My Random Thoughts That I Couldnt Smoosh Into Its Own Post

Chain of Command Chapter 3

Though Yeongdeungpo was by no means a great neighbourhood- with its graffitied walls and copious amounts of street violence- Bambi was unable to get used to the crumbling walls and dirty streets that were distinct features of the area surrounding Hyeongshin.

The school itself seemed a little dingy, with shabby furniture and even shabbier students, so unlike Yeo-il’s pristine hallways and spotless floors. She eyed an overflowing trash can at the side of the corridor as she walked through, before turning away and sighing.

Whatever. She wasn’t a judgemental person. (She was).

She was headed to Hyeongshin’s meeting room, the usual meet up spot for when she came to do business with Forrest Lee. Despite the not-so-stellar quality of the school, she was in a good mood, as she always was when she was about to meet up with Forrest Lee, though it was a little dampened by the news she was about to deliver to him. It had something to do with business decreasing, which would’ve been fine if it was Ganghak, or Yoosun, or anybody with a reputation accumulated after a long time.

But for someone who just lost to another school and had their management changed in the short span that they were an executive (a position that they only gained through snitching on their ex leader), it would not have been the best thing to hear.

The boys from Hyeongshin were already losing part of their commissions, who knew what Donald would do if they continued to mess up? She frowned. Donald’s wrath was something she did not want to be on the receiving end of.

By now, she was nearly off the first floor, halfway up the staircase to the second storey where the meeting room was located, right at the end of the hallway. Though it wasn’t her school, she was well acquainted with Hyeongshin’s layout due to the numerous times she’d visited.

Like Yeo-il, there weren’t many students still lingering in the hallways, most having already left the school to go to karaoke or the pool hall, or perhaps even a cram school. (She snorted a little at the thought.) However, whatever little students were left identified her immediately and soon she had a small crowd of students whipping their heads towards her at breakneck speed, giving themselves a millisecond to gawk before directing their gazes to the ground, arms stiff by their sides.

In other parts of Yeongdeungpo, when people realised of her affiliation to the Union, they tended to stare and whisper amongst themselves.

But in Hyeongshin, when the boys saw her, or any other Union member, they all grew very silent and still, parting before her like Moses and the Red Sea. It seemed like Myles Joo had them trained well.

…

Before he left, of course.

She paid no mind to them, walking through the now cleared path (though there weren’t that many people in the way in the first place) and quickening her pace as she approached the meeting room, reaching for the handle.

Hyeongshin High’s meeting room, though smaller than a regular classroom, was spacious, with a long table on one side and two couches on the other. Though, officially, its purpose was to serve as a room where the student council would gather (and that was what it was used for, at least to the knowledge of the teachers) but the students of the school were all well aware of what it really was; the gathering area for the school head and his friends.

And there the school head was, sitting across the room quietly, frowning and presumably deep in thought.

“Hey,” Bambi tossed her bag onto the couch opposite Forrest Lee, making herself comfortable, before she noticed the unusual silence in the room and the absence of two certain someones. “Where’d they go?”

Forrest seemed to immediately know who she was referring to.

Robin Ha and Sam Lee (or better known as Grape) were Forrest’s second and third in command, though they seemed to be in disagreement about who was who. The two of them followed Forrest everywhere, and it felt strange when they were gone. Grape, who earned his nickname from his curly purple hair, was the shorter and more talkative one of the duo, with a cocky personality and an overt eagerness whenever it was time to get into a fight. Robin Ha, though less talkative than his friend, was by no means less sadistic or willing to punch somebody in the face.

“Hey. Robin went for a smoke, and Grape went to look for him.”

Forrest paused a little before he continued, and the look on his face told Bambi he was only expecting the absolute worst.

“So why’d you come down here today?”

She grimaced a little; it was too bad that she was going to have to validate his fears.

“It involves KHG industries.”

“Hyeongshin’s uniform sales have dipped after your loss to Eunjang. It’s not so bad for Yoosun, since Jimmy Bae’s in charge, but you haven’t been school head for long so…”

She studied his face, and when he stayed silent, she continued.

