#Still really like the short hair suspender look doodles

[kittehbiscuits]

Traditional Beetlejuice art of mine of varying quality

#Some of it is old and kinda shitty sorry #Still really like the short hair suspender look doodles #my artwork #Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice fanart #Lydia Deetz

[adinelleggreeo]

Short Story- An 'Angel' Passing Through: By Adinelle Ggreeo

We have this saying from back in the day, for when a room full of people (usually a class full of chatty students) all of a sudden go completely quiet for a few seconds.

'An Angel just passed through!' someone would jokingly say, breaking the silence.

It's a soothing thought.

Claire, unfortunately, finds out the hard way that it's anything but an angel.

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It was a regular day for the girls of class 3-A at St. Christopher Girls’ Secondary School. It was their English Language period with the well-liked teacher, Mrs Hayes. She was one of the more lenient teachers and let them get away with a little bit more. Like just then. It was fifteen minutes before the bell rang for lunch and instead of trying to cram more knowledge into their brains, she gave them a short worksheet to complete, telling them that she would be collecting them in their next class. The girls of 3-A took the wonderful opportunity given to do the one thing they like most: to talk. While Mrs Hayes took the little time left to start marking some papers, the students’ chatter filled the classroom with a low buzz.

Two girls sat at the back of the class. One with afro hair that she wore in two neat puffs at the top of her head with a navy blue headband as an accessory. The other wore her hair in long braids that she tied up into a ponytail with a blue ribbon. Their names were Claire Baptiste and Kadisha Benedicte. These best friends sat at the back of the class, to the left of the room and right in line with the teacher’s L-shaped desk. They were out of her sight behind two more desks of classmates. Perfect for uninterrupted conversation.

‘Soooo,’ Kadisha drawled, grinning at Claire. ‘I have a new boyfriend! It’s Chey, from the boys’ school. Remember him?’

Claire rolled her eyes, scoffing good-naturedly. She did remember him. She was glad to know her friend’s taste wasn’t totally trash.

‘Yeah,’ she said ‘But isn’t he the third one this month?’

Kadisha looked away, slightly embarrassed, tucking an escaped braid behind her ear.

‘Well, like he’s the fifth,’ she mumbled. ‘But, we went to the mall yesterday and he bought me ice cream!’

Giving her a look, Claire said, ‘We go to the mall and buy each other ice cream all the time. He has to come better than that.’

Kadisha sighed in exasperation.

‘You don’t understand, Claire! We really need to get you a boyfriend!’ ‘Ha! No thanks!’

Kadisha sucked her teeth.

‘Whatever! Anyway, after the ice cream we...,’

Claire nodded along to her friend’s tale while she absentmindedly doodled in the margins of her worksheet. Slightly hypnotised by the squiggles and swirls she was making on the paper, she didn’t realise that Kadisha had stopped talking. Coming back to full awareness but still looking at her worksheet, she realised that it wasn’t just Kadisha that stopped talking. The buzz of chatter in the classroom had ceased. She looked up and jerked in her seat at the sight of her friend’s face. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes round with excitement. Her hands were thrown back and some of her hair was caught between her fingers. Placing her hand over her racing heart, Claire laughed softly.

“Girl, you look so stupid!”

But Kadisha didn’t respond. Actually, she didn’t move at all. Not even a twitch of her lips or fingers. She was still, like a statue. The smile slowly slipped off Claire’s face.

“Kadisha?”

Her friend remained silent.

Feeling slightly unsettled, Claire looked around the classroom. She felt her stomach drop as she took in the stillness. Everyone was frozen, posed awkwardly in their seats, with their hair suspended in the air, pens and pencils frozen in mid-drop and sheets of paper paused in their fluttering from of the tables. Clair, pushed her chair back, wincing at the loud screech of the legs dragging against the terrazzo floor. Even though there seemed to be no one to interrupt, she slowly crept on her tiptoes towards the desk next to theirs.

The closest girl, Zara Crawford, had big round glasses and her frizzy was hair in four ponytails. Her eyes were screwed shut and her hands covered the big smile on her face. Claire poked her at first, then tried to shake her when she didn’t react at all. She tried the same with the next girl, Clara. She didn’t even twitch.

Claire, starting to feel disquieted, scampered around the class, poking, shaking, flicking and pulling hair, trying to get some kind of reaction. Not one person moved. She finally skidded to a stop in front of Mrs Hayes’s desk, catching her breath. Like everyone else, Mrs Hayes was frozen, bent over the papers she was marking. Dashing the papers off the desk and banging on the wood, Claire screamed in her teacher’s face.

“Wake up!”

Like everyone else, she remained as she was.

With dread overtaking her, she slowly backed away. Her attention was drawn to the doorway and while staring at the tree in the plot of grass past the corridor, she realised that she couldn’t hear the rustling of the leaves. Actually, she couldn’t hear anything at all. No birds chirping, no insects chittering, no sounds from the surrounding classrooms. Having a bad feeling, Claire ran out the door, barging into the classroom to the left of hers. Just like her classmates, everyone was still. She ran into the class next to theirs. Same thing. The class at the far end, the same and the form four class across from theirs. All the same.

Gasping and close to tears, she stumbled back to her classroom at a loss for what to do. The whole world it seemed like, was frozen and all the sound was gone. Except for her. Her footsteps and whimpering were uncomfortably loud in the eerie stillness. She reached the door of her classroom, pausing briefly to take in the frozen forms of her classmates, dreading that she had to sit in their stillness. Sniffling, she placed a hand on the doorframe and stepped over the threshold. She never made it past the door.

She had one foot past the threshold. As soon as her shoe touched the floor, Her whole body was locked in place and the world around her began to change. The light blue walls of the classroom, the whiteboard, the lockers and the floor all began to melt, the colours and textures slowly sloughing off and sliding away. In its wake was a ghastly, roiling mass of colours that she’s never seen and a pitch-black darkness. They moved in and out and in between each other, writhing like they were alive.

With their appearance, the sound came back. And what horrible sounds they were. A thick squelching and a ringing that alternated from a high, ear-piercing sound to a low ominous hum. It vibrated around her, torturing her ears, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin and sending her heart into a panic. The strange colours and the darkness seethed around her, seeming to close in on her. Claire wanted to scream, but her lips remained firmly closed. Her eyes, the only part of her that could freely move looked on as the colours and the darkness began to churn faster, converging in the corner of the classroom diagonal to the door. They twisted and turned, the squelching sounds increasing and the ringing lowering to that horrible, low drone. They began to bulge out as if something was pushing on them and horror filled Claire’s heart when she realised that something was trying to come through.

A long black thing pushed through first, dripping with the colours and the darkness. The spindly twigs at the end of it slowly curled into themselves. It was a hand and those twigs were long bony fingers. The rest of the thing came after. Claire could barely comprehend what she was seeing. As it oozed through the rapidly distorting colours and the darkness, It began to grow and grow and grow. There was no ceiling to hinder it. It had no discernible form. There was no head and no face. It kept shifting and twisting into tattered ribbons of black and they swirled around like a mini hurricane. Pale, glowing orbs were embedded in the parts that the ribbons revealed. They moved and rolled around, leaking a thick black substance that flew off to join the rest of its swirling form. They vaguely looked like eyes pouring dark tears. The limb it used to push through into the classroom had disappeared. There was no indication that it even existed. There were no other limbs to be seen. It was a mass of swirling darkness with orbs all over its form and it brought with it such a bone-chilling dread that Claire thought she was dying. The ringing had gone high again, the shrill sound increasing her fear.

It slowly, so slowly began to move away from the corner, making its way between the desks. It did not touch the girls. It didn’t pay them any attention at all. It left a trail of the dark substance in its wake that was absorbed into the colour and darkness that was the floor. Claire watched the thing as it made its way to the front of the class, pausing where the whiteboard was and pulling one of its long, spidery limbs from the confines of its form. It was so close and Claire was so afraid. Desperately, she began to pray.

As if sensing her pleas, the thing whipped around to face her. Its form contorted abnormally and all of its orbs turned to look at her. The high-pitched ringing abruptly stopped and Claire silently sobbed. They both stared at each other for a short while. Then suddenly the thing was right in front of her. It was crouched down, so the place where its face should have been was right in front of hers. There was one big orb embedded there. It was still as it observed her. With her heart trying to beat out of her chest, Claire could only watch as it brought its hand up to her face, one of its skinny fingers held up. It dripped with the strange black liquid. A soft whistling sound filled the air around them. It rose high and loud, assaulting her already hurting ears. Its orb began to glow white hot, so bright. One moment, she was looking into the face of what she thought was death, the next, she was blinded by the expanding glow and knew no more.

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Mrs Hayes softly laughed to herself at the three seconds of silence from the class.

‘An angel passed through,’ she thought, remembering the old saying the adults used to chuckle about when she was a young girl.

Immediately after, a scream pierced the air. It was coming from right outside the class. She shot up from her chair, almost slipping and sliding on some of the papers that were for some reason on the floor. Some of the students followed, their desks and chairs scrapping against the floor as they scrambled out of their seats.

She almost ran her over when she shot out the door.

There was Claire, curled up on the floor right outside the door, still screaming. Her arms were wrapped around her head and she was clawing at her hair, pulling the strands out of their puffs. She knelt by her, trying to gently pry her hands away from her face and head, but her hold was like a vice. Other teachers and students, disturbed by the screaming, had come out to check.

What happened? How did her student who sat at the back of the class end up outside the door? She didn’t see her pass by. And the screaming. It was filled with genuine fear and pain. She could barely hear the other teachers as they tried to talk to her.

Her other students all huddled by the door, some starting to cry and wail at the sight of their classmate. Claire’s seatmate and possibly her good friend had pushed herself to the front of the crowd, trying to reach out to her, but was held back by another teacher who was failing to console her. Her own screaming and crying added to the utter confusion of the situation. Thankfully, someone had gotten the school nurse who arrived with a wheelchair. As the nurse wheeled the still-screaming girl away, Mrs Hayes, with a racing heart and an unnerving feeling about what happened, shook herself and breathed, turning towards her distraught girls.

It looked like lunch would be a bit early that day.

#short story #short story writing #supernatural being #nephilim #nephilim demon #cosmic horror #original story #original writing #original characters #adinelle ggreeo #adinelle ggreeo writes #adinelle writes #high school story #high school characters #adinelle ggreeo stories

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 129

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 129: The Fourteenth Door

After entering the doors twice for it, Ruan Nanzhu could now be certain that the hint for the eleventh door would not undergo any additional changes.

The tenth door was too difficult, and was impossible to do a third time. Twice was plenty, besides, and they couldn't risk their lives on it again. Had Cheng Yixie not left, then perhaps they could've gotten a third hint slip about the eleventh door. But there was no helping when fate refused to abide its people, and such incidents occurred.

Most of human life was pretty much like this, filled with impermanence and variables.

Ruan Nanzhu said that Ye Niao also gave off light, and was someone well-suited to the doors. Ye Niao too went exactly as Ruan Nanzhu predicted, quickly adapting to life inside Obsidian. His outgoing and lively personality kept the mansion's atmosphere from getting too depressed.

Two years time wasn't exactly long, but it wasn't exactly short either.

Since Cheng Yixie left Obsidian, Lin Qiushi had not seen him again. Just like that, Cheng Yixie hid all traces of himself and disappeared so cleanly before everybody's eyes, as if he'd never been there at all.

