#guess who is creating an ask game in order to procrastinate

[mabledonut]

Creative Person Ask Game

🪴 What does your dream writing/creative studio look like?

🦾 What does your dream daily creative routine look like?

💪 What does your real daily creative routine look like? Morning, afternoon, or night?

📝 What does your note-taking or sketching or brainstorming process look like? Are you more organized or chaotic about it?

🤙 If there were slogans or posters on the walls of your creative headspace, what would they say? Any mottos you swear by?

🐣 Tell me about your earliest creative works or earliest memories of being creative.

🛀 Where and when do you get your best ideas (e.g. while showering, walking the dog, at work, in the car, talking to friends, etc.)?

🎸 Is there a certain piece of music or musician whose work always puts you into a creative mood?

😈 How do you beat the urge to procrastinate? What's your worst time-sink?

🤸 Are there things you allow yourself to do even though you know they're technically procrastination or unproductive, because you just don't always feel like being creative?

😤 Best remedies for when you feel stuck on a piece?

�� How do you stay motivated during a hard/busy life season?

😫 Tell me about your worst/longest creative dry spell, and how you got out of it.

😰 Ever had a work totally flop when you presented it, or not meet your own expectations? What did you do when facing failure?

😴 What do you do when you need a break? How do you personally rest and reset your creative mind?

🤡 What's your most eccentric trait or habit? Something unique to your creative process that you've never heard of anyone else doing but it works for you?

☕ Coffee, tea, or matcha latte? Or some other variant thereupon?

📚 Do you have a favorite book, art style, comic, movie, tv series, or other piece of media that serves as an inspiration to you?

🤝 Do you collaborate with others, or do you find it easier to bunker down and work through things on your own?

🧓 Long-term or lifetime creative goals you want to achieve?

🧞 If you could sit down for two hours and pick the brain of one other writer, artist, musician, or other creator, living or dead, who would it be?

[moiramorty]

habits of highly successful people ⭐💫

they say what they mean and mean what they say. they are impeccable with their own words. successful people don’t make you guess what they mean. they tell the truth and make it stupidly simple for other to understand their objective and intention in order to work well together.

they are self-aware. they know who they are, they have defined vision, and they know their strengths and weaknesses. successful people understand their responsibilities, roles, and identity.

they manage their time by managing their emotions. everyone can plan for the next day by allocating tasks into their schedule, but successful people go beyond that. they do what they need to do even it makes them uncomfortable. they manage their emotions better than everyone else.

they start before feeling ready. they do procrastinate, but they know how to deal with it. successful people never wait for the perfect timing to take action because they understand that there is no such thing as the perfect timing. they make decisions and take actions fast.

they eliminate choices and options. successful people are focused. they never dabble. they create systems to eliminate the need of making choices; they reduce their options before they even need to think about it. certainly, highly successful people make a lot of decisions, but they make sure those are really important ones.

they show up. they show up even when nobody does. not just showing up in the wins and celebrations, they are showing up during the grind, and in the face of fear and adversity.

they contribute before they ask. they find ways to provide value to others (their partners, team, customers) way before they even ask for anything in return.

they time-travel by picking other’s brain. they read to learn ideas that took the author 20 years to figure out, in 20 minutes. they value mentorship to skip through unnecessary mistakes and challenges that are coming in their way. they hire people who are smarter than them to compensate their weaknesses.

they are consistent. successful people put in the work day in and day out. they understand that results never appear from nowhere on the first day. they have faith in the power of tiny actions, and always aim for the long-term results. they won because they’re playing a long game while everyone else goes short.

they value true relationship. i haven’t found a successful person who messed up the relationship with everyone around them. successful people know that they won’t achieve what they had today without their mentor, friends, partners and team members.

they think they are lucky. we’re experiencing hundreds of incidents and events in a day, a slight change of any outcome is going to turn your life to a very different path. and successful people believe they are lucky to be successful and feeling grateful for that.

[nctsworld]

pedal to the metal

✩ jaemin x reader | mall au | arcade attendant!jaemin | fluff | 3.3k

SUMMARY ⇾ when the claw machine eats your money, jaemin, the cute arcade attendant, offers to play a game with you in lieu of a refund. little does he expect you to beat him. | based off of @mistymark​​’s nct mall employees post WARNINGS ⇾ fluff, bit of angst, jaemin is competitive, kissing in the epilogue     RATING ⇾ teen+ 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

Leaning over the glass counter filled with endless prizes, Jaemin holds out two large plushies, one in each of his hands. 

“Pikachu or Spongebob?” He swivels his head to them individually before beaming down at the little girl in front of him. 

With the alternating supervision of her parents, she’s been one of the recent regulars at the arcade and finally saved up enough tickets fo a decent prize, deciding to cash them in today. Her face lights up and targets in on one particular plushie, already inching towards it with open hands. 

“Pikachu, Pikachu!” she squeals. 

The worker’s smile deepens, “Great choice. Couldn’t have picked better myself.” 

He laughs airily as she squeezes Pikachu like it’s the last thing she’ll ever love, bouncing up and down with joy. Today, the girl’s mom is with her and she holds her ecstatic daughter close to her leg, rubbing her arm warmly. 

“So I guess I’ll see you two next week?” Jaemin asks. 

“If she gets over Pikachu as fast as she did with Olaf, then probably yes,” the mom replies with a defeated head shake. “Thanks again, Jaemin. Say bye to the nice boy.” 

“Bye, Jaemin!” 

The mother and daughter wave good-bye with wide smiles, as did Jaemin. Giving prizes out and seeing the delightful reactions on the recipient’s face was one of the best parts of his job. 

Oh, and so was being able to play all the arcade games for free. 

For Jaemin, being the arcade attendant at the local mall was a dream come true. He was once in the same place as the little girl—always coming to the same arcade every day after school. Although he loved winning prizes (who doesn’t?), he also prided himself in being the best at every game, knowing all the secrets and strategies like the back of his hand. Dance Dance Revolution, Street Fighter, Beatmania, Time Crisis, Super Bike, Pac-Man… You name it, and Jaemin can wipe the floor with anybody. It’s why none of his friends liked to play the games with him, but they still had fun nonetheless.

“That girl is insane!” Chenle exclaims with a point of his thumb, strolling up to the counter. He’s one of Jaemin’s many friends and an everyday mall-goer. Jisung comes up next to him, also a friend and works at the mall’s McDonald’s. The mall was really a second home to them all. 

Jisung bobs his head in disbelief. Then, he turns to face their worker friend. 

“You’ve gotta admit she’s really good, right?” 

The lanky figure cocks an eyebrow. “What are you guys talking about? I was busy giving out a prize to someone.” 

The shortest individual of the three widens his eyes. “There was a girl who was just playing Super Bike. She kept kicking everyone’s ass, even us.”

Jisung nods fervently, “I was telling Chenle that she’s probably as good as you, maybe even better.” 

Jaemin scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “No one can beat me at Super Bike, you both know that.” 

“You haven’t seen her play, though…” Chenle sighs dreamily, perching his chin into his palms, as he drifts off into space and replays the gameplay in his mind. 

“I don’t know, Jaemin,” Jisung shrugs. He absentmindedly fiddles with the bundle of tickets left by the little girl. “It’s about time someone beat you at one of the games.” 

Suddenly, Jaemin snatches the tickets from his hands, startling the younger boy. Said younger boy glances up to meet a pair of slitted, burning eyes. In an instant, Jaemin’s eyes melt and a cocky expression flashes by.  

“Like I always say, I never lose.” 

He begins to count the tickets, but the thought of someone being better than him makes him lose track. 

After he finishes counting the tickets, he casually checks-up on the motorcycle racing simulator to see what all the fuss was about. To his disappointment, he is met with a young boy, playing by himself.  

Jaemin makes a mental note to keep an eye and ear out for this mystery Super Bike girl.  

A few days pass. You’re at the mall by yourself to kill some time and to procrastinate on studying. You spent a while at the bookstore already, so you decide to do something a little more fun. 

At the bustling arcade, you’re quickly drawn towards the claw machine with the mountain of plushies. You know the odds of winning are low, but one round couldn’t hurt. Placing your money into the claw machine, you begin to fiddle with the joystick. However, nothing’s moving. 

Your face crinkles in confusion, so you add money again, thinking that maybe it was a one-time fluke. Nope, definitely not a fluke because the claw still doesn’t work. You’re now two dollars down and you didn’t even get the chance to play.  

Walking around the arcade, you try to find a worker, but to no avail. You stand in front of the glass counter, waiting for an attendant. While waiting, you’re peering at all the variety of prizes to be won and wish you were skilled and patient enough to obtain such things. It’s no wonder why the claw machine drew you in, at least that game filled you with a false sense of a fast and easy win.   

After finishing a supervising round in the arcade, Jaemin notices a girl at the front counter. Actually, scratch that, a stunning girl—one that he hasn’t seen in the arcade before. He’d definitely remember you if you had. The ends of his mouth stretch and he strides towards you with a wind of confidence.

“Hi, do you need help with something?” 

Jolting slightly, you’re taken aback by both the handsome figure and the question. You saw him earlier at one of the games, but it never crossed your mind that such a young, attractive guy like that would be the resident arcade attendant. You subconsciously do a double take, eyeing him up and down, causing Jaemin’s grin to become more cheeky.

“Hi, yeah,” You point to where you were previously. “I was trying the claw machine and it took my money, but it didn’t let me play any rounds.” 

“Oh?” He scrunches his face and heads toward the machine. You follow behind. “We just fixed it a few weeks ago, that’s weird.” 

At the claw machine, Jaemin feels around the machine, checking on the knobs and buttons, and even places a coin into it to test out your claim. He tinkers with the joystick, and realizes you’re right; the machine’s only taking money without allowing any plays. 

So he kicks it. Hard.  

You break out into a chortle. “Does that actually help?” 

“Always works like a charm.” 

Another kick, and more chortling.��

Jaemin shifts his head towards you and places a hand on his chest. His eyes waver, searching around him as if someone would be listening, and lowers his voice in a hush. 

“I’m a secret machine whisperer, you gotta trust me,” he says with a small wink, and you trust him by standing back and resuming to observe him with a fluttering heart.  

The attendant tries the machine with money once more, but the kicking evidently didn’t help. This only leads Jaemin to increase the intervals of his kicking. Soon, kicking evolves into desperately shaking the contraption.  

Bemused and shaking your head, you comment, “I don’t think your whispering is working very well.” 

He attempts one last time, but to nobody’s surprise, it fails. He tapes an out of order sign onto the glass. With hands on his hips, he exhales a lengthy sigh.  

“Sorry for your lost money. I can give you a refund.”

“Aw, no. It’s okay, it was only a couple of bucks. I was more so looking forward to playing the game, really.” 

A lightbulb goes off in Jaemin’s head. 

“Did you wanna play a game with me to make up for it instead?” 

Although he enunciates the question slowly, cautious of your reply and potential rejection, there’s a contrasting smug expression on his face. Your teeth tug at your bottom lip, about to answer, but then you pout.  

“Aren’t you working right now though?” 

Jaemin shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s kind of slow at the moment and I can argue that I’m maintaining the game.”

“Like what you were just doing with the claw machine?” 

“Exactly.” 

Both of you laugh in unison, gazes converging together. If only the strong sparks flying between you two could somehow fix the claw machine... but then again, you would’ve never had a reason to speak to the beautiful boy in the first place. 

“Sure, what game did you have in mind?” 

Tapping a finger on his chin, Jaemin runs the possibilities in his head. What’s a game that he can easily impress you with his skills, but is also equally fun for you to play? 

“Super Bike?” he offers. 

You nod with a small smile, “Okay, lead the way.” 

Thankfully, as the two of you arrive at the game, no one’s currently playing. You jump onto the left motorcycle, while Jaemin gets onto the right. He enjoys how you cutely sway back and forth, accustoming yourself to the fake motorbike. He gives you a quick breakdown of the controls, and tells you to focus only on the gas and brake since he’ll choose automatic transmission to make things easier for you. You hum with puffed cheeks, ready to play. 

Following Jaemin’s choices of the easiest map level and transmission settings, the race immediately starts. 

Jaemin can play Super Bike in his sleep, so he starts off the first half of the lap with his eyes on his screen, then for the second half, he looks over at you for a few moments. You’re glued to your screen. The glint in your eyes sparkles with pure amusement and an edge of competitiveness. He breathes in the enticing sight, especially as you bite your lip with heightened focus. 

But then, flashes of red flare upon your face. Jaemin’s heart knocks nervously at his chest because the flashes are coming from the sign above your screen with the words ”RACE LEADER”. He’s dragged straight into the match again, not wanting to lose.  

“Have you played this before?” he shouts over the background noises and music. 

“Only a few times,” you shrug lightly. Your eyebrows raise as Jaemin catches up, trailing almost nose to nose with the end of your motorcycle, yet the finish line is approaching fast. Narrowing your eyes, you accelerate and curve around the last bit of the map without struggle. Before you know it, you reach the finish line right before Jaemin does. 

As the first place win radiates from your screen, you pump your arms in the air and remove yourself from the bike. 

On the other hand, Jaemin’s gaze is stuck on the screen, jaw hanging. The big two taunts him with every flicker.  

“Well, that was fun. Thanks for the game—” 

You’re about to ask for his name, but his odd reaction catches you off-guard. You take a step closer to him until someone cries out:   

“That’s Super Bike girl!”

Swinging your head towards the origin of the cry, you see a boy jog over with a wave of his index finger. Chenle’s voice breaks the arcade attendant out of his frozen state. Jaemin whips his head towards you, still on the motorbike.   

“You’re Super Bike girl?!” he echoes, eyebrows knitted. 

“I already have a nickname around here?” you giggle. “I only played this game once a few days ago.” 

Chenle asks him, “Did Biker Girl beat you?” 

Jaemin avoids the inquiry, darting his eyes and pressing his lips together tightly. The friend passes the question onto you with owl eyes, and you shyly nod. 

“Oh, my God, and I missed it?!” He huffs in disappointment, but then recollects himself as he takes a few steps toward you. 

“Are you free after seven to come back and play again? Our friends need to witness this. This is history in the making.” 

Immediately, Jaemin shoots daggers into Chenle. The daggers definitely have profanities written all over. You catch a glimpse of Jaemin and can practically read every word.  

“Uhm,” you lower your voice, despite the fact Jaemin can still hear you. “Your friend looks pretty pissed. I feel kinda bad to just come back to beat him in front of people.”

“Oh, don’t worry about feeling bad,” the attendant’s friend waves his hand carelessly. “He always makes us feel bad when he constantly brags about how he’s the best at every game in here.” 

“Is that so?” You glance at the boy on the bike with a new perspective. You could definitely see this guy as cocky, but maybe he’s still sweet underneath the exterior. You also wouldn’t mind seeing him once more before you head home, and now you had a reason. 

“Well, count me in. I’ll be back at seven on the dot.” 

With a flutter of your fingers, you say your temporary good-byes to the pair of boys and head out of the arcade. Jaemin finally props himself off the motorbike, getting back to work.   

Passing by Chenle, he half-jokingly seethes, “I hate you,” into his ear. 

Without a care in the world, Chenle frantically messages their group chat to come by the mall later to witness the match of a lifetime. 

“Hey, did I miss it?” Mark pants as he puts an arm around Jeno from behind. 

“No, you got here right on time. Super Bike girl should be coming any time soon.” 

On the backend of the motorbike, Jaemin sits at the edge of it, studying the modest crowd around the racing simulator. Along with Jisung and Chenle, several of Jaemin’s other close friends are here to cheer for his downfall. For those who aren’t there, his friends are equipped with their phones in hand, ready to record the monumental event. 

Weaving through the crowd with mumbles of “Excuse me’s,” you reach your destination and appear in front of the arcade worker. 

The rising buzz of the crowd fades from your ears and into the background within his presence. You melt at him looking so coolly, bending over the motorbike with folded arms, and give him a warm smile. 

“Just because you’ve got a sweet smile, it doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you.” 

You playfully drop your mouth as the people around “Ooooh” in harmony. Your tongue is pressed against your lower teeth as Jaemin spins himself to the front of the bike. You get onto your previous seat from hours ago, grasping onto the fake vehicle as if you owned it.

You watch Jaemin enter the settings in. He’s not underestimating you this time and he executes his promise of not going easy on you—the hardest map and manual transmission are chosen, signaling you to really bring your A-game for this round.    

At first, the match is tight. You’re practically side by side on the map, even having the occasional opportunity to push him off track and vice-versa. Changing up techniques, as the second lap rings in, you switch transmission gears and ease on the brake for a brief moment, hugging the curve of the map. 

With that move, the red light flashes above him. Jaemin believes, no, he knows he’s going to win. Sweet victory is on the tip of his tongue, he can taste it. Ten seconds are left on the clock, ten seconds left until he beats you and continues to reign king of the game.

But, you suddenly speed past him and the game’s over before he can properly process it.  

The screams surrounding you engulf the entirety of the arcade.

Jaemin’s mouth is on the floor as he realizes he lost. 

