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woncon · 1 month ago

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➳ a pretty fish

➶ poly!mulmyungz x gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ “When you said you rescued an injured fish from the beach, this is not what I imagined.”

➴ genre: fluff and angst, merman!au, marine biologist!leehan, merman!jaehyun, courting, estabilished leehan x reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings: wounds, jaehyun is the cutest merman you ever saw (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

⌨ :: 3.2k words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ I wrote this fic in one sitting, from 10:30 pm until 2:00 am. Afterwards, I fell contentedly into bed and had a fantastic lucid dream. 10/10, would do it again.

⁀➷ Also, thanks for @wonsheep for betaing! 💓 To give you a fic where one of your biases is present: it's always a pleasure for me. 🙂‍↕️

➳ mlist

A finned boy lays in the bathtub.

You blink.

You blink again. And again. If there was a blinking contest nearby, you could enter, and you could easily win too. What else could you do instead of blinking? The fantasy may end if you do it enough.

But no. The boy—the merman is still there. He fills your entire horizon, and the whole bathtub. The membraned end of his thick fin is hanging out and over the porcelain edges, water dripping from it onto the towels on the ground. His elbows are perched on the edge of the tub. You see the membrane between his fingers, the pulsating gill on his neck, and, of course, his eyes with which he watches you intently. He doesn’t blink at you desperately like you did, he is simply curious.

Another three drops of water fall from his fin before you’re able to speak.

“When you said you rescued an injured fish from the beach, this is not what I imagined.”

“A pretty injured fish,” adds Donghyun, who is smiling as if he's won the lottery. Which isn't far from the truth. A living mermaid in your apartment: that's a marine biologist's jackpot.

“All fish are beautiful to you,” you remind him. You have a vivid memory of him telling you that devilfish are misunderstood because they're actually very lovable creatures. Among other things, you love him for his undeterred passion towards the marine world.

“But he is special,” you admit. “Can he talk? Or does he understand us?”

There are so many rumours and false reports about mermaids these days that it's hard to know what is true and what isn't. On one side, it is claimed that mermaids communicate with ultrasound, like dolphins. On the other, this is refuted and human vocal cords are mentioned. There are those who say that the existence of mermaids is pure fiction, spread by the government to divert attention from their immensely important secret research. This latter theory is splashing and sinking before your eyes.

“I don't know. His throat is bruised. If he is able to talk, he needs time.”

“Bruised?” You step closer to the tub. “What happened to him?”

“He got caught in some plastic, then the storm came and he probably hit a rock. Then the waves washed him ashore. That's where I found him.”

A few steps from the tub, you can see his wounds, both on his sensitive-looking, scaly skin and his blue fins. Several of his scales were torn off. When he lifts his head from his hands to get a better look for himself, you can see the nasty purple patch on his throat.

“Can you help him?” you turn to Donghyun in hope.

“Even if I can't, I want to try.”

You nod. You'd like that too. You're glad this merman is here in the bath and not lying unconscious on the beach. This time you keep eye contact with him, and you want to somehow convey your feelings to him: that he shouldn't worry because he's in good hands. His eyes suddenly widen, his thick lips part, but no sound comes out of his throat.

He closes his mouth and lies back on his hands, almost disappointed.

Donghyun rubs his hands, and at the same time you massage the back of your head.

“Any breakthroughs?” he asks.

You've spent the last hour searching thoroughly. You've been going through every article you can find on the internet, trying to get the essentials down. Mermaid literature is rich, scientific literature less so. You're not even sure if anyone other than you has actually been able to study live mermaids. For example, there is someone with a PhD who has written about this mysterious species, using scientific jargon, and you believed his words until he mentioned that mermaids have long claws and snake eyes.

“It's all like an extended Wikipedia article,” you report and close the nonsense article you've just read.

“I know.” Donghyun adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose and looks thoughtfully at the ceiling. “I'm beginning to think the internet is not the right place to get information from.”

You nod your head in agreement and pull closer to him, hoping that his embrace will make it easier to find another option to help you in this matter. Donghyun pats your knee.

Splash. There's a lot of water splashing on the tiles in the bathroom. Then a thud. Something heavy falls out of the tub.

You run into the bathroom with Donghyun. The merman is lying on the floor, on his stomach. Part of his fin is leaning against the tub, the end hanging over his head, water dripping from it onto his hair and face. He tries to crawl forward on the wet tiles—he clearly wants something, and you have to find a channel of communication to make it work.

Donghyun bends down to help him get ahead somehow, but the merman won't let him. He turns with some difficulty onto his back, but immediately grimaces, showing his clenched teeth. Now that his belly is out of the water, you can see the nasty cut on it. It'll have to be treated, though for now the merman doesn’t let Donghyun touch it, covering the wound with his own hand.

“Does it hurt?” asks Donghyun.

The merman gulps, but no sound comes out of his mouth. He frowns and he pats his belly, then pokes his mouth with his index finger.

Oh.

“He's hungry.”

It's great that he was able to communicate that, but what exactly a merman eats is a different, more complicated question. If it's some rare plant that exists only in the depths of the sea, you're in big trouble.

“I have an idea,” Donghyun stands up.

The bottom of his jeans are soaked through, but he doesn't care a bit. He rushes out of the room, then returns with a tiny bag. At first you think it's knitted or crocheted cotton, then he comes closer and you realise it's made of seaweed. “This is what he had when I found it,” he explains, then hands it to the merman.

The boy takes it with sparkling eyes. Something rattles in the package. The next moment he pulls out a shell. He crushes it on the tile, licks his mouth, then slides the wet animal into his mouth.

“He likes mussels,” Donghyun sighs, smiling in relief.

“And he can make himself understood,” you reply, returning his smile.