Disappearing with him was a man who used to come over plenty, that Zhuo Feiquan. He'd even visited once after Cheng Qianli's incident, sprawled out crassly in the living room and asking, "where's that little idiot Cheng Qianli? Where's he gone?"

Nobody answered his question.

Perhaps the looks on everybody's faces at his question were too awful, but Zhuo Feiquan seemed to understand. He started to say something, but stopped again, and in the end said nothing before leaving. Once he'd left he never showed again. He disappeared without a trace from everybody's purview.

For the two years, Lin Qiushi never stopped going through the doors.

High-level, low-level—he did them all. His frequency averaged to about twice a month. Sometimes Ruan Nanzhu went with him. Sometimes he was alone.

During this time Lin Qiushi once again got to witness Ye Niao in drag…but never mind. Let's not talk about it. His eyes burned at the thought.

With so many doors entered, he also met all sorts of people. The strong ones, the weak ones—the hundreds of different ways people behaved in the face of death always brought out in him a heartfelt sigh.

And Ruan Nanzhu never gave up on reaching Cheng Yixie, though he never really heard anything back. It wasn't until a particular day in the second year that they knew there was someplace Cheng Yixie would definitely appear at.

That day was the anniversary of Cheng Qianli's death.

Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu went to the grave where Cheng Qianli was buried and found a corner. After waiting for a while, they saw a figure appear before Cheng Qianli's tombstone.

The figure was wearing a face mask and a hat, so it was difficult to make out any features, but Lin Qiushi only needed one look to be sure that the person in front of them now was Cheng Yixie.

"Do we go over?" Lin Qiushi asked.

Ruan Nanzhu shook his head. "Let's let him be alone for a bit."

Lin Qiushi sighed.

Cheng Yixie stood in front of Cheng Qianli's grave for a very long time, before finally setting the flowers in his hand down before the tombstone. As he prepared to leave, Lin Qiushi couldn't help but call out his name: "Yixie!"

Cheng Yixie's figure halted, and he turned to look at Lin Qiushi.

Lin Qiushi quickly came up to him. There was so much he wanted to say to this child, but he didn't quite know where to start.

But it was Cheng Yixie who spoke up first.

"It's been a while."

His eyes on Lin Qiushi were cold. Compared to his characteristic detachment of the past, his gaze now was like a frozen lake—profoundly dark and chilled to the marrow, without any trace of warmth at all.

"It's been a while," Lin Qiushi said.

Ruan Nanzhu too approached Cheng Yixie and inspected him up and down, all without saying a word.

"I still have something to do, so I'll be going." Cheng Yixie looked at his watch when he spoke, and his tone was distant.

"You…" Lin Qiushi wanted to ask if Cheng Yixie had been well, but also felt such a topic would be extraneous. Because anybody could tell that he had not been well.

Cheng Yixie had not been well at all. A lot more of his hair had gone white, and though he covered it with a hat, it was still quite obvious.

"Go," Ruan Nanzhu said, not saying much of anything in the end. "If there's anything, give us a call. We're always here."

Cheng Yixie nodded, still with no trace of emotion on his face at all, and he turned to leave.

Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu watched him go in twin silence. The truth was they didn't know how to comfort Cheng Yixie. Even if it'd been a year, the impact of some things could and would never diminish.

Lin Qiushi slowly unwrapped a piece of candy and put it in his mouth. He felt the sweetness spread out across his tongue, and took Ruan Nanzhu by the hand.

"Let's go," he said.

The two finally left the graveyard.

Having seen that Cheng Yixie was still alive, Lin Qiushi could set his suspended heart down a few degrees. He didn't dare ask for too much. But what he didn't expect was that several days later, they would receive a letter from Cheng Yixie. The letter simply said that he'd obtained a hint to the eleventh door.

"The hint I got, it's a special one," Cheng Yixie wrote in the letter. "There are only two words: Life and Death."

Lin Qiushi read the contents of the letter and spoke aloud those two special words: "Life…and death?"

Ruan Nanzhu's brows furrowed as he too sank into deep thought.

Their hint was No Solution, but Cheng Yixie's hint was Life and Death. An odd thought surfaced in Lin Qiushi’s mind, and he said: "Could it be that everybody's eleventh door is the same?"

Ruan Nanzhu's fingers rubbed at the letter, eyeing the two words written on it.

"It's possible."

"Before that senior of yours went into the eleventh door, did he give you any information?" Lin Qiushi looked at Ruan Nanzhu.

"No, I was still a newbie then," Ruan Nanzhu replied. "Couldn't even think about something as far away as the eleventh door."

There was no other way then, since there was nobody around them who'd passed the eleventh door. The truth was, that Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi could safely pass the tenth door was already exceptional.

Life, death. Life, death. What did Life and Death indicate in the hint? Had this been any other door, they would've at least been able to think that they'd make the connections and proceed to analyze the hint once they were inside. But this was a high-level door in which any misstep could cost you your life. Even Ruan Nanzhu didn't dare to be overconfident about it.

Even though they still had a year, they were already preparing to enter the door.

The two of them did a lot of research based on the words Life and Death—from Eastern myths to Western tales, from Yanluo Temple to Anubis…

Though they didn't know whether or not any of this would be of use, they had to do something. It was easier to bear this way, instead of just sitting and waiting.

In the two years' time, Ye Niao passed his seventh door. When Lin Qiushi asked if he wanted to skip a door, Ye Niao gave it some thought, but ultimately turned the offer down. He said that there really was no point in skipping doors. Whatever was his lot in life would still ultimately come.

Lin Qiushi quite admired his caution and self-discipline. After all, faced with this kind of temptation, not everybody could turn it down.

The precise time of their eleventh door was March 27th. Because the level of the door was high, they already had a concrete sense of when they would be going in.

With a deeply solemn expression, Ruan Nanzhu drew a circle around March 26th on their calendar, and even doodled a little heart next to it.

When Lin Qiushi saw this he told him, "you marked it wrong. We're going in on the 27th."

"It's not wrong," Ruan Nanzhu said.

Lin Qiushi blinked.

"We have to do it a few extra times on the 26th."

Lin Qiushi, "…" It took him a few seconds to realize that the bastard was making a dirty joke, and couldn't say anything for a good minute. Ever since he and Ruan Nanzhu established their relationship, Ruan Nanzhu's more gregarious personality from inside the doors had become more and more apparent. Lin Qiushi thought this was a good thing—except, the only bad part was that Ruan Nanzhu often got jealous of himself.

"Do you like Zhu Meng or Ruan Nanzhu?" Ruan Nanzhu asked Lin Qiushi once outside the door.

Lin Qiushi could only say that the one he liked was Ruan Nanzhu.

Inside the doors though, he had to change his answer. And then Zhu Meng became possessed by the Drama Sprite again: "But yesterday, a man named Ruan Nanzhu called and told me that you love him."

Lin Qiushi, "…can't I love both?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "yes, I'll allow you to love both."

"…" Lin Qiushi sighed internally. Why do you have so many scripts in your hands?

The time of their eleventh door slowly approached. The atmosphere among the group once again began to stiffen.

Needless to say, this would be an extremely difficult door, so before going in, Lin Qiushi took care to calculate out how his affairs would be handled after he passed. He discovered, however, that he was pretty much someone utterly without mooring. His only friend Wu Qi was gone, and it had been a long time since he'd been in touch with his family. Beside his friends in this mansion, there really wasn't anybody he had to say goodbye to.

What Lin Qiushi never expected was that, a month before going into the door, Ruan Nanzhu would take him to Ruan Nanzhu’s own home.

Lin Qiushi kept thinking that Ruan Nanzhu's home would be a relatively desolate environment, but the moment they got there, a beautiful middle-aged woman appeared and threw herself sobbing onto Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu was unmoved, slowly pushing the woman away.

"Ma," he greeted.

Lin Qiushi stood awkwardly beside him.

Then Lin Qiushi was roughly introduced to Ruan Nanzhu's family make-up. His family was fortunate, with a successful older brother, a strict father, and a charming mother. Beyond their successes the family seemed utterly normal, and Ruan Nanzhu didn’t seem to fit in at all.

On Ruan Nanzhu's part, he very frankly introduced Lin Qiushi as his lover.

Lin Qiushi was a bit nervous at first, but saw them accept Ruan Nanzhu's claim quite peacefully. It was only afterwards that Lin Qiushi knew that this family was pretty much the same as Yi Manman's, believing that something had gone wrong with Ruan Nanzhu's psychological state…

"My baby is good for everything. He just has a little problem with fantasies, is all." In the time it took for Ruan Nanzhu to go to the bathroom, his mother said this to Lin Qiushi while wiping the tears from her eyes. "He's had this sickness since he was young. Thank you. It must be your company that's made him so much better…"

Lin Qiushi didn't dare speak, thinking that he couldn't possibly tell Ruan Nanzhu's mother that he too had a little problem with fantasies, could he? If he thought about it though it was understandable. In the eyes of people without doors, after all, the time they spent inside the doors was simply them staring off into space.

It was only that after spacing out, their reactions could be intense. Some cried, some laughed, some even threw themselves straight off a building…

It was clear that Ruan Nanzhu's family still cared for him, but it was this care precisely that became a sort of burden. They didn't understand what Ruan Nanzhu did, and couldn't comprehend why Ruan Nanzhu avoided the normal paths in life…

There had never been such a thing as pure empathy in this world.

After a meal, Ruan Nanzhu took Lin Qiushi and left. Sitting in the car, he looked over at Lin Qiushi and asked, "isn't there anything you want to say?"

Lin Qiushi, "like what…your mom's super young?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "…"

Lin Qiushi grinned. "I don't have anything to say." He paused for a bit, before continuing, "they're all good people."

It was just that some things, they weren't meant to ever understand.

Ruan Nanzhu said, "I'm actually quite fortunate. My family all thinks I'm crazy, and wanted to send me abroad for treatment. But at least they didn't force it."

At the mention of crazy, Lin Qiushi was reminded of Yi Manman. Yi Manman was practically the prototypical Obsidian member—his family kept thinking he'd gone insane, and they'd even tried to shut him away in a mental hospital by force. Compared to him, Ruan Nanzhu's family's attitude stood in vivid contrast.

"It's true though, from an outsider's perspective we're all crazy," Lin Qiushi said helplessly. "We space out for a bit, and then start sobbing and yelling."

"It's been almost five years since I went home," Ruan Nanzhu said.

Lin Qiushi watched him, and understood what Ruan Nanzhu was saying. Sure enough, Ruan Nanzhu continued slowly: "We're not that close. This way when they actually lose me, they won't be so sad."

Lin Qiushi had to laugh: "I wouldn't be so sure of that." He recalled when they were first coming into their relationship, and how Ruan Nanzhu took a sudden step back. Thinking on it now, it had probably been this mentality at work.

It was just that now, they could both stand firm, and become pillars on which the other could rely.

For half a month before going into their door, the entire mansion partied hard. Everybody gathered every night to drink and mess around until late in the evening.

The feelings being suppressed underneath all this partying all came bursting out one night, and everybody in the mansion started crying—Chen Fei, Yi Manman, Lu Yanxue, and Ye Niao.

Ye Niao said, "Lin Qiushi you little bastard son of a bitch, you have to come out!"