No, his mouth is six feet under because you’re currently entering a nickname into the all-time best rankings. You beat Jaemin’s time on the map, seizing the new first place rank for the game. 

Everyone circles you in congratulations, but your eyes are honed in on one individual in the crowd. He hops off the bike, brushes past the crowd, and escapes to the counter, continuing his shift like nothing happened. Hastily, you go after him and find him crouching down behind the glass. He’s unpacking boxes filled with what you assume are prizes. 

On your forearms, you lean over the glass counter. “Hey, when does your shift end?” 

Your assumption is answered as you see him restock some of the plushies in the transparent container underneath you. 

“Why do you want to know? So you can beat me again at another game?” he grumbles, the bitterness blatant in his voice. Nevertheless, you persist. 

“‘Cause Super Bike girl wants to get to know the cute Arcade Boy she met today over dinner.” 

He pauses and his eyebrows perk up at the words cute and dinner in the same sentence. His ego is still sore, but he’ll bite.    

“Is it a date?” he presses further with a disinterested tone, continuing to move the items.  

You drag your bottom lip up, drumming your fingers slowly against the glass. 

“Only if you want it to be.” 

Your words bandage his sore ego quickly, but he wants to bathe in his pity a little while longer. He twists his mouth, fighting against the urge to show you his teeth.  

The boy stands up and leans over the counter too. He’s greeted by your strong aura, yet it doesn’t completely reach your eyes; your gaze is soft and gentle. “I get off at nine, so it’s pretty late.” 

“That’s okay. I can play games until then—” 

You peel yourself off from the glass and properly introduce yourself, holding your hand out. He glances at it for a second, then at your tender look. He gives in and can't help himself from grinning. The arcade attendant reaches for your hand and reciprocates the shake.  

“I’m Jaemin.”  

That day, Jaemin learned that losing at the arcade games wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

EPILOGUE 

Clutching onto Jaemin’s waist underneath his leather jacket with your chin resting on his shoulder, you’re swaying side by side with him on the racing game that brought you two together. It’s his day off today, and both of you thought it’d be cute to spend some time at the arcade before the movie showing later that evening. 

“Ease on the gas!” you dictate. He rolls his eyes at your backseat driving.    

“No, it’s too early!” he protests and goes against your advice, accelerating further. When that makes him go off-road a bit, you sigh smugly while he groans meekly. 

“See, and this is why I’m better at Super Bike than you,” you tease before pecking a kiss on his cheek. Tingles rise to his cheeks.

“Yeah, but I’ve played this game a lot longer than you.” It’s the second lap and he’s inching towards the finish line.  

“Yeah, but who holds the record?” 

After he speeds through it, the list of the best times roll onto the screen. Your nickname still stands proudly at number one from the day you asked him out on a date. 

Jaemin smiles at the not-so far memory. He then twists and extends his neck over his shoulder, sharing a sweet kiss with you. Your grip around his waist tightens, your fingers sinking into his skin. His palm raises and cups your face, deepening the kiss.    

Breaking away for a moment, he says, “Yeah, well, I’m the better kisser.” 

You sweep your nose against his. “That’s up for debate…” 

Your lips meet once more lovingly.  

“Can you guys stop making out in the arcade again?” Jisung groans. “Kids are here, you know. Like me.” 

Chenle cuts in, “I thought you were glad someone beat Jaemin for once.”

“I mean, yeah, but I didn’t expect the same person to have her tongue constantly down his throat!” 

Still lip-locked, Jaemin and you smile into the next kisses from their remarks while Jisung and Chenle run off to play another game, far away from the new couple.

[inventors-fair]

New Year’s Resolutions: Group commentary

Welcome to the group commentary! As I said in the winner’s post, there were a lot of white cards in the inbox, and that’s an obvious sign that white needs a small rework to keep up with its buffed up brothers.

@misterstingyjack​ White does lover its planeswalkers and tying card draw with a powerful card type could be reasonable since card draw is white’s main weakness. However I would like it more if this loyalty extension was offered by a creature, so at least you can keep the game rolling.

@askkrenko​ MaRo has mentioned the “elemental” supertype quite a few times in podcasts etc, but its really too late to add this element to the game. But we’re here to dream and create, and Strike Twice would be a sick card, if not a staple, in that parallel universe. Also this is the most badass a Pichu has ever been XD

@ignorantturtlegaming​ There were no additional notes other than this crazy card in the inbox, so I can only guess that the creator wants more group-hug effects in red. I want to say Fires of Renewal is on the expensive side, but the effects it offers unconditionally are all very impactful. The Melvin in me appreciates all the instances of “2″ in the card!

@wolkemesser​ gave life to an ancient mtg character from the Shattered Chains book and boy, she’s a truly solid card. Ordando has decent stats and gives some additional staying power to monowhite decks. I like the whole flavor that is so tough that she can protect others and come back again, but the execution feels a little off to me, as discard and mill decks can abuse her in non white ways. Since we’re going for the flavor win, I would like it more if in order to protect something she exiled herself with a promise counter (which in turn allows her to be cast from exile.)

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ A disgustingly evil win more card? Sign me up! The philosophy of the card plays very nicely in black, especially with low cost high stated creatures that ask for their tribute every upkeep! Counterspells in black are a big stretch in my opinion, but no one can’t deny this card is a big flavor win!

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion Speaking of counterspells, here’s another suggestion for them being in white. Many protective cards can be treated as counterspells, so we could find a loophole and treat this as a very wide protective spell. I think we could have cards like this in the future, but it’s still treacherous terrain because they must be so efficient that might replace blue’s role in the game.

@naban-dean-of-irritation​ I have mixed feelings about Korair. Flavor text matches with the card’s name quite nicely but it doesn’t connect with the actual gameplay. Also venturing into the unexplored “emblems matter territory” is surely exciting, but I don’t like the fact that is creates emblems by itself, and with that ease to boot!

@mardu-lesbian​ Hindsight is pitched as the blue/red shared keyword ability. I view it in a positive light, meaning I think it’s both flavorful and makes sense for those two colors, but it’s a bit unexciting that it matters only once in the creature’s life on the battlefield, while other shared keywords are combat related and have a greater impact in the game.

@deafeningsandwichpeach​ Hexproof for player is a rare sight, usually preserved for white and green, but there’s also Leyline of Sanctity and Witchbane Orb and this changes things to the point I would even tell this card is overcosted. Cost aside, I really like Seal into Darkness!

@snugz​ I would really love blue getting a combat ability that’s not straight evasion, but going full throttle to lure all creatures is a bit much, given that existing cards are usually uncommon. It could be like old fashioned provoke ( forcing a one on one fight) or even a numbered mechanic, like lure 1 or 3 etc, forcing 1 or 3 creatures to block.

@hypexion​ ​  Lapse of Certainty is definitely  a card, but there’s a reason why it was not repeated. Here, Mean’s to Delay, like Unexpectedly Absent, is an X spell where usually the correct way to ply it is for X=0, turning it into a slightly better counterspell. Not against counterspells in white, but be cautious.

@deg99 With this Angrath design, deg wanted to build more on the Rakdos color combination, through caring about stolen creatures and you know accidentally sacrificing them before returning them to their rightful owners. The power level is quite high, but it’s so enticing that I would gladly playtest this card to enjoy the crazy ride!

@hiygamer​ Sooner or later, we will see this card printed, I’m sure! When that time comes, I hope it costs a little less, and also that it has an equally inspiring flavor text! Really nice design!

@thedirtside Our friendly snailbear wanted magic to be a little more weird, and what’s weirder than a procrastinating Eldrazi, looming over the battlefield, doing it’s own things. Given, its practically impossible to interact with it and this takes away a lot of points per say, but I love suspend and bizarre triggers that feel like a disturbance in the Force. But we must cling to simpler things to make it happen.

@stormtide-leviathan​ The proposal of this design is sponsored by “Horse United” inc and pushes WOTC to pass an errata to merge all Pegasi, Unicorn and Horses into one race XD On the actual design, Swifting Steed is a real treat for limited!

@teaxch​ here tacling on the big issues of mtg, the shared keyword for blue and black! Feint is surely flavorful and it would make combats really interesting, but the main requirement for a shared keyword is to be able to mix with the other established keywords of the color pair. Blue and black have a lot of evasive abilities so an ability that matters when you’re blocked might not get the green light. That said, I definitely want to see this ability here and there in sets. A little guile spices things up! Also, neat flavor text XD!

@dimestoretajic​ With a quick read I was quite thrilled, but then I realized that you had collective care about itself. That leads into being a bit clunky, and also it goes from 0 to 100 in 1 sec because it’s either you have not 3 collective so no draw for you, or you got 3 , which means 3 triggers and thus 3 cards!! With a small tweak, this brave insect could be holding the fair’s coveted trophy!

@corporalotherbear

​ It’s true that there are some dryads that care about multicolored shenanigans, and I really like Manatwist Dryad playing into this space and establishing this trend. Because if green can’t care about multicolors, who can?

@fractured-infinity​ Edit: I forgot the commentary for this entry last night. My sincere apologies! A new card type is always an exciting gift for our inbox! Strongholds can die from damage like planeswalker do. They make sense in white and I could see them secondary in blue as large structures are products of community and science.

Watcher’s tower has two passive abilities, the vigilance granting requires 0 effort, while the buff requires you to “man” the stronghold with the garrison activated ability. I wish phasing was still relevant so the creatures would phase out instead of exiling themselves, because things can quickly get out of hand with blink shenanigans.

The +2/+2 buff might be a bit much because it isn’t that hard to get it online on turn 3. But all in all, Watcher’s Tower is very interesting and I hope Wizards will explore this space in the future.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff Sometimes you see a mechanic and it’s not in the color it deserves to be. Mentor in Green seems like a perfect fit, and the non human clause gives this Leonin a greater sense of camaraderie. All in all a good design and future proposal.

@gollumni​ I saw this card in a very positive light with the first read. I like investigate after all, and I had good memories of it pulling its weight in Shadows over Innistrad, giving White a taste of the forbidden fruit that is card draw. But with the second read, I feel the card is too efficient, taping two creatures and two lands for an instant speed draw is quite good, and adding the overrun option felt a bit too much. But other than power level concerns, I really dig this design.

@corillion​ This might seem like an everyday card without context, but the change suggested involves first strike and double strike being relevant in fights. I’m all for it, but I got a feeling that the closer we will get to this is like a first strike lord that allows only first strikers deal damage in fights.

@kytheon4-4 said let there be hatebears, but we got hatebirbs instead XD but instead of harassing your opponent, this feathered boi plainly protects your side of the board so you get to play uninterrupted, but only on your turn. Fair and square.

@reaperfromtheabyss​ Ending the same way we started, with planeswalker support, this time in Red, as it is proposed to be the secondary planeswalker matters color. I can get behind this idea, as red has a sense of wanderlust thematically, and in terms of game, it cares about noncreature spells so planeswalkers are game too. On the card itself, the etb trigger is quite nice, even dealing two damage is fine. About the alternative loyalty ability, a mere ping is something that you would encounter on a weaker planeswalker, so it could at least be a + 2 loyalty ability, to ensure the survival of your planeswalker, as red isn’t really good at defending.

[consummate-deviant]

Continued thoughts about Catra and Hordak...

Hello again, y’all!  Is life still treating you okay?  Have you spent time with your pet lately?  Eating a healthy and balanced diet?   Just a smaller thing today, not one of my full-blown book reports, but the infection that is she-ra passion has somehow managed to reach me even through the haze of pokemon breeding that has owned my soul this past week, and I gotta words some more.  The topic of discussion today will be Catra and Hordak… namely, how I interpret their dynamic going through season 4, and why some people view it as romantic. I’m… a bit of a windbag, though!  So, just to be safe, I’m gonna put the rest of this post behind a cut.  Let it never be said I was aught but a considerate dude.  Let’s discuss!

Now, as I mentioned earlier, I don’t view the dynamic between Catra and Hordak as romantic in season 4.  I think the reason it can kind of seem that way is that season 4 really did shift their relationship in a fairly dynamic way, and the contrast between the way they interacted before and the way they interacted after is pretty stark. Normally, such a wide contrast is brought about by the development of romantic interest by one or both parties, but in this case I posit that the cause was something equally interesting...  though quite a bit more tame: it was the first time there was any sort of emotional interaction between them, at all.

I should probably step back though!  Lemme explain what I mean.  How would you describe Catra’s relationships with Hordak and Shadow Weaver across the first three seasons of the show?  One of the more interesting takes I’ve heard is that the dynamic between the three of them is an allusion to a dysfunctional family.  Catra is the child acting out because she wants Mom and Dad to acknowledge her.  Shadow Weaver is the caustic maternal figure, emotionally sabotaging her child for her own benefit, and Hordak is the aloof, emotionally detached father figure…  The kind of Dad who can’t come to your basketball game this week, kiddo, because work called… but he’ll be there next week for sure!

...unless work calls again next week… and work always calls again.  

I agree with about half of this.  The fact that Shadow Weaver is meant to be seen as an allusion to a poisonous maternal relationship feels pretty close to undeniable.  Likewise, any doubt that Catra sought to be valued emotionally by her flew out the window when we saw the way Shadow Weaver treated her in the illusory reality created by the portal.

Pictured... kitty getting scritches.

Catra wanted to be appreciated, accepted, and loved by Shadow Weaver, and the tragedy of her character comes from being denied those things.  By contrast, when it comes to Hordak, of those three desires: appreciation, acceptance, and love… she only really wants two of them.

There is no personal element to the early relationship between Catra and Hordak, on either side.  Catra neither seeks fatherly love from Hordak, nor seems to be distressed by the lack of it, and that difference in her dynamic with Shadow Weaver and Hordak is pretty important.

Catra desires maternal love from Shadow Weaver.  What she desires from Hordak isn’t paternal love, but rather patriarchal validation.  Hordak represents the power structure of the world into which Catra was born, and her desire is to be seen as a component of that structure that has value.

For three seasons, where Hordak is concerned, her first priority is to be seen as an undeniably competent subordinate.  She endeavors to complete the tasks she’s given efficiently, and attempts to make suggestions with the intent of increasing the effectiveness of the organization. She fails in gaining his appreciation, and grows annoyed and frustrated by this, but that shallow anger she expresses toward him pales in comparison to the absolute devastation that Shadow Weaver’s ever-more-personal rejections bring her.  Had the status quo remained where it was, the two of them likely would never have grown any closer to one another… but then season 4 happened.

So, last week I shamelessly stole a question aimed @cruelfeline​ , and in my tactless theft I mentioned my answer to the question “why didn’t Catra just kill Hordak when she had him at her mercy in episode one”. I’m going to repeat that here, just to make sure it’s established:

“Some people don’t get why she spared Hordak instead of killing him, when she had him at her mercy, but she actually had a pretty vital need for him.  Catra has lost the ability to self validate: a lifetime of being raised by Shadow Weaver has beaten it out of her.  Thus, she has a pretty intense desire to receive external validation from an outside force… and with Shadow Weaver gone, Hordak was the only person around who could provide that.”

And let’s be clear on this first and foremost: the S4 relationship between Catra and Hordak is, for both parties, an attempt at rebound.  This is the first time Catra has Shadow Weaver fully cut from her life, leaving her with only Hordak to supply her with parental appreciation, and Hordak has been betrayed by someone he cared for deeply, but receives motivation to destructively channel his negative emotions from Catra.

This is also the first time Catra interacts with the real Hordak, and not the mask he usually wears before his subordinates.  While being exposed to his vulnerability gave her the power to usurp him, it also led her to a realization:  Hordak is… a lot like her.  One of my other favorite moments of wordless acting takes place with Catra in season 4. Hordak is expressing his feelings of inadequacy and desire to be acknowledged by his brother while destroying them princesses, and Catra, despite saying nothing, displays a range of expressions and ear movements that seem to say ‘wait a minute… is this guy… actually my dad, after all?’

That realization of commonality leads to the first actual emotional interactions between the pair.  The first actual attempt to understand each other, and that is, undeniably, a massive shift from the cold professionalism of their previous relationship.  Catra was always quick to assure Hordak that their actions were leading them down the path to his brother’s acknowledgment, and Hordak, in turn, validated Catra’s actions and choices… which she especially needed to hear in season 4, when she pushed literally everyone else out of her life. Unfortunately, as I mentioned, their relationship was mutually self destructive… each brought out the worst from the other, and helped their downward spiral remain in motion.  It’s interesting how there is a bit of similarity to the dynamic between Hordak and Entrapta and the one between he and Catra. Both are examples of awkward, lonely people, realizing they share more in common than they realized, and growing closer as a result. The latter is more parental than romantic, but the similarity is intentional, all the same… a way of contrasting healthy and unhealthy relationships, if I had to guess.