“Anyways, just get your boys to beat a bunch of guys up, or whatever. The method doesn’t really matter, as long as Donald doesn’t lose his commission.” Bambi pursed her lips; she usually never had trouble relaying instructions, but watching Forrest Lee’s cressfallenness made her feel a little guilty. “It’s better for all of us anyways, for sales to be high.”

Her attempt to lighten the tone didn’t seem to work very well, as Forrest continued to stare down at the table in front of him, his eyes never meeting hers. There was a grim yet pensive look on his face, like he was slowly processing the information.

After a moment, he finally responded.

“Yeah, okay.”

Bambi raised an eyebrow.

She’d been around Forrest long enough to put a name to each of his mannerisms, and the tone of voice he was currently talking with was the one he used when he was down- dejectedness badly disguised as impassiveness.

Usually he was brimming with confidence, making small talk and laughing with her, the large smirk on his face one of someone who knew he had power. But today it was different. She thought back to the events of the last Union assembly, sighing inwardly as she observed his downcast form.

She didn’t have to guess to know why.

“Has Ganghak come over to collect the files yet?” She inquired, neither addressing nor ignoring the elephant in the room, choosing to awkwardly skirt around it instead.

“Robin offered to pass them to Wolf, but I’m not sure if he’s arrived yet. I’ll check later.” Forrest’s grim look seemed to worsen at the thought of Ganghak’s leader.

“Okay.”

To be fair, who could really blame Forrest for being disheartened? Bambi certainly didn’t, but she was never really good at situations like this; she was more used to just saying something snarky and leaving.

She directed her gaze back to Forrest Lee, who was now staring at the wall behind her. His eyes were narrowed, like he was contemplating something, and she sighed again, out loud this time.

“Look, man.”

Forrest finally directed his gaze towards her, seemingly apprehensive about what she was going to say.

“I don’t like this new shift in management either. But if you and Jimmy Bae handled the situation with Eunjang better, this wouldn’t’ve happened. Not to mention what happened with Myles…”

Forrest Lee flinched, and for a split second both of them recalled the events that came before Myles Joo’s excommunication.

Bambi had already been suspicious of Myles after his show of displeasure at being demoted after Jake Ji’s arrival; his obvious anger at Jake and Donald Na, and even his hostility towards her and hesitation to follow orders, which had never been a problem before. She had the observers planted around Yeongdeungpo to report to her if Myles Joo was caught acting out, before Forrest Lee came to her all of a sudden with evidence that Myles was betraying the Union.

She narrowed her eyes.

She was pretty new to the Union too at that point of time, so Forrest’s information had definitely helped her in gaining Donald’s trust. Perhaps it was considered cowardly, or disloyal, to go behind your leader’s back to rat him out, but so what? The Union benefited from disloyalty.

If the boys were just going to sit by as their leader plotted a coup, it could end up leading to the downfall of the Union. And she couldn’t let that happen, could she?

“But I guess I can’t complain, since it was beneficial for me, too.” She finished, and Forrest nodded quietly. He seemed relieved that she hadn’t drawn the topic out any longer. Nobody wanted to think about the punishment that Donald had bestowed upon Myles, and the betrayal that had led to it.

“I’m gonna go now. Don’t forget to make sure the files are handed off to Ganghak. See you.”

“Later.”

She caught a glimpse of his face as the door slammed; his expression had shifted into something steely, like the gears in his head were slowly turning.

The sky outside had turned a dark blue while she was in the meeting room. She made her way down the stairs and out of the school gate. Though the school was empty by now, the streets were busy, cars rushing past her in a stream of colour.

She stood there for a moment, idly watching the traffic before a loud roar came from behind, forcing her to jump to the side as a group of motorbikes sped past her.

(God, she fucking hated motorcycles. Every goddamn Union assembly was full of them, leaking exhaust and polluting the air.)