Chen Fei said, "Ruan-ge, we'll be out here waiting for you."

Yi Manman and Lu Yanxue were crying so hard that they couldn't even talk.

Lin Qiushi too felt teary-eyed at this development, and only Ruan Nanzhu remained as steel-hearted as ever, saying, "we're not even dead yet, what are you crying for?"

"Uwaaaa…" But everybody had drank too much to heed Ruan Nanzhu's words, and they continued to express all the uneasy feelings inside their hearts.

Lin Qiushi lied on the sofa, brain completely eaten up by alcohol. Even so, he felt a kind of joy that was difficult to describe. There were people who cared for his life and death, there were people who wanted him to survive. The feeling of being cared for like this was so inescapably moving that he couldn't help but tear up.

Everybody cried, and ran about. The whole house became a mess.

Ruan Nanzhu came to Lin Qiushi's side and sat down. Then he pulled Lin Qiushi into his lap, fingers tapping at the tips of Lin Qiushi's ears.

"Your ears are like a fairy’s."

Lin Qiushi watched Ruan Nanzhu, silly with giddiness.

Ruan Nanzhu, after some drinks, was still exceptionally good-looking. His cool demeanor was softened by a tipsy sheen, light rippling through his eyes, and his lips were red with a gleam of moisture, looking particularly tasty.

Lin Qiushi reached up and gave Ruan Nanzhu's thick lashes a touch, laughing, "they're so long."

Ruan Nanzhu gazed down, watching him.

Lin Qiushi leaned back in Ruan Nanzhu's arms and felt the warmth coming from the other's skin. He said, "I used to think this is enough, but now…" A hint of sorrow surfaced between his brows. "I want to grow old with you. Is that too selfish?"

"No," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Everybody wants that. It's normal."

He got close to Lin Qiushi's ear and gave the tip of it a kiss, before speaking in a gravelly voice, "it's the same for me."

Lin Qiushi's answering smile was brilliant. He said, "that's great then. Are you scared?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "I used to be. But I'm not scared anymore."

They had each other now.

Lin Qiushi's heart too had settled. He said, "I'm not scared either."

Gazing into each other's eyes, they both smiled at the same time. Ruan Nanzhu picked Lin Qiushi up and started straight for the second floor.

Seeing them go, Ye Niao called, "you're already leaving? We haven't even had enough to drink yet…"

And immediately after Chen Fei smacked him on the head, saying, "wake the hell up youngster, those two are in love."

Ye Niao, "…" This place was not friendly toward singles.

They had a dozen days like a doomsday carnival, and the week before the 27th, everybody gradually started to calm down again.

Ruan Nanzhu went to find Chen Fei and began delegating some matters.

At first, Chen Fei was resistant, but Ruan Nanzhu said one thing that got him to settle down. He said: "I can't guarantee that I'll be coming out. If I die, you have to keep Obsidian going. They're all still here. You have to protect them."

Chen Fei reluctantly agreed.

Unlike Ruan Nanzhu, Lin Qiushi had nothing to do, so he went to help Lu Yanxue with dinner.

Lu Yanxue was looking pretty down. She did her best to cheer up, but Lin Qiushi could tell her smile was forced.

He didn't want to see her like this either, and so subtly suggested that if she didn't want to smile, there was no need. He understood how she was feeling.

When Lu Yanxue heard this, she couldn't hold back anymore, throwing herself into Lin Qiushi's arms and beginning to wail.

"I can't imagine it. I can't even imagine what it would be like if you and Ruan-ge weren't here. I'm scared to think if something were to happen to you…"

Lin Qiushi stroked her hair, like he was comforting a child through a meltdown. He didn't know what to do, and could only say, "it'll be fine. Everything will be fine."

Lu Yanxue cried herself into a mess.

March 25th, Cheng Yixie came back. His return put everybody at a loss, and underneath the joy, there was a deep undercurrent of worry.

Cheng Yixie got taller, and skinnier. In two year's time, he'd completely morphed into a mature adult.

He knew when Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu were going into the door, so his visit this time was likely out of concern that this would be the last time they'd see each other.

The group didn't dare talk about the past, only asked if Cheng Yixie had spent the past two years well.

Cheng Yixie answered on and off, but Lin Qiushi noticed that on his neck, there was a new pendant. This was the pendant that Lin Qiushi had seen around Zhuo Feiquan's neck before…

"Where's Zhuo Feiquan?" Ruan Nanzhu asked the question that Lin Qiushi wanted to ask.

"He's dead." Cheng Yixie's tone was dull, as if death could no longer bring him to any emotion. "He died last year. Didn't make it through the tenth door."

Ruan Nanzhu said nothing more.

After staying an hour, Cheng Yixie got up to leave. Lu Yanxue asked why he didn't come back, but he only smiled for a moment before saying three words: "I'm not worthy."

Hearing those words felt to Lin Qiushi like needles jabbing into his heart. He looked at Ruan Nanzhu, but saw Ruan Nanzhu's lips in a tight line, not saying anything to persuade Cheng Yixie to stay.

After Cheng Yixie left, Ruan Nanzhu finally said, "there's always a price to pay for taking shortcuts."

Lin Qiushi knew what he meant.

Most likely, Ruan Nanzhu also wanted to tell Cheng Yixie that he was welcomed to return to Obsidian, but in the end kept silent because Cheng Yixie had gone against his principles. Some things were bottom lines, and no matter the circumstance, bottom lines could not be broken.

On the 26th, Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu spent all day in bed.

They talked of love, gazes lingering and cloying in each other's eyes. They fell asleep wrapped up in each other's arms, and the sun set and rose again. The most important day had finally came.

March 27th. The day Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu entered their door.

It was a bright and sunny spring day—the breeze caressed and the sunbeams dazed.

Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu had breakfast together. Then they put on everything they were taking with them and sat together on their bed. They ate candy as they chatted, until all of a sudden, the atmosphere around them changed.

The person sitting across from Lin Qiushi suddenly disappeared, and Lin Qiushi knew that it was finally here. Backpack on, he stood up and opened the closest door. There he saw a familiar long hallway.

In the corridor, ten doors were shut behind seals. Only two doors were left at the very end of the hall.

Lin Qiushi took a slow step in, then approached one of the doors. With a deep breath, he took hold of the door handle and gradually pulled it open.

The scene around him twisted, and a strong force pulled Lin Qiushi inside. When he got a good look at his surroundings, however, his breathing stuttered.

Having experienced so many doors, and having seen so many peculiar scenarios, he'd never seen one as chilling as the one before him now. Cold sweat rose on Lin Qiushi's back, and goosebumps appeared along his arms of their own volition—he'd appeared in what looked like a normal bedroom. Lin Qiushi remembered well that it was in this bedroom that he'd met Ruan Nanzhu in reality for the very first time.

That's right, Lin Qiushi had returned to his old house, the apartment that he'd stopped renting a long time ago.

Lin Qiushi laughed bitterly as he thought, this truly was the nightmare among nightmares.

[Ch. 128] | [Ch. 130]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒 #HERE WE GO #THE BEGINNING OF THE END #AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[stevie-wicks]

red, black and blue

She’d taken the photo in some empty parking lot in downtown LA, sunlight two years younger glinting off the hood of the Camaro. Billy’s moustache was still a couple of stray gold whiskers on his upper lip; his hair just past the tips of his unpierced ears. A different Billy to the one Hawkins had seen, but post-California Billy hadn’t had much time for Max’s amateur attempts at photography. Or for Max, in general.

“It’s a good photo.”

Jonathan Byers was not a formal wear kind of guy. He looked stiff and uncomfortable in his ugly suit- or maybe that was just an extension of how he was feeling. How they all were.

Max wrapped her hands around her elbows, suddenly regretting resisting her mother’s attempts to usher her into a jacket. “Thanks. I know he looks- different.”

Jonathan looked for a moment like he might offer her his ugly coat; then he probably remembered the uglier shirt he wore underneath. “He looks happier.”

“He was.” Max dug her nails into her skin. “He hated it here.”

Jonathan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Listen, Max; I know it’s not- it’s not really the same, but when I- when I thought Will was gone, I-” He swallowed. “Will is my best friend. I know that sounds really lame, but I just thought that. Maybe you’d feel better, or, I dunno. I know what it’s like.”

He was trying so hard. Max almost felt bad for him. “I don’t think you do.”

She’d wanted to sit next to Lucas, but her mom hadn’t. Some murmured nonsense about Neil not liking it; some louder nonsense about how they were a family and that now, more than ever, they had to stay together.

El became the compromise.

Not that Neil was gung-ho about El, either; not with the oversized flannel and suspenders she’d refused to change out of. Light blue eyes bore a hole into the side of Max’s head as she shuffled into the pew next to El. They weren’t the same shade of blue as Billy’s; he’d had more green to his, more like Max’s own. Neil’s were like ice chips.

A bony hand reached over, and Max looked up at Joyce Byers’s warm brown instead. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she whispered.

Stupidly, Max said, “He owed you a plate.”

El stirred. “I owe him my life,” she said quietly.

The last funeral Max had been to had been for some distant Mayfield relative. She’d been six and she’d cried all the way to Glendale because she was missing Jabberjaw. Then Dad bought her an ice cream and she’d forgotten all about Jabberjaw. She fell asleep halfway through the service, and they got home in time for Speed Buggy.

Billy’s service took half as long and felt an eternity longer.

Mom had offered to do a eulogy. She’d brought it up over breakfast, nervous eyes darting between Max and Neil, as if either of them would put up a fight. She tottered to her feet now, shuffling awkwardly to the front, in a dress a few laundry cycles short of being grey. For a fleeting moment, Max wished she had put up a fight. Billy would’ve died-

Max bit her cheek hard enough to taste copper.

Mom cleared her throat. “Billy and I didn’t know each other for very long, but I wish we had. He was a wonderful young man.” She dabbed at her eyes with a ratty handkerchief.

Max sank back into her seat. Maybe it was for the best; she could never lie about Billy the way her mom did. Not when all she could think of was the blood- God, so much blood, his blood- his last scream torn out of his chest by misshapen claws- apologies on a dying breath-

She stood up. Mom paused midway between some crap about Billy’s ‘respect and responsibility’.

“Maxine,” Mom said, mortified.

“I have to go.” She tore outside, knuckling her burning eyes.

The breeze nipped at her skin. She leaned against the wall, rubbing her hands up her arms. It was mid-July, for Pete’s sake.

She should’ve worn the stupid jacket.

She wiped at her face roughly. When her vision cleared, Lucas stood in front of her.

“Your mom’s done talking, if you wanna head back inside.” He kicked at a pebble.

Max kicked it back. It skittered away, just out of Lucas’s reach. “Not really.”

He squared his shoulders. “Mind if I join you, then?”

She shrugged. He hesitated for a moment before sidling up next to her, arms barely brushing.

“Steve’s giving his speech now.”

Max’s eyebrows reached her scalp.

“For the basketball team,” Lucas clarified, then added, a little awkwardly, “None of the other guys showed up.”

It shouldn’t hurt, but. “Yeah, well. Didn’t think Steve would, either. He hated Billy’s guts.” She dug her heels into the gravel. “You all did.”

Lucas fell quiet. “I didn’t hate him.”

