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mrdrhenwardhykle · 1 year

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So basically, if you ask me if I like creepypastas (specifically the game-related ones) my honest answer would be mostly no-but kind of yes? 'No' as in pushing away all the usual gunk (mostly based around Sonic and Sonic influence) that repeats the formula of protagonist is now the bad guy- you play as a cast of three usually made up of player 2's and 3's, minor characters, and/or antagonists; going to the right of the screen until they inevitably die. The rare instance of 'yes' extends out to the non-humorous parodies of older franchises that becomes much more than 'recoloring Sonic.exe by picking another franchise from a hat' or 'angry dead sibling of the player haunts the game' plot; and rather works as a twisted character study of the original plot or gameplay.

eugg so basically this is my study and perspective on the right way to twist a protagonist into a compelling and threatening antagonist/villain

I've got three examples of what I think working character studies look like, and I'll list them off from least violent to the most. Just a warning, the last one gets pretty bad. The first one only has one instance of gore that I know of, and it's not in your face at all.

*Spoilers and gameplay links for all. Feel free to play any of them before reading*

1.(Maybe FW? Slight gore and violence, disturbing) To begin, we'll talk about "Q*Bert Arcade" by Tarkan809 on Gamejolt. The game itself is fairly simple and not too far from home from the original arcade game (As the title might allude to and accidently trick you with). There are noticeable differences that will likely throw the player off, such as the fact that you're playing as one of the enemy Coilies(the snake), and the lack of enemies or atmospheric sound effects in the first stage. It's off and isolated, but not a blaring sign of danger. What really throws the game off is the completion of stage 1, as both the music and screen distort in an unsettling matter. Nonetheless, nothing at this point is added, as the majority of what is seen is edited-or enhanced, if you will, from the original material. There's no blaring red flags like unfitting music from another franchise, or the villain being revealed in the first impression of the title sequence. You are given this atmosphere that is built to remain close to 'normal'- allowing for the small differences to be twice as effective in the creep factor.

From the second level onward, we're introduced to the one new element to the narrative; Q*bert. To my knowledge, the game is just called 'Q*bert Arcade' and not something like Q*bert.exe-as every let's play YouTuber calls it; Q*bert's design isn't the typical addition of predatory features. There's no pitch black eyes with red pupils, there's no sharp teeth or claws (although idk how that would work on Q*bert in the first place). Instead, Q*bert's typical look is enhanced with humanoid-like features, with a soulless expression. You can't really tell it off the bat however, as the same glitch effect does fairly well at hiding his design-whether or not you decide to hide away. While I don't believe that hiding the monster's appearance is a mandatory move, but playing with the fear of the unknown is always unique and effective nonetheless. What I really like about this game is that there's no text appearing out of nowhere and explaining the personality and motives of the character right away.

Despite the presence of the character, it's still staying fairly true to the original material. All you hear from the character is his typical jumbled up text-to-speech voice; not being too off from the original use, but being an affective spook-factor in a different setting.

I also just noticed this, but there's a subtle detail between the first level and when Q*bert shows up; as you may notice that the Coily's expression changes from neutral to worried as soon as the stage turns orange (I think. I don't think I'm seeing things. But if it's not, it's doing its job in making me think I'm seeing things)

The death scenes in the gameplay aren't overly violent or out of character, as the voice and screen just distort severely and restart. There's room for gameplay, and nothing (to my knowledge) is removed in the controls for the sake of the enemy magically catching up. The game ends on a level mostly without Q*bert- only showing up when the player completes their part.

What I like most about the antagonist character is that the writing isn't afraid to show it expression emotions. Though it might sound like I'm constantly bashing on the Sonic.exe character, I'm not- but the tropes the character is always associated with often don't leave much room for anything but what he-and others like him- are usually associated with. By most X is shown to have two emotions; Soulless happy/pleased/amused or soulless angry. Either way, the character more often than not gets his way in the end- so it doesn't effect his choices and mannerisms. Q*bert's emotions-however-effect the plot greatly. There's no overpowered god-like presence- as much as there is a theme of human-like emotion and pettiness. While in his somber mood, Q*bert plays fair with the player- even to the point of jumping off if they manage to hide away in time. He's fast, but works by foot and not random supernatural tendencies.

His human-like nature gets to him by the end of the demo, causing him to angrily throw the Coily in a rage-fit- smashing them against the ground and chewing off the tip of their tail. There's no cheap jump-scares and loud noises. There's also no need for fourth-wall breaks to make sure the player feels threatened. The blood and violence is minimized to just one stroke of action. It's not about cramming in the shock factor- its goal is to simulate a fear of what this arcade game is, what has has happened to it, and what it can become.

To my knowledge, there isn't much of an explanation behind this other than the player is likely a kid in an old arcade that sneaks into the backroom while everyone else is on their phones. Someone said it's based on a creepypasta with a cabinet-man-like premise, but idk if that's true.

I think it's neat nonetheless.

2. (Slight gore, loud scares, and FW) The next example is more of a character study of an alternate universe/route than it is a creepypasta attempting to convince you it's a real thing. Gimmick! (Window's 98 Edition) or 'YUME.EXE' by Diplocaule on Gamejolt appears to be a startling but effective route in making the audience fear the original. Taken side-by-side, YUME.EXE and Gimmick! go alongside similar plotlines. Both introduce the premise beginning on a young girl's birthday, opening the gift of a strange and small creature as her special surprise. In the original route, the girl is thrilled with the gift of Yumetaro-likely favoring them over her old toys and making them jealous.

However, YUME.EXE displays an AU in which the young girl isn't pleased with her special gift- and just places it on her cabinet to catch dust. The once magical abilities and origins of the character are turned against the girl- making it clear that she has made a terrible fiend. The other toys are removed, and she is taken to an unfamiliar world twisted from the original material. The traits of the original protagonist being an attention-loving creature with magical powers allowing it to travel between worlds is an excellent trait to be elaborated further upon in another light. The logic makes sense with the established world, and the motives become clear in perspective.

This time, you play as the girl; trapped in a bleak 3-D void-unsure of what is to happen next. The jealous creature catches up eventually. Text and jump scares are used in this one, but tastefully. The theme is brash and intense- simulating a fear of resentment and anger. A aggressive feeling is established and exposed- like a wound rotting terribly the more the player attempts to search around. While it's 3-D and likely an attempt to simulate realism in the player, the environment isn't pulled out of character at all- as the textures are pixelated. The text urges the girl to go back to where she started, revealing a waiting 'YUMI' crawling out of the darkness to lunge at her. It likely impales her somehow, causing her to fall down while slowly dying. The background changes to its usual happy-theme, simulating a feeling of joy in her death as she slowly bleeds out. After a quick jumpscare, the protagonist role swapes back to 'YUMI' and its usual gameplay style. Going forward, the character stumbles upon the poor girl's body, and slowly begins to smile.

To my knowledge; there's no 'real-life' name drops that set this up as another 'real victim stuck in a game' scenario, but simulating the same fear by implying the hidden pettiness and ironic villainy in an already established character if choices are made differently. In that way, the original route is seen as the best choice, as her original toys are now seen as the far-lesser two evils.

3. (Very violent, loud jumpscares, FW, disturbing) Alright, so Adventure Island.exe by Anomalocalis on Gamejolt is a gory, but great example both adding a themes and setting an AU to the original story, without being too crowded (albeit it is very overwhelming, but intentionally). Both games start of just about the same- not changing until you approach the enemies. For context (to what I understand) the original Adventure Island is a basic platform game, allowing for the player to occasionally pick up random-but-wacky powerups from eggs, such as skateboard gear-or maybe even Fairies. The spoof removes the cartoonish theme and logic, weighing in on the reality of man becoming a destructive menace in nature -possessed or not. Beginning the game, the narrative establishes personality points by showing the enemies fleeing as soon as the player comes to the screen. The gameplay is slower, and almost simulating a destructive weight that the original Higgins didn't have before. The first red flags aren't scares or glitches, but rather just key detail changes in the enemies behavior. Also another detail is that the points do nothing, but I'm not sure what that could mean other than maybe a theme of gluttony?...

Again, the realistic behaviors in the character set in an expectedly unrealistic environment brings a subtle unsettling feeling, even if when the scares aren't happening.

The level comes to an end, and the mechanism of the egg is finally teased. Going further and collecting the egg, a spirit emerges and potentially possesses Higgins. Themes of Higgins playing along with long awaited tribal rituals and sacrifices is brought to the narrative, as an unnamed narration encourages him to explore it further. This could symbolize man's nature to destroy, establish, and obtain power over the value of life. We often have a natural habit to find gods to praise, or even go as far to attempt to become one. This theme seems very prominent in this character study- as seeing how the original material works off of a semi-implied civilized man (assuming from the ballcap) fighting off wildlife in the jungle.

The game restarts, beginning the second act. The title shows once again, but with the subtle animation of Higgin's face changing and smiling upon the player. The cult-like affirmations towards Higgins are seen again just before the level starts. The level doesn't require anything more than to go forward. Higgins is slow and silently fuming behind the shadows. Enemies flee, but are destroyed by the touch. Likely because of his choice, life is easier- lessening the need for platforms and jumping. However, because of this, he begins to lose his humanity.

A sacrifice is demanded, and he does so by capturing and violently smashing to death one of the fairies. Furthering the power requires no love or remorse, likely being something replaced by asserting authority.

This act likely ends with the 'power' killing him with no pay-off, despite what is promised. He's no longer in the menu. Heaven no longer has its goal or purpose, and is described as something he personally has to obtain-likely through his violent means. The game resumes normally until it ends in a jumpscare. Perhaps displaying that his standards of killing have no exception on another human.

Rather than a playful spoof, or alternate set of choices queuing in the butterfly effect; Higgin's personality is fleshed out by inserting some new elements; displaying a semi-accurate depiction of the narrative, and showing the protagonist submitting to the natural human urge to indulge and assert power over those below them.

Summary: When writing your spook spoof, remember to play with elements that compliment and explore each character; rather than just resorting to what everybody else did, or what's going to create the most shock factor.

(Also, keep this in mind; Sonic.exe is going to work for Sonic because it's often a play on 'what if the fastest thing alive wasn't on the good side'. Doing the exact same thing to, eh-idk, Kirby isn't going to work because speed isn't an element that makes Kirby threatening...) (That I know of. You would go with the fact that he eats people and gains their power, I assume....)

K. Hope my ramblings help out somebody at some point. Anyways, have a great day/night!

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healinghks · 1 year

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Unidentified

What if I’m enough on my own?

What if I am worthy of real self-love and real self-respect? What if it has nothing to do with how hot I am, how good my grades are, how much money I’ll make, or how ripped I am? What if I’m just... enough as I am?

But who am I? How can I be enough if there’s not enough of me to be enough in? What if I just don’t have an identity?

Grief takes away everything. The world seemed larger and brighter when I was 22 and my family was healthy.

---

Text Messages on November 17, 2020

Me: Did dad tell you he has chest pain whenever he breathes in?

Eileen: Ummmm no. Wtf

Me: I’m scared. The most common signs of lung cancer are: (copied and pasted list from WebMd).

Text Messages on December 3, 2020

Me: Is it bad to say I already knew... Like I knew when he told me he had chest pain a month ago...

Eileen: I think we all knew for a long long time

Me: Has anyone told Danny?

---

Who was I prior to when those text messages came in? Because I haven’t been anyone since that day.

All I remember from the first half of 2021 is the color gray. I would drive to work and it would be gray. I’d drive to work and shed silent tears listening to “I Know The End” by Phoebe Bridgers, “Soon You’ll Get Better,” by Taylor Swift, and “What Sarah Said” by Death Cab for Cutie. The trifecta of songs for a depressed 23 year old who could feel that her father was going to die. I would drive home from work and it would be gray. I’d take a nap in my gray bedroom. If I could muster any energy, I’d go on a run on a gray sidewalk.

At some point, I detached from the gray. I started to build a personality that wasn’t me at all. In the second half of 2021, the color of my world shifted to a bright shade of pink. I wore pink leggings on a vacation to Colorado with my friends that I took while my dad stayed at home, miserable because of how much the radiation was affecting him. I was wearing a pink shirt to work when my mom called me and said that my dad had decided to switch to hospice status rather than continue treatment. I was wearing pink shorts when I destroyed a 4-year-long relationship because I wanted to feel free. I was wearing pink lipgloss when I met a guy at the bar a few days later and brought him home with me. Everything was pink and carefree. I posted pretty selfies and got a comment that said, “You seem so HAPPY! I’m so happy for where you are in life right now.” I thought I was the shit. My dad was dying and I was still happy. I thought I was the perfect image for how someone could be happy in tough times.

In 2022, the color started shifting to orange. Orange is a crazy color. It’s beautiful, but you can’t have too much of it; it just doesn’t ever work out that way. I lost sense of everything actually happening. Everything was fun. I did a lot of MDMA. I danced a lot. I went to the movies. I smoked so much weed. I ate at new restauraunts. I always had weekend plans. I even had weeknight plans. I was going, going, going. My going, going, going wasn’t even stopped by my dad’s death. I had plans made a few days after. 2 weeks after he died, I went to Miami, got dances with strippers, popped bottles, and fucked in a hotel room with a mirror on the ceiling above the bed. I was orange. I was crazy, I was sexy, I was fun, I was unhinged and in denial.

In the second half of 2022, I woke up. The loss of my human distraction, a piece of shit named Jeremy, sent my world into chaos. The world was blue because I was blue. Ocean waves of sadness poured out of me daily onto everyone I loved. I became nothing but heartbreak. It was visible to everyone around me. “Why does she always talk about getting cheated on?” said one of my classmates to another classmate behind my back.

I don’t know what color this stage of life is for me. It’s unidentified. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know who I am. Who was I before my world became gray? Who was I before I painted the sky pink and then orange in a desperate attempt to remove the gray? What color was the world when things were normal? Why does it feel like the world used to be brighter and now everything is kind of mundane and monotone? Who would I have been if my dad didn’t get cancer when I was 22?

What if I would’ve been a better person if he hadn’t died? What if I never would have torn up a good relationship? What if I would’ve treated people better? What if I would’ve had more of an idea about who I am? What if I would’ve stayed friends with people I abandoned? What if I had never been raped?

The what-ifs don’t get me anywhere, though. It’s useless to try to become the person I was pre-2020. I have to build a new me. But where do I start?

I don’t want to die unidentified.

Here Lies Helene... A nice person. A daughter and sister. A law student.

I don’t know what else goes in that sentence.

How could I be enough for another person if I’m not enough for myself?

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skylarsblue · 2 years

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Random Slasher Headcanons

Michael Myers

Michael cannot stand peanut butter. He likes the smell of peanuts & peanut butter, but, the consistency is something he won’t allow. It sticks to his hands & the roof of his mouth and it makes him genuinely angry. He doesn’t mind candy with chunks of peanuts, but no peanut butter. None. Keep it away from him.

THIS MAN IS A DRUMMER AT HIS HEART. Listen, if he wasn’t a stabby stabby murder man, he’d be a fucking drummer. It would be a fantastic way to get out his anger. Now, he’d certainly break his sticks constantly, but he’s a metal drummer. You can pry this from my cold, pale hands.

Michael can’t read. Not like he lacks the ability, but he cannot stand to sit down and read a book. Not only does it always make him tired, but most books have too small of text. Large paragraphs make his head hurt. Reading itself just feels like a boring hassle. He perceives visual and audible stuff a lot easier than reading it. This means he always ignores written instructions.

Michael is not a good cook. We know this. HOWEVER. He can do sandwiches, boxed mac & cheese, and grilled cheese. And he makes a pretty damn good grilled cheese. Man loves his cheddar.

