#and my brain is like. spinning out a bit focus-wise

[tj-crochets]

I cannot focus because I just want to work on a puzzle so I am outsourcing this decision lol *when I made the stingray pattern I realized as I was cutting out the fabric the tail was too short and too narrow so I just cut the tail by eyeballing it but I really should fix the paper pattern before I share it **I made a great orange and black halloween-y dress to fit 18" dolls, intending to make a black cat to wear it and give it to my friend. But I messed up a little making the black cat and changed the shape of its face and then put it in a poofy white pirate shirt and space bell bottoms and somehow, despite looking nothing like Howl Moving Castle, it feels exactly like Howl Moving Castle and I cannot bring myself to put it back in the dress ***an experiment in using scrap fabric and scrap batting for plushie filling! He is Very Dense and very cuddly but currently faceless because I originally intended to make him a mothman but I am considering making him a Creature so I can use another pair of embroidered eyes. Probably the green ones.

#the person behind the yarn #I had a pretty severe health flare up last week #I am okay now! but some of my health issues being endocrine related #means that sometimes flareups kinda disrupt my equilibrium a bit #and my brain is like. spinning out a bit focus-wise #it'll even out eventually but until it does it is hard to decide what to make lol #(the yellow and purple fabric is currently lying on the floor in the middle of my room) #(like a rug. it lives there now)

[kradeelav]

so one of the technical bits i challenged myself with this gunter/corrin doujin was to:

(a) figure out an efficient process for professional multi-page artistic works in linux/true OSS programs - from ideation all the way to printer hand-off.

and

(b) a process that fit well with my brain and kept me from spinning my wheels endlessly redoing pages. it's a common problem with longer projects (aka why you see reboots of webcomics all the time, and also why i haven't been able to get "what greater sin" out for three years cuz i sucked at this lol).

why the focus on process though?

after mastering a certian degree of technical proficiency. it's what separates the hobbyist artists from the pros. not to toot my horn, but i'm quite good at project management process at work, and about two years ago it dawned on me to take some of that learned knowledge and actually apply it here if only to save eyestrain/wrist-strain time.

work lazier smarter, not harder etc.

before i get into the process outline, there's two programs that are doing the heavy lifting since i gave them a trial run with the last anthology and they worked great in tandem. (both cost no money and are available on all major OS's btw)

krita, my main drawing program. sketching/inking/speech bubbles/coloring/vector stuff can all be done here.

libreoffice writer - basically microsoft word for linux. i use it for arranging multiple pages, reordering, and exporting as .pdf to give to the printer (while amazing at rendering, krita can't export as pdf or show multi-pages)

so!

process wise, it occurred to me not too long ago that i needed to consolidate my multi-page creative projects into 3 major gates.

thumbnail sketches

proof of concept layout

"last 10" final

thumbnail sketches

thumbnails are a common concept in comics, but they're great for print front/back matter too. thumbnails ain't here to look pretty, their sole purpose to get the idea from your noggin to on the page.

here's a completely unaltered spread from my journal with a ton of thumbs and notes for this doujin.

so what's the kind of stuff i think about with thumbs?

how panels in a comic fit together with the major emotional beats + line of action. does the eye follow the pages naturally? do you "feel" the emotional impact?

does the compositions work with each other? negative/positive space, weight on top or bottom or diagonally, etc. do the pages feel claustrophobic or too empty? do they breathe?

decorative framing elements that reflect the tone you want + how they generally lead the eye across the page

random notes about overall tone or potential future pages

etcetc

at this point i import that digitally, and start drawing a proper sketch off of it.

fast forward from that sketch to:

"proof of concept" layout

i'm calling this proof of concept instead of a draft as they serve different purposes. a draft is a half-finished work you can just screenshot and show to anyone for feedback (like comms). proof of concept here is showing a certian level of completeness across draft pages to measure consistency.

lack of consistency is the mind killer killer of comics.

proof of concept is specifically meant to nip the 'fizzled out halfway' issues in the bud. it's to show you how cool it looks altogether already, but also shed a light on problem areas that are potentially popping up on the earlier side, so there's less time wasted.

this is a little premature in the process for a proof of concept screenshot, but you get the idea here in a later strip, shown here as screenshots imported into libreoffice writer:

another reason that made libreoffice writer essential is the accurate 2-page spread view. between that, being able to resize the page to whatever you need, and the very easy pdf exporter (with customizable compression), i don't know if i could do this kind of project here.

now, backing up - what kinds of consistency are we checking for here?

does the inking/coloring style change noticeably in a jarring way?

is there one comic strip that the pacing/paneling sucks in comparison to the others? or feels awkwardly added in tone and perhaps better saved for a different project?

is there one panel within a sequential series that's torturing you? what's the best way to throw it out and redo it even faster?

do the front/back matter support the meat of the inside in a clever, on-tone way?

did you accidentally change the font halfway through after you liked your new shiny toy? which one works better?

etc

keep in mind we're not just checking the consistency in one strip, it's for the book as a whole.

and then lastly,

"the last ten" final

"the last ten" is a mental concept i've used for the last ten years for single comic pages. it's especially tempting to noodle over endlessly making one comic page perfect, when you could have done ten reasonably good ones in the same time, and so i made this my last step making IC pages.

once when you approach a level of reasonably done, but kinda hate the page and are procrastinating on getting it out, stop, rest your eyes overnight, and list the last ten minor things you'd change.

once when you've changed those? out the door it goes.

i'm gonna switch to a different project but here's a good example of a "last ten" stage applied to illustrations when i did fallen!gunter's FEH mockups.

looks pretty complete, right? WRONG :D

i can't remember the exact last ten i used, but it was something like:

too much of one specific glowy purple on both, i wanted more contrast with the red glow + "water" texture

needed more effects on the first image to better match FEH's aesthetic

change Leigh's credits after they got a chance to see it and give the thumbs up

knee/shin on left looks unfinished painting wise, clean up

missing chest plate silver decorations on left, clean up

etc

this is the last hail mary check to hack your brain into being satisfied with the page. you've had your say, onwards to the next one.

now, you can also have an additional 'last ten' for the project as a whole. but it's especially critical for comic pages to help keep the momentum/tempo/pace going.

anyway!

we'll see how all of this actually works in practice depending on how fast i can get this doujin out. :)

#not art #resource #ashes and ghost

[covecornerarchive]

corbinthemysterypirate asked:

I wanna know, since it seems that most people don't really realize this but, are there any other kids in candle cove. And if so has Janice ever met them, how does she react to others?

Ok, I can only really speak for my au, not other people's, but yes there are other kids in candle cove besides Janice, it's just that she's the only one there from our world.

I know on the wiki Nathan is mentioned as another kid member of the Laughingstock Crew who was Janice's neighbor in the real world, but because I think that's kind of distracting and takes away from Janice being the focus of the story (and creates a HUGE plot hole for my au's world building) in my version he's also a puppet like everyone else. He's also a little older than Janice in my version, about 13 (just to make sense out of why Calvary seems more chill with him being on the crew than Janice at first), and while he and Janice are pretty close friends and can come to each other as kids about stuff in a way they can't with the other adults I also cut the tid-bit about them having a crush on each other out cuz, again I made him older and it felt like another distracting thing.

There's also Auburn! I don't nearly talk about her as much as I should considering how much she rots my brain (again just referring to her in my own au not the wiki). In my version Thade and Lillian aren't her biological parents, but rather she was a stowaway on the Tarantula ship (for reasons I'll get into later) and was just sort of...adopted by the crew over time? Lillian did practically become her mom and while it's more difficult to discern what relationship she had with Thade, since I hesitate to call him a dad sometimes because they feel like a more terrorizing little sister and very tired older brother duo, they were all family none the less. This also means Auburn was there for Red Mary's attack on the crew though, and along with Thade and Percy, was the only survivor (though the other two aren't aware of this and presumed her to be dead since they were separated).

I can't really get into her too much since I also have a big sequel au where the good guys and bad guys team up to defeat Red Mary and Auburn is involved in a big way, but the basic gist is after the attack she was just on a hellbent path for revenge which ended up getting her involved in a bunch of magic stuff, as well as hurting others and herself. In the same au she does end up joining the team and by this time both her and Janice are a bit older, Janice 14 and Auburn 16, but they actually get along great. Much like how Janice has Thade parallels in her characterization and story arc, Auburn has a lot of parallels to Lillian in the same way, so the two of them have a similary dynamic personality wise. Janice honestly just thinks Auburn is super cool and learns much more about magic and abyssians through her, and Janice helps Auburn give herself a break and move past some of the survivors guilt from the attack on the crew and how she was never able to avenge her mother on her own. I think they may also bond over losing their moms at young ages and having to live without them.

I've always loved to imagine Janice, Nathan, and Auburn just being this super chaotic trio of rag tag kids doing pirate crimes and getting into trouble. Auburn is usually the one to start chaos, Nathan tries to stop her, and while Janice helps her with it she's also usually the one to get them all out of it. It's their thing :] They should have like....a "Traumatized pirate kids who have been through some shit" therapy group they all need it.

Also, even though in my version she never actually makes it to the cove itself, me and a few friends on discord have come up with this sort of spin off story focusing on Melrose and what's happening back in Ohio after Janice goes missing that has more of that og candle cove cursed tv show feel than the main candle cove story I have where the feel is more aligned with grimm fairytales.

It's basically Melrose, who's going through guilt hell after Janice goes missing, seeing her sister in candle cove on the TV one day, basically the actual candle cove show described in the og creepypasta. Because everyone else only sees static though, she feels like she's going crazy, until one day a kid from school tells her "I saw your sister on TV too." From there Mel and a few other kids who have also witnessed the show (all oc's I'll share later) form this little group aiming to figure out what the hell's going on and to hopefully get Janice back from where ever she went. It sort of has that 80's horror movie vibe with the group of kids banding together over weird shit happening to them and having to solve a mystery or face off against something evil before it's too late. It's fun, it'll be fun I'm definitely not going to drag them all through trauma.

(April 12, 2022)

[dinitride-art]

Lighting and El and Hopper - Full Analysis (pt.55)

The hospital scene was kind of the catalyst from the calm in the after gates opened, to the cabin scene and everything that follows. That means things are going to be bad. On a positive note that means there’s a lot of stuff to look at. 

S4:E9 - Reunions (#1)

After the car pulls up, interrupting the cabin scene, we cut to El. She’s cleaning her room. Wee see that there’s a green coke bottle under her bed that she’s reaching for. She reaches for this with her right hand- the one with the heart ring- and we can actually see it pretty clearly in this shot. There’s also spiderwebs- so that’s our first piece of Vecna related imagery in this scene. 

We focus on this bottle pretty intensely. It’s the one from when she played spin-the-bottle, spy on a random person, with Max. Also in this specfic frame (and it does stay in frame for all of this shot, but the camera angle moves around a bit and it starts sliding out) are El’s yellow bedsheets. 

And we slide up to see two windows with yellow curtains. 

El is once again in the light. But it’s not a soft light- or a harsh white one, it’s like it was at the hospital with Max. (I can’t find a term for it at the moment- but it’s purpose is to guide our eyes to El. It’s either hard lighting or high-key lighting. Because the lighting is obscuring parts of the form it’s hitting/El and I think that’s overexposure. But there aren’t really any deep shadows present on El so I’m not sure what the technical term for this is. Yet.) Our attention is being drawn from the bottle to her. 

But looking at the background, we can see that the windows also are rather bright. They are our source of light within the show (like story wise. But the light on El is probably artificial) so it makes sense for them to look like that. But the way the shadows are shaped at the bottom half of the shot are drawing our eyes upwards to El and the yellow curtains. The windows are important. 

When El spins the bottle we see her heart ring clearly once again. Her heart ring has been repeatedly connected to Max: when she was fighting Vecna, at the hospital, and now with the bottle. It’s was on the hadn’t she used to restart Max’s heart, but it’s still being used in reference to Max. So, it might’ve been foreshadowing Max’s heart stopping, but it’s also being used after that came to pass. Lines like, “You’re the heart!” in this season also make it possible that this goes further than El physically starting Max’s heart. 

This bottle’s also green which is commonly used with Mike and Will (s2- lightning bolt changing from yellow to green, Mike’s green jackets in s1 and s3, blue + yellow = green. etc.) and now With Robin and Vicky. Vicky was wearing green earrings and there was a lot of yellow and blue scattered around their scene at Hawkins High. 

But why is green connected to gay people? Well, alliteration. For one. But more seriously- and I’ve said this before but it still lives in my brain rent free- in season one at Will’s funeral. Mike was wearing a green jacket and a green and dark red tie. Jennifer Hayes was wearing red. The flashback scene that takes place right after Will’s funeral is of Joyce and Will. And Will’s using a green crayon for Will the Wise’s fireballs because he didn't have a red one. 

Green’s being used in place of red because it’s representing a specific experience of romantic feelings. Green instead of red because Will couldn’t find a red crayon. He couldn’t find an acceptable label for his feelings. Because they aren’t platonic but they aren’t allowed to be romantic. 

This bottle is very important. It’s a coke bottle, which has been a motif since season one. (it’s also in the comic book- and I know they aren’t canon. That’s not really my point here. It’s the fact that coke was significant enough to be noticed as having significance. Like the jaws poster in Will’s room. It’s more than just brand placement.) And it’s green. Moving away from already established symbolism, it’s simply a bottle. It could be a metaphor for El bottling up her feelings, in relation to every part of her life. 

One and the massacre at the lab. Brenner who tried to control her again and died in front of her. Mike who’s supposed to be here boyfriend and who she’s supposed to have a perfect relationship with. Hopper dying. Moving to California. Not being able to save Max. Not even being able to find her. 

She’s been bottling up a lot of stuff. And now that bottles empty. 

And when she tries to find Max again, the bottle points to the trash bag. This might mean that Max is gone. Henry killed her, threw her life away. But it could also be reflecting on El’s feelings around being a superhero. El’s note she writes to Mike says that she’s going to become a superhero again. And Mike throw its in the trash. El failed to save Max. 

Another thing about the placement of those windows is that the part of them we see are just the curtains. For El, the curtains are drawn. At least in this instance. Maybe this is saying she can’t see Max- or that she can’t see the full picture. That Max isn’t gone, she just hasn’t looked hard enough or in the right places. Either way, El’s missing something.

As teh door opens, the shadows in the room deepen. The light on El diminishes. 

And Hopper appears. 

He’s surrounded by blue light, Vecna light, and is in shadow. And what’s behind him, doesn’t look like the cabin. It might be another Will situation, where that room completely changed, or it might just be the sinister effect of the blue light and harsh white light. That window does kind of look like one of the windows from the snow ball though.

Like it’s not 100%, but it’s weird that it even is sort of similar. Considering this is Hopper’s cabin. And Hopper’s here. And this scene shouldn’t be cause for concern. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 25.1 25.2 25.3 26 27 28 29 29.1 30 30.1 31 31.1 32 32.1 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 (...)

#the lights

[nvrendngstry]

.

I might be going on a bit of a hiatus from tumblr and be limited on discord. To put it bluntly, I don’t know what is going on with me, health wise, right now.

I’ve mentioned in the past that there’s something wrong with my head, and I haven’t had the chance to see a doctor about it (doctors in my town tend to focus on less important issues). I won’t be able to see my doctor until next month, and even then I won’t get answers for awhile.

All week I’ve been having weird pains in my head as well as feeling as if a balloon is inflating between my brain and skull. It also feels like a band is around my head, and I also get the sudden (really sharp) sensation of being stabbed in the top of the head. It lasts for a few minutes and goes away. I don’t have an issue with headaches of any kind in relation to this. Those are something I’m used to, and this isn’t it. I’ve also been losing my balance, stumbling, almost falling backward. Sometimes I feel like I’m about to lose consciousness. I can’t move my head certain ways or my head hurts or everything starts spinning/my eyes feel like they’re stretching out (which is a weird way to word it, but I don’t know how else to say it).

On top of these issues, my memory has been suffering even more than normal. Before I just thought it was due to a medication I had been on for awhile (memory loss was a side effect), but now I’m worried there’s something else causing it. I forget things a literal second later, and I’m way too young to be having these issues. I look at something and can’t remember what it is even though I know I know what it is. To be honest, this makes it hard to remember things going on in threads (which would explain any repeats or my muse seeming very forgetful).

As much as I don’t want to go on any kind of hiatus, I think I need to. It’ll probably be a semi-hiatus since I like to come on and send asks. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to try and be active when I’m not feeling well like this. Once I’ve seen more doctors and had tests done and can get the help I need, then I’ll be back as usual. This also depends on what that outcome is. I don’t want to think negatively about this, but I do have to think of it as a possibility.

Feeling like this isn’t an all the time thing, in fact I go through periods of feeling completely normal and then get knocked down for weeks. The memory loss and not recalling what things are, however, is an all the time thing. I’ve been struggling with it for so long now that I can’t even begin to imagine of what it was like before.

I’ll be available on discord to do more simple interactions (it’s the same as my name on here). I really hate to make all this known, but I’m not going to give bad replies or just disappear without an explanation of some kind. I feel like I should at least be honest with those I write with/are friends with.

#╭┈──── ooc ◌ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ

[wonderlandleighleigh]

For fashionable people verse - the moment midge finds out she’s going to be playing Carnegie hall?

April 1975

"I got a phone call."

Midge sits down in Susie's office and smiles. "You get lots of phone calls."

That's true. Susie's grown the business, and she does, indeed, get many phone calls.

"Yes, but i got a very specific fucking phone call," Susie tells her. "A very important phone call. A phone call you, particularly, have been dying for for many, many years."

Midge frowns, looking curious now. "Okay..."

"It was the Carnegie people, Midge."

He freezes.

"They want you. For July."

Midge still doesn't move.

"Midge did you fucking hear me?! They want you to play Carnegie Hall. Carnegie Hall!"

"The last time I was on the stage at Carnegie Hall, the man who would become my husband handed me my ass," Midge mutters.

Susie looks confused. "What?"

"Pen," Midge says, scrambling into her handbag. "I need a pen and paper, I know exactly how to start the set."