So… yeah!  If you’re wondering what the point of all that was… well… I’m flattered you think highly enough of me to assume I ever have a point to saying anything!  I was just pondering she-ra while biking across Galar, waiting for my rookidees to hatch...as you do… and decided I wanted to talk about  it some more! As always, I’m not really out here to persecute the Catdak shippers… er… all five of you.  I will never be the guy to judge people who ship things I personally don’t like, because I’m not a mailbox head.  Just expressing why I don’t think it’s romantically coded, but also why I still find it fascinating regardless. That’s enough outta me, though!  You guys have a lovely and productive week. If you have any she-ra related thingamajigs you, for whatever reason, wish to hear my thoughts about, feel free to ask, and I’ll see ya the next time I have the urge to feel ways about stuff.  Been procrastinating on my fanfic writing… so I think my next order of business will be to get that ball rolling again.  Anyhow, see ya!  Be sure to indulge in the finest of all winter beverages: warm, spiced eggnog.

[laertesstudies]

I got tagged in my first tag game by the awesome @study-not-procrastinating! Thank you so much!!

Rules: Answer 10 questions, the tag and pose 10 questions to 10 people.

Alright, here we go!

1. How would you like to be remembered in 200 years?

Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it! I don’t really have that same lust for immortality that i had as a kid. I guess I’d just like to be remembered as someone who was kind and loyal, and who helped someone achieve something amazing in their life. Maybe as someone who wrote a bomb paper about floral imagery in the Iliad.

2.  If you could get any director for a documentary about yourself, who would you pick and why?

Tim Burton! Maybe not a traditional documentary, I would love to have it in his style of stop motion clay. Growing up, I was always attracted to the darker and more macabre aspects of life, and that made it a bit hard to fit in. Fellow goths, you know what I mean. Tim Burton’s art showed me that I wasn’t alone, that there were other people out there who saw the beauty in the same things I did, and that it was okay to embrace your individuality!

3. What would be a museum exhibit that would definitely catch your attention?

Anything about the reign of Mansa Musa! Or about the history of math in the ancient Middle East!

4. If you could commit any crime and not get caught, what would you do?

Steal and repatriate a sacred item stolen from an indigenous people and placed in a museum by people who didn’t respect its intended purpose. Or create a perfectly counterfeit copy of a lost Rembrandt painting and sell it to a billionaire and give the proceeds to local schools who had their art programs cut.

5. Which anime/movie trope do you want to be?

I don’t know the name for it, but the character who’s super sweet and bubbly and maybe a little naive. Like Mako in KLK, Tohru in Fruitsbasket, or Cat in Victorious!

6. Which anime/movie trope are you really?

Either the otaku or the crybaby. 

7. At what age would you tell a child Santa isn’t real?

Whenever they seriously ask or start to show signs of disbelief. But I would 1000% make sure that they knew that Santa Claus is real, that those of us who know the secret become Santa Claus and it’s our job to continue spreading joy and belief to the younger kids.

8. Which artist, either dead or living, would you pick to create a portrait of you?

Oh! This is a really tough one. There are so many artists out there who are amazing. For dead artists, I would probably have to say Salvador Dali. For living artists, definitely the amazing @marina-does-things. Her knight Daisy filled my heart with so much joy and she’s so talented!!

9. You can turn back time and rewrite one book that you read in high school English class. What do you change, and why?

If I had to choose, I would have Shakespeare make Romeo and Juliet take place over 3 weeks or months instead of 3 days. It would maybe decrease the satirical element about teens being dumb and making bad decisions, but would that really be so bad? And it would still be an incredibly heartbreaking tale about how there is no place for love in a world ruled by hate and fear, about how that doesn’t matter and we have to love anyway because that is the only way to fight that hate. It would still be a story of how their love was so pure, it defied the rules that bound their lives. But that way when people say that Romeo and Juliet “loved” each other, it would actually be possible. 

10. If you were a billionaire, what is the one totally self-indulgent and weird thing you would have and everyone around you would have to pretend is cool.

XD Oh, the choices!! If I could only have one totally self-indulgent thing, I think I would have a bumper car type thing installed in my courtyard, but instead of cars, it would be dalek suits that you could sit in!

Sorry for the long post! Here are my 10 questions:

If you had to choose one decade to erase from history in order to save the planet from extinction, what decade would you choose and why?

Which of your parents do you think you are more like?

What do you think are the 5 most beautiful things one earth?

If you could explore either the deepest parts of the ocean or the furthest reaches of space, which would you choose?

What do you love most about your culture?

Who is the one person you would talk to about anything?

Do you have a favorite sitcom? If so, what is it?

When you think of home, what comes to mind?

If you could do absolutely anything you want tonight, and money was no concern, what would you do?

What is something you learned today that was completely unexpected or just really interesting?

@jawnkeets @etherealacademia @thawinoakenshield @studylustre @languages-and-code @gildedstudy @studylikeathena @studyambitiouss @studydiaryofamedstudent @dionyrtal

[infernaleikon]

say hey if you’re gay

Based on this (x)

* * * * * * * * * * *

Derek wakes with a wicked pounding in his head. His mouth feels parched, the taste on his tongue stale, his throat kind of itchy. He doesn’t remember getting home or into bed, but there’s a glass of water on his nightstand. Carefully, he sits up, groaning at the feeling of sickness pulling at his stomach. He sits for a moment, blinking against the spot dancing in his vision, before he reaches for the glass. As soon as the liquid hits his tongue, he opens his mouth letting it drain back into the glass.

It’s vodka. He guesses it might be his friends’ payback for doing this to them each time he brought their drunk asses home. Derek’s annoyed, but he can’t help the tiny smirk stealing its way across his lips. He knows it’s a dick move, but the gleeful satisfaction he gets when his phone pings with incoming messages bitching about the prank is well worth it.

He had it coming, so it’s fine.

Derek drags himself out of bed, changes into a clean pair of boxers, and a shirt as he looks for his phone. He finds it in the back pocket of the jeans he had on last night, with a new sticker on the back of the cover, reading, #stanfordgetnaked. He doesn’t know how or when exactly he acquired it, or what it even means, but he kind of likes it. Getting naked is always a good idea, if you ask him.

When he opens the door to his room, the smell of pizza hits his nose. Derek sighs happily. Grease always helps curing his hangovers, plus, it means he doesn’t have to order and wait for at least half an hour to get his hands on food.

It’s quiet in the apartment, and Derek briefly wonders if Laura and Cora are out or just quietly nursing their own hangovers. He gathers it’s the latter, considering the heavenly scent of pizza. One of them had probably gotten up earlier and already ordered for all of them. It happened sometimes. Although Derek would, around witnesses, always swear that he hates going out and partying with his sisters, he actually enjoys it. They are, against all odds, quite fun to be around. He will not be caught admitting it out loud, though.

He’s watching Erica’s Instagram stories from last night as he steps into the open kitchen, letting his nose guide him towards the food. The last story is a picture of him, with the imprint of Erica’s trademark red lipstick high on his cheek and a ridiculous amount of glitter in his hair. He can’t even remember what happened there.

Absently, he grabs a slice of pizza from one of the boxes, thinking about grabbing a coffee as well. Derek holds on to the pizza slice with his mouth as he turns around to power up the machine, and glances up.

There are five pairs of eyes trained on him, all with different levels of confusion and amusement in them. He freezes mid-movement, staring back at them. Cora’s sitting among them, the most shit-eating grin stretched over her face as she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Hey,” somebody says, and Derek’s eyes flick toward the source. The slice of pizza almost drops out of his mouth, before he remembers it’s there and puts it down.

It’s Stiles. Of course it’s him, of course he’s here. He smirks at Derek, and it does things to him. He’s too hungover for this.

“What—” His voice comes out croaky.

Stiles’ smirk widens a bit, and Cora looks like she might just die from trying—and failing—to contain gleeful laughter.

“Study group,” she tells him. “Remember? I told you, like, five times.”

“Right,” Derek mutters, scrubs a hand over his face. Glitter flitters out of his beard, and his hand comes away covered in it as well. He barely manages to hold in a groan.

He decides against coffee, grabs his slice, croaks out a hoarse “Sorry” before he trods back to his room with as much bravado as he can muster.

It’s only when he crosses the big mirror they have hanging on the wall in the hallway that he realizes his entire head is covered in glitter. Erica’s lipstick is still on his cheek, he’s wearing Batman boxers, and the shirt that says, say hey if you’re gay on the front.

He doesn’t leave the room for the remainder of the day and manages to push this particular moment out of his mind until both Laura and Cora practically fall through his door, laughing like hyenas at his mortification.

Because, of course, Cora’s told Laura all about it.

* * *

Derek is way too tired to be out right now; the exhaustion and desperation of finishing his paper on time still cling to him. Damn procrastination. He’s pretty sure he is in extremely desperate need of a shower and a good night’s (most likely night’s and day’s) sleep, and he’s most definitely unfit to be seen in public. At least that’s what Laura said to him when she dragged him out to go grocery shopping anyway.

Derek’s on auto-pilot pushing the cart through the aisles while his sisters flit through the store collecting the shit they need. He can’t muster the cognitive effort to pay any attention to anything.

“You look like you’ve been swallowed by that one Greek sea monster, you know, the hellmouth thing, and managed to fight your way back out of it but lost several years doing it.”

Derek would’ve ignored the comment—possibly even missed it—if it hadn’t been a familiar voice saying it. He turns to spot Stiles stepping up next to him, balancing five packages of pop tarts and lots of plain yogurt. Derek has half a mind telling him that he’s literally a sight for sore eyes but his sisters have a habit of eavesdropping just to tease him later.

“Hellmouth thing”, Derek repeats dumbly. Of course his brain gets stuck on this. “You mean Charybdis.”

Stiles purses his lips and grins at him. Derek can feel heat rising into his cheeks. He can practically hear Laura calling him a nerd.

“You knew that, didn’t you?” he asks.

Stiles blinks at him, grin turning into a sheepish smile. He scuffs his foot against the floor. “Yeah. Thought I’d tone down the nerd to, you know, not be such a nerd.” He shrugs.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd,” Derek finds himself saying, oddly charmed and half indignant.

“It’s not as long as you talk to people who get your references,” Stiles says, his grin returning. “I should’ve known with you, though, what with the Batman underwear.”

Derek’s mind goes blank for a second and he casts a hasty glance down himself to make sure he didn’t forget to put on pants in his state of mind. He looks back up when he hears Stiles laughing. Stiles almost drops his stuff he laughs so hard, and Derek snorts watching him struggle to balance it.

“I was actually talking about the other day,” Stiles clarifies, and Derek thinks he’s seeing a touch of red creeping into Stiles’ cheeks.

And yeah. Of course Derek’s worst nightmare would come to haunt him again. His horror seems to show on his face, because Stiles says, “Hey, I’m not judging. I have the exact same pair.”

“Really?” Derek’s brain whites out for a second trying to compute the image of Stiles in a pair of Batman boxers. “I’d love to see them.”

It’s out faster than he can even process it, his filter apparently completely disabled, and Stiles looks at him with a stunned expression on his face.

“I mean, no, I know what they look like, obviously. If it’s the same pair. What I meant is—is I’d love to see you in them—”

He might as well just pretend to faint to get out of this situation. He entirely blames Laura for this, because he clearly is in no state of mind to be communicating with any form of living being, least of all Stiles, who seemingly has the ability to momentarily disarm Derek’s filter by just being there.

The thing is, Derek has game. He does, he knows this. Being tired doesn’t affect it. He dazzles people when he emerges out of his room looking like he’s been lost in the woods for ten days (Erica’s words), yet, when Stiles is around, Derek’s filter goes offline and his language center takes over. It results in No Game. None whatsoever.

As it is, Stiles watches him with a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and incredible fondness on his face, biting his bottom lip. There’s a moment of—on Derek’s side—mortified silence before Stiles frees up a hand from the stuff he’s carrying. Derek watches enthralled and entirely speechless as Stiles reaches down and pulls the waistband of his boxers out from under his sweatpants, revealing the Batman logo.

Derek only manages to tear his eyes away when Stiles swears under his breath as his stack begins to sway dangerously in his grasp. The quiet smack of the waistband snapping back into place against Stiles’ skin as he lets go of it to stabilize his pile of groceries, creates a tantalizing echo in Derek’s head.

Before Derek can react in any way, Stiles leans forward. “By the way,” he says quietly into the narrow space between them. “Hey.”

Derek blinks at him, dazed and confused. He hears one of his sisters calling for him. “I gotta go,” is all he manages out, and wheels the cart into the direction the voice came from, unable to process what just happened.

He’s still trying to wrap his head around what happened at the store later that night when Laura tells him to put his shirt in the laundry.

“Seriously, Derek, have you seen it? It looks like a toddler’s shirt after lunch.”

He looks down his front, peels the shirt away from his chest (it does look like it could use a washing cycle) and picks at the stain on the Y from hey. His mind wanders back to Stiles, to him showing Derek his boxers.

Huh. Maybe Derek does have game when he’s around Stiles after all.

* * *

Derek checks his watch again, making sure it didn’t stop or he somehow got the time wrong. He said he’d be there in fifteen minutes, and now he’s been waiting for his sisters for ten already. They went out partying at someone’s house while Derek declined to go. He spent the entire day at home in his underwear, binge watching Netflix and eating junk food. Going out also would’ve meant to take a shower beforehand and he found that was too much effort.

As it is, he agreed to pick up his sisters who are nowhere to be seen despite the fact that Laura had received and read his message that he’d be there. He’s leaning against the side of the car, waiting outside the house. He considered going in and looking for them, but again: effort. Derek figures he’ll wait another fifteen minutes before he returns home, with or without his sisters.

He’s checking his phone for messages from either Laura or Cora when he hears a familiar voice hollering his name. Derek looks up to see Stiles tripping his way across the front lawn of the house in his direction, closely followed by Scott, who looks half amused and half worried. Stiles comes to stand in front of Derek, swaying considerably.

“Hey, Derek. Hey, hey, Derek, hey,” he says, cracks a huge grin. There’s confetti stuck in his hair, he has something on his cheek that looks like a temporary tattoo of a unicorn, and there’s winged eyeliner on one his right lid. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, Derek.”

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek answers with a smile of his own, and steadies Stiles, when he leans in and loses balance, as if the ground he’s standing on became unsteady. Stiles’s grin grows a little wider, and Derek feels incredibly warm despite the crisp air outside.

He casts a look over Stiles’ shoulder at Scott whose worried expression has disappeared. Stiles follows Derek’s gaze but whips around so fast he trips. Scott’s on him faster than Derek can even react, obviously trained in catching Stiles’ falls. Stiles smiles dopily up at his best friend, petting his biceps as Scott heaves him back up on his feet.

“Sorry,” Scott says. He doesn’t sound annoyed or exasperated, but incredibly fond. “He’s had a lot to drink.”

Derek smirks. “I didn’t notice.”

Scott grins at him while Stiles is continuously petting his arm, apparently entirely enraptured by it.

“You here to pick up your sisters?” Scott asks.

“Yeah,” Derek says, casting a quick glance at the watch on his phone. “They should know I’m here but they haven’t come out yet. You the designated driver for your group today?”

Stiles’ attention drifts from Scott’s biceps to his face and he starts gently poking at his cheek.

“I am,” Scott confirms, still holding on to Stiles who now looks as if he’s leaning his entire weight against his best friend. “We’re about to leave. I actually wanted to buckle Stiles in first before I got the others but then he saw you.”

“Sorry.”

Scott shrugs with a smile, adjusting his grip on Stiles. “Nah, it’s cool, man. Would you mind keeping an eye on him, though? I’ll go in and get the others, and your sisters.”

“Sure,” Derek says. “Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem,” Scott answers, grabbing Stiles by the sides and pushing him gently upright and into Derek’s direction. “I have to warn you, though, he’s really, really touchy-feely when he’s drunk.”

Stiles sighs deeply as he leans into Derek, his eyes fixed on Scott, though. “S’otty, you sooooo pretty,” he says dreamily and forms a heart with his hands. Derek bites his lip to keep from laughing.

“Case in point,” Scott says with a laugh. “Thanks, buddy. You’re very pretty, too.”

“Awwwwww.” Stiles sounds absolutely enamoured, looking like he’s out of his mind with delight. He reaches out and plants a smacking kiss on Scott’s cheek.

“Okay, you stay with Derek. I’ll be right back,” Scott says to Stiles. “Alright?”

Stiles’ eyes light up suddenly as he turns around to look at Derek. “Derek? Oooh, yes, I’ll stay with Derek.”

Scott gives them a thumbs up and then jogs across the lawn back to the house. Stiles slumps against him, and Derek wraps an arm around his waist to hold him steady. Derek finds he is unsurprised by how unbothered he is to have Stiles being all up in his space like that when usually, Derek’s not a fan of people occupying his personal bubble so much. Yet Stiles is a comfortable weight against his front, his arms snaking around Derek’s back.

Stiles snaps his head up suddenly, as if he’d fallen asleep for a couple of seconds and woke up with a start. He stares at Derek intently.

“What colour are your eyes?” he asks, grabbing Derek’s face with both his hands and draws closer until their noses are almost touching. Derek feels his heart speeding up, the heat of Stiles’ fingers seeping into his skin. He’s close enough to count Stiles’ eyelashes. The proximity makes his head spin with something he can’t quite pinpoint.

“Hazel,” he finally manages to answer. The intensity of Stiles’ stare has left his mouth dry.