The situation is not so hopeless. You can make it work.

Once the merman is well settled, he tries to climb back into the bath on his own. You help him gently and he lets you touch him on his tail and shoulders, but when you try to touch his belly he slaps your hand away, wincing and glares at you in mistrust. He even pouts at you.

“I see. I'm sorry. I won't do it again,” you hold up your hand to indicate you're not a threat. But the wound is definitely a bigger threat than you if it's left untreated and gets infected.

“He won't let us bandage it.”

If you can't touch it, you have to do something about it. You don't know how mermaids regenerate, but if they're related to humans in any way, a wound like this is dangerous.

You're reminded of the article by the doctor who imagined claws on mermaids. “What if we... use osmosis? I read that salt water helps mermaids' wounds heal.”

“Sounds logical,” Donghyun nods. “We should try it.”

While he goes out to the sea with a bucket to fetch salt water, you sit on the stool next to the tub. The merman has calmed down, and is no longer giving you suspicious looks and shielding the wound from your touch. He begins to unload the shells on the edge of the tub. You watch him, fascinated, not even bothered by the fact that while you were helping him back in, your shirt, pants and socks got soaked.

“We can't call you a boy or a merman forever.”

The merman narrows his eyes, concentrates on what you're saying, wants to understand. Your heart beats in surprise as you try to communicate with another, gorgeous creature.

“What’s your name?”

He continues to stare, then tilts his head to the side as if giving up.

You lay your hand on your chest and slowly say your name. Then you point to him. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Only the fact that he understood you is incredible.

He shakes his head and dives under the water. Generates a big wave that splashes on your clothes and tiles, then trickles onto the soaking wet towels. Mopping up or changing into dry clothes seems less and less a sensible action. The boy's whole head disappears into the tub, then bubbles burst to the surface. Bubbles of air only, but their bubbling has a rhythm. They almost feel like speech as you listen to them.

Jjjhhuunn. Jjjehyyun.

He appears on the surface, blinking hopefully at you.

“Jaehyun?” you ask him.

He grins, happy and proud. Pretty, you think. Jaehyun is so pretty.

“I think it’s working,” Donghyun mutters, squinting into the water. It's the third day that Jaehyun is soaking in salt water in the hope that it will help his wound heal. “What is certain is that it isn’t infected, and—oh!”

Jaehyun steals Donghyun's glasses with a sudden movement and puts them on his nose. He immediately regrets it, his mouth forms a surprised 'o' and he quickly parts with the device, shaking his whole body as if he's experienced something terrible.

“I'm sure his eyes are fine,” you chuckle as Donghyun retrieves his glasses. He smiles and hums, wiping the lenses on his shirt, because these days it's impossible not to have water droplets everywhere in this room.

Jaehyun visibly relaxes. He waves his fins and slips away in the water, splashing a wave at you. It's beginning to feel like you two are living in the bathtub, too. He “swims” to you and holds out his palm, you put in the next seaweed, and Jaehyun attaches it to the bag he's making with practiced movements. So you and Donghyun assume he's working on a bag, like the one hanging on his chest. It could be a sort of thank-you gift.

In any case, whatever it is, it's good to see Jaehyun isn't bored. Because when he is bored, he has great ways of letting you know: he'll splash you on purpose or throw himself left and right in displeasure. You'll have to be creative to make him enjoy this little place. Turns out he loves small, colourful balls and music, and although he eats seaweed, he also uses it as a raw material for crafts.

As happily as he twirls seaweed around in his hands, it occurs to you too often that he's like a seal in a zoo here. He does tricks for food and is locked up.

Donghyun says that once you are sure his fins, belly and throat are healed, you can put him back in the water.

“I'm glad I could meet him and help him,” he sighs half asleep one night as you lie snuggled together, waiting for sleep, “but his place was never in our bathtub.”

“I'll miss him,” you confess.

“Me too,” your boyfriend acknowledges.

“He's the prettiest fish I've ever seen, even though you've taken me on dates to a lot of aquariums.”

Donghyun smiles fondly. “Maybe he really is the prettiest.”

Jaehyun is a fast learner. He quickly gets the hang of the language and nods or shakes his head in response. Donghyun learns a lot from him and is excited. He visualizes a book in front of him, the first valid fact-based mermaid literature he will author. You rejoice with him, and his excitement spreads to you.

Jaehyun is also curious, interested in everything. The first time you venture into the bathroom to brush your teeth, as Donghyun is washing up in the kitchen, Jaehyun leaps up from the water and when you refuse to pay attention to him, splashes your pajamas.

“Hey!” you look at him with a foaming mouth.

He bats his eyelashes innocently in response, but can barely hide his sly smile. Then he points at you and holds out his palm.

“This is my toothbrush. I use it to keep my teeth clean,” you explain.

He pokes at himself and tilts his head to the side.

“You can have one too, yes.”

The next day he gets a toothbrush and is really dedicated to keeping his teeth clean.

When the trash can is full of shell fragments and you can't remember how many times you've used the garden shower for a shower, Jaehyun finishes the seaweed gift. He has made two bags, as you thought.

“You really made them for us?”

Jaehyun nods. He tentatively holds out his work to you, his hands shaking. There is no reason to fear that you won't accept it. It's a special gift, a beautiful gesture. You both take it, and Jaehyun literally sighs. Then he flashes you his broadest smile and, of course, splashes out a lot of water.

“Thank you,” Donghyun says softly.

To express your gratitude, you immediately slip the strap around your neck, and stand up and turn around with your new bag.

Jaehyun grips the edge of the tub, eyes gleaming. You're scared he's about to throw himself out of the tub in happiness, but that's not the case. Something else is happening: he's twisting his ear membrane. You can't explain it any better than that. It turns out that the spiral-shaped part behind his ear has been a twisted membrane all along. Now the ear looks as if it has grown exotic flowers on both sides, held in place by tiny cartilages and glowing different shades of blue.