Susie grins widely, grabbing a pen and paper and handing it over.

*****

She walks into their home in a daze, with five pages of notes stuffed into her handbag,

They'd moved six years ago, into a large, beautiful brownstone in the Village. Accents of the wallpaper she loves so much mix with the wooden detailing Lenny adores, and lots of room for the kids, though only Esther lives at home now.

It's great for hosting parties, though, which Midge still loves to do, though she's slowed down a bit. More and more she's using her cane again.

She wanders into the kitchen, smiling and leaning against the refrigerator.

"Midge? That you?"

Lenny wanders in then, obviously in full writer mode. He's been working on a play (something she did a decade ago and won a Tony for), and he's definitely distracted.

"Hi," she says softly.

He stops, shaking himself loose from his focus. "Hey. You look..."

Midge smiles slowly.

Lenny tilts his head. "What?"

She takes a breath. "The Carnegie people called."

He stops, lifting an eyebrow. "Did they?"

"They did," Midge nods. "They'd like me to do my little act on their stage in July."

They stand in silence for a moment, before Lenny claps and laughs.

"Yes. Yes!" he cries, swooping in to scoop her into his arms. "I knew eventually they'd wise up!" He kisses her firmly and spins her around.

Midge laughs, clinging to him. "I wrote five pages of jokes just in Susie's office."

"Of course you did, that big beautiful brain working overtime," he beams proudly. "You're gonna be amazing. I'm taking you to dinner tonight, we're gonna order the biggest, most expensive bottle of champagne they got."

Midge smiles so much it almost hurts, burying her face against his shoulder.

*****

"They wanna know what color you want them to paint your hotel room," Susie tells her.

"They still do that?" Midge asks fondly.

"Apparently."

She smiles and takes a breath. "Tell them blue."

#fic #au #Fashionable People (Very Blue Rooms) #Midge Maisel #Susie Myerson #Midge/Lenny #Midge x Lenny

[pitviperofdoom]

HELLO YOU HAVE PROBABLY DONE THESE but if you're still doing the wip game then: reverse isekai AU and witch jon!!

OH MY GOD it took me so long to get to this. I already talked about reverse isekai here so, witch jon!

Witch Jon AU, Fairy Tale AU, Spiderwitch Jon AU, and variations of the above are all names I use for my series in which Jon is a fairy tale witch and fairy tale things happen to him and the various characters around him. It's called Spin, Spider, Spin and you can find the four current stories here.

This AU like many of my AUs is endgame JonGerryMartin, and the three of them are the main focus of the stories that are already up, with the first three depicting their respective backstories before the three of them all finally come together in the fourth. I definitely have future plans for the three of them, but I think the next couple of stories are going to shift away from them a bit. The one I recently started working on is two stories in one, starring Tim and Sasha!

One of my favorite things to do with this AU is play around with fairy tale tropes and archetypes; previous stories have featured curses, witches, dutiful children, brave huntsmen, and couples seeking childbearing help from the local wise magic-user. Fun fact, Gerry's story was one long homage to Vasilisa the Beautiful. Future stories currently fermenting in my brain include a somewhat loose, Daisy-centric take on Beauty and the Beast, and a Georgie/Melanie tale inspired by the Twelve Dancing Princesses, with maybe a bit of Orpheus thrown in if I can wiggle it in there.

The (hopefully) next story about Tim and Sasha takes from several stories, with Tim's part subverting the "youngest child always wins" trope, and Sasha's part taking more than a few pages from Bluebeard. Fair warning, it's probably going to be the grimmest one so far, but not without hope at the end.

Here's the first part!

---

It begins, as these things often do, with a set of brothers.

There are two of them, one elder and one younger, and of course that can only mean one thing. Younger siblings are good for only one thing in stories, and that is greatness.

Danny Stoker is every bit a younger son—kindhearted and curious, intrepid and bold in all the ways his older brother is not. He ventures into danger with courage and cleverness, and escapes by the skin of his teeth with a rich reward in hand. As a child he gets lost in the woods for three days and returns with scorched hands and a bag of silver pilfered from a witch’s hut. As a youth he vanishes down a well for three weeks and returns with diamonds dropping from his lips. As a young man he leaves home for three years and returns a war hero with the favor of a princess.

All the while, Tim Stoker grows up in an increasingly prosperous home. He is everything that Danny is not: content with his lot, unbothered by wanderlust, clever enough but in no hurry to prove it to the world. He stays safe at home with his studies and pastimes, and always welcomes his brother with a smile and an embrace. He listens attentively when Danny tells his stories, teasing him over every new embellishment. Some people might mistake his jokes for barbs, or search behind his smiles for flashes of envy.

Some people just don’t know Tim Stoker very well.

“I wish you’d stop,” he sighs, exaggerated to make his younger brother laugh. “One of these days you’ll come home with a crown and a kingdom. It was fun to watch you spit up gemstones when we were kids, but I don’t think I could stomach being royalty.”

Danny laughs, as he’d hoped, and leans in for a conspiratorial whisper. “To tell you the truth, neither could I,” he says. “It sounds horribly boring. You know, when they introduced me to the princess I was half terrified they’d make me marry her.”

“And how did she feel about it?”

“I saw her face when she came out to greet me,” Danny tells him with a grin. “It was like looking in a mirror.”

It’s Tim’s turn to laugh. “She sounds sensible! You’ll have to introduce me to her.”

His words are only half serious, but not three days later his younger brother is pushing him into the presence of the most strikingly beautiful woman he has ever met. She has soft brown eyes and dark curls that she can barely keep tamed, and when her attendants are out of sight she lets herself properly laugh. Her name is Alexandra, but when Tim calls her that, she gives him the most pained look that he’s ever seen and begs him to call her Sasha.

There is one area in which Tim excels where his brother falls short; he is much, much better at falling in love.

#witch jon au #tma fic #ask box meme #timsasha

[janetbrown711]

"She can't hurt us anymore," Yakko?

Yakko held Dot’s hand as they walked away from where the star had been, his mind still spinning trying to process what had happened in the last ten minutes.

Running, the gunshot, Dot dying, his parents, Dot died, Mom ran away with Dad’s sword, came back empty-handed, and then Wakko made a wish, and Dot was... alive again. Not even in pain. It was... like it didn’t happen.

Except it did. His gloves and pants still had her blood on them, as did her clothes. As did Dad’s. As did the snow.

Dot died.

But through the power of the Wishing Star, she was alive.

He squeezed her hand.

His parents were alive too, even after all this time... they were... alive. He had so many questions for them, but despite how hard he tried, he was simply speechless.

He could hardly get himself to look at them. They looked like how he remembered, though a bit weaker and a bit skinnier, and a bit more sadness behind their eyes, though they were plenty happy in the moment.

Still. It was like looking at a ghost and he just... he just couldn’t do it. Instead, he held Dot’s hand. He would’ve held Wakko’s too, but Wakko was being carried by their mother at his assistance. Meanwhile, Dot’s other hand was being held by their father, who Yakko was pretty sure was trying to talk to him, but again, he couldn’t speak. William didn’t mind though, as Dot was plenty happy to chat away, despite having literally died minutes before.

Dot died on his watch.

He was supposed to protect his siblings while his parents were gone. It was his job as older brother to keep them safe and he couldn’t even do that-

Wakko was neglected, and Yakko did nothing to prevent him from being locked in the tower again. Dot was yelled at, verbally abused, and died and Yakko just let it happen...

He squeezed her hand again.

Dot was alive.

“Daddy, how are we getting home?” Dot asked. William looked at Lena.

“Well... I suppose we’re taking your grandmother’s carriage,” He shrugged. Yakko blinked.

“W-what about Grandmummy?” Wakko asked nervously. Lena stroked his back in a comforting motion.

“She can’t hurt you anymore, darling. She’s long gone now,” Lena kissed his cheek.

Gone? Gone how?

Is that what-...

Oh.

So that’s where she went...

Yakko thought he noticed blood, but he assumed it was... well... Dot’s.

Good.

Yakko was glad she was dead, though she deserved far, far worse.

He glanced at his mother.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what she was feeling.

He looked away.

“Okay,” Wakko nodded his head, resting it back on her shoulder. Slowly they made their way toward the vehicle where a royal guard and coachman were waiting.

“Y-your... majesties..? Y-you’re alive?!” The coachman was losing his mind.

“Hello Henry,” William nodded at the guard.

“Oh my god- William? What on earth- Is the princess okay?” He asked. Dot squeezed Yakko’s hand.

“Thanks to the Wishing Star, yes... though I have reason to believe you had something to do with it,” William glared.

“I wasn’t aiming for any of them, I swear. I was just... biding my time... The queen practically ripped the gun from my hands and it fired- and... I’m sorry, your highness. I know what I’ve done and am willing to accept punishment,” He kneeled on the ground in front of Lena.

“There’ll be none of that... not now anyway,” Lena sighed. “But you will make up for what you’ve done. However... seeing as Dot was able to be brought back, we’ll be merciful. All we ask is that you say my mother, Queen Angelina the First, died in the avalanche, understood?” She looked at the two of them.

“Wait- what happened to the queen?” The coachman asked.

“Nothing she didn’t have coming,” Lena stated firmly. “But it was the avalanche, understood?”

“Of course, your highness,” The guard nodded, and the coachman wisely agreed to it as well.

“Good,” She nodded at them, going to the door, which the coachman quickly opened, allowing the family of five in. For once, their grandmother’s frivolity paid off, as there was more than enough room for all of them.

Once in, his parents sat together on one side, with Wakko still in his mother’s arms, and Dot and Yakko sat on the other, with Dot snuggling up on his lap.

Dot was alive.

“Where to, your highness?” The coachman asked.

“Acme Falls. We have some business to take care of,” Lena and William exchanged a glance.

“What kind of business?” Wakko asked as the coachman closed the door.

William chuckled tiredly. “We accidentally destroyed a dear friend's elixir cart,” He stretched the back of his neck.

Friends?

They didn’t have any friends... not that Yakko knew of anyway. Or remembered. Where even was Acme Falls? Is that where they’ve been this whole time?

A headache flared in his brain as more and more questions began to swarm. Yakko grumbled a little and tried to shut it off. This, however, only got his parent’s attention.

“Are you okay, Yakko?” Lena asked softly. Yakko forced a nod, preferring to look out the window instead as the carriage began to move. He could feel the glances his parents were exchanging.

“How’d you do that?” Wakko asked.

“Avalanche destroyed it. We’ll pay them back though... we’ve burdened them enough already,” Lena sighed.

“Lena...” Willam placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

“Don’t pretend it isn’t true,” She said. William didn’t fight further.

“We’ll be stopping by to get Dot a check-up, make sure everything is okay, thank them for everything and then we’ll be on our way,” Lena told Wakko, stroking his head as he slowly closed his eyes.

There was a long moment of silence after that, mostly due to exhaustion. Once the carriage really got moving, Wakko and Dot fell asleep practically instantly. Yakko couldn’t say he blamed them, in all honesty, he was exhausted too, but his headache and questions kept him up. Plus, his parent’s worried glances were driving him insane too, and he did his best to avoid them. Instead, he tried to focus on other things.

Like how weird it was that they were riding in their now-dead grandmother’s carriage. It still smelled like her perfume. Something about sitting where she sat didn’t feel right. If Yakko would have his way, he would burn it when they got home. Hell- he’d burn all traces of their grandmother. She deserved far worse than what she got... though it was probably cathartic on some level for Lena.

He glanced at his mom.

She was holding William’s hand tightly. He could tell she was almost trembling.

Yeah... that must’ve been quite the thing to go through...

“Yakko..? Are you okay?” William asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yakko blatantly lied, shoving down the hurricane of emotions buried in his chest.

“Try that again,” Lena looked at him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Yakko crossed his arms. He was beginning to feel nauseous from the swirl.

“...Not here, anyway,” He added, stroking Dot’s ears softly. Lena sighed, understanding.

“You must have a million questions, of which I don’t blame you for in the slightest. So much has happened...” Lena looked out the window and squeezed her husband’s hand again.

“Yeah...” was all Yakko could muster.

The carriage ride the rest of the way was silent, as they all made their best attempts to sleep, but they simply weren’t as lucky as Dot or Wakko. Nobody made any attempts to conversate though, as they all seemed okay with the silence, which Yakko was grateful for. The last thing he wanted was to start shouting and getting upset and waking his sibs.

Eventually, they reached the little town of Acme Falls, and when they rolled into the town square there was a notable tension in the townsfolk, and Yakko was reminded yet again, they were in his grandmother’s carriage. He had no idea what the townspeople thought of her, but if it was even a sliver of the hatred Yakko felt for her, he could understand.

The coachman opened the door, waking up Dot and Wakko instantly with the winter air, and slowly the family all got out, the townspeople relaxing when they didn’t see the dead queen, some even congratulating their parents (mostly William though, for some reason).

The family then walked their way to a building with the sign “Dr. Scratchnsniff and Nurse Nerz’s”. Right, the doctors. Their father knocked on the door.

“Willaim! You’re back, thank goodness,” A blonde shapely woman opened the door and gave their father a tight hug.

“Yes, yes, all in one piece,” William laughed and returned the hug. The woman stepped back and examined all of them.

“You say that... but who’s blood is that?” She pointed at him.

“There was... an incident at the star. We’re just here to apologize about the cart, and to give Dot a quick check-up just to make sure she’s okay,” Lena said.

“The cart? What happened to the cart?” A man’s voice with a distinct German accent spoke from beyond the door.  

“Avalanche,” Lena sighed, as the nurse allowed the family in.

“Oh... right, yes. We heard about that,” The doctor scratched his bald head from behind his desk.

“How on earth did you get here without the cart?” The nurse asked.

“We took my mother’s carriage,” Lena said.

“Oh dear- she’s not... is she?” The woman and doctor exchanged a glance.

“She is, and I don’t regret a thing,” Lena stated sharply, ending that conversation.

“So... a check-up, ya?” said the doctor, standing up. Quickly, he examined Dot up and down. “Nothing seems off or broken from a glance... what happened, exactly?”

“W-well we dug our way out of the snow from the avalanche and then we were running towards the star and then there was a gunshot and she got shot in the back and then...” Yakko couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Ah... I see... so the Wishing Star..?” he asked William and Lena. They nodded.

“I’ll give her a quick exam. However, the rooms are fairly small, so only one parent please,” He said, picking up a clipboard from his desk.

“I’ll go,” William said. “C’mon Dot,” he smiled softly at her. Dot glanced at Yakko once before going to her dad, and they went down the hall and disappeared with the doctor.

So... great.

“You can just wait here if you’d like, it surely won’t take long,” The nurse smiled softly at Yakko.

“My name is Helloise, by the way,” She said.

“Oh right! I’m so sorry- these are my sons, Yakko and Wakko,” Lena gestured to both, though Wakko was still in her arms.

“Pleasure to meet you,” She nodded at both of them. Wakko smiled back. Yakko said nothing.

They sat there a moment in silence, with Helloise going back to her desk and doing some work, and leaving the boys and their mother alone to talk.

“So... Wakko, what’s the first thing you want to do when we get home?” Lena asked.

“I wanna have a big fancy picnic in the garden,” Wakko grinned up at his mom.

“That sounds lovely dear,” Lena smiled and nuzzled his nose. “What about you, Yakko?”

“I uh... I don’t know,” he shrugged. Sure, he had come up with an idea of just sitting and being in a room with his parents this morning, but now the idea felt ridiculous, but at the same time, he couldn’t really think of a replacement activity that could make up for the time lost. The headache flared again, and Yakko slumped a little in his seat.

Good god, he wanted to go home.

Another moment of silence passed. Yakko wished he knew what to say, he usually never shut up, but now...

Today was a lot, to say the least. 

He was probably just tired and needed to go home. 

Eventually, William and Dot returned with a thumbs up, though the doctor stopped Lena momentarily and whispered something to her. She nodded her head once, thanked him, promised they’d reimburse all the supplies they’ve used over the year tenfold, and they were off again.

On the way home, the sun began to set, and this time Yakko found it much easier to close his eyes, figuring he probably wore himself out. The soothing rhythm of the carriage moving along the path lulled his mind to a stop for once, and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 

He was woken by his mother when the carriage came to a stop. Slowly all of them got out and went in. 

Maids and guards alike gasped and gawked at the sight of William and Lena, reminding Yakko yet again that they were gone a year, not dead. People asked for information on the queen, and Lena told them what had happened. 

So Yakko had been right, Angelina had hired assassins to kill his parents... they were just unsuccessful. 

Huh.

After a while, Lena ordered them to let them rest for the night and that they could finish early today and the maids and servants and guards dissipated as quickly as they had gathered. 

“Well... now that they’re gone... I believe it’s bedtime now, isn’t it?” William looked at Wakko and Dot. 

“Aww, do we have to?” Wakko pouted. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Alone? Don’t you share a room with..?” Lena looked at Yakko, who shook his head. 

“Well... here, I have an idea. How about we all sleep together in our room tonight, hm? The bed is plenty big enough and it’ll be just like old times,” Lena smiled. 

“Really?!” Dot and Wakko beamed. Lena laughed. 

“Of course,” She said. “Just go get your pajamas on and wait for a few, I’ll come to get you when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, mommy!” Dot said, giving her mother a powerful hug, which Lena returned. Wakko did the same before they both ran off to their rooms. Yakko started to go, but Lena stopped him. 

“Yakko, what’s wrong?” Lena asked.

“I dunno,” Yakko kicked the rug beneath his feet. “I just- I guess I have a lot of questions.”

“As do we,” William sighed. “Here- let’s talk in the study. It’ll feel more private,” he said. Nobody argued with that so they went into the familiar family study, and they sat down in the comfortable chairs. 

“So... what’s on your mind?” Lena asked. Yakko bit his lip. 

More like what wasn’t on his mind. 

“Just... how, and why and why and how,” Yakko rubbed his arms. “I-i mean... a year with her. I-i just... I knew you’d never leave on purpose, and I knew about the assassins, but... yeah...” 

