#reverie [phoenix!dream]

[itzcherrybonbon]

@koshka-in-the-corner Come get yo phoenix nuggets with some RevNeri on the side

Nerium (Succubus(i think-)!Dream) belongs to Koshka

Reverie (Phoenix!Dream) belongs to me

#cherry's art #reverie [phoenix!dream] #nerium [succubus!dream] #undertale au #undertale ocs #dream sans aus #undertale au ships

[moondragon618]

Hello, my little Reverie :) Have you missed me? Oh, I know you have... Even when we're away, you always remain mine :) But it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? You were always meant to belong to me, after all :) :) :) Tell me, Reverie, wasn't it just lonely without me? It must've been so difficult that you couldn't find anything to occupy yourself with, oh my poor thing... Have you been crying because of me? It's okay to cry, y'know? I've missed you just as much, my little phoenix 💚

You've always been so good for me, I'm very proud y'know? :) You may've ruthlessly put me in prison, but it was just a genuine mistake, wasn't it? But I'm not mad, Reverie, I promise... We're going to fix it together, and you'll be perfect again in no time 💚 C'mere, my favourite, I'm right here, and I'm never letting go again :)

N-no- nonono d-don't- s-stop calling me that- I-I'm not yours Dream, I'm n-not your fucking weapon, I-I'm- N-no nonono I d-didn't miss you I didn't I d-didn't- Y-you killed me, you w-wanted me to kill Tubbo, y-you- You broke me! I- I-I'm n-not coming back to y-you I w-won't-

#/rp #ask #☀️stemms☀️ #everlasting daydream ❤️ #🌙☀️smileduo :) #dsmp #tw abuse #tw obsessive behavior #tw possessive behavior

[author-of-all-sins]

.... a whisper stirs, a tremor of vulnerability as I grapple with the unknown. Fear wraps its icy fingers around my heart, yet amidst the shards of my brokenness, there lingers a fragile hope, a yearning for truth to weave its gentle embrace.

Love, an ethereal beacon, illuminates these eyes that seek earnestly, yearning to behold the reflection of genuine affection. If you are the star destined to illuminate my desolate expanse, may your radiance never wane, your presence a steadfast constellation in the vastness of my existence. Yet, should you be but a dream, let the darkness of reality yield to the warmth of reverie, enveloping me in a tapestry of perpetual enchantment.

Once, my path was cloaked in obscurity, dreams but ephemeral whispers fading into the night. But now, with you beside me, I am reborn, a phoenix ascending from the ashes of despair. You, my love, are both culmination and commencement, the essence of my being.

So whether you be the enduring star or the ephemeral dream, I beseech thee: remain with me, entwined in the fabric of my soul, for in you, I find peace, in you, I find my existence

Love, sought in the gaze of earnest eyes, holds the promise of truth, a beacon in the vast expanse of our existence. If you were a star, illuminating the void of my solitude, I would pray for your light to never wane, for your warmth to never fade. And if you were but a dream, a fleeting apparition in the realm of slumber, I'd choose to dwell in that reverie, where your presence knows no bounds, where love knows no end.

Once, my path was veiled in darkness, dreams mere whispers lost in the shadows. Yet, with you by my side, the world is anew, each moment a testament to your transformative grace. You are the culmination of all I've ever sought, the alpha and omega of my journey. If you're the star that guides my way, I'll follow faithfully, embracing the eternity of our love. And if you're but a dream, I'll hold onto every fleeting second, for in that dream, you are my reality, my life, my everything.....

#me

[yuki4amano]

Rainy Respite. Rainy Encounter.

Yuki Amano sat alone in her small apartment, the heavy rain outside matching the turmoil within her. With her dark skin illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp, she found solace in the rhythmic drumming of rain against her window. Her black hair fell in disarray around her shoulders, strands clinging to her face as she gazed out into the storm.

Her myopic vision blurred the raindrops into a mesmerizing dance, a fleeting distraction from the chaos of her mind. She was a portrait of solitude, lost in the depths of her own thoughts. The irregular rhythm of her breath matched the irregular beats of the rain.

As the storm raged on, a sound from her balcony broke through the silence, jolting her from her reverie. Fear gripped her heart as she considered the possibility of an intruder. Gripping her umbrella for defense, she approached the balcony with cautious steps, her thoughts swirling with apprehension.

Through the glass door, she saw a figure clad in a green vigilante outfit, drenched and clutching his side in obvious pain. The Vigilante Phoenix. His presence sent a shiver down her spine, mingling with the fear that had already coursed through her veins.

Heart pounding, Yuki hesitated before unlocking the balcony door, revealing Phoenix, a stranger to her, his usually composed demeanor replaced by a look of desperation and panic. Blood stained his green costume, creating a stark contrast against the vibrant fabric.

“Excuse me,” Phoenix stammered, his voice strained, his breaths ragged. “I… I need your help.”

Yuki’s breath caught in her throat as she took in Phoenix’s appearance. His pain was evident in every line of his face. Without a word, she ushered him inside, her mind racing with concern and confusion. What had led him to her balcony on such a stormy night?

“What happened?” Yuki asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her anxiety palpable.

Phoenix winced as he lowered himself onto Yuki’s couch, his movements slow and labored. “It’s… it’s a long story,” he managed to say, his voice strained. “I was trying to stop a villain… got surprised…”

Yuki’s hands trembled as she fetched her meager first aid supplies, her thoughts spinning with questions and doubts. She had never faced such a daunting task, but she couldn’t turn him away, not when he needed help.

As she tended to Phoenix’s wounds, her movements were careful, her heart aching at the sight of his pain. Despite the chaos of the storm outside, a strange sense of calm settled over them, a bond forming between two souls lost in the darkness.

“Thank you,” Phoenix whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. “For helping me.”

Yuki’s cheeks flushed at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. At that moment, amidst the chaos of the storm, she felt a glimmer of hope stirring within her fractured soul. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was light to be found in the darkness after all.

Together, in the quiet sanctuary of her apartment, Yuki and Phoenix found solace, their scars fading into the background as they dared to dream of a brighter tomorrow. And as the rain continued to fall outside, they realized that sometimes unexpected encounters could lead to the most profound connections.

#izuku midoriya #izuku x oc #solace in the darkness #Rainy Respite #Rainy Encounter #yuki amano #mha #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha izuku #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #mha x oc #vigilante au #vigilante izuku #vigilante phoenix #unspoken #silent intrigue #silent suffering #hitoshi shinsou #mha deku #mha x female reader #A Quiet Reassurance #a cup of tea? #timeless love #phoenix #vigilante #Subdued Struggle #Atsushi Sukoyaka

[heyimanonboy]

yester-year

In the labyrinth of yesteryears, where echoes breathe,

A kaleidoscope of dreams, once vivid, now seethe.

Two spirits, entangled in the waltz of the sublime,

A sonnet of souls, penned in the ink of time.

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

Beneath the canopy of celestial ballet,

Our love unfolded, a cosmic display.

Yet, the alchemy of destiny played its part,

And our symphony unraveled, a masterpiece apart.

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

Gardens of reverie, where our hearts once sowed,

Blossoms wilted, their secrets bestowed.

A sonorous rhapsody, woven with threads divine,

Now a silent elegy, in the tapestry's design.

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

Laughter, once a sonnet in the moonlit choir,

Now a distant echo, consumed by the fire.

In the vast expanse of solitude's embrace,

I seek your essence, lost in time's grace.

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

A lunar witness to vows whispered in the night,

Now beholds the void, bereft of its light.

Stars cascade in tears, painting the cosmic face,

Reflecting the sorrow in the celestial space.

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

Through corridors of memories, shadows pirouette,

A ghostly ballet, a haunting duet.

The fragrance of moments, lingering like mist,

Each breath, a requiem in the solitude's tryst.

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

In the gallery of reminiscence, framed despair,

I navigate, a mariner lost in the sea of air.

Silhouettes waltz in the chambers of my mind,

A ballet of absence, a dance confined.

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

Soulmate, lost in the labyrinth of chance,

I yearn for the dawn, a celestial advance.

Yet, in the void where your absence breathes,

My heart echoes love, a symphony that seethes.

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

A mosaic of sorrow painted in ethereal hues,

The canvas of longing, where metaphor ensues.

Hope, a phoenix soaring from the metaphorical pyre,

Love's rebirth, a transcendental fire.

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

In the cataclysm of a love's celestial demise,

Seeds of resilience sprout, where the heart defies.

In the ruins of the metaphorical tapestry torn,

Love resurrects, a celestial reborn.

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

please

***if you like my poetry or found the secret message, drop me a like or reblog, thank you for reading***

#dark academia #love poems #poetry #poetry aesthetic #dark aesthetic #dark art #poems #poets on tumblr #dark poetry #dark poem #secret messages #hiddengems #heyimanon #heyimanonboy #hey im anon #hey im anon boy

[rosy-cheekx]

Aesthetic prompt- song: "in hell i'll be in good company" by the dead south; vibe: steam off a warm drink, heavy rain on windows; color: cool gray, bronze, red :)

Took me long enough! This fic is months in the making, but I am so excited to finally be able to answer this prompt. This is chapter 1 of probably 3!

A Phoenix Razed

Chapter 1- Rebirth

---

3 days since Great Yarmouth

Tim’s hands encircled the paper cup in his lap. The cup was small, he noted; he could clasp his fingers together easily. Or maybe his hands were just big. The tea was dark, way over-steeped, and the herbal scent bloomed out in waves alongside the rising steam. There was no sugar, no milk, none of the usual accoutrement Tim used to take tea. Just harsh, bitter, black.

It’s what you deserve.

Tim rolled his eyes at his internal monologue, drama queen, and sipped the beverage. Agh, still hot? He sucked in air through his teeth, startling Martin, who he’d forgotten was beside him.

“Tim?” He snapped his eyes up from where they had been resting on the book, lips moving to form words Tim hadn’t been listening to. “You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, burnt my tongue.” Tim’s words sounded like a shrug, slumped and uninterested, now out of his reverie.

Silence stretched between him and Martin. Or, Tim wished it was silence. The only sound was the low static of the EEG, a rainbow of wires between the machine and Jonathan Sims’ scalp, shaved to accommodate the electrodes. What Tim wouldn’t give for any level of sound other than what they experienced right now. Any less, and there would be an answer to the question, “Will Jon ever wake up?”, and more would mean his heart was working, or lungs, or any other number of body parts to which machines were attached, waiting for any sign of response.

It’s your fault he’s like this.

It should have been you.

Tim exhaled and sipped the tea again, more careful this time. It was still hot—he was pretty sure the burn on his tongue made it feel even hotter—but he tempered his expectations and swallowed a sip of the bitter liquid, letting the raw flavor coat his throat.

“-there’s not much point to this, huh?” Martin asked, slipping a tattered bookmark between the pages of the book he had been reading—he was hoping to annoy Jon with poetry into waking up with Tennyson’s Ulysses—and letting it slip from his lap to the bed, green cover stark against the yellowish-white of the thin blanket.

“I don’t know, Marto, doctors said he might be able to hear us. Maybe dear Alfie will bore Jon back to life,” but Tim’s words lacked the bite and humor that was meant to be there.

“Don’t-” Martin warned softly, shaking his head and pushing his reading glasses through his fringe of curls. “He’s not…he’s still alive. He’s just lost.”

“You’re right,” Tim nodded, placing a hand on Martin’s shoulder lightly before pulling it away as he felt the round of Martin’s shoulder twinge under his touch. “You know what I mean.” He rubbed at the bandages that wound around his abdomen, letting himself indulge in the ache of raw skin and muscle and fat, the hiss of pain atonement for his sins.

Martin sighed, a slow, burdensome sound. “Yeah, I do.” At his words, Martin’s phone rang, and he looked at the caller ID before shoving the phone deep in his pocket, ignoring the call as he did so. “Listen, Tim, you know I’d stay longer if I could-”

“No, I get it, Martin.” Tim stood as Martin did, grabbing the IV bag by his chair for support. “Duty calls. I must away, my love.”

Martin scoffed, the pale sound muffled and diminished by the emptiness of the room. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Try to go on without me.” His voice dropped the light in it as he placed a hand on Tim’s. His hands were freezing, Jesus. “Seriously, Tim, if you need me…”

“I’ll call.” Tim waggled the phone in the pockets of the linen pants the hospital had provided. “Promise.”

