well integrated into the story and really makes you feel she cares about you. She has an amazing costume when she is Codename: Violet, and gives you some truly useful abilities, such as ambushing from a distance and avoiding being surrounded by shadows. She’s a great addition to an already great game.

3: Makoto Niijima Priestess Confidant

She’s bestgirl in terms of smarts, badassery, and simple relatability. She is Student Council President, an honour student, and has been manipulated by evil adults for their own distorted desires. Her parents have died, which instils her with deep guilt for being a burden on her sister. She’s also the only one whose Confidant story doesn’t actively revolve around herself: she changes, but it’s through helping her friend who may be a victim of trafficking rather than her own self-interests. She’s sharp, poised and even more badass when she awakens to her Persona, Johanna—it’s a freaking motorcycle!

2: Ryuji Sakamoto Chariot Confidant

Your best buddy. I’m always drawn towards these ones, who are treated a bit dumb but are loyal to the end. He’s also hilarious, like when he complains the Phantom Thieves are in the shadows and not getting any credit, and I chose the option ‘I like the shade’, he says ‘what are you, moss?!’ I really do wish I could romance him, because I can see a lovely storyline where he’s unsure at first but the fact that they’re soulmates transcends gender.

1: Goro Akechi Justice Confidant

I’m almost hesitant to admit I find him the most fascinating and fun. Not only is he dangerous, exciting and unhinged, he's at the centre of an incredible twist. He’s one of the most interesting characters, and you never know what he’s going to do next. I would definitely date him if Japanese games let gay relationships happen; he has all the best attributes for a crazy romantic relationship. Not IRL, but in a game, why not?

I love that he didn’t die and teams up with you in Royal, and that . He’s also the first character that Joker gets a Showtime move with, which made it quite special. When it is revealed just how evil and crazy he is, his whole character changes, including his Persona, his Phantom Thieves outfit, and his demeanor—it’s scary how excited he is by killing, but at the same time, he is absolutely certain of his viewpoints and won’t compromise for anyone. Many of these points would be a reason why he shouldn’t be my number one, but I can’t help it.

Honourable Mentions: Igor (Fool Arcana), Sae Niijima (Judgement Arcana) & Jose

Igor is the ruler of the Velvet Room, and the person who facilitates your rehabilitation in changing peoples’ hearts. However, ‘person’ isn’t quite right for Igor: he’s the God of Control, born from the desires of the collective masses who want to be controlled and be told what to do rather than make difficult decisions. It was a cool twist to realise that the God of Control had been impersonating the real Igor; I don’t know if Igor was lovely in the previous games, but he certainly is once you restore him at the end of 5. Despite him being interesting, I never felt like I had a connection with him, as you level up his Arcana automatically throughout the story, and he never tried to have a personal relationship with Joker.

Sae has her own palace and Arcana, but she’s not quite the same as the others. Like Igor, you level up automatically throughout the game when you confess to her the whole Phantom Thieves story, and while she does have a Palace, she doesn’t through any huge transformation other than realising that learning the truth is better than trying to win at any cost. She’s cool, and her outfit in her Palace is sexy, but you can’t romance her and can’t change much of what you say to her. I wish in Royal she could have been a fully fledged Confidant instead.

Jose counts even less. A new addition to Royal, he helps you change the cognition of Momentos by collecting stamps as you go further down, and he gives you items in exchange for flowers, so he definitely makes Momentos better. However, his addition is nothing world-shaking, and he only shows up randomly, which makes him quite annoying. I could have done without him, but at least he made Momentos more interesting than in the base game, which, compared to Palaces, was quite boring.

All in all, my main issue with the Confidant system as that you still can’t date boys. We’ve been saying for years ‘that’s just the Japanese way’, but considering the crazy hentai they bring out (still with only very little amounts of yaoi/gay hentai) it may be time to stop excusing them for not being with the times. Catherine: Full Body aimed to dispel that somewhat—perhaps Persona should too.

A Momentous Game

Overall, this is one of my favourite games of all time. The gameplay keeps me entertained for 100+ hours (though, to be fair, I do love long games) and the characters and writing makes me emotionally connect with the story they are telling. I’d suggest playing for at least 8 hours, as it’s a slow burn, but once that hurdle is jumped the real obsession begins.

Time to go and play Persona 4 Golden, as I’m not quite ready for the fun to be over yet.

[67midnightwriter]

Bygone: Teach Me

A/N: This was originally intended for @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for her birthday before the world exploded. It was intended to be a quick one shot, but as I was writing I fell in love with Dean, Leia, and Cas’ relationship, so this will end up being a snapshot series. It won’t be written in order, but eventually it will all be written lol. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for the deep beta!

Dean x OFC x Cas no destiel

Warning: feels and squirting

Smut

W/C: 4,269

There are many things Dean Winchester is good at: drawing out both pleasure and pain, locating both good drink and good food no matter where you plop him down, shrugging off compliments he’ll never believe he really deserves, and battling demons, of both the metaphorical and physical varieties. These are the things he (mostly) prides himself on, the base stones with which he builds the foundation of his character. Good or bad, they’re solid and steady through the storm of time. 

He won’t admit it, but among the other qualities lays the fact that he is a good teacher. One might even venture to say that he is an excellent teacher, with seemingly endless pools of kind patience, an uncanny ability to know how to reach even the most challenging and troubled of students, and oceans of knowledge from which to quench the thirst of the curious. It’s his unintentional personal oversight of this key flagstone that has birthed the confusion knotting his forehead currently. 

“Look Cas, I’m honored, really, I am...” Dean’s hand runs through his hair and then down his face, a nervous habit he’s picked up over the years, though he’s not sure where or when. He takes a deep breath before gathering the courage to continue. “But when I told you some things are better learned from watching, this...” He gestures to the room, unable to articulate the words he needs, unsure if any are actually needed, “is not what I meant.”

“I need you to teach me.” 

Dean tries to keep his face blank, but it has a habit of thinking out loud. His eyes grow wide, his eyebrows fly high, and his bottom lip ends up pinched between his teeth to hold in a startled laugh. He steadies himself with a deep breath, slowly letting it out of his nose while he counts to ten.

“Cas, man, it’s pretty self explanatory…”

Leia, currently lying back on the bed she shares with Cas, her honey eyes taking in the awkward exchange between Dean and his best friend. Her deep red hair cascaded over her shoulders like a mane of fire, as she chortled over Castiel’s unamused huff and eyeroll. 

“Dean, I’ve been watching humans mate and reproduce since before they were bipedal. I understand and am perfectly capable of bringing Leia pleasure through standard sexual intercourse.”

Dean suppresses a wince over Cas’s blunt wording; even years of friendship can’t take away the resounding feeling as though he’s talking about sex with a parent. 

If he’s seen so much, shouldn’t he be teaching me?

The unwelcome thought crosses his mind, paired with an image of Cas in a full bodied latex suit, and he physically shakes it away.

“Then I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Cas, I think you’d better just show Dean. It’ll be easier that way.”

Castiel frowns as he considers this, nodding as he settles on a decision. “I suppose you’re correct. Dean, may I?”

Dean closes his eyes to think, rubbing at his hairline like it will help ease his thoughts. He realizes the confusion is going to eat at him until he barges back in and confronts them anyways, and decides that he’d rather skip the forty minutes of pacing and get straight to the point. He still has a list of things to get done today, one that leaves little room for such distractions. “I guess. Let’s get this over with Feathers, I’ve got guns to clean.”

Cas’ lips thin at Dean’s use of the nickname, but he moves past without comment. “You might feel mildly disoriented.” He presses two fingers to each of Dean’s temples, and the world around Dean shimmers, causing his stomach to roll. His eyes close against the sensation, and it vanishes before he can even be sure he really felt it to begin with. 

Dean opens his eyes and finds himself sucked into one of his favorite memories; quite literally. His lips are sealed around Leia’s clit as she writhes underneath him, her cunt clenching around his fingers as she cums. He doesn’t stop, even when she tries to pull away. Instead, he shifts the arm not currently three fingers deep, and pins her hips in place. She breaks from panting to whine his name, high and desperate, but he knows she’s been holding out on him. Her thighs squeeze, one on top of one shoulder, one underneath the other, and he replaces his mouth with his thumb so he can turn and bite the thigh against his ear. He’s rewarded with a sharp, ragged gasp, his thumb circling relentlessly as his fingers push against her g-spot. Her shoulders lift part way off the bed and for a moment she looks like a marionette, her eyes open but unseeing, her mouth hanging slack. He can feel her whole body tensing around him, and he can’t help but grin. 

“Come on, Honey, let go for me,” he drawls, his accent thick and voice ragged. 

He can feel her let go with his finger tips, and his eyes study her face as his skin tingles in a mix of awe, pride, and lust. Castiel chooses that moment to rip him back into the present, and he uses the guise of disorientation to close his eyes and steady his beating heart. His fingers twitch at his side with the urge to wipe phantom moisture off on his jeans, and his cock stirs in his jeans. He rattles off the safety features of the newest Dodge minivan in his head, willing an awkward erection away. 