“Very pretty,” Donghyun murmurs in disbelief, and reaches for it.

Halfway through, he surely remembers that Jaehyun only lets you touch him when he can't position himself, and even then you can mainly touch his tail, not his other body parts. The ear, moreover, the part of it that has been hidden so far, may be a similar area to the skin of his belly, if not more private and sensitive. However, Donghyun cannot fully withdraw his hand because Jaehyun is almost plunging his face into it.

He closes his eyes and lets Donghyun gently pat his ear and stroke his cheek. Donghyung's soft palm, full of Jaehyun's soft cheek: that's new.

In the upcoming days, he isn't just letting you touch him, he expects it. It's like he's been completely replaced since he gave you his gift.

He needs to be touched.

He plays with your hands, probing the lack of membrane between your fingers. He presses your fingertips together. If you stroke his hair or let him lay his head on your palms, he opens his ear membrane. Donghyun's theory is that he does this because he feels safe. In this case, he can only theorise, because when he asks Jaehyun about it, he doesn't answer, only playfully splashing him.

Every time he strokes your cheek or touches your mouth, you feel weird. He's so engrossed in exploring your face that his lips part in the process, as if you're something so wonderful he can't get enough. And he maps Donghyun with a similar devotion.

Just as you admire Jaehyun's mermanity, he admires your humanity.

You say it means nothing. Jaehyun can't live in a bathtub. He gave you gifts and is curious, but that's all. Though Donghyun mutters about courtship and companionship in his sleep, he doesn't share his thoughts on the subject with you when awake. And even if he did, you wouldn't change your mind: you can't make excuses for why Jaehyun should stay when it's clear he doesn't belong here.

“Doesn't it hurt?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. The wound on his stomach has completely healed. So have his scales.

“And your throat?” Donghyun touches his own to show what he means. Jaehyun copies the gesture, then grimaces. “So it still hurts?”

Jaehyun nods.

“I'm sorry. But it's healing nicely. You can go home soon.”

As usual, the merman gets gloomy.

He doesn't talk about home, no matter what you ask. Perhaps he had wandered so close to the shore because he had nowhere else to go. But even if that's the case, the sea is much safer and more homely than the small bathtub in your house. The poor thing can only fit with his fins folded in half, and since he's been here he hasn't been able to swim properly or stretch out enough to do it in the tub, only on the ground for a few minutes and then be lifted back up.

Even if he wants to stay, it isn’t possible. He cannot live in captivity.

“Pretty,” Donghyun murmurs, still fascinated by the ear membranes. “So pretty…”

He strokes Jaehyun's cheek and you collect the shell fragments when Jaehyun uses his vocal cords for the first time.

“What... pretty?” he asks quietly, hoarsely. His eyes go wide with surprise at the sound of his own voice, then he arranges his features and waits for an answer.

“Which, when we see it, makes us happy.”

Jaehyun's lips form a tiny 'o'. He nods, indicating he understands.

“Pretty,” he says, looking Donghyun straight in the eye. Your boyfriend immediately blushes, and you smile at how cute he is. However, your turn also comes to embarrassment when Jaehyun next turns to you and says the same one word to you.

Suddenly everything goes wrong. The tub is covered with blue scales. They fall like leaves from a tree in autumn.

“What’s going on?”

“What's wrong?”

You're both kneeling by the tub, trying to figure out what to do. Is it a disease? Is it serious? You don't get an answer. Jaehyun isn't talking.

“We want to help you. Can we help you?”

Jaehyun looks at you uncertainly. He is being secretive.

“Please, Jaehyun. Trust us.”

“Will... Legs... For me,” he explains in a whisper, disjointed. He looks at you expectantly.

“How?”

“Legs,” he repeats.

“But why?”

“Home,” Jaehyun touches the bathtub. Then he takes your hand. “Home,” he says again. Finally, he touches Donghyun's hand too. “Home.”

You can't misunderstand that. Jaehyun won't go back to the sea because you are his home. And you don't need to enlarge your bathtub or buy a pool. He's adapting to his home environment because he wants to stay anyway.

“Home?” he asks, tears welling up in his eyes.

You've told him so many times to go home, to the sea, that he might think he isn’t welcome. But that's not it, you just didn't believe that he really wanted to stay, that it wasn't just you who wanted to keep him here for your own selfish reasons.

“You're home now.” Donghyun kisses Jaehyun's hand. “This is your home.”

“Our home,” you add.

Jaehyun is relieved. He sniffles and cries, but also smiles with joy. You hug him on both sides, hold his back, and you're so used to the water that you don't mind getting soaked, and of course you don't mind Jaehyun pressing his face tightly against your skin.

your likes, reblogs and comments are warmly welcomed! 💓thank you for being here!

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twst-drabbles · 9 months ago

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Malleus 17

Summary: Most of Malleus’s day is spent zoning out while bathing in sunlight. It’s always fun to see his little lizard brain occasionally spark up an idea.

(I used to have pet lizards. Loved the way their eyes convey the absolute emptiness going on in their brain.)

Malleus hasn’t blinked for the past hour. He just sits there, on the window sill, face turned towards the sunlight as he stared into the lush yard outside. From a certain angle, he almost looks forlorn, like a doll abandoned by the side of the road.

If Sebek was here, he’d certainly be fretting around Malleus, trying to snap him out whatever trance he was caught up in. And Silver would whisper his concerns into your ear, hoping you’d give him ideas as to what’s wrong with Malleus despite being his owner for longer. And Lilia, cute bat Lilia, he’d be trying to goad Malleus into playing a flying game with him just to get him moving.