--

“I hear the Great Grimaldi’s in town.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I know.”

He wished the moments after were fuzzy. He wished he could chalk his memories up to delirium or carbon monoxide poisoning. There was the detonator, small and squat in his hands. There was Grimaldi, or Nikola, or whatever that thing was. And there was Jon, kneeling, eyes piercing him in a way he had never experienced before. A moment of true lucidity amongst the madness of the Unknowing.

Tim had pressed the button, resigning this to be his final image, his final memory. The things in the world he hated most, all splayed out in front of him, with the promise of all the things he loved waiting for him. A win-win, really. Go out with a bang, leave a mark on the Stranger, cause some errant destruction, and finally see Danny again. The Stranger would never forget the Stoker brothers, that would have been for sure.

But the combustion and the flames had swept over him like a hot wind. He felt the flames lick the sides of his face, felt smoke choke his lungs, felt impossibly hot ash and air swirl around him in a tango. The building had crumbled around him and Tim had been unable to move, forced to witness every last nanosecond of the chaos he had caused.

And he reveled in it. He had won; he had beaten the Stranger. To know he had avenged the deaths of Danny and Sasha was prize enough.

None of it made any sense. He shouldn’t have survived.

How had he survived?

-

5 Days After Great Yarmouth

“Tim.”

Basira was in Tim’s room, wheelchair parked in the corner and sitting in a visitor’s chair. Her body was tense and still, reminiscent of a panther in some documentary he had watched with Jon. Ready to strike? Or run?

“Basira.” Tim’s voice was careful. “Martin said you weren’t up for visitors today. Glad to see you’re okay.”

“Save it.” Basira’s hands were fisted in her robe, the white and yellow one matching Tim’s, declaring them both as patients under observation. Tim frowned, pulling his IV behind him to sit on his bed, wincing as he bent and adjusted himself. “Daisy’s gone, Jon is…whatever he is. I survived because I was smart.”

Her voice was low and sharp, accusing him of…something. Tim felt blood boiling under his skin, as he waffled somewhere between furious and confused. “Excuse me?” He said pointedly, voice measured, squeezing tight the paper cup of tea in his hand.

“Tim, how are you not dead?” Basira gestured with her hand. “Your burns were all superficial. You broke your arm in the collapse, but you managed to survive the fire.” She shook her head and smoothed the fabric that lay there with her hand. “You and I both know you shouldn’t be alive right now.”

Tim took a steadying breath, though it did little to conceal his frustration. “So what, you think I’m fucking magical or something?” He could feel the heat and pitch rise in his voice. “You think I’m like...like those freaks we read about in the statements? Like-like Jon or Elias or like fucking Nikola?”

Basira opened her mouth to speak but Tim cut her off. “You know why I was there, Basira. For Danny. For Sasha. You bloody well know none of this was supposed to happen.” He gestured in the general direction of where Jon lay, dead to the world. “The audacity to assume I-”

“Tim!” Basira cut in, interrupting his increasingly desperate tone. “Look!” She pointed down. Following her gaze, Tim saw the paper cup he was holding. The cup of tea was steaming. No, it was boiling. He could hear the roil of the water, see the bubbles blossoming on the surface. On instinct, he yelped, tossing the cup of bitter black tea across the room, hitting the sink on the far side of the wall squarely. He winced as the liquid splashed across the mirror, the cup rolling to a stop in the basin.

“What the fuck?” He wiped his hands on his robe. “How the hell did that happen?”

“Did it burn you?” Basira asked, eyes passing over him studiously.

“Ah…” Tim turned his right hand over, checking for any splash marks or blisters on his palm. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Basira asked, raising her eyebrow. At Tim’s irritated roll of his eyes, she folded her fingers together.

“You know that’s not normal, right?” It wasn’t a question.

Tim nodded, voice stolen from him as he processed her words. “Are you trying to say I’m fireproof or something?”

Basira shrugged. “I dunno. Sounds weird enough to be right. I’d say ask Jon about it, but obviously…that’s not happening quite yet.”

“This is so fucked,” Tim mumbled, scrubbing a hand down his face in exhaustion. “I hate this job.”

--

Tim was walking in a black room. Kind of. It wasn’t black, really, nor a room—just the concept of space, devoid of color or light.

Tim was somewhere and it was dark.

He picked a direction and walked. The space he was in was hot, a dry stale heat pressing in on him from all sides. It was like that prickling heat from being too close to a campfire, where the heat should singe your leg hairs. It should have been painful. He should have been sweating. But he felt…good. Great, even. He felt alive and awake and ready.

He walked for what felt like hours in this dreamscape, not knowing where he was going. He had realized he was dreaming around the point where he noticed he was more floating than walking, being guided like a character in a low-res video game. There was something in the back of his mind nudging him forward, coaxing him along some predetermined route.

Suddenly, he stopped. There was something in front of him, maybe four meters away. He couldn’t see it, but he could sense it. This spot in space was the source of all the heat in this room, the warmth surrounding him that was more accosting than comforting. The feeling surrounding him was all-consuming and it made him feel…all sorts of things. Righteousness, anger, betrayal, pain. They were all the emotions he had been feeling at Great Yarmouth, built up upon each other, each idolized in their own way. They were the feelings he had chosen to worship when Jon had stopped being his friend and started being his enemy, when Sasha had been discovered to have never been, when he had looked Nikola in its eyeless face and pressed the detonator. It all felt good to feel.

All of a sudden Tim was struck with a sudden knowledge. If he accepted this heat, this painful destruction, he would never need to worry about being hurt again. He could protect himself, the loved ones he had left (if he still had any), and burn the hearts out of anyone who dared hurt him or his ilk. No one would ever leave him again except on his terms. He understood what the Lightless Flame meant, what it promised, what it could give him in return. He would be able to live on the destruction of those he deemed unworthy of the love of the pyre, those who had so much to lose. Like he had had, once. Like Danny had had. Like Sasha. They had had the world before them, and it was stripped away. The Stranger had the potential to take over the world and he had destroyed every last bit of success it had. And it felt good. He could chase that feeling again and again and again with a family that knew what it was like to love and lose and destroy.

All he had to do was take it in.

-

7 Days After Great Yarmouth

Tim woke up gasping for air. He could feel an icy hand on the back of his neck, colder than anything he knew, dragging him back into reality. He opened his eyes, wincing at the harsh light of his hospital room and yes, he was in his hospital room, not a great expanse of nothing nothing nothing, searching for answers. He reached a hand to the back of his head and felt a frozen rag, dripping icy water down the back of his neck, down his spine.

A nurse was at his bedside, a thin woman with dark blonde hair, checking his vitals with a delicate hand. “Welcome back, Mr. Stoker. You gave us a scare, there.”

“Wha-”

“Your monitor was beeping like mad last night. Said you had a fever of 42, but the machine was probably broken. Thermometer put you more at 40, but still, concerningly high. Gave you some fever reducers and a cool rag, kept an eye on you. Are you feeling any better?”

Tim rolled his neck, hearing his joints crack as he did so. “Uh-” He took stock of his faculties. He felt great, actually. No pain, no stiffness, just a tingling warmth spread throughout his body. Something about that felt...right. But he wasn’t sure why. “Yeah, fine.” He pulled the rag out from under his neck and noticed, for the first time, he was naked.

“Sorry,” she smiled apologetically at the flush that spread across his face and neck. “First rule of fevers: tight clothing comes off. It seemed to have done its job though. You were out for a whole day. According to our thermometers, your temperature’s gone back to normal, but we’d like to keep an eye on you a bit longer, especially with your injuries. They don't seem to be infected, so the fever might have been a latent trauma response to the explosion.” The woman shrugged, her smile light. “Our bodies do crazy things to keep us safe. Even when it hurts.”

“A-apparently so,” Tim nodded softly, squeezing his hands into fists, feeling the nails dig into his palms. At least this wasn’t a dream. He rested his head against the pillows propped behind him and sighed heavily.

The nurse left eventually, when there were no more monitors to check and Tim had promised eight ways to Sunday to press his call button if he needed anything. He settled back into his pillow, listening to the steady beep of his heart amplified on the monitor. The TV droned low in the background, newscasters revisiting today’s tragedies. Had they been on the news when it happened? Tim huffed and shook his head. Not if Elias had a say in it. Probably chalked it up to a gas main.

He grabbed the remote strapped to his bed, and flipped through the channels aimlessly, looking for something interesting…or at least to lull him back to sleep. Kids programming, soap operas, more news, interior design—wait. Tim flipped back to the news channel. Demolition of an old primary school. The reporter spoke to a heated young woman, round cheeks framed by wild curls, who spoke to the camera about the memories and traditions the school represented, how unfair it was to lose such an important monument to the history of her town.

“A shame, isn’t it?”

Tim started at the voice, whipping his head to the door, gripping the remote tight in his hand. The woman standing in the doorway of his room was short and wide, hair cropped close. She wore a grey tank top and black shorts, revealing tattoos of flames licking up the backs and sides of her calves. Something about her face was odd. A little too smooth? The grin on her face seemed wider than normal smiles were meant to be, drooping a little too low.

“Pardon?” Tim managed, grip on the call button tight, even if there was…something keeping him from pressing it.

“About the school.” She pointed to the television as she crossed the threshold, crossing her legs as she sat in the cushy visitor’s chair next to his bed. “So many childhood memories, so many job opportunities, so many opportunities for self-improvement-” She spat the word with malice. “Truly some of my favorite forms of destruction.”

Tim stared at her dumbly. “Do…am I supposed to know who you are?” Her returned chuckle burned him from the inside.

“Oh,” she crooned, more to herself than to Tim. “For keepers of the Eye, you are all so stupid. I am Jude Perry and I serve the Lightless Flame. And, if I’m right, you do too.”

#fanfic to a tea #tim stoker #martin blackwood #desolation tim #lonely martin #jude perry #the desolation #the unknowing #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #tma fic #tma season 3

[wsmiles]

miles park → youtube channel              ↳ miles away synopsis — miles goes ghost hunting with minho, in their attempts to sacrifice the ceo of yuseong and to call upon the demons, they realise that the only demons were the ones inside their mind :(( word count — 597 mentions — @wsminho

   ghost gear in hand. the matching aesthetic of a black attire, hanging from his shoulders, cap pulling over his ebony strands, scepticism pulling across his features as brows knit together at the sight of minho and his cinnamon roll backpack. a little too bright for the occasion but matching the other’s energy all the better. the other has been mentioning the presence of a looming demon spirit appearing within the yuseong hallways, practice rooms lit but an unknown residence only to be snuffed out by acts of cowardice. something about playing phoenix music during the late hours of the night, persistent on not changing the track. an interesting demon... an interesting musical demon with an interesting taste in music. perhaps, it was no demon— but rather, some sort of lost soul, a pensive spirit awaiting exorcism, using music as a means of communication. and miles believes neither. 

     post it notes scattering the room in question, with requests of song change only to be met with a harsh decline the following night. an amusing hope that perhaps somewhere in this building of collective pain and suffering, done by the ceo yoo himself, that the souls of those who died or continue to die everyday would come in waves. a hope, yet again, snuffed out by reality as digits move to switch on the ghost radio. the blaring sound of white noise filling the room and he begins to feel the impending disappointment ravage the expectations that minho had sold to him. and he is quick to turn the device off, sliding it back into the confines of his pocket, “you’re telling me there’s a ghost in here that listens to phoenix’s album but won’t communicate anything else?” he gets a prompt nod, affirmation rolling off the other’s tongue. positive as can be, and minho only receives a slight roll of the eyes. stygian hues tired from the excuses. 

     digits move to rake back ebony strands, revealing hues more dulled than before, resolve weak as can be. “lets just sacrifice ceo yoo.” he suggests, turning back to minho. remember to censor the ceo’s name when you upload it, you idiot. a mental note. this way, it’ll really confuse the audience, what better way to engage the viewers than to throw an unsuspecting beep at every mention of the ceo’s name. 

     candles laid out in front, a circle of salt encasing the two ghost hunters. a proper decorum to summon a ritual in the name of vengeance for all those who befell the unfortunate fate of being subjected to ceo yoo. a worthy cause, as hands came to meet for a moment, enchantments leaving from hopeful prayers and upturned corners, only to be met with the silence of the 3am ticking at his wrist. all he needed was just one thing, one solid proof and he would have transitioned into a believer, sadly cast upon by obvious disappointment. turning to minho, “can’t say i’m surprised.” dusting a little entrance within the salt circle for easy access to this flesh prison, readily offering his soul to any demon who dare to intrude. only to be met by the screaming silence in the dead of night.  

     the realisation that demons were not those whom lurk in the dark, but rather, the thoughts that haunt your dreams at night. the forever looming fear of losing, the thoughts of insecurities that ravage your reverie, the past that eats you whole and the unjustifiable disease of not feeling enough. the only true demon is being a part of the industry, being a part of yuseong. 