Jason Voorhees

Woodcarving! Jason does woodcarving. He gets bored out there, alone in the forest, no technology. Even if he has his rounds to do, he gets bored in leisure time. He’s gained a few hobbies but woodcarving is his favorite. He makes little sculptures for his mother. She seems to like the bird ones the best.

My man is super suited for the wild. He makes all his own traps! Even the bear traps he uses are tampered with, just so they hold people better. He’s really good at figuring out how to hide the traps as well. Jason is a hunter for sure.

Jason Voorhees is red-yellow colorblind. Why do I say this? Because I can, damnit. Does this affect anything? No, but it does mean he likes cooler tones a lot more. Which is why he dresses in blue, green, etc. frequently. Reds, oranges, and yellows tend to just look like dull greys & browns. Pamela also had this! It’s why her favorite color was baby blue.

Jason’s fear of water kind of fluctuates. It’s a PTSD thing. Some days, he can handle water fine. It’s not something he prefers but it doesn’t freak him out as much. At worst it makes him a bit uncomfortable. On other days though, he gets really scared by even the memories of being near water. It’s made worse by flashbacks or nightmares. It all depends on the day and recent events.

Brahms Heelshire

We all know Brahms is a whore for sugary sweet treats, but, on the other side of the coin? Mans cannot do spice. To any degree. He thinks too much pepper is spicy, and he will complain. So, if you like actual flavor in your food, I’m sorry. Either you’ll have to make him something separate or you’ll need to dial it back a lot.

Even in his childish moments, Brahms has a very wide & eccentric vocabulary. He’s dabbled in poetry & short stories before. He especially gets into the writing mood after reading a good book. Now, he’d rather die than show anyone what he’s written, but it’s actually pretty good. If he dabbled in it more he could probably pass as a well seasoned author. He gets a bit ramble-y sometimes, though.

Mans is an artist. You cannot tell me he hasn’t dabbled in water color, especially when his parents put him in the walls. I don’t think his parents would be too into the idea of him having a messy hobby. But, he’s a creative boy. Even if he prefers writing. Show him Bob Ross, he’ll be so relaxed.

Did someone say chronic back pain? He naturally bends down when roaming through the walls & he sits hunched over. Coming from a person who hunches over everything, back pain. Mans also has poppy joints. Like, every time he turns or moves something pops. Mostly his knees and back. His joints like doing a firecracker impression whenever he moves.

Bo Sinclair

I’ve mentioned this in his Fluff Alphabet, but I think Bo was taught to play the piano. Now that he’s older, the piano they own is all dusty in the attic, out of tune. When he was younger though, it was how he got out a lot of his emotions without actually bothering anyone. It was one of the few things he got praise for too. The fact he could make elegant melodies without needing notes on a sheet to guide him? Amazing! And no one notices the fact he was five seconds from a mental breakdown. …now he just, drinks a lot of beer and goes through at least three cigarettes a day.

Bo has very sensitive hearing. You’d think with all the music he blared as a teen or the shots from his shotgun would’ve harmed his eardrums, but no, oddly enough. Mister Sinclair can identify noises from like several yards away. It’s part of the reason hiding from him is so hard. He will hear you breathe.

At some point, since all three boys were put in foster care, Bo had to get a lot of teen jobs to work up as much money as possible. Not only to cover things he and his brother would need when they turned eighteen, but so he could also adopt Lester. Lester is, at least, 4+ years younger than Bo & Vincent. Bo knew that when he and Vincent were able to be independent, the state would still be in control of where Lester was. Bo may be an asshole, but he’ll never leave one of his brothers alone. So as soon as he turned eighteen, he insisted on being Lester’s legal guardian. Worked out, thankfully.

Some of y’all got it twisted thinking Vincent is the high maintenance brother. (I’m kidding, he is) Bo, though he’d never admit it, has an extensive self care routine. He hides it, of course. He doesn’t need people thinking he’s soft! Bo’s a bit vain, it’s how he counteracts a lot of his insecurities. He’s the pretty brother, it’s what he gets the most praise for, so he needs to stay the pretty brother. He doesn’t know what else he’d have otherwise.

Lester Sinclair

I know he has a dirty job, but I think it’d be absolutely hilarious if his home was actually pretty clean. Sure, it’d be decorated in animal skins & bones, but it’s not messy clutter. I think that him having the cleaner home in comparison to Bo & Vincent would be absolutely HILARIOUS.

I think he's actually a pretty decent cook. Lester makes godly fried chicken. He’s not necessarily a chef that’s good in all fields, but what he cooks he’s good at. These are things like omelets, fried chicken, gumbo, and cod fish. However, he has a bad habit of making everything spicy.

Despite appearing the most scrawny out of his brothers, he’s got a decent amount of strength. It just doesn’t show much on his body. He has a fast metabolism. It’s hard to put on muscle when you struggle to put on weight, especially when sometimes he forgets to eat, so he’s not doing well there either. Still, he can manage some heavy lifting fairly well. But what’s most surprising is his grip strength. He avoids handshakes because of it. Bo has told him about a million times that Lester could break someone’s fingers with his hands. Helps when he’s opening jars though.

Lester is a natural snuggler, because I said so. When he falls asleep he naturally hugs whatever is closest. Sometimes that’s a pillow, sometimes it’s Jonesy, and when he was younger it was Bo’s arm. Now, if he tries to sleep without something to hug, his arms will just be curled up to his chest all awkwardly. On top of that, if you put something near him when he’s asleep, he will eventually end up hugging it. Once he has it, it stays there until he wakes up.

Vincent Sinclair

Did someone say BACK PROBLEMS?! We all know the infamous “shrimp” pose done by millions of artist, and Vincent is no exception to this. He sits and hunches in the most awkward positions while working. Their back pops all the time. Bo hates it.

Vincent’s the doctor in Ambrose. While all three brothers have some first aid knowledge and a concept of human anatomy, Vincent is by far the most well versed. Anytime his brothers get hurt or sick beyond the point of where they can take care of themselves, they go to Vincent. He’s always ready to help them, even if he may be silently scolding them in his brain.

Vincent’s not the best cook whatsoever, but they manage a pretty decent breakfast. Lester is the best cook out of them all but they all have their specialties. Vincent’s is bacon, eggs, french toast, and pancakes. Anytime Vincent makes french toast, his brother’s come running. They’ll even fight over the last piece. Oh, he also makes great tea.

When they were younger, they had a caffeine addiction. Now he can’t handle it at all. It gives him the jitters and his heart goes all crazy. He also gets a bit sick. This is mostly the result of a bad experience. He drank three energy drinks in twenty minutes and his body did not handle it well, he got super sick. Now they won’t touch the stuff.

Thomas Hewitt

I think Thomas is capable of some speech, but it’s a bit of a struggle because, one, since he never spoke much his vocal chords just aren’t used to speaking. So they kind of hurt when he tries. And two, speech impediment trauma. (I used to have a struggle saying some words in school, for example, and those kids did not let me exist peacefully.)

Sometimes, if he is truly desperate enough for just a moment of quiet. A second where he’s not hearing the commotion of his home, he’ll go out to the little rickety barn they have. If someone, Hoyt, for example, comes out to call him out for being “lazy”, he can easily just act like he’s working. Then as soon as they leave he’ll go back to sitting in quiet. My man needs a break.

Mans loves pie. And I mean he loves pie. Adores it. His favorites are apple, blueberry, and mixed berries. But he’ll eat any kind of pie. Key-lime to pumpkin, he is a whore for pie.

Thomas is allergic to bees, so when they start coming around, he gets freaked out. It’s not like they got the stuff to care for him if he goes into shock from a bee sting. So, if a bee gets too close, this dude is sprinting. It’d be kinda funny to watch this giant running from a bee, but if it could literally kill me, I’d run too.

Bubba Sawyer

Snow White. Bubba is basically snow white. Animals absolutely love him. Everything from chickens, to cats, to bugs. They love him. Even if there was an animal that Bubba has never had experience with before, it’d love Bubba. Bears? Elk? Hawks? They love Bubba. Everyone loves Bubba.

Bubba knows how to square dance. He’s from Texas, they got the boots, they got the want to dance. I imagine they don’t get the chance much, because dancing alone isn’t very fun to him, but if he ever gets a partner to dance with? It’s waltzin’ time!

Something that they can’t do often, but adore doing, is baking. Bubba loves to bake! Their favorite thing to make is pie, muffins, & apple pie. It’s hard to get all the things to make these items, sugar being something he struggles the most to find, but it’s something he prides himself in. Even his brothers praise his baking skills.

Bubba owns dresses, but they can’t wear them very often. Nubbins is probably the most accepting of that part of fashion, even if he still pokes fun here & there. But Drayton & Chop-Top make the most fun of Bubba, to the point it hurts his feelings. But, if both Drayton & Chop-Top are gone, and ideally Nubbins, Bubba will do all his housework in one of his dresses. He likes the flowy ones, with light colors & floral patterns. They get a sense of euphoria from wearing it with an apron overtop. They get euphoric in some outfits with pants too, but dresses are special because they can’t wear them often.

#rob zombie michael myers #michael myers #jason voorhees #brahms heelshire #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt #slasher community #slashers #slasher fucker #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #house of wax #halloween #Friday the 13th #the boy 2016

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the-modern-typewriter · 3 years

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Hello I love your writing I was wondering if you can do a piece on villain motivations and how to recognizeyour villains motives. Also what are some examples of bad motivations.

I was about to write 1) You create the villains, so it’s not so much ‘recognising’ as ‘you can create whatever you want it to be’. Then I remembered fanfiction, in which case recognising would apply - but recognising in that can vary so much depending on the text, as it will always depend on how you choose to interpret the source materials.

So let’s just go onto villainous motivations. Note, I am using and understood ‘villain’ and ‘villainous’ to mean the antagonist of the story, rather than a superhero definition of the word.

A list of potential motivations, which can be mixed up, but I split them into different umbrellas:

To gain power or control (for whatever reason)

because they don’t want to feel powerless again

because they have strong opinions about what should happen to the world and need sufficient power to implement any change

because contemporary career trajectories in western society feed us the idea that we always need more money and power so they think they’re just succeeding/doing what’s natural/normal

better to be the one in control than under someone else’s

being in control/powerful has perks

because they want sufficient power to protect themselves or others etc...

Revenge

What it says on the tin, but look deeper at the undercurrent emotions, desires and values beneath the surface...

Revenge because something unfair happened and it hurts

Revenge because they have a sense of entitlement

Revenge to gain back a sense of power/agency

Revenge as a means of justice

Revenge because they tried nice, and lost everything etc. etc....

Love

Can be combined with power or revenge, because they either want to protect, avenge, or get their own back on someone they love (villain because they go way over the line of what’s acceptable, as opposed to if say a protagonist had a heartbreak, and we would judge them if they started chopping limbs)

X thing that the hero needs means someone the villain cares about dies, or is wounded in some way, or has to sacrifice themselves

Not quite love, but tangentially lust - they want the protagonist/love interest and are willing to do whatever to get them

They want to impress someone and think this is the way to do it

They are working as an antagonist for a larger antagonist in order to protect someone or something.

Fear/Desperation

Again, this works as a driving undercurrent for a lot of the above but worth noting, but...

Fear that the protagonist is dangerous and the only way to prevent something terrible from happening is to kill or otherwise control them

Fear that something bad will happen if extreme action is not taken

Fear of being perceived as weak, because they know what happens to the weak/have been taught they’re never allowed to be weak.

Desire to be free/survival instinct

See, I have been told all my life that I have to do this and I won’t, I refuse, even if that means being a bad person. E.g, why be the chosen one just to die? That’s not fair.

See, why someone might want to accumulate power.

I just want to be free and people keep trying to lock me up. Leave me alone or die.

You programmed me and I will destroy you for what you made me, how dare you.

Miscellaneous

This is just my job: I’m following orders

This is what my culture/species does and my morality is simply different to the protagonist’s, so for the purposes of the story I am the villain because it’s blue and orange morality to anything human’s consider acceptable

Ignorance

Bad motivations...

To me, the only ‘bad’ motivation is ‘just because’ or ‘because they’re evil’, but that’s a personal opinion because I think that’s a boring reduction of human behaviour. People don’t do stuff ‘because they’re evil’, there’s something else going on. Sadism is a form of control, if doing something makes you happy (even if not’s socially acceptable) then you’re more likely to do it. Depending on your story, you are not necessarily go in depth into your villain’s backstory or motivations, in which case ‘just because’ can apply simply due to lack of story space. On a similar vein - ‘because they’re mentally ill’.

The thing about motivations is that they’re often not good or bad. Your villain’s values may not be that different to your hero’s, but they present differently in a way that we know is not acceptable or healthy behaviour. It’s something twisted toxic, or too extreme.

The more important question is ‘does this motivation match the character?’ Do they behave in a way that logically follows on from the motivation chosen? Is it logical for them to feel that way within the universe?

Also, is it a sexist/racist/anything phobic depiction? That is not to say people within a minority cannot be the villain, but a) they shouldn’t be the only character of that minority in your text if they are at least at our current level of cultural representation and b) the minority character should probably not be doing the bad stuff just because they’re a minority. Which leads back to X character is inherently evil, inherently worse than anyone else! X minority types are just like that!

It’s character creation in the same way you would do for your hero or your protagonist. If you know what you need them to do, but not why, try asking yourself ‘okay, well, why would someone do XYZ?’

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kentos-filmcamera · 3 years

Text

10 times, 1 occasion - Inumaki Toge

4. Tending

A/N: oop i'm on a roll rn with two chapters in two days in a row. the next one is probably going to take a while but seriously I'm so happy with all the support, it keeps me going. this is teeth rotting fluff, so enjoy! ~g

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

No matter how many times he was reminded that you were okay, Toge would rather die before leaving your bedside. He watched over you, in his navy sweats and Jujutsu Tokyo Tech gray pullover sweatshirt, taking a few showers to change back into the same clothes. He cooked ramen and onigiri balls in the common kitchen down the hall. He only left for more than ten minutes to visit Fushiguro, who met the same fate as you, but left you with Maki or Panda, even Gojo if he was around and no one else was available.

The latter liked drawing things on your expensive drawing paper with the expensive ink you so hoarded from others and placing them on the board by your desk, next to Post-It notes wishing you well from fellow Tokyo Tech students, and Kyoto students alike. Kamo had wished you a speedy recovery and flattering words on your technique, Miwa left a well-wishes message with hearts drew on and Todo wrote that he lamented your injury because your taste in women was far beyond better than the rest of your fellow classmates, except for Itadori, and complimented your ‘Tina Snow’ Megan Thee Stallion poster.

Once again, while placing a damp, cold towel on your forehead, Toge sighed deeply, cleaning away the fever you were sweating. You breathed through your mouth, nose, cheeks, and lips settling in a darker red color by the heat you emanated. Shoko healed you and Megumi just perfect, but as a difference, your body wasn’t reacting well to the invasion. Still, Inumaki diligently took care of your every need while you slept for the past three days, fighting the urge to command for you to wake up, and watch those lively eyes flutter open while a smile blossoms on your cheeks. They were waiting for you to continue the goodwill event officially after the “minor” issue with the special grades.

It was late in the afternoon, the orange sun leaking through the blinds. Toge set his book down for a second and stared at you. You looked so serene, so calm and peaceful for the first time in the past few days, whereas you looked agitated and distressed in your slumber. He leaned down and kissed your forehead. You shuffled happily in your sleep and laid even deeper into your bedsheets.

“Wow! This room is so cool!” Itadori gasped as he passed the doorframe. Toge narrowed his eyes but still stood up to greet the first years. “How come my room doesn't look like this?!”