You walked over, leaned against the window sill, and poked Malleus on the forehead. He didn’t so much as twitch, his eyes remain unblinking. You pushed your finger against his head and watched as he practically became a wobble doll. You let go and Malleus still body rocked back and forth until he was stable again.

Malleus was still staring off into the distance.

You snorted. “Not a thought behind those eyes, huh? Empty-headed little critter.”

Bathing in sunlight always does this to him, like the warmth of sun soothed all the chaos in his head into nothingness.

There’s nothing wrong with him, Malleus was just zoning out for the moment. He’ll be back online in a moment. It’s always entertaining to hear the way Silver describes him, like this little pet was some always caught up in some grand and mysterious scheme. A magical genius so smart that his thoughts escape everyone’s comprehension.

That’s not quite it thought. Malleus is Malleus, and he’s more the kind of pet to get stuck on one particular thought or subject for weeks on end. All pets have different phases and routines, and long-living fae pets such as Malleus were no exception. He’s just slower to get to the next phase.

You opened the window. The wind gently blew right past the both of you, guiding the falling leaves and gently caressing your curtains. You took a deep breath in, and sighed it out.

Suddenly, Malleus’s eyes snapped wide open, back stiff and wings jittery. Energetic, excited about something.

“Oh?” You lowered your head. “Did you get an idea?” Are the gears finally turning again in his brain.

You scratched at his soft belly scales and laughed when he practically launched himself out of your hand. He was practically a rocket as he shot out the window, barely more than a blur as he flew in a pattern only he knew.

This month’s obsession seems to be dizzying flight patterns. All because Malleus witnessed Lilia’s flying right after he finished eating some of Crowley’s fermented peaches.

After a round of unsteady figure eights, Malleus finished with a belly flop on the grass, as Lilia did before. He got up, cleaned himself off, and fly once more. He’s nothing if not determined, that’s for sure. Still, it’s hilarious that he spent the entire day zoning out at your house.

Sure, you were a little concerned when he first did it, but you figured it out soon enough. You did as you usually do and let the pets do their own thing.

Maybe that’s why Malleus likes to come over here often. You’ve never been much of a person that fusses. Unless they’re putting themselves in active danger, you’re not going to bother them every single second of their life.

Well, whatever the reason may be, it’s still made clear that your house is a place to zone out in. You know you do that often. And, you will admit, you love the way Malleus's eyes go all empty like that.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #diasomnia #malleus #malleus draconia #house pet au #reader insert

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annebrontesrequiem · 1 year ago

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Okay, so I saw Dune Part 2 and it was so very good.

Though I definitely felt the amount of cuts that had to be made, and the way it was simplified in some cases (see Feyd Rautha's birthday duel and how the subtext of the man being specifically drugged with a delayed agent was cut, making the scene in some ways much more straightforward). I'll have to reread the book especially before I really cement my feelings about Lady Jessica and the sheer amount her story was cut (no mention of her being a supposed spy and all that and the changes from cutting her inner monologue).

Still what Villeneuve does he does spectacularly. The two things that stood out the most were a. the sense of scale and b. the scale of tragedy.

The shifting around of plot points worked a lot more for me than I feared. Though at first I was worried about Paul's pseudo-training montage, it actually worked really well. Cutting between Paul becoming a fighter and member of Sietch Tabr, falling in love with Chani, getting dreams, etc. and the politics and perspectives of the other, bigger and more politically aware players, was a really good idea.

It gives you really the sense of how big the world is. Of how much Paul is struggling under the weight of it. Of how small it is to be one person. It filled me with such a sense of dread and anguish, which is pretty impressive considering how the book has a lot more pages and a very distinct writing style that conveys this sense of scale. But the movie really went for it, and from the great to the small, there's a sense of importance.

I like that Villeneuve delayed Paul's change in perspective until after he drinks the waters. This really emphasizes the change within him, and really ups the tragedy of his character. Seeing him seemingly capitulate so readily after all the agonizing he went through, the desperate attempt to stem the tide of the war that has already begun and which began the moment he stepped foot on Arrakis, it was really heartbreaking. It also helped with Jessica's characterization. You get to see how drinking the waters utterly changes you. And how Paul has accepted his fate, while still bearing all the pain of doing so.

I struggle with how bleak Dune as a book series is in some place. The movie really does tap into that. It's a tragedy through and through and while you hope so desperately that something will change, you are so staggered by the scope and scale of this struggle. By the scale of agony that is going to be wreaked on the universe. It's really phenomenal.

#dune #dune part 2 #dune part two #bern speaks

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nemo-in-wonderland · 5 months ago

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When you're done with all the strife When they echo the minds in the streets You know your heart beats A solitary call For a change in the tone of it all You'll be scaling that wall And the higher you climb The more you can see of this life On the edge of that knife

You hold on to me Hold on to me

And I'll be singing you Songs of tomorrow And then dawn will follow And our sorrows all undone

CHILDREN OF THE SUN - Poets of the Fall

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

hiyooo.

forgive the roughness of this artwork, it was all I had in me to do, tbh. Energies are kinda low lately, and I am finding hard to sit still and focus on stuff, but I kinda managed to finish this, and I am happy with how it turned out, all things considered.

ANYWAY.

If you remember my blabbering a good while back, I wrote a bit about Halsin and Aranea speaking about their babbu, Asra, and then started to draw a artwork with these two because fml yes.

I kinda went with my memories from when baby Nemo was born, and fml, what I remember the most was being completely exhausted after labouring for hours, so that's what I mostly tried to convey here.