#solo. #welcome to the circus #idk what this is #its 2am and #this is a fart out of my ass #doesnt qualify for tokens but #at least #i wont be booted #for no inactivity agjkIRJGARIJFAI #oop

[cloudsnbones]

Ok so quick note, thanks to @wonderofasunrise whose blog I found these prompts on and thus which proceeded to steal. this is no. 11. :)

Excuse for being lazy: also yes this is only meant to be short so like sorry for not expanding on things at all. Perhaps I shall make up for that next time ;)

This is set in s8 around wintery times.

Please enjoy :3

“I thought I would be okay with just being friends but… All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore.”

Kerry lay quietly, her cheek resting on Susan’s chest, her eyes shut in a warm, pensive bliss – two souls in harmony.

Their illicit affair had begun as a matter of surprise to them both; after a night of heavy drinking and deep confessions they awoke the next morning sharing a bed, and what had started as a one-night stand became a regular thing after replicating the original night twice over.

Not only had their sexual relationship grown in a way that neither could have imagined, but an understanding, a friendship had also developed which had allowed themselves to trust wholeheartedly and without the fear of judgment for the first time in a very long time.

Kerry had indeed gotten accustomed to arriving home and finding Susan outside waiting for her, she had started to prepare dinners big enough for two in anticipation of an inevitable phone call asking to spend the night. Everything was falling into place. Therefore, it could never have lasted.

“I think we should end it.”

Whatever ‘it’ was. The nebulous nature of their relationship was growing all too much for Kerry, because, to tell the truth, she had fallen.

She didn’t think that there had ever been a time when she wasn’t in love with Susan Lewis, but to have been finally exposed in full to that euphoria, to live out her long-term dream, one she’d barely registered before now, was bittersweet…when she knew that Susan would never, could never requite what she felt inside.

Susan was surprised at the statement. She had never really thought about ending it, actually ending it. To be honest, since this whole thing started, she hadn’t really thought about anything at all. She knew that they were never going to be a “they”, Kerry Weaver and Susan Lewis: ER Power Couple, but she couldn’t help feel a little, disappointed at the idea of losing her? Although, she wasn’t really going to be lost, just not there in the same way. It just seemed really random, why now? Had she been planning this for a while? It was going well, she had thought, but knowing Kerry perhaps to her this wasn’t right. Anyway, best to end things whilst they’re good right? She clung to that thought in the hope that it might fill the suspicious hole she felt deep down in her chest.

The two promised to stay friends, it’s always nice to have an ally. And Susan was just fine with that, one-hundred-percent completely fine.

“23-year-old male, multiple head lacs, altered, LOC, vitals stable, BP 120/80,” announced the new EMT Danielle as she tried to shake her overgrown fringe out of her eyes.

It was just then as Susan and Kerry approached to take the trauma that the man in question lent over and wretched blood all over Danielle’s jacket causing Kerry and Susan to jump back a little before grabbing the sides of the gurney so that she could sort herself out. The man started to lose consciousness again as they raced to get him inside.

Danielle shed her jacket leaving it on the tarmac of the ambulance bay revealing a white vest and tattoo sleeves before she continued her debrief whilst following the pair to the trauma room, “Received 50 of Lidocaine at the scene, complains of dizziness and neck pain,” she continued.

As they entered the trauma room Susan finally took a look at the woman speaking and what said woman was wearing, “Nice top,” she said her eyes lingering a little bit too long.

“Thanks,” replied Danielle looking down at herself briefly before smiling to show her gratitude.

“LIFT ON 1, 2, 3!” Kerry ordered loudly cutting their little interaction short.

And as Susan lent over to start working on the man she felt Danielle put something small into her pocket whispering, “I’ll see you later.”

She stared as the woman left the trauma room only to look back around to see Kerry watching her icily.

After the man was stabilised, Kerry and Susan left the trauma room ripping their gloves and their aprons off as they did so before tossing them into the trash.

They both started in the same direction, practically colliding, Kerry extending an arm to institute a satisfactory, colleague-appropriate space between them.

“Tough trauma.”

“Yeah, I s’pose…Hey, did I tell you that Susie went to see that film they’ve all been talking about, Shrek(?) the other day, oh my god I have not heard her be so excited about something in months, and the way she talked about the donkey in it you would think that the two were going out, but alas no. Apparently, he is indeed taken by a dragon as is so often the case with actually desirable men,” she ranted enthusiastically putting on a heightened English accent to emphasise the slander.

Kerry listened quietly as she felt Susan’s words dig into her further and further, she should be happier for her, she knew that, but everything was closing in on her and she didn’t like it.

They entered the Doctor’s Lounge and as soon as the door shut behind them and it was clear to Kerry that no one else was in there, she started, “Listen, I don’t wanna make a big deal outta it but I just wanted to let you know that it’s considered a little inappropriate to get distracted by pretty EMTs when working a trauma at least from a management perspective, now as it’s never happened before obviously it’s not a problem but just so you know for any future interactions that they should be left till after you’ve finished working on the patient.”

Susan’s smile failed immediately at the mini reprimand. “Kerry it was nothing I promise.”

“Uhuh – well even if that is the case it’s still inappropriate,” Kerry said pointing her nose in the air.

Kerry’s stiffness on the subject angered Susan who huffed before retorting, “And even if it WAS something I don’t think that’s any of your business, you know Kerry Weaver, not everything is about you I realise, ok, that you’re the only person in YOUR world but that’s not the same for the rest of us,” as she raised her voice, she stepped closer and closer to Kerry refusing to break eye contact for a second.

Kerry was frozen in place, her lip quivering slightly and her eyes conveying only a hint of pain and fear behind their broken shields.

They were practically toe-to-toe, and their proximity almost immediately caused Susan to calm down as if her body was anticipating Kerry’s touch, Kerry’s smell, Kerry’s warmth.

The electricity burning Kerry’s skin as her beloved towered over her, not knowing, never knowing, what those words meant to her. Why although dealing with hurtful comments was part of the job, was always part of the job, they felt different coming from her.

But as cupid’s taunting strings gradually lured them together, the door burst open loudly causing the women to practically jump out of their skin in order to create distance between them.

It was Chuny; “Doctor Weaver there’s a guy wandering around the admit desk I think he’s your patient, Mr. Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Chuny,” Kerry replied a little too shrilly, her eyes still fixed on Susan. She stayed there for a few more seconds before finally awakening in herself the willpower to sort out the wanderer.

As the last sounds of her crutch hitting the floor faded away into the dissonant noise of the ER Chuny joked, “Did you just have it from Weaver, I bet you didn’t miss those in Phoenix!” before closing the door and leaving.

But ‘missing Weaver’ was really the only thing Susan was able to do at that moment, she turned towards the window to wipe away a tear. Then, she shook herself from head to toe, set her face back to neutrality and spun around so she could go back to work.

Kerry stood alone, her arms restless as if they were missing something, or someone, her kitchen echoing with emptiness. As she stared half-heartedly at the risotto she was making she heard a buzz followed by three rapid knocks. Kerry pulled herself out of her reverie, grabbed her crutch and headed over to the front door.

Upon opening, she saw Susan shivering in a short tan trench coat, her arms wrapped around herself, her right foot tapping the ground beneath her. When she heard the click of the latch she lifted her head and the expression Kerry saw sent a shiver through her, Susan’s eyes were wide and deep inside them there seemed to be some sort of lingering discomfort.

“Hey,” she said shyly before pulling the door to and stepping out into the cold winter’s night also, “What are you doing here?”

“Um…I’m not sure to be honest,” was the esteemed reply.

“Aren’t you cold? Do you want t-”

“Kerry there’s something I have to say and if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I ever will so.”

“Uh…ok, um, go right ahead.”

“I’m so tired, of all this of going to back to the old normal, whatever the hell that was, you know I-” she broke off, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions started to get the better of her, “I thought I would be okay with just being friends but…All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore. And even when you’re mad and being a bitch, I just want to hold you because then I know everything’ll be all right.” And on those final words she broke down, it could have been the cold, it could have been the pressures of moving back to a town where no one really remembered her, but in that moment, it didn’t matter what the exact cause was because her Susan was upset and it yanked at her heartstrings.

The women stood there silently, Susan looking at the floor and Kerry looking at Susan, frozen in light of the revelation, trying to calculate what best to do. When Kerry still didn’t say anything, Susan raised her head once more to look at her and being met only with an unreadable, blank expression, she felt she could take a hint.

Not wanting to stand in the scene of her rejection any longer Susan said, “Goodnight,” in a dejected, barely audible voice before turning around and heading down the steps leading up to the house. And it was this that triggered Kerry’s ability to move once more.

“Wait!” she called out, as she reached her hand out for the banister and tried to rush down the stairs, but her hurriedness and the light frost worked against her and as Susan turned around Kerry practically tumbled into her arms.

And at this intimacy, there was only one thing left for them really, because love doesn’t require logical thinking, sometimes all it needs is an impulse.

Kerry pulled herself up muttering a word of thanks before running her hand through Susan’s hair and slowly, softly bringing her down for a kiss.

And as a thousand fireworks went off in their minds, they simultaneously knew that “they” would last forever.

#kerry weaver #kerry x susan #susan lewis #er #nbc er #ficlet #drabble #kerry weaver x susan lewis #angst #fluff #aghhhh sorry again #better than nothing though right #also sorry if the medical stuff is wrong #that's not why i'm here #i don't think it's sooooo inaccurate??? #also ive scheduled this for like the middle of the night where i am so yeah whatever you say i will be waking up to and will define my day #remember that #i don't want to proof read this again any mistakes that are there now remain there #my writing

[paladin-lynx]

Go Godot, Yeah!

Author’s Notes: This was inspired by Certified Weirdo’s Ace Attorney mod for Friday Night Funkin’ and a comment about it from a friend of mine that was something akin to, “The thing about the mod is that I can totally imagine Godot going into back alleys and rap battling against other lawyers because he’s just Like That.” And I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so here we are. Go show Friday Night Funkin’ and Certified Weirdo some love, too! I banged this out when I had some free time during work, lol. I can continue this or other FNF-inspired pieces if people show interest. But for now, enjoy!

Ships Involved: Phoenix Wright x Miles Edgeworth (WrightWorth/NaruMitsu) if you squint

Setting: Non-specific, but I had it in my head that it’s during Trials and Tribulations (AA3) with Miles coming back to America early.

Trigger/Content Warnings: None

CONTAINS VARIOUS SPOILERS FOR ORIGINAL ACE ATTORNEY TRILOGY!

“It’s good to have you back, Miles.”

Miles blinked before hurriedly averting his gaze, clearing his throat. “Yes, well...I suppose it is nice to be back, in some ways.”

Phoenix smiled, able to spot the tinge of pink in Miles’s cheeks. Miles could take praise about his prosecuting skills just fine – he’d even gloat when someone commented on how talented he was – but when it came to something softer and more sentimental like this, he without a doubt found himself lost for words. Phoenix couldn’t help finding it kind of adorable, which of course led to him taking any opportunity he could to get Miles to blush.

It had been a while since they’d gotten to simply spend time together, but they both felt too antsy to just sit around and talk. And so they’d agreed to take a walk together and catch up. It had been a while since Miles had mulled around the L.A. streets, but not much had changed. And while their city wasn’t the prettiest or the safest by any means, it was still home. Phoenix knew that Miles felt more at ease overseas with his new responsibilities and with not having to deal with the bullshittery that came with being a lawyer in America, but Phoenix also knew that this would always be home for them. Miles would always have a place – and people – to come back to.

