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soraviie · 1 year

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he's a friend of a friend.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: don't know, neither this nor that ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: yes f2l is cool but have you ever wondered about the precarious drop of a friend of friends? Strangeness mixed with knowing, seeing and talking in passing, wondering maybe you should speak more. Maybe nothing would happen but what if. What if.

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: All he quite discerns of the matter right now, is that his hands are clammy. Namjoon comes to stand in the empty doorway, momentarily glimpsing at your back, before uttering -

"'Sup."

Those...those were not the words he meant to say. You glance over your shoulder, meeting the long-limbed figure with a tired, polite smile.

"'Sup," you take back and Namjoon slowly comes to stand near you. The hot summer air has chilled into a warm evening and the cicadas are yowling in full spring while the rest of your friends are sitting around the campfire, swapping stories and laughter. You were washing away the dishes in silence. He wonders why.

"You need any help?" he asks, hoping you'll agree, hoping you'll toss him a bone to wield as an excuse.

"Ah, you can dry the washed ones if you want," the tone of your voice leaves much to discover. Maybe because he doesn't truly know you. A friend of a friend is not a stranger but also not family. An awkward gamble played between two social roles, tugged perfectly in the middle. Not friends, not strangers. Acquaintances.

"So, how have you been?" he questions further.

In the silence, the only sound is the rhythmic ticking of the clock and he feels that signifies the divide between who he wants to be and who he is. But what does he want to be? To you, that is. Slyly, he peeks at you from the corner of his eye. Your lips, your brows furrowed in a wrinkle of concentration. He quickly turns away. Namjoon doesn't know what he wants. All he knows is that lately whenever you came into his mind, he felt...fuzzy, for lack of a better term. And in spite of also lacking free time, he had clawed tooth and nail to be in this gathering of friends. Especially after you affirmed you'd be here.

"Eh, same old, same old," you laugh, cavillous. "Working away. You?"

"Same," he chuckles but with hardly any humour.

"You must be tired," you reckon with a hum and he takes the plate out of your outstretched hand.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're sulking when you think no one's looking," you explain, in your own mind, wondering whether you're breaching some invisible boundaries. Maybe he didn't want to be reminded of that.

"Are you looking?"

"I just notice."

The plate smashes against the kitchen tile and the atmosphere eases. Though Namjoon is not happier because of it.

"I'll get the broom," you laugh, looking at the broken ceramic and taking a step away. "I thought they were overestimating your...capabilities."

"No, no, they've been correctly estimated," demurely, he scratches behind his ear. You've been watching him. Have you then seen him watching you as well?

When the plate is disposed of, with a promise to act dumb when questioned about its absence, Namjoon lingers at the bottom of the stairs as you go up the rented guest house. Retiring early for the night, you said.

"Wait, I'm gonna rest too," he calls out and bounds up the steps to where you were standing.

"There are spare pillows in my room," you offer conversationally, trailing next to each other. It's weird. But good weird, you think. "You want some?"

Namjoon decides he needs an exorcism for the flash of impure thoughts briefly running through his mind. And despite having two very good pillows on his own, he agrees. Taking a seat on your bed is...it makes something inside him tingle and shiver. He's on entirely new territory, eager to explore but scared of being shot at from a proverbial bow.

"How long will you be staying?" he inquires. He's full of questions when it comes to you.

"Not quite sure," you reply. "I was offered a new job. Here. And I don't know what to do about it."

Namjoon's head snaps upwards. Moving. Here. Permanent. Geographical moving also meant you'd move into a much closer tight-knit circle of friends he met on the regular basis. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, his heart is hammering.

“You want to gather thoughts together?”

YOONGI: Ask anyone and they wouldn't dare to even presume this would happen. And you do mean anyone - a medium, a priest, a prophet, all of the above - no one could possibly see this coming.

Min Yoongi, The Min Yoongi, was in the same zoom call as you. Out of respect and also due to the fact that you hardly knew the man, your gaze was kept solely on your notepad. An open page sits there beneath your hand, diligently receiving the inked words. Monday. Away. Shane. Cordially. Bastard.

But damn did he look good.

Although you hoped to all of higher power, he remembered nothing of last year. Recalling your life’s greatest humiliation, you want to smash this keyboard against your skull and knock yourself out. Although that doesn’t happen. More so to simply not draw any more attention. If you were a truly outstanding person this year, karma could repay you and make you invisible.

You stumbled through the front door of your friend's home with perhaps a minuscule amount of leisure and free-mouthedness one would deem too much for an upstanding citizen.

The scorching sun had finally sunk beneath the horizon and eager to wash away both the torrid heat and the annoying work call thrust in the middle of your vacation, you'd been perhaps too liberal with the liquor but you meant no harm.

You truly did mean no harm.

"Whose the little guy?" you tossed a hand towards the stranger standing at the bottom of the stairs. When he turned around, you squinted and went Occam's razor on the situation. Which one was more probable - you were drunk during your vacation or a renowned idol and producer of a world-famous k-pop group, Min Yoongi, was sipping a milkshake out of your own personal mug?

"As if," you laughed out loud and then promptly passed out on the couch, face smushed into the fabric in what could only be described as an expression that could only be made within a fever dream.

Turns out the truth was stranger than fiction. A fact you were reaffirmed many, many times as you'd spent the rest of the vacation absolutely stunned at the revelation that one of your friends was bosom pals with a superstar. The same superstar whose first impression of you was…that. Safe to say you’d evaded him like the plague for the rest of the trip.

“______________,” a friend calls out over the line and you jerk at the sound of your name. Thank God Yoongi was not looking, far too preoccupied with his phone. “Are you coming?”

“Eh, I don’t know,” you drawl. “Because I have to be at work longer than you do, I won’t be able to drive with you and, to be honest, taking a solo trip in the mountains? No, thank you. I'm not made to fight wilder beasts. I bruise like a peach.”

Just then your phone dings with a message from an unknown number.

I can pick you up.

You frown at the screen.

It’s Yoongi.

A pause. Somehow transmitting the awkwardness through the endless void of digital silence.

Suga of BTS?

“I’ve got a work thing, give me a second,” you lie without blinking, turning off both the camera and microphone.

Smooth

Yes, I know who you are

Both messages arrived on the respective phones simultaneously.

Well, as I said I can pick you up. I won’t be able to make it on time as well.

Right. Or wrong. Or perhaps merely...confusing.

Why would you do that?

Is there something wrong with doing "that?"

For every response, he seems to have a question, and for every question a rebuttal. You don't yet know whether that's something to be enjoyed or annoyed by. He doesn't give you time to ponder, anyhow.

Turn on your camera, Sae is asking for you

Before your brain can wholly grasp the situation, your fingers already brush up against the buttons on the keyboard and you're forced to stare at your own dumb-founded expression.

For a second, you meet Yoongi's gaze through the monitor. He seems to be in deep thought...or perhaps hungry. You don't know him, that's the problem. But maybe you can get to know him, or you simply won't. A hitched ride will remain only that, with no further bound expressions of familiarity. When you glance at Yoongi again, his head is faced downwards, fingers numbly scrolling up and down. As if he was still in the text conversation, flicking through it solely to appear busy.

"Oh, please, come," Sae pleads. "It's been so long since you hung out with us. You and Yoongi are practically tied to your jobs. Oh, please, please, please!"

We'll just both have to endure it T-T

You didn't peg him for a T-T type of guy. Min Yoongi turned out to be full of surprises. You do hope they're the good kind.

"Okay, I'll...find a way. To get there."

If Yoongi hears you omit his proposal, he doesn't display it in the slightest.

Text me where and when, comes his succinct order and both the conversation and the zoom call appear to end there, leaving you leaning back into the chair and wondering how he even got your number. Just then, in a manner both alarming and yet characteristic, the last ding lights up your phone like a lighthouse in the dark.

If you're wondering how I got your number, I asked Sae :)

JIN: Arguably you've known him for a very long time. So long in fact many friends had faded and new ones had the time to appear. However, you've never known him so driving by three ads of his face plastered presumptuously across the marble high rises of elite society doesn't garner much reaction or interest. Even when you stumble upon his ad whilst flicking through anything to numb your mind for the evening, you watch it but don't obsess over it. But you do watch it.

Some of his ads are fun, that's all.

"He's shy," your friend had tiptoed to whisper in your ear as you pointed out that the guy nursing a glass of champagne awkwardly in the corner was in fact Kim Seokjin who had modelled a perfume you bought. "Please, don't bother him too much. People harass him too much as it is."

You could agree to that and hadn't bothered him too much or rather at all. Those very few times you spoke with Jin were in passing - between dinners of mutual friends or in the clumsy lingering pauses when you found yourselves the only two present in the room.

Which is why this was oh so suffocating. Pressed thigh against thigh, you had to squeeze between twenty other people to take a picture. He's a bridesman, you're a groomsmaid. A cliche with a twist. Like anyone needed those today.

It seems that you've amassed some bad karma as throughout the whole event, the word "squeezing" is etched into the forefront of your mind. Squeezing to get past someone, only to have Jin either in front or the back. Squeezing to push your chairs closer as the rowdy migrating crowds flock to each other like birds during spring. Squeezing to get into the queue to congratulate the happy couple, squeezing to escape the many children, the annoying cousins, the inebriated uncles...

A wedding is a tight-packed event is the lesson to take home here.

Finally having escaped all the constrictions, fleshy or otherwise, you draw a heavy sigh of relief, shivering in the cold flowing from the swaying sea. Another friend married off, another ten questions of when will it be your turn. As if these prospects just announced themselves...

"Excuse me, may I join?"

You blink. For a second guided by fuzzy logic, you glimpse at the sky, pondering shouldn't a divine voice sound more intimidating and assertive but then you turn and find Jin standing some distance away. Even in the dark, you could spot his thumbs twiddling, riddled with anxiety.

"Sure," courteous, you reply. Jin traverses the sand, slightly wobbling from left to right. Drawing a heavy sigh of relief, he drops to the ground as though all the strings that kept him upward were abruptly cut all at once.

Deafening is the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline.

For a lingering second, Jin gazes at the dark horizon, before nuzzling against his knees.

"I'm sorry," he mutters all of a sudden and you frown at his statement. "You're...you're the only other person I know here, so I clung to you the entire day. Must have been annoying."

"It's okay," you brush off. "I get it."

Silence settles once more.

"Why are you not out there?" demurely, he hums, throwing a head back to the pulsating, multi-coloured shell of a guest house trembling with bibulous celebration. "You're usually front and centre at these kinds of things."

Despite finding it strange that he knew such detail, you keep the confusion behind your teeth.

"I'm not feeling it," you shrug, also shrinking into yourself as the chill of the night soaks through the sand. "Work has been really tough and my went missing-" realizing that you were speaking to him as a friend, you stopped. "Nevermind, you don't have to hear it."

"It's okay," he echoes, casting you a soft, empathetic smile, permed curls flitting in the faint breeze pushing grey clouds in an out of the moon's glow. People weren't lying, he really was handsome even if both his nose and ears had gone exceedingly pink.

Wind rushes through the air and with it carries the unmistakable stench of alcohol.

"Are you drunk?" flatly, you state and he rocks back and forth, sporting a supposedly innocent expression.

"A bit," he puts two fingers together. "Needed some courage."

"Alright," you drawl, rising to stand and he glimpses up at you. He doesn't at all seem intimidating as his fame made it seem. "Let's get you to bed before you'll get the idea to go ass bare into the ocean."

He embraces your offered hand with an offended pout.

Trailing up the narrow path to the guest house, you begin to tremble and immediately feel a jacket draped on your shoulders. Jin was looking away when you glanced at him in question.