Halsin was with Aranea all the way through, but fml, even he was exhausted afterwards, if anything because seeing Aranea in pain just had him on the edge, worried as hell. And it wasn't until Asra was born and started breathing of her own accord that he himself could draw a breath of relief.

fml, These two kinda destroyed my heart while I was working on this, while I was listening to this song, because fml, Halsin was ready to give her so much love, to embrace her strife as his own, to help her overcome all the pain she still carried within.

He was so ready. So freaking ready. And he loved her so much, I cannot even begin to say.

And Aranea was *terrified* by the intensity of his feelings toward her and the feelings she was felt for him.

And both of them were so young (I need to check my timeline, but I think that they were around 75 and 100 years of age?? I need to double check, because Aranea is not that much younger than Halsin).

And when she disappeared, leaving behind her crystal and her magic cloak for Asra and a letter that left him with more questions than answers, I think his heart kinda broke a bit.

I like to imagine that Halsin knew that Aranea was a Warlock, so he knew that she was soul bounded to a fiend.

But Aranea could not speak of who her Patron was, lest attract his attention and bring his ever knowing eyes on both him and Asra.

At this point in time, when Asra was born, Aranea was still very much in a business relationship with Mephisto, so we are talking Patron & Warlock rather than Patron/Warlock, but fml, Mephisto was already starting obsessing over his most elusive warlock.

So no way in freaking hell Aranea would bring his attention on Asra and Halsin.

So yeah, their relationship is a tad complicated.

I need a freaking what-if with these two.

I hope you will like this <3

--Nemo

(also, young halsin here is definitely inspired by @ozumii-fucking-wizard own design for Halsin because omg I just adore that design and I fell in love with him all over again thanks to that).

#Nemo Sketches #Halsin #Halsin Silverbough #BG3 #bg3 tav #OC: Aranea Baelfaer #OC: Asra Silverbough #My ocs #OC Lore #dnd #art #Drow #my art #gods I am so tired #the mental spoons are low #halsin x tav #halsin bg3

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dh1k · 1 month ago

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The joker sleeps alone

Angst I guess.

Walking through the dark streets, only one thought occupied his mind — “her.” He couldn’t stop thinking about her. This girl had burst into his life so abruptly and changed it for the better. But did Hisoka truly want that? He didn’t know the answer, and he wasn’t eager to dive headfirst into these new, somewhat romantic, relationships. Being attached to someone only added more problems—increased risk of attacks on a loved one, blackmail—and he didn’t need any of that. On the other hand, these were new sensations, the feeling of being needed, coming home to receive care and love.

These thoughts had been haunting Hisoka for two months now, and he still hadn’t decided what he truly wanted. The scales were balanced: care and love on one side, freedom and adrenaline on the other. He knew she wouldn’t be upset with him if he left, choosing freedom and killings. She knew he wasn’t the type to hold onto people, knew that sooner or later, he would leave anyway. But these reflections gave him no peace. With her, Morow had become softer, dedicating more time to her rather than to contracts and seeking opponents. Had he become more domestic?

Entering the apartment, he once again felt that warmth, that homely comfort, and there she was, already standing before him, and Hisoka hadn’t even noticed, so deep was he in his thoughts. Noticing his overly pensive look, she didn’t start asking questions, only quietly said:

“Dinner’s ready. If you want, you can go eat.” She knew better than to pry, but her gut told her that something was about to happen.

Hisoka merely glanced at her and blinked, conveying a sort of “okay.” While he was coming to his senses, she had already gone to the room. She truly knew him, not pushing to find out what was wrong. Any other girl would have already bombarded him with questions. Still, was it worth trading freedom for an ordinary life?

Entering the kitchen, he saw neatly arranged utensils and a plate with a very appetizing dish. He was always amazed at how she guessed the time of his arrival home, as it was always different, but that was somewhat endearing. Dinner was always warm; he never came home to cold food.

After cleaning up, he went to the bathroom. He hoped that a cold shower would invigorate him and wash away all these tangled thoughts. Indeed, he felt better, but that imaginary scale remained in his mind.

In the room, a dim light was on; she sat on her side of the bed reading a book. Looking up at him, she just smiled. That smile warmed his soul, and Morow, without thinking, responded in kind. It slightly eased the atmosphere, but tension emanating from Hisoka was palpable. Should he say something? He didn’t know. He simply walked deeper into the room and lay on his side of the bed, propping his head with his hand, watching her. She was beautiful, but was she beautiful enough to give up what he was passionate about?

Hisoka’s gaze was too intense, and unable to bear it, she closed the book and set it aside. Looking at him, she began to notice that his gaze was very lost; she had never seen him like this before. His whole body was tense and strained; there was no more of that relaxation and self-confidence. Not a single tease in her direction, he didn’t try to cuddle with her. As if he had been replaced. The thought immediately flashed through her mind that this was probably the end. Although she knew it would happen, she just didn’t think it would be so soon. He lasted six months, but even that made her happy; after all, he gave her unforgettable emotions.

“I’m probably going to leave,” Hisoka finally spoke, “for good.”

Her reaction was just as he expected:

“Okay, maybe that’s better for both of us,” she quietly said.

Receiving a nod in response, Morow decided to enjoy this warmth one last time and embraced her. She leaned against his chest, understanding that this was the last time they would sleep together, the last night together. Pulling away for a second, she turned off the lamp and snuggled back to him. Each was lost in their own thoughts—Hisoka pondering if this was the right decision, and she… just hoping he made the right choice and wouldn’t regret it, because once he left, she would disappear too. With these thoughts, they fell asleep.

In the morning, she woke up alone. His scent still lingered in the apartment, but that wasn’t so important, as she would soon move out as well. She would vanish somewhere in this vast world, and he wouldn’t know anything about her.

Leaving her apartment, Hisoka didn’t think about anything; he knew that now he would just return to his quarters in the Heavens Arena, and everything would go back to the way it was.