“Hey,” Lena softly placed her hand under his chin and made him look at her. “Don’t feel bad for feeling this way- you have a right to be upset and confused. It’s... a lot, I know,” She sighed. Yakko nodded. 

“Well... what happened was that mother hired attackers to kill us, though for some odd reason she didn’t want it to be in the castle,” William explained. 

“Probably didn’t want to stain the tapestries,” Lena snorted.  “But yes... we were taken away, though not without severe injuries... a few of which you saw...” She looked at Yakko, and his eyes went to the scar on her shoulder. 

“Right,” he said. 

Lena took a deep breath. “It had been snowing so ice covered the roads. The only way we were freed was because the carriage slid and crashed against a tree and we ran for it. Eventually, we reached the town of Acme Falls, the town your father grew up in,” she looked at William. 

“I was friends with the nurse throughout my childhood, so when we came half-dead, she was quick to help, though it took roughly a year to recover from everything,” William said. 

“Well, for me anyway,” Lena muttered to herself. “Still... we missed you three every day and wished we could come home with all of our might. I can’t count the number of times I wept thinking about what that awful woman was doing to the three of you...” Lena looked off, her eyes becoming foggy at the memory. William held her hand and gave it a squeeze, stroking it with his thumb. She didn’t phase. 

“S-so you really were alive? Huh...” Yakko tried to process it all. “A-and it’s not like you could’ve come back because grandma would’ve just said you were imposters and that’s treason, right? It just would’ve gotten you killed again.”

“That’s exactly right, Yakko,” William nodded. Yakko flopped back in his seat, still thinking about it. 

“Yakko, I’m so sorry... I never meant to leave you with her- any of you. I should’ve killed her years ago...” Lena said that last part mostly to herself, but they still heard. 

“Mom, it’s okay... really...” Yakko reassured. 

“No, it’s not. None of this should have happened. You three deserve so much better... You deserve to be safe and happy and loved...” Lena rubbed her arms. 

“Lena, my love...” William said, but she still didn’t look at him. 

“Grandma can’t hurt us anymore, it’s okay Mom,” Yakko said. “We’re gonna be okay now because we’re together, remember? We’re all here.”

Lena blinked. 

“You’re right- of course, you’re right,” Lena laughed a little, more sad than happy. “We’re together again. You’re here, I’m here, we’re here,” her grip on her arms tightened. 

She was shaking. 

Yakko didn’t even hesitate to get up and wrap her in a tight hug. 

“It’s okay mom. You dealt with her, she can’t hurt us anymore. You’re back... you’re alive,” Yakko said, tears coming to his eyes.

His parents were alive. 

His grandmother was dead. 

They were safe. 

“Yakko, I love you so much,” Lena hugged him tightly, crying tears of her own. 

“I love you too, mom,” He sniffled. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too,” She kissed his forehead, and a wave of comfort and nostalgia washed over him. 

He missed her so much...

“Would you like to join your siblings in our little sleepover tonight?” Lena asked him. Yakko nodded, still hugging her. 

“Good, now go get into your pajamas, and meet us in a few,” Lena kissed his head again, and let him go. Yakko got up and gave his dad a big hug too. 

“I missed you too Dad,” He smiled a little. 

“I missed you too, Yakko,” William hugged back. 

Yakko then ran off to go change, feeling relieved and happy. 

His parents were alive and his grandmother was dead. 

This was the cause for a giant celebration. 

He ran to his room and was about to change when he looked down at his gloves and saw the blood once more. 

The feeling of joy was sucked out as he remembered Dot’s weak pleas to go home...  how much she shook and cried... how cold she felt when she... when she...

They were home. 

They were together. 

A big happy family. 

Dot was alive too. 

Yakko took off the gloves and put them deep into his laundry. He never wanted to see that much of his sister’s blood ever again. Especially not on his watch...

They were home. 

They were together. 

They were safe. 

Yakko repeated that in his mind until he felt calm again, changing into his pajamas, burying his bloodstained pants also in his laundry. 

A big happy family. 

God, Yakko hoped so. 

Quickly, he finished getting ready and ran to join his sibs in their parent’s room, which to his surprised looked like it hadn’t been touched in a year, outside of fixing any damage the attack could’ve done. Still- it was just as he remembered, which felt nice. 

“Haha, you’re slow,” Dot stuck her tongue out at Yakko. 

“Am I now?” Yakko raised an eyebrow as he climbed onto the bed. 

“Oh settle down you three, it’s late enough already” Lena rolled her eyes and chuckled tiredly. 

“Lullaby! Lullaby!” Wakko and Dot chanted in unison, which only made Lena laugh more. 

“Alright, alright. I know it’s been a while... I’ll have to choose one that makes it worth it...” She thought to herself, tapping her finger on her chin. Yakko made his way in between his two sibs, who were sitting completely upright in anticipation. 

“You know the rules you two, you have to lay down, or else it doesn’t work,” Lena pointed out. Quickly and giggly, the two younger siblings laid down, kicking and practically bouncing with energy. 

“Let's go in the garden, you’ll find something waiting. Right there where you left it, laying upside down,” She started, and Yakko felt an ocean of relaxation and comfort enter him. He missed her singing more than he could’ve ever said, and hearing it again- well... it was indescribable. 

“When you finally find it, you’ll see how it’s faded. The underside is lighter when you turn it around,” Yakko didn’t remember her ever singing this one, but he didn’t care. 

“Everything stays, right where you left it. Everything stays... but it still changes. Ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways, when everything stays,” She continued, her voice visibly relaxing and tiring out Yakko and his sibs. She really was the best. 

“Go down to the ocean... the crystal tide is rising. Water’s gotten higher, as the shore washes out,” She continued, the kids slowly closing their eyes. 

“Keep your eyes wide open, Even when the sun is blazing. The moon controls the tide, it could cause you to drown.”

“Everything stays, right where you’ve left it. Everything stays, but it still changes. Ever so slightly, Daily and nightly, In little ways... when everything stays...” she finished, kissing each of them on their foreheads. 

“Goodnight my loves,” She whispered. 

“G’night mommy,” Dot smiled sleepily, as she cuddled against William, who himself was also practically asleep. Lena chuckled tiredly as she laid back down, humming another verse to herself, and Yakko felt his eyelids go heavy and he slowly drifted to sleep. 

.o0o.

“Y-yakko, you’ll go home too, right?” she sniffled, but regretted that. 

The pain was sharp. Her whole body was on fire and being consumed by it. She could feel herself growing weaker as the pain only got stronger.

“O-of course. All of us- we’ll all be there, okay? We’re gonna get our wish and we’re gonna go home, okay?” 

Some of his tears fell onto her face. 

“O-okay... We-we’re gonna go home, a-and be together- a big happy family,” she smiled at the thought of it. 

“Y-yeah Dot. A big happy f-family,” he stroked her face with his thumb. 

Another wave, this one hurt more. She all but collapsed back into the snow. Oh god- please make it stop- please make it stop-

“Yakko, I don’t wanna die- I’m not ready to die.” 

She wanted to reach out- to cling to him- her arms couldn’t move.

“Dot- no. Y-you can’t die-” 

He looked so sad...

“Yakko I wanna go home,” 

She squeezed his hand with all she had. She wanted to hug him, to have this agony taken away. Good god, it hurt. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Dot. Y-you aren’t gonna die.”

Her father lied. She was dying- she knew it- good god, it was consuming her-

She was so tired...

No... No, she couldn’t- She had to stay- they were getting so sad-

Say something!!! They need you, Dot-

“I-i l-love y-you...”

No- that’s not enough- 

No-

“No!!!” Dot shot up in her parent’s bed, tears streaming down her face, and her breathing heavy. She put a hand on her chest and flinched. 

She could still feel how it felt when she was dying. 

“Dot..? Sweetie, what’s the matter?” William rubbed his eyes and to Dot’s horror, she realized she woke everyone up. 

“I-i’m so sorry-” She apologized, wiping her face. “I-i didn’t mean- please don’t get mad,” she pleaded. 

Wiliam and Lena exchanged a look. 

“Dot? What’s the matter?” Wakko frowned and sat up, placing a hand on her shoulder, which she shook off, which she immediately felt guilty over. 

Good god, what was happening?

“I-it hurts,” She cried. 

“What hurts? Dot, are you alright?” William sat upright and got in front of her. 

“I-i can still feel it i-in here,” she pointed to her chest, right where the pain was. 

“Oh no... Dot, honey, I’m so sorry,” William gasped, quickly wrapping her in a tight hug. Dot wanted to push away at first, but it turns out the hug did help to make her feel better.

“Mummy? What’s wrong with Dot?” Dot heard Wakko ask. Lena squeezed Wakko’s shoulder. 

“It has many names... but let’s just say a nightmare for now...” Lena sighed. 

“Oh...” Wakko said, turning back to his little sister. 

“It’s okay, Dot. We’re all here, you’re safe. It’s okay,” Wakko patted her head lightly, as it was all he could think to do while she was wrapped in her dad’s arms. Dot sniffled. 

“I-i’m sorry for waking you- you should go back to sleep,” She said. Wakko frowned. 

“I-is it about the..?” Wakko didn’t need to finish his sentence. Dot nodded. Wakko’s head lowered. 

“Oh...” He looked away. Yakko put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I-I’m sorry Dot. I-it was meant for me- I-i should’ve-”

“No, Wakko. This is not your fault,” Yakko stopped him. 

“B-but she was-”

“’But she was’ nothing. This is nobody except your grandmother’s fault, and she’s already paying the price,” Lena said. 

“Y-yeah Wakko, it’s n-not your fault,” Dot sniffled, feeling better as the pain was going away slightly, though it was still there. 

“O-okay...” Wakko sniffled and wiped his face. “A-are you okay, Dot?” 

“I-i’m okay...” she stretched the truth. She knew she wasn’t dying but it still frightened her.

William and Lena shared a look with each other, holding a silent conversation. Eventually, Lena nodded and got up, giving Dot a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“It’ll be okay Dot... we’ll find someone really good to help you so this doesn’t happen, okay?” She smiled softly. Dot nodded, not really knowing what she meant, before Lena went to her desk and started writing a letter. 

“It’s okay pumpkin. After all, we’re right here, just like you wanted,” William kissed the top of her head. 

“Y-yeah Dot, just like you wanted,” Yakko said happily.

That did bring a smile to her face. 

They were together, at home, safe and sound. 

The pain faded, and Dot broke the embrace with her dad to open her arms to her brothers, who then turned and hugged her. William and eventually Lena joined this hug too, and Dot smiled. 

They were home, they were together. 

Their grandma was dead. She couldn’t hurt them anymore- nobody could. Not anymore. 

They were together now, 

That’s all that mattered. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 The End

#angelina 1 lives au #my fics #yakko wakko and dot #angelina warner #william warner #queen angelina ii #sir william the good #long post #angst #feels #hurt/comfort #tw blood #tw death #tw ptsd #trauma #im sobbing- #lets get them some therapy lol #alsjchnwjxkwjrjr #animaniacs

[blueeyedrat]

Steam Next Fest! New name, same idea: a large library of demos for new and upcoming games to try out. In between finishing up some games and assorted projects, and starting up some games I've been meaning to get around to, I was able to find time for some demos that caught my eye.

More comments under the cut:

Sable - This was the first and last demo I tried this time around, and it's a game I've been intrigued by for quite a while. I wasn't actually able to finish the demo either time I played; I fell out of bounds and had to restart the first time, and it crashed later on during the second. It doesn't run well on my old laptop, I suppose... which is a shame, because technical issues aside, I was really enjoying it! I don't play open-world stuff all that often, but this one definitely scratched an itch. It reminded me a lot of Zelda with a similar "run everywhere and climb everything" vibe. Gliding through the air and crossing the vast dunes on a hoverbike felt pretty satisfying, too. The designs are distinctive and visually striking, the music is nice, and the demo provides just enough hints about both the setting and Sable herself to leave me wanting more.

Terra Nil - A "reverse city builder" about restoring life to a barren wasteland. I wish I had more to say about this one, but it's another one for the "I wish my laptop could run this game better" column: the demo kept crashing before I could really get into it. I liked what little I was able to play, though. The gameplay was pretty intuitive, and the aesthetic was quite lovely. Will definitely be keeping an eye on this game, one way or another.

Patrick's Parabox - A sokoban puzzler with a recursive twist: rooms nested in other rooms, and in some cases, rooms nested within themselves. The extra dimension adds a fun spin on the base sokoban gameplay, and the demo showcased some fun ways it could be used for puzzles. I recommend looking into it if you're interested in games of this sort.

Harmony's Odyssey - A puzzle game about unscrambling colorful dioramas. The art style's cute and appealing, and the puzzles were fine, but it didn't seem to have a lot of depth beyond its basic mechanic. The interface was a bit awkward, too; the camera was either too far zoomed in to see all of the pieces, or too far zoomed out to see any of them. It was charming enough, but I'm not sure I'll be delving into it further.

Little Witch in the Woods - From one cute-witch-themed game to another, and another game I've been curious about for a while. A chill life sim with a cozy setting, a colorful cast of characters, a variety of flora and fauna to discover, and a focus on magic and potion-making rather than ordinary farming. Very charming, but also very slow-paced. While it is satisfying to process resources and concoct potions, foraging for said resources is a slow grind, and it's all too easy for your efforts to go to waste because you accidentally tossed a potion bottle in the wrong direction. Still, it seems like quite a pleasant time if you have the patience for it. I'm undecided if it's the sort of game for me, but I'm willing to wait and see.

Faerie Afterlight - An exploration puzzle-platformer with a bright, beautiful visual style. Gameplay-wise, the movement feels nice and has potential to be pretty interesting: the demo starts off with your character having just unlocked the ability to jump and wall-jump, you obtain a dash later on, and more abilities will likely come further in the game. It has some unique mechanics (like controlling a secondary character who can interact with gates and possess enemies) and the combat is okay, but the demo stumbles once or twice when it demands you manage all of these aspects simultaneously. Seems like an alright game, even if it didn't stand out to me like other games on this list.

Unpacking - A meditative puzzle game about arranging everyday objects in rooms. This is another one I've been interested in, and now that I've tried it for myself... there's a lot to unpack, if you'll excuse my wording. There's a certain weight to nostalgia and sentimentality, even when it's tied up in mundane objects like books and toys. The comfortable and familiar, the things we keep with us, and the things we discard or leave behind, everyone values them differently. Even in a brief demo, Unpacking manages to encapsulate this idea in a way that few other games can. Each segment is a snapshot of a different moment in a person's life. Through the simple task of sorting through their belongings and finding a place for everything, you learn about this person, and a narrative emerges. What they take with them, what they leave behind, and what they pick up along the way. It's a fascinating little game, and one that could be emotionally compelling in ways I was not prepared for.

OGOPOGO - An arcade puzzle game about making palindrome block chains. ...Have you ever stumbled across a game that feels like it was made specifically for you? I had never heard of this one until a few days ago when I was perusing the Steam demo list. It's a simple concept, but it trips the pattern-finding part of my brain in very pleasing ways. I can see myself sinking a lot of idle time into this one when it comes out.

TOEM - Quite a pleasant game to round out the list. There's been a renaissance of photography games over the past year or so; I still have New Pokémon Snap and Beasts of Maravilla Island waiting in the wings, and I can think of half a dozen other titles either already out or near on the horizon. It's easy to see the appeal, since it's a sort of game that inherently rewards exploration and discovery while also being pretty chill and low-stress. TOEM looks to be a fine example, with a simple, charming black-and-white art style, and a friendly and inviting world to run around in and complete tasks with your camera. Take a picture, it'll last longer.

A few technical bumps on the road, but a nice selection of games regardless. See you next time.

#game demos #sable game #unpacking game #terra nil #toem #little witch in the woods #faerie afterlight #bryan writes about games

[allthingsfangirl101]

Two Truths-Zac Efron

Masterlist

Trigger Warning: mentions of rape, anxiety attack, PTSD

Zac knows everything about me. Well, almost everything. He doesn't know that I have frequent anxiety attacks. Whenever I start to have one, I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. I stay in there or the other room until it passes.

I was struggling to stop one right now as I waited for the two minutes to be up. The past couple of days I've been feeling kind of sick, but it wasn't until I was late did I realize that the last time Zac and I slept together, we were drunk. In our drunkenness, I couldn't remember if we used protection.

When the timer I set on my phone finally went off, my anxiety peaked again. My breathing sped up as I walked to the bathroom counter. As I reached for the test, my hands were shaking.

The second I looked at it and saw the results, the room started to spin. I somehow walked out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of my bed. I clutched the test in my hands, trying to wrap my head around it.

I was having Zac Efron's baby.

What if we aren't ready for this? What if this is too much? What if Zac doesn't want a baby? What if this ruins his career?

The more I thought about this, the worse my anxiety attack got.

What if he leaves me? I can't raise a baby on my own. I can't afford my own apartment. I'd have to start all over. While being pregnant. I can't do this.

The room started spinning, my hands continued to shake, and it was getting harder to breathe. I felt like I was about to pass out as the bedroom door opened. I quickly wrapped my hands around the positive pregnancy test, hiding it.

"Y/N?"

I looked up, my breath getting caught in my throat when I saw Zac standing in the doorway. His eyes widened when he saw the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Are you alright?" He quickly walked over, kneeling in front of me.

I looked down at my hands, still hiding the pregnancy test, and gasped when Zac placed his hands over mine. I bit my lip as I pulled my hands out from under his and slowly opened them. I heard him suck in a breath when he saw the positive sign on the test.

"Y/N," he gasped, his voice under his breath. "You're pregnant?"

My eyes watered as he got excited. "This is. . . This is amazing, babe," he laughed as he stood up and started pacing. "I can't believe this is really happening. I mean. . . We've been dating for almost four years. I've always thought about our future and getting married and kids and now. . . We're having a baby."

His excitement halted when he noticed I wasn't as excited as he was. "Y/N?" He said softly as he walked back over to me. "Babe, are you alright?"

I shook my head, the tears streaming down my cheeks. Zac sat next to me on the edge of the bed and gently cupped my cheek in his hand, turning my head so I was looking at him.