"We should meet more often," he mutters near incoherently, entirely fixated on the ocean, though in the soft glow of the outdoor lighting you can spot that his eyes ever so slightly travel your way.

HOSEOK: Warily you glimpse at the blank hallways that stretch around you like a maze, littered with doors leading nowhere. You're going to die in here. Get lost and starve to death.

"__________?"

Hearing the questioning lilt of that voice, you shrink into yourself and wonder if it'd be feasible in any sort of way to pretend you can't hear him. But he draws a bold dash across your hopes with a single casual sentence.

"Hey, __________!"

Turning around, you clutch the water bottle like a shield. Hoseok struts towards you, his manager trailing behind. They exchange a few words and the other man slides past you with a polite, yet curt nod of the head.

"Hello, Mr Jung," your eyes naturally flit to anywhere, fucking anywhere, but the blinding smile spreading across his lips.

"Ah, ___________, still so official," he complains. You're not quite sure if there's a sentiment behind those words or if it's just something he thinks he needs to say. Regardless, you're much too intimidated to delve into it and as such count your prayers to get out of there as fast as possible.

After a stilted pause during which you can't force yourself to speak, he at last wonders out loud.

"What brings you here?"

Travel. Vacation. Hoseok-less promised vacation that Nall promised you'd have.

"You can see the Bean!" you remember her saying. "Lounge around in a hotel! Wander the Windy City!"

"What about your BFF?"

She had only thrown a hand at your concerns.

"Hoseok and I will be busy working through the routine," she scoffed. "We won't have time to hang out."

Maybe they won't but Nall could forget her water and whine for food, which meant you had to fetch both at the end of the day. Fetch both and run into Hoseok.

"Ah, Nall brought me along," you scratch at your nape, catching a whiff of the jumper's sleeve. Yeah, this was definitely not of the first freshness. "And she forgot her food and water, so I'm here to deliver it."

You jingle the bag as if to prove yourself. Hoseok laughs at that.

"Sorry," he sputters, pushing a palm in front of his mouth. "It just sounds like she's your puppy."

You smirk ungainly with him.

"I'll bring you to her," Hoseok drawls, feet turning back. "She's still in the practice room."

"Thank you," quietly you bid, shuffling next to him. At first, he seems bouncy but the longer you walk, the more you notice the way his shoulders slump. The darks under his eyes.

"Are you...nervous about your performance?"

He laughs again, but to your ears, it sounds forced. Quite a lot forced.

"I'm excited," he reiterates but for some reason, you persist.

"They don't cancel each other."

Hoseok was never your friend, mostly due to your own blame but how was it possible to ever not feel...cheap beside him. Your clothes, your hair, your likes, your days, everything about it was normal and he was decidedly not so. You were simply on two different levels and the way to bring them together was to exit from the game altogether. Nall sometimes remarked that he would ask about you but those times were usually in passing. This hasn't happened before. You never met him alone.

"Suppose they don't," he mutters, briefly appearing much more sullen, almost sunken. A shell. "It's just very..." he huffs a short breath full of wordless frustration. "Overwhelming."

"Nall says you make it overwhelming," you mumble and his eyes snap at you, instantly making you avoid his gaze.

"What do you say? Honestly."

You think about it.

"I think that it doesn't much matter how your performance will turn out because you're not going to be satisfied by it anyhow."

Hoseok makes a low sound at the back of his throat, pushing his hands deep into his pockets.

"And what would you do?"

"I would..." you fall into silence as well. "I would actively disregard all critique. Push it to later, and for now, concentrate on just being in all of this," you gesture at the building, of course, meaning in actuality, the festival. Hobipalooza, as Twitter, coined it. "Trust yourself, trust your fans and remember that sometimes the moment for critique comes after something is done."

You almost want to add the cowardly "but that's just what I think". After all, what were you risking putting yourself out there? Nothing much, nothing deadly. Nothing that could compare to thousands of eyes starved to get nothing but perfection and ready to examine your every single movement in one of the most stressful moments of your life.

Now you can't help but feel silly giving such "advice". It wouldn't be too grand of a surprise to see Hoseok roll his eyes in annoyance but he wasn't. He was glaring at the floor. Abruptly he stops and you fret he's going to curse you out or cast a cold shoulder but he does none of that, instead pointing at a door you've halted by.

"She's there," he states quietly and you madly scramble to get away, only to freeze when Hoseok calls out your name. Again.

"Thank you," he offers a weak smile which you return and then turns on the heel, trailing away, wrenched in deep thought. You could tell even from the curve of his back. With a sigh, you open the doors and bring down the very thunders of judgment upon Nall's head. For making you endure this torture.

Leaving the studio, you both waddle with some speed, eager for fresh air.

"Dress comfortably on Sunday," she remarks casually, pushing open the entrance doors, whilst absent-mindedly chewing a piece of chicken. It bobbed in her left cheek. "Hoseok just texted to offer you a VIP pass."

JIMIN: Everyone had gone dead silent. Like others, you turn to examine the stranger but seeing the shrunken stature, agitated and unwillingly placed in a spotlight, you quickly turn to frown at the hotel carpet.

"You should have told us."

Naturally, Em is the first one to do the scolding, and on instinct, you scoff.

"Well, I told you I'd bring the needed plus one and here he is," feebly, Malia gestured at the masked man. Didn't do him much good as you all realized who he was in the whooping span of 35 seconds.

They squabble amongst themselves for a while, until the decision is laid on you, eyes turned to hear your judgment. You were the last domino, whatever side you swing on, that will bound to happen.

"We needed one person, he's here," numbly, you shrug. "Nothing more to it."

Em appears displeased as all hell. Her face contorted in an expression of thinly veiled resentment but you couldn't care less. She could hitchhike far away from your group if she hated to be here so bad.

"He will be recognized," she hissed in the corner, earning a dirty glare from Malia and some others. "And then we'll have to muck up the mess!"

You stop by your friend, giving her the entrusted document folder without a word. Though unspoken, she understood the "talk later" without ever needing extra clarification. The guy glued to her side, Jimin, meets your gaze and blinks slowly. A hesitant "thank you" comes from underneath his mask.

"No problem," you reply cooly and head out.

No, the rest of the crowd didn't much like Jimin, and Jimin didn't much like them either which meant that you were saddled with him. You were with Malia and she was with him. It was an indisputable package.

"So are you...together?" you ask her cautiously as you two were the last one's outside the tents, chatting absent-mindedly around a dwindling campfire. Immediately she stutters, a grimace seizing her features.

"What? No!" she cries out, seemingly scandalized beyond any belief that you would even suggest such a thing. "We're just friends. Nothing more."

"Then why did you bring him here?"

Her lips purse and she reaches to gruffly poke the cindering wood with a stick.

"I don't know..." she trailed off. "He's never had much of stuff like this. Normal stuff, you know, and one day I was raving on and on about what fun it is - the nature, you, everything - and he had this faraway look in his eye and I..." she sighed. "I felt bad. So I invited him to gift that sense of normalcy. If for a little."

Malia was always so kind-hearted. Whenever you began to feel like Jimin was all one of your best friends could see, you recalled her words, summoning each letter to the forefront of your mind and then letting the matter be. And it wasn't like Jimin was a heinous travel companion. Quite the opposite. He helped you out whenever he could, even without asking but the conversations you had were scarce, limited mostly to single words instead of sentences. But life is funny, though you don't think highly of her sense of humour.

"I'm sorry," the receptionist bid once again and you sag on your bag, drenched in ice and thoroughly drained. "All the rest of the rooms truly are full."

The math was simple and judging from the skirting glances passed around the lobby, everyone knows that. Two unlucky bastards would have to sleep in the campervan. And while you wouldn't have to share a bed, the space in that foul machinery was so small, you might as well have. Just thinking of the airless, claustrophobic space parked outside gives you a nauseating shiver, in spite of sensing in your heart, or the sixth sense, that it'd be just your luck to end up there. You draw matches.

Two losers.

You and Jimin.

Awkwardly you glance at each other before turning away. Malia loved Jimin and you like two siblings but even her gaze flitters somewhere around the wooden beams of the ceiling.

The dinner proceeds with lingering tension. You shower, partake heavily in the buffet, drink hot wine and just before lights out, miserably slump to the campervan. When you yank the doors, Jimin, who'd you not seen for some time, recoils as if shot. You cast him a tight-lipped smile only to halt in confusion.

"I...made a bed for you," he explains, shuffling to the side.

"I...Thank you. You're very kind."

Jimin smiles, brightly, broadly, so much that his eyes disappear into thin lines of happiness.

"You've gone completely red!" he cries out amidst peels of laughter, pointing incriminatingly at your face and immediately you find your gaze lowering. Escaping him.

"I'm glad my internal temperature amuses you," you drawl and he laughs harder.

TAEHYUNG: "Just trust me!"

"Ah, yes, the pinnacle of reliability. Yelling "trust me" after every two steps."

Jae casts a displeased side-eye at your grumbling figure, shivering like a stranded leaf in the wind. The loose clothing did little to protect you from the sudden onslaught of unwanted elements, and despite wholeheartedly agreeing with Jae to go to the snottiest brunch of all time, mostly for a change of scenery, it didn't hinder you in the slightest - from complaining your heart out that is.

"He should be here any moment," Jae mutters, jumping up and down from cold like a delirious flamingo.

"Why can't we just take a taxi?" you cry out when a punishing wind strikes your back.

"Because it's expensive! And besides," Jae began to erratically wave towards a stream of cars coming down the road. "He was driving around anyway."

"What for?"

"Says it clears his head."

By sitting in traffic? But before you could dispute it any further, a car does roll to the side of the street where you stood waiting. You had to admit it was a nice car, though you couldn't say much more than that. This was Jae's strangest of friends, bearing no name or workplace as far as you knew. You'd never understood why Jae, a reputable blabbermouth, felt the need to be so goddamn cryptic but the issue also didn't capture enough of your attention for you to pester him. You let it be. Currently facing the ominous darkness of two tinted windows, you swallowed. And maybe shuffled behind Jae to peer dubiously when the car doors opened.

"Hey man," Jae leant down, wearing a broad, dazzling smile. "Thanks for helping us out."

"No problem."

Bizarre, you could swear you knew that voice. Something about it tickled an acquainted nerve. Naturally, as you stood there wondering, Jae was already sticking a foot in the backdoor with no inhibition whatsoever. You attempted to follow him only to be shocked in stupor when Jae casually tossed out:

"Hey, can they sit in the front? Carsick traveller here."

"Of course."

As a form of retribution, you elbow him in the ribs, hard, and begrudgingly climb into the passenger seat, only to have your entire muscle system stiffen and ears ring as you fixate on anything but the driver.

You were positively going to rip Jae an entirely new set of holes.

"You don't mind some music, do you?" Kim Oh Christ Taehyung questions oh so considerate and Jae affirms that he doesn't. You can't even manage a stutter. Maybe if you don't look at him, he won't exist...

"So, __________, are you feeling better these days?"

Elegant. The goal is to sound elegant, put-together and most of all, n o n c h a l a n t.

You squeak a breathy, high-pitched laughter.

"What?"

Why not just unbuckle the seatbelt and drop yourself out on the road? Surely, would hurt less.

You hear Jae press his entire face into a seat to muffle his laughter.

"Oh," Kim The Fucking Taehyung, blinking at you, befuddled. "Jae was just saying that you'd been sick for some time."

You wither away with a smile. They'd been talking about you. Kim Taehyung knew about your cold. Why not?

"I'm fine now. Thank you for asking."

He nods, with a hum, then turns up the volume.

"Do you like this song?" he converses with ease you can only envy. Your cheeks burn and you find enough belief in your heart to pray that soon he won't be so friendly. You tune into the melody, before shaking your head.