As much as they might not want to, they would occasionally recall the moments spent together. Their first date, which ended with a run from the police. Their card games, where she constantly lost. How she tried to replicate Hisoka’s makeup but couldn’t get it right. Sharp jokes, sarcasm, amusing nicknames—all of that would forever remain in their memories. But most importantly, neither of them would regret the decision to part ways.

#anime #hunter x hunter #hisoka x reader #hisoka #angst

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proudahgase-exol · 9 months ago

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A kind helper ♡

S coups x reader

Summary: you find an injured snake and you help him get better and he became your friend.

Requested: yes

༺♥︎༻❀༺♥︎༻

one day you were at the frozen lake waiting for the beautiful white dragon to appear but after a few hours, he didn't so you went to look for him and found him turned into his snake from injured so you took him home to get him back to health.*

“hey buddy I'll take you home and bring you back to health,” I said taking him in my hands.

the snake was still unconscious but it was clear that he was hurt badly. you picked him up and started to carry him home.

he was surprisingly light, even in his snake form, but you could feel the warmth of his scales against your skin

when you got home, you gently laid him down on a soft cushion and started to tend to his injuries, carefully cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

he began to stir slightly, slowly waking up from his unconscious state. He looked around, confused and disoriented before his eyes landed on you.

he looked at you with a mix of confusion and gratitude, his snake eyes fixed on you as he tried to understand what was going on

he attempted to move but winced in pain as he realized the extent of his injuries. He let out a soft hiss, clearly uncomfortable.

“Hey hey take it easy” I told him as I saw him move.

he looked up at you, his snake eyes meeting yours. He seemed to understand your words and slowly relaxed, although he still looked in pain.

he looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. He seemed to realize that he was no longer at the frozen lake and was now in a stranger's home.

“You are in my home safe and sound I won't hurt you okay so you can relax,” I told him trying to keep him calm.

he slowly lifted his head, his eyes still fixed on you. He seemed to be trying to communicate with you, but it was clear that he couldn't speak in his current form

he let out a soft hiss, clearly frustrated that he couldn't communicate. He tried to move again, but the pain was too much and he let out a whimper.

“Hey it's okay don't move too much or you'll make it hurt worse and you won't heal fast,” I said worried about him as I saw him move.

he nodded again, understanding your words. He tried to stay still, but he couldn't help but shift slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position.

he looked at you with a pleading expression, as if he was asking for something

he tried to speak again, but only managed to let out a series of hisses. He seemed to be trying to convey a message, but the language barrier was preventing him from doing so.

“I read about your kind and you can turn into a human is that true? Can you do it?” I was hoping it was true.

he looked at you with surprise, as if he wasn't expecting you to know about his ability. He hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly, indicating that he could indeed turn into a human.

he closed his eyes and focused, and in a flash of light, he transformed into a human. He was now lying on the cushion, looking up at you with a mixture of relief and pain on his face.

“Hey there let me get you a warm blanket,” I said getting up to bring him a blanket

he nodded weakly, grateful for the warmth and comfort. He tried to sit up, but winced in pain again, his body still weak from his injuries

“Here you go” I said giving him the blanket.

he accepted the blanket gratefully, wrapping it around himself. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of vulnerability

"Thank you..." he replied shyly

“You're welcome,” I said warmly

he took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts

"I...I don't know how to thank you for helping me. I don't even know your name...” he said confused for my actions.

“Its nothing really I'm happy to help by the way my name is y/n” I said smiling

*he managed a small smile, despite the pain he was in*

"I'm Seungcheol...but most people call me S.Coups.” he replied back

“Nice to meet you” I said smiling still.

*he nodded, wincing slightly as he did so*

“Nice to meet you too...though I wish it were under better circumstances..." he replied in a soft smile

“Yeah me too” I said

he looked down at his bandaged wounds, examining them carefully

"How bad are they...?” he asked worriedly

“It's not too bad you have a few scratches and a knife stab wound but it's not deep,” I reassured him

he let out a sigh of relief

"Thank god...I was worried it was worse. How did you find me anyway...?” he asked me curiosity

“Well, I love seeing you fly around I am always going to the frozen lake to watch you but today I didn't see you and I got worried so I went out to look for you,” I told him truthfully

"You...watch me fly around? You like watching me...?” he looked surprised

“Yeah, I do I just find you fascinating in your dragon form.” I replied

he blushed slightly, clearly not used to being complimented

"Oh...I see...well, I'm glad you like watching me. But you didn't have to go looking for me...it was dangerous...”

“Yeah I know but I was worried” I said honestly

"You didn't have to worry about me...but I appreciate it. I'm glad you found me and brought me here...” he smiled softly, touched by your concern

“Yeah, no problem. But may I ask what happened? Why did you get hurt?” I asked curiously

"I...got into a fight with another dragon. He was trying to take over my territory and I refused to give it up...” he looked away, a pained expression on his face

“Oh I understand” I said worried

"Yeah...it was a tough fight. I managed to win in the end, but not without some injuries” he nodded, still looking down

“Be careful next time please,” I told him seriously

"I'll try my best...but it's not easy when you have to defend your territory. Dragons can be very territorial, you know” he chuckled softly, wincing slightly at the pain

“Yeah I can imagine,” I said still worried

"You're really nice, you know that? Not many people would go out of their way to help a dragon like this..." he leaned back against the cushion, his eyes still on you

“Yeah I guess I have a soft spot” I said smiling

"A soft spot for dragons, huh? I'm honored to be the one who gets to take advantage of it” he smiled, his expression softening

“Yeah your lucky huh” I replied

"I suppose I am...but don't get me wrong, I'm not just using you for your kindness. I genuinely appreciate what you're doing for me.” he chuckled again, this time without wincing

“Yeah I know don't worry” I said smiling softly

"You're a good person, y/n. I can tell. Not many people would take in a hurt dragon and tend to their wounds like this” he reached out and gently touched your hand

“Yeah I know but I'm different.” I said Inna small laugh

"Different how?” he looked at you with curiosity

“I care about creatures like you. Others would either try to kill you or run away” I replied honestly

"You care about creatures like me...even though I'm a dragon? But aren't we supposed to be feared and hunted.?” he looked surprised

“Yeah but I don't think you should be hunted, you deserve to live just as much as I do” I said sadly

"You really think that...? That we deserve to live just like humans...?” he was taken aback by your words. He had never met anyone who saw dragons as equals before.