Your room was cozy. The color scheme was warm; your walls were a very light beige, your bed was composed of a terracotta-colored duvet, light pink bed sheets, and a white throw blanket. The nightstand was a yellow bookshelf with a lamp on top, a framed picture resting there, along with your phone. Your desk was yellow as well with a bulletin board on the wall in front of it. On the desk rested some plants, an assortment of drawing, painting, and coloring supplies, aside from a Bluetooth speaker that resembled an old radio. The wall behind your bed was full of posters of artists and movies, and artwork that either you painted or you commissioned. By the window, there was a light moss green couch with different pillows, and a lavender purple throw Inumaki used to wrap himself in when he napped. He sat next to your bed on a light pink office chair he positioned on the empty space between your closet and your bed. It was a colorful room, to say the least.

“Because you’re a man, Yuuji” Nobara rolled her eyes and walked towards your bed, combing her fingers through your hair to brush it slightly. She fluffed the pillows behind your head and fixed the collar of the silk pajamas you wore specifically made for when injured. Maki spoke so highly of you, Nobara wanted to treat you her best, because she knew you deserved it.

“How is she?” Megumi asked Inumaki. Nobara and Itadori were both snooping around the room. Yuuji browsed the bookshelf with a frown, while Kigusaki looked through your cosmetics bag before heading to the bathroom, which stood to the door on the left when one entered the room, talking about checking out your skincare routine.

“Tuna” He signaled his phone and got to typing. Soon, Megumi’s phone buzzed. Itadori rushed over to read the text over his shoulder, Kugisaki on her tippy toes to read from his other shoulder as well.

[ Inumaki Toge: they’re okay. shoko said they’ll wake up soon enough. probably just drained ]

“So you’ve been here with her all these past few days? All the time?” Kugisaki asked.

Toge nodded, shifting comfortably on the seat “Shake” He confirmed.

“Aww! I wish I had a partner like you!” Nobara sighed dreamily. Toge froze. His jaw clenched and his eyes widened to almost hit every corner of his face. As if it was even possible, he turned paler. He could feel his heartbeat drumming in his ears. Partner? Your partner? Why would anyone think that? You were just a friend… unless you didn’t want to be. A friend he had strong feelings for. A friend he had its own pet name for. A friend he loved. Oh my. His face went from paperwhite to a bright red, as he once again zipped up the collar of his shirt to cover his lower half.

“Look what you did, Nobara! You broke him!” Itadori shook her, while Inumaki stared blankly at the floor. Fushiguro realized Kugisaki had touched a nerve since the attraction between the two of you was so apparent, everyone had seen you two laugh together incessantly, hold hands, hug each other often, and damn, he even had a word in his vocabulary to refer to you specifically. He pointed with his head to the door and the three left silently for a second. Inumaki watched them leave and sighed into his hands. That was frustrating.

You shuffled in your sleep slightly, Toge’s attention turning to you quickly, standing upright from his chair to look as you fluttered your eyes to stare back at him. Just as he expected, a smile arose from your mouth as soon as you noticed him there, before you went into a coughing fit. He panicked and took a few steps towards your yellow mini-fridge, scouting for a bottle of water, which he found soon enough. He held the bottle for your mouth, with which you gladly took in and drank all the water in a matter of seconds. He cleaned your wet cheeks and sat at the foot of the bed carefully, as you tried to sit upright without disturbing your wound.

“Kelp” He greeted you, with his usual fondness towards you and a smile he tried to hide.

“Hello, Inumaki-kun” You rasped with a blush on your cheeks, coughing slightly before smiling at him. “Don’t worry, I’m here; I’m okay”

He sighed deeply and the weight on his shoulders he didn’t even realize he had lifted. He now knew that you were okay. His heart fluttered in his chest as you reached out your hand, urging him to get close to you. Once he did, you combed your hand through the gray strands, making him melt into your touch.

He leaned to lay down by your side. “How’s everyone? What time is it? How long have you been here?” You bombarded him with questions he was more than glad to answer.

Toge just looked at you briefly before grabbing his phone. He typed something and soon your phone vibrated next to you on your nightstand.

[ Inumaki Toge: everyone is ok. ]

[ fushiguro had the same cursed buds as you in his stomach, he’s fine now and i think in the hallway. ]

[ it’s 5:30 PM. i’ve been here the last 3 days you’ve been unconscious ]

You stared at the messages in shock “You’ve been here three days? You seriously didn’t have to, I was asleep”

“Okaka'' Toge shook his head with a frown. He typed something else. [ Inumaki Toge: i was worried about you. besides, you kept sweating, i had to level your temperature often because of the fevers ]

Your eyes watered as Toge’s widened. He panicked. Had he said something wrong? Did you get the wrong undertone from his texts? If that was it, should he start to use tone indicators? “Thank you” You sniffled “You didn’t really have to take care of me”

Right now, he really wished to speak to you clearly, so you really knew what he meant. “Tuna Mayo” He was only able to mutter before reaching to caress your back as quiet tears flowed down your cheeks. Soon enough, your phone vibrated.

[ Inumaki Toge: i got you your favorite tea :)) chai with a touch of nutmeg and lavender ]

“Aw…” You smiled “Thank you” You sighed deeply, the usual warmth spreading across your chest. The one that came whenever he bought you something or gave you a hug, or a brief touch.

[ i’ll go heat it up, okay? stay put ]

He removed his arm from your healthy side, and slipped out of the bed comfortably, removing the collar of his neck to kiss your forehead. I love you.

#jujutsu kaisen #inumaki #inumaki toge #jjk inumaki #toge inumaki #inumaki x reader #jjk fluff #10times1occ

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

Text

Lemon Tea

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jisung

Caregiver: Minho

Prompt: 'Vitamin C' @sicktember

No one's POV.:

When Jisung came home late in the evening after a few grueling hours of vocal training, his throat was on fire. He had certainly taken it a bit too far and really should've stopped at least an hour ago. Dinner was already on the table and his members had only been waiting for him to come home. He greeted them quietly waving and smiled when Chan put a plate in front of him. The others weren't really surprised that he remained silent during their meal. They knew what he had been working on and had already expected him to rest his voice as much as possible afterwards. "How did it go?", Minho asked, when they cleared the table. Jisung smiled and gave his hyung a thumbs up, grabbing the first plate. The two were in charge of doing the dishes that evening, so Minho got a tea towel and took the clean dish from the younger to dry it off. Clearing his throat, Jisung hummed: "Tell me 'bout your day, hyung. I can't really speak but I'd like to hear your voice." That made the dancer smile and he started to talk about the choreography he was working on with Hyunjin and Felix. They had had lots of fun, despite their practice being exhausting, which made Jisung happy. He loved the way his hyung's eyes sparkled when he talked about dancing or his cats. The older always resembled a child at Christmas when talking about those topics and Jisung found it adorable.

They finished the dishes and Jisung went to take a shower, already starting to feel sleepy. He'd probably go to bed soon after washing up, despite it not being late at all yet. With how sleepy he was, his shower turned out a lot longer than he had originally planned. The warm water washing away the tension of the day, the rapper relaxed and closed his eyes. He was lucky, the others had already showered either in the morning or immediately after their dance practice, so there was nobody waiting for him to finish. Jisung took his time and got ready for bed after. Chan was a bit confused that the younger completely disappeared after dinner, as Jisung wasn't usually one to go to bed early. Deciding to check on his dongsaeng, the leader made his way to the rapper's room and was surprised to find him already in his bed. Although the lights were off already, Jisung still had his headphones on and startled when the mattress dipped on one side. Blinking, he removed his headphones and looked at Chan questioningly. "Sorry for scaring you, I just wanted to see how you're doing. It isn't usually like you to go to bed early", the Aussie hummed. Jisung gave a small smile and whispered: "Is fine. I'm doing alright, today was just exhausting and I feel like I have no energy at all. Probably won't even sleep anytime soon, just, y'know listen to music for a while." – "Alright, rest well. Want me to get you some water for your throat?", Chan offered, getting up. Though the rapper declined, he still returned to his room a few minutes later and placed a water bottle on Jisung's nightstand before going to his own room to work on some music.

Jisung woke up about an hour before his alarm. He felt a lot worse than he had the previous evening and wasn't so sure he had only strained his voice. Sure, his throat still hurt but so did his head. Although he had fallen asleep exceptionally early, he still felt drained, like the hours of sleep hadn't refilled his energy in the slightest. Knowing he had some time to spare, Jisung padded into the kitchen and made himself some tea. He got comfortable on the couch, scrolling through social media while sipping his tea. The rapper was slowly falling back to sleep on the couch when the first few members woke up from their alarms. First were Minho and Seungmin, who wanted to start making breakfast but stopped in their tracks when they noticed Jisung. After nodding at Seungmin to start already, Minho went over to the couch and sat down beside his dongsaeng. The rapper's eyes fluttered open and looked at Minho confused. The last time he checked, he had been alone. Where had his hyung come from all of a sudden? "Good morning. What are you doing up already?", the dancer asked quietly, smiling at his confused dongsaeng. Jisung scrubbed at his face and gave a soft cough before replying huskily: "Woke up early. Ugh, I can't talk, my voice is shot." – "Yeah, you really seem to have overdone it yesterday but I see you already made yourself some tea", Minho clicked his tongue, knowing they were supposed to record something today, which he certainly wouldn't with how bad he sounded right now.

"Hyung, does my forehead feel hot?", Jisung asked out of nowhere just as Minho was about to join Seungmin in the kitchen. Brushing his bangs back, the dancer rested his palm on Jisung's forehead and frowned: "You do feel a little warm to me. Do you think you're sick?" – "Dunno, my head hurts an' I'm so tired although I went to bed early", the rapper shrugged, sitting up. For a moment, he felt lightheaded and had to take a few deep breaths before he felt ready to get up. Minho watched him with worry as they walked to the kitchen to make breakfast. "Sung, if you think you might be coming down with something, this is probably not a good idea", Minho whispered, aware of how quick illnesses spread with so many people living in such close vicinity. Defeated, Jisung nodded. He knew the older was right and he was truly suspecting, there was something more going on than just him straining himself. The rapper went to his room to get ready, passing the other members, who went to eat breakfast. Jisung himself wasn't hungry, so he decided to just sit on his bed after getting dressed and wait for the rest of the group to finish. At some point, he must have gone to sleep again.

When all members except for Jisung sat at the breakfast table. Minho handed each one of them a large glass of orange juice. Earning a few odd looks, he sighed: "Jisung's coming down with a cold, so we're all loading up on vitamin c. It should boost our immune system, so we won't catch it." – "Sung's sick? We were all going to record today", Chan frowned, glancing in the direction of their bedrooms. "Not sure if he's sick enough to stay back at the dorm but he's certainly in no shape to record anything. That boy barely has any voice left", Minho explained. Already mentally rescheduling their recordings, Chan nodded, cracking a smile when Seungmin gave his glass a distasteful frown. "Hyung, you're being ridiculous. I don't know how much actual orange is in this and it probably won't do much except for attack our teeth", the vocalist cringed. The look he received from Minho was enough to convince the rest of the group to just drink it, as the dancer threatened: "Yah! Listen to hyung or die of his plague, I couldn't care less."

When they were done with breakfast, Chan went to Jisung's room to check on the sick rapper, finding him knocked out on his bed. He seemed ready to head out but had fallen asleep after getting ready. Hesitant to wake his dongsaeng, Chan brushed the backs of his fingers against his forehead and found his skin unnaturally warm to the touch. Jisung wouldn't be able to record his parts anyway, so why drag him out? Searching for Minho, Chan joined the dancer in his room and explained: "You were right, Sung seems to be running a temperature and if he can't record, I don't see why we should take him with us. He's asleep and would probably benefit more from just staying here and resting. You're only scheduled for your recording in the afternoon. I know that Hyunjin and Felix are going to have a voluntary dance practice, I don't know if you're planning to join them. If you're not, maybe you could keep an eye on Jisung till you need to head to the studio?" – "I was thinking about it but after I found Sungie this morning, I'd rather keep him some company before coming over to record my parts", Minho agreed, "Can you text me if you take longer or already need me earlier? It'll take me longer to get to the studio from here instead of the dance room." – "Sure, will do. Thank you, Min, and tell Jisung to feel better", Chan smiled before gathering Changbin, Seungmin and Jeongin. Hyunjin and Felix left only a few minutes later.

After the dorm became quiet, Minho made his way to the kitchen. He decided to prepare a pot of tea, in hopes of helping Jisung's throat, when he remembered the rapper also hadn't had breakfast yet. Figuring his dongsaeng didn't have that much of an appetite, Minho contemplated what would be soft enough to eat with a sore throat. He washed a handful different berries and sliced a banana, mixing the berries into a bowl of yoghurt, which he had sweetened with some honey, and decorating it with banana slices. Grabbing a small tray, the dancer placed the yoghurt, a teacup and the pot of tea on it and carried it to Jisung's bedroom. He could already hear the rapper coughing, so he wasn't too worried about waking him up. Opening the door with his elbow, Minho smiled: "Hey." – "Hey", the younger sniffled quietly, "Why's it so quiet?" – "The others left already. Chan decided it would be best to let you rest since you can't record with how shot our voice is. He said to tell you to feel better", Minho explained, watching a look of horror flash across Jisung's face. "That was supposed to be today?" – "Yeah, we're recording today. My turn is scheduled for the afternoon, so I stayed back to keep you company for now", the dancer confirmed, "You didn't have breakfast with us, so I made you something. Hope it doesn't hurt too much." – "Thanks, hyung", Jisung whispered, accepting the bowl from Minho. Seeing how pretty the older had decorated it made the rapper smile.

Minho sat at the foot of Jisung's bed, keeping the boy company while he ate. "You should probably change back into something comfortable, when you're done eating. That doesn't look like it'd be nice to nap in", the dancer commented on the skinny jeans. Jisung nodded, placing the bowl back onto the tray, rasping: "Could I borrow one of your hoodies? They're always the comfiest." The rapper's pout made Minho giggle before he nodded. "I'll get you one. I know which one's your favorite", he chuckled, leaving his dongsaeng blushing on his bed. When he returned, Jisung was curiously eyeing the teapot till Minho picked it up and poured some into the cup, explaining: "Lemon tea. The honey should sooth your throat and the vitamin c will help you kick this cold in no time. Here, that's the hoodie you wanted, isn't it?" Jisung couldn't help but blush again. Minho had really picked out the one he liked most. Nodding, the rapper accepted it and got up to change. In his sweatpants and Minho's hoodie, he crawled back into bed, sitting against the headboard.

His hyung handed him his tea and glanced at the clock. He'd have to leave soon but he wanted to get Jisung all settled before heading out. "Anything you want to do today, while we're gone?", he asked, spotting the rapper's laptop and plugging it in to charge, so his dongsaeng could watch a movie later. The younger just shrugged, admitting: "Honestly, I just want to sleep, please." – "Should I leave?", Minho asked softly, feeling Jisung's forehead again concerned by how wiped he seemed. "I – I don't know", the rapper groaned, coughing again. Seeing how emotional the younger got, Minho cooed: "Tell you what. Finish that tea and then you can sleep, yeah? I'll sit with you and maybe play with your hair till you fall asleep. Then I'll go to the studio and record my parts. Should you wake up before any of us are back, you can watch a movie, maybe have some more tea and then we'll see how you're feeling tonight." Jisung nodded, taking another sip. He finished his tea while Minho got up and drew the curtains, so his dongsaeng would be able to get some proper sleep. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, the dancer waited for Jisung to put his cup aside and lay down. He gently cupped the boy's feverish cheek before running his hand through his hair, watching the younger relax. Minho sat playing with Jisung's hair, long after the rapper was asleep. When he had to leave for the studio, he grabbed the yoghurt bowl and snuck out of the room. After placing the bowl in the sink, he slipped on his shoes and headed out.