Bambi glared at the bikers, her eyes catching sight of their red blazers and gray slacks. Could it be?  Her eyes narrowed in on the boy at the front of the group, his messy purple hair slowly becoming less visible as he sped away into the distance, turning a bend and disappearing. She grimaced.

Seems like Ganghak did come over to make a pick up after all.

losing the IDGAF war so badly

5 times Inej sneaks into Kaz’s bed + 1 time she doesn’t

I.

Most of the time, Kaz does not doubt that buying out Inej’s indenture was a good investment—but damn it, she’s making him think twice about whether or not it was worth it tonight.

“Didn’t I tell you they were going to take a bigger move tonight? Didn’t I tell you to stay hidden?”

At least Inej is wise enough not to answer the questions he throws at her, sharper than the knives that adorn her body.

He’s currently digging around the cabinet near his wash basin for a second roll of linen bandages, his bad leg aching fiercely as he kneels on the wooden floor of the attic to rummage. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate this week with the Liddies pinching customers from the Crow Club—they’d been staging fights outside the door to scare off potential patrons, which only ever devolved into real fights with the Dregs’ bruisers and disrupted the players already at the tables. Now, they were bold enough to try to get the drop on his spider within Dregs territory.

Of course, he’d trained Inej well enough that they hadn’t fully succeeded, but still—their near hit had unleashed some kind of hot fury deep in his chest tonight. It was an irrational anger he could not fully account for except to think that he had warned Inej multiple times this week, had told her to remain on her guard tonight as she traversed the Barrel on his behalf.

And instead, she is sitting uncomfortably on the edge of his bed, wrapping the first roll of linen he’d thrown at her around her torso to cover the bleeding cut on her back, bearing Kaz’s verbal tirade with pursed lips and stony silence.

And that was another thing he’d already corrected her on a hundred times, wasn’t it?

“You were guarding your left arm, weren’t you?” he accuses, seething once more as he deduces how this fight must have unfolded. “Answer me,” he barks, and Inej finally eyes him directly. He notes the fiery glint in her eyes that warns him she won’t tolerate him commanding her like a watchdog more than once.

He doesn’t plan to try it a second time—but sourly, he thinks a watchdog would have been much easier to train than the Wraith.

“What would be the point? Clearly, you’ve already reached your conclusion.” Her tone isn’t quite as cutting as it normally would be when she and Kaz go toe-to-toe, her eyes blinking heavily with exhaustion. Some treacherous part of his mind is almost disappointed she doesn’t try to challenge him, but he quashes that thought almost immediately. Foolish.

…

Continue reading this one-shot here on ao3. 

Ozai is so pathetic, like that “take his bending away haha he’s harmless now” trick would never have worked on Zuko, if you took his bending away he’d just grab his swords and come at you twice as hard, Azula doesn’t have swords or anything but she’s pretty good at hand to hand and amazing at talking her way out of problems, Iroh bust himself out of prison with no bending at all, meanwhile Ozai? Gets his bending taken away and then just collapses, doesn’t even try anymore, then just sits in prison and tries to get into Zuko’s head some more, he could have trained up and tried to break out too! But no! Bet he can’t break steel bars with his bare hands. Bet he can’t kick a steel lever in two. Bet he can’t even do a flip.

Also we never really see him do any really impressive firebending apart from when he has magic comet power, I guesss he shoots some lightning at Zuko, but that’s it and Azula is still better at the lightning thing. Azula has blue flames. Zuko can do firebreakdancing and bend with his swords. Does Ozai, who is not 14 years old, have blue flames? No he doesn’t.

He didn’t even do his coup himself, Ursa had to kill Azulon for him! Could have just challenged Iroh to an Agni Kai for the throne but he didn’t bc he knew he’d lose.

And then he only ruled for like 6 years! He lost a war that had been going on for 100 years bc of a bunch of kids.