Traction control, tire pressure monitoring, rear child safety locks.

Since the universe decides against opening a black hole directly beneath his feet, Dean opens his eyes. He looks first at Leia, her warm eyes filled with concern, before turning to meet Cas’ cool blue gaze. 

“Will you teach me?”

“Cas...” Dean runs his hand across his face, his eyes flicking between his friends. “I don’t know. Even if I could, I’m not sure how I would.” 

“I could always take the information straight from the source.” Castiel, Dean was sure, was immune to any and all awkwardness. 

“Castiel! I told you that if Dean didn’t want to help, you would let him go, without any brain spelunking.”

“If you would let me use my grace-”

“You can use your grace to- nevermind. I don’t want to know.” Leia smirks and shoots Dean a wink, and he shudders mentally.

Dean sighs again, his mind battling with its southern counterpart, and blessedly Castiel and Leia stay silent. He gazes at the angel before him, thinking of all the times he’s been saved by his hand, how Castiel has rarely ever asked him for anything but trust. He thinks of Leia, who has been by his side for the better part of 20 years, spent the prime of her life trying to keep his ass alive, and how much she deserves someone who could give her all the things he can’t (or in this case, all the things he can) do. She’s happy with Cas. Cas wants to give her everything she could want. Dean refuses to think about where else Cas would turn for advice, and realizes the decision has been made. 

“Alright. If everyone is okay with this...” Dean gestures to the room again, still unsure there are appropriate words to describe the situation. “I’ll help you.” Leia smiles softly at him, relief washes over Castiel’s face. Dean swallows hard, and thinks there might be a rock settled in his stomach. “How…?”

“Some things are best learned by watching.” 

Of course that would be the one piece of advice Castiel would latch on to. 

“Right. Okay. Well…”

Attuned to his emotions after so many years living beside him, Leia gets up from the bed and stands between him and Castiel. Headstrong, with no room for nonsense, she grasps the open sides of his flannel, pulls him flush against her body, and presses her lips to his. 

It’s been eleven years since they shared a kiss, but it seems as though no one informed their mouths. They fit together the same, and Dean finds himself running his hands up her arms, across her back, pulling her closer, one hand traveling up to the back of her head. She relaxes against him, and it would be so easy for Dean to pretend Castiel isn’t there, to believe that they never fell apart, to find safety and solace in her touch once more, to break down the walls he spent so long building that he can no longer remember if they’re for her sake or his. 

He stiffens, but Leia already knows. She kisses her way across his jaw on up to his earlobe, nibbling softly just behind the curve. She pulls his earlobe with her teeth, before speaking in a heavy low voice. 

“It’s okay, Dean. I want this. Please.” She breathes the last word. Dean wonders briefly if he imagined it, before his resolve crumbles. 

Dean nods, not trusting himself to speak. Leia slips his shirt from his shoulders, and he lets it fall to his feet. He stops thinking, instinct taking over. Her shirt joins his, and he grins when he finds she’s decided to forgo a bra. He backs her on to the bed, his lips trailing hot against her skin as he makes his way up to meet her lips. Castiel shifts behind him, the rustling of his trench coat as he places it on the back of the chair reminding Dean that he’s doing this for a reason, not just living out fantasies. Dean gives control back to his brain, and slows the urgency of his kisses while wondering how to give Castiel a step by step guide on how to make his girlfriend squirt.

“The first-“ Dean’s voice is too low, too thick with lust, so he clears his throat and attempts to continue. “You gotta start-“ Leia stops his stuttering with a kiss. 

“This isn’t going to work if you spend the entire time stumbling over a play by play like it’s your first day on ESPN.”

Dean hangs his head in defeat, the tips of his hair brushing against Leia’s nude chest as it rises. An apology is clawing its way out when Castiel speaks from a spot behind him. 

“Just pray to me.”

Dean turns to meet the cool blue gaze over his right shoulder, and Cas nods at whatever emotions are swirling over his own eyes. Dean finds no doubt in Cas’, no uncertainty, just oceans of trust with swells of excitement that Dean is still sure he doesn’t deserve. He turns his attention back to Leia, who turns a similar trusting, warm gaze on him. She smiles, lips puffy and face relaxed in a nostalgic lust. 

“Okay?” Her voice is sweet, safe, and Dean smiles as the rock in his stomach cracks. 

“Yeah. Okay.”

Dean leans in for a deep kiss, invading her mouth with an expert tongue before making his way down her neck. He prays as he goes along, explaining every touch to Castiel. Leia moans beneath him, leaning in to his touch as he strips her, blunt nails coaxing goosebumps to her skin. He trails kisses and bites down her body, the thumb of his right hand brushing over her nipple, his left resting on her hip as he settles between her thighs. She feels hot and and solid beneath him, and the way she’s relaxed, honey eyes half lidded and full of lust, calms him. Dean bites the inside of her thigh, soothes it with a kiss, and then the absurdness of what they’re doing hits him.

He nearly laughs. It creeps up his throat from deep inside him, threatening to break this tender moment, and he’s not sure that he can hold it in. 

If anyone would have told me, at any point in time, that I would be praying to an angel while demonstrating how to make his girlfriend squirt-

Leia’s hands in his hair bring him back from the edge of hysterics. She pulls, hard enough to move his head, and he twists her nipple in retaliation. She hisses, arching, and she chuckles.

“Focus, Cowboy.”

Dean grins and gets to work. He tightens his grip on her hip, uses his tongue until she’s keening for more, pulling his face closer and fighting against his hold to grind against him. He squeezes her nipple once more before he adjusts himself, latching on to her clit and thrusting the two middle fingers on his left hand in her sodden cunt. He can feel her clenching desperately already, and within a few moves of his fingers she’s cumming.

Once the first one is out of the way, the main key is to keep going, Cas. No matter what she says, or if she tries to pull away, keep going.

Her low pitched guttural groan fills the room, and her thighs clench around his head. He can’t help but chuckle, letting her hip go long enough to force his left arm between her thigh and his ear, pressing the length of his forearm down across her hips and grabbing tight to her right. He adjusts, filling the emptiness where his left hand had been with his right, kissing and nipping at her thigh while rubbing her clit in rough circles with the pad of his thumb. She fidgets, trying to pull away from the overstimulation, desperate whimpers falling sweetly on the air, her body trembling around him. She begins to buck, fighting to pull away, and he can sense Cas stiffen behind him. 

This is where you make your mistake. She’s so close Cas, you can feel her tightening and trying to fight it, but if you really want to make her happy you’ve got to push her into it. Rub her gspot harder, make sure you never let up on her clit, and tell her what you want. She loves that.

“Come on Honey,” Dean purrs, his voice deep and heavy with lust, his accent dripping from his words. “Let go for me.” 

Present mirrors the past, and Dean is awash in deja vu.

Leia’s mouth opens, her whines cutting off to a silent scream. Dean can feel every one of her muscles clenching, her fingers gripping so hard around the bedsheets that the fabric is protesting. The pressure continues building, her shoulders coming off the bed of their own accord, turning her into a marionette of pleasure, a memory come to life. He can feel the release on the tips of his fingers, bringing a grin to his face. 

“That’s my girl.” 

Her silent scream breaks into a desperate cry as her release sprays down his arm. She gasps, falling apart from the inside out. Dean runs his hands up her body as she finally relaxes, the human version of a spring that’s been wound until it snaps. She collapses back down on the bed, her legs extending to either side as her muscles relax. Her chest heaves as she pulls in desperate gasps of air, aftershocks of pleasure still vibrating through trembling extremities. 

Dean smiles softly at her, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh before standing. His cock aches, his erection pressing uncomfortably against his jeans that seem two sizes tighter than this morning. He backs away as Castiel sheds his trenchcoat and settles on the bed, pulling Leia to his chest and murmuring praise between kisses. Dean watches as he feels jealousy blanket his shoulders. It’s her soft begging that finally gets his feet moving again, though his eyes and ears stay fixed on the couple in the bed, his heart aching for it’s happy ending. Sorry buddy, you’re going to have to settle for another long shower.

“Dean.” Her voice reaches him as his hand settles on the door handle, a tangible echo, just as sweet as it was when she was his. “I need you too.” He stops and turns, his heart rate skyrocketing, his cock twitching excitedly. “Please.” She’s always begged more with her eyes than her words, and Dean sees that old flame brought back to life, an ember fanned to raging inferno.

Every fiber of his being is singing all the praises Heaven doesn’t deserve, but still he hesitates.

“It’s okay, Dean.” Blue eyes ground him, just as safe and steady in the bedroom as they are on the battlefield. 

Dean turns from the door, his hands already working at the button of his jeans as he floats back toward the bed. Their clothes are gone before his jeans make it over his hips, and he decides that maybe grace has more advantages than those that are tactile. He pauses at the foot of the bed, the logistics overwhelming his lust addled brain. Shower sex isn’t the only thing that’s complicated. Hell is still just hell, though.