Max snorted. “’Cause you’re not supposed to hold grudges over people who are-” She blinked back a fresh wave of tears. God, Maxine; you’re such a goddamn girl, Billy would’ve said. “You should. He was awful to you.”

“I didn’t hate him,” he repeated. “I mean, he scared the shit out of me, sure. But still. He was your brother.”

“That’s not an excuse. And he was my step-”

“He was your brother.” Lucas had turned on his side, fully facing her now. “And I know you lo- cared about him. And I’m trying to tell you that it’s okay to cry.”

Her eyes welled with tears. She hadn’t allowed herself to; not since Starcourt, not since she’d read the twenty-eight other names in the paper, not since she’d come home in an ambulance and her brother in a casket and Neil locked up Billy’s room and tore down everything else that had belonged to his son and threw it all in the trash like he’d been waiting to get rid of it-

Lucas held out an arm. Max buried her face in his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt and turning it translucent with her tears.

She cried long enough for her tear ducts to run dry, and then stood sniffling into the wet shirt. She was probably making it all gross with her snot, but she didn’t let herself get too torn up about it. The Sinclairs could afford a washing machine.

“Maxine.”

Max went rigid. Lucas, unbothered and oblivious, kept his arms around her. “Hey, Mr. Hargrove.”

She turned around slowly, just in time to catch the flicker of revulsion that passed over Neil’s face. “And who are you, boy?”

There was a painful pause. Max’s nails carved crescents into her palms.

“Lucas Sinclair, sir,” Lucas said at last.

Neil’s eyes were glacial. Max barely suppressed a shiver when they trained on her. “Maxine; something you learn when you grow older that there are a certain type of people in this world that you stay away from. And this boy?” Neil cut his gaze to Lucas. “This boy is one of them.”

Max reeled back. “I-”

“You stay away from my daughter, Sinclair; do you hear me?” Neil hadn’t raised his voice once since he’d started speaking. To any passers-by, this would look like a normal conversation. “Stay away.”

He didn’t wait for Lucas to respond, tugging Max away with a harsh grip on her wrist. She didn’t dare to turn around.

“I don’t want you anywhere near that boy, Maxine.” His hold loosened the closer they got to the car- Neil’s car, a respectable Ford sedan. She didn’t dare tug her hand free, either. “I hope you learn your lesson with this. Billy didn’t; not at first. I’m afraid I had to use more- forceful- methods with him. I trust I won’t have to do the same with you.”

Max turned to Neil despite herself. It was the first time he’d said Billy’s name since the Fourth of July.

His eyes gave nothing away. “Do I make myself clear?” His fingers tightened again.

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good.” Neil’s smile was a mirror of Billy’s; shark-like and vicious, moments away from tearing into your throat. “It’s about time you got some new friends, too. Girls your age shouldn’t be hanging around with boys too much.”

“El’s a girl,” Max told her shoes.

Neil scoffed. “Really? Did she show you proof?”

What happened to you, Mad Max? Billy would’ve asked. You’re not going to stand up for your little hick friends?

Or maybe-

I had to use more forceful methods with him - the bruises she’d see on Billy while his own knuckles remained unscathed- Mom whisking her away on impromptu shopping trips whenever Neil and Billy raised their voices- forceful methods -

- maybe he would understand.

★

Billy’s life couldn’t have fit into a garbage bag.

Max hadn’t gone into his room since she’d gone with El, but he had to have more than what Neil had thrown out onto the sidewalk. Outside the four walls of his room, it was like Billy hadn’t even existed.

She slipped out of bed in the quiet.

Billy had taught her how to pick a lock, back in California. “Use a hairpin, or somethin’- you got one of those?”

She unfurled her fingers. The hairpin was damp with sweat. She wiped it on her t-shirt, and slid it into the keyhole.

“Keep your big ears close to the door; you won’t hear squat that far away.”

She held her breath, pressing her ear to the cool wood.

“Wait for the sound- there, you hear that? That’s how you know the tumblers are in place.”

The door swung open with a soft click.

Max half expected to be assaulted by cigarette smoke and hair metal. But it had been almost a week, and all that Billy had left behind were stale air and silence.

She flicked on the flashlight. The blinds were drawn, the bed unmade, half his closet on the floor. Air the room out, and you could pretend he’d walk right in.

His schoolbooks balanced an ashtray; the desk was not for studying. Instead, he’d cluttered it with beer cans and tapes and a tree’s worth of loose-leaf.

She padded over and sat down in his chair, trying to imagine him hunched over the desk, scribbling on page after page in messy letters. Billy’s handwriting was just as angry as he was.

Her eyes flickered over song lyrics- snippets from the racket she’d been forced to sit through every weekday morning and afternoon. Somehow, silent car rides had lost their appeal.

Strange little doodles decorated the margins- band logos and cars and anatomically inaccurate depictions of women. “Gross,” Max said aloud, pushing the papers away with a theatric shudder.

The tabletop had not been exempted from Billy’s artistry; Max shone the flashlight on more band logos and cuss words and names engraved into the wood. Here there was a crude AC/DC logo, the lightning slash extending down to form the ‘t’ in ‘TWAT’. There was a ‘María’ right next to that, the accent mark angled in the wrong direction. Max remembered her; she’d gone out with Billy for all of sophomore year- the longest Max had ever seen him go out with one girl. She’d taught Max how to do makeup.

A few paces away was Tina- the prettiest girl in Hawkins High, everyone agreed- Laurie was a slut, but she’d complimented Max on her hair- and then Karen. Max traced the ‘K’; she didn’t know any Karens who went to Hawkins High- but then again, she barely knew all the kids in the middle school. There could be a pretty blonde cheerleader somewhere, talking to her friends over the phone. “Yeah, I went out with him a couple of times,” Max imagined her saying. She’d twirl a strand of hair around her finger, lips pulled down in a pout. “And now he’s dead. Spooky.”

She knuckled her eyes. The beam of the flashlight caught on the letter S.

She held the flashlight up, frowning at the name that made itself obvious. Stevie- except the ‘i’ was jammed haphazardly between the ‘v’ and the ‘e’, like it had been an afterthought.

She stared at it until the light flickered overhead.

“Shit!”

Max dropped the flashlight, head snapping back to the door. It hung ajar, just as she’d left it. Heart in her throat, she inched towards the doorway.

The hallway light flicked on.

Max held the flashlight close to her chest, knuckles bone-white and stark. She stepped outside, and the light turned on in the living room.

When she stood in the doorway, staring out at the lifeless room, the telephone started to ring.

Her feet felt heavy as cinderblocks. She plucked the receiver from its cradle, bringing it to her ear with shaking hands.

From the other side, someone breathed heavily.

Max pressed the phone closer, hard enough to hurt. “Billy?”

A crackle of static. Some peculiar noise.

Apologies on a dying breath.

Then, “Max.”

ao3

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #tw: death #tw: mentions of child abuse #tw: racism #max mayfield #billy hargrove #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #harringrove #lumax #el hopper #joyce byers #post season 3 #stranger things 4

[kanerallels]

Congratulicitations on your eleventy-first follower, vod'ika!!!!!!!

For the writing asks: Runo for four hundre-- whoops sorry I went Jeporady for a minute there.

Runo + Modern AU + Imagine your OTP for six hundred, plz.

My pleasure, vod!!!

Pairing: Noah St. Claire x Ruya Lewis

Word count: 1,274

Warnings/tags: Rated G (for the giant crush Noah just got)

With the benefit of hindsight, Noah thought, the whole thing had been very badly thought out.

He’d been in class, pretending to listen to his incredibly boring teacher, and doodling in his notebook. Which was for school, obviously. If anyone looked inside, that’s what they would see. School stuff. Not drawings. However, if anyone tried to look, he’d cram one of his textbooks down their throat.

Anyways, he’d been in the middle of that when a student to his left asked a question. For whatever reason, Noah had glanced over at them, and his heart had nearly jumped out of his chest. It was a girl, around his age. She had reddish brown hair, with blonde highlights along the tips, light brown skin, and a look of curiosity in her eyes that Noah liked the look of.

He wasn’t saying that she was drop dead gorgeous, but he definitely wasn’t not saying that.

As the professor kept talking, Noah surreptitiously flipped to a new page in his notebook and started drawing, keeping his gaze on the girl. She had her chin propped on one hand as she listened, the other holding a pencil that she tapped against her desk to a rhythm Noah could swear he recognized. There was something about the slight smile she wore that was totally entrancing, and Noah concentrated fiercely on getting it right, his pencil moving quickly.

Finally, he had a rough sketch of her completed on the page in front of him-- and just in time. The bell signifying the end of the class rang, and Noah got to his feet, closing his notebook and wondering how he was supposed to survive a few more hours of monotony.

He took a step forward, and crashed straight into the girl, who’d just leapt to her feet. Both of their books and notebooks went flying, and she let out a gasp. “Oh-- I’m sorry, I didn’t see you--”

“You’re good, it’s on me,” Noah assured her, quickly scrambling to pick up some of the books she’d dropped and wondering what on earth was up with him today. Usually, he’d just shoot the perpetrator a glare, pick up his stuff, and keep moving. And yet, he found himself handing the girl her a few notebooks as she shot him a quick smile.

The smile was enough to make his heart rate double, and he stood stock still as the girl shoved her books and notebooks into her bag and headed for the door. Finally, Noah shook himself out of his daze and glanced down at his notebook, which he was still holding.

Except that he wasn’t. In his hand was the spiral bound green notebook that he used for actual notes. It also looked nothing like the brown leather book he carried with him everywhere. What-- how-- Noah flashed back to a few minutes earlier, when he’d handed a few notebooks to the girl, completely unaware of his actions.

And one of them had been his. Which had a sketch of her in it.

Oh, CRAP. Indulging in a few more venomous curses, Noah bolted out of the classroom, barely stopping to scoop up his books before he raced down the hall, scanning for any sign of the girl.

To his relief, he finally spotted her heading out of the building, probably towards her next class. Which is nowhere near mine, Noah realized with a groan. Well, he was failing math anyways. May as well double down and skip class to avoid a lifetime of embarrassment. He headed after the girl, wondering how the heck he was supposed to broach this conversation.

At first, she didn’t seem to notice him behind her. This did not last long, because Noah was neither short nor remotely subtle, and he’d cultivated his “mess with me and you will regret it” vibes too long to give them up for a little bit of embarrassing subterfuge. She glanced back at him at one point, and Noah instantly pretended to be absorbed in one of his textbooks without really reading a word of the text, loitering next to the wall.

After a few seconds, he peeked over the top, and she was still there, hands on her hips, an unamused expression on her face. “Why are you following me?” she asked.

“...I’m not?”

“This isn’t the way to your class, because I’d know if I’d seen you there before,” she said. “Also, you’re reading that textbook upside down.”

“Huh?” Noah looked at it, and realized that it was, in fact, upside down. “Uh… I like to do that?”

“Not convincing. Tell me what you’re doing or I’ll call security.”

“Whoa, whoa-- please don’t do that.” Sticking the textbook under his arm, Noah braced himself, then said, “You have my sketchbook.”

The girl’s eyebrow shot up. “What?”

“When I bumped into you earlier, I accidentally handed you my notebook with your stuff,” Noah said, praying no one else was hearing this conversation.

Frowning, the girl asked, “Then why didn’t you ask for it back?”