Stiles shakes his head, squints a little. “No,” he says resolutely. “‘s not hazel. ‘s beautiful.”

“I don’t think beautiful is a colour, Stiles,” Derek points out.

Stiles seems confused for a moment. He frowns. “Pretty?”

“Not a colour, either.”

The frown deepens. And then suddenly he smiles bright. It’s as if the sun cracks through dark storm clouds, and Derek has to swallow, and blink a couple of times.

“Rainbow,” Stiles says, nodding, and boops Derek’s nose.

Derek finds himself smiling fondly. He can’t bring himself to point out that rainbow, technically, isn’t a colour either. Stiles seems to happy with his answer, and besides, a rainbow seems to have enough colours to encompass his needs. He starts petting Derek’s beard, eyes focusing on his hands as he does so.

“Your beard is so soft,” Stiles observes, voice sounding like he’s found something he’s never seen before. “Mmmmmhhh.”

Derek’s pretty sure he’s never been as charmed by a drunken person as he is now. But that might be because it’s Stiles, and he’s always charmed by Stiles. Apparently, even when he’s drunk off his ass and thinks pretty is a valid eye colour.

Derek spots his sisters coming towards them while Stiles continues to pet his beard. He sees their shit-eating smirks, and doesn’t even care because Stiles is still leaning against him, huffing little breaths against his face, his fingers leaving tingling sensations on his skin.

“Stiles ‘n’ Derek sittin’ ‘n a tree,” Laura crows, words slurring.

“Get in the car,” he tells them. They don’t even argue, just slide into the backseat and continue to caw once inside. It’s gonna be one hell of a ride home. Derek just hopes they’re drunk enough to have a blackout tomorrow, so he doesn’t have to go through this twice.

Scott comes over with Allison and Lydia in two. Both of them are giggling, eyes bright, and they’re holding on to each other. They’re in no better shape than Laura and Cora.

“Stiles,” Scott says gently, tapping Stiles on the shoulder. “Buddy.”

Stiles tears his eyes away from Derek’s face and looks over.

“We gotta go.”

“‘s so soft,” Stiles says with an irritated look on his face, turns back to Derek, and sighs contentedly.

Scott throws Derek an amused look. Allison coos, and slaps a hand over her mouth while Lydia’s biting her lip.

Derek carefully peels Stiles’ hands from his face, unwilling, but he also doesn’t want to make Scott and the other wait for too long. Stiles doesn’t seem to happy about not touching Derek anymore, but he doesn’t protest, just lets Derek guide his hands down.

He straightens, blinks a couple of times, and then he leans back into Derek. “Derek’s the prettiest, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Derek guesses he tried for a whisper but missed that by a mile. He raises his brows. “I’m the prettiest?” he asks, unable to keep the smile out of his voice, off his face; the warm, bubbly feeling away. He’s tingling all over, it’s ridiculous.

Stiles leans away with a confused look on his face. His eyes sweep over Derek. “Oh. Sorry.”

He turns away, wraps an arm around Scott’s shoulder, and says, “Derek’s the prettiest,” and Scott purses his lips to hide a grin. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

Scott pats Stiles’ hand, sends an amused grin Derek’s way, and promises, “I won’t, buddy. Let’s go.”

Stiles’s head lols back and he looks over at Derek, another bright smile appearing on his face. “Hey, Derek. Hey. Hey. Derek, hey.”

“Good night,” Derek says. He can’t stop the fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, helpless at the sight of Stiles’ beaming face. “Get home safe.”

* * *

Derek’s almost a little embarrassed that he spots Stiles the second he steps foot into the coffee shop. He’s sitting to the left, at one of the tables along the window front, sprawled in one of the cozy armchairs. His hair is a mess, but then again, that’s not new. Derek’s still not sure if that particular style is intentional or accidental. Either way, it makes Derek want to card his fingers through it, maybe pull a little… Derek stops that train of thought before it takes him somewhere he shouldn’t be in public.

Derek gets up to the counter to order and decides to get two drinks. Stiles looks like he’s waiting for someone; Derek might as well keep him company while he does.

Stiles’ gaze flicks up from his phone as soon as Derek places the cup in front of him on the table. A smile spreads across his face, warm and blinding, the early afternoon sun reflecting in his eyes; making them look luminous.

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says, squinting a little against the light. Derek swallows at the way his heart trips.

“Hi,” he says. His hands are suddenly sweating. “Recover well from last weekend?”

Stiles cheeks flush, and he bites his lip dropping his phone into his lap. He clears his throat, sitting up straight, and Derek can’t help the grin from showing. Apparently, Stiles remembers what happened, or he had been told by Scott. Either way, Derek revels in the pretty blush on Stiles’ face, even though it’s probably embarrassment.

“You waiting for someone?” Derek asks before Stiles can answer.

“Actually…”

Someone clears their throat next to Derek at the same time as Stiles starts speaking. Another cup of coffee gets placed in front of Stiles, and Derek looks at the man standing next to him, putting a second cup down.

“My dad,” Stiles finishes, gaze flicking between him and his father. “Derek, that’s my dad. Dad, Derek.”

Derek’s slide over to Stiles, and if his hands have been sweating before it’s nothing compared to now, and there’s a lump in his throat he can’t explain why it’s there. Stiles’ father is a sheriff, Derek remembers him talking about it when he explained why he’d gone into criminology.

As it is, the Sheriff is holding out his hand to Derek, and Derek takes it out of ingrained polite reflex, but he winces when he realizes how sweaty his hands are. Great, he thinks, that is exactly the first impression he’d wanna give.

“Sheriff,” Derek manages to out past the lump in his throat.

Stiles’ dad barks out a laugh sitting down opposite Stiles. “Please,” he says. “I’m here for personal reasons and not in official capacities. Mr. Stilinski is fine.”

Stiles snorts, holding one of the cups between both hands and staring at his father over the rim. “Since when are you ‘Mr. Stilinski’ to any of my friends?”

Derek watches them exchange looks. Stiles rolls his eyes in response to the glance his father sends his way, but doesn’t comment any further. However, there’s another blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Sit, Derek,” Mr. Stilinski says, gesturing to the free armchair.

“Actually, Dad,” Stiles begins as he sits up straight, a little coffee sloshing over the rim of the cup. “I think Derek’s busy.”

Mr. Stilinski raises a brow, looks from Stiles to Derek with an expectant expression on his face. “Are you, Derek?”

Except it doesn’t sound like much of a question. Derek can feel his flight response wanting to kick in, but something in Mr. Stilinski’s gaze fixes him firmly in place. Maybe he’s just too scared to run.

“I thought so,” Mr. Stilinski says when Derek doesn’t respond. He takes a sip from his cup, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sit,” he adds, setting his cup down.

Derek sits down so fast, it’s almost as if his legs gave out under him. He feels hot all over, and this time it’s not because Stiles is looking at him; it’s not the good kind of hot. It’s the terrified kind of hot, and Mr. Stilinski has this look on his face like he knows exactly how Derek’s feeling.

“So, Derek,” Mr. Stilinski starts. There’s a knock from beneath the table, disturbing the cups a little, and Stiles curses. The smirk on Stiles’ father’s face looks way too smug. “Your name’s occasionally come up,” he continues conversationally. Derek casts a glance at Stiles who’s incredibly red in the face, and is sliding deeper down the armchair. Meanwhile, Derek’s brain gets hung up on the fact that Stiles talks to his father about him.

“What is it that you do, again?”

Derek tries to clear his throat. “I’m in law school, sir.”

Mr. Stilinski nods, and Derek imagines he sees something like approval flashing over his face. “Ambitious.”

“I’d say it’s spite,” Derek says before he can process what he’s doing. Mr. Stilinski raises his brows in question. Derek sighs internally. He continues to make a stellar first impression. Stiles will probably never talk to him again. If only because his dad thinks he’s a total idiot and doesn’t want it to rub off on his son. “My older sister is also in law school here, and she’s been goading me since we were little. At this point it’s just us trying to outdo each other.”

Derek feels incredibly childish admitting this to Stiles’ father, his ears are burning, as is his face, and he tries to hide it by burying his face in his cup.

Mr. Stilinski laughs, though, kindly. Derek looks up in surprises, chances a quick glance at Stiles who’s hiding a fond smile behind his cup.

“Who’s on top of things right now?” Mr. Stilinski asks, uncontained amusement hiding in the crinkles of his eyes.

“Well,” Derek starts, adjusts his position on the armchair. “I feel like Laura’s always on top of things and at least one step ahead of me, but I would never say that to her face.”

Mr. Stilinski chuckles. “Stiles’ mother was very competitive, too,” he says, his eyes settling on Stiles, and there’s so much love and pride in them that Derek has to look away and leave this moment to them.

“So, Derek,” Mr. Stilinski starts again. “You any good in the kitchen?”

“Dad,” Stiles says which his father completely ignores. Derek glances between them. “You don’t have to answer that, Derek.”

“Why not?” Mr. Stilinski asks, not taking his eyes off Derek. “It’s just a question.”

Derek’s getting interrogated, he realizes, and suddenly he feels like everything he says is, somehow, the wrong thing to say.

“Um, I’m not much of a cook,” he says carefully. “But I bake.”

Mr. Stilinski claps his hands like he’s just won something. “Perfect.”

This shouldn’t feel like Derek’s achieved some sort of victory, but it does, and Derek is ridiculously relieved. Stiles rolls his eyes hard, takes a sip from his cup and mumbles something Derek doesn’t catch.

Two hands clamp down on his shoulders from behind. “Here you are,” Laura says. Derek takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. This can’t be good. “I was wondering what happened to you.”

There’s so much glee in her voice, Derek already knows she’s not going to let him live this down.

“Hi, I’m Laura,” she says, sticking a hand out to Stiles’ father. “Derek’s sister.”

Mr. Stilinski takes her hand, smirking. “Noah,” he answers. “Stiles’ father.”

Stiles groans. Out of the corner of his eyes, Derek can see that he’s leaning back in his armchair and covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” Laura says, delight colouring her voice. “You’re a sheriff, right? Stiles mentioned it a couple of times. Said that’s why he’s studying criminology.”

Derek sees Mr. Stilinski raise his brows and look at Stiles. There’s some sort of silent communication happening between them that Derek can’t read, but Stiles looks as if he’s daring his father to say something.

“You know Stiles, too?” he asks curiously.

Laura waves it off. “He asked me if I could help him with one of his classes that I’d taken before, too. But then something came up on short notice, and I sent Derek instead.” She ruffles his hair. “He’s a much better teacher than I am, anyway.”

As much shit as Laura gives him, she’s never shy of complimenting him and praising him in front of others, too. He relaxes a bit, leans into her side, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders. Mr. Stilinski is looking at him intently, and Derek practically wills himself not to flush under his scrutiny.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” Laura says and smacks her forehead. “I’ve actually just wanted to see where my baby bro disappeared to. He was supposed to get coffee for us.”

No will power in the world would’ve saved Derek from this one. He’s pretty sure his flush could power the coffee shop alone. Stiles has the same scrutinizing look on his face as his father, and Derek can very clearly see the family resemblance. That facial expression in particular is uncanny.

“Derek always gets sidetracked by Stiles,” Laura adds with mirth in her voice. It’s not unkind, though, she’s not trying to make fun of or humiliate him. Mr. Stilinski is grinning fondly, and Stiles’ blush, Derek thinks as he looks at him, matches his own.

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Mr. Stilinski says. “You’re welcome to stay.”

Somehow, that sounds dangerous.

“Dad, I’m sure Laura and Derek had better plans for today than to sit here with us and listen to your boring stories,” Stiles says suddenly. “Besides, I thought you were here to spend time with me?” It sounds almost petulant.

Laura laughs. “We’re gonna leave you to it. It was very nice meeting you, Noah.”

Stiles’ dad gets up as Laura stands. “Likewise,” he says, shaking her hand again. “You, too, Derek,” he says, again looking at Derek with a stripping sort of scrutiny that has Derek wanting to run for the hills.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Derek croaks out, shaking his hand. It’s sweaty again. Or possibly still.

As they’re leaving the shop, Laura asks, “On a scale from one to Death Would Be Merciful, how embarrassed are you that you met your crush’s dad while wearing your say hey if you’re gay shirt?”

Derek exhales closing his eyes. He’d rather not think about that. Laura lets out a quiet, sympathetic laugh and pats his shoulder.

* * *

Someone bumps into Derek while he’s standing in the cafeteria, contemplating which of the unhealthy options he’s gonna go with today. He’s about to give the person a piece of his mind when he realizes it’s Stiles. A very hassled looking Stiles whose entire face transforms into pure happiness as he looks at Derek.

“Hey.”

Derek smiles, unable to stop himself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says. He’s going for pizza and whips around to eye the deserts across the room. “Your magnetic pull was too strong to resist,” he adds turning around, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek feels his face heat. He ducks his head, grabs the first meal he can get his hands on and continues down. Stiles follows him, tongue sticking out between his teeth. He looks way too fond, and Derek’s hands are growing sweaty again. He should have that checked out, it can’t be normal.

“Wait for me,” Stiles instructs and dashes away to the desert aisle. Derek is just sort of to dumbstruck to do anything but as Stiles said. He watches Stiles flit around, collecting his food—which is quite a lot—and just waits. There’s apparently a smile on his which Derek only realizes because there’s a guy in his line of sight that smiles back at him, probably thinking Derek’s paying him any attention. Derek scowls at him, and the guy’s face falls.

Stiles comes bounding back to him. “I’m good to go,” he informs Derek and wiggles his tray for good measure.

“How are you not a diabetic?” Derek wonders as their looking for place, eyeballing all the processed sugar on Stiles’ tray.

“Scott continues to drag me to lacrosse practice,” Stiles simpers, shrugging, and slides onto a chair. “Not that I need it. I got great metabolism.”

Derek eyes him doubtfully. He shakes his head, huffing out a laugh. “So, how’d the day with your dad go after you chased Laura and me off?”

Stiles is already chewing a bite from some candy bar, as he narrows his eyes at Derek, pausing mid-chew. “What do you mean, ‘chased off’? Trust me, I was doing you a favour. He would’ve just kept on going interrogating you.”

Derek frowns, and Stiles nods. “Uh huh. Trust me. He would’ve made you give up your deepest, darkest secrets. I’ve seen it happen.”

Derek scoffs. “And which deep, dark secret did you give up?”

“Please,” Stiles says with a raised brow. “I’m immune. I build up immunity over the years, carefully cultivated it, and now it just bounces right off.”

“What did he ask you?”

“Whether I’m sleeping with both you and Laura.”

Derek chokes on his fry. “What’d you say?” he manages out between heaving coughs.

Stiles smirks. “I said I aim high,” he replies, and the wink he sends Derek’s way can only be described as indecent.

Derek’s pretty sure he’s on the brink of death.

Stiles lets out a delighted laugh. “Chill, dude. I’m obviously kidding.” He rolls his eyes, takes a bite from his pizza.

“By the way,” Stiles says a minute later, strictly staring at the label of another candy bar. “We never settled what colour your eyes are.”

Derek raises his brows. Stiles remembers. “I recall you decided on ‘rainbow’.”

Stiles flushes. It’s delicious.

“Rainbow’s not a colour,” he points out.

“You seemed pretty convinced. I didn’t wanna argue.”

Stiles is silent for a beat. “Well, I mean, technically I’m not wrong.”

Derek can’t help the snort.

“What? Somewhere in there I’m pretty sure is also the colour of your eyes,” Stiles huffs, staring at Derek with narrowed eyes. “Which are ridiculous, by the way, to state for the record. Nobody has eyes like that.”

“Obviously, I do.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, again, but it’s fond, almost bashful. Which is a paradox in itself. “Well, pretty much all of you is ridiculous, so.”

“We can’t all be so perfectly put together like you are,” Derek says around a bite, and smirks when Stiles throws him a look.

“Ha ha.”

Derek’s smirk grows a little. “You have ridiculous eyes, too.”

Stiles stills and stares at him for a moment. The colour is back in his cheeks, he opens his mouth and closes it, repeats the process a couple of times, until he finally huffs. “They’re brown.”

Derek shrugs. “Mine are hazel.”

“They’re magical,” Stiles mutters, biting heartily into his bar.

“What?”

“What?”

Derek looks at him, at his big Bambi eyes and the innocent expression on his face, and wonders, not for the first time, if his mind is making stuff up. Stiles blinks and Derek shifts, casting his eyes down. He thinks about asking him out, or about just ravishing him on the spot—Derek’s not that picky in that regard—but he never does. He knows he wouldn’t handle it well if Stiles said no. Stiles’s flirty with everyone, he has this way of smirking and winking and just generally wrapping people around his little finger with such ease that has Derek’s head spinning.

He flirts with Derek. Derek’s not that obtuse not to realize that but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. So, Derek just keeps not pushing, keeps not asking, keeps not ravishing. He’ll live. He gets to be around Stiles. It’s fine.