They walked rather aimlessly, having no specific destination in mind, although they’d have to get back to their respective homes eventually. But they soon found themselves at the train station and Phoenix smiled a bit to himself. He had barely left L.A. before becoming a lawyer, but this station was awfully familiar to him now with how often he had to travel to Kurain Village. He remembered when Maya had first left and he’d raced here to catch her before she was gone, making her promise that they’d see each other again. Of course, their reunion after that wasn’t the most ideal with Maya once again ending up behind bars, but now years later Phoenix couldn’t bring himself to be too upset with how things had gone. It just seemed par for the course at this point, and he wasn’t sure which was more concerning: the fact that events like that were so commonplace or the fact that he’d become numb to such things.

“Feeling nostalgic, Wright?”

Phoenix was snapped out of his reverie by Miles’s voice and he blinked at the other man. Miles was giving him a knowing half-smile, quirking an eyebrow, and now it was Phoenix’s turn to blush and look away, out at the tracks. “Maybe a bit. I’ve been coming here a lot lately. If you told me a few years ago that I’d be making regular pilgrimages to a village of spirit mediums, I’d call you crazy.”

Miles huffed out a chuckle, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. “I think if anyone told us even the smallest detail of what we’ve been up to since first entering the courtroom, we’d call them crazy. You see why I felt such the urgent need to flee the country.”

Phoenix broke into a little grin, nudging Miles with his elbow. “Including having to fake your own death?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope. I mourned you, Miles! You’ve gotta see it from my perspective. You didn’t even give an explanation. You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“Perhaps you should try seeing it from my perspective. I was going through quite a lot. I...wasn’t thinking clearly. I know now that the way I departed hurt people, but it wasn’t exactly on my mind then.”

“I know, I know,” Phoenix replied softly. Despite still being sore at Miles’s rather callous method of running away, Phoenix didn’t want to actually upset him or bring back bad memories. He knew that had been a rough time for Miles.

And so they stood there, on the platform, just watching the tracks in comfortable silence. Phoenix knew there’d be a train zooming by soon enough, but for now it was peacefully quiet.

“Trite!”

Phoenix barely even noticed how his shoulders seemed to instantly stiffen at that familiar voice and infuriating nickname. Furrowing his brow, he slowly turned and sure enough, by one of the shelters on the platform, was Godot with his usual grin, his visor glowing bright red in the low light of the station. Phoenix wouldn’t have questioned running into him in the city considering Godot most likely lived here, too, but he definitely had questions when he noticed the large speakers behind Godot and the microphone in the prosecutor’s hand. And of course, as always, his other hand was occupied by a cup of coffee. It was a miracle this man wasn’t dead yet with the obscene amount of caffeine he consumed.

“Who is that?” Miles asked, squinting slightly at Godot. “He seems familiar somehow...”

“Prosecutor Godot,” Phoenix greeted carefully, also to answer Miles’s question. “What, uh...What are you doing here?”

Godot just continued to grin at them. “I was waiting for you to show up, in fact. A little kitten told me you were heading out this way.”

“I don’t believe that’s how the phrase goes,” Miles commented whilst Phoenix just pulled a face at the choice of words.

“Don’t bother, Edgeworth. He’s just like this.” Phoenix took in a breath and looked to Godot again. Did that mean Godot had just been waiting here for him like some kind of creep? Who could have told Godot where he and Miles were going? Actually, there was one person. “...Maya?”

Godot chuckled, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. “I see you’re just as slow on the uptake outside the courtroom as you are inside it, Trite. Like a toddler seeing a magic trick for the first time.”

“He’s not wrong,” Miles muttered, causing Phoenix to give him a rather harsh nudge with his elbow.

“Whose side are you on?!”

“Well, you did mention he’s a prosecutor, so technically—”

“Oh, can it, Miles,” Phoenix huffed, ignoring the little amused smirk on Miles’s face, even if it made his heart skip a beat or two. He looked back at Godot with a scowl. “Alright, so I’m here. What of it?”

“Think fast,” Godot snickered, tossing something to Phoenix. The defense attorney definitely wasn’t prepared and fumbled for a moment before managing to clamp his hands around the object, frowning down at it.

Miles peeked at it over his shoulder. “A...microphone?” He looked over at Godot – who was still holding his own microphone – seemingly trying to figure out what was happening. Meanwhile, Phoenix was also trying to figure out what the absolute fuck was going on.

“What’s this for?” he asked cautiously, narrowing his eyes over at Godot.

The other man’s grin never wavered and he brandished his microphone. “What do you say to a little competition? A genuine battle between men to see who’s best.”

“Don’t we do that enough during trials?”

“There are countless angles to every person, Trite. Just like how you can spend every day of your life experimenting with brews in your attempts to find perfection. You may be a half-decent lawman, but that’s just one side of you.” Godot tilted his head in amusement. “I’m curious if you can hold your own on a different kind of battlefield. One that requires a bit more coordination than how you have a lucky streak of stumbling into conclusions in the courtroom.”

Phoenix was still lost, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. He finally just turned to Miles helplessly. Miles thought for a long moment – Phoenix could practically see the gears turning in his head – before he looked to Phoenix. “I believe...he’s asking you to have a singing contest.”

“Oh no no no,” Godot cut in before Phoenix could even fathom what his companion had said. “Close but no cigar, kid. Not singing. Any poor excuse of a soul can cobble together a tune and kindergarten-level lyrics.” He pointed his microphone at Phoenix. “I want you to rap battle me.”

Phoenix just stared, blinking several times, before looking at Miles again. “Am I dreaming? Or high?”

“No, you’re very much awake and the amount of sane you usually are,” Miles replied, crossing his arms. Phoenix hated how intrigued his friend looked.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, Phoenix turned back to Godot. “So you came here, set up a speaker and mics, and have just been waiting for me to randomly come here just so you can ask me to rap against you? What’ll that prove? And how the hell is rapping more complicated than singing? It’s just talking to a beat. Anyone can do that.”

“Ha!” Godot shook his head. “So simple-minded, Trite. It’s like you’re still a boy instead of a man, seeing the world through your little keyhole. Rapping requires you to think on your feet. The pace is more urgent. Singing is going through your evidence piece by piece and praying to whatever god you follow that something sticks out to you. Rapping is like having the ultimate penalty hanging over your head the entire time, the guillotine blade waiting to slam down on your sorry neck. So I’ve been curious, Trite...” Godot grinned again. “You think you can keep up with me?”

Something about the way Godot said it, how he still had his microphone pointed at Phoenix like a sword, and that goddamn smug expression on his face lit a fire in Phoenix that he’d never felt before. He had never been the most musically inclined, but someone had to put Godot in his place. And here they were.

So he gritted his teeth and stepped forward, tightening the grip on his microphone. “It’ll be you who’s struggling to keep up with me, stoplight.”

“Ha! That’s the spirit,” Godot cackled, slamming his hand onto a button on the speakers so that they crackled to life.

Miles hummed thoughtfully from where he stood watching. “Ridiculous...But I can’t say this won’t be interesting.”

#this is so silly but i hope it's entertaining at least lol #Ace Attorney #aa phoenix wright #aa miles edgeworth #aa godot #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #godot #AA spoilers #Ace Attorney spoilers #AA #lynx tales #mine #writing #fic #fanfiction #WrightWorth #NaruMitsu #FNF #Friday Night Funkin #crossover #AU #Certified Weirdo #i don't have a fancy queue tag

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Complementary (The INKED Collection)

Masterlist

THE INKED COLLECTION:  A series of full-length one-shots detailing the stories of various Haikyuu boys, soulmate marks, and tattoo cover-ups.

Word Count: 6.8k 

tw: Death, blood, battle, major character death, disbelief in the system 

Pairing: Warlord!Kuroo x fem!ninja reader

Genre: Major angst, Edo period soulmate AU

Summary: Your tattoo has dictated your fate from what Clan you would support, to what training you would do. A simple cover-up has changed your life much more than you originally anticipated. But what else can you expect from the fickle warlord you call a close friend?

Tattoo image is from Google!

AN:  Thank you for joining me on the first one-shot of “The INKED Collection”! More one-shots to come, but they’ll be on the fluffier side 😅 This will be a side project, so new updates will not be scheduled~!

Complementary 

Everyone had a perfect match. A complementary pair. At birth, a mark appears on your skin to designate what clan you belonged to. Where your soulmate would find you. Owls flocked to Fukurodani, weasels escaped to Itachiyama, and eagles soared in Shiratorizawa. Your tattoos were placed in the same spot as your soul-mate, designs mirror reflections of it. If one person had a black design, the other would have a similar design in white. Your head snapped up as someone entered your room, weapon in hand as you prepared for the worst.

“(L.Name), you’ve been reassigned.” (E/c) eyes widened.

“Reassigned?” Your grip relaxed, tucking your weapon away. 

Kenma cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Lord Kuroo has asked that you serve as his personal guard.” He pulled out a scroll, handing it to you. “As you’re aware, there’s been an increase in movements by the Itachiyama and Shiratorizawa clans. More threats have come in.”

“But I’m meant to-”

“You’re meant,” golden eyes flashed dangerously, “to do whatever your Lord commands.” 

You bristled, jaw clenching. Letting out a sharp breath, you hissed, “as you say, my Lord.” 

“Very well. Lord Kuroo should be in his chambers still.”

With a stiff bow, you trudged down the hall to find Kuroo. Your hand settled on the handle of the bamboo sword that hung on your hip, grasping it loosely. As a woman trained in some of the deadliest forms of combat, you weren’t meant to be a simple bodyguard. No, for all these years you’ve used your skills for espionage. After all, when there are warring clans and a sharp decline in kunoichi, or female ninjas, there was less suspicion and focus on you whenever you were in the field. You scoffed, knuckles turning white. The paper crumpled in your shaking fists before you shoved it into the inner pocket of your kimono. You’d find Kuroo later. Right now, you needed to take care of your rage before you treaded into dangerous waters. Whipping around, you made your way towards the training grounds. 

Storming in, you were thankful to find it empty for once. Usually there would be a few people already, but considering that it was still early in the day, the room was deserted. Making your way to a corner with wooden posts, you shrugged off your kimono leaving only the inner layer. Before, you used to keep the kimono on in an effort to hide your soulmate mark. However, since getting your tattoo, you felt more confident in revealing your skin. 

“This is a beautiful mark,” Kai, a Nekoma samurai who dabbled as the Clan’s resident tattoo artist, commented, fingers outlining your shoulder blade. He admired the white cat stretched in a moon outline that laid directly on your left shoulder blade. You hummed in response. “Are you sure?” Kai glanced between the mark and his design. He would be placing a tattoo of a red and orange phoenix surrounded by peonies directly over the mark. 

“I’ve thought about this for years now, Kai-san. Please, if you will.” 

“Very well, (L.Name)-san.” Kai shuffled, preparing the nara ink and double-checking the tebori tattoo tool. “Please relax, and I will begin.”

“Thank you.” You took in a deep breath to relax your muscles. Each push of the tool sent pain coursing through your veins. The first few movements had your jaws clenching, but you forced yourself to breathe through it. You’ve been through worse pains before. 

Removing the bamboo sword, you let it drop to the side. You tied the extra fabric to your waist, letting it hang as you flexed your fingers, sharp metal blades clinked as finger-tips tapped together. The silver gloves glistened in the morning light, weak yellow beams bouncing off as you surveyed them. These were your pride and joy. Neko-te, or cat’s paws, were a kuniochi’s favorite weapon. It was a prerequisite to train with them when becoming a Nekoma ninja. But, you enjoyed the simple irony of it and found it fitting to use as your primary weapon of choice. Though it was often best used in covert affairs, being able to use these in larger settings could work so long as the sharp claws were dipped in poison and provided that you were agile enough. 