“What do you want, Princess?” Castiel murmurs low into Leia’s ear, and Dean is close enough to see the bumps rise on her skin.

“Deep.” Her tongue stumbles over the single word, her endorphin overloaded brain struggling to process anything more than action and touch.

“I need you to ask for it.” Castiel rolls, throwing one of her limp legs over his hip, dipping two fingers into her cunt and making her eyes fly skyward. “Or you’re not going to get what you want.”

Dean’s cock twitches against his abdomen, and he slowly strokes himself as he watches Castiel’s fingers move, listens to the wet that he caused, feels his body heat under the angel’s sharp gaze. 

They seem to spend an eternity in that moment, washed in lust, excitement, and anticipation. Everything is tense, but Dean feels lighter than he has in years as he allows himself to stop thinking and simply wait to be given a command.

“I want Dean to fuck my ass,” Leia finally manages to gasp out as Cas continues to tease her. “While I ride your cock.” 

Castiel pulls his hand out and settles her slowly onto him. Leia gasps, her hands gripping his shoulders as he guides her hips down, inch by agonizing inch, Dean’s mouth falling open and a grin crawling across Cas’ face as they both watch. Cas maneuvers them until they’re at the end of the bed, his legs hanging over the end and her knees propped on the edge. Dean runs his hand down her back, along the curve of her spine, her skin soft and smooth beneath his time roughened palm. He cups her ass, firm from decades of hunting, and his thumb rubs over a wayward freckle. He spreads it, his tongue darting out to wet his lip as he takes in the view before him, savoring it. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice breaks through his trance, and when he finds that sharp gaze, Castiel is holding out a bottle of lube.

Dean nods as he accepts it, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to form words. He lubes his fingers, teasing her hole before pushing one in. He would gladly go to hell again to hear the moan that left her lips as she pushed back onto his hand. He slowly works her open with one hand as he strokes himself with the other, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

“Dean, please I need you,” Leia whines, her forehead settled on Castiel’s shoulder as the angel busies himself kissing and nipping her neck, teeth grazing one of her favorite spots.

“Okay, darling. I’ve got you.” He preps, takes a deep breath, and pushes forward.

It feels like coming home. Dean gasps and he’s surrounded by tight heat, his hands digging into her hips, his legs settling against the bed, sandwiched between hers and Cas’s. Dean, a corner of his mind once worried about the possible awkwardness of sharing his past love with her present one, the small rational part of his brain speeding through the consequences of fucking his best friend’s girl while he’s in the room, is suddenly certain that if he moves, he will cum instantly, something he hasn’t done since he was 17.

Dean tries to think of a witty comment, the sudden vulnerability of the situation overwhelming him, the need for a protective wall of humor urgent, even though he knows it will destroy this precious moment. His mouth opens, his tongue threatening to sabotage this perfection, but instead of words Dean moans incoherently as Castiel grabs his hips and forces him to move in sync with his own thrusts.

Dean decides that it’s okay to turn his brain off. He stops thinking, and instead he starts feeling. He reaches a hand around to rub at Leia’s clit, tightens his hold on her hip as she falls limp, her body unable to hold itself up between them. Tears are rolling slowly down her cheeks, drool slipping out of the corner of her mouth as her eyes unfocus and she succumbs to the intense pleasure. 

“Such a good girl.” Cas’ voice is deeper than Dean imagined would be possible, rough and breathless as he throws his head back. “More, Dean. Harder.” Cas guides Dean’s movements, pulling his hips in. Dean plants his feet, adjusting the angle of his thrusts, giving himself leverage for more powerful thrusts, pulling a deep moan from Cas’ lips. “Yes, Dean, good.”

Dean’s balls tighten at the praise, his thighs begin to burn as his pace quickens, desperation driving him. He feels Leia cum again, hears her hiss at the end of a silent scream, but it seems far away. His only focus is chasing the high, getting relief from the pressure that’s settled on his groin, because right now everything is tightening, every muscle is tensing. Dean grasps both of her hips in his hands, his knuckles turning white as his pace begins to falter. He hears Castiel call out, feels the hands on his own hips tense and relax, and finally he’s breaking.

Time is meaningless. He falls onto the bed, years of tension seeped from his body. He feels like he’s floating, relaxed and happy, a constant pain numbed in a way that whiskey cannot help. Castiel cleans up Leia with a snap, and she wakes enough to cuddle against Dean, nuzzling her way beneath his arm just like she always has. Castiel lays behind her, bringing with him a sense of safety Dean craves. 

------

Dean is staring at the gun in his hands, but he hasn’t moved to clean it. He glances at the clock, surprised to find that he’s been unfocused for fifteen minutes. He’s not been able to make it through a quarter of his list, but he can’t bring himself to count the day as wasted as he normally would. He’s been trapped in his mind today, bouncing between nostalgia and present, doing his best to not linger on the new, overwhelming amount of ‘what-if’s and ‘what does it mean’s buzzing around his mind. 

He finds himself falling into another spiral, wondering if this was a one time romp, or if he’s not the only one with unrequited feelings. If Leia still has feelings, what does that mean for Cas? They make each other better, they need each other, and Dean does not have enough room in his mental guilt chest to add that.

A small knock at his door makes him jump, and he clears his throat and busies his hands before telling them to come in.

“Dean?” Leia’s voice is tentative, her eyes troubled. She settles herself on his bed, and Dean forces himself to stay where he is at his desk. His heart is racing nearly as fast as his mind, anxiety restricting his lungs and drying his mouth. “Can we talk?” There it was. The death sentence.

“Of course.” Dean zeroed in on the gun in his hands, focused on the familiar movements.

“I talked with Cas about what happened this morning. It...” She paused, biting her lip as she struggled with what to say next. A hundred scenarios began playing through Dean’s mind, each one worse than the previous. 

It was a one-time thing. It was a mistake. It was something I regret. It was the final straw, I can’t do this anymore, we’re leaving.

“It stirred up some emotions that I buried a long time ago. I hope that I don’t offend you by saying this, or that this makes you uncomfortable.” She took a deep breath, and Dean began to oil the pieces of his gun, glad to have something to do with his hands so that she couldn’t see them tremble as he waited patiently for her to continue, every muscle tensed and prepared for life’s usual kick to his metaphorical (and sometimes physical) balls.

“I still love you, Dean. I’ve talked it out with Cas. If you’re interested, I’d like to … make sure this isn’t a one time thing. Cas is okay with this. He understands that each of you are important to me, and each of you fulfill different areas of my life. I want you both.”

Dean’s hands stop moving. He distantly hears the piece of gun clatter to the floor. Every thought screeches to a halt as he looks up, searching her face for any hint of a lie or a prank. Instead, he finds raw vulnerability, one he had chased away long ago. The walls he had watched her build between them over the years, even the bricks he had had purposefully caused her to lay, were now mere crumbles of brick and mortar. 

A smile begins to slowly spread across Dean’s face.

Taglist:

@impala-dreamer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-idjit-95​ @team-free-will-you-idjits-67​ @missjenniferb​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @maddiepants​ @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @cracksinthewalls​ @stunudo​ @mskathywriteswords​ @rockhoochie​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​ @wanderingcas​ 

[yes-bethwrites]

A little Cabin pressure ficlet that I couldn’t get out of my head, just some general light Martin angst and some maybe not unrequited Marlas. I’ve taken a few liberties with electricity and gas meters but shss, let’s ignore that.

--

The winters were always the hardest, especially the last few years since the landlord opted for a meter rather than normal billing. Probably so he could stop including amenities in the rent, Martin had thought glumly when he’d been made aware of it.

When the students were there it was fine; they needed electricity to power their laptops, needed gas to run the hot water in the boiler for long baths or showers, so they were pretty good at remembering to keep it topped up. Obviously he paid his share as well, when he could at least. When he couldn’t…well, he just tried not to use the amenities. There were occasions when he’d spent a week living off increasingly stale bread (no butter because that would mean opening the fridge), until eventually a van job would give him enough to pay his way.

To be honest most of the students were pretty good to him. They’d eventually noticed he was just sitting in the dark or refusing to use the fridge-freezer or turn the oven on, and…well, they’d been really nice about it. They’d started asking him if he needed anything from the fridge as they were getting stuff anyway, or they’d invite him into the lounge to sit with the lights and TV on when they were there too. Okay, sometimes he’d refuse because it wasn’t like he wanted pity but other times they’d been able to navigate his pride.

The only problem was they all had to leave sometime.

Summer holidays were fine, he could normally manage pretty well. The long daylight hours sometimes made it easier to cram in more van jobs (around flying G-ERTI), but even if he wasn’t able to get paid work the longer days meant he could sit in his attic, the living room or even in the small, weedy patio garden and read his manuals until the evening. Plus the warmth meant he didn’t need to worry about the heating accidentally kicking in.