"Y/N, what's going on?"

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to form the words. If I told him what was really going on, he'd finally find out about the anxiety attacks I've been hiding from him.

"I can't do this," I said under my breath.

"What?" He said, chuckling softly. "Y/N, if you're worried about the baby, don't be. We already live together. We have that extra room my brother usually crashes in, but we can kick him out and turn it into the baby's room. Money-wise, together we have enough saved up. You don't have to keep working if you don't want to. My movie is almost done and when it is, I'll help you get the apartment and the nursery ready for the baby."

"But," I stuttered, "this could ruin your career. The press can be ruthless about unplanned pregnancies. Zac Efron Gets His Girlfriend Pregnant. It could ruin your reputation."

"I don't care about my reputation, Y/N," he cut me off. "I love you and I'm going to love our baby."

"But. . ." I stuttered again. I couldn't catch my breath as my vision blurred. My hands were shaking and it was getting harder to breathe.

"Y/N?" Zac's voice was shaky as he watched me gasp for air. "Babe, what's going on? What's happening?"

"I can't. . . This is. . ." I stood up, the pregnancy test slipping out of my hands. I started pacing as I mumbled my worries. I couldn't even understand what I was saying as the room spun. Suddenly, my legs collapsed.

"Y/N!" Zac gasped as he caught me.

With me in his arms, he gently knelt down, pulling me with him. I put my head in my hands as I tried to catch my breath. I felt Zac scoot closer to me and wrap his arms around me. He pulled my head into his chest as he rocked us.

"Y/N, baby, just breathe. Focus on my voice and breathe. It's going to be alright. I'm not going to leave you. I'm not going to abandon you or our baby. We're in this together. I promise. Just breathe."

"I can't do this," I sobbed.

"Yes, you can," he said instantly, tightening his arms around me.

"But your job. . ."

"Y/N," he said sternly as he unwrapped his arms from me, grabbed my shoulders, and made me look at him.

"I don't give a shit about my job or my reputation or my image. You are what's important to me. You and our baby. If I had to, I would quit my job and move to a small town to raise this baby with you."

I opened my mouth to interrupt but he shook his head. "I love you, Y/N."

A sob got stuck in my throat as I buried my head in the crook of his neck. We sat like that in the middle of our bedroom with Zac's arms wrapped around me. It took me a few minutes before I finally calmed down.

Once the sobs had stopped, Zac stood up with his arms still wrapped around me. He didn't let go of me as he led us back over to our bed. We sat down and he immediately started running his fingers through my hair.

"Y/N," he whispered, being the first to break the silence. "What just happened, babe? I mean. . . I had no idea what was happening or what I could do to help. You weren't looking at me, you couldn't breathe, and I just sat there. I felt completely helpless."

I slowly pulled out of his embrace, still unable to look at him. I bit my lip as he reached over and grabbed my hands.

"Baby," he whispered, "say something. Anything. I've never been more scared in my life. I had no idea what to do, Y/N. I just. . . I just sat there and held you. I didn't. . . Please explain to me what happened. I want to know what I can do to help you the next time this happens."

I took a shaky breath, trying to gather my courage to tell him the truth. I finally looked over to see the worry in his eyes. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

The way he was looking at me, with pure love, gave me the strength and courage to finally open up to him and tell him the truth. I took a shaky breath as I turned more towards him. I didn't look away from him as I grabbed his hands, intertwining our fingers.

"There's something I've been hiding from you," I said, my voice soft. "I didn't mean to keep it from you, I just. . . I always thought that if I opened up to you. . . It would scare you away."

"Hey," he cut me off. "Nothing could ever scare me away. Not from you. Not from our baby. Not from our life together. Absolutely nothing. I love you, Y/N. Just tell me."

"I have really bad anxiety," I blurted out.

Zac sighed as he sent me a small smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head, cutting him off.

"It's because of something that happened in high school." My voice got stuck in my throat as I remembered that night. "When I was sixteen, my friends dragged me to this party and. . . Something happened."

I looked down, a sob getting stuck in my throat. Memories flooded my brain as an anxiety attack started again. Zac gently lifted my chin with his finger, a smile still on his face. He caught a tear with his thumb, slightly rubbing my cheek.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice low as he let go of my face and grabbed my hand.

I opened and closed my mouth, struggling to admit what happened. I don't think I've actually said the word since that night.

"Y/N," he started to say. "If you don't want to, you don't have to say anything. I want to know so I can better help you. "

"I was raped," I cut him off.

I held my breath, waiting for him to react. The look in Zac's eyes slowly changed, his smile fell, and his grip on my hands tightened. Without a word, Zac pulled me into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to him.

He gently leaned back and used his finger to make me look up at him. He looked like he was about to say something but decided against it. Instead, he pulled me back into his chest and kissed my forehead.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He asked his voice barely above a whisper. I stayed in his arms as I told him about that night.

"This guy got drunk," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "And when I was coming out of the bathroom, he cornered me. He pushed me back in. . . I tried to get away. I tried to get past him but. . . He wouldn't let me leave."

I looked away from his eyes and took a shaky breath. I tried to calm my breathing as my hands started shaking.

"I kept trying to push him off," I started, my voice barely above a whisper. "But he was stronger than me. He was so rough. . . I had bruises all over my body for weeks. I couldn't fight back."

A sob got stuck in my throat as Zac tightened his arms around me, gently rubbing my back. Tears silently streamed down my cheeks as Zac held me close to his chest and whispered that I was safe.

"One of the guys from the football team walked in," I said once my sobs had calmed down enough for me to speak. "He was actually my neighbor. When he saw what the guy was doing to me, he pulled him off of me. I still remember cowering in the corner as my neighbor kicked the guy's ass."

"Good," Zac said through his teeth. "I would've done the same thing."

I pulled out of his hold and wiped the tears from my face. Zac kept an arm wrapped around my waist as I caught my breath. He waited patiently for me to finish the story.

"Someone called the police and my neighbor explained everything," I continued. "While he was talking to the cop, I suddenly couldn't breathe. The room was spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out. The EMT rushed to me and noticed I was having an anxiety attack. She wrapped a blanket around me and helped calm me down."

"What happened to the guy?" Zac asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He was arrested," I explained. "I'm not sure what happened. The guy who found me testified and they showed pictures of me before and after, but I didn't testify. My father refused to let me."

"What about you?" Zac asked, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "What happened to you?"

"I was taken to the hospital," I remembered. "They kept me overnight and I ended up having a panic attack. They didn't stop when I went home. I'd wake up sobbing from nightmares about the party. After that night, I didn't want to go to school so I finished high school online."

"How come you never told me?" Zac asked, not an ounce of anger in his voice. "We've been friends since the first High School Musical. We tell each other everything."

"I know," I said, my voice getting caught in my throat when I looked up at his soft eyes. "And I'm so sorry, baby. I just. . . My dad never believed in anxiety and my mom pretended like that night never happened. My family wasn't supportive and. . ."

"And you thought I wouldn't be?" He asked, his voice slightly cracking.

"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "No, baby. I didn't think that. I was just scared. I knew you'd be supportive, I was just nervous that I'd be wrong. I know that doesn't make sense but I just. . . I'm sorry, baby."

Zac sighed as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Listen, babe," he whispered. "I love you. If you have anxiety attacks, there are ways I can help you through them. I can even stop them and prevent them from getting worse."

"How?" I stuttered as he reached up and cupped my cheeks with his hands. He smiled before leaning in and pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was soft and gentle before he pulled away.

"By doing that," he whispered. I giggled as I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

"That might just work," I whispered as I broke the kiss.

We sat like that, in perfect silence as he held me. Suddenly, he pulled away and smiled down at me.

"What?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper from all the crying.

His smile got bigger the longer he stared at me. Without breaking our eye contact, he reached behind him and grabbed something.

"I almost forgot," he said with a playful smirk as he slowly pulled whatever he grabbed and placed it between us. A small smile finally formed on my face when I looked down and watched as he uncovered the pregnancy test.

"We're having a baby," he whispered.

I looked up from the pregnancy test, happy tears in my eyes. I leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Zac's lips. I felt him smile against my lips as he deepened the kiss. When we broke apart, I looked up at him with our faces inches apart.

"We're having a baby."

#zac efron #zac efron imagines #zac efron x reader

[plumoh]

[SK8] at all times, at all sides

Rating: T

Word count: 7409

Summary: Kaoru is shaped by the choices he makes and the people surrounding him. And through the years, Kojirou was there in one way or another.

Note: AO3 link. This was posted a while after Kaoru’s birthday, as a character study of sorts, birthday by birthday. I make the assumption that in the present day, Kaoru and Kojirou are 27-28 years old.There is a brief mention of alcohol at age 20, and Kaoru is a bit drunk at age 26.

15.

Kaoru gets two additional piercings on his left ear on his fifteenth birthday.

The first one, at what is considered a normal place for an earring in the middle of the earlobe, was done as an impulsive act of brashness to show off to his friends at school at the beginning of the year. He likes the attention. The family name attached to him makes people gasp when they see him with holes in his ear, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him some sort of satisfaction. It’s kind of ridiculous and entirely too stiff an attitude to be offended by some nails stuck into someone else’s skin, as if it changes who he fundamentally is. Besides, piercings are cool.

So Kaoru gets two additional piercings, a helix piercing and another one in the earlobe, and Kojirou whistles.

“You sure your parents won’t cut off your entire ear for that?” he asks, his gaze appraising Kaoru’s new look.

“I’ll live with only one ear, then,” Kaoru answers, shrugging. “What do you think? I look cool, right?”

Kaoru gestures to his ear, grinning and looking at Kojirou expectantly. He knows that he must be acting like a child who got permission to eat a second candy after dinner, but it’s his birthday and he feels he can be excited for what is, essentially, a new approach to his lifestyle. He paid for these piercings with his own pocket money (and money earned through foolish bets and challenges, and he’s thankful that most skaters are stupid).

Kojirou hums, his face pinched in intense concentration. Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“That’s a yes or no question, Kojirou.”

“Let me give you a complete review of your new fashion style, impatient bastard,” Kojirou says.

“I don’t need a complete review! They’re just piercings!”

Kojirou always takes forever when asked to give his opinion on any topic, be it about his younger brother’s latest baseball game or the best suited color for a piece of garment Kaoru’s mother has decided to wear for an important meeting. It’s utterly unnecessary and a waste of time—Kaoru isn’t asking Kojirou to write an essay about his piercings.

“Just answer the question,” Kaoru says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you like your piercings so much, maybe show them off more?” Kojirou sighs. “I don’t know, you have more hair than any human being is supposed to have. It hides the piercings.”

Kaoru snorts. “Complain to my mother about that.”

But Kaoru entertains the idea.

16.

Keeping his hair long is a simple matter of preference. There is no rule in his family stating that its members should have a specific length of hair, so why not? Very few boys and men have it this long, and Kojirou always asks him why he bothers taking care of such a useless physical feature when all it does is getting into his way when he skates. Kaoru admits he does have a point, but he likes his hair.

Kaoru is currently tying it into a ponytail, lazily skating on the sidewalk around their neighborhood. Kojirou is skating at his side eating an entire soda flavored Garigari-kun popsicle, shoving it into his mouth and crunching into the ice because he likes having brain freeze.

“Hey, it’s your birthday next week,” Kojirou announces, like it’s the most thrilling event of the week. “Did you plan something? Wanna go explore some new skating areas?”

Kaoru flips his hair over his shoulder and shrugs. Kojirou is looking at him curiously, almost intently, and that makes Kaoru raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, but it’s also on the same day as some renown calligrapher from Tokyo visiting our studio. So yeah.”

“All the way from Tokyo? That sounds important.”

“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Simply thinking about all the formal procedures that will take place in his house and the fact he will have to be on his “best behavior, please, Kaoru” is pissing him off. He’s not interested in hearing about the works of this supposedly famous and talented calligrapher bestowing upon their modest family his knowledge and wise advice. Kaoru doesn’t even know why he still attends the calligraphy lessons when he’s pretty sure he’ll go into computer science or something. His parents are always on his case about maintaining his posture and improving his strokes every day, and at some point Kaoru started obeying to make their noisy demands stop. He doesn’t genuinely hate the art itself; he simply thinks that his time is better spent elsewhere. What does calligraphy have when computers can do much more fascinating stuff?

Kojirou is nibbling at the popsicle stick, eyeing him with that critical look he often gets when he considers throwing paper balls at Kaoru in class, or when he thinks that Kaoru needs a snack to calm down, like some fucking animal he’s trying to tame—Kaoru hates that somehow, food always works.

“You want to ditch?” Kojirou asks as neutrally as possible, but Kaoru hears the sympathy in his voice. Which is appreciated, but unnecessary.

“No, I was actually thinking of scandalizing my parents by cutting my hair and having it cropped short,” Kaoru says with a half-feral grin. “Like, strands of hair sticking everywhere and impossible to make it look presentable.”

Kojirou almost stumbles on his skateboard, even though it’s a straight line and he wasn’t even pushing with his feet on the concrete.

“What?! But you never shut up about your hair!”

“You fucking liar, I only ever say I like having it long!”

“Yeah, that still makes it stupid! Why would you cut your hair if you like it long?”

“Because hair grows again?”

“Not as fast as you’d think, if you even thought about it before blurting out you want to get a bowl cut.”

“Disheveled and rowdy haircut, not a bowl cut, you idiot!”

They make a turn at the corner of the street, expertly avoiding a kid walking her dog and dodging the woman carrying groceries behind her, not without getting scolded for skating in residential areas (or skating at all) but those are words that go in one ear and exit in the other. Kaoru smiles to himself and kicks into the ground to get more speed, jumps and flips his board in the air before landing on it again with minimal risk of smashing his face in the concrete. He lifts a fist in the air with a whooping cry.

“Oh hey, that was a good one!” he exclaims, giving Kojirou a radiant grin.

“You mastered this trick long ago, why are you so excited?” Kojirou grumbles.

“Because it felt nice, that’s all. Be happy about the small things in life, that’s what you keep saying.”

“Sometimes I feel you’re purposely throwing back my words at my face only when it’s convenient for you.”

“I always listen to you, even if it might come as a surprise.”

Kaoru laughs, spinning his board and continuing on a straight line, ahead of Kojirou. Today’s weather is pleasant and he can’t wait for the end of the school year at the end of the week to go skating all day. It will come with more calligraphy practice, but at least he will have time for his other hobbies too. And if he can’t focus on anything at home, he can still go to Kojirou’s place and bother him all day.

“Then don’t cut your hair!” Kojirou shouts, catching up to him.

The lines on Kojirou’s face are weird, all upset and a bit worried, and that’s not an expression Kaoru is used to see when they’re talking about haircuts, of all things. Maybe when they’re doing their geography homework or when they’ve spent one hour practicing tricks and got more bruises than actual results, but not hair.

“What’s up with you?” Kaoru asks, slowing down. “It’s just my hair. It’s a good prank.”

“You’re going to look like a bird’s nest for at least three months, you okay with that?” Kojirou retorts.

“That’s not the worst thing in existence. And if I recall, you told me last year I should show off my piercings more, so having short hair would effectively do that.”

Kojirou groans and drags a hand across his face, almost looking defeated.

“Just style it in a way that makes your piercings visible, then,” Kojirou adds. “You… have nice hair.”

Kaoru blinks. Kojirou looks straight ahead, his posture stiff, determined not to turn his head in Kaoru’s direction.

“I have nice hair,” Kaoru repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to cut my hair because it looks nice?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the most honest compliment you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, I’m never complimenting you ever again!”

Kojirou speeds up, but not before Kaoru catches a glimpse of his reddening ears. The situation is starting to make even less sense, but seeing Kojirou so flustered over nothing is piquing Kaoru’s interest and his lips stretch in a wide grin. Kaoru joins Kojirou in their less-than-recommended skating speed.

“Okay, but you’re being weird!” Kaoru shouts over the sound of their wheels scratching against the ground. “Was that an offer to style my hair?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kojirou mutters.

“You’re the one who suggested it, you can’t drop the topic!”

It’s almost comical to see two teenagers loudly arguing about a pointless subject while skateboarding and avoiding any obstacles they come across, as if being on a board is the same as walking. Passersby shoot them quizzical looks and a lot of adults are clearly not approving their noise level.

They end up skating all the way to the playground near the elementary school of the neighborhood, where a few kids are playing while their parents are watching over them. There is a skating park farther away, but people are already using it and Kaoru doesn’t like skating with people not part of their crew unless he’s looking for a fight. So they keep skating around, at a lower speed because colliding with children won’t exactly look good on either of them.

“Fine, keep being stubborn, you asshole,” Kaoru grumbles. “I’ll get another piercing.”

Kojirou finally jerks his head towards Kaoru, his expression a lot less constipated and more curious. “On such a short notice?”

“I’ll find a way. And even if I can’t get it done before my birthday, it will still be infuriating for my parents.”

Kaoru taps at his lower lip, not missing the way Kojirou’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

“I wanted to get a lip ring, anyway,” he says.

There is something simply enthralling in a lip ring—the light catches on it, and people are immediately in admiration when they see it. Not everyone has the guts to get one, after all.

Kojirou slowly nods, tearing his gaze away from Kaoru’s face.

“If you want,” he says. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“You’re so weird today.” Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“You’re the weird one, obsessed with piercings.”

“You just wish you could be as cool as me. Race you to my home!”

“Damn it Kaoru, stop cheating!”

Kaoru ignores Kojirou and launches himself at full speed to make his skateboard pivot and turn around, going back from the way they came. Kojirou is still yelling at him.

Kaoru doesn’t manage to get his lip pierced before his birthday, but he does sweep the left side of his hair behind his head and keep it in place with a hair clamp, leaving his earrings in plain sight. To the calligrapher’s credit, upon seeing who the supposed Sakurayashiki heir is, he makes only the vaguest noise of shock before getting into business. Kaoru smiles all throughout the visit.

17.

Kaoru’s seventeenth birthday remains one of the most special days of his life.