"I haven't heard this one. Not my type probably."

"Oh," Kim Thee Taehyung deflates visibly by the wheel, rubbing the back of his neck with one palm. "It's my song."

You should have just stayed home. No, no, you should have just never woken up. Maybe you should have never been born.

"Oh," dully, you echo. "I mean it's a nice song! I just...listen to other genres."

Well, at least Jae finds this very amusing. The rest of the car ride is spent in relative silence, with only a few, well-meaning questions: where are you going? Do you need a ride home? Jae agrees but you think firmly to yourself that even walking back home would be a more viable option.

At last, Kim The Taehyung rolls up to the obnoxious brunch place Jae wanted to burn his funds through and faster than a bullet, you bend your head his way, squeak a mousy "thank you" and jump out of the car, wondering if somewhere amidst the pose you managed to flash him. Maybe you should just move. Like to Mars. Enrol in one of those space programs. Jae bids his friend, Kim The One and Only Taehyung, a warm goodbye, expressing his own gratitude for such help on this fine Saturday morning. Just before he leaves, Taehyung finds your gaze and waves.

"See you soon, _____________! You're funny."

JUNGKOOK: "Get your fucking stompers off my carpet!" you groan, the second you find that husk of a black dot, sprawled all over your furniture, a handful of chips reaching towards his mouth.

"So unhospitable," Jungkook tuts and you roll your eyes. If a year ago you would have questioned why a k-pop boy was snacking and watching your TV then right now it was just a part of a deeply harrowing weekly routine.

Kiya pokes her head through your open bedroom with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, we just needed a place to escape the paparazzi."

"And get pre-drinks," you note, sternly gazing at the various bottles littered all over your precious coffee table. Kiya can only laugh and disappear at that. With some amazement mixed with judgment you watch as Jungkook shovels the food into the bottomless pit that most people called mouth.

"Don't worry about it," Kiya huffed, blowing strands of her sweaty hair from her eyes. You dropped the box onto the floor of your empty apartment. Your own place. Who would have thought? But who also had the bright idea that they didn't need a moving agency! They could get on their own. Well, ten strangers later and you were still only halfway through. Bodies pressed against the narrow hallway, catching breath and mercy like they'd been through a war. All of them were friends of friends, with the last one running late. Kiya insisted that this guy would be your salvation, he could lift anything and was insanely competitive to also succeed or :

"Sprain an ankle trying!" Kiya laughed but you found no humour in her sentence. At last, a smooth and breathy voice greeted people around him by the entrance, and without wasting any time, the stranger perched your full-length mirror on his back, making his arduous way up the stairs.

"He's a madman," you gasped.

"He also accepts the payment in food, so we're going somewhere to eat later on," Kiya poked you by the side, gesturing to free the space for her atlas of a friend.

A year later, you bore just about the same opinion about Jungkook. The guy truly was a madman. But as annoying as he was, you still were thankful that he had hauled half of the furniture up two flights of stairs that day.

"So, Grumpy," he poked with his knee as you sat down. "You coming to my show?"

"Undecided."

"Oh, come on," he whined loudly and you glared at him, seeing some of the chips stain your precious sofa. "Just because you look like Grumpy The Dwarf, doesn't mean you have to act like him too."

You can't kill Korea's national pride, you repeat it like a mantra in your head. You can't kill Korea's national pride.

After a dizzying wave and a stupid row of giggles, Kiya and Jungkook waltz away from your home, leaving you sighing and exhausted on a Friday evening. Maybe you should have joined them...But the second you drown in more comfortable clothes, the thought of leaving dissipates from your mind.

As nameless movie drones in the background and the silence of the night is filled with the rhythmic chopping of your knife, you try to convince yourself that you're not lonely. You're striving, as they say. You're cruising through life, with a stable, clean home and a stable job. Many people had much less, you were lucky. But the crushing solitude, makes your fingers halt and suddenly you feel thoroughly appalled by the simple process of making yet another meal to eat with no company. Perhaps you should get a cat? Perhaps go straight to two?

A quiet rap by the door interrupts the ever-reliable routine and you cautiously paddle to see who'd come by your door, only to scream when a big eye reflects into your peephole.

"Oh, what do you want?" you berate him but there's something different about Jungkook. For one, he's red like a ripened tomato, and secondly, his expression was unexpectedly sincere.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," says he, swaying slightly and slurring his words. "You don't look like Grumpy the Dwarf. I meant to only tease but then I thought about it and it may have been a little rude."

"It's okay," you drawl in vague comfort as he guiltily scuffs the tip of his shoe against the ground. "Is that everything?"

"Yes! No!" he pouts in a frustrated manner. "I came to clean."

"To clean?"

Clearly disorientated he blunders into your home, squinting at the sofa.

"I made a mess here," he mumbled. "I ought to clean it. Where's the vacuum?" he began to spin around which foreseeably ended up with him kneeling on the floor, head caught between his trembling hands.

"Damn, this carousel is crazy," you hear him mutter to himself.

"I just think he doesn't quite know how to talk to you," Kiya, truly shockingly being the more sober one, reflects as Jungkook snores on the floor. Rolled to the side, courtesy provided by you. She'd barged in, deep in the throes of a crying frenzy, yelling that Jungkook was kidnapped and it was all her fault, and the Korean government will sentence her to death. Yet when the initial panic wore off and everyone's ride home was organised, she was once again the elegant, collected angel you'd known her as. Jungkook was...well, slumbering on your floor, blissfully unaware of the world around him.

You both sat around him, eating grapes and partaking in some much-needed late-night talk. "Like sometimes he tries to be really cool which comes off as aggravating. Despite being an idol, he's still human you know, and he wants to be liked."

Kiya takes a sip of her water, a picture definition of refined behaviour even if one of her lashes were hanging by her cheek.

"Why does he want to even talk to me?" you ponder, checking if he was still breathing. By the unflattering tractor sounds rising from his face, it was safe to assume yes.

"He thinks you're cool," she shrugs. "Hence why he tries to emulate that."

"And sorely fails," you shake your head at him and Jungkook stirs, blinking tearily at your figure. "You keep sleeping, honey. Don't worry about a thing."

Naturally, the sarcasm goes right above his head and with a polite, obedient nod, he's knocked out again.

When with some extreme difficulty, you manage to hurl him into the backseat of his company's car, he drunkenly grasps your palm into a handshake.

"Let's be friends, okay," he offers, barely stringing together any coherent sentence. Kiya glances at you, clearly guilt-tripping at this point but Jungkook wasn't a bad guy. At least, you didn't think so. Thus you shake his large and bizarrely soft hand and promise okay, you'll be friends.

He giggles at that, nose scrunching up in an expression of pure happiness.

Maybe he wasn't the coolest around you, but he wasn't a bad guy. Not even a bad friend, you reckon.

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kizukiapologist · 3 months

Text

The Appeal of Broken Things

Summary: Kyogai finds his solitary existence disrupted by a mysterious visitor who leaves behind heartfelt gifts and whispered words that echo through his ancient halls. Now he must decide between gaining back his rank or mulling the possibility of opening up to someone for the first time in centuries.

A/N: I thought it'd be fucking cute if Kyogai exchanged letters with a human, with his emotions spiraling into chaos as he starts developing feelings. Hence, this piece was born! Inspired by a human!Kyogai character sheet!!

WARNINGS: 18+ ❦ Eventual smut ❦ sick!reader ❦ artistic couple dynamic ❦ Dark romance ❦ Canon typical violence ❦ minor original characters because reader needs friends ❦ Part 1/3 ❦ AO3

III

The scent of human flesh fills his lungs. Someone has trespassed on his property yet again. Kyogai takes a deep breath. Well, at least this time it's not a total waste: it's a marechi. The blood scent becomes stronger as the drum demon moves through the hall. Sweet bordering on cloying, far too strong. Such a quality ought to be equivalent to devouring more than a hundred, no, even two hundred humans' worth.

When he steps into the room, he catches a glimpse of the marechi running away from his house through the sliding door she left ajar. Kyogai is about to jump after her when he notices the bunch of papers on the floor.

His sharp, demonic eyes scrutinize them: it is one of his stories. Shocked, Kyogai realizes there's a small note alongside it, written with paper from his desk and old ink. He picks it up, holding it carefully between black, pointy nails.

“Your story lightened my night like the fireflies at the river, glowing on my way home. Thank you."

That is enough to freeze him in place. When was the last time someone said something nearly kind about his writing? Perhaps more than two lifetimes. He stands there, staring at the note in astonishment for an instant before setting his sight on the forest, where he can still see her silhouette running in the distance.

Only half a heartbeat. That's all he needs to engulf her. However, for some reason beyond his comprehension, Kyogai lets her go. He looks at the little note again and rereads it. What- what did she mean by that?

It isn't until two weeks later that the same scent hits his nose. It comes again from the old writing room. Kyogai arrives in a drumbeat. The human hasn't entered his house, but he can see her silhouette through the thin paper of the sliding door as she opens it, casting a string of sunlight across the dark room. Kyogai holds his breath. Unsure of what to do, he remains as still as he can, bent in the darkest corner.

Falteringly, she sneaks a box wrapped in a handkerchief and places it on the floor. It has a red rose attached to it by a knot on the top. Her hand trembles slightly as she quickly pulls away. She moves afar, slower this time, staggering over the grass for what he can hear. Was she wounded? Kyogai cocks his head, senses attuned. Nothing smelled like spilled blood. Marechi blood—a fortune's worth.

His gaze descends upon the box, curiosity piqued, yet, he can only stare at it. Could this be a trap from Demon Slayers? It's a more likely possibility than a stranger simply being kind to someone they've never met.

Your story lightened my night like the fireflies at the river.

With a knot in his stomach, he motions forward. His sharp nails undo the top knot. Before opening the box, Kyogai contemplates the red rose between his fingers as if it’s something that shouldn’t exist there, and a sense inside him warns that such a delicate thing should never be meant for someone like him.

The bento box contains a few rice balls, wrapped in thick, green leaves and a few papers with beautiful illustrations of– Kyogai’s breath runs short: It’s his tale. These are illustrations from a story he wrote back in his human days. There’s a note attached to them.

“Your story inspired me to draw again! I hadn’t read something so touching in a while. I loved every bit of it. If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, could I read more of your work?

If your answer is yes, please put the story inside this box and leave it in front of the lateral door that I so rudely invaded that rainy day, and today. A friend of mine is a lumberjack by profession and works in the area. He will pass on our messages, since due to a certain physical condition it is difficult for me to go myself so often.

I say goodbye for now, grateful and waiting for your thoughtful response.”

The letter ends with a signature of her name, and Kyogai's breath runs so short he nearly chokes. A tickle takes over his chest. This is beyond absurd, he knows it and still- still his blood swirls in his stomach like it hasn’t done in centuries.

III

The drum demon has read the letter so many times that he unintentionally learned it by heart. His whole body flutters when a male human walks around the area, looking for a box that's never been there, not even once, and yet, he doesn't stop coming around. She must insist, Kyogai supposes. She must press for the man to keep returning, yearning as much as he does. But fear spreads through his veins faster than fondness, and he worries she'll hate the next thing she reads.

Kyogai notices miserably how much this short interaction means to him, to the extent that he's doing everything within his power to keep it from crumbling. Pathetic. Just as Muzan thinks of him. Just as his editor thought of him. Just as he is: disappointing, and unworthy.

His nails dig into his palms as he stands in his writing room, drawing blood. With a final glance at the dying rose over the desk, Kyogai calls himself back to reality. He ought to stop wasting time on this. He needs to be stronger. Wasn't his wish to once again belong to the demonic moon corps? Hurry, hurry, hurry. He needs to devour this Marechi the next time she comes around. This dream of writing is trash.