No, summer he could deal with but it was the Christmas holidays he dreaded. The students would disappear in the middle of December and wouldn’t get back until the end of January when the term started again. That was almost six weeks where he was in charge of the meter alone. It really shouldn’t be a scary prospect, a grown man feeding a meter to make sure he could eat, bathe and generally live a normal life but some years it was terrifying. If he could get enough van jobs he was set, but sometimes that just wasn’t possible.

As November bled into December the long winter nights drew in and Martin would watch as his fellow occupants would start to gather their things, they’d sing cheesy Christmas songs, tear down the few flimsy decorations they might have put up a few days beforehand and then they’d be gone. The house would fall silent and he’d be left. Alone.

The place always felt so much emptier when the last goodbyes have been called over Christmas, than when the kids wished each other teary, emotional goodbyes in summer. It was as though every footstep echoed around the house when the wind was howling outside and the cold was slowly creeping in beneath doors and through cracks in window frames.

Sometimes Martin would lie in his attic, shivering despite the duvet and several borrowed blankets, simply watching the ice slowly creep up the windowpane. Eventually, after a few days of trying to tough it out he’d normally grab his things and head down to the living room. He’d take up refuge on the sofa, nestled beneath his blankets and trying to ignore the rumble of his stomach. He’d lie there until it became entirely necessary to move, either because of a job or other urgent reason, and he’d daydream.

It was always the same one that came to him on those dark, cold days. He’d imagine he’d hear a knock at the door, urgent and unexpected. He’d shed his blankets and pad across to the hallway, he’d pull back the lock and open the door to find Douglas standing there. It was always Douglas. Even in the early days when he’d tried to force someone else’s image in his First Officer’s place, Douglas had fought his way back in. He’d be there to check on Martin. He’d been trying to call him, but naturally Martin’s phone had died and he’d have to wait until he was back in the port-a-cabin to try and get some charge.

As they talked Douglas would figure out what was going on, would be appalled that Martin was having to sleep in a hat, gloves and scarf each night and he’d beg him to come with him, to go back to Douglas’ house where it was warm, where a fire would be burning marrying in the grate and where immaculate food would be presented to him, fresh from the oven.

At least in his dream he could pretend that he’d take his friend up on the offer, he could imagine what it would be like to be spirited away from the chill and the loneliness of this house. In dreams he could imagine being the damsel in distress and being rescued by a knight in shining armour. In reality he knew it would never happen. Not only would Douglas never beg him for anything, but Martin would never be able to actually leave with him. He’d be too embarrassed to let anyone see how much he was struggling and if they did…well, he’d stick to his guns and deal with it anyway. He didn’t want charity; he didn’t want pity. But he did want someone to care. He wanted Douglas to care. Deep down he wanted Douglas to care enough to come by and ignore his protestations, to work around his pride and stubbornness and…

Love was what he wanted, and it was something he’d never get. Not from Douglas anyway. It was ridiculous to even think of it, but when he was snuggled under his blankets, alone in the house he could allow his mind to wander down paths he didn’t normally allow. It was a little treat, one he reserved for the winter holidays. After all it was Christmas.

So lost in his daydream, so wrapped up in front of the imaginary fireplace with stockings hung above it, so caught up in the fantasy of a plate of mince pies and glass of mulled wine was he, that he almost missed the sudden, urgent, unexpected, insistent knocking on the door…

[relanah-qahs]

MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY

Whumptober 2020 No.3 

Title: The Only One Who Matters

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Prompt: Manhandled | Forced to their knees | Held at gunpoint

Rating: M for swearing and violence, Relationship: Elena & Gun (Emma) Words: 1709

Tags: Sibling rivalry, held at gunpoint, young Elena, near death experience, introspection, Elena hates the Turks, character backstory, hurt no comfort

AO3 Link.  FFNet Link

Summary: It was at the very moment Elena knew her life’s path had changed. If joining the Turks meant stripping away one’s humanity and empathy, then she wanted absolutely no part of it.

εγλ 0002 September 24. 21:47. Midgar Sector 6 Slums.

Elena was too shaken to do anything other than stare wide-eyed through the barrel of the gun pointed at her face. Her mind was completely blank and time seemed to stand completely still. Her fingers twitched, but she couldn’t bring her arms up to a defensive position. She simply stood there, her arms at her side, mouth wide open, breath vacuumed out of her.

Why couldn’t she move? Why was she freaking out now? She was at the top of her class at Shinra Military Academy, she had been studying marksmanship and other fighting disciplines since she was a kid. So why did her body fail her now?

“Gimme your purse or I will blast off that pretty face of yours!” The gunman’s gruff voice echoed in Elena’s ears.

She felt herself take in a shaky breath and choked out a sob. “Please, please don’t!” It was her own voice, but Elena had no control over the words coming from her. “I’ll do what you want, just please don’t hurt me!”

“Purse, now!”

Elena quickly, and without thinking, slid her pink handbag off from her shoulder and held it in front of her. The gunman snatched it from her but kept the gun pointed menacingly at her face. He was a very rough-looking guy; he was thin and appeared skeleton-like in his huge overcoat, his scraggly beard was matted with grime, and he was missing some teeth. The criminal reeked of mako--probably a junkie desperate to buy his next fix.

Elena sobbed while her attacker flipped through the contents of her handbag: Her dorm keys, her headphones, a pack of tissues, then finally the grand prize--her sparkly pink wallet. She would lose all her tips she got from her part-time job at the bar tonight, probably her train pass and student ID too. If only she could have brought her gun. She specialized in marksmanship, but she wasn’t allowed to take her weapon outside the shooting range since she was underage. But even if she did have her gun with her, would she even have the strength to shoot a real, living human?

“Okay, you got you what you wanted,” she said in a shaky voice. “Now will you please let me go?”

“Shut up!” The gunman dropped the purse and grabbed her hair. She yelped from pain and fear as her blonde hair was forcefully pulled at her scalp. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do.” He forced her down, her knees hitting the ground with a painful thud.

Elena was crying hysterically now. She had never felt so helpless. Why? That was the only word that echoed through her mind. Why? Why couldn’t she fight back? Why wouldn’t her body just move? Why did all her combat training fail to reach her at such a critical moment?

She felt the gun being pressed to her temple. Was this it? Was it really going to end like this? Her life suddenly flashed before her eyes. Her childhood memories at Dad’s house with her sister Emma. Then memories of elementary school, always getting the highest grades, but Dad never being pleased because Emma always did better. Then memories of the military academy flashed before her; she was always in a fierce competition with her classmates. She had no friends, only rivals. And being the daughter of the headmaster meant she was in a constant state of pressure. She worked as hard as she could to be the top of her class, to be the best marksman in the entire school. But all of that meant nothing now. Why? Why did she train so hard only to be helpless at the end?

Why couldn’t she fight back? Why did she push herself so hard? What was it even for? Why was Dad never pleased with her? Why was it never enough? Why was it going to end like this?

Why? Gunshot.

The loud bang overloaded her senses. It was finished.

But it wasn’t her life that ended. She slowly opened her eyes and took in the gruesome sight in front of her. The man who had threatened her laid dead, his eyes wide open, the blood oozing out of his skull and slowly pooling at the ground where she knelt.

“Elena, get up.”  The voice came from her right side. Elena could barely hear it over the ringing in her ears. She turned her head to examine her savior who was now holstering her gun.

It was Emma.

Elena burst into tears and sobbed from the relief washing over her. She quickly got up from the ground, her whole body shaking.

“Oh my god, Sis! You saved me!” Elena ran towards her sister and wrapped her arms around her in the tightest embrace she could manage.

But suddenly Emma forced her back. The young woman held onto Elena’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. Elena couldn’t tell what emotion Emma was expressing, but it wasn’t relief.

“Elena, you’re pathetic.”

Her cold words hit Elena like a punch to the gut. She stared at her sister completely dumbfounded.

“What? Sis, what are you-?”

“You could have taken on that guy, so why didn’t you? Why didn’t you fight him?”

Elena couldn’t find the words to respond. She lowered her gaze to the ground and felt the agonizing warmth of shame rush onto her face.

“You’re only a year away from graduating from military school. You train in combat every day, self-defense should be second nature to you! What was all that studying for, Elena? You show off in the gym only to choke the second you’re in actual danger? Get a fucking grip, Sis. When you’re out in the field, your life will always be on the line. You have to be stronger. You can’t break down and cry just because you’re scared. You will never make it into the Turks if you can’t get your shit together.”

Elena couldn’t help the tears from falling and the noisy sobs escaping her throat. “I’m sorry, Sis! I’m so sorry.”

Emma sighed. “Don’t be sorry. Do better.”

Emma called the Shinra Security officers and explained the situation. She ordered them to remove the body and to not question Elena. Being a Turk meant she had the authority to tell them what to do, and they obeyed without question. Elena couldn’t help but feel glad she didn’t need to talk to the Security officers; she couldn’t relive this again and expose her cowardice. She just hoped this incident wouldn’t reach her school administrators and, most importantly, her father.

What would he say? Would he be disappointed in her?