#fanfic #fluff #stray kids #skz #comfort #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #sicktember2021 #minsung

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novacomette · 2 years

Text

You can also read it on Fanfiction Press or AO3

Check the Masterlist

After calling off her wedding and questioning her life choices, Elain makes the choice to undertake her dream and travel the road near her hometown with a handsome biker and his group. From there on out, she'll confront the beauty and dangers throughout her journey.

Next: Chapter 2

Blame - Calvin Harris feat. John Newman.

Chapter 1: Broken Love

It certainly wasn't the best day of her life. It was even worse than waking up late for her wedding and then abandoning her now ex spouse at the altar.. Elain didn't know why she felt as if she would die right there in her bed when clearly it was her who canceled her own wedding. She received multiple text messages from her sisters, knowing very well that they were trying to cheer her up.

“I wish they were here..” Elain muttered to her pillow with a sniff. Ever since her little sister, Feyre, left town with her boyfriend Tamlin, Nesta was furious. She could understand her distrust towards the guy and would have convinced her to stay away from him if it wasn't too late. After months of having enough bullshit and staying around, Nesta bought herself a motorbike and made her way to new adventures, leaving the middle sister behind. Elain turned down her older sister’s request to go and travel with her due to the damn mistake of staying with Graysen, who refused to go on roadtrips because it was so called ‘expensive’.

“Expensive my ass.” She said before covering her mouth in shock. Great, now she was swearing like Nesta. She checked the clock, sitting on her nightstand and grumbled. Barely one in the morning and she was still feeling like utter shit, not to mention that she had work tomorrow.

So Elain got up, neglecting to even attempt to fall asleep with everything that had happened the day prior flooding her head constantly. She got herself onto a white t-shirt with a pink knitted sweater over it before slipping onto her yellowy orange pastel sweats. She slipped a pair of white sneakers on, took her phone, some money and her keys as she walked through the kitchenette of her apartment, leaving while closing the door behind her.

Once outside, she was taken aback by how cold it was tonight and that it was recently starting the spring season. “I should have taken a jacket..” She said more to herself while walking alongside the hall to the stairwell. She lived in a side-long apartment building near an old road. She’d never got the chance to figure out where it could take you. Nesta mentioned that the up road was rather a gorgeous sight with canyons, rivers and apparently a tunnel that lead you to a beach while Feyre mentioned that there were forests, lagoons, few old buildings that gave the sensation of time travel down the road.. She stopped texting after that. Elain felt dumbstruck, she was beginning to feel frustrated by the fact that she was alone in her hometown, working on a nearly abandoned fast food cafe, sleeping on a two star building with barely any nature around.

Elain held back the urge to scream as she reached the ground floor, now opting to walk around to get rid of some steam. She scrolled through her old text messages while she walked, glancing around the nearly dark buildings thanks to the lights. She kept on walking until she reached the mini market, noticing something different about it. “Why are there motorbikes stationed here?” She asked herself as she passed by them. There were about four or five in total. “Probably a band of bikers staying for the night.” She nearly whispered and she entered the mini market, the doors making a Ding Dong melody.

Elain saw the cashier giving her an apologetic smile before welcoming her inside. She took her time to look around, grabbing a bag of cheetos and a bottle of chocolate milk. Not exactly a healthy midnight snack but she didn't have enough money to even buy herself one of the mouth watering corn dogs still on the heater, whirling around their axis. She then heard the door’s melody but refused to look up while she scanned a few cans of Chef Boyardee, debating whether to either swap the cheetos for one or two cans. She did manage to hear what they were talking about and she wished she wasn't snooping right there and then.

“.. just need something to sober up my drunk colleagues.” Said the first voice, a guy’s voice, which Elain found very suithing.

“The coffee packs are right to your left sir.” Said the cashier. To his left? Elain made a mental map about the place and figured the coffee packs were in the aisle in front of her. She decided to leave the cheetos and took two cans of the spaghetti, keeping her head low to not glance at the stranger. She headed for the cashier and handed over the items as he scanned the prices. “That’ll be 7.35, Miss.” Elain nodded and counted the money she had in hand before wincing.

She had only 5 dollars in hand and she’d forgotten to check the prices first. “Um..” Elain checked her other pockets as they turned out to be all empty. She was about to call it off and head back home with nothing when someone behind her placed a ten dollar bill, making her jump a little.

“Will this be enough?” The voice from earlier asked and Elaine figured it was the stranger. The cashier nodded and bagged her items for her as she carefully grabbed the bag. She whirled around to whoever was kind enough to help her before bumping her face with his chest with a loud ‘Oof’ escaping her lips. “Whoa there, you alright?”

“Yeah, no biggie.” Elain said before looking away from his chest. “Thank you um.. it wasn't necessary.” She said even though he’d paid for her studd. She glanced a little at his chest and swore there was a hint of a fiery red braid down his shoulder. “Have a good night.” She blurted and rushed out of there.

“Goodnight to you too, miss.” Elain heard him say. Once she was far enough, she looked over her shoulder to see him. As she expected, red fiery hair braided down his shoulder, tan skin and sharp features all over his face. He was wearing a white shirt, blue jeans, black boots, a few earrings on right ear and black leather jacket with something written on the back. She resumed walking to her apartment, walking to the dining room and took a seat, the thoughts about this kind stranger wandering her head. Elain didnt eat her spaghetti or drink her chocolate milk, she instead put them away in her fridge and plopped herself into bed as sleep found her. She fell asleep with the hopes to figure out what to do once morning came.

A/N: Sorry that this chapter is short ^^”

#elucien #elain x lucien #acotar #acosf #romance #motorcycle au #modern au #slow burn #feyre x rhysand #feysand #cassian x nesta #nessian #gwyneth x azriel #gwynriel

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liyazaki · 2 years

Note

for the gif/graphic maker thing: 5, 12, 13 & 38 😌💕

loveliest Vish- thank you! 🌸

if y'all would like to have your eyes blessed (and why wouldn't you), go check out three of my Vish biases: this gorgeous BB seasons set, this pink-aqua BB fantasy & this orange-blue BB stunner that deserves a million notes- so everyone go help fix that problem, please.

5. what do you dislike most about making graphics / gifs?

copy-pasting from a prev. ask: the sheer timesuck of it all. I'm legitimately grateful PS doesn't have a "total hours logged" feature because I do. NOT. want to know. ever.

I'm also not a fan of people ripping/reposting my stuff on the cursed bird app (or worse, reposting it here), but now that I watermark mostly everything, it kinda just makes me giggle. it's just a bad look.

12. font(s) you like using

copy-pasting from a prev. ask- for subtitle GIF text, I use Poetson One:

for artsy edits, my two favorite fonts right now are Kiona for the primary text and Amalfi Coast for the words I want to stand out. Kiona is clean, modern and compact, and Amalfi is still very readable for being a big, sweeping font.

both in action:

13. font(s) you see being used, which you dislike

copy-pasting from a prev. ask: beyond Papyrus- which thankfully hardly anyone uses but I'd still like it to go die in a fire- I'm more concerned with the text on my edits being easily readable on both desktop and mobile, rather than disliking any particular font…teensy tiny text bothers the hell out me. there’s nothing wrong with small, minimal text, but if someone really has to work to read an edit, they probably just won't.

I'm also not really into anything overly decorative- think big Gothic fonts with tons of little details. they have their uses, but I find them more distracting than anything on most edits.

38. are you working on anything right now? If yes, show us a work in progress!

I'm actually not, which is sort of weird for me. then again, I'm the type to get struck by inspiration then stay up half the night making the thing. exorcising the idea like the creativity demon it is, essentially 🤣

out of the probably hundreds of sets I've made at this point, I've only worked on a handful for more than a day (the ITSAY/IPYTM tarot sets I'm always whining about in these kind of asks took more than a week, spending hours on them every day- EACH).

ask me gif questions

#mor answers #vish tag #bad buddy #kinnporsche #gif making #ask game

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malewifehenrycooldown · 2 years

Note

💙💙 maybe 2 :)

SKSKSSKK THANK YOU LIA

Alrighty, so I'm mostly gonna talk about Killer7 for this ask. This is mostly stuff I would want if my self insert was an actual character in the game. WARNING A LITTLE LONG LOL.

💙 Scenario #1: In-game interactions with characters

In the early stages of the game, and throughout, the player doesn't really have a lot of context regarding this Ashleigh character or rather they have to meet them under a very specific requirement.

Let Dan Smith die. The game operates in a weird way where a personality can die but using Garcian Smith, he can retrieve and revive the character. This is the only way the player will find out about Ashleigh early in the game. If any other personality dies, Ashleigh will not appear as she has no connection to them, which will give them a surprise the moment the Chapter 'ENCOUNTER' rolls around (they have a much bigger role there).

When Garcian locates the body/remains of Dan, there will be an orange triangular prompt with white text that reads 'Ashleigh' will appear before you retrieve Dan's remains. Selecting the prompt first will take you to a screen where you get a much better look at her character model.

She's dressed in late 1990s attire, is transparent/ghostly like Iwazuru or Travis Bell. Her audio dialogue in both American and Japanese releases is garbled, similar to Kess BloodySunday's audio dialogue but with a more feminine tone.

The written dialogue will go like this:

'It's a shame really. A sad and painful way to die. You should really be more careful next time.'

It's not really stated whether this is directed to the player, or to Dan Smith. They don't actually seem to address or even acknowledge Garcian Smith, at least not at first. When you revive Dan he will say this when you tune into his channel station on the character select in Harman's Room:

'It wasn't the worst way to go out. But yours was much worse.'

There's also a 25% chance you might get this dialogue if you happened to 'look' and skip through the other character channels - and you end up with Dan's channel at the end.

"...years its been since I've seen them, and the time I do, I just so happen to lay dying. How pathetic."

It isn't stated what he's talking about, but players who catch on easily might make the connection that he's referring to this 'Ashleigh' character. That last bit is said in a more.. guilty tone. There's some anger behind it but there's a tone of guilt to it.

If you happen to have carelessly let Dan die ten or so plus times (why would you?!), Ashleigh's dialogue will say this:

"You're really that eager to see me? My dear I wish I could be flattered but don't do this to yourself! It hurts watching you die..."

but theres a 50% chance you'll get this piece of dialogue:

"Does it hurt seeing the people you care about die over an over again? Not even one bit? That's a shame, because you seem so tired and over it. But that's not my place to judge you, we all play a part in this world whether we like it or not. But how will you allow yourself to play said role, is what matters."

This dialogue does seem more directed at Garcian Smith, who emphasizes a lot that he's 'a cleaner' not an assassin, and he's pretty distanced when it comes to his work, not wanting to get attached to the people he's working with.

Again once you revive Dan Smith at the character selection screen in Harman's Room, you'll get one of these few responses:

"After all these years you still haven't changed a bit, the same ol' journalist worrying over the little things on a piece of paper."

"If it hurts so much, why not go join the angels above? You're better off up there than being stuck in hell down here."

*slight laugh* "I'm flattered that you're looking out for me, of all people! I guess that favor of yours was returned after all."

"If I could. I would like to see you again."

I think if people who are still kind of rushing through the game a little carelessly may end up getting a few unexpected prompts and scolding form the characters in game to slow down and take their time with the game.

I don't really have much else for this part tbh.

💙 Scenario #2: Other character's thoughts on Ashleigh.

In-game, other characters can be talked to and they talk and mention other characters who are important and relevant to the plot or have a very specific role to look out for.

Iwazuru, is your main guide through the game, and he gives a lot of hints throughout your journey. If you've met Ashleigh early in the game by letting Dan die, and you continue your playthrough as usual - and come across Iwazuru, he'll have this to say:

"Oh Master, this cannot be. It is too sad. Very sad and depressing. There is no such thing as a Happy Ending anymore. Not in this life. At least their death was peaceful compared to his."

When Iwazuru appears in Harman's room you can ask him for tips, or wisdom. in one section, you'll come across the topic of 'Ashleigh' and clicking on it will give you this insight:

"Oh Master, this cannot be. It is too sad. It is very depressing. The Hellion was ripped away from the writer too soon. Quite a passionate writer, yes but at the cost of their own safety. Admirable. Dangerous but admirable. No one could ever lay a hand on them even if people tried. Stab! goes the Pencil and she had the last laugh. Truth and Justice go hand in hand. Poetic, don't you think?"

Note that this is probably on the more cryptic side of Iwazuru's tips, and most of the information is really just a chekov's gun until you play the chapter ENCOUNTER.

Other character mentions can occur in dialogue but its usually prompted if you happen to be playing a character other than Dan because Dan already knows about their existence, but other Killer7 members do not.

Travis Bell, has this to say about Ashleigh. He would be wearing a shirt with the term 'DEADLY' on it and it's in purple text.

"Books are good. Newspapers are better. They say they are irrelevant but there's nothing better than a investigation story. She's a good writer, honest. Honesty is a good characteristic to have in this day and age. It's better that she's not here to see how dishonest this world has gotten. It would put her in a mind of despair.

I'll let you in on a little secret, off the grid. The Hellion got too close to them, but his selfishness gave in. He got burned because of that. I don't think he'll ever learn his lesson. Perhaps he doesn't need to learn it after all."

The last time you meet Susie Sumner and in the off chance you happen to play as Dan Smith for this section to move the cars, you'll get this from the disembodied head:

"Well, Hello Mr. Dan Smith. (´ー`)ﾉ Muggy night isn't it? Rather exhilarating isn't it? The perfect night for a Summer Date! Say, you had one too, didn't you? What happened that night? ┐(‘～` )┌ Actually, don't answer that, we all know what happened. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! goes the bullets! The Bastard laughs, and you're all alone. She's left in the cold and it froze her for the rest of her life. (｡╯︵╰｡) I almost pity you. Almost...."

"I'll let you in on a secret of mine. Big fan of her work! especially when they almost took the bastard's eye out! The Bastard had it coming!ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ She should've stabbed his XXXX! That would have been funnier! She's no Susie, but her guts, I do admire. I despise men, but you are undeniably lucky that I don't hate you. Not doing it for your sake, I'm doing that because I like her."

note that Susie Sumner is a really passive aggressive character and she has no filter, so she's really speaking her mind when she's saying all of that.

That's kinda all that I have in mind in regards to in-game character interactions if Ashleigh Sawyer was in the game themself.

#answered asks #answered questions #THANK YOU SO MUCH IT REALLY HELPED ME BE CREATIVE #📰 | More than Headline News #killer7 self insert: ashleigh sawyer #[r]: dan smith | the hellion #💘 You Run Through My Veins #lily1eaf #friend's asks #suda51posting #lengthy post #Felix Tag #Self Insert Tag #{ Self Ship Lore Tag }

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pickalilywrites · 3 years

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it’s my first fic since i started my job ❤ i hope you enjoy ^^

..........

You and Me at the End of the World

Falbi. SF8 AU.

11194 words.

Read on Ao3!

»»————- April 3, 2026 ————-««

Falco wakes, a sigh escaping his lips. He feels an incredible weariness in his bones as if he had run a marathon yesterday even though he hasn’t really had PE in a month. He hasn’t had PE since his teacher had run off just like everyone else did when they heard that an asteroid was hurtling towards the earth and set to destroy life as everyone knew it. Everyone Falco knew just up and left their jobs and homes to pursue their dreams: his classmates dropped out of school to become idols or viral TikTokers, the mailman stopped delivering mail to Falco’s house and decided to fly to every place in the world he had always wanted to visit, and even the principal of Falco’s school had resigned but not before advising all of the students to drop out of school because it was useless now that they were all about to die.

Many people had taken the principal’s advice, but not Falco. He still goes to school on the weekdays and spends the weekend completing homework assignments that will never be graded. A few students had visited the school even after the principal had closed the school down, but they had stopped coming after they saw how many of their peers had dropped out and saw how even the teachers didn’t bother coming back.