“Yeah, I do. Some dragons are mean but there are some who just don't mess around humans like you.”

"You're the first person I've ever met who sees us that way. Most people just see us as monsters” he looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and wonder

“Well I have a different point of view and I love to learn about your kind its fascinating,” I said proudly

"I can tell. Most people are scared of us, but you seem genuinely interested in learning more about us.” he smiled, clearly intrigued by your fascination with dragons.

“Okay. So are you hungry? I can make you some warm soup?” I asked

"Yeah, I'm starving. Soup sounds great, thank you” he looked up at you, his stomach growling at the mention of food.

“Okay I'll go get some wait here,” I said getting up and walking to the kitchen.

Once I finished cooking I went to get him and help him get up and into the kitchen to eat. We both eat having a small conversation and getting to know each other more.

he devoured the soup, clearly enjoying every bite. As you talked, he asked you questions about your life and interests, eager to learn more about you

༺♥︎༻❀༺♥︎༻

a few days pass and he was healed and ready to go.

he stretched his limbs, feeling the soreness in his muscles fade away. He was finally fully healed and ready to leave

"Thank you again for taking care of me, y/n. I don't know how I'll ever repay you for what you've done..."

“Yeah, no problem It's a pleasure to help you out,” I said happy for his recovery.

he stood up, wincing slightly as he put weight on his injured leg

"I should probably get going...but I'll come back and visit you if that's okay?” he asked hopefully

“Yeah of course you're welcome here any time you like.” I replied

"Thank you. I'll make sure to stop by again soon. Maybe I can show you some of my dragon tricks.”he smiled, clearly happy to hear that

“Yeah I'll look forward to that”

he walked over to the window, looking out at the world outside

"I'll see you later then. Take care, y/n..."

“You too Seungcheol!” I said ready missing him

he turned back to look at you one last time, a soft smile on his face

"Goodbye, y/n..”

he climbed out the window and transformed into his dragon form, taking to the skies. He looked back one last time, waving a wing in farewell before flying off into the distance

After that, it was a while after I saw him again. I did see him fly around the sky and I loved watching him. I was so glad I got to help him out and now we are good friends.

#svt scoups #svt seungcheol #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt fanfic #svt imagines #scoups x reader #scoups x y/n #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you

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mustelidsinlove · 6 months ago

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Détraquée by Hystaracal on AO3

"All her growth was the conveying of a corpse of hope." (From 'The Rainbow', D.H. Lawrence) This is a story about coming into one's own, a meditation on the twilight of girlhood and the violence of crash-landing into womanhood. Follow Hermione as she navigates through the quagmire: Saving the world, getting top grades, falling in love, lust, and a whole lot of trouble, and comes out of it hopefully (at least) partially sane.

The process of not hating him had been like scaling a wall with no purchase. It was an obstacle so high and harrowing, she couldn’t see the top. All her focus was on scaling the damn thing without causing any casualties. How was she supposed to have known that there was no even ground on the other side either; that, in fact, there was nowhere to land at all? How the bloody fuck could she have guessed that on the other side, there was only an endless plunge... A perpetual freefall. Permanent, amplified vertigo. // For so excruciatingly long, she had been helpless against life’s circles, always spinning, spiralling, and circuiting. Draco had picked her up and carried her to the sun. They were in the white-hot centre of it all, the point of burning stillness, and everything revolved around them. // Hermione straightened and began to walk. The Spectre of Time trailed behind her. But what was life if not a constant spate of dying? Each second marked its own death. Each death was marked by the footfalls of the Spectre; by the beat of her pulse. // If feelings were quantifiable, if she could pick them up, shake them free of impurities and guises, and compare them on a weighing balance, Hermione would have demonstrated what she knew for sure — that she had been resented more than she had been loved. // “Y’know what, Hermione,” [Harry] slurred, “You’re my four brothers and a sister.”

An absolutely gorgeous celebration of and love letter to Hermione — and the banality and weight of life and growing up. A fic like no other, whose breadth and depth are unparalleled and whose story is inextricable from its form and style. It requires complete surrender from its reader, but if you can give yourself up to it and its "gentle" Hermione (who nevertheless steamrollers you with the volume and intensity of her narration), the reward is immense: humor, pathos, angst, pining, joy, and a deliciously posh, arsehole Draco. Hermione's life is much more complete here than in many fics. Her social circle is large (many more Gryffindors get characterization and page-space here than is usual in Dramione), her job well-imagined (this is one of the best and most realistic portrayals of wizarding politics and Hermione's job in Dramione), her parents are complex, fully-realized characters, and the young adult wizarding world she lives in is expansive.

Art: Girl with a Hole in her Stocking, Michael Thompson, 2008

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#détraquée #hystaracal #dramione #dramione fic rec #hp fic rec #fic cover #fanfic cover #draco x hermione #dhr #fic rec #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #dramione fic cover #book cover #mustelid covers

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years ago

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Headcanons for Clive Rosfield with gn s/o reassuring him that he's a good man who does his best to help people despite everything he has gone through, they're proud of him, and they love him so much? With hugs and kisses too!