You crouched down, closing your eyes. Wooden posts disappeared in your mind’s eyes, being replaced by three armed enemies. The world went silent, even the faint birdsong disappeared as the pounding of your blood filled your ears. You took a steadying breath through your nose, out your mouth. (E/c) eyes snapped open, launching yourself at the posts. Your dominant hand flew forward, imagining that you were swiping at someone’s neck. Ducking, you heard the swish of a wooden sword, or shinai, cutting through air before you twirled around, jutting your leg out to knock the assailant to the ground. Your hands braced itself on their chest, leaving gashes on the flesh as you sprung over the body. Landing lightly on your feet, you whirled around, another enemy was racing towards you while brandishing a knife. A rapid side-step before you were grabbing onto their arms, carefully guiding them away from your body. Claws sliced through their clothes as your grip tightened, slamming them into the ground and twisting their arm back so that they dropped their weapon. Kicking it away, you smashed their head into the ground, incapacitating them. You froze in your kneeling position before you straightened up, surveying your surroundings. 

Deep gouges were left in the dirt where you’d somersaulted over the imaginary foe, dust clouds just now settling. Loud noises snapped you out of your reverie, causing you to glance behind you. The sun had risen over your head, signaling that training would begin soon. Men were huddled in groups, idly chatting while they waited for their instructor. A few had already begun sparring. You rolled your shoulders, turning back to the posts. You proceeded to dream up more scenarios, incorporating strategies that featured your neko-te. 

A voice disrupted your concentration in the middle of one such exercise. “(L.Name), please come here.” Your arm froze mid-swing as the metallic claws clinked together. Your head snapped up to look behind you, casting your gaze to him. 

“How’d you know I was here?” You grumbled, walking towards him.

“Yaku told me.” Hazel eyes glinted mischievously. It was rare for Kuroo himself to join in the training. Kuroo turned back to the group, letting his kusarigama pool at the corner of the space before picking up a shinai. In battle, Kuroo often preferred using the kusarigama due to its versatility. Being able to swing the weighted chain allowed him to defend and attack from a distance, and being able to switch to the blade end when it came to close contact made it the most optimal. According to him, anyways. He faced his audience once more. “Before we start today’s training, I will spar with (L.Name).”

“Her?” Someone scoffed. (E/c) eyes narrowed as you found the offending party. A grey-haired male towered over everyone. “What does a woman know about kenjutsu?” Your jaw clenched as your eyes flashed dangerously. It wasn’t that it was a bad question. After all, kenjutsu was still a traditionally male technique. Women learning it was practically unheard of. You just hated when people underestimate your ability.

“Excellent question, Lev. Why doesn’t she demonstrate?” Kuroo smiled pleasantly, rolling his shoulders back. 

Slipping off your neko-tes, you kicked up a matching shinai, catching it in your hands. You tossed it into the air slightly, twirling it. “Don’t hold back on me now, my Lord.” You stepped back, adjusting your grip on your shinai before you bowed mockingly. 

“Now, (L.Name), when have I ever?” Kuroo smirked, turning towards you. You rolled your shoulder. “Ready?”

You crouched, preparing your weapon. “When am I not, my Lord?” 

With a cry, Kuroo brandished his weapon and stalked towards you. Both hands grasped the shinai as you parried the blow to the side, stepping to the opposite side as you attempted to elbow Kuroo’s head. Kuroo ducked, side-stepping as he swung his shinai towards your feet. You hopped up, pulling your shinai close to you as you rolled forward and away. Off-balanced slightly, Kuroo stumbled allowing you to steady yourself and straighten up. “Don’t embarrass yourself now, my Lord,” you tease. Kuroo growled, his carefree look ebbing away as hazel pools darkened. Circling each other like predators, you kept yourself close to the ground as Kuroo held himself up proudly. In this game of cat and mouse, you were determined to be the cat. 

With a smirk, you slapped the shinai against the ground, sending a cloud of dust into Kuroo’s face. He let out a startled grunt raising an arm to cover his eyes, his grip on his weapon slackened. You darted forward, slicing upwards and knocking the shinai out of his grip. You grabbed his arm, using his own weight to throw him onto the ground. Kuroo’s body crashed awkwardly, his head flying back. As the dust settled, he found your shinai against his neck, your foot on his back. “That’s not fair,” he grunted. 

“Do you yield?” More pressure was added to his back. Kuroo rolled his eyes, nodding. Stepping off of him, he turned over to see an offered hand. You pulled him to his feet, letting your hand drop as soon as he was up. He brushed the dirt off of his robes, turning back to his men. 

“Wasn’t that cheating?” The same male protested, his arms crossed.

“(L.Name) is a well-trained kunoichi,” Kuroo explained, “using unorthodox methods,” he shot you a look, humour sparking in his eyes, “is well within her repertoire and is something I should have expected.” Kuroo cleared his throat. “You may not know the background of the enemies you face. That is why you should come to expect anything and everything in battle and have a strategy to combat it.” 

Yaku stepped forward, standing on the other side of Kuroo. “Alright men, I will pair you up and we will have sparring matches.” As Yaku shouted his orders, Kuroo stepped closer to you.      

“If you wanted to be on top, you should have said something sooner.”

You snorted. “That’s hardly appropriate, my Lord.” 

Kuroo chuckled, a hand gripping your shoulder. “Join me for lunch after this.” 

“As you wish.” You dipped your head to him before heading back to your corner. 

A few hours later, you entered Kuroo’s chambers. Kuroo looked up from the table. Food was laid out, but his focus was on the scroll that he was holding up. “There you are, I was just wondering if I should send someone to find you.” 

You bowed. “My apologies, my Lord. I was busy.”

“Yes, busy training.” He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Please, take a seat.” You kneeled in the spot in front of him, letting your naginata rest across your lap. He cleared his throat, setting the scroll down besides him. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I have requested you to become my bodyguard.” As you opened your mouth to protest, he held a hand up. “Both Kenma and I are worried. The rising state of tension throughout the country leaves us in a vulnerable position, especially if these reports are true.” His hazel eyes scanned your face. “I do not trust anyone else to protect me, but you, (L.Name).” 

You frowned. “If you say it like that, of course I’ll do it, Lord Kuroo.” 

His face relaxed. “Excellent.” He gestured to the food. “Please, help yourself.” After a moment’s hesitation, you picked up a pair of chopsticks, eating some of the food. Kuroo waited for you to take a few bites before also joining in. With your face downturned, you hid your eye-roll. Of course. First matter of business, poison-tester. You snorted. “Is something funny?” Kuroo cocked his head at you. 

“I better not be your only poison-tester,” you swallowed, looking up at him, “otherwise you’ll be in some trouble if you encounter actual assassins.” 

He laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend on using you like that.” 

****

The chilling grates of metal plates grinding against each other filled the air as you shuffled into the dining hall, blood speckled across your cheek. Making his way towards the front of the room, Kuroo took his seat. You kneeled beside him, running a blood-stained rag over the neko-te. On his other side, Kenma sat in a pool of regal red silks. Kenma had remained behind, serving as the strategist behind Nekoma. All around you were bustling bodies, roaring with laughter as the smell of alcohol and blood tainted the stale air. Shiratorizawa’s forces had been pressing on your borders, and so you and Kuroo had led a raid against them, successfully driving them away. This time at least. 

The clang of metal cut the cool night air. The fire of adrenaline ablazed as you cut down body after body. With each body that fell, another surged forward to take its place. Kenma had hoped that the cover of night would help the raid with the element of surprise on-hand. But the Shiratorizawa Clan was more than prepared for such tricks as expected of one of the most powerful clans in the country. Their forces were armed and vicious in their retaliation. You ducked, an arrow flying over your head and burying itself into the enemy you faced. A body fell behind you, causing you to whirl around. Blood dripped down the kusarigama blade that Kuroo wielded, having used it to kill an enemy that had crept upon you. “Duck!” You shout, plucking a spear off of the ground and brandishing it over your head. Kuroo obeyed without a moment’s hesitation, letting the weapon soar over his head to bury itself into the enemy that was behind him.

Back to back, you and Kuroo left a circle of bodies. You would dart forward and engage in hand-to-hand combat while Kuroo whipped his chain around, driving back forces and cutting them down when men got too brave. Claws glistened with blood as you swiped at a man’s hands, forcing him to drop his sword. “I should have made you my bodyguard sooner,” Kuroo hollered over the roar of the battle.

“Of course you would need someone to protect your back, my Lord,” you retorted, cutting down another approaching enemy. 

“Only when it’s you.”

The crimson glow slowly disappeared as you worked the rag harder, the acidic sting of vinegar beginning to overwhelm even your own heightened sense of smell. “Must you do that at the table?” Kenma’s face flashed with disgust as he leaned around Kuroo, glaring down at your hand.

“You know as well as I do that this is a part of my routine, Lord Kenma.” Your dry response caused Kenma to shift his glare to you. He bit his tongue, straightening himself up and averting his eyes.

“It’s improper.” 

You only hummed, closely examining your claws. It’s not like you had never done it at the table before. As kids, this was the first thing that you would do after training or any battle. To drive away the ghosts and demons that followed after a life was taken by bloodstained hands. To forget about the bruises, aches, and calluses you were accumulating. As an adult, you continued this habit, finding solace in the practiced movements. After battles, you would typically seek a seat amongst the retainers closer towards the door, if not outside the hall entirely. You were reserved; being in the center of attention was the last thing you wanted in general, let alone after a battle. Satisfied by how clean they were, you slipped them off and tucked them carefully into your kimono. “Perhaps you should focus more on the celebration than on my behaviour, my Lord.” Kenma clicked his tongue at you, and instead of replying, decided to pour himself a cup of sake. 

“To a successful raid,” Kenma muttered, tapping his cup to Kuroo’s. Kuroo threw his head back, swallowing it. 

“To many more,” you agreed, cup untouched. 

Kuroo stood, another glass shoved into his hands by an eager retainer. “To Nekoma! May more success and honor flow through the blood of this clan.” The room filled with even more roars as more people glowed like cherries. A slight frown tugged at your lips. This would be the perfect time for an ambush or retaliation, you mused. Hardly any of them can stand on their own. Kuroo downed his cup before placing it down onto the table. His black and red armor rustled as he made his way to the entrance. The golden cat on his chest glowed on the backdrop of black under the flickering fire-light. You stood up, gliding towards him. He stepped outside, the cool night air relieving after being in the stuffy room. “You do not have to follow me, (L.Name).”

“As your bodyguard, I believe that’s my duty, my Lord.” 

He let out a soft chuckle. “When will you drop the ‘my Lord’ business?”

You shrugged, stepping to stand besides him as he leaned over the red fencing, eyes roaming the empty garden. You leaned your back against it, arms folded as you gazed back into the room. “You know as well as I do that doing so would be improper.” You snickered, quoting his best friend. Kuroo’s chest shook with stifled laughter. Clearing your throat, “shouldn’t you be in there,” you dipped your head towards the room, “celebrating with your men?”  

He shrugs, straightening up. Kuroo offered a hand towards you. After a moments’ hesitation, you draped your fingers over his, letting his hand caress yours. A soft warmth crept through your body at the touch. With tender movements, he pulled you towards the garden. 

Stepping under the glow of the moonlight, he escorted you to the wooden benches alongside the koi pond. He relinquished his grip on your hand, brushing his robes aside as he sat down. Kuroo looked up at you expectantly, patting the spot besides him. You reluctantly took a seat, worried about how this may look to others. “Do you ever wonder what your soulmate is doing?” Kuroo cast his gaze on to the pond, face blank.  

You swallowed, watching as the two koi fish circled one another. The shimmering reflection of the half-moon hovered on top of them. The white fish gave the illusion of a full moon whereas its black counterpart created the all-too familiar yin and yang. Pale pink blossoms floated along the surface. “Sometimes.” Your fingers played with one another, right foot bouncing. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to meet them, but I fear that I would not be able to restrain myself from the pull.” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. ‘I’ve only felt the pull to one person.’ 

“Mama, why am I doing this?” You stomped your foot, crossing your arms. Chubby fists of a six-year old clenched. Your mother knelt beside you, patting your head. Her robe raised, revealing a flying owl.  

“Do you remember your soul mark?” 

You frowned. “The kitty-cat?”

“Yes, honey.” Your mother pulled you into a hug, patting your back. “Nekoma is the cat Clan. You and your soulmate belong to Nekoma.” She released you, standing up and towering over you. “That’s why we trained you in the neko-te.” You pulled your hands free, unclenching them as you stared at your fingers, imagining the metal gloves that you had been using. 