* * *

Derek wakes with a start, jerks upright and immediately regrets it. The world is spinning fast, his stomach lurches dangerously, and there’s a stale taste on his tongue that tells him he’s had too much tequila last night. He groans as he flops back down and takes a couple of deep breaths to get his stomach under control. It takes a moment for him to not feel like he’s gonna projectile vomit all over the bed, and by the time his gut calms, he realizes he’s not in his bed.

He sits back up, stomach rioting again, and looks around. It’s a tiny, crammed bedroom he doesn’t recognize. There are piles of books on the desk, loose sheets upon loose sheets haphazardly spread over a laptop that’s quietly whirring; clothes strewn around, empty cans of energy drinks, and there’s a sad plant that looks like it’s a hairwidth away from death on the window sill.

It smells—

Derek squeezes his eyes shut und presses the balls of his hands into his eye sockets. He prays to every deity he can think of that he’s not where he thinks he is.

Except, if there’s some sort of higher power guiding his way, it’s laughing in his face and probably enjoying his misery way too much.

Derek slowly gets out of bed. He can hear faint cluttering outside the door. When he looks down at himself, he’s wearing his boxers and a shirt. His pants, he discovers, are the only thing that are neatly folded on the desk chair. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand—it really is water, he tries—and Derek’s heart is doing its damndest to beat out of his chest.

He puts on his pants before he pads outside.

Stiles puttering around the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and a ratty shirt that is so worn out it’s almost see-through. He’s humming to some song he’s listening to over his earplugs, flipping a pancake. It’s so domestic, and Derek’s so close to popping a boner over it, it’s almost kind of embarrassing.

He clears his throat, and Stiles looks over his shoulder. As soon as he spots Derek, a blinding smile stretches across his face. He pulls the plugs out of his ears, waving Derek closer.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Sit. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

Derek sits on one of the chairs Stiles points to, too dumbstruck to do anything else. He watches Stiles prepare the pancakes and idly wonders how the hell he got here.

He can’t remember. Laura, Cora and Erica convinced him to go out last night, some frat party; one of those that’s a little too loud, a little too crowded, a little too wild, and a little too loose. Something must’ve happened for him to wake up in Stiles’ bed, and god, Derek hopes they didn’t have sex. Because if they had, he doesn’t know anymore, and he doesn’t want to live in a world in which he did have sex with Stiles but can’t remember it. That, and of course the fact that it most likely would’ve meant that Stiles took advantage of him, which Derek can’t really believe but—

“Dude,” Stiles says, looking at him with huge eyes.

Derek blinks. He said all that out loud. Someone mercy kill him. Now. Derek squeezes his eyes shut again.

“Derek, hey,” Stiles tries. “Relax. Nothing happened. You were pretty out of it.”

“No kidding,” Derek replies. He takes a deep breath and looks up at Stiles, who is now smirking at him. It’s not a good sign.

“You were pretending to be an octopus. I mean, literally. You wrapped yourself around me and you wouldn’t let go, and basically, that’s how you ended up here. I swear, man, dragging you here was an exercise all on its own.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe if he concentrates hard enough he can teleport himself to a lonely island, never to be seen again.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says miserably. Of all the ways he pictured he would hold on to Stiles, this wasn’t it. And—he just rambled about having sex with him. Derek drops his head into his hands, feeling like he’d shot right past rock bottom and into a pitch black bottomless pit that plays the best-of compilation of the worst moments in his life, on repeat, forever.

Stiles places a plate in front of him, by the sound of it, and then there’s a hand in Derek’s hair, fingers slowly dragging over his scalp.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” Stiles says, his tone gentle and fond. Derek looks back up at him to find Stiles smiling warmly at him, with a sort of admiration that has Derek’s heart beating faster.

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Derek says. He stares up at Stiles with wide eyes. Part of him can’t quite believe Stiles’ fingers are still in his hair, softly carding through it.

“You didn’t,” Stiles answers. He quirks an eyebrow, looking quizzical. “Why would you think that?”

“Because we’re—I mean, we don’t—and you…”

“Are you having a stroke?” Stiles asks. He momentarily pauses his hand, frowning down at Derek. “Smile. I need to see.”

Derek can’t help the eye roll. “Don’t be ridiculous. I talked about having sex with you when—look, I didn’t mean to say that I’m, like, fantasizing or anything. It’s not—I’m not—we’re not—”

“Are you going through declinations now?” Stiles is smirking again.

Derek scowls at him, feels heat rising into his cheeks. This is so not how this is supposed to go. This is not how he pictured waking up having Stiles around.

“Derek,” Stiles says. He sighs, turns off the stove, and proceeds to pull the other chair closer, so he can sit next to Derek. “You never made me feel uncomfortable, okay? Never. And once we’ve eaten and you’ve sobered up, we can have all the sex. I mean it. All of it.”

Derek stares at him, dumbfounded. His brain is tried to process what’s happening until Stiles said they could have sex. Now, it’s like his entire world came to a screeching halt, and he feels a little like someone is shaking a Magic 8 Ball, except it’s his head, and nothing makes sense.

Stiles grabs his hand, twining their fingers together, and Derek looks down. He watches with rapt attention how Stiles’ thumb sweeps over the skin of his knuckles.

When Derek doesn’t say anything, Stiles clears his throat. Derek glances up, spots the worried expression on his beautiful face.

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out there,” Stiles says, huffing out a nervous little laugh. “Maybe I read this wrong. See, I thought I was imagining you being into me until last night.”

“What.”

Stiles is biting his lip, and lets go of Derek’s hand, self-conscious now. Derek grabs it, though, before he can pull back entirely, squeezing gently.

“Well, I mean, you know. I flirted, and I’m pretty sure you flirted back, but nothing ever came of it, so I thought you’re just—” Stiles shrugs, scuffing his foot against the floor. “And then last night, you were all over me. You know, when I dragged you home, you were serenading me all the way over here. I figured, drunks and children tell the truth, so… I mean, I understand if it’s not what you want.”

“I serenaded you?” Derek’s voice feels—and sounds—hoarse and squeaky at the same time.

Stiles smirks again, but it’s fond. “Yeah.”

Derek’s silent for a beat. “Wait, you—you were into me?”

“Still am,” Stiles says, ducking his head.

Derek blinks. His head is spinning again, but this time it’s not the alcohol. “You mean—why didn’t you say anything?”

Stiles snorts. “Please. I’ve been hey-ing you since forever. You just never did anything about it. How was I supposed to know?”

“Hey-ing?” Derek scowls at him.

Stiles sighs, exasperated, but still fond. He affectionately flicks Derek’s chest. Derek looks down, stares at the shirt he’s wearing and—oh.

“Oh. But this is just—this doesn’t mean that you’re—”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He lets go of Derek’s hand, grabs his face with both of his, and fixes at him with the softest look in his eyes. “It meant, Derek, please use your dumb rainbow eyes and fucking see that hugeass crush I have on you.”

Derek can’t help the smile from pulling at his mouth. “Noted.”

Stiles kisses him, slowly, sweetly, and it’s such a rush to the head, Derek has to close his eyes for a moment after. He turns his head a little, kisses the inside of Stiles’ hand, unable to stop himself from smiling all the way through.

“Derek?”

“Hm?”

“Hey.”

Derek smiles, heart lurching. “Hey.”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Eighty-Five: An Artist ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

He’s never been one much for the arts. That’s always been more his brother’s calling, despite their father’s begrudging acceptance. While Itachi pursued music, Sasuke took to filling Fugaku’s expectations and going to school to major in business.

Granted, Itachi’s doing quite well - arguably better than his younger brother. Lessons from age four, of course, give him a little edge. Add in natural dexterity and talent, and he’s already playing in recital halls packed to the brim to hear him play his melancholy notes.

But Sasuke can’t bring himself to be jealous. Sure, he’s still hanging from a rather low rung of the corporate ladder, but it’s stuff he finds fairly mindless and easy. While many hate their jobs, Sasuke simply...does his, neither actively enjoying or disliking it. It’s just something he does for about eight hours a day, five days a week. So far he’s managing a rather frugal lifestyle just fine.

Granted, it’s also a rather lonesome lifestyle. Sasuke’s not much of a socializer to begin with, but occasionally a friend will drag him out for something. But mostly, he enjoys doing things either with his family, or on his own.

Today is one of the latter days.

Just down the street from his apartment is a niche little coffee shop he frequents. Itachi teases him about how hipster it seems, but Sasuke just brushes the comments aside. He doesn’t much care what it’s like besides being quiet, quaint, and hosting (in his opinion) perfectly brewed black coffee.

Which is why he’s currently seated at his favorite corner table, sipping a cup and going over a presentation he needs to deliver next week. It’s already finished, but it’s an excuse to get out of his living quarters and get some liquid energy. While he can’t practice the auditory part here, he can tinker a few details and...mostly spend the afternoon browsing his favorite sites.

...that is...until he feels eyes on him.

His own flicker up, the only part of him moving as they search for the intruder. But every other face is turned away - either browsing their own laptops or phones, reading, talking to a table mate, or...scribbling on a rather large pad of paper.

Dark eyes squint just a hair, watching.

It’s a young woman - about his age, maybe a little younger...her face is rather soft, so it’s hard to tell. Seated in a booth along the opposite wall, she has her knees brought up to rest against the lip of her table, and a sizeable sketchbook is propped atop them. He can tell she’s not writing - her hand flies across the paper far too much to be anything but drawing.

Huh...he has to wonder what she’s sketching. Not that he knows much about it, but surely the setting is quite nice. A still life, maybe - seems like something rather eye-catching to draw. Or so he’ll guess. Itachi would have far more idea about than he. His talents might lie in music, but he knows the artistic side of things in general better than Sasuke ever will.

After a minute or so, he goes back to his laptop screen, sipping his coffee and absorbing back into the work.

When he starts packing up to head home, she’s already gone.

The work week passes, and it’s not until the following Saturday he can make it back. Unlike his last visit, it’s pouring rain this time. A wet umbrella rests against his chair. The same project - to be presented Monday - is back on his laptop screen...but mostly just as an excuse. He told Naruto he couldn’t go to some local league basketball game he’s playing in due to work.

It’s...half true. He hasn’t given the presentation yet. It’s still a work in progress. But he also hasn’t touched it in three days because the powerpoint part is done. While he could be home rehearsing it...Naruto has a nasty habit of dropping in even when told no. Hence hiding out here.

Besides, he’s got it memorized already. He’s not missing much by loligagging here.

The shop’s a bit more crowded today - probably because warm drinks are the perfect staple for a cool, rainy Spring day. And who wants to be out in the weather? Better to just...cozy up here until the rain stops.

The numbers don’t bother him - he got here early enough to claim his table, and no one’s dared ask to steal a chair or join him. Whether he intends it or not (though usually he does), Sasuke has a rather distance-inducing aura. Or at least, that’s how his brother oh so politely puts it.

Sasuke, on the other hand, knows he just has a major case of resting bitch face. And he’s more than glad for the annoyances it spares him...at least, with anyone intelligent enough to read it. Hence why Naruto still hangs around...he just doesn’t quite get it.

Today he’s indulging in a bitter cup of sugarless hot cocoa when that same feeling returns: like someone’s watching him. Looking up, he still doesn’t catch anyone staring.

...but he does notice she’s back. Sketchbook lady. Returned to the same spot, shying a bit from her neighbors but still scribbling away. This time it’s not just a pencil - some colored...somethings sit in a neat tray atop her table. Not pencils, and...he doesn’t think they’re crayons? Oh, who cares what they are. Either way, she must be coloring her previous shot, given her same vantage point and what looks to be the same sketchbook.

Huh.

A bit more curious this time, Sasuke takes to watching her. Every so often, she looks up and studies the wall behind him: the one directly across from her. Shrewd, pale eyes squint as she examines it before going back to her coloring.

...he sort of wants to see it.

Sasuke also can’t help but wonder how she’s accounting for the change of people. There’s more of them, and they’re surely different than last weekend. Did she just...go over what she had? Or is she improvising? He’s never really given such things a thought before, but...watching someone in the act of creating, admittedly, piques his interest.

But after a little while, it gets a bit repetitive...and he can’t exactly see what she’s doing. A little disappointed, Sasuke goes back to his procrastinating, eventually noting that the rain has stopped. Should he risk going back home…?

Maybe not yet.

He stays a few hours more, ordering another cup and an everything bagel to pass the time. Not the best lunch he could have, but...meh. He can have something better for him for dinner. Only once he gets a text from the knucklehead proclaiming victory (and whining he didn’t show up) does Sasuke deem it safe to head home.

The next morning, he wakes to his phone vibrating against his nightstand. Groggily he grabs it, swiping to answer and mumbling, “Hullo?”

“Sasuke, good morning.”

He blinks slowly. “...’tachi?”

“Forgive me for calling so early, but I wanted you to be the first to know: I’m going to be back in town for the week. I’ll be flying in this afternoon.”

Dark eyes quickly brighten, sitting up. “Really?”

“Yes. I was going to tell Mother and Father tomorrow morning - I thought, for today, it could just be the two of us.”

A kind of childish glee at both the falsehood (his brother never lies) and his indulging of Sasuke’s constant pining to see him beget a smile. “Yeah, sure - got anything in mind?”

“Oh, I thought we’d just wander around downtown and see what jumps out at us. I haven’t been back in almost a year, I want to see what’s changed.”

“Okay, yeah - sure.”

“I’ll meet you at your building - I’ve got a rental car arranged. I should be there about three?”

“I’ll be waiting!”

Hanging up, Sasuke can’t help but grin at his brother’s number before it fades back to the homescreen. Well...talk about a great start to a week!

By the time Itachi makes it, he’s been bored for hours, having little else to do on a Sunday but wait around. They immediately leave again, going on foot to simply explore.

“I’ve missed this city,” Itachi admits wistfully, hands in his coat’s pockets and simply looking around.

“And we’ve missed you - how’re all your gigs going?”

“Wonderfully. I’ve been planning a little tour with another artist: a vocalist who’s been practicing with me the past few weeks.”

“Any stops near here?”

“In here, as a matter of fact - but not for a few months. We’ve got quite a bit of practice and arranging to do. But I will let you know.” Slowing to a stop, Itachi cocks his head curiously at an open door. “...Sasuke, care to go in?”

“Huh? What is it?”

“Apparently an art exhibition - locals, seems like.”

It might not be his scene, but...well, Itachi’s the guest, and it’ll make him happy. “Yeah, sure.”

The pair enter, quickly seeing a variety of works and mediums by a vast array of artists. While Itachi speaks to the host, Sasuke starts wandering, not as invested as he’s sure Itachi will be. Thumbs hooked in his belt loops, he glances over several pieces before coming to a standstill.

Wait...but that’s…?

Still staring as Itachi joins him, Sasuke barely hears his question. “...huh?”

“I asked if you found something you like…? Oh...well that looks an awful lot like -”

“It’s me.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yeah, I…” A bit flabbergasted, Sasuke shifts his weight, gesturing. “I go there all the time. That’s my table, and my laptop -” His umbrella even made it in the shot. There’s no doubt about it: even the angle matches. This has to be that woman, from before! She was drawing...him…?

“Can I help -? Oh!”

Both brothers turn to an approaching figure, and Sasuke locks surprised eyes with none other than the artist. Her own are wide, and color lightly tints her cheeks.

“It...it’s you!”

“Yeah...me,” Sasuke replies. Now it makes sense: why he kept feeling watched.

“I...I-I hope you don’t mind me using you as a model, I...I mostly do street drawing. I just...draw what I see. I was lucky to catch you twice, and so quickly! I just finished this piece this morning, I almost couldn’t bring it…” A hand tucks stray hair behind her ear. “...I’m Hinata.”

“Sasuke. Nice to actually meet you, I guess.”

“L-likewise!”

Behind him, Itachi gives a knowing smile. “May I ask, are your works for sale?”

“Oh, well...no, technically not.”

“Ah...forgive me.”

“No no, that’s okay! Would you...like to buy it…?”

“It’s rare to see my brother captured in such a way,” Itachi muses, earning an embarrassed glower from Sasuke. “You truly did a fantastic job. Of course, if you’d like to keep it -”

“No, I understand! I’m just delighted you f-found it! This city’s rather big, after all…”

“As am I. And I’m always a fan of supporting local creators. So, may we negotiate…?”

As the talk turns to money, Sasuke scowls and sulks off to one side, eyeing her other works. True to her word, most are just...captures of various local places and people. Though stylized to a point, he can still recognize quite a few places just at a glance, and further looking shows a great amount of detail.

Signing a check, Itachi hands it over with a smile. “A pleasure, miss Hyūga. I do hope you keep creating - your works are lovely.”

She ducks her head shyly, and then glances to the slip, eyes going wide. “...but you said -?”

“Please, consider it a well-deserved tip. I know enough artists to know they often undersell themselves. And yours is a talent worth supporting.”

Looking awed, Hinata breaks into a soft smile. “I’ll...go see about packaging this for you. Thank you s-so much.”

Itachi nods, turning as his brother steps back up. “Are you truly so opposed to the piece?”

“No...I’m not. It’s just kinda weird.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Just is.”

“Well, it’s clear your territories overlap - perhaps she’ll be able to draw you again, hm?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that.