Loserlord indeed

good lore update

i was reading the latest translated chapters of weak hero and i saw somebody saying that they 'weren't interested' in episodes like this because the girls in weak hero only purposes were to be love interests. for some context, lala, lily and julia's backstory is revealed in the latest chapters. but isn't a character's only purpose to be a love interest when that character has no contribution to the story and personality that doesn't revolve around the male characters? if julia, lala and lily already have a backstory about their friendship, and julia contributed to the story during the ganghak arc then that means that they aren't 'just love interests'. Isn't it sexist to think that the only purpose a girl could ever have in a story is to be a love interest? Especially if they have a personality, backstory and character outside the guys lmao.

the idea that it’s ‘creepy’ to interact with things posted a long time ago is so terrible for artists and contributes to the pressure to be constantly creating new work, at an unhealthy and unsustainable rate. I hate it so much.

it's a cruel summer (with you)

You and Donald Na get wrapped up in a summer romance. It doesn't end well.

F/M, Angst, Hurt no comfort

Inspired by the song 'Cruel Summer' by Taylor Swift

(and I’m drunk in the back of the car-)

You leaned into the man’s shoulder, cloth rubbing against your skin, your two bodies pressed against each other. You inhaled, and expensive cologne filled your nostrils, dampening your already dulled senses.

"But whyyyy?” You slurred, leaning into him even further. Your voice comes out whinier than usual, like that of a disobedient child, but you’re too drunk to care. The man next to you stays silent, and you steal a glance at him. His cold steely gaze is harsh in comparison to the soft fabric of his sweatshirt sleeve- lined with golden motifs and bought with an absurd amount of money no high schooler should have had access to. 

“Donald.”

Donald Na’s red eyes land on you for a second (you don’t know how to feel- elated that you caught his attention, or small, under his shrinking gaze, his silence a simple reminder that you aren’t worth his time. But, a smaller voice in your head whispered, He hasn’t pushed you away. And for you, that was enough.) before shifting back to the road. 

You follow his line of sight- red and green traffic lights and moving cars blurring into one under the droplets of rain beating down on the windows. To anyone outside in the pouring rain it might’ve seemed warm and cozy, but to you it was as cold as ever. You looked back at his face, his beautiful, angelic, face. Angelic, hah. Pretty, snake like red eyes that were hellbent on ignoring you, pale, flawless, undented skin, like you were looking at a marble statue. 

It was laughable how someone who looked like they could’ve been sculpted by God himself was capable of doing so much harm. (Some poetic part of you thought that your comparison of him to a marble statue was rather fitting- beautiful, yet cold and untouchable. You supposed it was the alcohol talking.)

It started back at the bar.

~

It was hot outside when you met him. The summer was in, and you were drinking your way through the sweltering heat in the bar. 

Donald was there sometimes, and he had always caught your eye. How could he not? Tall, pale, and tattooed, radiating an expensive yet untouchable aura, always watching, never taking a sip. It intrigued you, so much that one day you approached him. He seemed sort of amused by your arrival, and in a way it felt demeaning- like you were just some idiotic girl that he saw as entertainment. You pushed it away.

One thing about Donald Na, is that he did everything right. He was charming, bought you drinks and bantered with you, yet you knew that this man was a bad idea the moment you set eyes on him. You were drawn in anyways. It’s not built to last. That’s what you told yourself. It’s just a casual fling. You weren’t sure you believed yourself, as his snake-like eyes met your own (his captivating aura was even stronger up close), from your view next to him on the booth seat. 

He smiled at you (God, he was gorgeous) and you knew that your entire being was going to be consumed by this man, like he was a black hole and you were the astronaut who floated away too far from the space station. Only you were jumping in willingly. 

Perhaps that was a mistake, dedicating every fiber of your being to something you knew could only end in tragedy.

He started coming in more often, still never consuming a drop of alcohol. You asked him why once, and he smiled at you with that smirk of his- the one that said he was always in charge of the situation (the one that drove you crazy)- and said that it was ‘dirty’. The two of you talked for a bit at the bar, before you started meeting at other places. Late nights where you’d text him all of a sudden, asking him if he wanted to go to the park to ‘hang out’. Oh, please. It was a date, and both of you knew it. 