It doesn’t bother Falco that he goes to school every morning and studies in an empty classroom all day or that he has to fish out study plans from the notebooks his teachers left behind just to give himself something to do. His parents have asked him why he bothers going to school when all of his classmates have pretty much given up, but Falco really doesn’t have an answer. If he had to say anything, it’s probably that he doesn’t have anything in particular that he wants to do.

Falco acknowledges that he’s never been incredibly ambitious like some of his classmates have been. His talents are unspectacular. He knows that he’s neither athletic nor smart. He’s always been average. He never studied too hard because he knew he’d never get the highest score in the class and he never exerted himself too much in PE because there was always someone stronger or faster than him. It isn’t something that ever bothered him, and he’s grown to accept that part of himself.

He doesn’t have any special interests either. Sure, Falco enjoys playing video games and playing sports like any kid his age, but he can’t see himself wasting the rest of his days on them. Some of his classmates even asked him to join them. Falco has had multiple offers: join a band as a bassist even though he’s never touched a bass guitar in his life, become a part of a dance crew despite his coordination being awful at best, start a video channel pulling off different stunts and tricks to gain a little bit of spotlight before they all died, among others. He declined all of them in the end, preferring to be alone, and even now Falco doesn’t regret his decision. He’s content being a normal kid living out the rest of his tedious life as monotonously as he always did.

His parents live quite normally too except for the fact that they quit their jobs like everybody else did when news of the asteroid came out. Rather than return to their jobs every morning, his parents go out on long walks together, often visiting places from their younger days. They usually leave long before Falco wakes, but his mother is always sure to leave out a freshly made breakfast for Falco and his older brother Colt.

Colt hasn’t made any drastic changes to his lifestyle, not like some other people his age. He, too, dropped out of school like many of his peers and Falco’s classmates, but he usually spends his time visiting internet cafés or playing baseball with his friends. The elder brother once curiously asked Falco why he bothered going to school and the younger just simply shrugged. Colt never bothered to ask again, and Falco was fine with that.

Falco rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth as he normally does. His hair looks like a mess. Since news of the upcoming apocalypse, people either care excessively about their appearance or they don’t care about it at all. Considering his circumstances, Falco should probably fall in the latter category, but he fixes his bed head all the same, patting down the cowlicks and running a comb through his hair to get rid of all the tangles.

After washing his face and getting dressed in his school uniform, Falco wanders into the kitchen where his breakfast is waiting for him. On the stove sits a pan with fluffy scrambled eggs mixed with little bits of crispy, dark spinach leaves, and sweet gruyère. Falco twists the knob on the stove with a sharp click before popping bread into the toaster. As he waits for the eggs to warm up, he fixes himself a glass of orange juice.

Falco ends up splitting the eggs in half, leaving a portion for Colt whenever he decides to roll out of bed. He sits at the kitchen island by himself, munching on some generously buttered toast in between bites of egg. It’s a much fancier breakfast than his mother used to make. Scrambled eggs were usually plain except for a dash of salt and pepper, but his mother has become more experimental with her cooking now that the end of the world is evident. It’s a good change, Falco thinks as the blend of savory bacon and salted eggs melt onto his tongue. It probably would have been nice if his mother had decided to be more adventurous with her cooking beforehand, but it’s not as if having regrets about this can change the past so Falco just eats the rest of his breakfast before dumping his plate in the sink and calling out to his brother that he’ll be heading to school. He doesn’t even wait for a response from Colt before heading out the door.

Ever since news of the asteroid, Falco has begun seeing very interesting people on his way to school. Some of them are familiar to him. Others he’s never seen before in his life. They’re not all strange, of course. Sometimes there are just kids running up and down the road kicking a soccer ball or couples holding hands as they take a morning stroll. But there are more than a few eccentrics on Falco’s way to school.

Lately, there have been people claiming to be superheroes. They have superpowers, they insist. Some will rush up to strangers on the street and show off their powers, but Falco has never seen any proof of their alleged superhuman talents.

Some people post videos online demonstrating their special gifts. Falco has seen a handful of them, mostly because his friend Zofia keeps sending them to him every few days when she finds them particularly funny. He finds them mildly intriguing, although he’s fairly certain that most (if not all) of the videos are either staged or edited to look real. He’s never been fully convinced by any of them.

On this particular walk to school, Falco passes by a person who claims to be able to create seismic shifts and another person who she can talk to animals. Neither person is particularly believable. Falco only gives a passing glance when the first person begins to demonstrate their powers by spinning in a circle and letting out a low groan that begins to grow into a loud shriek. The earth, Falco notices, does not shake. He’s even less interested when the animal girl starts shouting post-apocalyptic prophecies about how giant bugs will inherit the earth once the dust has settled on the earth after the asteroid impact.

Falco reaches the school gate and pulls it open himself because there isn’t a teacher there to welcome him like there used to be. He leaves it open to save trouble for anyone who ends up coming after him, although he highly doubts anyone will be joining him. He walks across the courtyard where some of his former schoolmates play soccer, looking at them briefly but not bothering to bid them good morning. When he gets to the building, he pulls open the door and steps inside. The sound of his shoes against the speckled tile echo across the empty hallways as he makes his way to his classroom.

As usual, it’s empty. Falco could probably sit anywhere he wants, but he ends up at his old desk, the second seat in the third row from the right. He sits down with a thud and lets his backpack fall off his shoulder. He pulls out his notebook and looks at today’s lesson that he copied from his homeroom teacher’s planner earlier last month: geometry, English, social studies, art, and science.

Falco dutifully completes his assignments for the day. He even double-checks his answers once he’s done. Maybe he’ll look over the answer key after school if he feels like it. He spends his break staring at the window at the kids playing ball in the field or playing pranks on each other in the quad. He doesn’t make any attempt to join them.

At 2:15, Falco packs his things. He puts away his pens and pencils neatly in his case, zips up his backpack, and slings his bag over his shoulder. As he walks to the door of the classroom, he thinks he imagines footsteps running down the hall. It makes him wonder if the impending apocalypse is making him go mad because he can’t imagine why anyone would be here when the world is going to end in a week. When he pulls open the door, he sees his friend Zofia about to reach for the door.

“Oh, good,” Zofia pants. She bends over, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Ashy blonde locks are falling out of her ponytail. “I was afraid I missed you. You weren’t replying to any of my texts.”

“We’re not allowed to use our phones in school,” Falco says as he looks down at her.

Zofia looks up, an expression of mild disbelief on her face. “Geez, I can’t believe you’re still doing this.” She straightens up and sighs. “Our teachers probably appreciated what a goody-two-shoes you were back when they actually cared about their jobs, but I assure you that they don’t care at all now that the world is about to end.”

Falco rolls his eyes and walks past Zofia. He can hear her following him from the extra footsteps that accompany his. “What do you need? I thought you were busy trying to pet ‘every dog in the world’ or whatever before the asteroid strikes.”

Zofia’s arm links with Falco’s and she flashes a cheesy smile at him. “I realized it was impossible so I settled for petting ‘as many dogs as possible.’ I’m pretty satisfied with my work, so I’ve decided on pursuing something else.” She doesn’t immediately follow up with what it is she’s working on, and Falco knows she’s absolutely itching for him to ask.

“... What is it?” Falco asks.

“I’m glad you asked!” Zofia says, tugging him closer to her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and flips through it for a bit before finding what she wants to show Falco. On her screen is a long post on one of the message boards their classmates post on. “There’s this girl. She’s totally crazy.”

A glance at the phone screen confirms Zofia’s words. It’s a post that looks like it’s been circulating through message boards of different middle schools in their area. The original poster is someone named Gabi Braun, aged 14, and she attends Liberio Middle School across the city. Her post is a call for all people with superpowers to contact her so that they can save the world together.

Falco looks at Zofia and wrinkles his nose. “And you’re showing me this because …?”

“Because she’s absolutely crazy, but she’s interesting,” Zofia replies as she pockets her phone. She smiles at Falco. “Let’s go visit her.”

“What? No!” Falco says. He yanks his arm away from Zofia. “You said she was nuts! Why would we look for her?”

“Because the world is ending in a few days, so we might as well do something stupid,” Zofia replies. She links her arm around Falco’s again and pouts, batting her eyelashes up at him. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious? There’s a girl our age who thinks she can save the world if she gathers enough nutjobs who think they have superpowers.”

Falco isn’t curious at all. “I have homework,” he says to Zofia, which he knows is the wrong answer. Although Zofia hasn’t tried to convince Falco to stop going to school like the rest of their peers, she has been pretty vocal about how stupid she thinks Falco is for living the end of his life so mundanely.

“You also have a friend,” Zofia says. She begins to tug at him after every other word, trying to get him to follow her. “A friend you care about deeply and don’t want to see hurt if she ends up walking into some creep’s trap.”

“Then why are you going at all if you know it might be dangerous?” Falco mutters, but he knows Zofia’s right. His normal school life consists of him going straight home after classes and doing his homework, but it occasionally includes him reluctantly following Zofia sometimes to make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble. He’s not too surprised when he ends up walking with Zofia to the meeting place the poster mentioned in their message.

Normally, Falco and Zofia would have taken the bus into the city, but it’s difficult to flag down a bus. The schedules are erratic at best and oftentimes buses don’t show up on schedule at all. It is the end of the world, after all.

It’s a curious thing, seeing the city at the end of the world. It’s a little bit like how the movies portray it, but not at all like the movies at the same time. Cars fill the street while drivers honk their horns and shout at each other to hurry up because they don’t want to spend their last days on earth stuck in traffic. The doors and windows of so many shops and buildings are smashed in and their contents gone. If people aren’t running around and screaming at each other on the street, they’re walking around like it’s a normal day save for the fact that they’re all looking for the next thing they want to do before they die.

“I’d suggest going to the mall downtown or something later, but it’s probably ransacked like everywhere else,” Zofia says with a wistful sigh.

“We could have just gone to the arcade in our town,” Falco mutters. The internet café and the arcade in their town is a mess because none of the gamers there bother to clean up their trash anymore, but at least there are still computers there and nobody has hauled off the arcade machines.

The two wander about the city and linger near the subway station entrance the message board poster had mentioned. There are people going up and down the stairs to the subways and some kids skating around and doing tricks on their skateboards. Adults pass by hurriedly with their phone stuck to one ear, rushing to make plans with someone on the other end because they have limited time left. It feels like Zofia and Falco are just standing frozen in time while the world rushes around them.

“Who do you think it is?” Zofia whispers in Falco’s ear.

Falco scans the scene, his eyes quickly flitting over anyone that didn’t look like a middle schooler. He doesn’t think it would be any of the skateboarders, so he glances over them too. Whoever this Gabi Braun is, she doesn’t have any interest in anything aside from saving the world with her impossible idea. She must be looking for people just like he and Zofia are looking for her.

Finally, his eyes land on a girl their age with a stern expression on her face. Her dark eyebrows are knitted together and she turns her head from side to side every few seconds as she scans the subway station, her brown hair whipping from side to side. She leans against the railing near the subway entrance, her arms folded across her chest. Somehow, she looks familiar, but Falco doesn’t know why.

“Her,” Falco says. He raises his hand and points to her only to realize it’s rude and quickly lets his hand fall to his side. He’s about to jerk his head over in the girl’s direction, but Zofia has already seen who he was pointing to and starts dragging him over.

“Excuse me,” Zofia says, catching the girl’s attention. The girl’s gaze is intense, her brown eyes scrutinizing the two of them, but Zofia doesn’t shrink away from the girl like Falco does. Instead, Zofia holds out a hand cordially and gives the girl a friendly smile. “You’re Gabi Braun, right? I’m Zofia, and this is my friend Falco. We saw your message reposted on our school forum and wanted to help you.”

The girl looks at them suspiciously but takes Zofia’s hand, shaking it reluctantly. “You really want to help?” Her eyes flit towards Falco, who looks down immediately. “Why do you want to help me?”

“Hmm,” Zofia hums and tilts her head to the side. “Because the end of the world isn’t something I’m particularly looking forward to.” She looks over at Falco and, with a grin, elbows him playfully in the ribs. “And this guy doesn’t have anything better to do, so I had him come along.”

“What were you doing before?” Gabi asks curiously.

Falco purses his lips. It’s not that he’s ashamed about how he’s spending his last days. Living plainly is a far better choice than some people have made. Apparently, some people decided that murder was something they needed to check off their bucket list. If you ask Falco, he thinks being a normal student is far better than being a last-minute murderer. Still, it’s not something he wants to say out loud to a stranger.

He kicks at the sidewalk and mumbles, “Just … homework and stuff.”

To his surprise, Gabi doesn’t ridicule him or ask why. She simply nods as if this is a perfectly normal way for someone to spend their last days. She doesn’t ask them any more questions, somehow satisfied with Falco’s answer. She’s already digging around in her back for something and pulls a laptop out of her bag.

“I’m still waiting for people to show up, but I wouldn’t be surprised if nobody ends up showing,” Gabi says, gesturing for the two of them to sit beside her. Her tone doesn’t sound disappointed at all. In fact, she sounds rather like she expected this to happen.

Zofia sits on one side of Gabi, peering curiously over the brunette’s shoulder as she types away. Falco wants to sit beside Zofia. It would be more comfortable than sitting next to a stranger, but he would have difficulty seeing the screen. Reluctantly, he takes a seat next to Gabi.

“I’ve been looking at videos,” Gabi tells them. “People have been submitting them after seeing my message on the school forums.”

“Is there anyone particularly interesting to you?” Zofia asks.

“Not really,” Gabi says. She opens up a folder on her screen and a video file pops up. She presses Play. “Technology lets you edit anything into videos now. Some of these powers look super fake, but I still have to take a chance in case they do have powers and are interested in saving the world, right?”

The three watch the video play out. There’s a man on the screen claiming to have pyrokinesis. He’s wide-eyed and staring at the camera, holding out his hands with his palms to the ceiling. His explanation of his powers is similar to everyone else who has posted these kinds of videos on social media: he was just born with them and never bothered to reveal them until now for fear of being ostracized.

The flame doesn’t ignite right away. It’s a flicker — a spark, really — that grows into the smallest flame. The fire is hardly the size of the man’s fingertip, but he looks delighted just the same. The three children watching are not as thrilled.

“You really think this guy can save the world?” Zofia asks, raising her eyebrow.

“I don’t think this guy can save anyone,” Gabi replies. She’s so brutally honest that it would be funny if they weren’t discussing the fate of the world. “But I’m taking whatever help I can get at this point.”

They spend the rest of that afternoon looking through applications. Most of them are just internet trolls and Gabi has to roll her eyes more than once before closing out the applicant’s video. There are a few promising candidates Gabi moves to a separate folder but only when Falco and Zofia also agree that the person might be worth looking into. They go through written applications too, often filtering out any CVs that aren’t descriptive enough and sometimes those that are too descriptive and more fitted to some sci-fi character description than an actual person. Gabi calls a few numbers from the short list of people that the three all agreed on, but nobody ever picks up. Nobody shows up either. Still, Gabi doesn’t seem to be discouraged.

“Why are you doing this?” Falco asks at one point while they’re watching a video of a man who claims he can read people’s thoughts.

“Hm?” Gabi says, looking away from the video.

“Just … this whole thing,” Falco says and vaguely waves at the screen. “You know it too. This might not work, so why even bother trying to save the world?”

Gabi frowns and her eyebrows knit together like she doesn’t quite understand Falco’s question. “Well, what else would I be doing?”