Returning with the framed artwork carefully wrapped and bagged, Hinata hands it over with another thank you. “Um...s-sorry again for stealing your visage.”

“Don’t worry about it. I guess now I get to see what you were working so hard on.”

Another light blush pinkens her cheeks. “I’ve wanted to do a portrait in there for ages...you just had the right...look, I guess.”

That earns a small snort. “Suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Miss Hyūga, might I have your cell number in case I find any other potential investors in you and your work?”

“Oh! Um...sure!”

“Sasuke, you should do the same.”

“What?”

His brother gives him a look that clearly says not to question him. “It’s never a bad idea to stay connected. Besides, given I’ve taken her only copy, Hinata might want to arrange another portrait.”

Squinting suspiciously, Sasuke nonetheless agrees, exchanging digits.

“Thank you so much, miss Hyūga.”

“Oh, please just call me Hinata.”

“Very well - I hope you enjoy your evening.”

Once the brothers take their leave, Sasuke rounds on Itachi. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“All of that!”

“What, I can’t buy art of you?”

“No, that’s - you were - and the number -”

“It’s clear she finds you intriguing,” Itachi replies briskly. “And not just in a superficial way. She could have captured anyone in that shop, but she chose you. Hinata saw something that caught her eye about you that no one else had managed. I just thought keeping a person with that impression of you close might be...wise.”

“...you’re setting me up.”

“Connections, Sasuke - they’re important.” Itachi gives him a smile, eyes twinkling. “Don’t they teach you that in your line of work?”

Having no retort, Sasuke just stuffs his hands in his pockets. “...c’mon, we’ve still got daylight to burn.”

“If you insist.”

     Oof, this is...very very long compared to most entries, and now it's super late, I gotta get hopping to bed xD      I got the idea not long after reading the prompt, and honestly thought it wouldn't be long enough...and then it ended up twice as long as most drabbles I've done for this challenge! But it was a cute concept, even when I realized it was gonna sop up the rest of my evening, haha!      Anyway, I'm wiped, so I better call it. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

[voidwerks]

Ask List

For @absolutelynoterica

#3 rant. just do it

‘Cause you know where we are: that this town is as large as it is (by the standards of the entire rest of the country) but is 95% houses, fast food and copy-cat restaurants, and alcohol for days agitates me to no end. There’s one functioning mall, 3 movie theaters in a city of 300k+, and very little in terms of shopping besides routine big-brand stores. The govt wants people to come here to visit, to have tourism? You need to have things people want to see in the first place! Art museum, aquarium, warship, not a bad start right? They still need attention given to them to make sure people not only visit but have a reason to return. The town’s ‘illustrious’ shore road? Chock full of potholes and houses that look as old as their owners. Downtown? While they’re doing some work now, they’ve still got a lot of work ahead of them to make it a real destination. And half the time when someone actually wants to come to town (i.e. the water park), they end up going elsewhere. Why? A, the city wants too much money or some sort of deal on the project, B, the city gives too little and the project can’t afford to go forward, and/or C, the city tells them to piss off because old voters don’t want things to change. 

Change costs money. Change takes action. And yes, change also sometimes means getting rid of the old. But it seems like too many people in power here are content with the stagnation. And maybe it’s my northeastern upbringing, but it bothers the hell out of me that I can drive 30m in almost any direction in town and not run into anything new or exciting.

#4 do you think it’s ok to separate the artist from the art?

Yes. Similar to literature, though an artist’s experiences, politics, mentality, lifestyle, and more may influence the creation and intention behind a piece of art, I believe that art, film, books, etc, more often than not exist independent from their creator from that point forth. People create their own meaning when they interact with media, and over time something can be radically different than what the artist originally intended. In addition, no one lives forever, and after an author literally dies their work often has to speak for itself anyway. 

And this can be a double edged sword, no doubt. On the one hand, you’ve got artists who’s creations were effectively taken and twisted far beyond their original intention (i.e. Pepe the Frog), and struggle to return it to what it was meant to be. On the other hand, you can also have creators like JK Rowling who has largely been left to rot by the Harry Potter community because of how radically different the people’s interpretation of the series and world(s) they’ve made are compared to what Rowling says now. 

I guess in a way art is like having kids. While it’s nice if they’re able to not only support you but carry on your legacy after you’re gone, often times they go to forge their own path, and they can’t be blamed for it. 

#14 what’s your coffee order?

Probably a mocha or shop equivalent with a decent amount of cream. I’m not big on coffee at all. Then again, I probably haven’t had any actually good coffee before either. 

#15 what’s a question do you constantly get asked?

Not so much now that I’m out of school, but my last name. I’ve been dealing with people having no idea how to pronounce it or wondering where it comes from as long as I can remember. And to answer those two questions: it’s entirely phonetic if you spend a sec to break it down, and it’s Basque, a rather unique culture that has lived in the corner of NE Spain/SW France than either country has been around for. 

#23 if you could break one of your bad habits which would you choose?

Procrastination, hands down. There are just certain things that I have some sort of aversion to, even if I know that they’re Not Bad and Actually Productive. 

#27 how long before a trip do you pack?

Usually a day or the night before. I don’t like feeling like I’m primed to launch for extended periods of time, because anxiety. I’ve also traveled/moved enough times that I’m usually pretty good at making sure I have whatever I may need for the duration of a journey.

#29 what quote or inspirational setting do you think is bs?

Any quote or idea along the lines of “you make your own happiness/success”. The world is hard. The world is cruel. The world isn’t fair. You can try and be as happy or successful as you like, and however much we may want it, that is often not enough against the weight of the world and the actions of others. While wallowing in one’s own muck doesn’t get you anywhere, neither does beating one’s head against a wall, or trying to do everything alone. Know when to rest. Know when to ask for help, even if it’s hard. Know when to take a step back and re-evaluate things. Know that you’re doing what you can.

#33 what do you think about a lot? 

Too much tbqh, and that’s even without anxiety thoughts. What I could be doing wrong with my job hunt, or could do better on. How my ex is doing, since I worry about her well-being. What’ll I be up to in a few years? Am I forgetting something? Should I spend some time painting, or finding new music, or trying a game I’ve never played? It just goes and goes and goes. 

[vampiricalthorns]

Piercings and Pastels pt 2

Yo, so it’s finally here! Just ... 17 months too late. This is a continuation of Piercings and Pastels one-shot that I posted ages ago. There will maybe be a part 3 to this if I can be bothered to write it. I really do spend a lot of time on creating content, and even though I don’t post original stuff as often as I probably should... anyway, there’s a link to my ko-fi in my blog description if you want to support my content.

“And therefore, the sum of this equation will be …”

Will sighed, looking down at the notes he had so nicely drawn in red and black. Math class had never been of his favourites, but he was well aware that it was a subject he wanted to be good at. He did care a lot about school, even if he happened to be punk as fuck and wasn’t hesitant to have slightly questionable style choices. Will knew that his sister Kayla wanted him to have the best shot at life possible, and that was why she kept criticising his clothing.

“Mr Solace, are you paying attention?”

Will looked up sheepishly. “What?”

“I asked you if you could be so nice to tell us the answer on the blackboard.” The teacher was glaring down on him, and Will could have a fair guess that he was not too happy with Will’s inattention.

Will looked at him, and then to the board. Realising he had not solved the equation, he caught Nico’s look and peeked into his notebook for the answer. “X is 8, and Y is 4.5.”

The teacher looked at him for a minute before nodding. “That’s correct Mr Solace, but please refrain from spacing out in my classes in the future.”

Will ruffled his hair and looked up at the big Starbucks symbol hanging over the entrance door. He took a deep breath and walked inside, being ambushed by the warm, coffee-scented air as opposed to the slightly chillier outside weather that did not smell like coffee. He had agreed earlier that week to meet Nico at the Starbucks so that they could work through their ridiculous amounts of math homework. Will was taking a fair guess that their teacher was not terribly happy with how inattentive his class actually was to his teaching.

“Hi, Will! Over here!” Will heard someone call from further inside the store. He looked around for the black mop of wavy hair that belonged to his now best friend. Today, Nico was dressed in pastel galaxy leggings, the same brown boots as he had worn the last couple weeks and an oversized pink knit sweater.

He slung himself into the chair opposite Nico. “What’s up?”

Nico smiled- the type of smile where he closed his eyes and held his hands up to his chest as if he was about to flap them. Will thought that was oddly cute. “Not much. Work’s drowning us as usual, but at least that’s an excuse to be productive.”

Will nodded. “Should I go get something to drink while you figure out exactly what we should do today and what we can wait with for later in the week?”

Having Nico’s nod of approval, Will put his bag down and got up. Placing himself at the back of the line, he looked over at where Nico was reading in his planner while pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. The purple hair clips didn’t look like they were there for anything than decoration. Cute.

He had only known Nico for a little under two weeks now, but it felt like they had been friends for way longer than that. He was like a missing childhood friend Will had only just met again, but he knew that was impossible. Will let a small smile slip as he looked up at the menu for what to get. Nico seemed like a hot chocolate person. Or maybe a Frappuccino.

“One Coffee Mocha and one Hot Chocolate please,” he told the barista, who nodded and then told him the sum of what he had to pay. After paying, he stepped to the side and looked out of the window.

They were just a couple weeks into the school year, but Will didn’t feel overworked like he usually did. Will had easily fallen into the routine of working along with Nico, who had surprisingly good control of schoolwork and when stuff was due.

“What did you get me?” Nico asked curiously when Will came back to the table and put down two cups. Will looked at him, suddenly slightly anxious that he had gotten the wrong thing for his friend. “You didn’t specify what you wanted, so I just got you hot chocolate. Was that okay?”

Nico looked surprised for the fraction of a second before grabbing the cup with both of his hands and smiling up at Will- the same adorable scrunched-up eyes smile that made Will’s legs just the tiniest bit weaker. No, we will not fall for this person now, William, even though you already did, you dumb fuck.

“Thank you, Will,” Nico said earnestly. “I thought you were going to get me coffee, but hot chocolate is just as okay. Really. I enjoy hot chocolate too.”

Will sat down again and thought for a moment before pushing his cup of coffee over to where Nico was sitting. “You can have a sip or two if you need caffeine. That’s really okay. I don’t mind sharing at all.”

“It’s a nice apartment you got,” Nico commented after Will had locked himself into his and Kayla’s apartment. It was later in the day, and Will had invited Nico over for food and video games- if Nico was up to video games of course. In the back of his mind, Will was very well aware of all the boxes still unpacked in their apartment.

“Thanks,” Will replied, throwing his keys into the bowl on the small table they kept in the hallway. It was filled with what looked like Kayla’s asthma medication (Will knew she kept one in her bag too, so she was good, a pack of chewing gum and what looked like post:it notes and pens. “It’s a bit messy since we only moved in here like three weeks ago.”

Nico shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s not like my home is pristine at all times too. We’re all human, Will.”

Will snorted and flashed Nico a creepy grin, one that made his lip piercing glint in the hallway light. “Are you sure about that, di Angelo? For all you know, I could be a demon preparing to steal and devour your soul.”

Feeling accomplished that he had made Nico laugh, Will made his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He hadn’t had enough to drink that day, and to be entirely honest, he was aware that his head was not too happy about that. “Do you want a glass of water too, Nico?”

He turned around when he heard the sound of soft socks moving over the laminate floor. There was Nico, hands hidden inside the oversized sweater and dragging his feet across the floor. His feet- clad with soft purple socks. What an adorable person.

He didn’t hear Nico’s answer. “What did you say again?”

Nico laughed again. “No, it’s okay, Will. Yes, I would like a glass of water, thank you.”

Will turned around again and grabbed a glass, filling it with water from the tap, trying his best to hide his blush. He was sure that the water was safe to drink.

“Thank you for helping me out with homework today,” Will mentioned as he handed Nico the glass. “I’m a horrible procrastinator unless someone kicks my butt the entire time I’m working.”

He put down his glass next to the sink and looked at Nico. “I need to go to the bathroom, but I will be right back. If you want, you can wait in my room. Second to the right down the hallway.”

Having Nico’s nod of approval, he left the kitchen, walked down the hallway and into the bathroom, sinking down against the wall with a sigh. He was falling. Hard.

Why am I doing this to myself? Will thought desperately, staring at himself in the mirror. Staring back at him was a teenager with faded red-dyed hair, piercings and a black band merch hoodie. It had been through the wash so many times that it was impossible to read exactly which band it was. He knew though, and somehow Nico had too. My Chemical Romance was always recognisable.

Deciding that he had stayed long enough in the bathroom for it to be convincing that he hadn’t just contemplated 666 ways of isolating himself from the world because he was an emotional little shit, Will flushed the toilet and left the room. He took yet another deep breath before walking into his bedroom, where Nico was sitting on his office chair. “You look like a child when you swing your legs back and forth like that.”

Nico rummaged through his pockets and dug out a lollipop, ripping off the wrapper before sticking it into his mouth. “Do you mind that?” The look he sent Will made Will’s heart skip a beat. How dare you be so adorable you little shit. This is unfair because I really want to kiss you but what if you don’t want to kiss me. This is kinda awkward.

“Not really no,” Will admitted, slumping down on his bed, shielding his eyes from the harsh bedroom ceiling light. “I can’t handle all the light. Nico, protect me!”

Nico sighed, kicking Will’s shin with one of his floofy-socks-clad feet. “Oi, you’ll survive. Get over it. It’s not like the ceiling light will give you a sunburn or anything like that.”

Will looked at him through the curly dark red fringe. “Are you honestly sure about that? Don’t test me here, I can manage everything if I try hard enough.”

“Sure, because you can fly. I’ll believe it when I see it, Solace,” Nico said, not quite able to hide the smile and giggles.

Will didn’t even reply to that as he stared at Nico, wondering what he was supposed to do with himself if Nico continued to act like the cutest person alive. God damn it, he wasn’t supposed to deal with complicated feelings like this. Love really was a weird thing.

He coughed, trying to clear his throat, although there was nothing to clear. “Is there anything, in particular, you want to eat? I can order pizza.”

Nico nodded. “No, pizza sounds good. I don’t eat it a lot, but pizza is always good.”

After discussing back and forth for a couple minutes trying to find something they both liked, they settled for something along the lines of ham and mushrooms (neither of them liked the mushrooms, but they were always peel-off-able so it wasn’t an issue.)

They ate the pizza discussing different tv shows they had watched recently, but it quickly turned into a heavy debate and rant about the shitty teachers at school.

“The English teacher, Mr Reynolds, is shit,” Nico argued. “He’s always mean to me because my English isn’t perfect and he hates Italians for a reason I don’t even understand. I think his life goal is to see me fail, although I wish him good luck with that since I manage to score well on every single test.”

“He’s not the best, no,” Will agreed. “But the history teacher is worse. Or, the worst, Blackwell, math. He’s the nightmare of nightmares. I don’t like him at all. Especially with the amount of homework he sent us home with this week.”

Nico nodded, a piece of cheese hanging out from the side of his mouth. Will had to fight the urge to remove it. “That was ridiculous. He can’t expect that much of us this early in the term.”

“Well, apparently he doesn’t care that we have to sit an hour longer every night solving equations and trig questions,” Will muttered, staring towards his backpack that was on the couch, containing the damned math homework they had barely made a dent in. “I need to go buy more paper Monday afternoon. I’m out of grid loose leaf paper after all the homework.”

“I can give you some if you remind me tomorrow night to put some more in my backpack,” Nico offered around a giant piece of pizza. “Should last you through Monday at least so that you can go after school and get more. I can come with you if you want to. I need to get more whiteout anyways so I might as well get it done then so I can stop borrowing yours all the time.”

Secretly, Will hadn’t minded that Nico had borrowed his whiteout, even though he was running low too. It wasn’t like both of them wrote everything perfectly on the first try.

“Sounds like a plan.��

“Will! We-el! I’m here! Behind you!” Nico shoved his way through the school corridor calling for Will. “Will! You big emo oaf, stop so I can catch up to you!”

Will turned and looked down, where he saw a pastel figure fight his way through the sea of navy and beige trying to get to him. He motioned towards the door in the gesture of “I will meet you outside so I don’t get killed by the rest of year 10 for causing a clot in the school circulatory system.

Will quickly got out of the door and closed the flap on his bag while waiting for Nico. He had barely lasted through the day, being out of whiteout (he had given the very rest to Nico and resorted to writing with pencil most of the day which he typically didn’t like but it was worth it), but he had somehow managed. He had remembered to bring his wallet (a personal achievement in his opinion, considering how forgetful he usually was) and his crush on Nico was (as always) very present.

He looked at Nico fighting his way out of the mob of students either getting to a new class or leaving and smirked.

“Are you okay there, Nic?” Will said, teasingly bending down to the same height as Nico’s offended face. He knew that Nico was sensitive about his height, and truth be told, Will loved teasing him about it.

Nico scoffed and crossed his arms. “Don’t call me that.”

Will just laughed and ran his hand through his hair before staring in the general direction of the bus stop. “So, do you wanna go to the tiny bookstore around here somewhere and get paper and whiteout or do you wanna go to the city and get what we need and some coffee afterwards?”