Other times he’d be the one calling you up, abruptly informing you that he’d reserved a table for two that night at some fancy restaurant with a complicated name that you had no idea how he could afford, telling you to clear your schedule. He’d bring you in, arm around your waist, walking like he owned the fucking place. Despite all the time the two of you spent hanging out, you didn’t know that much about him. 

He was from Yeo-il High apparently, but aside from that he was some sort of enigma to you, expertly dodging questions about his job and personal life, and especially his background, half truths rolling off his tongue as if he was used to twisting the situation to his advantage. That should have scared you off; a man with something to hide is not a man to be trusted. You knew that, and yet you ignored it. All the red flags that should have pushed you away drew you even closer to Donald Na.

You guessed it was just some dumb, self destructive part of you that wanted to know more, craved the feeling of having him open up to you when he was so on guard with everyone else, that screamed louder than the sensible part of your brain that told you that this could only end badly. So for a couple months as the two of you grew closer, you lived in a false reality, a dream where you were always aware that the alarm clock was going to come ringing eventually. You took a gamble; you made a bet.

~

It started back at the bar. 

Donald had to admit that when you first showed up, pretty face flushed from alcohol, he didn’t think much of you. He watched in amusement as you struck up a conversation with him, played along as you flirted with him, yet the more he talked to you, he couldn’t help but get the growing feeling that you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into. He was good at that, at reading people. He decided he wanted to see where this would go- talking to old men and delinquents all day was frustrating after all. He needed some normal human interaction too.

You were ordinary. And he meant that as a compliment. Frankly, Donald was bored of dealing with delinquents who thought they were tough shit until they got a taste of his fist, tired of the business meetings and stuffy suits. He had learned to savour the ordinary in his everyday life, knowing that it would fade away soon enough; sitting in his dark office, eating soft bread, watching the traffic below. 

He would listen as you talked about your life, about your parents, about drama at your prestigious all girls school, about your grades, just anything. It was so different from his dangerous, crime filled life. It was peaceful. Each moment he spent with you felt like he was pressing pause on his reality and jumping into another one, one where he wasn’t stressed out running a criminal empire, one where he could just spend time slowly talking with you under the dim lights of the bar.

But all good things had to come to an end. It was a cruel lesson that life taught Donald again and again, to the point where he got used to leaving and being left. He knew that this secret relationship couldn’t last forever- It wasn’t built to last. He had accepted it as a fact. One thing that Donald valued, even more than his criminal empire, even more than his own life, even more than you, was his reputation.

It was his reputation that kept him alive, that made sure that fuckers who would usually be trying to oppose him, couldn’t even look him in the eye. It was what let him lead the Union so flawlessly, and he knew that at the slightest slip up, the smallest mistake, all the scum that had cowered at his feet before would come running. Loved ones were seen as a liability in his world, as weaknesses to exploit. He wasn’t gonna risk all that he’d worked for, what he'd spent all these years building up just for a small crush, a summer fling.

He looked down at you, leaning against his body, his jacket over your bare shoulders. He would miss you when you were gone.

~

"We should stop meeting up." 

Donald’s icy tone broke the peaceful silence that hung over the table. You blinked, drunken mind taking a moment to process what he said. When his statement finally registered, you swivelled around to face him, grimacing when your head spun. Shit.

“What?” You put your hand to your head, rubbing at your temple; you must’ve misheard him. But there was no mistaking the way his light hearted voice turned hard, no mistaking the whiplash it gave you.  

“We should stop meeting up.” Donald Na always got straight to the point. Speaking frankly even when he was breaking your heart. 

You moved yourself off of his side, sitting up straight, as if his words had sobered you up.

“Why? What are you talking about?” You watched him- cold, red eyes and an indifferent expression. You felt your heart drop. He had to be fucking joking. Your life depended on it. 

The thrill of the chase was wearing off, and now it was time to face the consequences.