He got gifts, snacks and high-fives from various people whom he cares more or less about (the crew bought a cake but Kaoru only got a thin slice of it because they are greedy bastards), while Kojirou bought him a book on AI that was way too expensive even if he has a part-time job salary (Kaoru wrestled him to the ground when he recognized the book).

Adam takes them skating in a place they’ve never explored before.

It’s beautiful. Exciting, captivating and alluring, making them use all their senses to turn at the right time, to ride down a hill without losing control, and to feel the full path reverberated through their bodies in shock waves. Skateboarding is fun, but this is on another level entirely—it’s like sliding on the edge of a cliff, giving heart palpitations but also an intoxicating feeling of a game that needs to be beaten, whose ending is all worth these efforts.

The three of them are skating as if wings sprouted on their back, uncaring of the world outside of their little bubble of thrills. Kaoru watches in fascination as Adam seems to fly across the track, smooth in his skating and unconcerned with the bumpy road. The wind seems to be an inconsequential factor in his descent in the slope, moving along with it and never straying far from the road. It’s subjugating, it’s beautiful, it’s freedom.

“Watch where you’re skating, idiot!” Kojirou yells right next to him, startling Kaoru out of his reverie.

Kaoru crouches low and makes a sharp turn, avoiding a rock that would have sent him sprawling. He straightens and keeps going at a controlled pace, glaring at Kojirou.

“I know what I’m doing!” he grunts.

“You almost smacked that wall with your face,” Kojirou points out with a glare of his own. “Stop getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Kaoru snaps back automatically.

But the look Kojirou is giving him is indescribable, so foreign on his face and even more so as it is directed at Kaoru. There is something brewing in the air and Kaoru doesn’t like it, doesn’t want a chasm opening between them because of a stupid argument, but he doesn’t even know what made Kojirou so irritable in the first place.

Adam is waiting for them at the end of the path, watching them arriving at a sullen pace with a raised eyebrow. Kaoru stops right in front of him and plasters a smile on his face, much more eager to talk about they’ve come here for.

“That’s an amazing place! Skating here is so fun, we can make a challenge out of a lot of things in this mountain.”

“Yes, the turns are different and there are many slopes that we need to be careful of,” Adam agrees, smiling. “I truly believe we can accomplish a lot, if we do it together. I want to create a special race here for skaters to push their limits.”

Adam looks at Kaoru, then at Kojirou—the glint of mischief and of confidence reflected in his eyes is the same as the one that pulls everyone in his orbit, making them give their all to become the best. It’s a look that Kaoru feels inextricably drawn to, enamored with the unbridled possibilities he imagines behind words that promise a paradise of freedom grander than anything they’ve ever known.

“You both have skills that will be useful to establish this race,” Adam continues. “People are following you and your skating is among the best. I said before that you guys were special, and I mean it.”

Kaoru does not preen, but the shivers that course through his body as Adam opens his heart are ones that feel pleasant, almost addictive. His grin splits his face in two.

“You can count on us, we’re going to create the best skating race in existence,” Kaoru assures. “Right, Kojirou?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Kojirou’s earnest tone is almost a relief—he’s clearly as excited about this race as them, and Kaoru would have been seriously worried if that wasn’t the case.

For the first time, the joyous expression on Adam’s face seems to be born out of sincerity plucked from the deepest corner of his heart. It suits him; it makes him look even more radiant than usual. Kaoru can’t look away.

“It’s decided, then,” Adam says. “The three of us, inaugurating the “S” race. Together.”

On that day, when Kaoru turned seventeen and his mind was filled with nothing but skateboarding, he thought that this is what belonging felt like.

18.

Sitting perfectly straight, legs tucked under him, Kaoru picks up a brush, dips it into ink he has carefully ground, presses it against the sheet of paper and splashes black trails all over it. The ink drips outside of the frame and stains the tatami floor of the study he hasn’t bothered to protect, littering everything in dark, angry marks that resemble the work of a child throwing a tantrum.

There is no word, no poem written on his paper. Half of the inkstick is grossly used up, its tip almost falling apart, like it wasn’t deemed worthy of being respected as one of the treasures of calligraphy. Kaoru is filling the paper with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not even rage moving his arm like a possessed demon. It would have been easier to deal with, if it was rage; handling it requires minimal effort, as he can mindlessly let his heart wreak havoc upon anything his hands come into contact with, or he can scream all the grievances he’s bottled up to clear the space occupied by unpleasant thoughts. Rage is physical, in and out, and Kaoru’s had years of practice getting rid of it.

But this is not rage that nudges him in the direction of destroying a perfectly good piece of paper with expensive ink and an even more expensive brush, tarnishing their quality and the noble use they are destined to. It’s cold and quiet resignation, trapping him in his own mind as he lets himself be selfish one last time and act out in childish anger.

Kaoru’s eighteenth birthday is spent alone, grieving his dream of ever cutting ties with family traditions. He hasn’t touched a skateboard in months and he hasn’t tinkered with his AI program in even longer. There was no point anyway—Kojirou has other things to focus on, and Adam left.

Kaoru was a fool to think he was strong and resolute enough to follow a path that is not written with the same deep ink as the one he’s used all his life.

20.

“You can legally drink now, congrats.”

“Great. I can sip my alcohol in the presence of guests and pretend I’m enjoying their company when all I want is getting drunk.”

“That’s not very professional, soon-to-be Sakurayashiki-sensei.”

“You’re one to talk, I bet you’re consuming way too many beers at those parties. Has gaining muscle mass made you lose brain cells?”

“Hey, you four-eyes, that was uncalled for!”

There is something moving behind Kojirou, a door opening and someone poking his head inside, and Kojirou turns his head to rattle off a few words in Italian before facing the camera again. Chin resting in his palm, Kaoru is watching with a raised eyebrow Kojirou’s roommate rummage through Kojirou’s dressing, before retreating back into the corridor.

“Does he make a habit to walk around your shared apartment half-naked?” Kaoru asks.

Kojirou laughs, waving his hand. “He was looking for a clean shirt, he forgot to do laundry yesterday. I told him he could borrow one of mine.”

“I’m surprised you still find shirts your size with the way your body’s taking the shape of a gorilla’s.”

“Just admit you’re jealous of my perfect muscles.”

Kojirou makes a show of flexing his bicep and Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of that gorilla body that is unnecessarily big.” Kaoru deadpans.

“Believe it or not, it makes skating a lot more fun too,” Kojirou adds with a smile. “More power in the legs to do tricks.”

Kojirou looks...satisfied with the direction his life is taking. Kaoru is happy for him—studying abroad in culinary school and discovering a whole new culture seems to be the change of pace Kojirou needed. Sometimes Kaoru wishes he could also skate in the places full of pipes and curvy roads that Kojirou shows him, but he has to make do with the familiar tracks he’s skated on all his life.

“I upgraded Carla to calculate distances faster and to automatically record what she sees,” Kaoru says with a hint of smugness.

“Your AI having a girl’s name will never stop being weird,” Kojirou groans. “Why haven’t you chosen something normal like “Ghost Voice” or “Robotico”?”

“An AI is not a robot.” Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of having to repeat this for the umpteenth time. “Your Roomba is a robot. Carla recognizes many more things than the shape of your apartment.”

“Then program Carla to clean my apartment too.”

“Carla isn’t a vacuum cleaner, you dimwit!”

“That’s a big shame, maybe you should also create an AI cooking for you!”

Kaoru opens his mouth to reply something scathing, then snaps it shut. On the screen, Kojirou frowns.

“Don’t,” Kojirou warns.

“We have enough resources and data to program an AI that creates recipes from a list of ingredients,” Kaoru says anyway. “If we implement it into a robot, with the correct code and careful adjustments, then maybe it will be a decent cook.”

“If you start making a cook AI I don’t want to heart about it,” Kojirou mutters.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Do you think I have enough hours in a day to focus on another project? Carla already requires my full attention.”

There is no need for him to say that calligraphy practice is what he does most of the day, if he’s not attending courses on speech or on business. It’s his life now; he chose to become the next Sakurayashiki calligrapher and he can’t back down now. Not that he’s ever fully considered leaving calligraphy behind for one of his better, more interesting hobbies—and this was exactly the problem. He never untied his hands from the string tethering him to a brush.

“You always want to work on something, so I’m expecting anything from you when you’re bored,” Kojirou says with a smirk.

“Maybe my next project will make gorillas like you shut up.”

Kaoru is twenty years old, discovering every day new aspects of himself in a professional environment, but one thing that never changes is the comfort of simply existing as himself when he talks to Kojirou.

22.

Kaoru spends a couple of years simmering in feelings he doesn’t acknowledge.

He isn’t someone who takes the time to reflect on his own feelings, negative or positive. They simply happen and he decides on whether to act on them—which has been true since he was a child, throwing tantrums when he didn’t like the task he was asked to do, kicking someone he didn’t agree with as a teenager, and deflecting when answering journalists’ questions that would force him to look deep into his heart. He lives in the moment and tries very hard not to burden himself with useless thoughts and regrets he can’t act upon.

He doesn’t dwell more than necessary on his choice to inherit the family calligraphy studio, because it will lead to nothing productive. He has perhaps harbored ill feelings towards calligraphy in the past, but they’re not so visceral he can’t execute the job he’s been trained for since he could hold a brush. Sometimes he thinks he could have rejected everything he’s been taught and disappoint his family for the rest of his life, but he immediately chases the thought away and decides that suffering through a successful career of calligrapher appears to be a small sacrifice compared to the headaches that would have come with removing himself from the Sakurayashiki studio.

He’s a full grown adult, by society’s standards. He shed his sweaters for yukatas and took off his piercings with reluctance, feeling like he ripped off a part of himself that’s been with him forever to fit into a mold he’s accepted as his new normal. Those were remnants of his old, carefree life that he abandoned, and it’d be preposterous to wish for things to have gone differently.

At least he has his AI—a new spin to a traditional art that is resistant to change. Carla is efficient, impressive and shocks people into admiration; Kaoru has upgraded and improved the code as many times as it required, making her compatible with every device in his possession so that she could accompany him in all his tasks. Skating became a game of precision, detail and finesse, aiming for perfection beyond what the average mind would think of. Calligraphy is enhanced and magnified, the digital aspect adding beauty in an art that is almost exclusively done by hand. Incorporating technology in his otherwise boring job undoubtedly made his days easier and more fun.

Kaoru isn’t dissatisfied. He can do better, but he could have done worse. However, if there is one thing that makes him antsy it’s the realization that he’s seeing less of Kojirou with each passing day, and he would have never thought it would leave a growing ache in his chest every time he thinks about it.

They have their own lives to live. It’s part of growing up—and he hasn’t completely lost his best friend yet.

25.

They have been wandering the streets of Paris for exactly ten minutes and Kaoru is already starting to regret his decision.

“It’s not that hard to read a map,” he seethes, trying to grab Kojirou’s phone.

Kojirou lifts the device higher and turns his back on Kaoru, stubbornly keeping his eyes riveted on the screen.

“I’ve got this, stop distracting me,” Kojirou says.

“The metro station is right there, let’s just change itinerary, stupid gorilla!”

“You want to take the metro when we could explore the city on foot?”

“The probability of getting shitted on by pigeons is way too high for my liking.”

This gets an undignified snort from Kojirou, more amused than mocking though Kaoru knows not to assume when every one of his words can be thrown back at his face later on.

They do end up taking the metro. They can go anywhere in Paris by bus or metro, making it extremely convenient to find their way but it gets overwhelming really fast—the metro lines seem to be full of people at all hours of the day, according to Kaoru’s extensive research before their trip, and they are nothing like the monorail they have back in Okinawa. Most passengers are focused on their phones, while others are taking a quick nap, which is not that different from what they’re used to.

“It can’t be worse than the Tokyo rail lines,” Kaoru mutters as they’re being shaken by the train doing a particularly sharp and violent turn.

“You’ve never been to Tokyo,” Kojirou replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I did last year for a meeting.”

“And that single trip was enough for you to get the full experience of the infamous rush of Tokyo’s Yamanote line?”

“I wasn’t saying I used the Yamanote line, imbecile. All trains are crowded. I think you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze in with your gorilla body.”

“At least I’m not at risk of going blind when someone knocks off my glasses by pushing me around in a crowd!”

“I always carry a second pair of glasses with me to avoid this kind of incident!”

It’s probably a good thing that this line of metro makes the same level of noise as a tractor revved up at full power, because their arguing is by no means quiet and people are starting to stare at them. But as soon as Kaoru glances at them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t gawking. Typical.

March weather is terrible. Their trip lasts one week, and there is an equal number of sunny days and of cloudy days, with high probability of rain. It shouldn’t be normal to have a changing weather so unpredictable that it makes planning for their day a real pain in the ass. Kojirou is already complaining about the sun beginning to leave space for clouds at merely eleven in the morning, and Kaoru silently agrees with the sentiment.

The food is good, at least.

“Reminds me a bit of what restaurants looked like in Italy,” Kojirou says around a mouthful of beef. “Maybe I can draw inspiration from those recipes.”

“It’s not Italian cuisine,” Kaoru points out. “Unless you intend to make a mixed menu.”

“Of course not, but the flavors can be useful.”

Kojirou is examining his piece of vegetable like a scientist observing an experiment under a microscope, as if it could give him the secrets of its cooking time or the spices used for it. Kaoru lightly kicks him under the table, and Kojirou hisses.

“Stop being weird and eat your food.”

“Do you really have to hit me every time you want to make a point?”

“I’m not hitting that hard.”

The other way around is more likely to happen; Kaoru won’t ever admit it but he doubts that Kojirou feels more pain than Kaoru does when he hits him. Those muscles are ridiculous and entirely unnecessary, honestly.

They take pictures at the landmarks and get mad at the long lines and narrow their eyes at the price of various food and drinks they stumble upon. They’re not short on money, but drinking a cup of café au lait at twice the price of what they can find in regular coffee shops doesn’t leave a good taste in their mouth. Kojirou uses the knowledge from his time in Italy to make educated guesses on whether they’re paying something at an unreasonable price or not—he looks a bit too smug doing so but Kaoru lets it slide for once and allows him to play the role of the brain for this specific aspect of their trip. Kaoru can at least trust Kojirou’s judgment when money is concerned (even if his intuition can be skewed sometimes).

“It’s only because it’s your birthday trip that I’m putting up with your need to visit museums,” Kojirou says, waving at the multiple pamphlets they gathered after three days of sightseeing.

“Having some culture ingrained in your mind is nothing but beneficial for you,” Kaoru retorts evenly.

Kojirou rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in that conversation, and gets up from his bed of their hotel room. It’s past midnight but they’re still wide awake. Sharing one room would be awkward or embarrassing for a lot of people, but Kaoru has known Kojirou half his life and it would be ridiculous to feel self-conscious now, when they’ve seen each other in various states of undress and wakefulness. Perhaps the only complaint Kaoru will voice that he didn’t have when he was thirteen is that the older Kojirou gets, the louder his snoring is (as if the noise level grows with the wideness of his body).

“Hey, Kaoru.”

Kaoru looks up from tomorrow’s schedule displayed on his phone to come face to face with a giant box of pastries and Kojirou’s bright grin. Kojirou is holding the box one-handed, slightly bent forward, like he would a tray to present his dish to his most loyal customers.

“Happy birthday, four-eyes,” Kojirou says on a light tone.

“Must you call me names when you’re wishing me happy birthday?” Kaoru scoffs, but he eyes the pastries with unconcealed interest.

They went to a bakery in the afternoon for a snack, buying a croissant, a pain au chocolat and a pain aux raisins because they apparently lack self control when it comes to cheap baked goods—but for some reason Kaoru missed the moment Kojirou acquired this box of pastries.

“It’s past midnight,” Kaoru reminds him.

Kojirou shrugs. “We’re grown adults and on holiday, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.”

“There are six different pastries in this box.”

“Nobody’s saying we should eat all of them right now, moron. Save some of them for tomorrow.”

They end up eating three pasties, one half each, while arguing about the pros and cons of buying smaller portions of different sweets over getting an entire cake for a birthday, as well as the point of starting celebrating said birthday at midnight instead of simply waiting for morning. They’ve had these conversations before, at Kaoru’s or Kojirou’s birthday over the years, but it seems they never grow sick of repeating the same arguments even when the topic is stupid.

It’s like a well-oiled machine; pushing on one button always leads to the same result. Kaoru and Kojirou argue because this is what they’re used to do, a response at their lips even before they hear the end of the other’s sentence. What comes out of their mouths takes the shape of banter but Kaoru, even though he usually ignores it, notices how at ease he is in these moments.

Kojirou invited him for this trip even if he didn’t have to, and bought pastries to share at midnight like they’re holding a small party. His face is illuminated by his generosity and his big heart that finds a way to carve itself in his eyes.

“Let’s go skating tomorrow afternoon, it will be fun,” Kojirou suggests, mischief and plain desire to have fun glimmering in his gaze.

And Kaoru can’t say no.

They brought their boards, like they did when they traveled to Los Angeles. It might sound like a waste of space in their luggage, but nobody has a say in what they consider fun. Kaoru had to change Carla’s battery for her to fall under airport regulation, which was a hassle on short notice (Kojirou dropped a plane ticket on Kaoru’s lap a week before departure, and Kaoru shoved back money at him but it somehow ended back in his hands after a few minutes of jostling) but definitely worth it, because there’s no way he will skate with a lower quality board.

On March 27th, when Kaoru turns twenty-five years old, he almost resorts to a more physical solution to win petty squabbles against skaters in another country, a behavior he was prone to display when he was seventeen. But he’s an adult who is traveling for leisure and isn’t foolish enough to ruin the trip by punching someone when he can skate away and show off with a few tricks involving exact calculations and perfect angles, so this is what he does—after Kojirou, admittedly, forced him to remain calm, as though he was his impulse control when Kojirou is just as quick to rise to a challenge.

Maybe the difference is that Kojirou isn’t a cocky bastard like Kaoru is. Debatable, but Kaoru won’t deny that he loves the feeling of achieving something flashy or impressive. Getting into trouble for it is always worth it, especially if Kojirou is there to live it with him. It’s never the same without Kojirou—they might bicker and have more arguments then actual conversations, but Kojirou’s a warm presence enveloping him in a tight hug he can never quite shake off.