“Um. Reasons.” He saw her skeptical expression and sighed. “There’s… maybe kinda a picture in there that I didn’t exactly want y-- anyone to see.”

The hostility in her expression faded, and the girl started digging through her bookbag, saying, “Okay. But I’m definitely looking.”

“What?” Alarm flooded through Noah. “Why?”

“I want to make sure you’re not just some creeper who’s using this as a dumb excuse,” she explained, which made sense. “And I’m also very curious.”

This could go well. “Maybe don’t--” Noah started, but she’d found his sketchbook and flipped it open to the most recent page before he could finish his sentence.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment she didn’t speak. Noah was desperately trying to figure out what to say when she said, “This is… really good.”

Hmm. Unexpected, Noah thought. “Thanks?” he said cautiously.

“I mean, it’s a little weird that you started drawing me when you don’t even know me,” she said, handing him back the notebook. “But I’m gonna choose to be complimented.”

Exhaling, Noah tucked the notebook under his arm, and shot her a quick smile. “Well, there’s one way to fix that,” he said. “I’m Noah St. Claire.”

Returning his smile, the girl said, “Ruya Lewis.”

Noah felt his heart beat a little faster at the smile, and managed to keep his expression nonchalant. “Nice to meet you, Ruya,” he said.

“You, too,” Ruya told him. “Although I have to ask-- do you meet every girl you know by stalking them after you’ve drawn them?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly give me much of a choice when it came to drawing you,” Noah said, feeling his grin turn into a smirk. “Not with that Mona Lisa smile of yours.”

Ruya’s eyes widened again, and to Noah’s delight, she turned slightly red. “Okay, charmer,” she said, grinning. “Why don’t you let me get to class, and I’ll talk to you later.”

“How do you plan on finding me?” Noah protested.

“Oh, it’ll be easy. Everyone knows about the infamous Noah St. Claire, who got suspended in the first week of college because he punched out a professor,” Ruya said, smirking.

Whoops. He’d honestly forgotten about that. “Don’t let my reputation scare you off,” Noah told her, and she laughed.

“Duly noted. Uh, you should probably get going-- aren’t you late for class?”

Noah glanced at his watch and discovered that he was, in fact, nearly late. “Worth it,” he said, flashing her a grin, and then bolted down the hallway as fast as his feet could carry him, hearing Ruya’s laugh behind him.

#noah st. claire #ruya st. claire #runo #111 followers celebration #accidental-spice #the silver eye #the silver eye webcomic #the silver eye fan fic #runo fan fic #modern!au #college au #they're both med students and they're total simps for each other #this was my first time writing them so i hope i did them justice! #fyi the other fics are coming i just haven't finished them yet #i'm getting there though! #it was dope. the end

[onefourjisung]

Newfound Friendship (Stray Kids Han)

Prompt: (y/n) is a kid who doesn’t usually care about things that doesn’t affect themself, but when a foreign exchange student, Han Jisung, was struggling to fit in, they can’t help but step in. Even going out of their way to make sure no one messed with the fluffy cheeked boy. (gender neutral reader, highschool au)

Warnings: bullying, racism, a small school fight, strong language

Word count: 1,551

“Everybody, I want you to welcome our new exchange student, Han Jisung.” Your homeroom teacher walked in, a blond boy tailing behind her. “Go on, introduce yourself,”

“Hi, uh- my name is Jisung, from Korea.” The new kid awkwardly waved, his bottom lip unintentionally sticking between his teeth by the end of the sentence.

Your teacher patted his back gently before smiling at Jisung, “Go on have a seat,”

He nodded before walking nervously down the rows of desks searching for an open spot. Just to your luck, the first one he noticed was the seat next to yours. You didn’t have anything against the new kid in particular, you’re just not very good at making friends. Your slightly individualistic demeanor and resting bitch face (along with your dark aesthetic and your undying love for leather jackets) have always been successful in sending people away and earning you the title of “the bad kid not to messed with” -and you never bothered to deny it.  

When Jisung wordlessly pointed at the empty chair beside you, your brain didn’t even have enough time to come up with a proper response before he grinned, putting his bag on the desk. You internally sighed, saying goodbye to the peaceful semester you had imagined.  

“Hi,” Jisung whispered, leaning slightly to you while keeping his eyes on the board. “I’m Han Jisung.”

“(y/n),” you answered shortly as you continued to make no effort to actually pay attention to your teacher.

“My English name is Peter,” he casually said with a smile.

You finally turned your head to the boy, eyeing him up and down. Once again, your resting bitch face must’ve sent the wrong signal as Jisung’s smile faltered to a somewhat scared look that reminded you of a squirrel due to his chubby cheeks.

Not wanting to give off a bad impression to the already nervous boy, you mustered up a small smile. “You look more of a Jisung to me,”

After your lighthearted reply, he seemed to regain his positivity and lowly chuckled making sure you weren’t getting any unwanted attention from the teacher. He then became quiet for a while before saying “Will you help me?”

You raised your eyebrow slightly at the sudden proposal, “help you with what?”

You noticed him fidgeting with the pen in his hand before looking up to you. “Uh- my English is not very good? Will you help me?”

You once again smiled softly, “I think you’re doing just fine, but sure I’ll help you.”

Jisung couldn’t help but grin at the confident boost from you and he sighed in relief as he already gained his first friend within a few minutes.

Turns out, Jisung ended up being in most of your classes trough out the day, this led to Jisung always sitting next to you. You thought the stares people were giving the two of you was because the notorious (y/n) who had always sat alone and don’t give a damn about it finally has a chair mate slash friend. However, when you find a sad Jisung on the other side of the door as you exited your chemistry class –the only class you didn’t have with him- you were unfortunately proven wrong.

"Jisung?” you touched his shoulder in worry. “Are you okay?”

He raised his head at your presence, the usual cheerful glint in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his eyes were tinted red and slightly puffed as if he had been crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You questioned your friend further, ignoring the stares of your pupils passing by on their way to the cafetaria.

“They’re mean,” Jisung pouted, his eyes getting slightly teary.  

“Who is?”

“Kids in biology class.” Jisung sighed, blinking faster to stop his tears from falling. “They teased my English.”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach at Jisung’s confession but managed to keep your composure. “Look at me,” you grabbed Jisung’s hand gently before smiling at him. “I’m here now, let’s go grab some lunch, yeah?”

Jisung only nodded as he let you guide him through the hallways, your hand still securely wrapped around his.

You sat on your usual table as the both of you ate your food. Jisung’s mood was getting better thanks to the distraction the horrible food provided.  

“Do you eat this everyday?” Jisung cringed as he continuously poked on the undercooked green beans on his plate.

“Well, not exactly this menu everyday,” you smiled in amusement, “but the other menus are not any better, honestly.”

“Ew, gross.” You heard Jisung murmur under his breath, causing you to laugh.

“Well, you gotta deal with it now that you’re here, Jiji,” you teased.

“Jiji?” Jisung pointed out your nickname for him.

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged. “Can it be your nickname? Do you like it?”

Jisung contemplated for a bit before responding. “But jiji in Korean means gross,”

“Great, just like this food and just like you.” You joked.

“Hey, not true!” Jisung retorted playfully.

“I’m gonna start calling you Jiji from now on.” You stated and when he didn’t argue, you accepted it as a permission.

It was quiet between the both of you for a bit before a boy passed by your table, throwing some rude remarks and a degrading laugh, you recognized the kid as Ashton from your PE class. You were taken aback and couldn’t help but feel offended and stared at the brown haired kid as he left the cafetaria. When you turned back to your original position, Jisung was slightly hunched as if trying to make himself smaller, keeping his eyes to the untouched food in front of him.

“Jisung,” you called to gain his attention. “Was that the kid that’s been bothering you?”

His silence was more than enough to clarify your theories. You eventually got up from your seat with Jisung staring at you questioningly.  

“I’m going to the bathroom, you stay here, okay?” You told him.  

Ashton fell back with hands on his cheek, obviously not expecting you to actually throw a punch. "What the fuck?!”

You obviously were not going to the bathroom. You were going to find Ashton and have a little word with him. You were really not planning on picking up a fight. Ashton was a well-known dick with nothing but a big mouth, he was not a fighter and you knew it from that one time last semester when you kicked his ass during a Taekwondo lesson. But when Ashton exaggeratedly mocked Jisung’s accent in front of you after you brought up the problem, you just couldn’t hold yourself back. Before you knew it, your knuckle had made contact with his cheek in full force.

By then, people were starting to crowd around the two of you, it was only a matter of time until a teacher will come and break you two up.

“Next time you even try to look at Jisung the wrong way, I’ll be giving you much more than a bruised up cheek.” You pointed your finger at him threateningly to make sure you got your point across.

“Okay! Fuck, I’m sorry!” He finally responded.  

Ashton, still taken aback by your outburst only stared at you in disbelief, knowing better not to fight back. To this, you reached out to apply more pressure on his hand that was still on his cheek, making him groan in pain as he flinched away from your touch.

Just then, one of your teachers finally got to the scene, breaking through the crowd of student surrounding you.  

“(y/n) (y/l/n)! Ashton Carter! Principal’s office, now!” He shouted sternly.

You obeyed his words and wordlessly left as the teacher shoo off the crowd. In the corner of your eyes you see Jisung’s worried face, you spared a glance at him as you smile reassuringly, silently telling him not to worry.

The hour you spent in the principal’s office was not too bad. Considering Ashton's reputation, the principal didn’t need to be told twice to believe your words. Still, he didn’t agree with your way of dealing with the issue so he sent you to detention while Ashton was suspended for three days.

You were mindlessly doodling on a page in your notebook when the door of the detention room opened. The teacher on duty really couldn’t care less as he continued to scroll on his phone without acknowledging the new presence. You tilted your head in confusion as Jisung made his way towards you after spotting you in the back of the room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as he took a seat beside you.

He rummaged through his backpack before pulling out a chocolate bar and a boxed milk. “I’m lonely,” he shrugged.

“What’s this?” you eyed the treats he offered to you.

“I bought them at the store.” He smiled. “You didn’t eat because you were fighting,”

“Right.” You chuckled at his words before accepting the food. “Thanks, Jiji.”

“No, thank you.” He replied. “But you don’t have to punch people for me next time.”

Once again you laughed quietly. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

A few minutes ago you kind of hated the fact that you got detention, but with Jisung by your side, the one hour actually was unfairly short for your liking.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #stray kids han #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagine #stray kids fanfic

[things-we-used-tc-share]

Don’t follow me you’ll end up in my arms

Ship: Logicality, background Royality

Warnings: Smoking mention

Plot: Logan was entirely sure he would not be loved by Patton, but turns out he’s not the only one doing the following tonight. (Short!fic)

Logan’s feet dangle over the side of a bride, the calm water reflecting the city lights as a cigarette suspends, as precariously as himself, from his lips. There’s a calmness and stillness in staring at the inky waters of night, feeling the air against the cool back of his neck, seeping under the layers of his clothes. He closes his eyes, holding onto the metal and feeling the texture against the nerves of his hands, knuckles almost white with his grip. He isn’t planning on jumping, although the more he thinks the closer the idea creeps to the forefront of his mind.