“You know what I mean. Let’s end this.” Donald didn’t look at you as he stood up. The last pieces of hope that you clung on to fully disintegrated into ash. You knew that face; the cold, distant one that he put on when he was annoyed. “You’re drunk. I’m getting a taxi.” 

You chased after him as he walked out of the bar, yanking on his sleeve with a manicured hand. 

“Wait- Tell me what I fucking did wrong. Don’t just leave, Goddamnit!” 

Donald sighed, and you knew whatever came next would be painful. Even if it was just the truth. You weren’t sure why you asked the question- perhaps it just slipped out due to intoxication and desperation, hoping to hear another answer rather than the one that you’ve already known since the start. 

A cab pulls up on the street before he can start. You get in, and he does too. 

Rain starts to pour as the cab door slams shut, and the driver steps on the gas, soft jazz music playing on the radio. Red, orange, and yellow leaves fell from the trees, your eyes following them as they hit the ground. Just like a movie scene. You wondered if there was a God out there. How cruel, if this was the fate that they had chosen for you. But then again, you did suppose you chose it yourself. 

Maybe it was unfair to blame everything on an omnipotent being you weren’t sure was even there. The calming music, and the thudding of the heavy rain on the windows made your eyelids heavy, but you couldn’t fall asleep- not like this.

“But whyy?” You cut through the heavy silence. Donald kept quiet, and the cab driver minded his business. Fuck. It felt like you were freezing inside the taxi. You wondered if the vehicle had heating, as you leaned into Donald’s shoulder. His sweater was warm. He however, was colder than ever, as he watched the road, like whatever was going on outside was so much more interesting than you. You took a moment to admire his face.

Pale skin, piercings and scarlet eyes. At least even in uncertainty one thing stayed the same.

“Donald.” 

He said nothing. 

“Goddamnit, you asshole. Don’t ignore me.” He turned to face you, and your heart leapt. 

“Goodnight.”

The cab came to a halt outside a large house. You’d been there before, marvelling at Donald's tall ceilings and designer furniture. 

“Wait-” You have got to be fucking kidding me.

“Get her home safe.” Donald cast you a glance before the door shut, and the car sped off. 

It felt like the universe was playing a big prank on you today. Like you were the galaxy’s equivalent of a little kid wearing a dunce hat in the back of the classroom and everyone else was just pointing at you and laughing. 

Hahahaha. You just got dumped, or whatever the term for what just happened for the strange relationship you and Donald Na shared was, and then stood up in the back of a taxi. Hilarious.

But you wouldn’t end things. Not like this, in the pouring rain in the backseat of a cab. The alcohol spurred you on, making you bolder than you usually would’ve been. You’ve already made so many bad decisions, what was one more?

“Stop the car.” The taxi driver cast a quick, incredulous look back. “Stop, now?”

“Stop, now.” 

The driver stared at you like you were mad, but you paid it no mind, pulling dollar notes out of your purse and handing it to him as he slammed on the brakes. 

“Thank you.” 

You jumped out of the car and into the raging storm. The water hit your bare shoulders, but you felt numb to the cold, your mind focused on only one thing. Your head was throbbing, but you were sober enough to walk straight.

 That would be enough for you, as you ran towards Donald's home, pressing the doorbell repeatedly. The storm around you didn’t stop, beating into you persistently, soaking you, your minidress, and anything you had on underneath. Water pooled around your feet, and you knew that the heels you had on would be ruined by the end of the night. 

Finally, the door cracked open, and streaks of light broke the inky darkness that you stood in. Donald stood there too, looking down at you with those vermillion eyes. His eyes widened slightly, though the rest of his face remained levelled, like he was surprised you were there but decided to mask it with apathy.

“Go home. You’re going to get sick.” His tone sounded indifferent, but you could pick up on hints of? exhaustion? exasperation? regret? 

If you regret it so much, take me back, you asshole.

“Tell me why.” Your voice came out hoarse, and you cleared your throat. You tried your best to stay still under his stare, under his overwhelming presence.

His eyes narrowed, and his lips grew taut, before finally, he broke eye contact and let out a sigh. 