Your story inspired me to draw again!

Trash?

I hadn’t read something so touching in a while.

No.

The editor was mistaken, it wasn’t trash; at least not to her. The following morning, he watches from a safe spot in the dark halls of his house as the lumberjack takes the box with two stories for her.

III

"I liked your illustrations. The colors are accurate," you read.

The box rests on the futon beside you, open, with wild flowers peeking out on top of a bunch of handwritten papers.

“Wow, truly a writer worthy of admiration,” your friend Ren retorts, scoffing.

You gape, furrowing your brows, offended. “Shut up, he must be nervous.”

Ren gives you a teasing glance. “Right. Because you know him from reading his tales.”

"Of course! That's how I knew you were a rough, big-headed twink. The wood you bring has splintered edges. It's called deducing," you tell him, grinning. “Besides, you assured me that you would pass by without disturbing him, didn't you, Ren?”

“I did.”

You pull out the flowers before taking a deep breath of them, enjoying the aroma. “Mmm, see? No reason why he would be upset.”

“So nervous it is. Awkward maybe?” he adds, gazing at the small bouquet carefully put together.

You smile. “Yeah, that too.”

III

Kyogai contains the urge to throw himself into the side room as soon as the lumberjack's scent becomes present. The sun casts his shadow over the door as he approaches to place the box in front of it. Then, steps back, shielded by the morning rays as he runs back towards the forest. As soon as his scent dissipates slightly, Kyogai slides the door to retrieve the box, uncaring about the sun scorching his hands.

This time the illustrations are larger. Equally beautiful, delicate, and harmonious. The paper still retains some hints of her sweet fragrance. Sadly, the note accompanying them this time is a bit less extensive:

"My illustrations are only accurate because you do a great job of storytelling. I loved both stories, as much as the flowers. Thank you very much for trusting me to share your writings. The two drawings I sent try to summarize the story to provide a general idea of what they’re about. Do you like them? If so, it would be an honor if you decide to include them at the time of their publication.

I hope to hear from you soon, with affection,"

With affection, she wrote right before her name. With affection. For him? Kyogai’s stomach jumped. Demons don't have a beating heart, yet, he could swear his fluttered a beat. His writing has finally been recognized! Excited about that, and dizzy on the bits of her scent on the paper, he writes back.

III

"I wouldn't think of publishing them. I tried before, but they weren't well received. My editor said they lacked beauty and fragility. Time after time. I believed it for a while, so I preferred to stop trying... at least until now. I think you may have brought me hope.

P.S. I am glad you liked the flowers."

“Well, that’s something.” Ren says after you finish reading.

“Yes, something nice! And he sent more, look!”

You hold them in front of his face. He barely has a chance to take a look before you drive them to your nose, with a foolish smile on your face. “Oh, Ren, I want to meet him! Do you think it’s right for me to invite him over? Is it too soon? Do you think he’ll think I’m too daring?”

Ren laughed shortly, whole-heartedly. “Hey, take it easy. You don’t even know his name yet. Besides, your feet… they've been aching these days haven't they?”

Your gaze falls. “I’ve been feeling better. And I can ask his name on the next exchange of messages.” you retort.

Ren grimaces, “I don’t know… you’ve refused to consider all your mother’s suggestions on other prospects, and suddenly you want to give the first step for a man you’ve never seen?”

You take a deep breath, head falling back as you attempt to speak your mind correctly.

“I thought I was young enough to live a life of my own first. But now I’m already too old to be unmarried, and I haven’t received any proposals, not even for a date in a whole year. No one wants an old, malfunctioning woman as a wife,” you muttered.

Ren winced, struggling to phrase something comforting.

“I might not find a good prospect before my youth fades. I’m becoming a burden to my parents… but now, I have found someone who likes my art, and hasn’t said it's unfitting or nonsense, not even once. And he has sent flowers, twice!” You reach for his hand, tenderly taking it between yours. “Please support me on this.”

He squeezes your hand back, sighing. “We should buy a present for him. I shall deliver it along with your next letter. Some writing aid, maybe?”

You smile from ear to ear. “You’re my best friend, Ren! Thank you!”

III

It’s almost sunset when Kyogai smells the lumberjack at his door. This time, instead of leaving the box outside, he knocks. Kyogai tenses. He doesn’t respond. The human knocks again. Under different circumstances, the drum demon would not have hesitated to kill him for daring to disturb his home, for invading his territory. However, this time, Kyogai only listens.

"Sir, are you home?"

He remains silent. The human smells a little like her. That, for some reason, irritates him.

"I'll leave this here, with your permission."

Once the human leaves, he retrieves the box. Upon opening it, he finds a fairly large inkwell, as well as a new brush. He examines it with delicious surprise before opening the letter.

"Clearly, that editor lacked good judgment! I mustn't take the credit, however. It's not my opinion what makes you worthy, but yourself alone. Perhaps with time you'll gather the confidence to try again. I think it would be an excellent idea! Hope this little present is of help.

By the way, you know my name, but I don't know yours. I would love for you to tell me in person, if requesting such a thing isn’t unacceptable in your eyes. Would you like to come for tea tomorrow?

affectionately,"

Below her name was the detailed address of the house. His insides twisted and turned, devouring one another.

III

"The box is here," Ren's voice reaches you suddenly, hurried and agitated. "I didn't go get it, but it's here!"

He reaches where you are cutting vegetables, almost slipping. Behind him, his wife enters, with one hand on her belly and the other holding Teruco, their youngest of three children, soon to be four.

"Auntie, auntie," Ren's two children affectionately chirp. They come in right behind their mother. "Is it true you're going to get engaged soon?"

You can't evade the blush that quickly rises to your face. You look at your friend with a wry smile.

"I'm sorry, the word got out," he says, shrugging.

You look at the little ones with a smile. "If all goes well, maybe so. But keep it a secret, I don't want to scare him off before he even has a chance to come."

They exchange an amused glance.

"Now go play, and don't get into trouble. Your mother has enough with the baby on the way," you turn to her, "Hello, Saya. You didn't have to walk all the way here, I could have passed by your home."

"Don't be silly, we had to know the truth. You know how Ren is with gossip," she says, sitting down with her husband's help.

The man grimaces. They both laugh. Little Truco runs to catch up with her brothers.

"So, will you see him for the first time today?" Saya asks, once seated and comfortable.

"I hope so. I sent an invitation but-"

"You already have a response, or at least you should," says your friend, who pulls the box from inside his Yukata. "That's what I was trying to tell you. It was at the door! He must have brought it this time."

Your heart skips a beat. If he only sent the box, it couldn't be good. You take it with both hands before sitting down. The wood feels damp, and upon removing the lid, there are no flowers inside. Oh no. Maybe he saw you through the window and got discouraged. A lump forms in your throat, anticipating rejection.

After a deep breath, you read aloud:

"You are too kind. Although I appreciate the invitation, and I would like to attend, I will not be able to do so. I also suffer from a physical condition. It is a rare and not very pleasant disease to look at. Additionally, tea hurts me, as do some other foods. However, I would like to keep in touch, if that's okay with you.

Warm regards, Kyogai."

Your sigh is so heavy it's hard to let it out. An uncomfortable silence falls over the table.

"Why don't you go see him?" Saya probes. "They say love can blossom at first sight."

"Yes, it's true! I can lend you my horse."

"I don't know... Would it be proper to go without a chaperone? I don't know many people here to confide in, and I can't ask it of you, not with the baby's birth so near. Besides, what if he doesn't want to see me? I don't want to make him uncomfortable."

Ren looks away. His wife reaches out across the table to grasp your hand.

"Go. The chaperone thing doesn't matter. He'll probably prefer it that way. Besides, you can trust that we'll protect your reputation if anyone tries to start any negative rumors."

You squeeze her hand back. Your eyes well up. "Thank you."

III

"I don't think I could find you unpleasant even if I tried. I think you understand me well, and I think I can come to understand you too. I'll come to visit you soon. We can talk about whatever comes to mind! I'm very excited to meet you,

affectionately,"

There is a rose in the box again. He takes it as gently as he can. It has been a long time since Kyogai ceased being a human, but have women always been this bold? It doesn’t matter. The only remarkable thing here is that she seems determined to force her way into his world.

A decision needs to be made. Killing her would suffice to stop whatever nonsense this small affair has been. If a couple of letters not longer than a page can be called that. Letting her in... letting her in would mean that he’s a weak demon. Unworthy of the rank Muzan ripped him off, and he’ll have to hide from her sight, and be careful she doesn’t wander around too much. And surely she’ll ask for more of his work to read, and Kyogai doesn’t have anything interesting stored anymore.

Letting her in would mean she’d surely come around once, twice, and thrice again. Her scent would float around, brushing his nose with that exquisite fragrance of hers. And she’ll say something gentle and encouraging. And maybe, they’ll read to one another some of the books he hasn’t touched in decades. And perhaps, the drum house would become a bit warmer. And-

He stops. Shaking his head as he clenches his jaw. Shit, shit, shit. He shouldn’t want such a thing so bad.

#kny #kny kyogai #kny headcanons #kny fanfic #kny x reader #twelve kizuki #twelve demon moons #demon slayer #demon moons #kimetsu no yaiba #kny demon moons #12 kizuki #demon x human #kyogai #drum demon #tanjiro kamado #zenitsu agatsuma

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brittlebutch · 3 months

Text

Desperately trying to make sense of Alex's motivations in Season Two and you know, I do eventually have to wonder if maybe Alex wasn't actually lying in the majority of those tapes.

Like, we tend to assume that Alex's motivations have been a consistent throughline since the college years, but do we actually know that that's the case? Do we know for sure that Alex was acting in deliberate, calculated ways in 2006; or could it be that he's telling the Truth on those olds tapes when he says he's blacking out and can't remember what's happening to anyone? After all, if we're assuming that Season 2 Alex's motivations are the exact same as his motives in Season 3, then it doesn't make any sense at all that he spend months working with Jay to try to find Amy; Season 3 Alex would have attempted to kill Jay like, on sight just to get things over with as quickly as possible and contain the spread of contamination as best as he could.

But, maybe, if Alex really had been separated from Amy after the events of the 04-04-10 tape, and if he really doesn't know where she is, then maybe that could make things start to make more sense. Maybe he really had been watching Jay's channel, and seeing Jay start going through the same things he went through in college without things devolving into violence and disappearances, and wondered if things maybe could play out differently this time. Maybe he really did send that tape to Jay to ask him for help, maybe he really was just trying to find Amy.

But then, instead of actually being helpful, Jay makes it extremely clear that he's a lot more interested in stalking Alex than he is in finding Amy. Alex asked for help, and instead there's a bunch of masked dudes on Jay's heels that keep attacking him, Jay is breaking into his house, stealing his things, leading the Operator right to him all over again, keeps trying to get other people (namely: Jessica -- if Alex is being honest when he says that his call reassuring her that Amy had been found was an effort to make Sure she stayed away from everything that was happening) involved; and instead of anything getting better, instead of anyone finding Amy, things are just getting worse all over again.

It's not until after the incident at the tunnel that things seem to start rapidly devolving. Rather than a calculated attempt to finally follow through with his need to curb the spread of contamination, this is very clearly an outburst of rage and terror. Alex's "I told you not to follow me" line in conjunction with Jay speculating that Alex didn't know who that guy was, to me, pretty firmly seems to speak to Alex having mistaken that stranger for Jay. From his point of view, Alex knows that Jay and totheark know where he live, have broken in before, he suspects that Jay stole a key to make it easier to get into his house, and he's been followed on the daily for months -- Alex is sitting at the tunnel because he doesn't know where else he can go without being constantly surveilled, hunted, and assaulted. And instead of getting a moment by himself to breathe, Jay followed him out there all over again (it feels like Alex looks directly at the camera in Jay's footage of him from this day; he knew for a fact that Jay was there), and then to make matters worse now 'Jay' won't even keep his distance anymore.