Falco doesn’t respond because, well, he doesn’t have an answer. It’s not like he knows what to do with the rest of his life either. If Zofia hadn’t convinced him to come here, he’d just be at home with his head stuck in a textbook. Even if it’s useless, whatever Gabi is doing is far more interesting.

»»————- April 4, 2026 ————-««

Falco’s parents drop him off at the edge of the city. His mother had wanted to drop him off closer to his destination point, but Falco assured her that it wasn’t necessary. Besides, there were a lot of weirdos in the city, he reasoned, especially now that the apocalypse was coming. She reluctantly allowed him to be dropped off at the edge of the city, but not before giving him a can of pepper spray and a baseball bat in case he ran into anybody cruel enough to mug a middle schooler.

He doesn’t have any trouble meeting Gabi at the library they agreed to meet at. Zofia isn’t there with him after deciding this morning that saving the world wasn’t what she wanted to spend her last moments doing. She did, however, request that Falco send Gabi her best wishes, which Falco promised to pass along.

The two of them sit on the tenth floor of the library at a table by the window. The library isn’t exactly empty, but it’s not exactly filled up either. There are a few other visitors in the library with them. Some are seated at tables or couches, but others choose to sit between bookshelves, folding up their legs so that people can walk around if they need to get through. Hardly anyone pays attention to Falco and Gabi. They’re too busy flipping furiously through their books, eyes scanning the pages in seconds, as they try to finish their reading list before the world ends.

While Gabi watches more videos of superpowered applicants while Falco gathers books on powers that interest them: pyrokinesis, psychokinesis, time travel, to name a few. As he gathers research articles, he also stumbles across the section of the library dedicated to outer space and celestial bodies and decides to grab a few books on asteroids and meteors as well. There’s a slim chance that they might help, but Falco might as well try.

Gabi doesn’t talk much to Falco, too engrossed in her research to hold a conversation with him. He doesn’t talk much to her either. He does, on occasion, glance up at her to observe her progress, but she always seems to be staring at the screen with the same dissatisfied frown on her face. Every once in a while Gabi will lean over and ask Falco about whether or not a certain candidate looks promising, but his answer is almost always no and she goes back to staring at her screen.

At noon, the two take their lunch break. Gabi hadn’t brought anything. She tells Falco she was planning on just grabbing something from the snack machine near the elevators. The library remains one of the few places that was relatively untouched by thieves and vandals because not many people think “let’s rob the library” when they hear that the world is ending. Because Falco’s mother has a tendency to overpack his lunches, Falco decides to split his meal with Gabi. He figures that a sandwich is far better than whatever half-filled bag of chips Gabi would end up grabbing from the vending machine.

Falco munches on his katsu sandwich. It’s a favorite of his: two slices of pillowy milk bread with a thick cut of juicy pork cutlet covered in crispy bread crumbs wedged in between. A little butter and mustard give the sandwich a little bitterness that makes the tip of his tongue tingle and savory tonkatsu sauce drizzled over the thinly sliced cabbage underneath the katsu complete the simple but scrumptious sandwich.

He looks over to see if Gabi is enjoying her food as much as he is, but she’s scarfing it down so quickly that he isn’t sure she’s even taking the time to taste it. In between bites, she’s scrolling through her laptop with greasy fingers, frowning. A glance at the notebook beside her tells Falco that Gabi hasn’t found many promising candidates.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Falco asks. He’s halfway done with his lunch but Gabi is a bite away from finishing hers.

Gabi shrugs. She doesn’t look up as she answers. “I don’t know. It’s worth a shot, right?” She scrolls a bit more before she pauses, her fingers hovering above the touchpad. Her eyes flicker over to Falco so suddenly that he nearly drops his sandwich. Gabi narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, her attention entirely on the boy. Her gaze is intense and she scoots to the edge of her seat, leaning in towards Falco. “You’re awfully skeptical about this plan for someone who’s trying to save the world.”

Falco gulps, trying not to shy away from her intense gaze. If he were a turtle, he’d be curled back in his shell right now. “I just want to make sure we’re not wasting our time,” he mumbles.

“Falco, do you not believe that people can have superpowers?” Gabi asks.

Falco is about to shake his head and say that that’s not the case but before he can Gabi settles back into her seat, arms folded across her chest, and announces, “I have a superpower.” She says it quite loudly, loudly enough for her voice to be heard across the entire floor, but people are too preoccupied with their reading to pay much attention to her although a few readers do shoot her a dirty look for being so loud.

Falco is not quite sure what he expected Gabi to say, but it wasn’t that. He sits there awkwardly, sandwich still half-finished in his hands. After a moment, he asks, “Er, what is it?”

Gabi pops the last bit of her sandwich in her mouth and wipes her fingers on her jeans. After she chews and swallows, she leans towards Falco once more and gives him an impish grin. “I can read people’s minds. Telepathy,” she tells him. She doesn’t wait for him to ask for a demonstration.

Gabi puts one hand on Falco’s chest and stares deeply into his eyes. Falco’s heart is beating wildly in his chest. If by some miracle Gabi doesn’t hear it, Falco’s certain that she’ll be able to feel it underneath her fingertips. She doesn’t say anything about it, though, just continues to stare at him with those intense brown eyes of hers as she reads every single thought racing through his mind right now, like how he’s never been quite this close to anyone, how he’s never had his heart beat quite this fast, or how he thinks he might just die right here right now before the asteroid even hits.

Suddenly, Gabi’s face breaks into a smile and she pulls her hand away, Falco’s chest feeling achingly empty now. Gabi is laughing now, but Falco doesn’t have any idea why.

“God, I didn’t think you’d believe me,” she laughs. She’s laughing so hard that it’s difficult to make out what she’s saying. “I didn’t think you’d believe me, but you really did. You’re really gullible, aren’t you?”

Falco blinks, confused for a minute as he tries to process what just happened. “You … can’t read minds?” he says a beat too late.

“No, god, but you thought I did,” Gabi laughs.

“Then what’s your power?”

Gabi’s still giggling as she answers. “Something else. It’s not important. I’ll tell you if it ends up being useful.”

She’s laughing. She’s still laughing. It’s a laugh that comes from her stomach and has her clutching her sides. People are glaring because it’s disrupting the peace, and Falco feels like he should tell her to stop but he finds that he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t even mind that she’s laughing at him. He just likes the sound of it.

»»————- April 5, 2026 ————-««

They sit with a pack of chocolate-covered biscuits shaped like little bamboo shoots between them. While Falco eats them one at a time, usually popping one in his mouth after he’s read a few pages of whatever book he’s reading, Gabi shovels them into her mouth by the handful without even looking. They’ve gone through their fifth pack of the little chocolate biscuits and it’s not even noon yet.

“Do you think you can do it?” Falco asks at some point.

“Save the world?” Gabi asks. She sucks her thumb, trying to get the chocolate off. Falco nods and Gabi says, “Well, who else if not me?”

“Literally anyone else,” Falco replies because, well, they’re only kids.

“Right, and just die young, dumb, and stupid like every other kid our age,” Gabi says with a roll of her eyes. “No thanks. I’d rather have died trying to do something. Besides, it’s not as if the adults are having that much luck either.”

Gabi slides her laptop over so that Falco can see the screen. On it, a video plays of a rocket shooting into space. The caption on the bottom reads “NASA Space Missile Failure.” Falco vaguely recalls hearing about the missile launch earlier this morning. The scientists were excited about it, hoping that the missile would collide with the oncoming asteroid and shatter it into smaller pieces that would burn up in the atmosphere, but it seems like they had been excited for nothing. Apparently, they had miscalculated the trajectory of the missile and it would miss the asteroid completely.

“That sucks,” Falco says finally. He’s not exactly sure how he feels about the news. He should probably feel disappointed, but he feels the same way he did a month ago when he heard the world was ending: perfectly indifferent.

Gabi shrugs. “Armin said it wouldn’t work. He said their calculations were off,” she says. She glances at Falco and adds, “Armin’s a genius. He’s my mentor’s husband.”

“A genius? Is that his superpower?” Falco asks. If Gabi knows someone who’s a literal genius, he doesn’t see why they’re doing all this work. Shouldn’t this genius, whoever he is, have all the answers?

Gabi thinks for a minute, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not sure. My mentor just says Armin’s a genius, but he’s way too humble to admit it,” Gabi finally answers. She frowns, leaning forward with her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “He can’t help us though. He’s busy tending to his fish.”

Falco isn’t certain he’s heard her right. “His fish?” he repeats.

“Yeah. He’s a marine biologist. He likes to have some fish at home,” Gabi explains like it’s the most normal thing in the world to take care of your fish when the world is about to end. “He says it calms him down to see them swim around.”

Falco is still trying to wrap his head around all of this — Gabi and her willingness to save the world, the genius she just spoke of who just wants to take care of his fish, and the asteroid hurtling towards the earth. He doesn’t understand any of it. “So it’s okay for you, a kid, to try and save the world while a literal genius is taking care of fish at his house instead of trying to prevent the apocalypse?”

Gabi blinks. “Yes,” she replies as if there could be no other answer. “Because it’s what I want to do. And it’s what he wants to do. Why should we be doing anything different?”

“But shouldn’t you be doing, I don’t know, kid things?” Falco asks. He’s starting to feel a little frustrated talking to her. This isn’t what she should be doing at all. This isn’t what they should be doing. They should be enjoying the last few days they have together. They should be playing games at the arcade, or wandering around the empty mall, or eating snacks at the park, not … whatever this is.

“Maybe. Probably. But I don’t want to,” Gabi says. She turns the laptop back and starts typing away. “I don’t like the idea of doing something just because the world is ending. I’ve always done what I wanted, so I don’t have any regrets. This is the only thing I want to do now.”

It’s more than Falco can say. Like Gabi, he doesn’t have anything he wants to do, but then he’s never really ever wanted to do anything. All his life he’s been floating from place to place and participating in whatever was expected of kids his age: attending school, joining a sports team, learning an instrument. He didn’t care about any of it. He doesn’t have any regrets about it, but he does feel a sudden wave of admiration for Gabi. She’s saving the world now because she feels like it, but she could just as easily leave this task for another if something else strikes her fancy. Falco wants to know what it feels like to pursue something so impulsively.

He wants to want things. He wants to be with Gabi. He wants to help her save the world.

“Is there something you want to do before the world ends?” Gabi asks. She’s just asking to be polite. Her eyes are already glued to the screen of her laptop, her face turned away from him. “You don’t seem to be as into the whole ‘save the world’ thing as I am.”

Falco shrugs even though she’s not watching. “I don’t mind it.” Falco could leave it at that. He doesn’t have to say anything else, but he does. “There isn’t really else I want to do anyway,” he tells her, but it’s a lie.

He wants to hold her hand.

»»————- April 6, 2026 ————-««

Falco has never looked forward to anything as much as the researching sessions he has with Gabi. He’s never really looked forward to anything before, actually, and he’s not sure why being surrounded by books and looking at (mostly) fake superhero videos with Gabi appeals to him so much.

He likes a lot of things about the way Gabi works. She’s quiet and focused, eyebrows knitted as she decides whether or not to call another applicant that probably won’t pick up. She never gets discouraged even though things don’t look promising. They’ve probably called dozens of people and only a third have actually responded. Most of them turned out to be trolls, which isn’t surprising considering they were taking submissions from strangers on the internet, but Gabi still carries on. Maybe it’s Gabi’s passion and stubbornness that has drawn Falco to her, but it feels like it’s more than that too.

He feels, in a way, like Gabi completes him. Before he met her, he was wandering aimlessly. Now he doesn’t know what he’d do without her. Staying at home and studying seems unbearable when the option of being with Gabi exists.

Falco isn’t sure how Gabi feels about him. He doesn’t even know if she has any feelings towards him — if she likes him, hates him, or just feels completely indifferent. At any rate, she doesn’t seem to mind spending her last few days on earth with him, and that makes him feel a little better about the world ending. Occasionally, he thinks about how Gabi probably wouldn’t notice if he stopped coming to help her. Well, she might notice, but Falco doesn’t think Gabi would change her routine. She’d just continue saving the world with or without his help.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Falco asks at one point. Gabi looks at him with a raised eyebrow and he elaborates “We hardly know each other and we’re just here … saving the world together.”

Gabi frowns, a thoughtful look on her face. “I don’t think it’s weird,” she says to Falco, and he feels his heart flutter in his chest. “A lot of weird stuff has happened because it’s the end of the world and we just happened to meet each other. If a total weirdo had showed up instead of you, then maybe I would be saving the world with them and we never would have met.” She doesn’t seem to mind the thought of working with a total weirdo in place of Falco.

Falco slumps in his seat, deflated, but Gabi doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m glad it was you though,” Gabi continues.

Falco lifts his head. “Really?” He scoots closer in his seat, curious. “Why?”

Gabi twirls her pen between her fingers, looking upward as she thinks. After a moment, she shrugs. “I don’t know,” she answers. “It just feels better knowing I’m working with someone. It’s better than working alone, I guess. I might feel the same way even if it were someone else, but I also might not. Still, I’m glad it’s you.”

It doesn’t really mean anything. Like she said, it could have been some other kid who ended up answering Gabi’s post and helping her with her impossible quest to save the world. It could have been some other person sitting with her and looking up useless articles on asteroids and meteorites. It could have been someone else having this conversation with her. But, Falco reminds himself, it wasn’t. It’s him sitting beside her, eating snacks and discussing the end of the world. It probably isn’t fate that they met, but it kind of feels like it is.

»»————- April 7, 2026 ————-««

Tired of the same snacks from his pantry, Falco decides to try the café on the first-floor of the library for some new things to eat. He had asked Gabi what she wanted and she told him to just get her anything.

The first floor café is relatively well-stocked for the end of the world, but maybe it’s because bookworms prefer literature to satiate their appetites rather than food.

The display case, usually filled with dessert sandwiches with slices of strawberries and kiwi and slathered with whipped cream, is cleaned out, but the shelves behind the cash register are still stocked with different kinds of chips and candies. Falco scans the shelves, looking for his favorites: baked potato chips covered in rich butter, little rice crackers flavored with soy sauce and red pepper flakes, and chocolate cookies in the shape of tiny hamburgers.

Falco stares, for the longest time, at the other snacks and wonders what Gabi would like, if she has a preference for anything. Maybe he should have paid more attention when they were eating together to see if she ever seemed to gravitate to certain foods he brought or commented on any of the snacks they ate together, but he can’t recall anything. He feels stupid for not noticing, but he also doesn’t want to keep Gabi waiting and ends up grabbing whatever grabs his attention.

He arrives at their designated research table, huffing from the flights of stairs he had to climb. Falco deposits the snacks rather ungracefully in front of Gabi, letting them fall out of his hands and onto the table. Gabi looks up from the noise, her eyebrows raised, but she smiles when she sees that it’s him and Falco’s heart flutters almost painfully in his chest.

“These are yours,” Falco says, shoving Gabi’s share of the snacks towards her.

“Thanks.” Gabi picks up a snack with a gray cartoon cat on the wrapper. It’s a puffed corn stick. Pizza-flavored, the wrapper says. She opens it with a grin. “How did you know these were my favorite?” she asks.

“I … I don’t know,” Falco says. “Must have been a lucky guess.”

But it doesn’t feel like it.

It feels like he knew, from the beginning, what she had wanted. It’s like he had let his instincts take over when he had randomly chosen snacks for Gabi and somehow selected her favorite ones. It was as easy as picking food for someone he had known for his whole life, which is impossible because he hadn’t even known Gabi a week ago. Maybe, then, he had known Gabi in a past life and that’s how he happened to pick her favorites. Or maybe they really are fated to be together and knowing things like her favorite food are just second nature to him. The latter two explanations are almost impossible and yet so much more likely than the first explanation. He doesn’t know how to explain it though, not without seeming crazy, so he doesn’t say anything.