Emma insisted on escorting Elena back to campus. They didn’t speak to each other the entire train ride back onto the Plate. Elena focused only on controlling her emotions as she didn’t want anyone to see her cry again tonight.

They arrived at the school’s gates. Elena fumbled through her purse for her wallet to present her school ID. She might get in trouble for missing curfew.

“Get some rest, Sis,” said Emma. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

Elena clutched her ID tightly and shot a pleading look towards her sister. “Emma, please, please don’t tell Dad!” She felt another sob rise from her chest at the thought of letting him down in such a terrible way.

Emma shook her head. “He’s going to find out eventually. It’s better if he hears from me instead of the Security officers.”

“I can’t let him down! You said it yourself, didn’t you? I couldn’t defend myself when it really mattered! I’m a total failure. He’ll be so mad at me.”

“That’s not true!” Emma placed a gentle hand on Elena’s shoulder. “He’s not going to mad at you. He’s always worried about you! Just trust me, okay?”

“Whatever,” said Elena. She brushed off her sister’s hand. “You wouldn’t understand anyway. I’m going to bed.”

Elena turned and walked towards the gate, holding her ID to show to the school security guards. She stopped. “Sis,”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for saving me.”

Elena took a long, hot shower as soon as she arrived back at her dorm. She was desperate to get rid of all of the filth and remaining stench of death and gunpowder from her skin. She cried more. It was amazing she had any tears left. She breathed in the steam to try to soothe her aching nose and throat. By the time she dried off it was way past midnight. She quietly opened the door to her dorm to not awaken her roommates. She slid into her bed and hugged her teddy bear tightly to her chest. She could feel another sob rising from her. Her head ached terribly, her face red from the burning salt of her tears. She couldn’t allow a sound to escape her, she couldn’t show weakness to her roommates--her rivals.

You will never make it into the Turks if you don’t get your shit together. Emma’s words echoed through her mind.

Fuck the Turks. And fuck Emma.

If joining the Turks meant stripping away one’s humanity and empathy, then she wanted absolutely no part of it. Her ultimate goal ever since her first year of military school was to one day be one of the Turks, Shinra’s elite mercenary force. The agents who answered only to the President himself. Dad was so proud when Emma was hired, and he expected nothing less of Elena.

But now? Now after actually seeing them in action? No way. After facing death so closely, all she wanted was the comfort and kindness of her sister. But instead she was yelled at to do better. The Turks must beat the kindness out of their recruits.

It was at that very moment, Elena knew her life’s path had changed. No more pursuing the Turks. She would find her own way. Maybe she would quit marksmanship class too and switch her specialty to martial arts. Martial arts would teach her to be strong and she would never be helpless again.

No matter where life took her, Elena would be strong. And kind. That was her promise to the only person who mattered--herself.

[valkerymillenia]

Hi, I asked about jason’s memory in my last ask in cbds. Thanks for answering. It made me wonder would jason gets flashes about his time with dick and the twins?I really admire your patience in writing your story. This is why i’ll fail as a writer, because i have absolutely no patience. I mean I would probably rush my story and that would make it turn bad.

Ok, so, no. At first Jason has no memory between his death and the Pit. Eventually though some things start to trigger pieces of memories that he doesn't really understand, his full memory takes quite a while to return and by then he's dug himself into too deep a hole.

Also, you sound EXACTLY like me when I started writing.

So I'mma ramble now. Feel free to ignore the boring story time beneath the cut but I promise it has a point, it's just bound to be long because I don't know what brevity is and when I'm sleep deprived I talk to much.

Before I started writing I always wanted to put stories down into words but I never ever considered writing books, I used to make elaborate fantasy worlds, characters and lives in my head that dragged on for weeks on end, slowly becoming more and more complex, it was pure escapism, but I never thought about writing those stories down precisely because I though "I'll never have the patience to develop this, I'll just rush it or quit halfway".

Then when I was in 10th grade there was a writing contest in my school and two of my cousins were teachers there and writers themselves and encouraged me to enter (there were 3 categories actually- teachers, 7th to 9th grade and 10th to 12th grade). I figured, why not?

The story had to be handwritten under a pseudonym with a 5 page limit (no word limit because it was handwritten, you just had to use standard test paper for 5 pages, and yes, this was normal because not everyone had access to a computer to type their work), it was fiction under the theme "stories of our people" and the judges were a panel of teachers and one famous writer (he had a very popular YA adventure series and some great mythology based novels, unfortunately he passed away a few years later).

Now, bear in mind 2 things. This was a school surrounded by forest in the hills of a small rural city but it was the biggest rural city around and all the other towns and villages sent their kids to high school there, the second thing to remember is that high school is mandatory education in my country so dropping out isn't really an option. Therefore we had hundreds of kids in the high school grades (somewhere between 600 and 800 kids, I think, there's less nowadays because the next town over grew immensely and has its own high school now).

You'd think kids wouldn't be interested in a writing competition but the author that was coming to judge was very popular at the time and, well, it was a high school in the middle of the woods in a small countryside town. Things were boring, ok? We didn't have a mall or a movie theater or anything, so when something popped up to break the boredom (or someone even remotely famous showed up) everyone jumped at it.

So a lot of people participated and me? I was just dragging my feet because "I didn't have the patience", I waited until the last two days before the deadline and poured out a story last minute with a shitty penname based on my mythology obsession (Valkery Thot, you can laugh about it nowadays but Thot was the Egyptian good of scribes and I was NERD).

The story was about two kids that never liked each other growing up even though they lived close to each other, they end up crossing paths on the same adventure to a local inaccessible waterfall we have here in the mountain, they were looking for treasure based on stories and maps from each of their grandfathers and find a cave together where they discover etchings left by said grandfathers and, long story short, the treasure was friendship.

(Sappy as hell, I know, but I was thinking the whole YA adventure mindframe, ok? Plus, it wasn't my preferred writing language, which is English, and I was 15 and literally improvised the whole thing last minute, didn't even draft anything, I just wrote it directly and barely proofread for typos.)

So I entered the contest last minute with no real hopes, it was just an experiment but it proceed to be way more entertaining than I though, without the pressure of actually wanting to win it was easier than I thought.

Award day came and we all gathered in this fancy huge auditorium we had, it was the fanciest part of the whole school but it still couldn't fit everyone in there, then again most students that came just wanted an excuse not to go to class that morning. Anyway...

One of my cousins won in the teacher category and I was all proud. I watched the 3 winners of the 7th to 9th grade category being awarded and started getting distracted (because unless I was drawing or stimming I had the attention span of a goldfish). Then the 10th to 12th grade category came and I was so distracted that they had to call me twice before I realized I'd won second place!

First place went to 12th grade boy that wrote a story called "The Message", very purple prose and perfect grammar, lovely story, but I digress.

Anyway, the famous author was the one to give me my prize and told me my story was very vivid, there were some typos but he was impressed by the creativity and the amount of action I packed into 5 pages while still giving it a satisfying ending. I barely grasped what the heck he was saying at the time because I still had this certainty that I bullshitted the whole thing last minute and couldn't even remember half of what I wrote but I asked him if he thought I "could be real writer someday" and he just said I already was a "real writer" because all it took to be a real writer was putting it it words, that and actually enjoying the world I made up.

It stuck with me. I didn't realize right away that that was my dream, that I wanted to be a novelist, I still wanted to be an artist and was stuck under all those expectations to choose a proper college path and career (I thought I could do law, AH! what was I thinking?!) but it really stuck with me and shortly after I started getting really deep into a side of fandom that I hadn't experienced before (because I never had much access to internet before that) and started to want to put my stories into words even if I never finished them, I still didn't think I had the patience or the originally.

A few years later I realized that when it comes to something I'm passionate about I do indeed have the patience, by age 12 I had already been writing long comprehensive character bios, story details, transcribed quotes, meta theories, summaries and collecting tons of info of all my favorite fandoms and not to share, just for fun (and probably OCD) this went on for years before I even found out that the internet had whole websites and encyclopedias for such things (not like today though but yeah), and it had never occurred to me the patience that that in itself required.

My first fics were atrocious! Mostly because I made A LOT of typos due to not being used to writing in English full time but my thoughts came more naturally in English and I didn't enjoy writing fiction in Portuguese anyway (poetry though? Absolutely), I also used extremely exaggerated plot points, be it drama, angst or romance. But people liked the stories for the content and not the accurate spelling so I kept at it. I never used to finish my fics back then, not due to lack of patience but mostly because I put too much pressure on myself to make a story perfect and would stop having fun.

When I started writing purely for fun and passion (and realized that not every story needed to be a novel length epic) that's when I started churning out my best (and ironically longest) stories and getting better and better.

I won't lie, having readers encouraging me was key, it's half of the fuel I need to keep going, outside interest is an incredible motivator, but mostly I just realized that the key to good writing is:

Less pressure + more passion = all the patience you need

This doesn't just apply to original work though, it's also about fanfic.