So Alex lashes out. And it's not until afterwards that he looks down and finally recognizes that this wasn't Jay -- it was someone completely innocent. Things have finally reached the low point he was at in college all over again; maybe even worse this time. If Alex doesn't remember attacking anyone in college, but he was at least partially conscious of it this time, then things have reached an entirely new rock bottom, they've reached an absolute point of no return.

He has no idea what happened to Amy, and he's spent months trying to find her with no hint of where she could be; he doesn't know where Jay actually is or what additional trouble he could be causing at this point; he does know that now innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire (in regards to the stranger in the tunnel, and also Jessica now that Jay has her phone number, and the untold number of people Jay got involved when he started posting videos to the Marble Hornets channel); things are spiraling out of control and there's no one left to ask for help. The situation isn't getting better, it's getting worse; things aren't getting easier to handle, they're just getting more out of hand; the negative impact is spreading and who knows how much further it can still go?

So, Alex decides to go scorched earth. He disfigures the body with the rock either to hide evidence or to make sure the guy would actually stay dead and not just get back up to start his own cycle of contamination in a few years. He tries to give Jay one last chance to back off, and Jay instead admits he's been talking to Jessica, acts obstinate and lies about not having Alex's spare key, and then breaks into Alex's house a second time (minimum). If Alex doesn't stop him now, who will? Alex met with Jay planning to kill the others, and then himself, so he could put a stop to this once and for all and keep things from getting any worse than they already were.

Maybe it makes a lot more sense if, rather than being a strangely incomprehensible detour on what should have been a straight path, the events of Season Two were the breaking point that put Alex on that path to begin with.

#N posts stuff #idk!!! I've been thinking a lot lately about the tendency to take Characters at Face Value; when they tell us things we tend to #automatically believe them despite what evidence we might have to the contrary. & like when it comes to deciphering what #went down during the college film project it's mostly totheark that posits that Alex was Definitely Lying and Definitely Acting on Purpose #(even Jay is largely ambivalent - wondering which way it leans and basically saying it could go either way)#but. do we KNOW that they know that? Do we Know that they're Right when they claim that? Or are they just Assuming based off #of their own rage and animosity towards Alex due to what happened? Do we Know for Sure that Alex Was Lying in s1?#i don't know if we do!! And so without Knowing that for sure; how can we speak to Alex's motivations in season one OR season two?#now TO BE CLEAR: I am not saying this in an attempt to claim that Alex is somehow completely innocent of all guilt and that like.#Jay is the 'Real Antagonist' of the series - not at all my intention. this is just More of my usual 'look. Everyone in this series is #all kinds of Morally Grey; no recurring character in this series is free of guilt they ALL have unique fatal flaws & trends towards #antagonism that makes things worse and dooms them all' shtick - a la 'everyone Thinks they're doing the Right Thing but No One Is'#BUT i Am wondering if this Does help to like. clear up some of the ambiguity/uncertainty of Season Two - and even Season One - and #lets the series as a whole read a little bit clearer? idk i know that Jay does Claim to think that Alex was bullshitting him #the whole time & was Actually planning on tying up loose ends the whole time but AGAIN it doesn't make Sense he'd wait so long #idk - Am i making sense? does any of this track? i'm trying to figure it out; i am open to comments on the subject to help #i haven't rewatched season 3 yet today and so maybe there's stuff in there that contradicts this whole theory lmao but i'm taking a break #and just posting this anyway; we'll see what happens lol #marble hornets #mh lb

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tabletopmonsteroftheweek · 10 months

Note

Please link it if you've already done it, but I'd love to see your interpretation of a 'House of Leaves' or similar liminal space into a mystery. Specifically, the idea of a mundane space that goes on forever or infinitely repeats.

It's a lengthy book if you haven't already read it, but I'm sure there are plenty of youtube videos dissecting it. 'The Backrooms' is a diluted meme version of it, if you've heard of that.

You rule, and thank you for the years of great ideas and resources!

So i had not read House of Leaves, but it is on my bucketlist of "to-read" books when i have time. I'll try my best to make a spooky, liminal space phenomenon

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

Phenomenon: 495 North Boulevard

Type: Bubble (motive: to keep those that enter from leaving)

The strange one-story house seems to sit comfortably in this boulevard. No one remembers when it appeared, as all who lived there seemingly believe it's been there ever since they've moved in. Those that move into the home mysteriously vanish, and those that knew them forget they even existed- even their own parents and family members. Stranger still, no one knows who is even selling it, as those that gain possession of it do so by next to kin.

This quaint house starts normal at first, but after a week it will open up more of itself, opening up a doorway leading to a strange hallway.

The deeper the hunters go, the bleaker and darker the hallway and rooms become. The rooms become more hostile, and may even separate the hunters from each other.

Power:

Seemingly infinite structural generation

Insanity inducement

Isolation

Hallucination inducement

Constantly watching

Weakness: Documentation can be found within the Children's Room (listed below) if the hunters are able to find them, that the House had mistakenly forgotten to hide away. The documents were written by one of the previous tenants, one that thought it best to write down info of their expedition and leave the pages behind. In it is a map detailing a way through the dark maze that can reach a "key" that will allow the individual to leave.

In order to stop the House from taking more individuals, one must cause a circuit breaker fire. However, the hunters must find the key to escape before they do so, lest they find their demise within the fires themselves.

Custom Moves:

The Keeper gets to draw out how the house will be laid out before the start of the mystery. The vast majority of the rooms are blank and empty, with the deeper they delve the darker it gets. While they may decide how the house will be laid out, even past the Hallway, there are key rooms that must be in place:

The Circuit room: the room is usually the last the hunters will run into. It's a tight room similar to that of a laundry room. On the wall is the circuit breaker. Messing with it won't outright cause the fire, but hunters must roll +sharp to figure out how to set it up to do so. On a 10+, they can make it go on a timer so it'll break once they are safely out of the house. On a miss, it'll be on a timer, but it'll break midway through escaping. On a miss, it'll break immediately and they will have to escape right away... if they have the key that is.

Key room: the room looks like a closed garage- shelving with boxes on them, big red toolbox, a broken down car of unknown make, and other things. Smells like oil and grease. The key is located within the car, which is locked on the inside. The hunters have to open the car without setting the alarm off. If the alarm goes off, the House will proceed to have the next several rooms be misleading and fully attempt to separate the hunters from each other, even attempting to make them drop the Key. Hunters must roll Act Under Pressure to attempt opening the car.

Children's room: even without lights, the walls are brightly colored with crayon drawings made by that of a little kid. The carpet is soft, and there's a toy chest. The bed is small, made for a 5 or 6 year old, with old dolls and teddy bears resting on the dusty sheets. The closet is hard to open, as if something is blocking it. The smell in the room is that of rot. No roll is needed to open the closet- inside is that of skeletal remains of children, no older than 12. The toy box contains a few coloring books that detail drawings and writings from the previous children there, listing their misgivings and fears they experienced before their demise in the House.

Master Bedroom: A minimalistic room with only a dresser, a king sized bed, and a mirror. The mirror reflects nothing in the room. The flooring is hard. There is the smell of rot. Just like the children's room, the closet is hard to open, as it holds some of the skeletal remains of the adults... but not all. The bedroom has scratch marks, as if those trapped in it desperately wanted out.

Insanity inducement: Those that stay long in the winding halls of the House will feel themselves going mad. If a hunter feels something gnawing at the back of their heads, have them roll +sharp. On a 10+, they manage to stuff down the feeling and aren't affected by the insanity inducement. On a mix, they feel a little paranoid about the party. They feel like one of them might be conspiring against the other, or maybe they might be working with the House- they take -1 ongoing if they try to help out another hunter. On a miss, the house has given them temporary madness- they will actively work against the hunters interest. If a hunter says one thing, they will follow the opposite (example: one hunter wants to move forward, the insane hunter runs backwards). Can only be cured with a Use Magic roll, but they will have to continue rerolling after being cured to further prevent insanity.

Hallucination inducement: The hunters will see things in the corners of their eyes that are not truly there. To stave off these visions, have the hunters roll +sharp. On a 10+, they overcome the visions and will not have to reroll the rest of the mystery. On a mix, they overcome it temporarily- they will have -1 forward on any actions on what they perceive is real, but also can attempt to reroll... after a while anyways. On a miss, they truly believe what they see is real. They feel everything the hallucination does to them- use the Hallucination stat block below. They can be cured with a Use Magic roll, but even after curing they will have to reroll to permanently avoid the hallucinations.

The Hallucinations

These hallucinations do not actually hurt those that do not see them- they only harm those that do.

Type: Brute (Motive: to intimidate and attack)

Powers:

Can only be seen by those affected by hallucinations. Said hallucinations can look like whatever the keeper wants them to, especially if they tie into the Hunter's history.

Can phase through walls

Always hunting

Always watching

Hovers over other hunters or loved ones in an attempt to make the afflicted hurt them.

Harm: None

Weakness: Use Magic on the hunter affected by it can make it go away.

#monster of the week #motw #motw rpg #monster of the week rpg #monster idea #phenomena idea #phenomena stat block

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halfbit · 9 months

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the little things remind me that people have always been people, today i'm thinking about the fragments. the old pottery that survived, the little sculptures. on tumblr today i saw a post about a porcelain chicken. it was named sweetling, it was odd-looking, and would normally mean nothing to strangers or people in the distant future, but to this one household it had a name and a job. (to protect their sweet things).

when sites of ancient civilizations are excavated, we often find tools, everyday pottery, like bowls, or plates, and sometimes we find oddities. little sculptures, toys, things whose purpose we can only guess at. often, a religious or ceremonial value is assigned, but i wonder how many of those remnants were just little things. odd little things a family member made that made them laugh, an awkward sculpture that they kept in their house next to the bowls, as bowling, protector of the bowls. i wonder how many got broken when a child was at play, if they ever tried to repair this useless item that had a name only known to its carers. maybe some people grew attached, attached enough to take it with them when they left home, maybe they would have traveled far, maybe they would have somehow lost everything else that reminded them of home. i wonder if they were buried with a little useless item, of no meaning to anyone but themselves, i wonder if they've ever been found. if they've ever confused the future.

i wonder if bowling is in a museum somewhere, labelled as a child's toy, or unknown sculpture, with an unknown creator. i wonder if it is displayed next to bowls.

#◤ my writing #got a little bit of inspo so took advantage of that #have some more “little things in history” musings

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tokoyamisstuff · 11 months

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Sugar Shock Ch. 2

Hotaru Haganezuka x GN! Reader

Based on this comic by @yuki2sksksk.

Summary: No one - including Haganezuka himself - believed that he would ever get married, let alone be interested in it at all...

...that was until he met you, at least.

[Last Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

A/N: I personally don't like my writing in this chapter, idk why. Also it's not proofread.

Warnings: None.

Words: 1463

"Uh...maybe we should call for help?" a voice behind you asked their companion. "Doesn't the shopkeeper look awfully pale?"

"Yes, and they haven't spoken a single word since we started walking" the other person responded. "Not even when we asked questions or tried to make smalltalk. Creepy."

"Maybe they're just asocial."

You were currently guiding a duo of Demon Slayers to the hot springs, yet your mind was so obviously elsewhere that even those strangers were concerned by your behavior.