Exasperation, you were right. 

You knew you were probably quite a pathetic sight; shivering and soaked to the bone. You hoped your makeup wasn’t running. 

“There are some things I can’t tell you. On my part, I’m sorry things had to end this way.” 

“But let’s be honest. We both knew that this wouldn’t go well, so let’s not pretend that you didn’t know this would happen.” 

He moved to close the door, and the pounding of the rain seemed to hit harder than usual. “Good night, and I mean it this time.”

For a second there it was as if you saw the grains of sand flowing down the invisible hourglass of your relationship, and you knew you had to do something- you didn’t know what, but something. 

“Wait! Please!” 

Donald paused. You saw his face through the crack of his front door. He looked tentative, like he was expecting you to say something. To try to change his mind.

So you did.

“I love you!”

You felt instantaneous regret as the words left your mouth.

You watched Donald for the hundredth time. He didn't scoff, or reply emotionlessly like you expected. What came next was much worst.

He laughed. You’ve heard Donald laugh before- usually just a soft chuckle in response to a joke you made. This was a hollow, humorless laugh that chilled you to the bone.

You’d practically studied Donald’s face, every soft curve and every sharp angle had been practically memorised by you, carved into your mind.

But this wasn’t something you’ve seen before. A devilish smile. How ironic; you’d compared him to an angel just moments before. Well, the devil came in many forms. Maybe Donald Na was one of them. You unconsciously took a step back. 

He caught his breath, and his laughter ceased.

“No, you don’t.”

The door slammed shut.

~

Pure despair.

It had been a while since you had last felt it. 

Truth is, you didn’t cry easy. When you got sad, you got moody. And when you got moody, you got angry, lashing out and sulking until you cooled down as a way to cope with the pain. Now, there was none of that. No one to blame but yourself.

The tears did not come out in a rush; it built up slowly in the wells of your eyes before cascading down your face like a dam had been broken, getting heavier and heavier until you were fully sobbing. You let out a raw, anguished cry, like a banshee in the night.

You had prepared yourself for this a million times, waited for this moment to come, but you never expected it to hurt like this. 

At that moment, you wished you were at home, in your comfiest pyjamas, taking in the warmth of your blanket. But you were crying on the front step of some man’s house, makeup and tears streaming down your face, half frozen to death. You should have brought your jacket along. 

Maybe this wouldn’t have happened had you thought this through.

Donald was right (of course he was). You did know that this was going to happen. You knew that this was the reality that was written for the two of you, carved in stone by the hand of whatever divine being was up there. And you didn’t love him. You just blurted it out of desperation to make him stay. 

After all, it was impossible to love somebody you didn’t know. 

Maybe you could have loved him, if this relationship wasn’t doomed from start to end. 

Sure, Donald could be cruel. But you were too, to want more than he had to give. You knew there was nothing more to it than a summer fling, and yet you threw yourself into it headfirst hoping that there could be something more. Well, there wasn’t. 

One part of you wondered what would have happened if you listened to your Goddamn brain and stayed away from him. Then you’d just be two strangers in a bar, with you constantly looking over at him in curiosity and him pretending not to notice your glances before finally failing to show up one day. Two planets orbiting each other, but never touching. 

(The reckless part of you, the one that got you into this mess, thought that it would’ve tortured you more if you had never approached Donald. How you would’ve stayed up at night, thinking about what it could’ve been.) 

You laughed in spite of yourself. You were gonna get yourself killed one day.

Numbly, you pushed yourself off of Donald’s doorstep, standing up wobbly, the tears blurring your vision. The cold rain had sobered you up, and your mind was clear. It was time to pull yourself together. You sent a glance back at Donald’s house. All of his lights were off except for one. You wondered if he had heard you cry. You wondered if he cared.  You guessed that you were of value to him, just not as much as whatever he was hiding from you. Not that it mattered anymore.

You knew you’d get over it eventually. Time heals all wounds, after all- like the grains of sand running over a jagged rock in a river until it became a smooth pebble, but for now, you would mourn. 