Holy crap, that was a lot of words just to sum everything up on that one bold sentence... See, I could never have written this much when I was in high school, that's also a matter of practicing until letting your thoughts out into writing becomes second nature but that's a whole other story.

Anyway... Thanks for the lovely message. It's the story of thing that means the world to me ❤️

(and PS- no, I haven't won any other contests since that one but I have published articles on magazines, no published novels yet though because I don't think my original ideas are ever good enough to follow through).

[wellhellotragic]

Be Alright (3/?)

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is one phone call to completely turn our lives upside down.

He’d left. That was all she’d known. He’d packed up in the middle of the night after a stupid fight, leaving no trace behind of where he’d gone. But when David’s phone rang one night telling them that Killian was in a hospital in Boston, everything changed. For Emma, it was the last call she ever expected and it meant facing the ghosts of her past and releasing everything she’d kept bottled up and hidden away.

But then again sometimes it’s the tragedies in our lives that finally let us feel again.

A/N: Better late than never right?

Previous chapters: 1, 2

If Ao3 is more your jam...

They were in Paris, sitting in a cafe just down the street from the Eiffel Tower. Two glasses of wine on the table as they took turns sharing their food with one another. A feeling of pure and complete peace descending upon her.

Things like that didn’t really happen though. Not to people like Emma. She should have realized that it was a dream right away, but part of her wanted to believe it. She’d had that same dream before, in happier times. The first time was just after Killian had finished something on one of his boats. There was a technical term for the way he’d sculpted the wood, carved into it, but she’d never bothered to really learn any of it. No, she’d always been content to just sit in a chair in his warehouse watching him work. Watching as the sweat beads rolled down his face, falling from his chin. The way his muscles flexed under his dampened shirt.

Watching him build his boats had always turned her on, even when they all went as a group to see his latest projects. He was an artist, his creations marvels. He was always so determined and focused, she and David would often have to drag him away. But on the days that she visited alone, she slowed him down immensely. Not that he’d complained. But that was in the beginning. Before she felt confident enough to let him sleep over. Instead she’d sneak a visit to him while he worked, letting herself become worked up in the process. They’d make love there. Sometimes on the couch he had in his office, sometimes on the deck of a boat that was barely large enough to fit one person.

It had been exciting in a way. The newness of whatever they had. The knowledge that they could get caught by an unsuspecting client. On that day, he’d been covered in paint and she jumped him the second he was done. They hadn’t even made it to his office, barely grabbing an old sheet he used as a tarp to shield them from the cold concrete floor. He was insatiable, and she reveled in it.

She dreamed that night. A tiny flickering of something as she curdled into his side on that tarp. It was she and Killian, in France. They toured vineyards, danced in their small third story walkup. They kissed and held each other without care. She was happy, and it terrified her, even in unconscious fantasies; the worry often ripping her stomach to shreds as she lay in bed after. She wasn’t lucky. She wasn’t the girl that got everything.

Every night after the images returned, growing over the months they spent together, until one night when she dreamt they were married and panicked. She woke clawing at her chest, struggling to breathe. Killian had done his best to soothe her, but she was inconsolable. The walls closed in and she felt trapped by the pressure of something unattainable.

She tried to tell him that she couldn’t do it anymore. That she couldn’t keep seeing him. That it would all blow up in her face eventually and the deeper she let him in, the more painful it would be. She tried to end it right then and there but he wouldn’t have it.

They talked all night, yelled, screamed, fought. But he wouldn’t leave. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to cry in front of someone. He just held her tightly and promised her that he would never ask more of her than she was willing to give. He promised to never push her for more. That he would never leave her.

The dreams stopped after that. The terror that always accompanied them falling away as well. She hadn’t even thought about them in years. Not until she dreamt it again sitting in a chair in his hospital room. But this time, she was content. The rush of adrenaline, the quickened heart beats, the constricting chest. All gone.

But it was all a lie. He did ask for more, and then he left. He abandoned her, moved on, and she was left with the dream, the nightmare. Trapped in her own mind, still able to feel his breath on the back of her neck as they danced on the terrace.

And then it was over. Shattered by the shreil beeping of his IV machine.

“Go back to sleep. I’m gonna go get a nurse to check on the machine and make sure something isn’t wrong.”

Emma blinked, trying to fight off the lingering vestige of sleep. To fight the heaviness of her eyelids. The beeping was intense and unabating. Opening her eyes a bit more, she saw a light flashing on the pump. Annoying as the sound was, it had done nothing to rouse him, something that worried her. He should have been up hours ago. That’s what the doctor said.

Mary Margaret and the nurse returned. The latter pushed a yellow button on the machine and the beeping stopped. She checked the bag hanging above it, and the lines leading to the machine, humming a little tune as she did so. Her fingers grazed down the line continuing into Killian’s wrist before she stopped, moving the palm closest to Emma a bit.

“Ah, I think I see the problem. The machine can be really temperamental and sometimes if you twist the hand a certain way it can set it off.”

Emma hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding his hand in her sleep. She must have pulled on it and messed up the needle.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine dear. Just try to keep his wrist straight.”

The nurse gave her a smile and left the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. She hadn’t realized how late it was until she saw how well lit the hallway was compared to the room.

“Where are the guys?”

“Oh, they went and got some rooms at a hotel down the street.”

"Why are you still here then?"

She didn't mean for it to come out quite as harsh as it sounded to her ears.

"I didn't want to wake you just yet, so I figured I would hang around for a little bit. I guess I was hoping that he might be awake by now. I thought giving you the extra time to sleep might be enough, plus you look exhausted."

She felt exhausted. She'd barely slept since she'd arrived, and when she did sleep, it was only in small spurts, unable to get comfortable in that stupid tiny chair. The longest she'd managed was right before he got wheeled back for his emergency surgery.

"It is getting late though," Mary Margaret started back. "We should probably head to the hotel ourselves and get some rest. We can come back in the morning."

Emma's jaw dropped a little.

"Margs, I'm not leaving yet."

"Emma, when's the last time you really slept? And besides, wouldn't a bed be more comfortable?"

It would, but Emma thought her discomfort was a small cross to bear in comparison to everything Killian had been through.

"The chair really isn't that bad."

Her friend leveled her with a stare, the same one she often gave her students when the were being difficult.

"Emma, you're not good to anyone like this. Let's get some food and sleep. I bet Graham would appreciate spending some time with you. You've barely said two words to him since we got here this morning."

It was true. She'd been avoiding him as much as possible. She couldn't look at him, the guilt eating away at her. The guilt of having Graham there in Killian's hospital room. Of having Killian possibly waking up and the first person he saw being Graham. Of wondering if he’d be upset, or worse, if he wouldn’t even care having already moved on. Of knowing how much Graham cared for her and not being able to reciprocate in that moment. Knowing that if she went back to a hotel room she'd be forced to actually have a conversation with him. She didn't have the strength for any of it just yet.

"I can't leave him. I don't want him to wake up alone."

"Well then I'll stay and you go."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her frustration back down.

"Please, Margs. Just go. I'm fine here, okay?"

Mary Margaret studied her for a moment, letting out a sigh, finally conceding. Before leaving, she wrote the name of the hotel on a pad of paper from the night stand. She promised to be by early in the morning with a change of clothes from her suitcase. They weren't exactly the same size, but having just won one battle, Emma knew better than to start another fight.

She waved her friend away and waited. She waited for what felt like forever. The sunlight outside faded completely before it was replaced by the harsh glow of street lights from the nearby parking lot. She waited as she listened to family members saying goodbye to the other patients. The changing of the late night show turning into an infomercial. She waited.

Another hospital staff member came in about an hour later to check his vital signs again, seemling unbothered by his still slumbering state. Emma smiled at him as he typed away in the computer he’d rolled in.

“I’m sure he knows you’re here. That he can hear you.”

His words had taken her off guard. She’d become so accustomed to the silence.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, there’s nothing to back it up, scientifically I mean, but I’ve been here for a while now and I’ve seen things. Patients that have loved ones talking to them tend to have better outcomes.”

“Oh, I’m not- I mean, we’re not.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

With a sad smile on his lips he left, not realizing that he’d left her heart imploding. She had been that once. A loved one. Then he’d left and found someone new. She was just a ghost to him now. The world’s shittiest ghost. The one dreaming about a man that had left her, crushed, while the world kindest man slept alone miles away. A man that loved her and deserved so much more than her traitorous heart could give.

“I, uh, I don’t know if you can really hear me or not. Hell, I don’t even know what to say. Not after all of this time.” Her voice caught and a lone tear fell down her cheek. “I guess I should tell you to fight. That’s what people do in these situations, right?”

That’s what they did in the movies at least. They listed off all of the things that they still had to live for. Loved ones and kids and life goals. But he didn’t have any of that anymore, not that she knew of. His brother was dead, his wife was dead, days had passed and no friends had come for him other than her family and boyfriend. For all she knew, he was alone in the world. Then again, she didn’t really know him, not anymore.

He was a stranger to her.

“Storybrooke hasn’t changed at all.”

Coward.