“But I wanna stay here with you and Papa,” you whined, jutting your lip out.

“(Name).” You jumped, blood chilling at the voice. “Stop your whining.” You turned, gazing up at your father. His arms were crossed, biceps flexed to show the owl, wings outstretched to wrap around his entire bicep. “You are a (L.Name). You will make your family proud and serve your Clan well.” 

“Yes Father.” Your head hung as he patted your head. 

“Now, go get changed. Lord Kuroo will be here soon to pick you up.” 

“I’m leaving now?” Your head snapped up, eyes flicking frantically between your parents. Your mother had a frown on her face. “I thought I was supposed to finish my training first?”

“Lord Kuroo has arranged for you to complete your training on the castle grounds. Now get changed, I won’t ask again.” You bowed, tears welling up in your eyes as you hurried out of the room.

“Is this really for the best?” Your mother’s faint words were the last thing you heard before the door slid shut. 

Returning after changing into the red kimono that your mother had laid out, you froze. Your feet moved on your own as you approached the boy that hid behind the wooden column. “What are you doing here?” 

The boy jumped, whipping around to face you. “My father is here to pick someone up.” 

Your eyes widened as you bowed steeply. “My apologies, Lord Kuroo.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened to match yours, waving his hands aggressively. “You don’t have to bow like that!” His cheeks glowed. “My father is Lord Kuroo. You can just call me Kuroo.” As you straightened up, a booming voice sent shivers down your back. 

“Kuroo! Come here, we’re leaving once she arrives.” 

“C’mon,” Kuroo offered a hand to you. Your cheeks matched your kimono as you took it, surprised at the electricity that shot up your finger-tips and through your body at the contact. A frown crept onto his face as you both looked down at your joined hands. Another shout had you both sprinting towards Lord Kuroo.

“My Lord, this is my daughter, (Name).” 

You let go of Kuroo’s hands, bowing. “I will be in your care, my Lord.” Lord Kuroo surveyed you, giving a final nod. 

“Let’s go.” He spun on his heels, leading you and his son to two horses. Lord Kuroo climbed onto a massive black stallion

“Here, I’ll help you.” Kuroo hoisted you by the waist, placing you onto the chestnut mare. He gave you a wide toothy grin, one of his bottom teeth missing. “I hope that we can be friends.” You nodded shyly, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kuroo climbed onto the horse behind you, snaking his arms around to take the reins. His father clicked his tongue, digging his heel into the horse’s side as he took off down the road. You tried to ignore the electric sparks that filled your body as Kuroo’s warm chest met your back. 

‘Leaving Fukurodani and Mama and Papa won’t be too bad as long as I have a friend like Kuroo Tetsurou by my side,’ you thought as your family home disappeared in the distance.

Kuroo hummed. You both remained silent for a moment longer. The faint babble of the waterfall occupied the silence. Your attention drifted to the stoic male. Focusing on his deep breaths, you allowed your muscles to relax. Soreness from the battle crept in; your eyelids began to droop as a sense of calm caressed your body. “You should rest.” Kuroo glanced down at you, breaking the peaceful spell.

“Only after you do, my Lord.” 

“Then we shall both go to bed now,” he murmured, standing up and offering his hand once more. You escorted him to his room, bading him good night as he stepped inside. The door slid shut, and his night guard stepped in front of it.

“Take care of him, Yamamoto.” 

“I will. Good night, (L.Name)-san.”    

****

Tensions were high, thick enough that even a butcher’s cleaver would not be able to slice through it. Your eyes shifted from one grim face to another when the door to the war-room suddenly slid open. You crouched quickly, hand falling on the weapon at your hip. “You started without me?”

You relaxed at the familiar sight. Kuroo stood, dipping his head slightly. “My apologies, Lord Bokuto. I was not aware that you would be arriving so soon.”

Bokuto stepped in, his mere presence filling the room. You made eye-contact with the male who stepped beside him, nodding at him. Gunmetal blue eyes twinkled as he returned your nod. “We left as soon as we received your message. You know this affects Fukurodani as much as it affects Nekoma.” The duo walked towards you. Bokuto slid into the seat beside Kuroo, Akaashi stood behind him. You took a step back, taking your place beside Akaashi. 

Kuroo cleared his throat, sitting back down. “Recent reports state that Itachiyama and Shiratorizawa have started to collaborate. With Nekoma in between their territories, we will be at risk if this news is in fact true.” Kuroo gestured towards Bokuto, who sat impassively. “I have invited Fukurodani here to discuss our strategies of attack in the case that both Clans decide to attack.” 

You zoned out, scanning the room once more. All around you were familiar faces. You had grown up in this clan. The country constantly teetered on the precipice of war, and you were more than aware of the outcomes. Each battle, from a small border skirmish to a full-scale invasion, ended the same. Some of these faces would disappear for good. Wives would lose husbands, children would lose their fathers. Families torn apart for what, power? Greed? What you would give for a peaceful world. A world where you could be in the arms of your soulmate as you both attended a hanami. Or at least a world where you can have mundane things and experience any other form of domesticity. Kuroo cleared his throat, snapping you out of your trance. “The meeting is over, (L.Name).”

“So it is.” You straightened up, making a move towards the door.

“Wait a moment.” Kuroo grabbed your hand. You looked over to him.

“Yes, my Lord?” He pulled a hand out of his kimono, presenting you with a white chrysanthemum kanzashi. You stared at the hairpiece, carefully looking at the white blossom that sat on a bed of bright green leaves. “What is this for?”

He cleared his throat, turning his face forward as he surveyed his clan-mates filing out of the war room. “Your hair is getting longer. As war approaches, this will ensure that your hair does not obstruct your vision.” A rosy tint dusted your cheeks. If you had spared the warlord a glance, you would notice a similar one creeping up his. 

“I see.” You carefully picked it up, turning it over in your hands. “Thank you, my Lord.” You made a move to put it in your hair, only for Kuroo to do it for you. The pink roses bloomed scarlet at the contact. You cleared your throat, stepping away and nodding at him. Akaashi appeared at your side, having finished a whispered conversation with Bokuto. “Ah, Akaashi-san.” You grinned at the male, thankful for a distraction from the heat that swept through your body. 

“(L.Name)-san.” He dipped his head to you. “I had a question about your kenjutsu technique.” 

You stepped away from the table, “how funny, I was just about to ask you for assistance on that as well.” 

Akaashi’s eyes sparkled. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Shall we make our way to the training grounds?”

Akaashi bowed slightly. “I’ll be in your care.” 

You turned to Kuroo. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord.” You bowed to Bokuto. “I will be borrowing Akaashi-san, Lord Bokuto.”

“Be sure to return him in one piece,” Bokuto warned, grinning at you. Akaashi bowed to both lords before you both made your way out of the room. The males stayed silently in the room for a few moments longer.   

“Is that her?” Golden orbs surveyed his taller companion.

Kuroo glanced at his counterpart. “How did you know?” 

“You look at her the same way Akaashi looks at me when he thinks I’m not looking.” 

****

“The heavens seem disturbed today,” you comment, casting your eyes up. Dense clouds muddled the starry skies as the full moon twinkled. 

Kuroo glanced up, pulling his coat closer. “Let’s hurry home.” You and Kuroo had been in town, visiting one of the Clan’s establishments. Fukunaga had been sent out on an infiltration mission to Shiratorizawa and had returned there to present you both with a report. 

“You know what they say, clouded skies with a full moon bear ill omens.” Your hand fell onto the naginata that was strapped to your side, gripping it tighter. Loud crashing noises distracted you as bodies trudged out of the alleys. 

“I believe you’ve cursed us,” Kuroo teased, the clink of metals and weapons filling the air.

“I do believe you’re right, my Lord.” In one fluid motion, you pulled the naginata over your head, steadying it in your grip. “We do not want any trouble,” you called down the alley. A faint hope in your heart prayed that they were simply drunkards who awoke due to your conversation with Kuroo, but you knew you couldn’t be that lucky. 

“Well, we do.” You leapt out of the way as a knife went whistling past you, burying itself into a wooden post. 

“Ambushing us? How unchivalrous.” You slipped your hands out of your sleeves, flexing your fingers. Silver claws glowed under the pool of moonlight that enveloped you. With a violent roar, pandemonium broke out. You ducked as one of the males swung at you with a tonfa. Wood met wood as you swung your arms, disarming him. Smashing the naginata into his gut, you twirled to parry the next weapon. With a flourish, you spun yourself away from the incoming enemy. The neko-te glinted menacingly as you sliced, staining them red as the male staggered back, frantically clawing at his neck. Crimson poured down from the marks you left. The skin bubbled as the fast-acting poison infiltrated his system. Besides you, Kuroo was preoccupied fending off his own attackers. Your eyes widened. “Get out of the way!” You shout, shoving Kuroo aside as a metallic glint caught your eye. A body collided with you as you grunted in shock. You stumbled back, looking down. Red blossomed over your white kimono, a knife buried in your chest. The naginata slipped out of your grasp as you collapsed onto your knees.

Kuroo’s vision went black, grabbing the male by the wrist and yanking the enemy towards himself. Kuroo head-butted him before throwing him over his shoulder into the wall. He rushed to your side, collapsing onto the ground besides you. He turned your body slightly, dismay coursing through his veins as icy claws gripped his heart. He cursed himself for not insisting on more guards. “We have to get help now!” Kuroo shouts, glancing around. Crumpled bodies littered the area. His hand reached for the knife.

  “It’s too late now.” Fingers lightly curled around his wrist. “Kuroo, I can’t breathe.” Your voice cracked. As you attempted to swallow, a cough overtook you. 

“I can’t lose you now.” His vision blurred as he furiously blinked. A clammy hand reached for yours.

“You’ll be fine.” Another hoarse cough. “Cats always land on their feet and so will you.” 

“But I won’t have you by my side.” Tears streamed down his face, glassy eyes frantically searching yours.

“You’ll find another bodyguard,” you smiled. Crimson trickled down your chin. You weakly tried to wipe it away with the back of your hand. 

“But I won’t find another soulmate.” Kuroo’s tears trickled onto your cheek, slowly gliding down to mix with your blood. He pulled his robe down, an almost familiar sight greeted you. A black cat curled on his left pectoral muscle, napping against the outline of the moon. The dam finally broke sending a tidal wave of emotions through you. Tears escaped you as shaky fingers delicately stroked the mark, a choked sob spoiled by the violent cough that tore through your body. Red streaks marred his otherwise clear skin. Kuroo’s hand tightened on your shoulder, fingers rubbing your covered mark.

Just as you were settling into the tattoo session, the shoji doors slid open. “(L.Name)?” You rolled your head to the side, eyes widening.

“Hello Lord Kuroo,” Kai greeted pleasantly, wiping away the residual ink that bubbled on your skin. He continued to poke away. 

“Hello, my Lord.” 

Kuroo crossed his arms, robes swishing with the movements. “What’s this?”

You pressed your chest closer onto the ground. The last thing that you wanted was to accidentally flash Kuroo. “I decided it was high-time to bear my mark.” 

“I see.” Kuroo watched for a moment longer, a strange look crossing his face. “Are you covering up your soulmate mark?”

You shifted uncomfortably, only to have Kai smack your lower back. “Stop moving.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, pink creeping onto your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you gazed up at Kuroo. “Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

Kai pulled back slightly, dipping the tebori tool back into the ink. You offered him a half-shrug before shifting your head back and looking down at the ground. “This lifestyle is too dangerous for such things, my Lord.”  

“I see.” 

You lifted your head to show Kuroo a soft smile. “I wouldn’t want to find my soulmate and have to worry about putting them at risk. Or have them worry about my safety. I’m a proud ninja and a loyal servant of the Clan.” 

Kuroo gave you a stiff nod. “Thank you, (L.Name).”  

“Well I recall mentioning that this was a terrible line of work for soulmates.” Your eyes twinkled as you joked. Imperial red splattered as you spat onto the ground. Kuroo winced at the sight.

“Something like that.” A sad smile crossed his face.

“Is that why you assigned me as your bodyguard?” The words trickled out before you could stop yourself.