The trip to Paris isn’t half-bad, and it’s full of memories with the person he trusts the most.

26.

Kojirou is very, very still when Kaoru finally stops fighting with himself and leans his head on his shoulder, completely wasted after drinking too much wine at this event gathering too many important people to talk to and drink with. The taxi is silent and all he can hear is the screech of the wheels on the asphalt.

“Rest until we reach your home,” Kojirou says, something akin to laughter in his voice.

“Hm.”

Kaoru registers the words coming out of Kojirou’s mouth, and judges them acceptable before closing his eyes and letting himself be rocked by the car drive. In his drunken haze, when he called Kojirou to be picked up, he forgot Kojirou lent his car to his little brother; remembering such an essential detail would have saved them a lot of trouble, but Kojirou called a taxi and is now sitting with Kaoru in the backseat instead of going back to his own home. What an idiot.

Kojirou helps him into his apartment, grumbling as his elbows hit the walls and his feet get caught in stray shoes in the genkan that Kaoru eventually wanted to sort out and put away. They manage to get to the couch, and Kaoru collapses on it without grace and lets out a long groan, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I’m not drinking at this sort of event again,” he complains.

“That’s your fault for not limiting yourself,” Kojirou sounds unimpressed. “You always say you’ll stop drinking but you keep doing it.”

“Half a glass with each guest is customary. Beyond that is called showing off.”

“So you’re showing off, stupid four-eyes.”

“Shut up, gorilla. I have something to prove.”

Kojirou’s sigh is filled with such apparent exasperation that Kaoru immediately realizes how petty and ridiculous he just sounded.

“On the day of your birthday, to top it all,” Kojirou says. “Do you need babysitting?”

“You are not going to babysit me,” Kaoru snaps. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, and you’ll start bitching tomorrow morning because you forgot to drink water and take a shower.”

“I’m not that incompetent, you giant brainless idiot.”

Kojirou doesn’t deign responding to his insult and slides behind the kitchen counter. Kaoru drops his arm and watches him rummaging through the cabinets with too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live there. Kojirou comes back with a glass of water and two slices of bread that Kaoru usually eats in the morning when he’s too lazy to make breakfast.

“You probably didn’t eat much, since your robophile brain was wired on ingesting wine.”

“I just said I don’t need your help,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojirou ignores him and deposits the items on the coffee table. He then sits down next to Kaoru, causing Kaoru to shift further on his side of the couch because of his needlessly big body.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Kaoru grumbles, leaning forward to snatch the water and the bread, pretending that his world didn’t start spinning as he did so. He takes a few sips of the water.

“Your couch isn’t large enough.”

“It’s your body that’s not average size, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re suspiciously coherent for someone who says he’s drunk.”

Kaoru shrugs, foregoing manners as he speaks and munches on the bread at the same time. “My mind is clear, my thoughts aren’t confused in the least.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Kaoru looks at the time displayed on his TV box, sitting on the stand pushed against the opposite wall of where they’re sitting. He squints at the numbers, slightly blurry despite his glasses still resting on his nose. He has no idea what time it is.

“Eleven forty-seven,” Kaoru announces.

“No, it’s twelve forty-seven,” Kojirou snickers. “Finish that, take a shower and go to bed.”

“And you’re going to stay here and take up space in my apartment?”

“Well, if your event hadn’t run for so long, I would have spent some time with you anyway since it’s your birthday. So I might as well stay until you fall asleep.”

Several things get jumbled in his head at that moment, and Kaoru stares at Kojirou in disbelief. There’s something funny and warm happening in the pit of his stomach.

“You have nothing else to do,” Kaoru asks, or accuses—he doesn’t know how his voice comes across.

“Just go to sleep, Kaoru.”

Kojirou takes the empty glass from Kaoru’s hands and puts it on the table. He then tugs Kaoru upright, holding his wrists in a gentle and careful grip, as if Kaoru will break if he’s not handled in the most delicate manner. Half of the second slice of bread is lying abandoned in the plate, but Kaoru doesn’t particularly mind as he realizes, with strange clarity, that this isn’t unpleasant to be taken care of like this. Kojirou is smiling at him with his most genuine expression, and Kaoru has to look down to avoid his gaze, embarrassed and fulfilled and relieved all at once.

28.

It’s been a long time coming, Kaoru thinks as his fingers tangle in Kojirou’s hair and he brings him closer, always closer to him. The night is warm and too uncomfortable for a spring day, but the heat twisting his stomach is from something entirely separate. His lips meet Kojirou’s endlessly, like this act alone will make him absorb whatever Kojirou is willing to give to him for safekeeping. It’s the first time they’re kissing and yet it feels like they should have been doing this for years now, hiding under the shade of a tree or behind a rocky wall to share a private moment together, in a pocket of time that will burst only when they decide to drop all pretenses.

He knows it’s been a long time coming, because Kojirou is laughing against his lips, and when Kaoru cracks an eye open he sees how open and fond Kojirou’s face is. Kaoru immediately wants to close his eyes again and to stop noticing how luminous everything has become.

“We’re so dumb,” Kojirou says.

“You are stupid, for holding back all those years,” Kaoru retorts.

“Yeah, now it’s my fault for being considerate of your feelings towards me.”

“If you believed for one instant that I’d cut ties with you, then you’re more foolish than I thought you were.”

Kojirou still has hi arms wound around Kaoru’s back, and when he shrugs he presses Kaoru closer to himself. There is no anger and no regret in his eyes or his posture, as though nothing in the world would strip him of the bliss he’s currently being filled with. Kaoru finds himself drunk on the sight.

“I didn’t think that, no. I was just too scared of doing anything that will cause a shift in our relationship.”

The words sound strange, once Kaoru hears them spoken out loud. Kojirou is the one constant in his life that never changed, a shadow at his back and a light guiding him. They’ve both seen each other at their worst and their best, tending to bruises and squeezing a shoulder in comfort or riling each other up as part of their routine. Kojirou is an entity that exists at Karou’s side, full of familiarity and overflowing with kindness that doesn’t need to be voiced.

Kojirou is stupid for ever having hesitated or doubted the strength of their bond. But Kaoru is stupid, too, for simply taking what Kojirou was offering without ever giving back properly.

“We’re never having this conversation again,” Kaoru warns, tugging at Kojirou’s hair and pressing his forehead against his. “I trust you, Kojirou. I always have. This isn’t going to change.”

Kojirou is clinging to every one of his words, looking at Kaoru with the most enraptured expression he’s ever shown. Like this is a dream that cannot be real. Kaoru scowls.

“Don’t look so surprised, gorilla. That’s not a secret.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m simply enjoying that you’re saying it at all,” Kojirou laughs.

“You never say anything pleasant about me either.”

“You’re the one who barges into my restaurant and half the time demand dishes that aren’t even on the menu, and I still cook them! I’m being nice enough!”

“What else would you do in a restaurant, muscles for brain ape?”

“I don’t know, cook a dish I have the actual ingredients for?”

Kaoru’s lips are pulled upward despite everything, his heart as light as ever in Kojirou’s presence. The ease surrounding them remains the same, electric veil sealing them in their own brand of intimacy they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

It feels effortless, then, to switch to a less barbed attitude but still retaining playfulness. Kaoru brushes strands of hair out of Kojirou’s face, and Kojirou runs a thumb under Kaoru’s eye.

“It’s my birthday at the end of the week,” Kaoru whispers, locking eyes with Kojirou. “Take me somewhere nice.”

“Bossy as ever,” Kojirou sighs, though his voice sounds like contentment and bliss contained in a space called home.

Kaoru smiles.

#matchablossom #joecherry #matcha blossom #kaoru sakurayashiki #kojiro nanjo #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #kaoru is like 'i know i have feelings but i'm making the decision of not seeing them' #i'm fascinated by his change from punk high schooler to stoic adult #i also have more thoughts about kaoru+calligraphy relationship that i'll eventually write down #when i have the time o(-(

[sanderssides-secretsanta]

Sanders Sides Secret Santa gift #2!!

This is my second piece for this exchange!! My recipient was @lovelivingmydreams

I really enjoyed this prompt! I hope you enjoy ^^

- - -

You'd never peg Virgil for the type to start small games, would you? Most wouldn't. Roman knew his boyfriend better though. 

Virgil and Roman had started dating about 4 months ago, when Roman had (figuratively) poured his heart out to Virgil in a moment of tired stupidity. Luckily for them, they're both tired and stupid.

After a kiss, and another, and wherever that led, they made it official. However, they knew how Thomas' fans were, along with a few of the other sides themselves, and Virgil had his doubts about making it public. After a bit of thinking (staring into a coffee mug and murmuring to himself while Roman sipped his tea) he had the perfect plan.

Well, perfect is a slight overstatement.

They decided they'd keep it secret, technically. They just didn't outwardly say it, but they slipped small hints. Virgil leaning his head on Roman's head to see what he was drawing. Roman placing his arm on the emo nightmare's shoulder and said nightmare not objecting, for once. Holding hands beneath the dinner table. You know, all that romantic jazz. As much as Virgil claimed to hate it, he really liked it when it came from his knight in a onesie. 

So now it was a game to see who would figure it out first. They were taking bets, actually. Roman betted on Logan or Remus. Logan because he was observant as fuck, and Remus because somehow his annoying twin always managed to figure this sort of thing out, despite his, as Roman said, "brain smaller than the pea under the princess's mattress!"

Virgil had instantly shot that down, placing his bet on Patton and Janus. Logan had no clue when it came to romance, and Remus was more... lust. Patton tended to be more in-tune with feelings like that, and Janus obviously just knew when someone was lying. Maybe Janus had an unfair advantage. 

Either way, they went about their daily lives. Nobody caught on for quite a bit, actually. 

It was one movie night in Roman's room when Patton first saw them properly close. Virgil with his head leaning on Roman's, who had his on Virgil's chest. 

"Hey kiddos! Just wanted to- oh!" He stopped as he walked in. Virgil instantly looked around at Patton, then back at his chest, then at Patton again. He raised a finger to his lips.

"Shhhhhh! The idiot fell asleep. He'll be cranky if I wake him up now. We're fine, ok?" Virgil told him in what wasn't higher than a whisper. Patton nodded.

"Mhm! Sorry." He said, waving as he walked out.

Virgil sighed, before chuckling softly. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss to the top of Roman's head.

"And so it begins." 

Logan was next, surprisingly. He'd only noticed when one day, at breakfast, Roman passed Virgil his coffee, their hands lingering for a moment longer than the standard amount. They sat down with their shoulders nearly touching. 

He watched them for a bit, analysing them behind his glasses. Roman caught his eye first, looking up from his food and raising an eyebrow.

"Whatcha staring at, nerd?" He asked. Logan cleared his throat.

"Ah, nothing. My apologies, it's just... you seem awfully close, both physically speaking and relationship wise. Has something changed?" He asked. Roman scoffed. Virgil seemed pretty zoned out.

"Me and emo nightmare? Nah, not a chance in Olympus. Keep theorising though, pocket protector. It's funny!" He said with a grin as he proceeds to nearly choke on his cereal. Logan sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. Virgil was trying his hardest not to laugh.

Somehow, Remus came next. To Janus' credit, he was often in his rooms plotting something or other. Or, that's how Virgil described it. But either way, all of the sides (bar Logan and Janus) were watching a movie. Nightmare Before Christmas; a classic. Roman had taken his position on the armchair, with Virgil laying across the couch onto Roman with his head in his lap. Patton sat on the couch with what was probably hot chocolate, and Remus lay on the floor, shirt discarded earlier in the night. 

At one point, Remus clearly lost focus in the movie, looking up at Roman and Virgil's position (which could NOT have been comfortable for Virgil; he was leaning across two couch arms and onto someone's legs). He let out a loud snicker, not trying to silence himself. Virgil looked down.

"Something funny?"

"Yeah, you two dorks. Hah, dorks."

"Shut up. What's funny about us then?" He asked. Roman was still watching the movie, but he listened to the others talk. 

"You look like you're tryna fuckin' break your back, and Roman over there would've tossed you off of him like a corpse this time last year. Something happen? Hm, hm??" He asked with a grin. Patton looked over in curiosity, but lost interest just as fast.

Roman chimed in now.

"Don't get any dirty ideas, brother! No, I'm simply being decent and letting Mr Gloom here sit where he wants. Is that so bad?"

"Sit is a very far stretch! He looks like he has no bones! Which I am not opposed to, by the way."

Virgil scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You would like that, wouldn't you gremlin?"

"Yep!"

Roman threw a handful of popcorn at Remus, which quickly shut him up. Not because he was defeated, just because he wanted to see how that whole thing played out.

As the movie continued, Roman let his hand on Virgil's stomach, where one of the latter's hands rested. In the dark room, they let their fingers intertwine.

Obviously, they'd have to find out at some point. It was a given, all games have to end someday. It was dinner in the mind palace, and a pleasant one at that. All the sides decides to eat together since Thomas was in a good mood (he was eating with Nico today!) and nobody was complaining. Despite how much they claim to hate each other, they really are friends.

Well, friends is an understatement for some. 

Roman and Virgil were called to dinner, making them leave their blanket cocoon they'd built around themselves. Virgil groaned.

"I don't wanna move yet." He said with a pout. This just made Roman laugh.

"Well, we're eating with the others today, soo..." He snickered. "Oh no, the dreaded social interaction!"

Virgil just shot him a glare as Roman laughed. Once he'd had his moment, Roman stood up and shook off his blankets. He looked down at Virgil before smirking.

"...I don't like that look."

"Pffft- stay still, emo!"

"Wha-? hEY-!"

Virgil let out a yell as Roman swept him off the bed and onto his feet, spinning him around before he fully touched the ground. Despite his first protest, Virgil laughed as Roman spun him. They both laughed as the purple boy stopped, world spinning for him.

"Ready now, hot topic?"

"Sure, sure. Let's go, disneyworld."

As they turned to the door, they stopped. 

Four familiar faces stood at the door, all with their own variants of grins. Patton seemed excited, Logan was taking down some notes witb a smirk, And Remus and Janus were both grinning.

"I told you, Dee!! They're so fucking gay!" Remus exclaimed, making Janus laugh, along with Logan.

Roman felt the blush coating his cheeks as he facepalmed. He expected Virgil to be freaking out, and he was prepared to help, but as he looked at Virgil, all he saw was... was him laughing. Virgil laughed along with them, grabbing Roman's arm.

"Well, game's busted, Princey." He said. Roman laughed this time.

"I suppose you're right. Hey, who walked in first?"

"Ah, that would be Janus." Logan said, still not looking up at them. Virgil punched the air.

"I win! You owe me now."

"Hahahahah! Fine, fine. What do I owe?"

"You know."

Roman laughed. Without much hesitation, the pair leaned in, almost in sync. Their lips met in a kiss, confirming the theory Logan had been wondering about. 

"Haha! Gay!!"

Without parting, Virgil perfectly flipped off Remus in exactly his direction. 

#sanders sides secret santa 2020 #long post #prinxiety #secret dating #ts sides #submission

[lettalady]

So the ever amazing @incoherentrambler has uncovered an old something from 2015 that never got posted here and yea... since we’re getting Loki!Tom again it’s well past time to see this bit of fluff: 

Paint It Black

“You didn’t wash your hair this morning, did you?”

He’s not new to the dye-your-hair ritual but you ask regardless. If he says yes you’ll be able to scold him for the faux pas - have a tale to tell regarding meeting the esteemed Tom Hiddleston. 

No such luck.

“No,” he gives his head a shake, reaching up to touch the slightly longer ginger-blonde curls. 

You try to return his smile before busying yourself with preparations to hide your nerves, leaving him to settle into the waiting chair while you mix the bottle of dye. 

“May I ask you something?” 

You turn, being careful to keep your fingers over the cap to the bottle as you shake the mixture. “Yes--” 

He’s got his legs splayed out, his feet still touching the floor on either side of the footrest. Not a distracting way to sit at all. “I’ve noticed that my hair has been growing in darker since I’ve begun to dye it for roles.” 

“Hmm.” You tip your head to the sheet draped over the armchair of the seat beside him. “Might want to put that on or we’ll end up getting dye on that white t-shirt, too. And that does happen. Let it grow a bit, let the sun bleach it and you’ll be -- what -- blonde again?” 

He shrugs, not taking his eyes off you. “It’s just a shirt.” 

“And your neck?” 

He chuckles as you uncap the bottle and approach him, “Just skin.” After a pause he adds, “Should be concerned about the color my hair is going to turn?” 

You shake your head, motioning for him to spin around to face the mirror so you can work. “Raven,” you reply once he has turned the chair, “just as they ordered. Goodbye, ginger curls.” Applying the dye takes a little time as you’re trying to dye his hair, not the man himself. He holds incredibly still throughout, despite chattering. 

Somehow he’s gotten onto the subject of his favorite movie -- The Jungle Book. Had you asked him something about it or had he just offered up the information? When he starts to hum you flick his ear, then quickly reach over to grab a cloth and remove the glob of dye that you’d transferred from your glove. “No wiggling. You were doing so well.” 

He arches an eyebrow at you using his reflection in the mirror, “I could say the same.” 

Flirting with Tom Hiddleston isn’t wise, but it is ever so hard to resist doing. He’s a natural flirt, and to be honest, so are you. You shrug, “I’ll style your hair to hide it till it washes off -- aaaaaand if they notice I’ll swear you refused the cover and then wouldn’t hold still.” 

“Traitor. Trickster.” 

“No,” you counter, “That’s you. God of Mischief. Now watch for drips while I throw away these gloves. I -- shit -- tore a hole…” 

You scowl at the deep purple-black dyed finger, revealed as you peel the glove off. It is your pointer finger -- coated from nail to knuckle. At least the dye hadn’t spread all the way through the glove. Right now you just look like you need to amputate a single digit. Scrubbing at the dyed finger is rather pointless, since you’ll be needing to wash the color from his hair after a few minutes. 