“Someone tried to bring in a Starbucks last year. The wanted to set up right across from Old Lady Lucas, but everyone rallied around Granny to keep them out of town. Went all the way up to the mayors off. And Grumpy got his one year sober chip about two months ago. None of us ever thought we see the day. What else? Oh, Ruby and Victor broke up. We had a girls trip to Vegas to cheer her up, and I guess it worked because she came back married to a woman. I walked in on them in the shower last week. Then they asked me to join them.”

It was a cheap shot but a small part of her hoped the idea of two women lathering each other up in a shower might be enough to peak his interest. That he might shoot up and give her some of that infamous innuendo he was so well known for.

Nothing though.

“Okay, well if that didn’t do it for you, I don’t know what will.”

She gave his hand a squeeze before standing up to stretch out her back. Mary Margaret was right, night after night in that tiny chair had really done a number on her spine. Soon she was going to have to admit defeat. If nothing else, just long enough to run to the hotel to clean up. The hospital staff had given her some washcloths and soap but there was no replacement for a hot shower.

Even as she excused herself, stepping into the bathroom to wash herself off one more time before calling it a night and settling in for another stretch of restless sleep, Emma felt guilty for wishing she was at home, in her own little apartment. Using her own shampoo and crawling into her own pajamas. She felt horrible for complaining to herself though. Not when Killian was about to have his entire life turned upside down. Assuming he ever actually woke up.

There was a very real possibility that it wouldn’t happen. She’d heard the doctor talking outside. Rounding as they called it. They’d said his head ct had come back clear, but she’d seen things. Heard horror stories from cops in surrounding counties about how one minute a guy seemed fine and the next he was gone. She knew that doctors weren’t perfect. They made mistakes. For God’s sake, they couldn’t even save his hand. They couldn’t save Milah either.

Milah. He didn’t even know. How was she supposed to tell the love of her life that the love of his was dead?

She turned on the water faucet and gave herself sixty seconds. One full minute to let herself fall apart. To let the tears fall and anger get the best of her. To let everything she’d been trying and failing to bottle up pour out.

When she was done, she turned the faucet off, letting her breathing calm. Looking in the mirror had been a mistake. Her face was puffy, eyes blotchy red. She was a mess. Plain and simple. Not that it mattered in the middle of the night when the only person around was fast asleep. In a coma, actually. Isn’t that what it was?

She had to fight off a new wave of tears thinking of it that way. She needed to shut her brain down before it got the best of her. If she kept up at the rate she was going, he’d be a ghost in her mind before she ever even left the bathroom.

Drying her face and trying her best to shake the thoughts from her mind, she opened the bathroom door and turned off the light. It was a struggle finding her way back to the chair, her eyes no longer used to the darkness in the room. She’d held her breath as she stubbed her toe on the foot of his hospital bed, not wanting to wake up other patients with her screams. It was fine, she didn’t really need that toe anymore anyway.

With the sting still running up her foot and leg, she grabbed the blanket she’d been using and curled back up into the chair. She’d only just found a position that didn’t make her want to die when she heard a voice in the dark.

“Who's Grumpy?”

[crescentmoon223]

Two Worlds Collide - Chapter 5

Read it on AO3 | Rated: NC-17 | Stella x Scully

Chapter 5

Scully sat cross-legged beside Stella in bed, room service trays laid open on the sheets between them. She’d never done this before, ordered over-priced burgers and eaten them half-naked in bed with the woman she’d just fucked. And why hadn’t she? Why did she so rarely allow herself this kind of indulgence?

If she’d learned anything in her six years with the FBI, it was that tomorrow was never guaranteed. This was the part of the job Stella seemed to have embraced most readily, allowing herself all the fanciful indulgences Scully had gone so long without. Stella worked hard and played hard, then got up the next morning and worked even harder.

Right now, she was eating a French fry—a chip, she would call it—and watching Scully watch her eat. She had on the hotel’s robe again, while Scully wore a plain black T-shirt, both of them bare-legged against the sheets. Stella’s hair hung long and tousled down her back, wavy from being tied in a knot at the back of her head all day.

Scully was struck again by how young she looked, unbuttoned and out of the office. If she removed the makeup and the attitude, dressed in jeans and a ponytail, she could go undercover as a high school student.

“How old are you?” she blurted, curiosity getting the better of her.

Stella straightened, tossing a lock of golden hair over her shoulder. “Twenty-nine.”

Still in her twenties. Scully smiled as she poked the last bite of her burger into her mouth.

“Why are you looking at me like that? How old are you?” Stella asked.

“Thirty-three.”

Stella blinked, plainly not having suspected Scully to be older, when Scully had assumed it since they’d met. Stella’s worldliness was born out of a confidence not backed by her years. She’d forged her way through the ranks on grit, smarts, and determination, and no doubt she’d keep right on climbing.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Scully had the sudden, strong urge to hug her, but she held herself in check, unsure how Stella would react to the gesture. There was a closeness between them, not just the intimacy they’d shared, but a mutual sort of trust and comfort, something Scully had so rarely experienced in her life, she wanted to treasure it forever.

Stella half-smiled as she rose and carried her tray to the door, setting it in the hall. Scully followed with her own tray, grabbing the discarded bag of fudge on her way back to the bed.

“Dessert?” She crawled onto the bed and opened the bag.

“Mm.” Stella gave her a heated look before reaching inside and pulling out a chunk of dark chocolate. She made a little sound of pleasure as she chewed, and Scully wondered how anyone ever managed to spend time in her presence and not fall madly in love with her.

How many people were out there even now, swooning over her without her knowledge? Because already Scully had no idea how she was supposed to forget her when she returned to DC in the morning. How could she forget any of this? Or was that the whole point? She should remember every moment in as much detail as possible.

They ate as much fudge as either of them could stomach, and then Stella leaned over to place the bag on the nightstand. That was when Scully saw the scars on the soles of her feet. Dear God, how much more pain had she etched into her own body? Stella turned, tucking her feet beneath the robe as she saw Scully looking.

I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.

But Scully only smiled, leaning in to wipe a morsel of fudge from Stella’s cheek, kissing her until the tension in her body released. They lay on the sheets facing each other, and Scully was imagining an alternate life in which she lived here in London, fighting crimes she actually stood a chance of solving and coming home every night to Stella in her bed. Of course, it was a fantasy. Even if she lived here, she wasn’t foolish enough to think Stella was the kind of woman who’d settle down, not with Scully or anyone else.

There was a reason they were in a hotel room instead of Stella’s home, after all. This was only temporary, like the room they were in. Their relationship was as neat and clean as the sheets below them, except it wasn’t. Scully didn’t do temporary very well. She’d been forced to accept it in too many aspects of her life over the years, and she would accept it again tomorrow when she said goodbye to Stella.

But that didn’t mean she had to like it. And it didn’t mean this had been meaningless. She could still taste the pain of Stella’s scars against her lips. That ladder of thin white lines carved into her delicate, intimate skin might as well have been a map to her soul, because Scully saw things there that she knew without asking Stella didn’t share readily, if ever.

She saw a teenaged Stella, angry, frightened, hurting herself to numb other pain, attempting to take control of things that were beyond her control. Somewhere along the way, she’d traded the razor blade for a badge, wielding control and power with an iron fist, making hardened criminals cower with a single look, causing men—and women—to fall all over themselves for her attention.

Stella Gibson, endlessly, effortlessly in control, had shown Scully her vulnerability. And she would never, ever forget it.

Right now, Stella was watching her out of sleep-glazed eyes, weary from the day but still alert, still hungry, a heat glowing there that re-ignited the ache between Scully’s thighs that burned whenever they were together, whenever she so much as thought of her.

Wordlessly, they slid together, kissing, touching, hands roaming under clothes. Stella’s robe slid onto the sheets behind her as she pushed Scully’s T-shirt over her head, leaving them both naked. Scully traced her fingers over the freckles on Stella’s chest, rolling Stella to her back so she could look her fill. Stella’s breasts were fuller than Scully’s, rounder. She palmed them, rolling her thumbs over Stella’s nipples so that they contracted into tight pink buds.

“So pretty,” she murmured as she bent her head to kiss first one, then the other.

Stella was quiet, but her gaze was calm, her body loose and pliant beneath Scully’s fingers, no trace of her earlier insecurities. She was leaner than Scully, her body lithe and toned. Scully had felt those muscles last night in the dark, and now she could see them in all their glory. She trailed her fingers over Stella’s six-pack abs.

“Don’t let this go to your head, but do you work out?” she asked, grinning at Stella, who used the moment to flip them, pinning Scully beneath her with the full force of those muscles she’d just been admiring.

“I swim,” she whispered, thrusting her hips against Scully’s. “And I spend my free time in the gym at the station.”

“Not all of your free time.”

“I believe this also counts as working out,” Stella said between kisses, hips still moving, one strong swimmer’s thigh between Scully’s to give her the friction she needed. “Can’t let anyone get the drop on me.”