He gave you a jerky nod, his fingers encasing yours as he held it to his own mark. “I wanted to keep you close.” You could feel his heart drumming. A pang shot through your heart. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that you were just laying against his chest, curled around one another under the black veil of night. Perhaps under different circumstances, in another life. 

You stepped into Kuroo’s room, bowing. It was the eve before the Shiratorizawa raid. “Ah perfect. (L.Name), come help me.” He gestures to his armor. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t tell me that the magnificent Lord Kuroo needs help putting his own armor on.” Kuroo shrugged, sending you a cheeky smile.

“Even I need help sometimes, (L.Name). There’s no dishonor in asking for help when you need it.” You stepped beside him, sliding on the sode (shoulder pieces) over the kote (sleeves of various iron plates), lacing them together. As your fingers danced over the iron plates and leather straps, a soft medley filled your chest. “What is it that you’re humming?” 

Kuroo had his arms extended, eyes shut as he let you work. You bent down, fingers trailing down the straps to the haidate (thigh pieces). “Just a song from my village.” 

“It’s very pretty.” 

You let out an airy laugh, tightening a strap. “My mother used to sing while she bustled around the house at night, finishing up her chores. I would stay up late at night just to hear her.” You stepped back, eyes carefully scanning his armor. “Finished. How does it feel?” 

Kuroo lowered his arms, moving through motions to test his mobility. “Perfect.” He bent down, picking up a black hachimaki (headband), a silhouette of a golden stretching cat situated in the center of it. “Can you?” Kuroo held the fabric out to you.

You furrowed your brows. “Shouldn’t your soulmate or wife be the one to do this for you, my Lord?”

Kuroo offered you a smile, the flames of unknown emotions flickering in his eyes. “For now, I suppose I shall have to settle for my loyal bodyguard and closest friend.” A gentle hiss of air left you as you exhaled, your fingers brushing against his hand as you took the fabric. You’d gotten used to the electric pull between you both but it was still exhilarating when you experienced it. Kuroo kneeled, letting you stand behind him as you tied the hachimaki for him. “Thank you, (L.Name).” He stood, tying his sword to his waist and picking up his kusarigama. “Shall we ride?” Kuroo looked back at you.

“Wherever you go, my Lord, I shall be there.” You bowed your head to him. A knock at the door. You and Kuroo remained staring at each other as the door slid open.

“Lord Kuroo, (L.Name).” Kenma’s steady voice filled the room. “The men are ready to depart.” You slipped a black and gold cat mask on, pale sakura blossoms adorned the markings. 

You were the first to break eye-contact, moving towards the door. Behind you, you heard the shuffle of Kuroo’s armor. “Let’s begin the raid then.” Entering the court-yard, you saw Lev holding the reins for your dappled mare and Kuroo’s black warhorse. 

“Thank you, Lev.” You hopped on, patting Yua on the side of her neck. She had been a gift from Kuroo once you were made his bodyguard. Kuroo climbed onto Tadao, pulling the reins out of Lev’s hand in one fluid motion.

“Let’s ride.” Kuroo kicked his heels into Tadao, galloping through the open gates. You spurred Yua onwards, matching his pace as thundering hooves followed behind. 

“You promised that you would be with me wherever I went.” 

You offered him a soft smile. “My apologies for breaking my promise, my love.” His heart skipped a beat as shaky fingers squeezed yours. 

The heavy clouds crackled above you, droplets cascading down. “The heavens cry for us, dear.” Kuroo chuckled softly, blood-stained fingers brushing against your cheek. “I love you (Name).” Your heart soared. Since you had met him, your heart has been his. Your hand shook as you raised it from his chest to his cheek, cupping it. 

“I’m just glad,” a shuddering breath, “that I could save you one last time, Tetsu.” Your hand dropped, and Kuroo’s cry of anguish echoed throughout the streets. Above, thunder rumbled as the roar of heavier rain raced to match it. Crimson pools were washed away as Kuroo knelt there, your body still firmly clasped to his, violent sobs barely masked by the rain. The only time he could hold you like this ended up being the last chance he’d ever get. 

Epilogue:

Curses left plump lips as you scrambled down crowded streets. Turning sharply, you let out a sigh of relief. Standing underneath the wooden blue fence was a familiar sight. “Sorry for the wait!” You waved as you approached, chest heaving as you caught your breath. He turned, grinning as he tucked his phone into his pocket. “Were you here long?”

“Not at all.” He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

“Let’s!” You laced your arm through his, tugging him along with you as you entered the park. “Y’know, this is my first hanami.”

“Oh really?” Kuroo looked down at you, his eyes sparkling. “Well I’m glad to be here with you.” He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. Eyelashes fluttered as your eyes shut before he pulled away. As your lips chased his for another, a pale pink petal drifted down, sticking itself to your lips. You spluttered, pulling back. Kuroo let out an obnoxious laugh as he plucked it off your laps. “Should I be jealous?” He teased, holding the petal in front of your face.

“Shut up, rooster-head,” you scowled, averting your face as your face warmed. You shifted your attention to the sakura trees that surrounded you, eyes widening. “This is so beautiful!” 

“Not nearly as beautiful as you.” 

“You’re cheesy as hell, Kuroo.”

“Only when it’s you.” Your heart skipped a beat as you absorbed the moment. The words seemed so familiar and close to your heart. A tear cascaded down the left side of your cheek. Startled, you raised a hand to it, collecting it on your fingertip as you pulled it back to stare at it. “Are you alright?” Kuroo looked down at you, brow furrowed. “Why are you crying?”

You took in a deep breath, steeling your nerves. “I’m not sure.” You squeezed his arm, letting the sorrow ebb away at his comforting presence. “C’mon, let’s go.” Pointing down the path, you tugged him along with you. Everything just felt right, like this is exactly where you were supposed to be all along. He felt right. Like you and Kuroo were meant to be together, side-by-side against the world. You glanced up at your boyfriend, a soft smile crossing your face. Nothing would tear you guys apart, you would never let it.  

AN: I did a lot of research on this, so please enjoy some of these fun facts :^)

💟 A phoenix tattoo in Japanese culture represents ‘resurrection’, ‘victory’, and ‘ardor’ whereas the peony represents ‘abundance’, ‘dignity’, and ‘accomplishment’

💟 Kuroo gave her a white chrsyanthemum hair-pin. In Japanese culture, white chrysanthemums represent ‘truth’ or ‘grief’. While in grief was the truth revealed.

💟 ‘Yua’ means “binding love” in Japanese whereas ‘Tadao’ means “loyal, faithful man” 

💟 Tears that begin from the left eye symbolise sadness

Tagged: @weebintheinternet @settersloveletters​

Please message, comment, or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💞

#INKED colletion #haikyuu AU #haikyuu soulmates #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo soulmate #hidden-otaku-stuff #hq soulmates #kuroo x reader #kuroo x fem reader #kuroo x female reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x fem reader #kuroo tetsurou x fem reader #kuroo tetsurou x female reader #kuroo tetsuro x female reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsurou angst #kuroo tetsuro angst #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #kuroo tetsuro fluff #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: major character death

[shu-edits]

do you play visual novels? aside from danganronpa

@anonymous

Yeah! I've Played Array of them - DDLC, Phoenix Wright, Chaos;Child, Planetarian: The Reverie of a Little Planet, Dream Daddy - etc.

What About You?

#I just think they're neat- #ask #answer #anonymous #not a request #shut up shu

[count-v-dracula]

{ meme } | selectively accepting ;••••; @fanatiquee​ asked▬

“You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all; you are a mere dream.” (I had to 💕)

As much as they were nearly stitched together at the hip, Louis and Vlad did take their moments in solitude. Vlad, was like this especially. He had gone through this life, passing like a shadow, silent and with as much substance as one. A habit, and he was not easily shaken free of his habits he had fallen into. 

This night, he took to the flowering hillsides bordering his medieval Sibiu home. Only of late did he take a kinder liking toward the natural world. So often he had seen Louis’ quiet interest in it, but never did Vlad prod at it. It was not that he cared not to, the thought simply hadn’t arrived. Now, he walked beyond the winding streets of Sibiu up and out into the hills that pierced the glittering night sky. It was warm, the beginning of summer. How often he had kept to his icy fortress, a place of banishment and punishment, and left his properties among the living untouched...until...Louis. Louis broke across the dark horizon of his life. His light, a light he only wished he could burst into flame under, just so that Louis could know how deeply affected he was by him. And by his touch, Vlad would reassemble from his ashes and arise more stunning and brilliant than the phoenix.

Like a mortal man, he lay on his back, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded beneath his head as he looked up at the twinkling above him, and only a slice of the moon suspended in the celestial assemblage. He could pick out the constellations of the summer sky quite easily, having studied them in his mortal past and immortal existence. Vlad, this night, periodically drew with the tip of his finger across Cygnus and Aquila to start his study. A bed of  rhododendron and bellflower heavily perfuming the air beneath and about him.

The spoken observation, dripping in that patois Vlad had loved since he first heard it pierced the reverie, with the owner of the voice sitting down beside him. Vlad propped himself up on his elbows, smiling radiantly. “Is this a dream?” He asked with a hint of playfulness, taking Louis’ hand into one of his own. “I should think I am far more substantial, Louis.”

#v; damned † (au) #fanatiquee #[ ok I'm even tearing up over this what the heck ] #[ writing about Louis' affect on him hit me T_T ]

[heloisem]

date: may 15th, 2019 time: 9:10 pm location: phoenix and the turtle café status: closed to @tomassabello

She unravels the cloth napkin and flattens it against her lap with the utmost precision, hands woven together and placed delicately on top, posture pristine. Heloise looks to her right and adjusts the spoon so it’s no longer at an angle. She looks to her left and rotates the fork on its back. She gazes out the window and spots a feathered warbler, bright yellow with a black cap, pecking at an assortment of seeds as it hops from branch to branch. So deeply was she absorbed by the bird perched upon the oak tree, Heloise hardly notices when an incessant amount of chatter erupts inside the café. Not until a resounding boom echoes off of the walls.

She takes note of the revolting scent before it swallows her whole.

With one swift inhale, the peppery odor tickles at her throat, pungent and acidic. Heloise’s chest seizes as white-hot flames burn at her ribs and crawl up her throat while her tongue sits heavy in her mouth, and it feels as though it's been reduced to ashes. Fathomless, grey smoke swims around her and her vision blurs, and Heloise doesn’t register that she abandoned her chair until she begins to stumble With every inhale, the flames increase tenfold, and she’s suddenly producing an extensive amount of tears, even for her, the delicate doll who weeps on the hour.

She tries to yelp, to wail, to plead for someone to rescue her from this nightmare, but the weight of her own body nearly sends her to the floor and her heart beats with an erratic stutter. It pulses a vicious beat, thumping against her ribs uncomfortably, and Heloise wishes to seize it from her own chest and toss it to the floor. There’s a thunderous ringing in her ears, one she hadn’t noticed before, which, Heloise thinks, explains the absence of sound, but does little to explain why everyone around her appears to be moving at the pace of a tortoise.

In her peripheral, she catches sight of familiar blonde curls as the hazy smoke begins to ebb and fade. She rubs her eyes eagerly, uncertain if she’s truly able to trust her own judgement right now, but the woman in front of her certainly looks the part. She lives amongst the clouds and delves into blissful reveries, it’s true, but she’s sure this time, and the self-doubt that crept along the curve of her spine vanishes at once. Katyusha. It is her. Foolishly, she wishes to reach out and encompass her into a hug, but that’s how dreams always start, isn’t it?

If this is a dream, Heloise thinks, she desperately wants to wake up.

She can no longer discern left from right or up from down. The war drum in her ears only heightens, and she’s sure someone’s shoved a fire iron through her chest. She looks around at the café, and observes in disbelief as those around her feast on each other like wolves, their maws salivating as they growl at one another, ripe with brutality, teeth gnashing viciously, and Heloise stands before them, a gentle lamb held captive in the wake of a slaughterhouse.