Staring straight forwards without any focus, you wouldn't even bid those two a look, let alone listen to their conversation.

It's been a week since Haganezuka's surprising confession, and even though you couldn't to think of anything else ever since, you were just as unable to find an answer to his proposal.

You cringed internally when you thought back to that moment: Haganezuka was rooted on spot right in front of you - closer than appropriate, to add to that - and in the most awkward silence. If Kanamori hadn't come home earlier than anticipated, you would have probably remained frozen forever.

Who knows what he thought at that moment...hopefully he didn't tell anyone, for it certainly looked like Haganezuka had spent the night or something, with the two of you all alone in your shop before the day had even started.

You shuddered a bit at the memory of your friend walking in on the two of you, only further startling the two swordsmiths behind. "I told ya! They've got fever chills or something!"

Ever since then you hadn't seen your odd admirer, and you began thinking that maybe he's mad that your answer is taking so long.

But hey, a decision like that should be well considered!

There's no need to rush, especially since the broken marriage of your own parents had affected you this much.

To be perfectly honest, the thought of Haganezuka of all people wanting to get married - much less to you - was a shocker.

Not that you thought him to be unfitting for marriage or anything, but you barely even knew him and the other way around. Also, the tad bit you did know was certainly concerning.

You have no shared past, no connection whatsoever. Never dated or even had a proper talk besides that one time in the forrest.

Goddamnnit, you don't even know what he looks like! Not like appearance matter, you were not superficial. But it's just such a basic thing to know about someone.

Well, apparently he likes you, right? He asked to marry you, after all. So he has to like you in some kind of way. But why that? And since when? How?!?

A deep sigh escaped your mouth, shoving the turmoil of unanswered questions in the back of your head for a sheer moment.

"Please follow that trail and you'll find a small house near the river" you instructed the two young men as you pointed to the left side of a parting way.

"Man, I really need to be more careful with my sword. I can't keep breaking it." Tzch, they could at least say 'thank you'. You closed your shop just to guide them here, after all.

Well, Demon Slayers sure are wacky characters sometimes. Always having their head in the clouds. To fight those things you probably need to have a screw or two loose.

Just when you were about to turn around and return to the main village, you overheared something.

"Ah, well at least you don't suffer the same fate as that Kamado boy." You immediately recognized that name - it was one of Haganezuka's few customers he once very vocal complained about. "His swordsmith is really scary and chases him around if he breaks his sword!"

Oh dear, your suitor really needs to overthink his actions and their consequences more often...

"Yeah, so I've heard. Must be tough for Kamado. What's that swordsmith's problem anyway? Going around berserk like a madman." That one you certainly agreed to a certain extend, as far as you know he's still a child after all.

Maybe you should talk about his behavior, to you he might listen, who knows?

You snorted at your line of thought, already thinking about scolding him as if you were an old married couple bantering each other.

As if you had that much of an influence on him...or do you?

"If his blade is so perfect, why did it break so easily? He's the one with the skill issue." Subconsciously balling your fist, you turned around and rushed towards the men who wouldn't even notice you were still there.

"Haha, maybe he's getting too old for this. Better retire already. That man is not fit for this type of work anymore."

Breathe, Y/N, don't do anything reckless...

"Please refrain yourselves from saying such things" you exhaled through gritted teeth as you placed a firm hand onto both of their shoulders.

"Slayers and swordsmiths need each other to make it work. Neither of them are more or less important", you preached to teach them some basic morals. "Everyone here works incredibly hard, so don't you dare belittle people who spend their entire lives in this village making weapons for your protection!"

"But-"

"But what?!"

You wanted to yell at them, but instead grumbled with a gruff voice, intimidating for your standards even. "You got the nerve to complain when you're not even Hashiras. I find this to be annoyingly pathetic."

Raising an irritated eyebrow at them was enough to scare them off, only a faint "We're very sorry!" audible when they ran as fast as they could.

Suits them right, you thought.

Haganezuka may be a bit blunt and had an issue with regulating his emotions, but you admired the passion he put into his work. He was certainly a good guy, and did not deserve to be belittled like that.

"Huh" you uttered to yourself, "I didn't mean to scare them off. But young people nowadays..."

A crackling noise startled you out of your pondering. It was the sound of a branch being stepped on, and soon enough you found the source.

"If you run now, consider your proposal rejected!" you called after a fleeing Haganezuka, who you had just caught spying on you from behind a tree.

How long has he even been there? Goddamn, this man has zero social skills...

"Haganezuka, please...I need to ask you this: Why me? How long have you-"

"...because- you're distracting." The swordsmith had his back turned to you as he answered out of a whim, but not that it mattered. With the mask on you couldn't decipher his emotions either way.

Now what's that supposed to mean?! Should you knock some sense into him?

"I don't know since when, but you've been keeping my mind occupied."

Those words had escaped his mouth faster than his mind could catch up on, and ultimatively the usually rather quiet man began speaking from the bottom of his heart.

"In the morning I wake up and think about how you would have risen earlier to open your store. When I go for lunch, I wonder what you have to eat. When I see kids eating sweets, I think about how you probably gave them away for free. When I go to sleep, I imagine you already prepared for another day as you get ready for bed."

He paused, and even through the sounds of nature you could hear his fastened pants underneath the mask.

"Even when I am working on my swords, I still think about you." Something like that had never happened to him, that something is equally - no, more important than his work.

"It's so irritating and annoying. I wanted to stop thinking about you for so long already, but I never could. Then I thought, I might as well just get it done and confess to you. Get it all off my chest."

"I expected you to reject me right away..." His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally turned around. "But then you didn't respond, and told me to let you think about this."

Haganezuka's voice was clearly shaking, and he was stumbling across his own words. "Do you know what that did to me? That you didn't outright reject someone like me, and now even defend me from being insulted?!"

Your eyes widened as the man built himself up in front of you, raising his blistered hand to the mask covering up his face to tear it away just a second later.

He...had incredibly kind eyes.

Not at all what you had expected him to look like, but certainly a handsome man.

Long raven hair cascaded over his shoulders, accentuating the sharp edges of his face. His furrowed brows were more fitting for someone like him, almost making you laugh if the situation wasn't so severe.

And - is Haganezuka really blushing right now?!

"You gave me hope" the man now spoke with a calm voice, in huge contrast to the almost desperate expression plastered on his face.

"So now take a good look at how this hope affected me - the hope that I can make you mine."

#demon slayer #kny #hotaru haganezuka #haganezuka / reader #haganezuka / you #self insert #writing #fanfiction

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allthewhumpygoodness · 1 year

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Idk why now in particular, but I'm really feeling whumpees getting beaten to a pulp.

As a final punishment before the whumper decides they're no longer "fun" or of use. In an attempt to get them to give up information - or as a threat to their friends. As a public warning to others not to disobey/try to take on those in charge. In a random attack, a mugging or robbery or attempted murder.

Because the whumpee is somehow undesirable or known to be someone often mocked within the community. Because they dared to challenge the wrong people and needed to be taught a lesson. Because they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Either they stumble back to whatever passes for their home - to treat their wounds on their own in private, or to be worriedly cared for by others - or they're left for dead in their bruised and bloodied state, barely conscious and waiting, waiting for anyone to find them.

In a dark, rain-slicked alleyway. Tied up/restrained in the cold. Left dumped on somebody's doorstep. Out in a remote rural field somewhere.

They recover quickly but painfully; aided by a group of friends who thought this might happen, who have been waiting in dread for somebody to catch on to their doings and try to break them down. Hushed voices within a secret hideout, warm blankets around trembling shoulders, gritted teeth as broken bones are reset, swollen and blackened eyes still bright with determination as they attempt at a new plan.

They recover slowly but steadily; in the care of strangers. Scared flinching and quick, wheezing breaths as they're examined, not sure if they're being touched by friends or foes. Waking up in unfamiliar beds. Nightmares.

They recover alone; huddled in their dingy bathroom pressing alcohol wipes to open cuts, muffled whimpers and silent tears. Not enough bandages, but not enough energy to leave the house to buy more. Taking as much medicine as they dare, uncertain of the proper dose. Sleeping until afternoon, so sore they lie in bed for hours after. Lonlier than they've ever been.

#whump #this one got to me a little as i was writing it #Help Them

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malibu-barbie-piece-of-shit · 1 year

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Promise

Pairing:Edward Cullen X male!reader

Summary:Edward is the insecure one this time:)

Word count:545

Author's note:This is my first fanfic I've ever posted! This started as something for an oc but it was changed to be an x reader last second haha.

Y/n had just barely started falling asleep before he felt his body go cold. This feeling was all too familiar to him. Edward has finished his nightly routine of entering Y/n's room .

This arrangement has been going on for a while now. Y/n's mom disliked the Cullen family very much, "Those kids are so anti-social, they are such a bad influence," she would say. So when he waltzed in the living room with Edward Cullen by his side with the title of "boyfriend," she was beside herself. Edward didn't care much for that reaction. Y/n was meant for him and nothing would come between them.

However, Y/n felt completely smothered by his mom. So to get around her rules, he allowed Edward into the house whenever his mom was asleep or out of the house. Neither of them liked staying apart for any length of time, but it was what was best for right now.

Edward traced Y/n's jaw with the tips of his cold, statuesque fingertips. He savored every moment of this feeling. It was a strange feeling, really. It was something he had never felt before, even stranger that a human was casing it, and he was completely addicted.

It was if electric shocks were being sent through Y/n's body with Edward's touch. A small sigh escaped him as he rolled over to cuddle closer to Edward's chest. The vampires strong fragrance of lilac and honey permeated the air. It was clear that sleep would have to wait.

"I love you,"Edward breathed.

"I love you too,"Y/n said while gently touching Edward's cheek.

"Please understand that I'm being serious."

Y/n looked up at Edward with confusion in his eyes. They told each other "I love you" every night, what made this time any different? He didn't understand. Had he upset Edward? Certainly not, right?

"I didn't know when to bring this up earlier but-all of your friends,"Edward hissed,"They've all broken up with their partners...You can't be like them!"

It was true, a "curse" had fell over the members of Y/n's friend group and, one-by-one, every couple within went through a nasty breakup. Edward and Y/n are the only ones left together.

"We're not like them,"Y/n grabbed onto Edward's hands,"You can't think like that!"

By this point, the two were sitting up and staring intensely into the others eyes. If Edward could cry, his honey-colored eyes would be welling with tears,"Just the thought of us not being together is painful. Y/n, you are my life and without you, it has no purpose."

Y/n cupped Edward's face with both his hands and held it firmly. He felt heartbroken, he had no idea that Edward had doubts about their love.

"We will never leave one another. You are the only person that has made me feel loved. I know that you love me and I know that you know I love you-,"Edward cut off Y/n with a rough kiss.

This lead to a long string of sharing passionate kisses until Y/n was breathless. The human and the vampire got lost in one another until Edward pulled them apart.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

-🐺

#twilight #fandom #fanfic #twilight fanfiction #edward cullen #male reader #gay #cullen #edward cullen fanfiction #fanfics give me the power to change canon personalites and you can't stop me

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itsahotminuteinbetween · 8 months

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I lowkey (highkey) reeeaaaaallly wanna see Nice Eclipse's Moon come to our dimension.

It's probably gonna be an episode, and I can only see it going to ways: he backs down, or he doesn't.

Just think: Solar's (calling him Solar like @ayy-imma-ninja [tthey're at this tumblr so go check'em out if you haven't already {you prob already have tho let's be honest}, I'll probably just end up calling his Moon S.Moon cuz I'm lazy, sorry for the terrible formating of this by the way, I'm terrible at organizing my thoughts...this is why I type in the notes guys] does because it gets very confusing for me, I hope they don't mind if they see this, not gonna tag them cuz I don't wanna bother anyone with my dumb lil ideas) Moon stumbles through the ballpit and rights himself after the initial disorientation, eyes zeroed in on his kill. He scans the Daycare and identifies his target at the security desk. But guess who else is there...?