“It’ll come off, right?” 

You turn at Tom’s concerned tone to find he has spun the chair around and is halfway to standing. “Ah! Sit.” You wave your hand at him to indicate the chair, then focus on your hand itself once more. “Yes. In a few days. Until then…” You shrug at him, “Hazard of the job.” 

Tom spins the chair around while you busy yourself cleaning up the mess of containers. You wonder briefly how they keep him stationary for makeup. “So -- favorite scene?” 

“What?” 

“In The Jungle Book.” 

“Oh.” You toss the bottles into their proper bins before leaning back against the counter next to the sink. He’ll need to scoot that ever-so-talented ass over here to let you wash the dye out. Free scalp massage during rinsing, all for the price of a dye job. “Let’s see -- anything with Shere Khan. And Kaa. Oh the vultures, too. And King…”

He’s laughing. 

“...Louie. Let me guess -- it’s a scene with Baloo the bear for you. Already know you know the words to Bare Necessities.” 

Tom grins and ghrugs, swiveling the chair back and forth on its stand. “Guilty as charged. But I want to know yours. You rattle off the characters well enough, but do you know the songs?” 

Uh oh. You can see where this is headed. Hesitantly you reply, “Suuuuuuure.” 

“Prove it. You mentioned the vultures. Sing That’s What Friends Are For.” 

“Sung by four. You planning on singing harmonies? I know you like to multitask but---” 

“Another, then.” 

He won’t let up until you sing something. You settle for the ending song, simple melody enough. “‘Til I’m grown, ‘til I’m grown / I must go to fetch the water / ‘Til the day that I am grown.” You give him a nod. You’re no circus bear -- a term he has used to describe himself before, “Good enough?” 

Still grinning triumphant, he nods. “My turn, then?” 

You shake your head, pointing to the empty chair just before the sink. “Hair first. Then we’ll see.” 

He gives you a wink as he stands, “I can multitask, remember…” and then proceeds to hum and walk to the beat of Bare Necessities. He’s still humming when he leans back in the chair and you turn the water on, but the moment you start to rinse the dye from his hair the humming stops and turns into a moan. 

You hover your hands in the running water, watching him blink his eyes open. “You -- you ok there?” 

His eyes find yours, his cheeks tinging pink as he clears his throat. “Yes. Yes. Ahem.” 

The moment you start again the same noise escapes him, deepening the flush and causing it to expand to coat his throat as well. You don’t pause this time, “You have a weakness, it seems.” 

He lets out another laugh before clearing his throat and closing his eyes once more, a silent signal to carry on. It isn’t an uncommon thing -- some people just have a thing for scalp massages. Since you have to make sure you don’t leave his scalp tinged an inhuman color, this is going to be an interesting next few minutes -- with Tom making noises of pleasure that threaten to make your legs to jelly. 

You tighten up your core and start repeating a mantra within your head to battle against his occasional moan. Self-control. Self-control. You possess self-control. Biting your bottom lip also helps, though your brain quickly turns the action against you -- leading you down the path of: is he a biter? 

To his credit, he is trying to stifle the noises -- somewhat. 

Miraculously the water starts to run clear before you end up a puddle of goo on the floor. Thankfully the towels are on the shelf just within reach. You’re pretty damned sure that if the occasion called for it you wouldn’t be able to make it across the room at the moment. While Tom has his head ducked under the towel to rub the excess water away -- and probably gather himself together -- you take time to do the same. You lean and grip the edge of the sink, bowing your head to focus on the cool surface greeting your palms. 

Deep breaths. Deeeeeeeep breaths. 

And then comes Tom’s chuckle, “Now who has a weakness.” 

#imagine tom hiddleston

[paradife-loft]

Hi! I absolutely love the meta about NMJ's Empathy memories being unreliable, and it's got me wondering about how his qi deviation and death actually went. Since LXC says he saw the qi deviation (and Fatal Journey says it was in public), what's your take on how JGY got NMJ into his secret room so he and Xue Yang could use the Tiger Seal (and eventually kill him)? Fatal Journey has the Nie sect holding a funeral for him, so presumably NHS had /soneone's/ body to bury, but then in The Untamed LXC later says something like he 'hasn't heard from' NMJ in years and had feared the worst, so things... don't seem to add up? What do you think?

Aaah, okay, so: first off, I’m incredibly sorry it’s taken me so long to answer this, and I nonetheless  very much appreciate your interest in my opinions here <3 If you’re still hanging around/following me/reading my blog, anon, idk how obvious it’s been that I’ve… not been having the best few months brain-wise, but that’s basically all I can offer as an excuse for why this reply is coming so late. Thank you for your patience!

So, okay, I think I’m going to try and tackle this question from a couple different angles. First of all, I think it’s worth looking at the material provided in the contained story of the 50 episodes of The Untamed on its own, to see what that suggests, before bringing in outside or supplemental sources, which is what for this purpose I’d consider spin-off movies, details in other versions of the broader MDZS story material, etc. to be. Also, I want to note upfront that while I do tend to incorporate different details and versions of events from both CQL and MDZS into my personal headcanon, what I write in my fic, etc. because I think they tend to provide interesting possibilities, elaborations, and what-ifs for a broader composite MDZS-adaptation-universe – for the purposes of this post, I’m going to stick to material from The Untamed and Fatal Journey only. Mostly, my reason for that is that there’s a few logistically distinct details of how the qi deviation happens in MDZS compared to CQL – one being, it happens at Qinghe rather than Lanling – that I believe affect the timeline of what Jin Guangyao is doing with Nie Mingjue’s corpse in the first place.

Alright so, in The Untamed alone, the evidence such as we have includes: the Empathy sequence involving the qi deviation in episode 41, and Lan Xichen’s statement in episode 39 recounting that he saw it happen himself at Jinlintai, and that after hearing nothing from/about Nie Mingjue since, he’s been “mentally prepared” - presumably, for the news that he’s dead. What I’m inclined to take from those two pieces of information, is essentially a story like this: NMJ qi deviates, very publically, and at some point while this is happening, he makes a break for it and leaves Jinlintai, and whatever presumably messy trail he leaves in the process ends up going cold for anyone trying to follow, with no NMJ around to be seen. With various factors at Jinlintai invested in retrieving him for attempting to turn him into a controllable fierce corpse, it’s pretty easy to imagine that, besides whatever above-board search party tried to follow him, there would also have been another party closely watching his movements for an opportune moment to slip in and scoop him up to bring him back to the secret treasure room for fierce corpse experimentation – hence why the trail would’ve gone cold.

Now, the actual scene showing the qi deviation itself doesn’t include multiple elements I’m positing or including here – specifically, the presence of a bunch of third parties actually witnessing it, LXC included, and then also the idea that NMJ ever left that one landing at the top of the stairs during the qi deviation at all. But, since we see in other parts of the Empathy sequence that the events shown can be… a bit more impressionistic than accurate; and furthermore since it seems reasonable to posit that the memories of the time when he has a literal break with reality might be even less literally reliable than the rest of them – I think those aspects can be reasonably explained away as that scene portraying more of what the qi deviation felt like from the inside, than what an outside observer would’ve seen. Nie Mingjue’s focus is Jin Guangyao, so Jin Guangyao is all he sees – up until Nie Huaisang breaks through that monomaniacal focus and is seen, finally, as himself.

(If you particularly want to pull out some feelings, I might even suggest the idea that finally seeing a distraught NHS was the thing that pulled NMJ sufficiently out of his rage to be lucid enough to flee – and that he booked it in part because he was terrified and ashamed to possibly hurt his younger brother, whether physically or emotionally by letting him see NMJ in such an awful state.

So then, aside from that: the question of what we see in Fatal Journey. I’ve actually been trying to find an answer about what kinds of mourning customs would be followed or even possible if a family didn’t actually have their loved one’s body on hand to bury, but thusfar my internet searching hasn’t really gotten me any useful information one way or another – if anyone reading has an idea or some good sources to point me to, I’d love to hear them! Everything I’ve read so far seems to very tightly marry the performance of appropriate rites and the presence of a body together.

That said, looking back through the actual funeral scene in Fatal Journey, I also wasn’t able to notice the presence of a coffin anywhere in the set, either? We see a memorial tablet, set up in the front of the throne room at Qinghe, and what looks like a brief shot of some offerings, and NHS stoking the fire, but in the couple brief scenes of the inside of the hall, I don’t think there was a coffin set up there? (Or, for that matter, out in the courtyard which we get a longer look at, either.) Compared to what I at least assume is a coffin with Jin Zixuan’s body inside during the mourning scene in episode 32, I feel like it’s reasonable to guess that, even with Fatal Journey included, whatever mourning rites took place at Qinghe after NMJ’s death, they may simply have not involved a body or a burial at all.

- And actually, now that I’m thinking about it, taking Fatal Journey into consideration overall suggests that it might ultimately be the norm at Qinghe to hold mourning rites without a body present – because per the lore additions in the movie, the Nie sect leaders go down to die on their own at the bottom of the saber tomb, and it sure doesn’t look like anybody had been going down there to retrieve them once they did? So, I don’t know, maybe there’s some sort of symbolic burial of something associated with the sect leader as a Nie custom, to keep things looking a bit more normal and less “we build a tomb for these resentment-filled blade spirits that eat our sect leader’s sanity”, and that’s also what ended up being done for Nie Mingjue?  But, yeah, there’s no real confirmation happening even in the movie that NHS was able to come back with a body to bury, so I don’t think that necessarily contradicts the idea that NMJ could have gone missing during his qi deviation and never been properly recovered for a 100% confirmed death.

(That said, I personally don’t tend to incorporate, oh, most of the specific events or points of lore from Fatal Journey into my own readings on various elements of the story? Like, quite frankly, I don’t really like the movie that much, and I think it opens up a lot more unnecessary character and worldbuilding questions without doing a good job of integrating them back into the rest of The Untamed’s continuity (er, such as it exists XD). So I don’t necessarily have an opinion on whether “the Nie sect generally doesn’t do bodily burials of is clan leaders” is an idea anyone should pick up for The Untamed canon; merely that if you do take the events of Fatal Journey as canon, it certainly seems like it could be a possibility.)

(And again, big, big big disclaimer here that, e.g. if holding any kind of mourning rites without a body present is actually super Not Done, then what I’m saying with this part might be totally moot, and then well…. who knows, there’s plenty of speculation that could be used to cover that gap up – maybe “they never found the body” wasn’t actually widespread knowledge, but rather just information LXC had special access to due to the relationships he had with the people involved? – and some set of people depending on your preferences conspired to get another body to stand in for NMJ’s to allow them to hold a funeral? ….Which honestly sounds incredibly sketchy to me on its own, but considering all the other professionally Yikes-style desecrations of bodies that happen in this story…. who knows? I’m really just tossing out ideas here at this point, not saying I necessarily endorse any of them outside of “I think this could potentially work in some way without being out of character for anybody”.)

Anyway… I hope that answers your question, anon, and is otherwise interesting for everyone else reading? Thank you for the ask, and apologies again for taking so long to respond! <3

#ask a James #meta #no good things for the poor sad cultivators #The Untamed #Nie Mingjue #rambling #op #Anonymous

[buck-nialled]

Mr. Lawyer (2) - N. Horan Imagine

thanks so much for everybody’s support on “Mr. Lawyer”! after a whopping FIVE requests for a part two were sent to me, i felt it was only right for the story to continue and (maybe?) end on a happier note ? who knows ?? guess you’ll have to read and find out. here it is, part 2 of “Mr. Lawyer”

It had been a total of one week since her fight with Niall and due to her “failure of having an established online presence” (Y/N thinks of it more as an accomplishment) she had been named “Mystery Woman” by every celebrity gossip site that acquired the photos. In her younger years, Y/N never pursued the idea of posting “candid” photos portraying some nonexistent life she had seen most people claim to have. It was never in her disposition to be in the spotlight, something which her 24-year-old self was grateful for. It helped her maintain her confidence and focus on other aspects of her personal life like her work.

 Another thing she had taken for granted in her time of ignorance was the age of her boss, who was wise enough in her years to not seek out entertainment news on her television and guiltily watch it, and also take notice in how Y/N displayed herself in the office.

Her boss sought for people like her, Y/N discovered through an email her boss sent replying to the girl’s sudden ask of a week off due to “personal reasons” she would rather not explain but clued an injury in her excuse. Despite the vagueness of the plead, her boss commended her honesty and work ethic when giving her approval. Needless to say, the conversation concluded much better than the girl had imagined, and made her spirits lift somewhat. But the seven days of solitude were hard. On the first day, she woke up with her cheeks tight from dried tears and runny mascara. The swollen ankle complemented the look and also helped Y/N confirm that the night prior did indeed happen. She wasted the day on her couch with a bottle of wine, replaying the memories until they all became fuzzy and blended like that of a fever-dream one could not wake up from.

Day two was where she began questioning why it was so important for Niall to keep his identity such a secret. She remembers his answers to her that night, still. She could hear every twinge hitting his heart as he spoke his apology and gave his reasoning. Looking at all of the photos of both of them on her phone was unnecessary when her brain held every moment for her. The picture Niall took of her in a white button-down of his, panties just peeking out beneath and his mid-calf socks sagging down her ankles at she posed with one of his few very nicely made guitars. When they spent Christmas early at his house and exchanged gifts and kisses under a mistletoe, the camera on her phone caught glass-encased records Y/N never thought to mention, let alone paid any mind to.

She remembers a particular morning waking up to the sound of Niall humming a particular melody she secretly recorded solely because of how angelic the notes sounded with the water pattering against the porcelain to harmonize with it. She could not clear it from her head for the rest of the day and, upon bringing it up to him later on, Y/N recalls the shrug and innocent smile he gave when he told her he “made it up.”

By the end of the night, she was blaming herself for not seeing the signs sooner.

On the fourth day, she discovers that the photos of the debacle could not hide from everybody. Her mother called her that day to scold her, saying she had to find out what her own daughter’s boyfriend looked like through a Facebook post. When the expected questioning of why she was on the cover of a magazine at a grocery store was asked, Y/N lost all answers for herself and hung up the phone with a meek excuse to “explain later.”

The following day, her friend begins texting her incessantly with an update on why she thought Niall looked so familiar when she sent a photo to her a few days ago. At first, Y/N could only chuckle and shake her head, riposting if her friend had gotten in trouble with the law recently. Her friend sent a question mark back and went on to say she does not remember where she saw him. Now she was sending links to his music videos she happened to stumble upon that morning.

It was painful, but she watched them. She bought his album with little regret and listened to every single song, and then kept the most somber one she could find on repeat until her phone ran out of battery.

The week flew by fast, but Y/N could not say she was not thankful. She felt it was a sign of the world that her sulking was over. That morning, she felt that a regular at-home cup of coffee would not do and decided to start the week off right with her usual at the small café near her apartment. It felt like déjà vu walking through the door and hearing the small bell lightly tinkle above her. She was stood in line for five minutes, wearing a tee-shirt of another oldies band her little cousin would decree “vintage” when a tap arrived unannounced to her shoulder. She spun around, and the man behind her sent a kind smile and compliment her clothing shirt. Though the accent was still distinct, it was all too similar and had Y/N’s heart beating faster.

He was unbridled in his advances, asking what would seem like too soon to a watchful stranger if she was single. Normally, at seven in the morning on a Saturday (coffee or not), she would be firm in her stance and spew an answer out with no hesitation and regrets. But Y/N would be lying through her teeth to say that it went that way. It went quite the opposite actually and ended with Y/N stumbling over her words and managing to sputter out how her situation was “complicated.” It was so unlike her to answer even she was unsure of and left the girl asking herself in her spot if she had been sucked into a different dimension that night her love life all went to shit.

The man somehow convinced her to spare a few more minutes of her time as the two waited for their drinks after ordering. She composed her thoughts and better explained then that she had just broken it off with someone. She was going to mention that the “breaking it off” part might be temporary but was still jammed on where she stood with the situation. Hell, Niall had not made any form of contact with her since that night, so how is she to know if he is finding himself in the same place?

“I understand completely. Sorry if I was a bit forward back there, it’s just…”

“No, it is okay I get it. And if I weren’t so conflicted with things right now, I would probably say yes to date with you, but—”

Then, Y/N was floored as the man before her began to laugh. It was a combination of hysterics and a bit obnoxious in its tone, which left Y/n with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, no.” He held his hand up to her. “Do not get the wrong idea…”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, I am already with somebody.” Once again, her forehead creased, and she was befuddled. “I am asking for a friend. He is kind of in the slumps at the moment because of this girl…it kind of sounds like you and him are in the same boat. I’ve been trying to see if any of my friends were up for meeting the guy and help him get over her—”

“By a one-night stand with a stranger,” She scoffs, disbelief now coating her face. “I hate to break it to you, but that is not how you mourn a relationship.” Y/N rolls her eyes and begins to pivot to see how much progress had been made on her drink.

“No, no! It is not like that at all, trust me! I just…I feel like just meeting somebody would take his mind off of it. Even if it does not go anywhere, the lad could use another friend. Especially one who understands what he is going through at the moment. And Y/N, you’re ticking every single box right now!

“What do you mean?” She spins around to face him. “As far as I know the only thing we have in common is our relationship status.”

“I happen to know he loves classic rock, specifical bands such as these.” One of his hands rise to the sleeve of your shirt and pinches the cloth, giving it a small tug.

“That all?”

“Well, you’re both pretty stubborn, too.” He murmurs. Y/N raises her eyebrows and sends a scoff in his direction. Before a biting comment could slip from you, your name was called. The man stayed nearby as you met the barista at the register for your total. As she reached for her pocket, she lets a few swears out beneath her breath from the absence of her wallet. The man notices this and swoops in immediately with his card in his hand.

“I got it—"

“No, forget about it.” Y/N interjects, turning to him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I do actually.” He hands the barista his card before you could reject his offer once again. “Because you’re gonna do something for me.” He says, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as he pockets his card back into his wallet.