He hadn’t really planned on falling in love either, even less with his best friend. It’s almost like destiny or fate, or whatever horrible motherfucker with an awful sense of humour that pulls the strings, had set out the paths for him. If that ends here then so be it, Logan is slowly becoming exhausted with surprises, and with being alive in general. He’d been happy to know he would never or could never fall in love, he had always assumed he was too cold for it, too…unnaturally self-centred to look at anyone and decide “yes, I want that person to love me, I want to love them.”

It’s a travesty to find out that’s not how life works, and that finally falling in love is actually as terrifying and horrible as he’d suspected. He’d fallen in love, and then the object of his affection had fallen in love with someone else. What a way to find out what heartbreak is, in the same breath as understanding what it means to fall in love. He flicks the end of his cigarette into the water, slips back over the railings and lands on the pavement. “For a moment I thought you were going to jump,” comes an anxious chuckle. Logan recognises the golden curls and wide-rimmed circular glasses anywhere.

“Sorry to ruin your entertainment,” is the dry response Logan offers back. There’s a beat of silence as he studies his friend in the darkness “What do you need, Patton?” Isn’t that the way is always goes? Patton says jump and Logan asks, ‘how high?’ There’s another static pause, and the smaller shrugs a little, his pale and freckled hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie.

“You,” there’s another silence and Logan shakes his head.

“No, no you don’t,” He steps to the side, away from Patton and away from the cracks in his heart. “Patton I…look, I love you, but not enough to let you string me along,” He shakes his head “I know you don’t feel the same, such is life, but you belong with him, he’s good for you and understands you and…”

“Is completely okay with me being with you too,” There’s a slow quiet that creeps into the air as the words collapse on Logan’s shoulders. He stares, taking a moment for the words to sink in. Is this how relationships are supposed to be? Do they come in threes? He’s not exactly well versed in the world of love of any kind, but last he checked a relationship romantically is of two people. “If you don’t mind sharing, neither does Roman,” Logan does not respond, he isn’t even sure what he should say to that. He doesn’t mind Patton being with someone else but, well, he can’t quite compete with his partner either. He’s sure that’s the wrong mentality to have but it is nevertheless his own thoughts and his own mentality, there is nothing he can quite do about that.

“Is it what you want?” He finally responds, looking at the bright-eyed man before him “Not just to appease me or make me happy, but genuinely what you want?” Patton nods in response, the smile on those pale lips so small and quiet but saying everything Logan needs him to say. The taller does not realise he’s crying until a gentle hand comes up to wipe the tears away slowly. “Why?” He asks, a slight shake of his head feeling almost like a tsunami to Patton.

“Because you’re my best friend, and I’ve loved you in many ways, but this…well this just feels natural, being with you, romantically, it feels right,” He sighs and Logan leans into the hand still resting on his cheek, nodding just slightly although he isn’t sure whether it’s in agreement or simply because he wants to feel the friction of Patton’s palm against his skin. “I told Roman the truth from the get go, how I felt about you that is, I hadn’t really expected you to feel the same, you’ve never really shown an interest in anyone before…then you told me the truth and I realised it was because I was too dumb to recognise it was me you were interested in,” The curly haired man gives a soft laugh, it’s full of dry amusement.

“Roman’s definitely okay with it?”

“You can talk to him yourself if it makes you more comfortable, but yes, he is,”

Logan smiles and sighs, he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the top of Patton’s head, wrapping his arms around the other man. The two stand there, the hum of traffic and their breathing the only sounds in the star lit night. The warm orange streetlamp glows around them, and the waves of the water sway in the lukewarm air. For a moment, all they know is the quiet and their heartbeats, and the soft sounds of accepting they are in love.

--

Ko-Fi

--

@analogical-mess // @unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @creativity-killed-thekitten// @theresneverenoughfandoms // @charmingprincey // @heck-im-lost// @k9cat // @stilljittery // @romansleftshoulderpad // @sanderssideslibrary // @max-is-tired  // @demigodnamedathena // @sevencrashing // @jemthebookworm // @sandersandthesides // @penguinkool // @georganabanana // @ao-koshka // @dangerous-doodle // @hell-or-high-waters // @no-sleep-gang-posts //  @marshmallow-the-panda // @flix-net // @omni-hamiltrash // @an-absolute-failure // @mason-does-a-thing // @iceoblivious // @fandermom // 

#logicality #sanders sides

[abbybubbls]

For Nostalgia (Wilford Warfstache and Darkiplier)

Summary: Dark tries to find Wilford’s pants, but finds something completely different.

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

“Wilford, I have a very important question for you.”

“Yes?”

“Where the fuck are your pants.”

Wilford was being very indecisive that day. It took him half an hour explaining why he couldn’t find his favorite pants with a bunch of side stories that had absolutely nothing to do with Dark’s question. Or maybe Wilford just didn’t want to wear pants and he wanted his story to sound interesting. It all concluded to him not getting fired, so that’s a… plus?

“Can you tell me why you didn’t want to go without pants today?” Dark asked. Wilford felt offended.

“I just told you, I couldn’t find my favorite pair! What, you don’t believe me?”

Dark put his palms together. “Precisely.”

“I’ve looked through my closet for hours,” Wilford pouted. “None of my other pants fit me, that’s all.”

“You just wanted to go waist-down clothless,” Dark replied flatly.

“Not true!” Wilford exclaimed, pointing down at his feet. “I’m wearing socks!”

At least he’s wearing ‘boxers’ too, Dark thought, trying not to look. But it doesn’t explain why he doesn’t have his real damn pants on.

I am innocent, I swear~ Wilford made a smug face while looking at Dark without his lips moving.

Sure you are.

“Why don’t I look through your closet and find your pants myself, Wilford?” Dark asked out loud.

Wilford’s face flinched, exclaiming “No!” before covering his mouth with his hand. Dark’s face stiffened.

“Why not?”

Wilford cleared his throat and chuckled, waving his hand around his face. “O- Oh, you wouldn’t like my closet, Dark. You wouldn’t like my whole room at all! It gets so messy and everything is everywhere- Oh! And it’s so cramped! We both know how much you hate tight spaces!”

“I was just in your room three days ago, Will,” Dark’s tone lowered. “It was perfectly clean since then.”

Wilford scritched his chin. “Y- You know me, Dark. I see no mess, so I create the mess!”

“And I’ve been in worse situations when it comes to tight spaces,” Dark added. “I’m pretty sure your exit-able closet is more tolerable than a broken-as-all-hell elevator that we never use.”

“When you mean ‘we’, you mean you, cuz you’ve never used it since that incident-”

“I know what I meant.”

Wilford huffed and crossed his arms. “Well, I’ve got some things that are super important in my room! What does it take to not disrespect a man’s privacy around here?”

I’m fairly certain you don’t even know the half of it.

Dark eyed behind Wilford, and spotted the Captain Magnum near Wilford’s gun, that was quite dangerously lying on the counter.

“And who cares if I don’t have pants on?! I’ve run around like a moron without them during an interview before, and nobody seems to remember it!”

Dark pointed over Wilford’s shoulder. “Oh hey, Wilford, look. The Captain is touching your gun without your permission.”

Wilford gasped and gripped at his hair. “WHAT HAPPENED TO COMMON DECENCY?!”

He ran down the hallway with Dark covering the side of his face with his hand. “MAGNUM, DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH MY BABY!!!”

“It’s alive?! ”

Dark smirked, and quickly sent himself inside of Wilford’s room.

(Click keep reading, or read on my AO3!)

Just as Dark suspected, everything in the room was spotless. Only a dozen pieces of sticky notes of doodles and interview questions were scattered all over the floor, but it seemed like they were brushed aside near Wilford’s desk mirror right next to his door. Will’s bed was a mess as well, with the blankets draping over the other and pillows flattened, but Dark thinks he likes sleeping like that anyway. There was also a sparkled up fake fireplace with a rack of colorful suspenders hanging above it as if they’d be stockings, with the red-faded-to-pink pair hanging at the dead center.

I’m sure those all won’t overheat and catch on fire. Sarcasm.

Dark bumped into the closet door, seeing that the frame reaches to the very ceiling of Wilford’s whole room. It’s not like Captain Magnum is ever gonna sneak in, why is it so tall? No matter. Dark opened the closet door, only for an avalanche of clothes to fall right on top of him. Not enough to make him stumble over, for Dark is as sturdy as a boulder.

Dark yanked all the clothes off of him, and saw that MOST of them… were shirts. The clothes that were pants though…! Were either stained, torn up, or just straight up too small. Dark was going to suggest in his head that Wilford could wear his collection of tight shorts like layers, but that’d make him appear too… big.

“Goddammit, Will.”

Dark stepped over the pile of clothes to hesitantly get himself inside of the closet. His head bumps against a light bulb with a pulley-switch next to it. Dark didn’t really need to turn the light on because since he was wearing his new white suit for a change, and he’d practically be glowing more easier that way with his twins’ auras and such.

But just because he can, Dark turned the light on by pulling the switch. The closet was a tiny bit smaller than the elevator he never uses, but at least there’s an escape route. Dark looked around every nook and cranny in the closet to at least find one, one good pair of pants that isn’t too revealing, and so that Wilford would give in to wearing until he finds his ‘most favorite’ pair soon. But if that doesn’t happen, it could be the goldfish situation where Dark buys or makes the same pair, and Wilford wouldn’t even know the difference.

There was a very tall shelf at the end of the closet, and Dark tried to reach up to the top to grab something, any thing… only to have a tan round thing fall off and land on the floor. Dust was flying, enough dust for Dark to almost hack and choke on while coughing it all away. And waving his hand around was definitely helping. “What the hell-?”

As soon as the dust died down to the floor, Dark rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. The helmet rolled on its side for a moment, and wobbled near the wall. It was Wilford’s old old old old old pith helmet.

Dark stared at it for a long minute, knowing perfectly well that Wilford wouldn’t remember having this helmet, not even remember being a colonel.

Dark picked the helmet up from the floor, and gently brushed the dust away. He looked up at the shelf. “He wouldn’t happen to have the rest, would he…?”

A corner of a sleeve was hanging from the very top of the shelf. To avoid the possibility of getting dust all over the place again, Dark put the helmet down on a lower shelf and stood on his tip-toes, and reached up with both of his hands tugging on edges of old linty clothing. His grip on both edges tightened, and he slowly lifted a neatly folded pile of bright tan clothes off the top of the shelf.

“No,” Dark muttered, blinking away dust. “There is no way…”

Indeed, it was 100% Wilford’s old outfit for when he was a colonel from the early 1900’s. Dark already had questions running through his head. How in the world does Wilford still have this? When did he put it in the closet? Why does Wilford still have this outfit after all these years, even when he’s so far gone from who he was?

Dark slowly brushed the grime and lint off of a small, silver winged metal that is still pinned on the coat. Same with a red and white metal on the other side.

Dark had no idea where Will’s red ascot went, it probably faded to pink like his suspenders and turned into the bowtie he still wears to this day. And Will’s glasses were definitely snapped apart, or shattered, or burnt when he realized that even seeing clearly didn’t matter to him anymore. All that is left is the pith helmet, the coat, pants (finally!), and the boots, which were surprisingly very well hidden in the darkness of the bottom shelf. Will shouldn’t have these.

Wilford’s voice from outside of his room gradually got louder, but that didn’t phase Dark at all. He had a few questions to ask. Chances are, Wilford might not know all the answers, but it’s worth a try to ask anyway.