Nico smiled up at him. “That sounds nice.”

And Will melted slightly inside.

[onpagetwentyone]

I haven't posted anything here since March? I guess? Or February? I'm so missing, not really in action because I'm pretty much active on twitter, ranting in 250 characters, or less and my bitch face is definitely alive on instagram.

I'm in a massive reading slump and I haven't read a single book since.. OH MY GOODNESS! Huge Deal by Lauren Layne. HAHA! I didn't even write a review about that. 

Not only that but also because I've been sooooo busy with work and school as well. Yup, not easy. So this post is really just about what happened in the past few months.

Time management is really my weakness. I've created a schedule, wrote stuff in my planner such as schedule, when to post things, due dates, exams, meetings, training and the like and still ended up procrastinating. I'm pretty good at that. BUT, I SURVIIIVED! Well, still surviving.

I'm currently waiting for my final grades and somewhat reviewing.

Okay, let's have some sort of a flashback.

I enrolled Certificate in Teaching. It consists of a total of 18 units of PROFESSIONAL EDUCATION courses required by PRC for non-BSED or BEED (or non-education majors) who wants to take the Licensure Examination for Teachers. And I surviiived! Yaaaay! Thank God! We just had our final exams last week. I'm now preparing for the LET!

It wasn't easy, aside from the fact that studying to be a teacher is not easy,  CIT isn't in ANY WAY related to my undergraduate degree and I'm working at the same time so that just made it extra harder. I have to study EXTRA, too.

And that's why I've been missing here. But I'm back, kind of.

Here's what I'm doing for the past few days:

Working. I have to work in order to survive.

Hoarding stationery and other journaling stuff for my reviewers.

Catching up with my TO-BE-READ pile because I'm kind of afraid that I'm not going to finish all those books before I die.

Catching up with Game of Thrones, well, I wasn't able to catch up so I just spoiled myself to it. Now, I decided to watch the entire series and read the books.

So there. HAHAHA! I'm also catching up with other shows in netflix. Yup, I need a life.

P.S.

I kind of bought three books from second-hand bookshops, one of the booksellers asked for my phone number, they'll just message me once they already have a copy of ASOIAF by GRRM and my friend went home and she brought my copies of White House Duet by Katy Evans. I got 5 paperbacks this month alone. I'm so happy!

I'm actually doing just fine. Learning the art of not giving a fuck and just busy living my life.

❤, JL

[sonitavalentine]

Ship Game

I guess I was tagged by @eb-byestelle, @eternalyumelove and @purebloodprincess for this. I know, it’s super later to make this now but I was super busy and wanted to make this thing anyway xD

So, uh...

1.What are your top 10 manga/anime ships of all time?

I guess, it’s in no specific order, but:

Kaname & Yuuki, Vampire Knight

Hak & Yona, Akatsuki no Yona

Yuuri Katsuki & Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri on Ice

Touka Kirishima & Kaneki Ken, Tokyo Ghoul

Tomoe & Nanami Momozono, Kamisama Hajimemashita

Gilgamesh & Arturia Pendragon, Fate/Zero

(I know this gif isn’t from FZ, don’t @ me)

Hei & Misaki Kirihara, Darker than Black

Aaaaaannd... thta’s only seven, but if I add more to have ten, there will be ships from already mentioned animes and I don’t wan’t it to be repeated plus I don’t include ships that are barely in manga. Let it be like this bc I’m a lazy ass.

2. What gif or screenshot most sums up your ship?

I tried my best, look above.

3. Describe your favorite ship in seven words or less.

Have mercy on me, it’s gonna be less.

Kaname&Yuuki: eternal, erotic, painful.

Hak&Yona: Supportive, cheerful, sub/dom (lol).

Viktuuri: distant but close, different but similar, simply amazing.

Touka&Kaneki: tender, patient, accepting.

Tomoe&Nanami: sarcastic, divine, inspiring.

Gilgamesh&Arturia: don’t ship it if you’re in an adequate state of mind xD royal, magnificent, equal.

Hei&Misaki: frienemies and eneriends lol, understanding, unrequited.

4. What’s your go-to episode or scene when you need ship feels?

Kaname&Yuuki: the chapter with vampire ball (don’t remember the number) and chapter 89. Sorry not sorry.

Hak&Yona: hoenstly, I can’t choose. They have so many cool moments. Probably one of them will be the moment I included into the gif - so much care and love in their eyes. And also the moments when Hak teases Yona in the beginning of the story xD

Viktuuri: episodes 7 and 10, of course I think every viktuuri says the same lol

Touka&Kaneki: chapter 125, wedding chapter, the latest chapter. And episode in Re: when Haise saw Touka for the first time - it’s friggin beautiful T_T

Tomoe&Nanami: Yukiji arc. 

Gilgamesh&Arturia: lolol xD Okay, the royal talk with them and Rider - I think this is where Gil got his interest on Saber.

Hei&Misaki: Them sitting under the false sky and talking about stars T_T again, I don’t remember the episode, my memory is a trash can sometimes.

5. What song or songs remind you of your favorite fandom, character or ship?

Here I don’t have much to tell bc not all ships had a song I ever associated them with, but:

Kaname&Yuuki: Apocalyptica feat. Doug Robb - Not strong enough

Gilgamesh&Arturia: Megaherz - Mein Gral

honestly, I can give you a full playlist of songs that remind me of Yume than other ships lol because the music I usually listen to is dark and suits them very well

 Tomoe&Nanami: Buck Tick - Nocturne 

6. What ship are you embarrassed to admit you like?

Ehhhh, okay not like I’m embarrassed to ship them but embarrassed to talk about them because there’s a lot of my friends who have a preference on another ship that is super popular. So it’s Gino and Akane from Psycho Pass xD And it’s weird because I still have nothing against Kougami and Akane, but sometimes something inside me fights with my feelings and tells me that Gino and Akane could do a pretty good married couple. I still see Kougami more like a Kasanova style so giving him to Akane only is unfair xD even though they also look good. So yeah, it’s weird, next question.

7. Do you prefer to indulge in (consume or create) fanart or fanfic of your favorite ship?

Create fanfic, I’m a writer to the core.Consume fanart, I’m a visual type.

8. Smut or fluff?

Smut. However, if you ask me “smut or angst/drama”, I choose angst/drama. I’m not really into fluffy sugar-coated type of scenes lol.

9. What task are you most likely to procrastinate so you can indulge in your ship or fandom?

Nothing, I just indulge into it when I have enough time to enjoy it: I can’t enjoy anything when I know I have Damocles’ sword of an important task above me.

10. How many hours of the day do you spend reading fanfic or looking at fanart or other media?

Altogether (fanfiction, fanart, etc) it’s about 1-2 hours per day, in busy days it’s 0 hours per day :D

11. How many memorabilia’s do you own of your favorite fandom or ship (clothes, plushies, etc.)?

Not many, I have a prefect’s bandage from VK and phone case with Yume, the rest of memorabilia I have don’t relate to animamnga (expect for volumes).

12. If you could own one authentic item from your favorite fandom world, what would it be?

Nothing specific, but I’d give a leg and more for owning the videos of all performance of Viktor and Yuuri - I love figure skating so it’d be amazing to see all their famous entries.

13. What is the strangest thing you’ve done to honor your favorite fandom, ship or character?

Nothing.

14. What fandom have you found to be too toxic to deal with?

To some extent every fandom is toxic, but among those I dealt with VK wins the first place without a doubt.

15. Do you have or would you consider getting a tattoo depicting your favorite ship or fandom?

Nope, I like seeing tattooes on other people, but scarcely I’d decide to do it on myself. If only something not too big and pretty, but not fandom related definitely.

16. If the creators of your favorite fandom asked you to write the ship canon-confirmation episode, what will you write/how will it happen?

I’ll skip it, because most of my ships are canon, and those that aren’t claim more from my side than simply write a small paragraph on how they can become canon.

Okay, idk who already been tagged?, so I go with @white-queen-lacus @yumikuran11 @vk-crzy @yumiko27 @enchantingdaizy and whoever feels like doing this!

[sleepymarmot]

A couple of months ago, after finishing COUNTER/Weight, I spent about a week in a total hangover, relistening to scenes and having feelings. I took some notes, but procrastinated posting them, and then finally got distracted. But, a) I hate leaving things I intended for tumblr unposted, even if they have value only for me, and b) I also hate posting things out of order, and there's a big TM liveblog incoming. So, here's a bunch of really random thoughts about C/w from past me.

The gnosis virus did go nowhere huh. I was hopeful for a minute when one of the finale intros mentioned it, but that was it. What was the purpose of that arc even. [Note from present me: Lol. At least I feel better about this one!]

Oh, and the patch AuDy left never reappeared either. And the idea from the faction game that Aria's images owned by EarthHome/Petrichor transmit Rigour code… That's the flip side of the coin. On the one hand, it's really cool to see the creative process – on the other, it sometimes feels like you're listening to people write a script for the tv show, but only get to see a half of the finished product. It's fascinating to see the universe grow organically and the players to come up with new ideas and get excited about them – but that means numerous retcons, some of them not even presented as such, because the creators forgot what the previous revision was or didn't thought it was important. It's a unique feature of the medium that player choice directs the narrative and it's not bound by railroading – but that means some roads lead nowhere, and some branches dry and fall off.

It's a bit harder to make peace with something that could have easily been developed more within the existing plot of the show. How come there's a player character whose consciousness consists of three different people in various combinations, but nobody seems to be curious how that works? No PC or NPC ever asked “Which one of you is speaking right now?” or something. The final episodes made a lot of things clearer, but it still felt too little, too late. Hard not to be reminded of that gripe about certain two characters sharing one character sheet one of whom was left underdeveloped and half-forgotten… Both are very ambitious concepts that require a double amount of work from the player, so I feel bad complaining they weren't realized to full potential, but…

Speaking of L&D… I still want to know how the hell did that one engineer all by herself design 4 gods, one of which became a basis for technology that was advanced even for the civilizations 80,000 years later? This woman singlehandedly surpassed any technological achievement of humanity before and after. Who Is She

I saw a “Wake me up: before you go go / when september ends / wake me up inside” meme and thought “heh, this sounds relevant, which member of the Chime is which?” and it already made me sad, but then I realized that I'd never actually heard the september song and looked it up and. The lyrics fit so well. What the fuck. It's an old song everyone keeps joking about. Why is it appropriate for a legitimate fanmix. What. I guess the word “September” will never be the same again for me.

I looked up the rules for Firebrands, the game used for the finale. Oh my, challenges for the dance minigame are so overtly romantic when you see them in a list together! Imagine this cast of characters having to answer to “do you place your hand upon my elbow, shoulder, waist, or hip?” lmao. Also I didn't realize “May I?” was part of the rules for “stealing time together”. (And I found out there's a party version of that minigame with bug-themed challenges. I might have dug too deep…) "Tactical skirmish" is a really fascinating concept, I've never seen such a masochistic combat system! Really faces the player with the violence they're inflicting: sure, you can always fight on, but are you ready to live with what you'll have to do? But for it to work fully, you need a lot of non-expendable NPCs on both sides. The one with the most likeable team wins! (Like Mako did.)

I'm relistening to Three Conversations and it's pretty interesting that Ibex has a bunch perfectly lifelike android bodies, right? There is no such technology seen anywhere else. Did Righteousness develop and privatize that? Are they so complex that only a Divine would have enough computing power to successfully mimic organic life? Can Aria convince Righteousness to help her perform on stage without leaving her duties? Also, like with AuDy, I wonder how Ibex & Righteousness' consciousness works. Is it a single mind, spread across every body he has, or even anything Righteousness is running on, having a bunch of different conversations at once if he needs to? Or is the original Ibex just gone, and what's left is a personality imprint hanging on to the connection to his still living body, imitating his former self like the automated recording Cass saw wore his face? In other words, has Ibex completely fused with Righteousness, or assimilated and destroyed by it? Does he not exist anymore as an independent singular being, or does he not exist at all? Most info indicates the former, but there was also “You’re not in there anymore” “No”.

If Orth and Jace are anime fans with their Kingdom Come and Panther, then Ibex is the guy who's way too into dinosaurs or paleontology. It's as if the heads of various confessions were called Triceratops, Stegosaurus etc. and only one of them knows wtf that means, and also he compares his Divine to… Were there scavenging dinosaurs? I'm looking at an article that suggests T. Rex might have been a scavenger, so yeah he would compare Righteousness to a goddamn T. Rex.

Hey what do you think is the most thematically aproppriate part of the Hieron anime for Orth to watch alone at night during the Kingdom game. What's the best thematic parallel for when he turns off the episode and thinks he made a mistake. Do you think that he once, after a long day and a long month and maybe a long year of feeling helpless and doomed, sits down for a distraction but ends up sobbing “How could they let this happen to Mother Glory”

On Joypark, there are definitely statues of Eidolons, ancient and holy, that were repainted and repurposed as Hieron deities. Imagine a giant Greek or Roman style marble statue of Apote – and it’s painted over as Samot, with an anime face and in really bright plain colors like these “reconstructions of original coloring” that actually only use base colors so they look like cheap action figures.

I was reading Austin's top ten games of 2016 list on Waypoint and he gave first place to The Sprawl! Aww!

The Downloads folder in my phone gallery is funny bc it mostly consists of every freely available f@tt map and also that one photo of Tristan Walker (because I tried to redraw it, very unsuccessfully). I go check a map and every time am met by Ibex just. staring at me. It's unsettling

Some of the many options for how Apostolosian gender could have been presented:

Apostolosians prefer to be addressed by the most neutral available human pronoun, represented as "they" in English, because the human languages don't have anything close enough

Apostolosian pronouns are represented in English by a set of real-life common pronouns and neopronouns

There's a list of Apostolosian pronouns and they're just used in English verbatim (Really impractical because the players need a cheat sheet, but the most fair)

Humans apply human genders to Apostolosians. Apostolosians may be offended, may find it convenient, or something else

As Austin said in the post-mortem, the Eidolon system is not gender. It's represented in English by titles/honorifics/etc

Any of the above, and the creators are aware of the difference between personal pronouns, grammatical gender, and social gender

And that’s not even touching the core problem of what the concept of gender in a futuristic, techonologically advanced society would look like. Yes, I'm complaining about this for the third time but I'm just. So tired of native English speakers' takes on gendered language. They could have made Apostolosian gender look like anything and they made it look like that fucking mess... God, I really hope TM is good enough to make me forget and forgive the experience of listening to “he... sorry, they” for 100 hours. [Note from present me: Well… mostly]

Here’s my take on this: eidolons in Apostolosian language are absurdly broad noun classes with associated classifiers (which fits both the idea that they’re gender but not actually, and that each of them is a patron to several unrelated aspects of life) Apostolosian: the word “(Apo)thesa” is used to refer to people who follow the corresponding eidolon, as well as for counting buildings, heavy machinery, military units, specific strategies and tactics, log entries, historical documents and chronicles, history textbooks and monographs, and eras :) Human: what the fuck

Very critical, imaginative worldbuilding in which 80,000+ years into the future humanity somehow has 21st century gender and 21st century capitalism! TBH, I find any sci-fi set in the far future inherently silly – we can’t really imagine the future technogy and its effect on society. But it feels like C/w barely even tried, and to hear it boast about “critical worldbuilding” is kinda strange. I assumed that meant they build the world critically, not that they recreate modern society or some aspect of it and criticize that! It’s just another Star Trek then! And it was already clear right during the setup when they said “We don’t want Star Trek aliens” and immediately created Apostolosians.

I haven't seen a single piece of fanart with Taako and Mako. Come on, does nobody want to see these two next to each other! Especially considering the outfits artists like to put Taako in!

I really don't understand how and why people do fandom activities on Twitter and Discord where the creators also have accounts. It gives me so much secondhand embarrassment. I can barely peek at Twitter posts before running away. Old-fashioned opinion apparently but I strongly believe the main fandom space and the interaction-with-original-creators space should be separate. I need a space where I can voice my opinions, especially negative ones, with complete freedom. I need to be able to say exactly what's on my mind. But I wouldn't want any of the people on the podcast to read something unfiltered like my complaints above. Being in the same space as the source content creators obliges any decent person to be diplomatic and constructive. And the creators, in turn, need a space where they don't come across complete randos yelling at them about something they said in a podcast three years ago. I'm already feeling uncomfortable because hearing to strangers pour their hearts out for hundreds of hours gives me way too much insight on who they are as people. Of course, nothing’s stopping them from lurking on Tumblr or AO3 and even reading this very post, but a platform where they have official accounts is still a different thing! I even feel uncomfortable talking about the podcast creators using their first names so much. To my ear, referring to a total stranger by first name, especially if it's a shortened form, sounds so rude! I'm not their friend, I don't have that right! But, of course, writing something like “Mr Walker” in my liveblogs would have been even weirder, nobody does that...