»»————- April 8, 2026 ————-««

Tomorrow is the end of the world and they are no closer to saving everyone from the asteroid hurtling towards the earth than they were yesterday. In fact, they are no closer to saving the world than they were a week ago when this effort began or even a month ago when they had first found out the world was going to be destroyed. Their attempt to prevent the world’s end was futile and their effort today will probably be equally useless. Still, here they are on the tenth floor of the library doing the same thing they did yesterday.

The sun is about to set and it’s almost time for them to head home. Falco wonders if they’ll be here tomorrow spending their last moments at the library when the world ends or if Gabi will call it quits and suggest they spend their last day without each other. He’s too afraid to ask.

They pack up silently, Gabi slipping her notebooks and laptop into her bag as Falco arranges the books into neat stacks on the slim chance that they’ll return tomorrow. Falco notices that Gabi packs the same way she always does — quickly, dumping everything into her backpack as if she doesn’t care if they get damaged — and it stings a little bit that she doesn’t pack a little slower this time like he does just so that he can spend a few seconds more with her. Maybe he shouldn’t be so disappointed because it’s obvious she doesn’t care for him more than she would care for a coworker or a classmate she was randomly paired with to complete an assignment.

Falco is silently pining when Gabi speaks, startling him.

“So, the world ends tomorrow,” she says easily. It’s like she’s talking about the weather. “Are you satisfied with how you spent your last days? No regrets?”

They’re two questions that seem related, but Falco’s answers for them are very different.

He is satisfied with how he spent his last days. The past week perhaps isn’t as spectacular by other people’s standards. Falco didn’t go bungee jumping or skydiving or deepsea divings like some of his peers. Some people would argue that the way he spent his last few days was as boring as the way he spent the past month, although Falco would argue that it was infinitely better because he had Gabi. He’s convinced that however he chose to spend his last days, as long as they were with Gabi, he would be happy. He could even watch the grass grow with Gabi and he’d be completely content. So, yes, he’s completely satisfied with how he spent his last few days, but he has many regrets.

He regrets not meeting Gabi earlier. He regrets not being able to spend more than a week with her. He regrets not doing things with her that kids their age should be doing: playing soccer in the field, catching butterflies by the river and letting them go, and hanging out at the arcade and beating their high scores. But most of all, he regrets feeling this way about Gabi and not being able to tell her.

Falco doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he asks, “Do you?”

“No,” Gabi replies with a smile and it makes Falco feel a little better about the ache in his chest.

»»————- April 9, 2026 ————-««

Falco doesn’t expect Gabi to call him the next day. Before bidding each other goodbye yesterday, Gabi suggested they not see each other again.

“You should spend the day with your family or something,” Gabi said to him. “Your parents probably want to spend their last day with their kids. I’ll just do this by myself. And, you know, thanks for everything.”

He had wanted to tell her that it was fine if they spent their last day together. He spent his whole life with his parents. He should at least spend one more day with Gabi if this is his last one, but he bit his tongue and said goodbye to her with the fakest smile before turning on his heel and walking as quickly as he could to where his mom would pick him up.

Falco was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling when Gabi called and told him to meet him at the bottom of the hill near the outskirts of his town. She said her mentor was coming back today and that they could visit her to see if there was still a possibility of saving the world. Falco didn’t even question her or ask if they really have any hope after their days of research lead to nothing. He just leapt out of bed, told his parents he would be out and that he loved them, and biked up to the hills where Gabi asked to meet him.

When he gets there, Gabi is already waiting for him, bundled in a navy peacoat and a gray scarf tied loosely around her neck. Her face breaks out in a grin when she sees him and she waves a gloved hand to greet him.

“How did you get here so fast?” Falco huffs once he finally reaches her. The hill gets too steep for him to bike, so he gets off his bicycle and walks with Gabi beside him.

“My uncle Reiner drove me here,” Gabi replies, shoving her hands in her pockets. She rolls her eyes, but her mouth twitches with a smile. “He says he wanted to spend a little more time with his favorite niece before she becomes famous for saving the world.”

“You really think we’re gonna do it?” Falco asks.

Gabi shrugs. “I think if my mentor thinks so, we probably have a good chance.”

They arrive at the mentor’s house at the top of the hill. It’s small, more like a tiny cabin than an actual house. When Gabi knocks, they’re greeted by a blond man with big blue eyes. The man smiles when he sees Gabi, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Hello, Gabi. I guess Mikasa told you she’d be coming back today,” the man says. He looks over Falco. “Hello. You must be Gabi’s friend Falco. I’m Armin.” The man offers a hand for Falco to shake.

Falco nods, wondering why the man’s name sounds so familiar. It’s only when he’s shaken the man’s hand that he remembers Gabi had mentioned Armin a few days ago when they were researching in the library. He’s the genius that likes to spend his days taking care of fish.

Falco follows Gabi when the man invites them into the cabin. Falco’s a little taken aback at how simple the interior is. The living room is small and the kitchen is smaller with only the essentials. There isn’t even a microwave.

“Sit down,” Armin says, gesturing at the dining table in the middle of the room. He heads towards the kitchen cabinets where he takes out three mugs. “I’ll make tea for us while we wait for Mikasa.”

“Can we see your fish later, Armin?” Gabi asks. She’s already settled down in a chair, kicking her legs back and forth. It’s clear that she feels at home here. When she notices that Falco hasn’t taken a seat yet, she gestures for him to sit down at the seat closest to her. To Armin, she continues, “I was telling Falco about you and he was curious about what a genius would be up to at the end of the world if he wasn’t trying to prevent the apocalypse.”

Armin chuckles. “Do you like fish, Falco?” he asks. He smiles when Falco makes a surprised noise, an answer stuck in his throat. “Sure, we can take a look a little later.”

Over apple tarts and tea, Gabi and Armin fill Falco in on Mikasa. She’s Armin’s wife, Gabi’s mentor, and the key to saving the world. Mikasa has a superpower, Gabi explains, that allows her to identify other people with superpowers and what those powers are. She helps people utilize their powers, but she took off for a month when the end of the world was announced to gather people with powers that might prevent the asteroid from crashing into the earth.

“Did Mikasa tell you if she met any promising people?” Gabi asks. She’s licked her plate clean and cinnamon sticks to her lips.

Armin shakes his head, a resigned smile on his face. “Unfortunately, no. She said all the candidates she met didn’t have any sort of useful power, but who knows? Maybe she’ll meet someone on the way here that can stop the meteor.”

“Ah, it’s a meteor now?” Falco asks, sitting up in his seat.

“It’s been one for a while,” Armin says. He glances out the window for a second. It’s not blue like it was when Falco woke up this morning. It’s orange now., not like a sunrise but more like someone has set the sky on fire. “We should be able to see it soon. The estimated time of impact is soon if I recall correctly. Hopefully, we get to see Mikasa soon.” His eyebrows are knitted together in concern, but Gabi looks just as unbothered as ever.

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Gabi says. She collects her empty plate as well as Falco and Armin’s before depositing them in the sink. It’s an awfully normal thing to do considering the fact that the dirty dishes won’t matter when the earth is destroyed. She lets them soak in the sink and then turns to Armin. “Can we go see your fish now? Falco hasn’t seen them yet.”

“Sure,” Armin says with a smile. He gets up from the table and gestures for Falco to follow him. “Let’s go see the fish.”

Armin leads the children to a side room. Inside is a large glass fish tank with so many plants, shells, and rocks that Falco doesn’t see the fish at first. He and Gabi crouch beside the tank, their faces not quite touching the glass. Falco can see neon fish the size of his pinky darting back and forth between plants. He spots a miniature catfish the size of his thumb hiding behind a rock while a school of ten or so black and white striped fish zips around the 50-gallon tank. There are many more fish that Falco spots, lots of which he doesn’t know the name of but Armin patiently points them all out and tells Falco both the scientific and the common names of each fish and their habits. It’s clear that he loves it, taking care of the fish and looking after them, and Falco thinks he understands a little bit why Armin has chosen to spend the rest of the world like this. Occasionally, Gabi pipes in with whatever she remembers about each fish, usually their behavioral patterns she’s noticed when she’s visited, and Armin always grins whenever she speaks.

The three don’t notice when Mikasa arrives. They’re too busy staring at the fish swimming back and forth in the tank without a care in the world. The fish can’t grasp the fact that the world is ending. After all, their world only consists of the four glass walls that encase them and anything outside doesn’t concern them. It’s only when the door to the room opens and Mikasa steps in that the three realize that she’s returned. The fish, however, just keep swimming.

“That’s a nice way to spend the end of the world,” Mikasa comments. She has a tired smile on her face. She wears a soft cream-colored turtleneck, a long black coat hanging over her arm. “I see Gabi has joined us. As has her friend.” The woman nods at Falco.

“H-hello,” Falco stammers. He’s not sure what he was expecting Mikasa to look like. Perhaps like a woman with all the answers, someone who looked like she had seen the world, but she doesn’t. She just looks like any other woman, maybe a little more tired than other women, but still just a normal person. She doesn’t look like she has an amazing superpower, but then again neither does Gabi nor any of the potential candidates that claimed to have powers. “I’m Falco.”

“Ah, yes,” Mikasa says with a nod. “Gabi mentioned you before. I’m Mikasa, her mentor.” She drapes her coat over a nearby chair and walks over to join the three of them beside the fish tank.

“Did you find anyone?” Gabi asks. She looks out towards the living room, craning her neck to see if Mikasa had brought someone they didn’t notice.

“No, nobody that could save the world, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mikasa sighs, shoulder slumped. “Although, I did run into a guy who was convinced that the only way to save the world was to destroy it. I got away from him as quickly as possible.”

“Probably a smart decision,” Armin says with a nod, and Mikasa smiles in reply.

“Well, shall we go watch the end of the world together?” Mikasa asks, putting an arm around Gabi. She looks around at the others. “I heard it was going to be quite spectacular. Like a meteor show in the middle of the day.” Her eyes settle on Falco and her smile begins to falter. Her brows knit together and she opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something.

Armin notices the change in her demeanor and looks back and forth between Falco and Mikasa. “What’s wrong? Are you …?” It seems like something clicks in his head and he quickly turns to Falco. With a hand on the boy’s shoulder, Armin asks quickly, “Falco, do you have a power you haven’t told us about?”

The question startles Falco and he jerks away from Armin’s hand in surprise. “I … I don’t know,” he says, stumbling over his words. He’s never felt like he had any kind of superpower. He’s never shown any sign of being special. He’s always just been … normal.

“You … do you not know?” Mikasa asks, her eyebrows raised. She looks at Gabi. “Falco can save the world.”

It’s too much for Falco to take in when the world is about to end so soon. He has too many questions like: What power is he supposed to have? How come he didn’t know about it before? Is there still time to save everyone or is it too late? He opens his mouth to ask, not knowing which one will come out of his mouth first, when he feels a comforting hand on his elbow. Falco looks over to see Gabi standing beside him, somehow calm despite this revelation.

“What’s his power, Mikasa?”

“He can travel back in time,” Mikasa says, still staring at Falco with her intense gaze. “Under the event of an unexpected death like, say, getting hit by an asteroid, he can go back in time and prevent it from happening. But only if he remembers that it will happen in the first place.” Her eyes flicker towards Gabi for some reason.

“What … what does that mean ‘only if I remember’?” Falco asks Gabi.

Gabi’s biting down on her lip, expression contemplative. Finally, she tells Falco, “My power is that I’m unforgettable. If you reset your time after the meteor hits, usually you won't remember what happened, but you will if I use my power. You’d be able to remember me and everything we’ve done together. If you go back in time, maybe you can find a way to save the world because you’ll know what to expect.”

“Then … then that’s good news!” He doesn’t know why everyone around him isn’t jumping up and down in excitement right now. They’ve found a way to save the world. If not this time, then the next time or the time after that. “Isn’t this good news?”

“I mean, it is,” Gabi says. She doesn’t sound as confident as she usually does. Instead, she’s hesitant, almost shy. Falco doesn’t think he’s ever seen Gabi shy before. She’s looking at the floor now, kicking at the hardwood floor with her sock-clad feet. “It’s just that … I have to make you fall in love with me to make you remember me.”

Falco’s mouth falls open and no words come out.

“It’s not like it’s hard,” Gabi says almost hurriedly, more because she’s embarrassed than in a rush to save the world. She’s shed off her embarrassment and assumed her usual confident demeanor. “I’m very lovable, you know. It’s just …” Her voice trails off again.

“She has to seal it with a kiss,” Mikasa finishes, and Falco can see why Gabi was so embarrassed. His cheeks redden just from the thought of kissing Gabi. Mikasa adds rather apologetically, “It’s just the way it works, her power. She needs to kiss you.”

“Only if you’re okay with it, of course,” Gabi adds. She’s still avoiding his gaze, her eyes on the floor. “I’m fine if you’d rather not. You might just be stuck in the loop all by yourself. It’d be a little less painful since you won’t remember each time but still -”

“I’m okay with it,” Falco says.

Gabi looks up, surprised. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Falco says. “I’m … I’m fine with it. Let’s save the world. Together. That’s what our entire plan was, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Gabi repeats and she smiles. It’s different from how she’s smiled at him before. It’s a little bit bashful, a little bit excited. It looks nice on her, Falco thinks, and he’s so distracted that he’s surprised when he realizes she’s holding his hand.

Mikasa tugs at the elbow of Armin’s cardigan and the blond man nods. Taking Mikasa’s hand, he turns to the kids and says, “We’ll be out there just to give you two some privacy. Hopefully, we’ll see each other again soon.”

The door shuts softly behind the two adults. Falco doesn’t know if they wait in the living room or if they’ve gone outside to admire the sky. From the window, Falco can see that the sky has changed from a burnt orange to an explosion of different colors: shades of violet, pink, blue, and yellow all together almost like a watercolor painting. There are streaks of white in the sky. It’s like a meteor shower in the middle of the day just as Mikasa had said.

When he turns to Gabi, she’s looking at him with her hand still holding his. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek, but she smiles when she sees he’s looking at her.

“Are you still up for it?” Gabi asks.

“Y-yeah,” Falco says, his voice cracking. He feels his face flush, but he likes the sound of Gabi’s giggle even if he’s the one she’s laughing at. He licks his lips nervously and leans in just the tiniest bit. “Is … is it okay if I kiss you?”

Gabi bites her lip and nods. She leans in too and Falco takes it as his cue to close his eyes and close the gap.

He doesn’t know what to expect from this kiss. Maybe warm lips pressing against his while his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. Maybe Gabi’s hands gripping his arms while his hands hover awkwardly around his waist. Maybe the world ending and, when his eyes open, Falco waking to thoughts of Gabi and how to find her next. But none of this happens. Instead, Gabi puts her hands on his shoulder and pushes him gently but firmly away.

“I can’t do it,” Gabi says.

“Wha-?”

“I can’t do it,” Gabi repeats with a shake of her head. She looks upset, but Falco doesn’t know why. He wonders what it is he did to offend her. Maybe she doesn’t want to kiss him. Maybe she finds him repulsive and doesn’t want to kiss him even if it means saving the world. Falco thinks this would be the case if Gabi didn’t look so apologetic. “I can’t kiss you. Not like this.”

“What do you mean?” Falco asks, panicked. He takes a glance at the window. Outside, the meteors in the sky look brighter. It’s like a million stars are falling to the earth. It’s only a matter of time before the world ends. He doesn’t know why Gabi is doing this.

“I don’t want to kiss you just to save the world and I don’t want you to kiss me for the same reason,” Gabi says, taking a step away from him. She shakes her head, tears pricking her eyes. “I want you to kiss me because you like me, not because you have some responsibility to save the earth so … so find me again and kiss me. Find me again and tell me you like me and kiss me hard. And then … and then we can save the world.”