That's-that's him, right there, talking to Eclipse.

Of course, it isn't really him, he'll probably reason. That's this dimension's Moon, the one Solar seems to be so enamored with. He doesn't talk to Solar, not unless he has to, not after what he did to Sun.

But watching some version of himself talk to him...they're both at at ease with each other, or as relaxed as they can be with whatever seemingly serious hushed conversation going on is about. Still, they're civil with each other, actually bordering on friendly, familiar, even. And seeing that, S.Moon realizes...

This Moon is so much happier than he is.

But of course he's happy. He still has his brother, even after everything they've been through. His brother was lost before they had ever hoped to have gained anything, dead before their lives together even started.

Why does this Moon get to be happy? Why doesn't he deserve that same fate that S. Moon has suffered through? They're the exact same model, the exact same person.

But we're not the same, a quiet voice whispers in the back of his head.

He hates that it sounds like Sun.

I don't think S. Moon is really impulsive enough to actually start a fight. I do think, however, that he has quite a temper, so he probably wouldn't back down if the pair were to suddenly notice him in the ballpit and call him out (yes I'm using this as a way to continue the situation hush I am weak). So. I think the scenario would probably play out as Solar seeing S.Moon in the pit and going 'oh shit I'm gonna die' in that hardly surprised drawl of his, and then our Moon comes out and goes 'uh NOPE not gonna happen'. Which means we've got a battle of the Moons. Yippy-ki-yay. S.Moon probably confronts our Moon, argues with him. ('Why are you defending him? He's the reason our brother's gone!') Cue Solar feelin guilty while Moon goes 'nah dude this guy's different this guy's in my house so back off'

smalll scuffle to continue the plot cuz I HAVE A POINT WITH THIS I PROMISE-

Small scuffle, almost gets into a full-on fight, but who should come to his brother's aid but Sir Sunrise himself. He'd rush in, probably try to calm down this stranger who's he's trying very hard to ignore because it reminds him of the Old Moon so much.

(Remember, S. Moon's not the only one to go through the loss of a brother...)

And S. Moon just...stops. He's still, save for wobbling optics that quiver as they take this Sun in with disbelief.

He hasn't seen his brother in so long. He looks-he looks so different-tired and worn out and far too anxious, more so than he used to be. S.Moon reaches out...

...and then pulls back.

This isn't right. It's him but it's not, it's not him. This Sun has a brother, a family, friends, a life. This Sun has been broken, but he's healing in a way S. Moon never will. And with that all, there's something else he senses...

This Sun is happy.

...S.Moon wonders if his brother would be as happy with him as this one is.

He forces his optics of of the yellow animatronic in front of him and the orange one eyeing him warily.

He then walks back to the ballpit and teleports away without a word.

Solar observes quietly. Another careful prompt from Moon, asking if he thinks S.Moon will come back. It's a soft attempt at reassurance of a presence caring for him at the same time as it serves as a cautious probing at his feelings. He doesn't say much of anything, just shrugging, telling the blue animatronic that he doesn't know what his Moon'll do next, if he'll come back.

But he does know. He knows that there's one thing about every Moon that never changes regardless of the dimension: he always honors his word. And he knows his Moon won't come back.

He can piece together why pretty easily. Seeing this perfect little family that Solar has found and somehow earned a place in further confirmed his cut ties with him. It also cemented something else: S.Moon may never know what family is like. He had that chance with Sun, then Solar, and he blew it. Seeing that bond here, something he can never be a part of...

He knows that he's the outsider now.

That silent staring match between them said it all. S.Moon won't come back. The one and only kind thing he'll ever do for Solar. He'll go back to his dimension, silently aching for a future that he can't have, a world that isn't his. He'll work on his Sun. It's not Sun anymore, either, really, just an empty shell. Moon's no fool. He's probably realized that Sun's gone for ages, he won't come back. He knows that what he works on tirelessly, slaving away at night after night, skipping charges and sacrificing anything, perhaps even the metal plating on his endoskeleton if it comes to it, it's all for the sake of nothing but a hollow corpse, a husk of a brother long gone.

Moon doesn't have anything left to work for.

A part of Solar wants to go back and help him, save him. Maybe he will, someday. But he's making his own decisions now, choosing his own happiness. So he lets Lunar drag him away from the Daycare and his messy thoughts with a question of if he wants to watch more cartoons or maybe play Minecraft if he's not up to it?

Tired optics soften at the gesture and allow the smaller animatronic to lead the way.

He's home now. He's let go.

Eclipse moves on.

Well that accidentally became a drabble instead of an analysis. Oops.

...also I'm gonna tag @sunnyinajar because you seem to like my lil blurps abt tsams? I mean I'm sorry for tagging if you don't you don't have to like it I hope you do but if you don't uh that's okay um I'm gonna save this before I lose confidence and delete it-

#sorry to bother #don't mind me #uhh how do I tag this #uhhh #tsams #drabble #um that'll do for now I guess?#I dunno I've never written anythin for tsams before #I blame this on sue #it plagues me at 5 am this morning and I've been turning it around in my head all day #I am a mess at talking to people in case you didn't notice btw #minute wastes time

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that-stray-bird · 7 months

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The Outworld Melodia

Sorrows and ideals come to light, while the troubled one's soul remains unbright. Lost in an uncharted world from the past, the regret's shadow forever to last.

Warnings: mentions of abduction, bomb threats, lack of sleep, reader having some family issues, robbing, chasing, teleporting, nightmares, passed away people, someone dying, angst, rain, and some comfort for Kunikida.

Chapter 5

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

The city was shrouded in mist. The distant blaring of car horns in the city's center reached your ears while dimly lit shopping signs adorned the buildings, catching your eye. A group of doves, pecking at the sidewalk for crumbs, scattered into the air as you walked through them. You carried your violin on your back and held a phone to your ear, tears streaming down your cheeks like a furious river.

"Mom! I'm serious! Why can't you listen to me once in a while?!" you screamed since it was your mother on the other side of the phone line. "I just want a week of peace without those two ruining everything!" you declared. "(Name)! Calm down! You're overreacting!" your mother started from the other side.

"Overreacting! You let those two do whatever they bloody want, but once I want something. I'm suddenly the bad guy! Those halfwits are literally breaking more laws than I have ever broken a single house rule!" you said. "I don't want to spend time with those criminals. Why are you forcing me to tolerate them?!" you yelled. "They're your siblings. They might misbehave once in a while, but they’re your family,” your mother gave the same excuse you had heard a thousand times.

"Step-siblings! And they're not my family. They've been nothing but a thorn in my ass ever since you brought them into the house with that man, and when they literally break the law, you don’t even properly discipline them. You let them go with a measly warning and then do whatever their father tells you to do!” you said.

“You are a sad excuse of a mother!”

"(Name)! You come home right now! You're grounded!" your mother said with frustration.

"Exactly! Every time I express my feelings, I get punished, while those two brats get ice cream after breaking some poor kid's toy." you flailed your arms, and tears welled in your eyes. "This is why I can't rely on you for anything!" you yelled at her and ended the call before she could respond.

Stopping in your tracks, you took deep breaths, but then you kicked a trash can and cried angrily. You covered your eyes as the tears forced themselves out of your eyes.

When did your own mother become so distant from you? When has she started valuing the feelings of stranger's children over yours?

You wiped your tears away with the sleeve of your jacket and tried to calm the storm of emotions raging within you. Crying openly in the middle of the streets was not something you wanted to do, so you steeled yourself and tried to continue your journey back to your apartment.

Someone suddenly bumped into you. "Hey!" you yelled, glaring at the hooded person.

"Sorry," the hooded person mumbled and quickly walked away. You took a deep breath, trying to control your frustration, but then you noticed that your phone and wallet were gone.

"Hey!" you yelled with increasing anger as you realized that the hooded person was the one who took your belongings. The hooded person quickly sprinted away, and you gave chase, fully aware that losing your phone and wallet to a robber would only add more to your troubles.

You chased the hooded burglar to an empty street corner. They momentarily vanished from your sight, but when you rounded the corner, you were astonished to see the burglar standing at the dead end, their hands glowing with an eerie blue light. They made a motion with their hand, and a large portal materialized. You nearly rubbed your eyes to see if you were dreaming, but it was very clear that you were not dreaming or imagining things. The portal was real, like something out of the movies you’d seen.

Despite your shock, your determination to retrieve your belongings overcame your hesitation. You charged at the burglar, shouting, "Hey! Give me back my things!" and tackled them. Unknowingly, you pushed them and yourself into the portal, and you plunged through the blue vortex. As you fell, your voices merged into terrified screams until you both landed hard on the forest floor.

Groaning in pain, you pushed yourself up from the grassy ground, feeling a throbbing ache in your arms and legs. As you struggled to regain your bearings, you noticed the burglar getting up and fleeing. "Hey! Get back here!" you yelled, but your numb legs prevented you from giving chase.

Sitting on the grass, you patiently waited for the feeling to return to your legs. You glanced down at your phone, which you had managed to snatch back from the burglar's pocket during the chaotic portal tumble. Unfortunately, the burglar still had your wallet.

“What the hell?” you uttered when you noticed your surroundings.

You were in a forest even though you clearly remember being in a city. The forest was shrouded in darkness, and unsettling, unnatural sounds emanated from the shadows, like something beastly was lurking nearby.

You gasped when you heard something rustling, and then you saw a sinister sight: a gnarled tree with black, malicious eyes and fangs protruding from its bark. Its roots and twigs writhed toward you, no doubt prepared to snare you. Overwhelmed with fear, you screamed, and suddenly, all turned black.

—

Gasping awake, your heart pounded against your chest as you stared at the ceiling. Soon, you realized you were lying on your futon, safe in your familiar dorm room, and that it was just a bad dream you just saw.

Letting out a fatigued sigh, you ran your fingers through your hair, scratching the back of your head as you got up from your bed. Your eyes stung from dryness, and you groggily made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Unwashed dishes lay scattered around the sink, a chore you had been meaning to tackle but struggled to find the time and energy for. In the corners, a collection of clothes and dust had accumulated, leaving your place in a less than pristine state, quite unlike its usual cleanliness.

The turmoil in your head began to subside as you poured a glass of water and took a painkiller to address the persistent morning headache. You couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of these headaches, but your best guess was your irregular sleep patterns. Lately, you've been struggling to maintain a healthier sleep schedule.

As your mind cleared, you couldn't help but think about the dream when it came back to you. A realization dawned that it wasn’t just a random dream but a memory, the haunting memory of how you ended up in this world, separated from your own.

Fortunately, there was no tree monster to eat you when you fell from the portal that day; you were just left to fend for yourself in those woods.

You then had been trying to track down the burglar, especially once it became clear that they possessed the unique ability to traverse between worlds. The motive behind their robbery remained a mystery, but you were certain that finding them was the key to helping you return to your own world.

It's just been challenging since you didn't dare to ask for the agency's help. They didn't know you were from a different world, and you were too afraid to find out how they would react if you told them, so finding the burglar had been a quiet project for you. Luckily, you had some people who knew and promised to keep a lookout. You should ask them later if they have found something new.

Your phone vibrated, and you took it out to see it was a message from Dazai. Sighing, you looked into what he had to say, knowing he had something mischievous in his mind.

"Hey, (Name). When you're awake come to the agency," - Dazai had written.

"Why?" - you typed.

"Just come. I have something to show you =) " - Dazai replied with a smiley emoji.