Is it a common experience to not even think about fanfiction after listening to Hieron, but going straight to AO3 after C/w? I feel like since Hieron is still a work in progress, writing/reading about it is stepping on the GM&players' toes, and C/w is finished so it's like they gave us the keys to the playground, it's the fandom's turn now. This story has so much blanks and they must be filled! In one of the early episodes they joked that something cute they said would encourage people to ship Mako/Cass and I was like "Bold of you to assume they aren't already" and, indeed, I was right and it's the most popular C/w ship on AO3. Too bad I’m so indifferent to it…

It’s a shame we never had a full scene with Ariadne or even learned what they were up to during the finale.

I still don't understand how Ibex went from “evil CEO” to “leader of a proletarian revolution”, these sound like completely opposite concepts to me

I probably have talked about this too much and have pretty much given up on ever getting a clear picture due to all of these reimaginings but… Righteousness and Voice… Ibex takes Righteousness out of Mako but he still has Voice, that was pretty much openly stated, correct? So how does that work? I’m guessing Righteousness is hidden somewhere in Voice’s code. But if so:

Did Maryland know? On the one hand, she’s too competent not to. On the other, why would she ever allow or accept that?

How did Righteousness not get corrupted by Rigour too? Maybe it did, but broke off the connection with the rest of itself to contain the damage? Or maybe, on the contrary, it kept in contact and was sending intel to Ibex the whole time? But in that case he would have provided more help in the finale.

[vgtravlr]

Got tagged by the beautiful @ysuhbella! Thanks Tita! (Sorry for the lateness on this because of work...something something...see #4.

rule: write ten facts about yourself then tag ten people you’d like to get to know better

1. I’m pretty sure I have massive amounts of unchecked rage and repressed emotions locked behind a kind attitude and shy demeanor that has managed to lead people to label me as, ‘The Quiet One’. I’m probably due for a meltdown or just a long ugly cry. Stay tuned.

2. I studied Fine Arts in college and university but still can’t draw or paint to save my life. Well, I guess I can but when some would ask, WTF is that? I say, it’s ‘abstract’ then nod affirmatively and add under my breath, “hmm. Indeed.” then stare off  like any self respecting artist would. Art is still life though.

3. I play video games for a living. It’s not as glamorous as you think but does have its perks and I enjoy it for the most part. Unfortunately, no. I can’t ‘hook you up’.

4. I’m Asian. However, I’m lazy by nature and have a PhD in procrastination. I am my own dilemma.

5. I used to work at the airport and Ikea. No relation other than I’m familiar with loading things into things.

6. I’m Canadian. I understand French but as for speaking it, its a work in progress. Salut à tous les Montréalais/e out there, big yourselves up! No. I dont play hockey or live in an igloo, but my neighbor’s polar bear is pretty nice.

7. I  hate the number 892,342,956. It knows why.

8. I like animals, but never owned one. Maybe one day. However, I’ll never own or collect insects or understand why someone would do so willingly. Looking at you @rainbowreaper214 :)

9. I keep my sanity intact by consuming the 4 basic food groups of movies, anime, playing video games and reading comics. I have a huge backlog in each of those categories. Hit me up anytime if anyone wants to chat about it.

10. I enjoy writing and always wanted to create a comic or a short movie. I’m open to collaborations. And yes @ysuhbella, I will eventually get to my HZD AU story involving Aloy/Nil/Avad. I probably would have started but see #4.

I tag: The first 10 ppl that started to follow me that are still around, occasionally like my edits and who I still enjoy their stuff whenever they pop up on my feed. No need to do this but just wanted to say you’re the tops! in order, @maggierosestudio, @bi-aloy , @sun-bae,  @ziimahfaeraak, @nika-vincent, @wolf-fitz, @lk1a1-4510, @narset-transcendent, @blowingoffsteam2, @zae-lynn. Honorable mention goes to these fine ppl who pop up on my feed and I’ve always wanted to say thanks, I see you fam. @gordon88, @charbooo, @annecasap, @harvincy, @aprilryanmyfriend, @czgaiaedition, @stillnotgoodatthis, @turtleenchanter

[theycalledmecrazy]

It's strange to say, but I'm one of the last people to shop in the wee hours of the morning at a Walmart. I finished my shopping and approached the cash register right around midnight. The cashier had just clocked in and had just been told that was her last night working the late shift as a cashier. Starting tomorrow, all the Walmarts across the nation will close at 11 PM. Third shifters like my cashier will be in charge of cleaning and sanitizing a store and assisting in restocking for the next day.

It's a strange thing to think about. Our lives are so convenience based. Anytime day or night, if you need something, there was probably a store within a reasonable driving distance that you could go to and find what you need, barring any specialty necessities. 

I wonder to myself if this move won't be slightly counterproductive to containing the virus. As it stands now, shoppers are spread out in the major big box stores over a 24-hour period. Now, with many stores taking 8 or so hours off in the middle of the night, shoppers will only be able to access the store within a 16 to 17 hour timeframe, naturally leading to a higher concentration of people during those times.

It's been a week of interesting firsts. Just the other day, Mike Dewine, governor of Ohio made the announcement that Ohio schools would be closed for 3 weeks. For the first time in history, every Disney park on Earth is closed at the same time. And for the first time in my knowledge, my job has authorized people who don't normally work from home to do so.  

I digress from my point. First, I suppose some backstory will be due. This is being written on the Ides of March in the year 2020. I am in Columbus, Ohio, United States. I am 37 years old. The country, state, and city have all declared states of emergency in the wake of the spread of the Covid-19 virus pandemic. As I dictate this to my phone, I'm driving home from Sidney Ohio, having just completed a route delivering medicine to nursing homes. I work two jobs.

I began researching this disease and the spread of it well before it hit American shores. I've been watching the John Hopkins 'heat map' since the second week of January, a time when the only mention of coronavirus you heard was your coworker telling a joke involving it going best with lyme disease. I've learned about its capability of spread in an urban populace, and I watched the drone footage of the "ghost city" of Wuhan several weeks ago, long before it went viral (ha!) via Facebook. A booming urban metropolis reduced to how London looked in 28 Days Later. I learned about the term 'Community Spread' before it was ever uttered on American live feeds. My productivity at work, my attention to friends, my normal functioning bottomed out as I became hyperfocused on the menace that I begged the universe in vain to keep overseas. I should have known, and should have been preparing. But, as humans are prone to be, I was a product of my environment. That culture of convenience and procrastination. But now there's no more convenience and no more procrastination.

I now know that things are going to get worse. These kind of rushes on product like we've been seeing is just the beginning. We are going to face days of true scarcity. I fear that even with my recent stockpiling, that my "preparedness" has come too late. I remember my father teaching me how to stockpile and prep for days when there would be scarcity, and I've failed to do so effectively. Over the last week or so, I've done my best with the small amount of resources I have. As things stand now, my shelves are stocked. I know how to ration in emergency situations, and although it will suck, I know that I can ration much smaller amounts because I have a lot of fat on my body that my body will live off of for extended periods of time. I always joked that being overweight was just a surplus Y2K survival kit. Turns out, that's truer than I'd like it to be. I thought keto was my path to losing weight. Turns out the coming days will be much more effective. 

The scenarios that we had always gone over in are prepping drills involved an attack on the United States or some uprising within. All that boogaloo horseshit you hear, or heard. Ways to make sure that your food was secure from people that might be looking for it. Making sure that you had weapons to defend yourself and those in your care. Safeguards against basic things like frostbite or heat exhaustion. Basic first aid. Foraging. Boy Scout shit. The drills never included anything like Covid-19. At first we were told that the illness was little worse than a common cold, just a little easier to spread the people. Now, we are getting reports that it creates a fibrosis in the lungs, and even if you recover from your bout of the illness, you can be left with up to 20% reduced lung capacity. People in Hong Kong are now reporting that healthy adults that have recovered from the disease now get winded by a brisk walk. In Japan, a recovered patient has tested positive for the disease again, making the medical community wonder about the antibodies that the bodies of recovered SHOULD be producing. Dad and I never prepared for anything like that. I think the best hope in the situation that we prepared for would be that any human we come in contact with will have also been similarly reduced in  capacity, since this disease looks to be one that will spread to a majority of the populace. I'm glad that part of preparedness is adaptability, but I'm still sitting here rambling.  

I've tried to focus on purpose in the last several days. I keep telling myself that it's important to stay positive and to still do the things that I love doing. Indeed, I still play cards with my roommate and my gaming group of friends, all aware that we may wind up having to quarantine once 'things get bad'. I watch people that I love still doing the things that they love, seemingly unaware of the world that's collapsing around us. What I like to go see a movie? Would I like to go to the mall? Would I like to go see a show in a theater? Absolutely. But while many do not notice, we don't live in that world anymore. Well, some still do. They'll live in that world until the very last moment they can - which is why I had to live in this new one so soon. Even now, when it's becoming apparent that the world as we knew it is over, social media is alight with blissful ignorance and vapid resistance to the world we find ourselves in. 

When the first cases were reported in the state, it was on a day I found myself financially unstable. I couldn't have prepared for anything that day if I'd wanted to - I had victoriously paid off two large pieces of debt and was done with an 'only has money' week until next payday, and even the next paycheck had obligations. Instead of writing a plan, I wrote letters to my loved ones with advice for the upcoming hard times, and an apology for leaving them(before you all sound the alarm, that's not what this is, and that feeling has long since passed). Reading the letters to myself, I realized the cowardice behind the words, and despised myself for a few days after deleting them. Though, admittedly, even now as I watch the heat map and watch the numbers rolling in, I somewhat long for cowardice, but steel myself and square my shoulders for the task ahead. 

Now this.

Some friends have asked me to promise to get their loved ones to them if I'm closer to them than they are, or even to keep them with me and keep them safe. For all my misanthropy, I guess people still see me as some kind of fringe guardian in many respects. I suppose it's because they know I'd die before letting someone I care about die. I wonder if it makes me exploitable, or if maybe that's just my purpose. It makes a lot of things make a lot of sense. Sometimes in the horror movie of life, you're the one that distracts the monster so the others can get away. I have no illusions of being the hero, but I won't turn down the opportunity if it happens. Ugh, this paragraph was self serving as hell, but I'm not deleting anything at this point. Watch me ramble. Maybe there's something valuable in it. 

That time is a bit off, but I know that I'm going to see loved ones die in this, and I know that my friends in my time that read this will think I'm being overdramatic(I'm sure some of them haven't even made it this far and have either called me or forwarded this to authorities - both unnecessary, I assure you). I know that I may not survive what's coming. So I think the best thing I can do is do what I've always done. Write. I will write and hope that my words will create a culture among those that read my words in a distant future. My goal is to make you, the reader, not make the same mistakes we made, the mistakes I made, the mistakes anyone made. I won't have an editor, most likely, so forgive my rambled mess of a memoir. Maybe someone in the future will edit and make sense of it all. 

I hope that this is all just me ranting and raving about something absurd and in the future this will embarrass me and we'll all laugh about it. If you're in the future and reading this, however, that means that scenario isn't what happened. I hope things are better for you. I hope that I'm talked about with good words. I hope some of my loved ones are the ones who saved these words and shared them with the world. It would be really great if it was me, but I'd probably edit out this whole paragraph, so probably not. That's ok. Either way, it's now 2:30am and I must unload groceries and get them shelved. Tomorrow is another day, and I'm going to play some video games while I can like the old millennial I am to escape for a couple hours before my nerves finally let me sleep. See? Rambling run-on sentences. You'd never guess I was an English major. Ms. Somers would be so disappointed (lol). I told my friends in February that we'd be ordered to stay at home soon. They called me crazy.

I didn't realize until just this moment that if anyone ever reads this aside from those I send it to in order to preserve it, I'll essentially have been writing my own eulogy. That's fine. I'll take that.

I decided to create this Tumblr on March 30, 2020. In the two weeks since writing this prologue, things have progressively gotten worse. I will write more tomorrow.

[the-doll-house-xo]

[Got] 7 Deadly Sins: Sloth

What was the point?

What was the relevance of having the days follow each other when you were immortal, destined to live until the end of time itself?

Why was it a big deal that I didn’t do His task on time when there were so many that could have done it instead of me?

I had so many brothers and sisters up there that I was just a tiny drop in a rainstorm.

When Father created time, I was in charge of making it go by for the mortals.

Seconds turning into minutes. 

Minutes turning into hours. 

Hours into days. 

Days into weeks. 

Weeks into seasons. 

Seasons into years.

It was such a tedious routine to me that I had to find something to kill time, ironically enough. The only things I liked were what humans called spring and summer. The flowers in bloom carpeting the ground and trees with vibrant colors; the sun shining brightly up in the sky, its warm rays illuminating the lands his Father had created; the birds chirping happily welcoming the warmer temperatures to which I found myself singing along with absentmindedly… I loved it all so much that I didn’t want the day to end, making the sun go down later than it normally would, and when it did, I would make it as beautiful as I could painting the skies in different hues of blue, orange, pink, and yellow. It was all so aesthetically pleasing to me, adding to the inner peace I felt inside.

However, Father did not like me procrastinating at all. He said that I had a very important task at hand, that even though he appreciated the work I did with beautiful sunsets, sweet dawns, and bright daylight, I needed to keep in mind that it all wasn’t for my own leisure and that if I were to break the balance of time, it could have very bad consequences for humans.

“Everyone has his or her purpose, Youngjae. But not all of you have the same capacities and needs. Humans are mortals, and mortals measure time with the passing of days. That is how they know when to rest, when to be productive, and how to live life in general. Wouldn’t it be selfish to deprive them of that because of our own motives?”, Father told me with a saddened gaze before he stripped the wings off of me.

It wasn’t a punishment, he said. I needed to understand the importance of time and in order to do so, I had to spend it amongst the people that lived based on the passing of days.

That is how I found myself here on Earth.

My thoughts briefly drifted, shifting from my exile to my brothers.

I knew they were having it just as bad as me, if not worse.

Mark was the first one to succumb, the love he had for the flesh not wanting to be second to the love he should have for the soul. Easy to get the two confused, because Lust feels like love until it’s time to make a sacrifice…

Jaebum was never one for patience. Whenever he felt some sort of injustice, he would not hesitate to get his message across. Problem was, he would make up in Wrath what he wanted in reason.

And when it comes down to the two youngest ones, well… I guess I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.

We think ourselves so different from humans. We think we are more deserving, that we have fewer defects and more virtues when really we have much more in common than we are willing to admit. The only difference really is that we have much more time on our hands to commit our sins, some more to dwell on them, and some to spare to ask for forgiveness.

Currently, I had reached my phase of dwelling. But even that was a task I wasn’t willing to fulfill. Instead, here I am wasting away as the clicking noise of the mouse has now become the new melody my ears were accustomed to. My eyes follow the moving images on the screen as if losing sight of them would imply some great loss. All I can hear is the sound effects of the game I am playing, the noise canceling headphones I am wearing isolating me from the rest of the world that was actually being productive.

I can almost see Father shake his head in disapproval at the sight of me wasting away, his tone heavy with disappointment.

Suddenly, someone barged into my room, throwing the door open. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Who they were, rather. I could sense them and their aura. The only thing that put me off was that I felt three muddy auras, but it couldn’t be the youngest ones as they had left our apartment in Seoul not too long ago. That could only mean…

“Wow… Father really is on a rampage lately, huh?” I commented nonchalantly not detaching my gaze from the computer screen, shifting the headphones so that one ear was now free. Three of my older brothers had all gave in to their own sins, even Jackson.

But where was the oldest?

“Where are Bambam and Yugyeom?”, Jaebum asked. As usual, never beating around the bush.

“Out”, I responded simply with a weak shrug.

“Must be nice. Always out and about without a care in the world”, Jinyoung spoke, a bitter undertone to his voice.

“Can you at least look at us when we speak?”, Jackson interjected, irritated by the lack of attention received.

With a sigh, I removed the headphones I had on and turning my chair around to face them, a blank expression on my face.

Last time I saw them, I was looking at them from the shelter of the Heavens, Jackson still being up there with me.

Now they were in front of me, looking like they were dressing their sin after losing their wings and ethereal clothes, their features hard and fierce.

“Where’s Mark?”

A scowl crept across Jinyoung’s face as he answered, “He’s busy”.

There was more to this story I was sure of it, but it wasn’t why they were here.

“We need to talk. It is about time for a decision to be made”, Jaebum spoke up, his serious gaze piercing through mine. “Let the other two kids know that as soon as they come back. Times have changed, and we need to fend for ourselves as Father turned his back on us”

“He didn’t turn his back to us. He loves us. He just wants us to understand-”, Jinyoung tried to defend but he was quickly interrupted by an irritated Jaebum.

“Silence! Don’t deny what he did. It was his choice. Anyway, we will be back in three days. Then, we will talk”, the second eldest concluded before he left, soon followed by the other two.

Matters seemed gravely urgent. Now I felt like the world was weighing down on me with all the force of its gravity.

True, Father did love me. Us. He never looked pleased about having to strip us of our wings, symbol of our pure and immortal status. Now we were tainted by sin.

But would sin be the end of it? Or the start of the path to redemption..?

- Admin Dream

“Men make up in wrath what they want in reason”

- William R. Alger

“Lust feels like love until it is time to make a sacrifice"

- unknown