And then—

Gunfire erupts, ear-splitting and razor-sharp, and the bullet rips through Heloise’s shoulder with astounding force as a mangled cry pierces the air, and sheer agony devours her senses. It’s red hot, scorching, enough to consume her shoulder with a continuous fire, and the world washes over her in rapid waves as shock begins to settle in. Her body goes limp and sweat begins to bead at the nape of her neck. Her hands begin to tremble. A flurry of tears stain her cheeks as a guttural sob, shrill and unnerving, bleeds from her lungs, and Heloise begins to convulse, each muscle violently jerking in every direction as she strives to cease the bleeding fruitlessly.

She doesn’t know which is worse. The blood or the pain.

The café begins to swelter, and bile rises in her throat as she begins to sway. It’s dizzying, and the blood continues to flow despite the pressure she applies, so she surrenders and falls to her knees, tear-stricken and afraid. Heloise jerks her head in a swift motion as cotton fills her mouth, desperate for a lighthouse to call her home, desperate for someone to wrap their arms around her and pull her close, but she’s entirely alone.

Just Heloise, and the turbulent beating of her own heart.

#ty momther jen for my life #and u gen??? bitch its on sight when i catch u #act II scene vii #╰ ˚ · ━━ ♡ interaction › tomas #dam i was gon a keep goin but i was like lemme stop so we have room for replies chile... #o ya i dont proofread so idk wha t this says #╰ ˚ · ━━ ♡ date › may 15 2019 #╰ ˚ · ━━ ♡ location › the phoenix and the turtle cafe #u dnt have to match im *lina vc* setting the scene

[chibi-mushroom]

Kiss Prompt #19

The second prompt given by @phoenix-downer for a Rikunami Kiss. Ironically, this one seemed so much easier to write than the last one. Enjoy!

Namine’s fingers trembled slightly as she turned off the small stove in Merlin’s house. She had been unable to sleep last night, even with Riku’s comforting presence. He hadn’t been able to sleep much either though, so they had spent the night in Leon and Rinoa’s guest room, sitting close and simply talking. All through the night she had tried to keep the conversation light. She could tell he had as well. But they couldn’t stay like this forever. Not with Sora still out there somewhere, waiting for them to rescue him.

Today was the day Riku and Namine would be separated once again. 

With her mind so focused on the perilous journey ahead, she hadn’t heard him come in. Holding the plates close to her chest to set at the small table for their last meal together, she had turned and walked right into his broad chest.

“Riku! I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” Namine gasped.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have realized you didn’t hear me say hello when you didn’t respond. Can I help with anything? I should be the one making you breakfast, not the other way around.” Riku carefully took the plates from her hands. 

Namine took in a small breath as his callous fingers brushed against her own. Her hands had always been rough from hours of drawing; they had only continued the pattern when she had started learning magic from Donald and Minnie.

“It’s nothing….it actually helped me get my mind off the future for a little while.” Namine hummed. “Besides, you’ve done so much for me, it’s the least I can do.”

Riku chuckled. “Look who’s talking. We couldn’t be here today if you hadn’t gotten Lingering Will to the keyblade graveyard in time. And now you, Chirithy and Kairi are going into my dreams to find Sora.”

“Speaking of, do you think she’s awake yet?” Namine started putting pancakes, sausages and juice on their plates and in their cups.

“Yeah. I went to see her as soon as she woke up this morning. She’s eating breakfast with Ienzo and Ansem who’re probably filling her in on everything she missed.” Riku sat down.

“You didn’t want to join them?”

“Nah. Ansem never was one for a practical breakfast.” Riku’s face filled with blush. He spoke slowly, as if he were getting a good feel for each word in his mouth. “Besides, There was something important I wanted to take care of instead.”

“What was that?”

“Ah you wouldn’t be interested in hearing about it.”

“Why do you think that?”

Riku shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Do I have to answer that?”

“She must be so worried.” Namine sat and began to pour some sticky sweet syrup onto her plate like Sora always had. She could sense how awkward Riku felt and gave him a way out.

Riku himself stuck with some peanut butter on one and strawberries on the other, grateful for the change of subject. As he glanced at her, he noticed that her own expression held concern and sorrow over everything that had happened. But Namine had always been like that. He could never have believed that she didn’t feel as a nobody. She had always felt very deeply. For her friends. For her past. And maybe for a misguided boy who had spent a tireless year trying to atone for his wrongs and become someone worth loving. He couldn’t protect his friends. He hoped he would never fail protecting her.

“She probably is. I’m just glad you’ll be there to help see her through. Promise me you two will be careful?”

Namine nodded and gave a small hum of agreement.

“No. Namine. I need you to answer me with words. Will you make sure to look after each other? I-I couldn’t bear to lose you too.” Riku stared deeply into her eyes, even going so far as to grab one of her hands. “I mean…it’s just….”

He gave a small growl and covered his face in his hands. Namine could tell that he was fuming inside, a deep blush spreading across the expanse of his cheeks. She had guessed his feelings that first day she was back. But she also knew that he would need time. So she became his constant companion anytime she wasn’t working on Roxas or Xion’s memories, just as he had been hers as much as it was possible in Twilight Town.

After a few minutes, he looked up to find Namine softly laughing at his reaction. She apologized for the laughter, but soon after he joined in her reverie. They finished their meal and quickly cleaned up in silence, occasionally bumping shoulders and stealing glances at the other. The air about them was comfortable, though there was a distinct electric energy dancing about them. Was it anticipation for the upcoming journey? Or perhaps something deeper, more unspoken.

With breakfast eaten and everything put away, it was time to go. They were to report to the lab as quickly as possible, in the hopes that perhaps Sora could be found that much faster. A year was much too long to wait. 

Namine found herself looking over the items in her bag over and over, although she hadn’t actually needed anything. She was stalling and she knew it. Which of course wasn’t fair to either Sora or the girl who missed him so desperately. Shaking her head, Namine closed the bag and turned, once again finding herself inches away from Riku’s chest. 

This earned a nervous chuckle from the two.

“Sorry.I guess I need to work on my timing.” Riku nervously chuckled.

“No, it’s fine.” Namine smiled naturally.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she quickly threw her arms around his torso and buried her face into it, taking in the musky scent of sea salt and cedar wood. She would miss this, even though she was going into his dreams.

“Hey. It’s going to be alright.” Riku gave a soft smile as he placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. There was a single tear in her eye.

He took a deep breath. She was gorgeous. And brave and sweet and well….somehow everything he had needed. His eyes darted down to her lips and then back to her eyes. He had never been a man of eloquent speeches, and she never seemed to care for a drawn out speech anyway. But he had to get something of his feelings across to her, even if she didn’t return them. Those lips were slightly open, patiently waiting to see what he would do next. Was it his mind tricking him, or were they nearly begging him to follow his heart?

Before he could chicken out, he quickly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, wrapping his strong arms around her petite form. After a second of surprise, Riku was relieved to feel her hands sliding up his chest and embracing behind his neck. Her lips pressed back, moving slowly as if she were trying to immortalize this moment. Riku’s eyes fluttered closed, although he could still sense her, mimicking his actions and pressing herself to him.

Just like that, she broke away from him, letting her hands rest upon his chest. He still held her, and was smiling that same stupid smile that Sora always flashed after assuring either he or Kairi that things would be okay. He could see pink flush across her face, but her smile lit up the rest of her countenance. Every part of her face contributed to the radiance of it.

“That was for good luck. I believe in you.” Riku whispered.

“I’ll come back to you, I promise. And we’ll bring him home.”

“I know you will.”

Namine carefully backed out of his embrace, heading for the door. It really was time to go. Riku opened the door for her and followed her out, softly grasping her hand and letting their fingers interlock. There was no hesitancy this time. Whatever they were going to do from now on, they were going to do together.

#Rikunami #namiku #Riku #Namine #long post #Phoenix-downer #kiss prompt #kh4 #writing meme #thanks for the prompt

[au-eldritchfell]

True Reset - Load - Continue

Main Menu 

~

The Sage beside Toriel is Wisteria, Sage of Perseverance. And it may be hard to tell, but Hazel’s pronouns are they/them. 

Thank you all for your follows, comments, likes, and support! 20 more pages until we’re done with Heartfelt, and Eldritchfell’s first season! ^^ 

Image Description Below Cut

“I know about the Angel,” Chara said, raising a forkful of pie towards their mouth. “Myth says she gave humans and monsters magic, and I know she was a guardian of the Concordian continent before the war.” Toriel placed her mug of tea back down on the table, drawing a chair by Chara’s side this time, rather than across from them. “Indeed, but just before the war, she disappeared,” she explained, easing herself down into the chair. “Now, there are many theories why she disappeared. Some say she foresaw the coming destruction and could not bear to watch, or that she simply grew cold-hearted and distant before abandoning this world for a higher plane… but a more popular theory is that she was slain, and her power stolen.” Chara spat out the pie they had just eaten. They banged their hands down on the table, turning to Toriel with wide eyes. “Slain!?” they demanded. “But there are stories about her creating hurricanes and eating the souls of Diskorish soldiers! They still call her a ‘demon’ over there, you know! What could slay something like that!?” “According to some… a Sage,” Toriel said calmly. “Like… the Seven Sages? The Seven Traitors,” Chara asked.

“Traitors… it that how history remembers them?” Toriel asked. Memories of the war flashed by her side, fighting back to back with the Sages of old, trusting them with her life out on the battlefield’s front lines, facing down the droves of Diskorish soldiers. “To us, they were heroes…” she mused, then shook herself out of the reverie. “No matter, it is known that the Angel was wielder of great power. She brought rain and sun to nourish our crops, and used her storms to defend us from invaders. But the truth was, she was not infallible. “She had, in fact, died many times throughout our history… but each time, like the phoenix monsters of the distant past, she had returned and triumphed with the power of Reset. “The ability to, through sheer force of will, turn back time. “However… Many believe that Hazel the Red, the leader of the Seven, slew her and stole her power. For they knew war was coming and wished to manipulate it to ultimately benefit them.” She remembered Hazel… they actually reminded her a little of Chara-- the same determined look in their crimson eyes. But Hazel was an adult, with light brown skin and hair more similar to the first fallen human’s, garbed in red and yellow-- and with a cloak clasp fashioned after Delta Rune symbol of the Angel. One that Toriel herself possessed. 

Toriel allowed herself to ponder on the past for a few moments more before leaning forwards, resting her elbows upon the solid wooden table. “...Chara, but any chance, does your history recall Hazel’s fate?” Without changing their expression, Chara sliced off another portion of pie, spearing it on their fork. “When monsters disappeared from the surface… Diskorish soldiers thought they were being hidden, Concordians thought they had all been killed,” Chara said in a measured tone. “But everyone agreed the Sages were to blame. Hazel the Red was ripped to shreds by the ensuing mob… and the other Sages ended up meeting similar fates.” Toriel felt a pang of sorrow for her fallen friend. “...I see.” Silence lay heavy around the table as Chara chewed, and Toriel gazed off into the distance. Then Chara looked back to her, and asked, “Do you think Hazel stole Reset from the Angel?” Toriel was quiet, taken aback by the question.

She finally answered. “I do not believe so, no. I like to believe the Angel saw her ability would be needed by her children, and passed it down for them to use. A theory I felt confirmed when I saw signs of reset in some of the children to fall before you. I cannot remember the time you wound back, but occasionally… feelings arise. A sense of deja vu… or dreams. “When I awoke, I felt as though something terrible had happened to you, although I could not say why. As far as I should have known, you remained sleeping safely in your bed, and yet, it was as though I had awoken to the sounds of your screams. Perhaps I did… and simply did not recall them.” Toriel straightened up, making eye contact with Chara. “Chara, if I may ask… why were you down in the basement?” They froze. And looked down, their hand trembling slightly. After a pause, Toriel pushed her chair up, rising again. “...Well, I had best check the wards in the basement,” she spoke. “Perhaps it is time to renew them. I will be back shortly. 

#undertale au #undertale comics #toriel #chara #eldritchfell #eldritchfell au #auriel #hazel #wisteria #old

[remcyclesgame]

Game critic Phoenix Simms took a look at our in-progress build and shared her thoughts! Give it a read for an exploration of what it means to experience nostalgia in a dream.

#REM Cycles #REM Cycles game #game development #game #gaming #game criticism #medium #article #roguelike #turn-based strategy #video game #indie game #indie developer #indie game development #gamedev #indiedev #pixel art #pixel #pixel aesthetic