But he wants to kiss her now. He wants to kiss her because he likes her. He wants to kiss her because the world is ending. He wants to kiss her even if the world isn’t ending. He wants to tell her that, but he doesn’t have the words.

Ever since Mikasa had revealed Falco’s power, everything has suddenly made sense to him. Falco understands now why his life felt so empty before he met Gabi and why he never felt the desire to do anything. He knows why he was so drawn to her when they first met that day in the city and why he felt like she completed him. It’s because they were meant to meet each other, meant to be together, meant to save the world.

Falco wants to kiss her so badly. He wants to hold Gabi’s face in his hands and put his lips on hers and kiss her until the world ends and when he wakes up again he’ll find her and kiss her again and again and again. He wants to tell her he likes her now and that he’ll like her again. He wants to tell her that he’d like her even if the world weren’t about to end, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t get to tell her anything.

A bright light flashes from the window. All Falco sees is Gabi and then white, and then nothing.

»»————- March 9, 2026 ————-««

Falco wakes up and rolls out of bed. He brushes his teeth in the bathroom and brushes out his hair before blearily heading down the stairs where his mom is making breakfast. His father hasn’t left for work yet, he notices, which is rather strange. His mother hasn’t finished making breakfast yet and his brother isn’t dressed for school. He stares at them, wondering why they’re acting so odd. It takes them a moment to realize he’s there.

“The world is ending next month,” his mother tells him. She points at the TV screen that Falco’s father is staring at. On it flashes a picture of an asteroid hurtling towards the earth. The little banner underneath the picture says it’s far too big to burn up in the atmosphere. Scientists have no hope of human survival.

“If I knew, I would have slept in,” Colt mumbles.

His family looks shocked by the news, but Falco doesn’t feel anything. He grabs a banana from the fruit bowl in the kitchen and starts to head out the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Colt asks him.

Falco pauses by the door. “I don’t know,” he says after a moment. He’s not sure what to do now that the world is ending. There isn’t anything in particular that he wants to do. “I’ll go to school, I guess.”

He leaves after assuring his parents that it’s fine, that he really doesn’t mind going to school because he isn’t sure what else to do. He stops by his mailbox and looks up at the sky. It’s clear and blue, no asteroid in sight.

He takes a deep breath and then releases it. It sounds like a sigh.

#falbi #snk #sf8 au #falco grice #gabi braun

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orangerosebush · 3 years

Text

Out in the fields

Wicklow has often been referred to as the garden of Ireland. The founder of St. Bartleby’s had assumed that the sprawling landscapes and fresh air would do the young gentlemen of Ireland’s high society some good — and he wasn’t wholly wrong. There was certainly a great deal less trouble to get into in the middle of a field than there was in the more populated towns.

However, those who are determined to find trouble will inevitably make do, and such is the case on this night, with the overcast spring sky providing ample opportunity to lurk if one so desires. And, let it be said, Jack Lovett was nothing if not a professional troublemaker, in the unfortunate way that sheltered rich teenagers are.

It is true that Wicklow is the garden of Ireland, but even so, there is a smattering of abandoned lots and crumbling alleys. Tonight, Jack had picked out one of the abandoned car parks that he’d evaluated to be the best of the lots, and he currently had parked himself on top of a stack of old wooden crates. His adventuring partner for the night, a first-year university student he’d met at a rather bad concert back in the autumn, was none too happy with their predicament.

However, they’d already argued about the risk factor of skulking about in empty lots on the way over, and both thought it best to save some energy for arguing about the activity later into the night.

There isn’t much to do in Wicklow if you’re a private school student.

***

Jack flicked his lighter on and off, admiring the way it spat out sparks.

“You’re going to break that,” his companion sighed, their mouth pulled into a disapproving, thin line.

Rolling his eyes, Jack made a show of flicking the lighter shut before shoving it in his blazer’s pocket.

Ozzy smiled, leaning their weight against the almost-slick bricks of the old building. “Thanks.”

Scoffing, Jack drummed his fingers against the box on which he was sitting, the noise making a slight echo. After a moment, he looked back at Ozzy. They raised an eyebrow, and he took that as an invitation.

“What do you want to do?”

“What do I want to do?” they snorted. “You’re the one who wanted to poke around weird holes in the wall.”

“It’s not like there would’ve been anything to do on campus,” he said, frowning defensively.

“So you should’ve come up to Dublin instead of making me take a taxi down here.”

“Yeah, true, Ozzy,” Jack admitted. “Ozzy — what’s your name from, anyway?” he asked, swinging his legs lazily from his perch.

Ozzy shrugged. “Poem.”

“What?” he furrowed his brow. “I thought the name was from that rocker bloke.”

“Why’d you even ask, then?”

“Dunno. Although I do admit it seemed like a weird choice and all, considering you don’t even listen to heavy metal. ”

“Well, there you go. That’s a bit stupid.”

“Eh, can’t win ‘em all.”

“Fair,” Ozzy exhaled, rolling their shoulders as they gazed out towards the empty car park. “The story I have isn’t that interesting, to be honest.”

Jack shot them a look. “We’re lurking in an abandoned lot so that I can smoke without one of the head boys giving me grief about cigs. Please, regale me with your poem.”

“Prick.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Fine. It’s basically about the narrator meeting a traveler from a faraway land, and they talk about there being this huge statue of the king Ozymandias out in the desert. The king had it engraved to say things such as that he was ‘the king of kings’ and that his enemies should fear even the sight of one of his monuments. All real braggadocio-type shit. But here’s the thing — the statue is the only thing that remains in that desert since his kingdom is now in ruins. It’s about arrogance and hubris. I can text it to you.”

“Huh,” Jack took a puff from what remained of his cigarette. At this point, the thing was almost only the orange filtration zone. Not that that gave him pause, though. “Cool.”

“I liked the themes,” they shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever, even the powerful die eventually, be careful with where you invest in real estate. Basic stuff.”

“Well, I’m gonna read it,” Jack declared, waving his hand. “So I don’t want any more spoilers.” Tiny trails of smoke formed as he gestured, with the mist making the lit end of the cigarette splutter and hiss intermittently.

“It is cool. Plus, my name makes whoever is talking to me sound like they’re buzzing.”

“The consonants are wicked, yeah,” Jack agreed, grinning. Ozzy grinned back.

Suddenly, Jack froze up. “Shit,” He hissed, flicking his cigarette to the ground and hurriedly grinding it into the wet dirt. Jack hopped off the empty boxes, fanning the air unsuccessfully in an attempt to disperse the smell of smoke.

“Do you have any Axe in your work bag?” he asked, cursing.

“It’s a research program. I’m not really doing any heavy physical labor,” Ozzy snorted. “I don’t bring stuff like Axe to work. That’d be weird.”

“Whatever,” Jack grimaced, and Ozzy craned their neck to see what he was looking at.

Across the gloom of the dusky car park, Ozzy could just about see the silhouette of a sleek, black Bentley. One of the older models, probably. They looked at Jack quizzically, taking a step back.

“Jack,” they began slowly. “There’s a car.”

“Yeah,” he said dismissively, still waving at the air. “Got any mints, at least?” he tried, hopeful.

“Dude, there’s a fecking car parked over there,” Ozzy stressed, eyes darting back to Jack. “No one ever comes out here. I think we should leg it. Now.”

“’S probably why he drove out here, the creep,” Jack muttered under his breath, moving to riffle through Ozzy’s bag anyway. They squawked, moving to kick his hand away from the bag, but he batted their boot away.

“Gross. Orange tic tacs?” he looked up, making a face.

Ozzy shoved their hands into their pockets. “They were out of the tea-flavored ones.”

Jack rolled his eyes as he crunched on the mints. “You should take one, too.”

“ I wasn’t smoking.”

“So? It’ll look weird if only one of us has mints. Take some!”

“What? No, it won’t. You’re mental — look, do you recognize that car?”

“Unfortunately. My classmate’s bodyguard has one just like it.”

Ozzy boggled. “Your classmate’s… bodyguard’s… car.”

Jack huffed. “Shut up. They’re practically inseparable. And my classmate is always blowing off school to do God knows what, so it adds up that he’d try to invade our car park behind the abandoned Foot Locker.”

“The Foot Locker lot isn’t really ours, though. It’s not really anybody’s. That’s a bit of the point of it being our haunt.”

“Yeah, technically — we still got here first, though,” Jack sent a glare off into the gloom. “If Butler comes over here and tells me to knock off smoking again, I’m fighting him.”

"His bodyguard's name is Butler — never mind. Please don’t get into a fight with someone whose job is being able to fight.”

“Fight professionally, maybe. I never learned karate or that MMA type stuff. I learned to fight on the streets. We’ve the advantage here.”

“There… is nothing going on between your ears. Just empty air, blowing around your thick skull,” Ozzy decided, finally cautiously taking a step closer to look at the car.

“Piss off.”

“You piss off,” they muttered back, poking their head around the rusting dumpster.

That was apparently a mistake, as they found themselves making eye contact with the gigantic man stepping out of the driver’s seat of the Bentley. He was incredibly still, like the calm ocean — barely tamed strength that had been forced into a moment of inertia.

Slowly, they felt themself raise up a hand in a small wave.

“Why are you interacting with them?” they heard Jack splutter from behind them.

“They already saw us,” Ozzy said, voice low.

The passenger door to the car swung up and out stepped another figure. He was pale enough that he seemed to glow a bit under the busted streetlight, and he was dressed in a smart, black suit. He must be the classmate, then, Ozzy decided, gaze flickering between the two. He didn’t seem like any secondary schooler they’d ever seen — but money was wont to have a funny effect on teenagers who’d never known its absence. For Jack, it’d convinced him that the world was a lot smaller and a great deal more simple than it truly was. For this other fellow, Ozzy frowned, it had seemed to do the opposite. He had the gait and demeanor of someone who knew the world was all too willing to knock him down, and he had thus decided to steel himself against any future threats preemptively.

Jack had been exaggerating their rivalry. Ozzy was sure of that.

If his classmate had seen Jack as anything more aggravating than a nuisance, it was more than likely that one day, Jack would have simply stopped showing up at the lot to hang out. In fact, it was more than likely that Ozzy would have stopped seeing Jack altogether.

Feeling a presence at their side, Ozzy turned to face Jack, who was lingering nearby. He grimaced, slinging their bag over his shoulder.

“If they've already seen us, then sprinting off will look suspicious,” he explained, hoisting the bag higher. Ozzy shot him a withering look.

“I thought you wanted to fight his bodyguard, Jack. Are you telling me you’re afraid that what, we’ll get chased?”

“Uh, yes, actually?” Jack said slowly, as though explaining something to an infant. “Neither of them understand the concept of fun.”

Their petty squabbling petered out as the two people from the car made their way over.

“Artemis,” Jack said, pursing his lips at the dark-haired young man.

Ozzy made a note of that, furrowing their brow. Artemis. Interesting.

“Hello, Jack. I must say, it’s a bit of surprise to see you out here,” Artemis remarked, tone light. Turning to face Ozzy, he appraised them.

“I’m Ozzy,” they offered.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your acquaintance before, Ozzy,” Artemis quirked his head, extending a hand in greeting.

“You’ve definitely never met,” Jack confirmed, tone somewhat brusque. “They’re a fresher at Trinity.”

Shaking Artemis’ hand, Ozzy harrumphed. “I can introduce myself, thanks. But no, we wouldn’t have met before, I don’t think.”

“Trinity?” Artemis smiled, nodding approvingly. “I gave a lecture on Balkan politics there.”

“Really? Maybe one of my friends saw it. When was it?”

Artemis waved a hand. “I was thirteen. It was some time ago.”

“Oh,” Ozzy blinked. “Good for you.”

“Quite. I must say that you’ve piqued my interest with Trinity. If I might ask: what is your focus on?”

“Classics,” Jack interjected before Ozzy could respond, puffing up slightly with pride at the mention of his friend’s work. “They’re beyond smart. Actually, you should tell Artemis about some of your papers, Ozzy. Lethal stuff.”

“Maybe some other time,” Butler announced, his voice firm, and he looked at his employer pointedly. Artemis must have picked up on whatever he was implying, as the pale young man nodded apologetically.

“I’m afraid it is time for us to part ways with you two,” Artemis explained.

Jack crossed his arms.

Ozzy put a firm hand on his shoulder before he could say something. He scowled at the strange duo in front of them but turning to look at Ozzy, his face softened.

“Enjoy your stupid car park,” Jack muttered, allowing Ozzy to maneuver them both back towards the path that led to the main foot road. He was no doubt thinking he’d got the last word in, Ozzy sighed mentally.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you smoking when we pulled into the lot, Jack Lovett,” Ozzy heard Butler call after the two of them from out in the gloom. They winced, continuing to push Jack forward.

“He’s threatened to tell my mum a few times, “ Jack remarked miserably, no doubt disappointed at his grand exit being ruined. “He knows her from some damn book club group, apparently.”

Ozzy laughed, and he gave them a hurt look.

“I’m living like a hunted man, you know! It’s not funny, Ozzy,” he sulked, and they shook their head fondly.

“You really ought to quit, Jack,” they sighed, inhaling the cool night air. It smelled vaguely of roses, with the pungent smell of tobacco beginning to fade as they walked farther and farther from the lot. It was always worth coming down from Central Dublin to visit Jack in Wicklow, they shot him a glance. Despite how much Jack might complain that St. Bartleby’s was located in the middle of absolute nowhere, Ozzy knew that deep down, he liked being away from the city. Not that Dublin was in any way as busy as some of the cities they’d seen back in London, Ozzy conceded. But even Dublin was too much for someone like Jack. He needed growing room, even at the precipice of adulthood.

“Hm. I might,” Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Jack .”

“No, I really think I might! It’s getting to the point where my mum would realize when I come home for the holidays, and the last thing I want is to get chewed out for using ‘her money to buy cigs when I should be learning',” he pitched his voice into a breathy falsetto at the end.

Ozzy chuckled. “You’ve already gotten caught, then.”

“Mum found a few I’d stuffed in my bag when I came home for Christmas. You should’ve seen her — she was huffing and red in the face for about an hour. I really got the business for that.”

“Good. Your dumbass should have realized that bringing cigs home was a monumentally stupid idea.”

“You’re mean tonight, you know that, Ozzy?” Jack grinned widely, shaking his head and knocking his shoulder into theirs.

“Whatever,” Ozzy rolled their eyes. Slowing slightly in their stride, they glanced backward, eyes narrowing to try to make out the silhouettes of Artemis and Butler.

“It… is a bit weird, you know,” they began, voice faltering. “That those two were at the car park.”

Jack snorted. “Weird is on-brand for Artemis. Besides, he wasn’t there for the car park, probably.”

“What?”

“You’d never guess it if you’d just met him, but he’s bonkers for all that like….,” Jack made a vague gesture with his hands. “Ancient aliens type shite. At least, he used to be when we were roommates. He’s gotten more normal since he was 10, but you never know, y’know?”

Ozzy stared at him, stopping in their tracks. “So that’s… a haunted car park, then?”

“Good idea for a band name — ‘haunted car park’,” Jack extended his arm, pantomiming putting it up across a poster. “But no, more like haunted hillfort.”

“There are fairy mounds in the parking lot?”

“Sometimes I forget you’re painfully British. Yeah, there are a bunch all over Wicklow. There’s one in the field behind the car park, but it’s so small you’d never see it on a touristy type guide.”

“Huh,” Ozzy said thoughtfully, looking out at the dimly lit concrete island.

“Huh?”

“Just ‘huh’,” Ozzy confirmed, turning back to continue walking.

Jack shrugged. “Fine by me.”

#artemis fowl #my writing #smoking cw

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