“You may be taller than all of us, but it ain’t gonna phase me, Captain!” Wilford shouted, shaking a fist. “You wanna know why? Cuz Warfstache don’t take no sh(BLEEP!)t from nobody! ”

With a slam of his door, Wilford looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I should really fix that swear-detector thing.”

“Wilford.”

Wilford hiccuped, seeing Dark standing right in front of him with his hat, boots, and the rest of Will’s outfit in his hands. “Hiiiiiiiii…!”

Dark’s face was frozen in place, stern. “Care to explain to me what these are all about?”

Wilford was grinning nervously. “W- Well, they’re um- they’re winter clothes!”

“We live in Ca-”

“Traveling vacation winter clothes!”

“You know, depending on how much Mark uses us for projects, we’re technically almost always on vacation,” Dark said. “We’ve never traveled once.”

Wilford’s face dropped, and Dark took a step forward.

“So, Wilford,” he continued. “What are these clothes here for?”

“I- I found it in a zoo! I won it for a bet!”

“Wilford.”

“I don’t know!” Wilford exclaimed, throwing fists like a child. “I’ve always had them in my closet! I don’t remember what they’re for, but they give me warm fuzzy feelings, maybe a tiny memory or two.”

“A bad memory or a good memory?”

“I dunno, does it matter that much to you?” Wilford asked. “The good and bad don’t matter to me, cuz they’re useless memories! Memories that’ll come back and disappear from my head like always!”

Dark didn’t know exactly what to say to that. Why would he care about somebody else’s memories and whether they’d be good or bad? It’s like having someone constantly looking over your shoulder. Sure, Dark has been invasive when it came to Wilford being a pain in the ass, but Dark only did it because he didn’t want Wilford to cause any more trouble than he already did.

Wilford pouted with his arms crossed, and looked down at the floor as if he’s been ashamed of himself… for some reason. Dark stared down at the pile of clothes in his hands. His grip tightened, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Will,” he muttered. Wilford blinked at him. “I didn’t mean to make this appear as a bigger deal than it should be.”

And all of this started because of pants.

“Have you…” Dark continued. “Worn this outfit lately?”

Wilford’s frustrated and hurt face softened. “Not in a while, no.”

“I was just wondering because of how much dust it was collecting,” Dark’s tone went gentle. “Have you thought about wearing it?”

Wilford’s hands were gripping on his sleeves loosely. “Kind of.”

Silence filled the room. Dark’s hands leaned forward. “Here. You can wear it. If you’d like.”

Without saying anything, Wilford hesitantly held the outfit out of Dark’s hands, and kicked some clothes out of his way as he headed inside his closet. Dark sat down at the edge of Wilford’s bed, waiting patiently.

A moment later, and Dark heard the closet door open. The familiar sound of boots slowly walking on the floor filled the room, and Dark saw Wilford in the entire outfit. He looked the same as he did a long time ago, only the mustache stands out a LOT more now than it did before.

Wilford was still doing the last few buttons of his coat as he left the closet, and Dark just noticed the wearing out on them. The belt around Wilford’s waist was a bit loose, but there was nothing for it to hold anyway.

“How does wearing all of that make you feel?” Dark asked.

Wilford’s hands rubbed all over his arms, and he tucked his face in his collar. “Warm, mostly! Gives me a trip of nostalgia.”

“You know how you said earlier you don’t remember what the outfit was for?” Dark asked, head tilting. “Maybe nostalgia is why.”

The front tip of the pith helmet was hiding Wilford’s eyes, which he did not like. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t remember a whole lot, just a few baby pieces.”

“I see no problem with that,” Dark replied, smiling gently. His watch hidden in his sleeve beeped. “Meeting. Wilford, do you want to go dressed like that?”

Wilford took his helmet off, tossed it on his bed, and ruffled his hair. He and Dark went over to his door. “Why not? It’s cozy and makes me feel good. And I did find pants so you wouldn’t be staring at me all day~”

As Wilford opened the door, Dark smacked his back. “Shut up.”

#markiplier #a heist with markiplier #who killed markiplier #takes place after the 'The Interview' ending #wilford warfstache #darkiplier #darkstache #i've posted this on DA and AO3 #why am i so nervous posting this on tumblr #probably because i'm a noob in this site #oh well

[dirkgentle]

cont. with @drdumaurier​

                                 Well, here they go. Yet another fulfilling day of pointless testing and questions after questions after questions after questions that really don’t seem to be going anywhere. Dirk is thoroughly past the point of being bloody fed-up with it. It’s become merely a ... state of existence as any other. He might just as well be annoyed by having to go through the trouble of breathing or wasting energy on the movement of his eyeballs. Some things ARE. There’s nothing you can do about it. Besides, even now, even here, every day always holds just the TINIEST splinter of hope: sometimes it’s a portion of food he likes, such as the baked beans last week, sometimes it’s that he’s actually allowed to squiggle a few doodles on a spare piece of paper, even if they’re usually taken away for examination and analysis. ( For this very reason, some of them tend to turn out a little ruder than strictly necessary. ) Today, he gets to speak to a real person. It’s ... quite something. Nobody ever speaks to him, not since Colonel Riggins was disposed of in the same quiet, razor-sharp, efficient manner that’s become Dirk’s reality. He hasn’t got a sliver of a doubt that the choice to keep him suspended in this permanent little bubble of wordlessness and complete interpersonal isolation is a highly conscious one. They WANT him desperate. They want him opening up to the therapist whose name remains a great unknown to him for no other reason than the need to be acknowledged as a human being. Or, well --- perhaps ‘human’ is not quite the right term. Is it? He’s not sure anymore. 

            A small sigh rises in his chest, shaky with infinite done-ness, when the woman opposite him refuses to answer even this most simplistic plea. In his head, he’s begun to call her the No-Answers-Lady. Amazingly, speech seems to be a one-way street to her: useful only to procure information, not to deliver it. No point, then, in trying to find out what the weather is like outside. What colours the leaves have turned. Whether it’s chilly at all, or whether they are, in fact, in the middle of the deepest, most hotly-boiling, heatwave-y summer since the beginning of time. Sunshine never makes its way so far underground. What’s it like to walk out of here after every session, he wonders? What kind of life does No-Answers-Lady lead outside of her job? Does she have a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Any group of friends that are completely fine being questioned all day and never receiving anything in return? Or is there an unseen, unsuspected Answers-Lady concealed under that stony mask of ‘No’? Maybe she’s the chatty type in real life. Perhaps she’s used up all her words talking to her bestie on the phone just before stepping into the interrogation room. In any case, she seems unusually restless today. The uneasy energy emitted by the beetle-sized agitation that is the tapping of her fingers stirs up a similar commotion in Dirk. He squirms fretfully in his chair, but it doesn’t get him far, seeing as he’s tied to the armrests by his wrists, superfluously enough. What do they think he’s going to do to her, investigate a hole into her chest? { Oh, but you’ve done worse, Icarus. }

                                                                                                    “ It doesn’t ‘work’. At least not in a way that could possibly be of any use to you. It ... functions the same way my cells do, unthinkingly and naturally and, I suppose, blindly following the regime of some strange powerhouse nobody can truthfully claim to actually understand. ” The same can be said of the prison cell that is his personal room, really. He’s spending all his time being a bunch of useless cells sitting in an even more nonsensical cell, unable to do anything with the so-called powers his jailers are trying to break apart by sheer force. And this woman has the nerve to keep asking? He’s said this SO MANY times. The next words, too, ring out tinny and bored, as if they’re being played on an old record. “ I was only a detective for a very short time, because your lot thought it would be much more sensible to shackle me up in front of a lottery machine and hurt me until I somehow, by chance alone, manage to guess the correct numbers. Which NEVER happens. Because it, whatever it is, doesn’t work like that, whatever work means, and whatever you’d like ‘like that’ to be like. Like it or not. I --- like, I mean, look, I’m just ... trying to do the right thing. I go where I’m needed, and if I don’t, the things that need me usually come my way. I’m not making any conscious choice or effort. Now, please, just for once, let’s ... let’s talk about LITERALLY ANYTHING other than this? I’m --- I’m so sick of having to repeat myself all the sodding time. Tell me something interesting. What films are being played at the cinema right now? Are they still doing such a major disservice to Thor’s hair? ” { He’s expecting to receive an electric shock any second now. Where is the deity of thunder when you really need him?! }

#drdumaurier #i'm not psychic. this isn't how it works! ( blackwing!verse ) #[ first of all: save this boy who looks dead inside and is about to burst into angry tears #secondly: amazing how dirk's default mode of thinking when it comes to couples is 'gay' #wondering whether bedelia has a gf and then being like oh yeah or maybe a bf too i heard that's a thing that Actually Exists #also someone explain him the function of the mitochondria ]

[cabinofimagines]

Whistle

Wow great title

Jason x Y/n

Rating: F and A for Fucking Angst Fluff and Angst

By: Admin Day

A/N:  WOW WHAT IS THIS TRASH. I'M SORRY I'M TIRED AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING.

The wind was rough today, whipping through your hair and messing up your neat style, "Leo!" You shouted harshly, chasing after the snickering Latino who had made fun of your lack of ability just minutes ago at the amphitheater.

You were sitting on one of the benches around the unlit bonfire since it was mid-day, humming a tune to yourself as you doodled some random drawings on your notepad, artist or not, you drew to pass the time on free days. At one point your humming turned to whistling, which would be great if you knew how to.

You huffed and ceased your drawing to concentrate on making the high-pitched noise, you never understood why you couldn't get the hang of it, most kids were able to do by the age of 7 or 8 but here you were in your teens, the most progress you've made towards whistling was simply blowing air through puckered lips.

A snicker coming from your left caught your attention immediately, a familiar mop of black, curly hair bobbing into view with a mischevious glint in his chocolate brown eyes and a smirk to match. Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus, otherwise known as repair boy.

"Can't whistle, huh? Aren't you supposed to learn that when you're young?" He teased with a cocky tone, puckering his lips and whistling just to spite you.

"Shut up, Valdez." You growled as a warning, you've had enough of his constant and unnecessary teasing from this past week and were not about to endure it anymore.

He whistled loudly while staring you dead in the eyes, "Or what?"

And now here you were chasing after the boy with the intent to seriously mess up his face, or at least give him a fat lip so he could no longer whistle.

You were just in reach of Leo's dangling suspenders that had slipped off when strong arms gripped you around the waist and prevented you from further chasing repair boy, "Woah, Woah, Woah, what in Zeus' name are you doing right now?" Questioned a chuckling voice, a familiar one at that.

You blow a piece of hair out of your face and look over your shoulder at your captor, Jason Grace, aka your boyfriend of 4 months.

He looked down at you with smiling eyes and a warm grin, "Well? I'm waiting." He joked while turning you loose from his hold but still keeping your arm on lock down.

You sigh and look after the son of Hephaestus who stood by his cabin with a smug expression resting on his elfish features, blowing a kiss towards you tauntingly.

You let out a low growl but turn your attention back to Jason who was still waiting for your reply. Sighing and dropping your gaze you mumble quietly, "I can't whistle...."

Jason furrows his brow and leans closer to you, he hadn't heard you clearly and questioned further, "What was that?"