“Never,” Scully murmured, picturing Stella in the gym, lifting weights to pull her weight in a man’s world. She knew the feeling, had found herself physically disadvantaged in enough situations where she’d wished for a few more inches, a little more muscle, but more often, she’d had to rely on her wits—and her weapon.

Stella kept moving, riding Scully’s thigh while Scully moved against her from below, matching the rhythm of Stella’s hips, rocking together, moaning as the pressure inside her mounted. She wanted to close her eyes, concentrate fully on grinding herself against Stella’s thigh until she’d found release, but she couldn’t look away from the beautiful woman on top of her.

Stella threw her head back, bottom lip clenched between her teeth as she moved. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in messy waves, cascading over her breasts, which bounced with every thrust of her hips. Scully felt powerful in this position, seeing Stella from this angle, the way she would look if she were riding a man. Caught up in the fantasy, she reached a hand between them, touching Stella, carefully pushing two fingers inside her.

Stella gasped, leaning forward, riding Scully’s fingers with abandon. Scully felt separate from her own need, wholly focused on giving Stella pleasure, on making her lose control. And she was close, Scully could tell. She arched her fingers inside Stella, and Stella let out a soft cry, swaying forward to rest her hands on Scully’s shoulders, a fine sheen of sweat gleaming on her chest.

Stella whimpered as she came, her body clenching around Scully’s fingers. Scully held her breath, watching in awe as Stella rode out her orgasm. Her hands trembled as she lowered herself, body covering Scully’s from head to foot, kissing her deeply as she slipped a hand between Scully’s thighs.

It didn’t take her long to send Scully over the edge too, and they lay together for a long time afterward, limbs entwined as they caught their breath. Scully felt an irrational urge to hold on to her forever. The solid, mortal weight of Stella resting against her heart felt so good, tears brimmed in Scully’s eyes. How long had it been since she’d held someone like this? Naked bodies pressed together in the aftermath of pleasure, relaxed and content with the world.

“Stay the night?” she asked quietly.

Stella hesitated, her gaze drifting to the door as if searching for the conviction to walk out of it. Scully released her, dropping her arms to her sides, but then Stella nodded. “Yes, all right.”

And Scully smiled as she brought her arms around Stella again.

Tomorrow, Scully would fly home to DC and figure out what to do about Mulder and the X Files, about her life in general. Tomorrow, Stella would hunt down that little girl’s killer and see him punished. But tonight…tonight was just for them, two women seizing comfort where they could find it, a refuge from the insanity of their day-to-day lives.

Eventually, Stella disentangled herself and went into the bathroom. When she returned to the bed, she reached for the robe where it had fallen, eyes locking on Scully’s as she hesitated for a moment before covering herself. Scully didn’t mind; she wanted Stella to be comfortable, wanted to tell her how much she appreciated the things Stella had shown her, but she sensed the words didn’t need to be said, that she’d only make Stella self-conscious if she tried.

Instead, she turned to put her T-shirt back on, stopped by the feel of Stella’s hands gripping her waist from behind. Stella’s fingertips traced the tattoo on her lower back, circling the ouroboros inked there.

“I like it,” she said, her voice soft and cool as spun silk.

“I don’t,” Scully confessed, the hot sting of embarrassment flowing through her as she remembered her ill-fated night with Ed Jerse.

“Why not?” Stella crawled over to lay beside Scully, facing her.

“It was a stupid, impulsive decision that almost got me killed.”

Stella’s eyebrows rose. “Explain.”

So, she did. She told Stella about her ill-fated solo trip to Philadelphia, her night with Ed, the way he’d nearly killed her, and the cancer that had driven her to such a rash decision in the first place.

“It’s fitting, then,” Stella said. “The snake eating its own tale. It symbolizes rebirth. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Maybe you did get the tattoo you deserve.”

“Maybe.” She tended to get so caught up in the hurt and embarrassment of what had happened with Ed, and then the fear and pain of the cancer, she sometimes forgot about the tattoo itself. Maybe Stella was right. Maybe it symbolized the things she had survived. And maybe these nights with Stella were part of her rebirth.

***

Stella crept along the dark alley, careful to keep her weight on the balls of her feet so her heels didn’t make noise against the damp asphalt. Alissa Pine’s screams echoed from somewhere ahead. If Stella could just get there in time, she could stop this.

She could save Alissa.

But no matter how far she walked, no matter how fast, Alissa’s screams never drew any closer. She turned left, following Alissa’s cry for help, following the alley like an endless maze. Now she could hear him. Garrett Hunt, Alissa’s stepfather, was attacking her. Stella broke into a run, heels clacking down the alley.

She drew her weapon as she rounded the corner, and there they were. Garrett loomed over the girl’s body. Alissa screamed.

“Stop!” Stella yelled. “Put your hands where I can see them.”

But when he turned around, it wasn’t Garrett Hunt at all.

“Come here, my little shining star,” he said, reaching for her. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Stella lurched upright in bed, heart racing, body drenched in sweat. Gasping for air, she reached for the lamp beside the bed and switched it on, fumbling for her dream journal before her surroundings registered. She was in Scully’s hotel room. Her journal was at home.

“You okay?” Scully asked groggily from behind her.

“Fine. Sorry. Bad dream.” Stella shut the light off, feeling ridiculous for having turned it on in the first place. Sometimes revisiting old scars reopened old wounds, a lesson she ought to know by now. She lay back in bed, rolling toward Scully to replace the unwelcome face in her dreams with Scully’s bare-faced beauty, just visible in the light filtering from the window.

“Our line of work causes a lot of those,” Scully murmured, wrapping an arm around Stella to pull her in for a kiss.

Stella stiffened. She wasn’t used to having someone in her bed when she had a nightmare, and she wasn’t used to liking it. She wasn’t used to heartbreakingly beautiful redheads who stripped away her defenses with a single touch.

Beside her, Scully’s breathing evened out, and Stella focused on the rhythm of it as she willed herself back to sleep. She felt as if she’d only just closed her eyes when the phone began to ring, rousing her for the day. This morning, though, Scully got up with her, puttering around the room in that black T-shirt that barely covered her ass as she packed her suitcase.

Stella came up behind her, pressing her against the wall as she slid her hands beneath the hem of that fucking T-shirt. “How much time do you have?”

“About an hour until I need to check out.” Scully gasped as Stella’s fingers reached their destination. “When do you need to be at the office?”

“I can be a few minutes late.”

“And I can be time efficient.” Scully spun to face her, one hand sliding beneath Stella’s robe.

Stella exhaled as Scully touched her, pinning her against the wall for a messy kiss. Their hips moved together as their hands stroked each other toward release. Scully broke first, head thunking against the wall, pussy fluttering around her fingers as she came.

Scully’s hands went to her own hair as she regained her senses, eyes blinking open to meet Stella’s. The next thing she knew, Scully had spun them to pin Stella against the wall before dropping to her knees. Stella’s breath caught in her throat as Scully looked up at her with a wicked smile right before she put her mouth on her.

Stella flattened both palms against the wall, focused on keeping herself upright as Scully licked and sucked. Desire coiled inside her, hot and tight. The hotel room melted away. She forgot about the time, the open files on her desk, the little girl in the morgue waiting for justice. All she knew was the pleasure of Scully’s tongue as she carried her over the edge.

Release radiated from her core in blissful waves. She heard the cry that escaped her lips, felt the way her legs shook, her nails scoring the paint as she slid down the wall to join Scully on the floor. For a moment, they sat there together, arms entwined as they caught their breath. Stella blinked back the unexpected moisture in her eyes.

She slipped out of the robe, leaving it on the floor as she stood and went into the bathroom for a shower. She rinsed herself off as quickly as possible—careful not to get her hair wet—and redressed in yesterday’s clothes, hoping she had something clean left at the office. As she fixed her appearance in the mirror, Scully showered.

It was all strangely comfortable, as if they’d gotten ready together hundreds of times, despite there being nothing comfortable about it at all. Scully’s packed suitcase lay on the bed, plane ticket protruding from the zipper pocket at the top.

“I guess this is goodbye,” she said quietly from behind Stella.

She turned to find Scully in black jeans and a white button-down shirt, blazer draped over her arm. “It is.”

Scully walked to the bed and picked up the little notepad and pen the hotel had provided her. She wrote several lines on it before folding it into a little square and handing it to Stella. “Now you’ve got my home number and my email address. Drop me a line sometime.” Her smile was hesitant. “Or, you know, at least let me know how Ronnie Strickland makes out at trial.”

“I’ll do that,” Stella told her, relieved to have a professional reason to contact her. And then, because she wasn’t overly fond of goodbyes, she led the way out of Scully’s room. They rode the elevator to the lobby as silence spread between them like a sticky web, seeping into the empty spaces and choking Stella when she tried to find words—any words at all—to say.

Luckily, Scully saved her. She propped her suitcase upright and reached for Stella’s hands before leaning in to place a quick kiss on her lips. “Take care.”

“You too.” Stella’s fingers clenched around the neat little square of paper in her palm as she walked away.