You looked around. The neighbourhood was a nice one, large houses lining the empty streets, lighted by rows of lamp posts. The wind blew colder, and both you and the tree skeletons shivered. The air had grew colder over the past few days, signalling the end of a long summer, and the start of autumn. The start of a new beginning. 

This time, you didn’t look back as you walked away.

Ah yes, oxytocin.

Random MelloMatt HCs

-Mello and Near call each other when they're stuck on the daily crossword. The phone calls consist of:

N: Eight letter word for stubborn. Fourth letter is U.

M: Obdurate.

N: That's the one. Ciao.

----- next day -----

M: Can you please, for the love of fuck give me a hint as to what the pissing answer for 22 across could be?? I haven't got a fucking clue. Matt insists its Impermeable but I KNOW he's wrong.

N: Matt is correct.

M: Motherfucker! Peice of shit fucking paper! Bye Near, I hope you have a terrible day. Matt says hi.

-Matt is a spontaneous gifter. Not only is he great at buying random gifts for Mello when he leaves the house, but he's also great at making them. Like out of nowhere he'll whip out a mini origami crane and give it to Mello and say something lame yet endearing like

"Hey, hi I made you something. Hope you like it. 🙂" And everytime Matt does it, Mello's heart does 10 million summersaults and he feels so loved he could cry.

But Matt also uses his gifts for 'evil' if he feels like being a little shit. He'll walk up to Mello and be all sweet like: "Hey Mels, I have a gift for you. 😇" And Mello is presented with a surprisingly detailed sketch of a butt. When he asks who's butt it is, Matt tells him it's Near's (it's not, but that doesn't stop Mello from physically recoilling at the mental image that brings up) and Mello doesn't speak to him for the rest of the day. This is Matt's favorite way of pranking Mello bc there's a 50/50 chance Mello will either laugh about it or become instantly furious with him. Either outcome is hilarious to Matt because Mello's reactions are priceless. One morning, Matt drew a mini comic of Roger as the Ice King from Adventure Time and Mello laughed so hard orange juice came out of his nose.

Mello ofc saves and cherishes all of Matt's little gifts. He has a sizable jewelry box that's filled with random origami, love notes, doodles/sketches, mini dream catchers, friendship bracelets, and a litany of other crafty gifts. Some are from when they were kids but most of them are recent. The few from the Kira case are the ones Mello appreciates the most. It reminds him of how even during the darkest moments of his life, he had Matt by his side; loving him and giving him dumb, cute little gifts.

Mello isn't very good at making stuff, but he does give Matt an occasional note or scribbly doodle. Sometimes they spend the whole day passing notes and sketches to each other. Most of the time they try to make each other laugh, but they'll occasionally slip in something romantic or sweet. Or spicy, to keep things interesting 👀

-Mello sends Matt selfies whenever he leaves the house. It's always random; most of the time they're thirst traps but sometimes he'll send a close up of him making a goofy face or rolling his eyes. When he goes clothes shopping he sends Matt pics of all the outfits he likes. Matt always responds with some kind of emoji, meme, or selfie of his own.

Matt adores all of the selfies and has a whole folder on his phone and computer dedicated to them. When he's sad or missing Mello, he'll scroll through them and it always cheers him up. He also sets them as the backgrounds on his phone and changes them like every other day bc he can never decide which one is his favorite (they're all his favorites ofc). Matt usually sets the goofy/unflattering selfies of Mello as his background bc it's rare to have a picture of him being silly, but Mello throws a fit whenever he notices it 😂

...

Enjoy some random hcs!

As some of you may know, these past few weeks were pretty rough on me and my family. Everything's alright now, but things were scary for a while. Now that everything has settled down, I'm feeling more like myself again so I've been trying to get back into writing. I'm starting out small with some dumb fluffy head canons, so I may make a few tiny posts here and there. Also I'm starting to write out the next fic request! I promise I haven't forgotten 😅 many apologies for the wait, but life got in the way.

Love you all, take care!!!