"I SAID I CAN'T WHISTLE, JASON." You shouted loudly, causing him to draw back in fear of your sudden loudness, "Leo's making fun of me because I can't whistle."

'He's going to make fun of me too.' You thought bitterly, jerking your arm free and marching away from the still laughing Latino and a confused Jason. You were hurt that Jason and Leo could make fun of your inability, even if Jason hadn't said a word yet, you were pretty sure he would.

"Y/n, wait!"

Jason entrapped your arm once more, tilting his head sideways, a small smile present on his face as he asked something that shocked you,

"Want me to teach you?"

Leo's smile dropped once he saw Jason wrap an arm around your shoulder's and bring you to his cabin. He was hoping that maybe you would chase after him out to the bunker where he'd let you catch him and then well.... he'd kiss you and confess his feelings.

But no. You didn't get that far, all thanks to Jason Grace, who also has taken a liking to you without knowledge of the repair boy's feelings.

He sighed and slumped down onto the steps of his cabin, his elbow coming up to his knee and his head resting in the palm of his hand.

"This always happens to me, everyone finds some hero and forgets about me." He muttered distastefully as he glared at the laughing pair walk inside cabin one together, "Betcha they're going in there to suck faces off or something."

Leo stayed there for a good hour and a half just drawing in the dirt, tinkering with miscellaneous objects from his toolbelt, and watching. He keeps his chocolate brown eyes locked on that pearly white cabin, just waiting for that door to open up and for Y/n to come out.

If it wasn't too late, Leo was determined to tell Y/n how he feels and hopefully, his feelings will be returned.

You walk out of Jason's cabin with a huge grin, you felt the need to show off your new melodic ability to the world. Whistling the tune to one of your favorite songs caused a few odd looks to be cast your way along with some thumbs up from some Apollo kids.

You stumbled over a rock and tripped into a body, an 'oof' emitting from the person, "I'm so sorry!" You said immediately apologizing and moving away with your head down, not bothering to even look up at who you fell into.

A hot hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you back to the strange person, "Can people stop grabbing my arm?" You groan while pulling your arm free, a small chuckle coming from the person, "Sorry about that, just needed to get your attention."

You look up to see a mischievous grin and twinkling brown eyes locked on your own, "Leo? What do you mean?" You questioned confusedly.

Leo sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, "Please don't hate me."

Now you were seriously confused slash worried about this son of Hephaestus, just and hour or so ago he was teasing you about your inability and you haven't spoken to him since so... that must be what he's talking about. Right?

"Huh? Is this about earlier? I mean I was going to kick your ass but Jason stoppe-    "

Soft lips pressed against your own shut you up instantly, your mind going blank with surprise and a muffled cry of shock emitting from your mouth.

After 15 short seconds of kissing, your realization of what was going on came back to you and you shoved him away, holding a hand over your lips in shock of what just happened,

"L-Leo!" You stuttered, "What did you just do?"

Leo looked down bashfully at his worn converse shoes and muttered his answer softly, "I kissed you, I like you a lot, Y/n."

Your heart stopped, chills running down your spine as if you'd just been hit with freezing cold water. You feared the worst for yours and Leo's friendship, for you didn't see him in that light, you just couldn't.

"Lee..."

He sighed and smiled at you sadly, "It's okay, I didn't think you'd like me back anyways, I just..." He trailed off slowly, "Needed it to get it off my chest."

You open your mouth to speak but could not find the words, and so, he walked off like a kicked puppy towards the woods, presumably to bunker 9.

You begin to walk after him, wanting to fix the breaking friendship, but yet again Jason had appeared and stopped you unknowingly.

"Hey babe," the blue-eyed boy spoke, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek, bringing you back to earth, "You look like someone doused you in cold water." He laughed.

You nod, still staring after your retreating friend, "That's what I feel like right now." You sigh and lean your head against Jason's firm shoulder, "Jason... do you think we should have told Leo about us?"

Jason paused, wrapping an arm around your waist while staring off into space. He wasn't sure why this was brought up but figured you were just worried about lying to a close friend, "I mean... if that's what you want, I guess we can."

You brought your hands up to your face and sighed deeply, "It's about time for everyone to know Jase."

Jason nodded in agreement and kissed the top of your head while reaching down with his free hand to move your hands away from your face, "Okay, let's do it."

Frank knocked on the door of the open bunker before waltzing in and looking around while calling out for Leo, "Hey, Leo, you in here? Jason said he needs to say something to all of us."

Leo rolled out from underneath Festus's body on a mechanic's creeper, motor oil and grease streaked across his cheek and eyebrow, "Can't you just tell me about it later? I'm kind of busy here."

"No, now come one." Frank scolded.

"I'm not going."

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Leo."

"Frank."

Frank huffed, shaking his head in annoyance, "Leo Valdez, you're coming even if I have to drag you there by your pointy elf ears!" He marched over and pulled Leo up by his suspenders, the boy yelping and whining as he was dragged out the door.

"For a baby Chinese Canadian man, you're pretty strong..." Leo grumbles, pushing Frank off and trudging alongside him instead.

It was quiet for most of the way back to cabin 1 until Frank spoke up, breaking the awkward silence, "Are you okay? You don't seem like yourself right now..."

Leo's head turned instantly at the sound of his question, "Yeah I'm okay but," He paused, pursing his lips in a nervous manner, "Will... Y/n be there?"

Frank nodded and smiled, "Yeah, I know you like her being around, I see the way you look at her. So when are you going to confess?"

Leo stayed quiet.

"I mean, I have a feeling she likes you too," Frank reassured with a kind smile, nudging Leo with his elbow.

"Yeah..."

You paced back and forth, biting your nails nervously and thinking of how everyone could react to your relationship. How would Piper react to this? She was Jason's ex after all, sure things ended on a good note but... there still had to be old feelings... right? You groan and sit on Jason's sleeping bag with legs criss crossed, "Ugh I really wished we hadn't kept this a secret..."

Jason looked across the room at you. He'd been watching you drive yourself crazy with worry for too long. He shuffled over to you and sat in front of you, his head resting on his hand as he stared at you with worried eyes... those big blue eyes...

"Y/n, it'll be fine, I promise. Everyone is going to be happy for us." He reassured, "We're all friends first before anything, and friends are supposed to be happy for each other, right?"

You slowly nodded and leaned back onto the comfy sleeping bag just as the door creaked open to reveal all of your friends.

"Hey, Jase and Y/n," Percy greeted with a wave and a small lopsided smile, "Nico said you wanted to talk about something...?"

Jason nodded with a grin, grabbing your hand with his own and pulling you off the floor, "Well," He spoke, looking over at you with loving eyes,

"Y/n and I have been dating," He confessed, eye darting over his friends, lingering on his ex-girlfriend longer than the others to gauge her reaction, "...For the past 4 months."

Leo coughed suddenly which caused everyone to pause and glance over, including you.

"I'm so... happy for you guys. Just don't do any of that gross coupley stuff around me like these two do." He joked with sad eyes, jabbing his thumb in the direction of Nico and Will who were currently holding hands.

You hated seeing him so upset; you definitely should have told him sooner. You blamed yourself for his sadness, if you hadn't kept your infatuation with Jason such a huge secret then maybe you could have stopped his feelings before they got too serious.

You return the same sad smile and opened your mouth to say something, anything, to at least show some kind of sympathy for his position at the moment. You've been in this position before with someone you loved, the person never noticing you and never acknowledging your feelings for them, but you got over it eventually and you hope Leo could do the same.

Leo laughed as the others started congratulating you, "Well I need to finish up some... repairs, so see you guys later!" He rushed out before backing out the door to go back to the bunker to be alone.

The only thing he needed to repair that day was his heart.

.

.

.

.

~Day

#jason grace imagine #Jason Grace x Reader #jason grace #jason grace imagines #Leo Valdez #leovaldez #leo imagine #leo x reader #Heroes of Olympus #heroes of olympus imagine #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus imagines #angst #fluff #You probably hate this #I'm sorry

[sarcastic-commie-blog]

Rant Thingy

Hey. I kinda just wanted to vent so here I go.

First off, I hate popular kids. They don't really do anything wrong most of the time, just the vibe they give off makes me hate them deeply. It's weird I know. But anyways, I have this friend. She told me she doesn't really want to be associated with some of the people in our friend group because of what they've done over the summer. Some of the friends have done illegal things on their own accord, and understandably, she doesn't want to be known as a girl like that. Another friend has just been annoying to her for like 5 years and she's just kinda done. She told me she wants to be more social and more popular. At first I was like 'um okay' but when I asked 'what kids do you want to hang out with?' She started to list off some people who are hella bitchy and mean. I'm really scared, I have hella bad anxiety, and I don't want one of my best friends of over at least 5 years drift to that side of the social platform. Seriously, a girl a few grades above me was like that and she got suspended/expelled (idk which) for selling weed brownies in the hallway of the highschool.

I really want to convince this friend that it's a really REALLY bad idea to do this, but she's not only stubborn, she's determined. This friend is also infamous for as soon as she breaks up with a guy, a few hours later she finds another guy. I love and hate this girl at the same time. I don't know what to do and I'm really stressed out.

Let me also say I'm the type of person that puts my friends above me at all costs. So yeah. I also just started highschool and the place is really confusing and idk if I'll be to class on time hhhh everything is so stressful I can't.

Right now I'm being hella edgy and listening to mcr and doing some doodling to relieve some stress, but it isn't helping much :///

I also have this friend who is in the special ed. Category of kids, but she's really sweet and hella funny. She's being bullied online on Instagram by some fuckboys and she told me during English class at the end of the day last Friday and I was ready to get my ass kicked out of school for beating the shit out of these gelled-up-haired-hoverboard-using-ass motherfuckers. Hopefully it'll be resolved soon.

Then there's my other friend who I'm also really worried about- fuck I'm working myself to much hhhh- and she's in my wellness/health class. We're really close, and she's been through a LOT. I'm usually there to comfort her so I feel it's my duty to support her for any shit that goes down. Without going into too much detail, I'll say she was sexually assaulted (she was raped in other words) by a highschooler. She's really uncomfortable being in health since we'll be talking about sex-ed, and whenever sexual assault or harassment is brought up, she usually spaces out and has a silent panic attack. I don't sit near her so I won't be able to see if she is okay or not during that unit ;__;

What else.. ok. Um I'm scared of not being able to make it to class on time?? I can't carry all my binders in my backpack at once and I barely know the layout of the school,,, I'm just a freshman in this new building which is three floors. Hell, I still need to use a bloody map. I won't get much homework since I'm in the lower classes (bless) and I'm not in gym class because of how low my self-confidence is (blESS) but my locker is on the second floor, there are seven periods, the schedule is hella confusing, my locker is really hard to open (you need to really use force hhh), and lunch is really short. I'm just a hot mess rn. Then again when am I not one.

Uhh life update I guess? I just moved some posters into my new room. I have two aot ones, two loz ones, and a red army eddsworld poster my biological mother @ourvalentinesnight blessed me with on my birthday <333. I just god some hella dorky Loz collecters cards and a triforce pin which is now on my backpack lmao. I also have some aot pins on their of the scouting regimine and another one I'm too lazy to get up and look at despite it being right across the room.

I think I've ranted enough now. My fingers are numb and my thumbs are sore. Listening to P!ATD >:3c

Sarcastic Cuntbag out :O