“Excuse me?” “Look, I’ll be having a get together at my house this weekend. Nothing big, just a few mates of mine coming over. But my friend is going to be there, so you need to come so I can introduce you.”

“Why would I agree to that?” Your hand wraps around the warm cup and brings it up to your chest.

“Because you seem like an honest gal. Someone who would return a favor and keep her word.” The compliment was sincere as far as she could tell. A few moments of silence fell between the two, and Y/N found her eyes bouncing between two-floor tiles in contemplation.

“This guy? Would…would you say he’s an honest person?” She was hesitant in her question, but the idea kept captivating her. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew tonight would be no different than the last seven. She would still hear Niall’s laugh echoing in her head, and images of him flashing through her dreams in her sleep. None of the old methods she resorted to in college are working for her anymore.

“He’s the most truthful person I know.” Y/N looked up into the man’s gray eyes, swimming with hope. She wanted to feel like that again.

“What’s your name?”

“Lewis…Capaldi.” He answers. Y/N nods at the new information.

“Okay Lewis…” she proffers her free hand to him. “I’ll meet him. This one night only.”

“That’s all he’ll need, I swear.” Lewis exchanges his phone number with her, and without any further questions, they departed.

By the weekend, Y/N was finding herself flooded in regrets. She felt like she was betraying Niall in some way, despite no clear definition being set on their relationship since their quarrel. Tears were pricking her eyes on her drive to Lewis’s house at the thoughts of how hypocritical she was being. Not even two weeks ago had she blamed her boyfriend for not being honest and hiding from her, and here she was driving to a stranger’s house to meet a potential partner.

She knew that the information of Niall doing the same would make her ballistic with heartbreak. Even more, than she was feeling at this current point in time. Why in the world did she think this would be a good idea? She was only minutes away from Lewis’s front door when she hurriedly pulled over to the nearest gas station. Her hands were choking the steering wheel with strength so great her knuckles were becoming pale. Her heart was pacing erratically and felt uncontrollable. Screams were trying to crawl their way out of her throat, but she was determined to keep pushing them down with each nervous gulp. 

She had not felt this panicked since she excused herself to the restroom at the dinner place. She remembers the counter’s hard edge left deep, red lines in her palms from how hard she was gripping them, and she had to continuously throw her head back for fifteen minutes to keep the tears balancing in her eyelids from trickling down her face.

Maintaining her breathing was difficult, and almost seemed impossible when Lewis began ringing her cellphone. Her eyes locked on the small clock on the radio. She was nearly fifteen minutes late to a get-together she promised to be present at.

She answered the call, shaky hands, and a lump in her throat. She could only hope Lewis would do most of the talking throughout the call.

“Hey, you’re still coming over right?” He sounded urgent.

“Yeah...well—actually maybe not.” Y/N squeaked out in her shaky breaths. Lewis’s “what” was demanding and gave her the feeling of a child disappointing a parent.

“It’s just—I feel so…this doesn’t seem like a good idea, Lewis. I mean, I haven’t even spoken to the guy and he probably doesn’t even know I’m coming over.”

“Of course, he doesn’t! If I told him he wouldn’t have agreed to come over. But he’s starting to cave…been trying to call this girl all night and we’ve had to check on him and keep him distracted. You need to come over, please Y/N! We made a deal! Please, just five minutes. That’s all I’m askin’ of ya.”

Y/N bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. In her haste of guilt and impulsive movements, she ended the call with Lewis and tossed her phone into the passenger seat. Her hand reached to clutch the stick and her phone began vibrating again. It was face-up, illuminating the car with a photo of Niall’s face.

Her hand reached over and declined the call.

She put the car in reverse.

The fourth ring was interrupted with the sound of a voice asking to leave a message. Niall muttered a small “fuck it.” He rose from the couch, refusing to pay attention to the football match displayed on the large television his other friends were entranced in. His figure meandered into the kitchen silently, where he found Lewis glancing down to his phone.

“Hey man, I think I’m going to head out—”

“What?” Lewis looked up from his face, observing Niall’s uninterested expression. “No, come on lad, you got to stay longer. I just…ordered pizza!” His downtrodden mood did not keep a small chuckle from leaving Niall.

“Okay…I can come next weekend for pizza. I just don’t feel well, tonight.”

“Look, lad. I know some girl broke your heart but if she turned you down then clearly she was not worth it.”

“No, she was. She still is.” Niall claims, a stern tone overcoming his voice as his blue eyes pierce into Lewis, the mild irritation in them becoming apparent. They drop a few moments later, along with his hard expression softening. “I was an idiot.”

“Okay, I know that was not right of me to say since I do not know what happened. But you just…you have to stay. Just a little longer.”

“Why? What’s so important?”

“A friend is coming over that I want you to meet.” Lewis blurts. Niall absorbs his words, and also takes in the sheepish smile adorning Lewis’s face. Niall’s hand comes up to rub over his features as a sigh leaves him.

“Why…why would you—"

“Because you two are almost exactly alike. There are so many things you have in common.”

“Well, I had a lot of things in common with Y/N too,” Niall states, growing more frustrated by the second.

“I know, but…hang on. What’s her name?”

“Y/N,” Niall repeats, his heart sinking as her name fell off his tongue again. He missed how it felt good when he said it. A light knock on the door breaks the two away from the conversation, but both men meet each other’s eyes with knowing looks.

“Great! Absolutely fuckin’ wonderful. Tell me, what is so great about this girl, huh? Does she know almost every Springsteen song by heart? Can she recite scenes from awful movies verbatim? Will she agree to go out with me for six months only to end it because I lied to her about my entire fuckin’ life because I was a selfish, judgmental bastard? Tell me, is she gonna forgive me for it? Because that’d be the only difference between her and Y/N. And I’m gonna bet right now, whoever is behind that door won’t come fuckin’ close!”

“Niall—”

“In fact, let���s go see this bird! What brilliant girl did you bring for me to shut down, tonight hmm?” Niall strolled over to the door and swung it open, to see Y/N, her mouth agape and eyes wide. Lewis lived in a safe neighborhood, with beautifully constructed houses. But Niall knows the door is not soundproof and Y/N must have heard every single word.

“You mean that?” Her nose flared, and tears brimmed her eyes. It would have been painful for Niall to witness, but the way her lips curled up and her eyes brightened when she continued to gaze at him was the only tell he needed to know they were droplets of joy falling from her eyes. All Niall could muster was a nod, still in shock that she was stood in front of him. After regaining his composure, he cleared his throat, now gravely from his previous volume level he had not planned on reaching with Lewis tonight.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I was—”

“I love you, idiot.”

“What?” Niall’s brows furrowed at her response. And his answer came in the form of her arms locking behind his neck and drawing his head down for their lips to finally connect. He was an idiot. But if Lewis’s words were true, he was as honest as idiots come. And how could she let that go?

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 4 Part 4

Hello, once again, another piece of Midnight Striga for your reading pleasure!! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!!

With a grunt of exhaustion, Boscha crashed to the floor. The spar had dragged on just long enough to make her and the demon long for rest without them actually needing it. While it may not have been the nightmare she had been dreading when she saw Luz’s smile, it was certainly its own kind of hell. ‘But,’ she mused, a small grin forming, ‘At least I’m starting to make real progress.’ She slowly traced a circle, free of the instability that seemed to plague every spell she formed lately, a small flame forming in front of her. She chuckled to herself at the irony.

Here she was, captain of the Grudgby team, Fire Magic Specialist and Potionist in Training, and she was reduced to the most basic spells she knew of. The fact that she could even get this little flame, no bigger than her thumbs pressed together, without worry was a vast improvement over where she started after that day. She sighed, hauling herself to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Luz pouring over that strange crystal thing she had brought in; it was sort of like a Scroll, apparently, not that Boscha understood how. Helping the so-called Demon King to his feet, they wandered back over to Luz.

“Ahem!” Boscha cleared her throat, prompting Luz to throw up her arms in shock, suddenly scrambling to secure her… Terminal, she called it? “So, how did we do?” She said calmly, raising a brow as Luz sheepishly chuckled.

“As much as it pains me to be in agreement with the interloper,” King began, prompting a tick-mark of annoyance from Boscha, “I too wish to know just how impressive I am, and how I can become even greater!!” It took a lot of effort for Boscha not to yell at the little menace for the ‘interloper’ comment, it’s not like she intended to come here!

“Now King,” Luz lightly admonished, “A ruler must be gracious to their guests, even unexpected ones. While you may not be comfortable with Boscha’s presence, and understandably irritated from your earlier encounter, that must not influence your behavior and judgement. A King looks after his Kingdom, and all who dwell within it.” Boscha honestly expected the pompous little demon to start screaming at that, so she was genuinely surprised that he only grumbled slightly and kicked at the ground. “If you apologize for being rude, and say it like you mean it, I’ll get you some snacks later.”

“Hmm… Deal!” King agreed. He turned to Boscha and visibly pulled himself up to his full height. “As the King of Demons, I offer my sincerest apologies for my conduct. Will you accept it?” Boscha had to admit, he certainly sounded sincere. She figured he wasn’t, but it was still impressive.

“I accept your apologies… your majesty.” Boscha said, only reluctantly tacking on the last bit at Luz’s expectant look. How was she so good at getting under Boscha’s skin?

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Luz drawled, a too-pleased look on her face. “Let’s take a look at what you can work on.” Boscha and King both made inquisitive noises as she turned the screen of the Terminal towards them, eyes widening as they saw their fight lay across the screen. It was something you could see on any Scroll, but this certainly cemented the fact that Humans had some analog to the communications device.

An image appeared, Boscha launching some rocks that had cracked off the ceiling in response to King’s first spell like Grudgby balls. She remembered the stinging sensation in her hands at that stunt, but the sight of King frantically dancing out of the way on screen brought a tiny smile to her face. “Boscha, you displayed some solid tactics, not instantly going for your magic and using your environment to attack with you. However,” She let the video play, showing Boscha rapidly spinning up Spells to launch… only for them to detonate and send her flying back, King sprawled on the floor in laughter at her expression. “Your muscle memories for Spell Casting, while ordinarily a useful trait for combat if you can avoid overly recognizable patterns, are hindering you while you’re recovering your skill.” Luz finished.

Luz turned to King, who straightened up with a gulp. She narrowed her eyes. “Now, on to King.” She turned back to the Terminal, tapping away rapidly before pulling up some new scenes from their spar, King nervously ringing his paws. Another video popped up, showing King launching his spell towards Boscha, thankfully without any sound coming through. The on-screen Boscha avoided the massive spell by the skin of her teeth, Boscha’s ears ringing in sympathy at her memory. She grinned at the sight of King panting after his spell ended, only to yelp and run as her on-screen double rushed him in anger. “King, I’m gonna be blunt, your magic is powerful, but it’s incredibly draining, and the fact you are totally still while using it means that when the spell ends, you are basically defenseless.” King sheepishly kicked his feet, glancing to the side, while Luz looked on.

Luz cracked again. “I got to say, I’m impressed.” She chuckled at the dumbfounded looks she received. “I’m serious, the two of you did way better than I thought you would.”

“Well, how did you think we’d do?” King tentatively asked.

“I expected you to exhaust yourself inside of a few minutes blasting away at Boscha,” Luz bluntly replied, steam-rolling past his squawk of outrage, “and I expected Boscha to lose focus and just keep trying to cast spells.” Boscha would’ve been offended, but that honestly sounded like something she would’ve done if she hadn’t gotten that demonstration of how powerful the demon’s spell was. Luz smirked. “There isn’t a whole lot I can do to help right now, but in the long run, I think I can sketch out some training regimes to cover your respective weak spots.”

Boscha and King exchanged glances, then nodded. It made sense to them. With that settled, the three decided to head back upstairs. Boscha idly wondered why Luz had the hesitant look in her eyes when she said there wasn’t much she could do, though.

Luz groaned internally, resisting the urge to slam her head against the nearest wall. She was absolutely certain that the debriefing she had gone through with Boscha and King had been a disaster. She had visually confirmed how haphazardly they had gone about things in their spar, even if they had been smarter about it than she thought they would be going in, and had basically admitted that she had thought they would’ve been brain-dead rookies only to be proven wrong! Why had she agreed to taking that job!? Oh, right, because it gave her a way to help people and covertly undermine an undoubtedly corrupt regime starting with the youth; curse her bleeding heart!

As she gathered up the assorted snacks and drinks, making care to remember to grab the treats she had promised King, she wandered out of the Kitchen. As she entered the backroom the group was using to discuss things while Eda got her rest, she was surprised to see Boscha and King laughing about something like old buddies. She spoke up, bemused. “Well, don’t you two look chummy.”

“Oh-hohoho My Titan! Luz! Boscha just told me the funniest story about a Slingshot, a Stink Potion, anda Coven Guard!” King cackled, pounding on the table as he laughed.

“Oh, really? Now this I got to hear.” Luz mused, setting the assorted drinks and snacks on the table. Half a minute later, she was pounding her fist on the table right beside King, tears of uncontrolled laughter gushing down her face. Boscha looked painfully smug at the reaction her story had gotten. “Pffff! W-W-With the Gu-guard! A-And the B-bom-b! And the Cheese!! How you did all that and didn’t get caught, I will never know!!”

“Yeah! I didn’t get caught! That’s what happened!” Boscha sheepishly chuckled, deciding against telling them she had to be bailed out by her parents for that stunt. At least it was funny, though.

As the group enjoyed the treats Luz had brought back, Luz let out a sigh of content. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” Boscha mused, feeling relaxed after the… drama from before. “Not what I expected from the Owl Lady’s place.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” King queried. Luz was just as lost. Eda’s reputation wasn’t that bad, was it?

Boscha blinked, puzzled. “Wait, are you saying that you guys don’t know?” She said, something like shocked awe in her voice.

“Know what, Boscha.” Luz droned.

“Well…” Boscha drawled, still shocked at their lack of knowledge on the topic. “When it comes to the Owl Lady, rumors have always been flying around.”

King snorted. “Trust me, we know. We live with her, remember?”

“As I was saying.” Boscha enunciated tightly after being cut off. Her voice dropped into a deeper, more… mysterious sounding register. “Years ago, a Witch studied at Hexside who was gifted beyond compare. Considered a once in a lifetime prodigy, her skill at learning magic, using it, and her sheer power were without equal in her age group, even outclassing some adults. Her name was Edalyn Clawthorne.”

Luz and King paused, allowing themselves to sink into the story. They had to admit, some of what Boscha was saying lined up with Eda, ability wise at least.

“However, despite her incredible gifts, Eda was a maverick,” Boscha continued. “She openly held rules and order in contempt, and sneered at those who upheld them. Still, she was desired by the Covens, all vying for her incredible gifts, even those outside of her chosen track wanting to tap into her great power for their own agendas. Such attention made her arrogant, believing she was above the constraints of others.”

Luz and King deadpanned; while it was phrased more harshly than the reality, that was definitely Eda being described.

“One day, during tryouts for the Covens, particularly for a spot in the Emperor’s personal Coven, Edalyn boldly and publicly denounced the Coven System, proclaiming it beneath her. The crowd was shocked, unable to comprehend such a thing. As she walked away, smug in her superiority, she collapsed in pain.”

Luz and King leaned in, paying close attention to the details.

“Before the gaze of the crowd, Edalyn’s body twisted, growing in size. Feathers sprouted from her arms, her hands and feet twisting into sharp talons. Her body warped into an Avian form, sprouting wings large and powerful enough to hold her aloft. Her eyes became as dark as night, drinking in even the brightest of lights. Her jaw warped to accommodate a mountain of jagged fangs. She had become the Owl Beast.” Boscha paused, with Luz and King gasping in shock at the tale.

Clearing her throat and taking a drink, Boscha continued. “As the transformation ended, the monstrous beast was beheld by the crowd, and found to be repulsive, a monster. The crowd jeered, and chased the beast into the woods, it’s haunting cries echoing through the town. Eventually, Edalyn returned, and proclaimed herself a Wild Witch, and an enemy of the Covens. The Emperor’s Coven declared her transformation a punishment from the Titan for defying the system, making her to be an example. And thus, the Owl Lady was born.” Boscha finished, voice returning to normal. She leaned back, adding, “And ever since then, she’s basically been used as a scary story by parents to warn their kids about the dangers of pride and going against the system.” 

Boscha shrugged. “I mean, I never really believed the story, not any more than any of the other kids, but it was still a big thing to learn about, and a lot of the more free-spirited kids growing up got less outspoken after hearing her story.” She paused, scratching her chin in thought. “It probably makes it more believable that she lives outside of town and regularly shows up and causes trouble. Seeing someone described as a once-in-a-lifetime prodigy reduced to a crazy old bat, no offense,” She quickly raised her hands placatingly at an angry King and Luz, “probably made a lot of kids treat the warning more seriously.”

Luz froze, not entirely sure how to process this. King was stock still, glancing at his pauses in confusion. Clearing her throat, Luz spoke up. “Well, that was certainly entertaining, I’ll admit, but how does anyone know she actually-”

“HOOOOOTTTTT!!”

Luz abruptly cut off at the sound of Hooty’s pained scream. The three glanced at each other, before quickly rushing out the door. As they crashed into the Living Room, they froze in horror. The place was ripped apart, the couch shredded, the assorted piles of random junk strewn about, Hooty’s door knocked off its hinges with Hooty himself out cold. Claw marks covered the walls.

The three scanned the room, stomachs filling with dread. As they wandered the room, Luz took stock of the damage; whatever had caused this either wasn’t very high on the intelligence level, or was insanely scared and angry. King crawled over to Hooty, sniffing at him, feeling a surprising degree of relief at the sound of his breathing. Boscha positioned herself in the center of the room, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Just as she was about to speak up, Boscha stilled, feeling hot, heavy breathing across the back of her neck.

With trepidation, Boscha slowly turned around, blanching at the sight behind her. A large, feathery body, twice as tall as she was. Long heavy wings pressed tight against its sides, but doubtless capable of spreading to full length in an instant. Deep pools of darkness where its eyes would be. A jaw filled with jagged fangs. Boscha screamed. The beast roared. Its claws slashed down towards the panicked witch.

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