You closed your phone and began preparing for the day. You knew that arguing with Dazai could be exhausting, and he had a way of being persistently annoying when it came to you joining his shenanigans, so it was just easier for you to say yes and see what he was up to.

—

You walked into the office and spotted Kunikida, Atsushi, and Dazai engrossed in a conversation and working on something. You had heard they were working on an abduction case, so it piqued your curiosity even further what Dazai wanted. "Good morning," you greeted them with a sleepy tone as you approached.

"Morning, (Name)," Atsushi greeted you with a warm smile until he noticed your fatigued appearance, which prompted his concern. "Are you okay? You look very tired," he inquired.

You stifled a yawn and replied, "I just had a rough night's sleep. It's nothing to worry about."

"You know, you would get more sleep if you lessen your nightly violin sessions," Kunikida said while focussing on typing on his computer. "I could then start doing some gigs again, but then you would start scolding me for working less in the agency," you stated, then glanced at Dazai.

"Anyway, Dazai, what is it that you wanted to show me," you glanced at the brunette.

"We were discussing Kunikida's affection for his meticulous planning and his vision of the ideal woman," Dazai said with a mischievous grin. "As a lovely lady yourself, perhaps you could share your thoughts on his dream lady?" He then revealed a section from Kunikida's notebook, which he likely pilfered.

Kunikida stared at Dazai, startled and clearly annoyed. "You bastard, when did you swipe that?!" he exclaimed.

You looked at Dazai disappointed. "Dazai. I don't think it's nice to make fun of — Oh!" your eyes widened when you finally comprehended the words in Kunikida's notebook. "See. I told you it was something interesting!" Dazai said as he let you take the notebook from his hand and read it thoroughly.

"Dazai, you bastard!" Kunikida said as he tried to strangle the bandaged man. Atsushi looked at the scene concerned while you closed the notebook, having read enough.

"Kunikida," you said, making him freeze and give you his attention.

"With all due respect. You have the right to your preferences and types in a partner, but..." you said, making him nearly flinch from your tone of voice. "Is it really that too much?" he questioned. "No! No!... but..." you winced, and Atsushi grimaced at your obvious failing attempt trying to be nice about the whole thing.

"I think if you want to have chances in the future, don't show this to your potential partner," you handed the notebook back to Kunikida.

Kunikida appeared nearly defeated, Dazai was snickering, and Atsushi regarded you with a sympathetic gaze. You awkwardly patted the taller man on the shoulder. "Uhm... don't take my words too seriously. I'm sure you'll find someone perfect for you one day," you tried to sound comforting, though it might have come across as insincere.

"She's right, but what's regrettable thought is this..." Dazai took out a newspaper. You looked over to see a picture of Kunikida. "You should have picked sexier eyeglasses. If you ended up in the news," Dazai then looked at Kunikida. "These are so lame," he grabbed Kunikida's glasses, "Hey!" Kunikida protested.

Dazai then put the glasses on himself. "Only a natural flamboyant person like me could pull off wearing them," he said. He then struck a little pose. "What do you think, (Name), Atsushi?" he asked."You look good," you said. "Not bad," Atsushi added.

Kunikida was quiet for a moment, most likely thinking something. He then looked like he had a realization. "What's the matter?" Dazai asked, and Kunikida took his glasses back.

"Let's go. I know who's behind this," Kunikida said.

"Oh dear..." Dazai sighed and then turned to you. "Ah, (Name), I almost forgot. I was supposed to ask if you could take care of a few things while we're away and look after our latest guest." He handed you a parchment. "She's a victim we rescued from drowning yesterday," he added as you read the note.

"Yeah, sure. I can handle that," you replied.

"Thank you~" Dazai teased with a grin and stood up. "I knew we could always count on you for extra help."

"Yeah, yeah... be careful," you said as they left to investigate Kunikida's suspect.

However, you were curious about the thing Dazai asked you to do.

—

Later in the evening, after cleaning up your place and making a place for a guest, you placed a cup of tea on the table. "I'm sorry for the trouble, Miss Sasaki. You had come to a peaceful trip but right after being saved from abduction. The whole city is now under a bomb threat. It seems these are very unlucky times now," you said as you sat on the opposite side of the dinner table.

"It's alright, (Name). I'll understand. Thank you for letting me stay at your place, " The dark-haired woman softly smiled as she accepted the cup of tea. "It's the least I could do since you are technically in our protection," you said.

"So... you're a university teacher?" you asked. “Yes, I study and specialize in criminology,” Sasaki smiled at you. “That’s an intriguing subject. Do you have any thoughts about this whole case with the Azure King and all?” you questioned. “How much do you know about the Azure King?” Sasaki asked. “Not much. I do find his case interesting. I’ve heard he was a leader of a terrorist group and that he had intense ideals. It kinda reminds me of Kunikida,” you said, making her chuckle.

“I agree with that,” she softly said. “I mean… Kunikida’s not terrible, but he should take it easy once in a while. If he doesn’t I’m afraid Dazai will end up being right, and he dies from cribbling anger or something.” you said. Sasaki smiled amused.

“He does remind me of my lover a bit,” Sasaki said, her gaze fixed on her tea, her emotions hidden but suffused with deep sorrow. It seemed that something had happened to her beloved.

Curious, you inquired, "What was your lover like?"

Sasaki looked surprised for a moment as if she hadn't anticipated the question. "Well... as I said, he was quite like Kunikida. Filled with ambitions and ideals. I admired those qualities about him because I didn't have many of my own," she replied. Your curiosity led you to ask, "I'm sorry, but he 'was'? Did something happen to him?"

Sasaki's surprise lingered. You realized she unintentionally revealed a truth she might not have meant to share. "I'm sorry for being rude," you quickly apologized.

Her voice softened as she confessed, "No, it's all right. I told the others that my lover is still alive, but the truth is he passed away in an incident a long time ago, and I find it difficult to talk about him."

With empathy, you responded, "It's all right. I completely understand."

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to cause any unpleasant memories,” you said sincerely. Sasaki remained quiet till her eyes landed upon your violin, which was placed on a stand. “You play music?” she motioned at the violin. “Yes. I used to be a music student. It helps me relieve stress,” you stated. “Why aren’t you a student anymore?” she questioned curiously. “I had a little incident, which forced me to quit. Would you like to hear me play?” you questioned.

“Oh, (Name). I would love to hear you play,” Sasaki smiled with her hands together. “My lover had his ideals and ambitions, but he had a certain appreciation for music,” she revealed. You stood up and grabbed your violin from the stand.

“Well… I hope I can bring good memories with my playing,” you said, placing the violin on your shoulder and slowly beginning to play a familiar tune.

Your dorm room resonated with the melody of your music, and Sasaki appeared content as she listened to you play. Having your ability fully active, you had access to her full spectrum of emotions. From the outside, she presented a soft, seemingly happy, and contented tune due to your music. However, delving deeper into her inner world, you discover hollowness and emptiness that nearly startled you.

You could sense deep hatred and sorrow. Sasaki’s tune was sorrowful yet hid something dark behind the brightness. Now, you understand why Dazai asked you to look into her feelings through your ability, her true feelings. She was not what she claimed to be.

Carefully yet willing to please your guest with songs, you spent the night playing till it was time to rest and wait for good news.

—

Good news greeted your ears when the morning came. Atsushi, Dazai, and Kunikida had successfully defused the bomb in time, leading to the arrest of a couple of ability users, who had been manipulated by another party to commit those actions. The city was safe, but unfortunately, this meant that the Azure Messenger case had not yet been solved.

You ascended the stairs intending to meet with Dazai to share the information you had gathered during your time with Sasaki.

However, you did not intend your foot to miss a step and make you fall backward. “Shit!” you embraced for impact, but then a pair of hands caught you, pulled you back, spun you around, and then you were faced with Dazai as he held your back and hand from falling but keeping you in a dip position with a cheeky smile on his voice.

“Careful now. You could have hurt yourself,” Dazai said.

“My foot slipped, but thank you, Dazai,” you replied as he helped you stand and let go.

“Did you have a pleasant time with Miss Sasaki?” Dazai asked. “I did. She was nice company, but… I learned something,” you pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Dazai. “I’m afraid she’s not who she claims to be and that…. she might be involved in this whole case,” you explained as Dazai read everything you had written on the paper. He had a disappointed expression on his face.

“Well, that is a shame indeed,” he said as he refolded the paper.

“You had a lead all this time?” you questioned. “Let’s just say I had a little hunch. I need a few more proofs to fulfill my suspicions,” Dazai replied.

“How do you think Kunikida is going to react? The two seemed to have grown a liking to each other?” you questioned. “Unfortunately, this is going to be the misfortune he has to face. There’s no denying that,” Dazai said seriously.

You remained silent, feeling a sense of pity for Kunikida. Dazai, however, interrupted your thoughts by clapping his hands together, gaining your attention. "But let's not get too melancholic just yet. We'll know more once this case is finally wrapped up," he stated before leaving. "Thank you, (Name). I'll treat you for your help in this," he added.

Playfully, you responded, "If your idea of a treat involves a double suicide, I'll pass."

Dazai exaggeratedly feigned offense. "Ugh! Harsh words! (Name)! How about you strangle me to death with the strings of your violin as well?"

"Oh, shut it, you drama queen!" you retorted as he exited through the door. You shook your head at his dramatics while still contemplating the potential tragedy Kunikida might face with Sasaki. You could only hope that it wouldn't be too devastating.

—

The day had truly been filled with misfortunes. Miss Sasaki had indeed been responsible for the recent events. Dazai and Kunikida had confronted her, but the encounter had left Rokuzo severely wounded, who then upon chance took Sasaki’s life before succumbing to his own injuries. The loss had hit Kunikida hard, as he had cared for Rokuzo after the boy's father was killed in the explosion caused by the Azure King, who in the end, was Sasaki's deceased lover. Losing both of them like this was an epitome of twists and tragedies.

Despite Kunikida's preference for solitude in moments of mourning, you felt compelled to check on him. You knew he would likely be at the cemetery, where Rokuzo's father was laid to rest, and there he stood, silently before the tombstone. The sky had turned gray, and somber clouds dominated the weather. The usual bright and determined tune of his emotions had fallen silent, replaced by a deep, quiet well of pain and sorrow.

You silently appeared next to him, holding an umbrella above his head since it began to pour, an impeccable timing for such a sorrowful day.

“I wonder…” Kunikida started, his voice oddly quiet. “What he would say now that I have allowed his only son to die under my watch?” his question silently haunted the air as you thought about what to say to him to even slightly relieve the pain from his heart.

Telling him it was not his fault would be useless since he was technically drowning in guilt.

“I think he might feel grateful…” you said, “And why do you say that?” Kunikida glanced at you. “Because you were there for Rokuzo at least till the very end. When he couldn’t,” you glanced at the tombstone.

After a few seconds of silence, you heard Kunikida release a silent gasp and saw tears finally pour down from his eyes like the rain around you. You remained quiet, letting him shed his sorrow. In other cases, it would have been strange to see him in such a state since he was always so confident and level-headed, but in this case, it only felt natural.

Kunikida allowed his tears to fall for a moment till he took in a deep breath and dried up his tears, recovering from the sudden rush of emotions. You felt the pain in his heart relieve just a bit, and it was enough to make you glad.

“I will be handling the funeral. (Name)...” Kunikida paused. You glanced and hummed to hear what he was about to say. “Will you be willing to play a few songs there? At least to revoke some good memories,” he questioned. You gently nodded. “Of course,” you replied.

“Thank you…” Kunikida said as the rain continued to fall around you, watering the gray tombstones and washing away the sorrows.

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