Clive Rosfield had to be one of, if not the most strongest man you’ve ever met in your life.

Yet you’ve found that the stronger the man, the more broken they seemed to be in due to certain circumstances that happened within their past.

A past that could still be felt to this very day as it clung onto your beloved’s soul, it’s claws digging in deep into him that you worried that you’d deal him more damage if you were to pull them out raw.

You wanted nothing more then to help your exhausted lover and thankfully a time did come where Clive needed your comfort and sweet words and even sweeter reminders the most in the aftermath of a nightmare;

‘What if I’m an omen of death, destined to leave a trail of dead bodies, friends and foes alike in my wake?’ Clive admitted to you under starry skies. Yet despite how ethereal the sight above was…the topic at hand was anything but. ‘What if by the end of this I wouldn’t have had you gravely harmed, whether it’d be by my hand or others because of me.’ He adds sombrely, clutching your hand when he felt it involuntarily twitch.

‘I don’t want to have to watch that day come to pass.’ Clive was whispering now as though if he raised his voice any louder then something awful would take place, and it wouldn’t even matter whether the inherent danger were to take place five minutes from your conversation or even going as far as five weeks.

For as long as Clive could sense danger, he would always on a subconscious have himself somehow incorporated into it one way or another. He truly felt the one to blame for every wrongdoing that was committed no matter the scale of it, he just felt as though all bad things tie back to him in even the most minuscule ways.

‘Clive,’ you gripped his hand tightly, ‘not everything bad is inherently your fault.’ You told him but you weren’t finished yet. ‘You’re a good man, regardless of what the past speaks of your character. You’ve done a whole lot of good since those dark times and done a whole lot of good for the people who felt as though they had no hope to hold onto, Who felt like they too were deserving of the wrongdoings that have happened in their pasts because they felt as though they didn’t deserve better.’ You raised his hand and pressed a dozen kisses against the skin there as you decided to hold his hand close to your chest.

‘You’re a good man Clive Rosfield and I will not stand in hearing you slander yourself on the pretences of lies and falsehoods.’ You said as you tug him closer so you could bring your arms to hold him against you as you began to speak your words against his ebony locks. ‘For the Clive Rosfield I know is a brave, strong man of many talents, and he’s a beautiful man with a gentle, kind and caring heart.’ You felt Clive relax further into you, as though attempting to drown himself in your warmth and your scent with how he noses it’s way from against your collar bone, and upwards until his head is firmly flushed against your neck where he would then find comfort in your pulse point as his eyes began to drift off at the sound of your soothing voice.

A voice Clive would rather die then to never hear again, whispering sweet enchantments that you call encouragement into his ear.

‘And I am proud, so very proud of my Clive that neither words nor any form of expression can begin to accurately convey of the magnitude of how proud I am of him.’ You whispered sweetly, pressed kisses now and then again his hair or any form of exposed warm skin that was within your lips reach to douse in a plethora of kisses, leaving not a spec untouched by your lips, and even as you pulled away, you could feel Clive’s body writhe as it began to desperately miss your lips; considering how determined your beloved seemed to press himself further up against you, you’d think that he was trying to imprint himself onto you in some form of way.

‘His demons may want him to claim otherwise but I wish for him to remember that he isn’t what they say he is, Clive Rosfield isn’t a monster, nor a death omen, but I know my Clive Rosfield and my Clive Rosefield is anything and everything but those words. He’s generous, brave, bold, and yes I do have to admit, a little stubborn and hardheaded.’ You admitted, chuckling as Clive removed his head from your neck to give you a look. ‘But, even though he may often claim that he’s putting me in danger just for loving him.’

You pressed your forehead against his, nudging your nose against his, smiling when he wordlessly reciprocated the action. ‘I’ve never felt more safer then I ever have then within his arms.’ You muttered against his lips before closing the gap and kissing every ounce of love and affection you held for Clive into that kiss in hopes it’d make its way to his soul. Humming in delight as you felt him practically bruise your lips with the force of his kiss that burned with a fierce passion that at some points you felt as though you couldn’t keep up with him.

You knew Clive had a whole lot of love to give to the point where it became overwhelming and consumed every action he did, from the way he protected others, to the way he was currently holding onto you as though you were the last flicker of light in his life; which you might as well be. His grip was firm and strong but while also being gentle and cautious as not to bring you bodily harm, because god knows Clive would never forgive himself if he was the main reason you were hurt, as proven multiple times where you had gotten hurt saving his ass and you’d awaken up with Clive at bedside, holding your hand within his larger and warmer ones; it felt as though your hand was trapped within the depths of a campfire. Comforting and warm.

‘What have I done to deserve you, my love?’ Clive whispered against your lips upon pulling away but consciously choosing to stay within proximity of you in hopes that your words and love would continue to rub off on him like they have for as long as you both been lovers. You smiled, bringing your hands up to his scruffy jaw, enjoying the prickly sensation that kissed the pads of your fingertips deliciously. ‘You were just yourself my star, I was just merely captivated by your beauty and the way you treated others as equals and fell deeply in love ever since.’

‘What about now?’ Clive asked you.

You pecked his lips, ‘I’m still falling my star, I’m still falling.’

#ffxvi imagine #ffxvi imagines #ffxvi x reader #ffxvi x you #clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield imagines #Clive rosfield imagine #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy x you #final fantasy imagines #final fantasy 16 x reader #final fantasy 16 imagines #final fantasy 16 x you #final fantasy 16 imagine #final fantasy imagine

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utilitycaster · 6 months ago

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I can’t help but feel that the people who are complaining about the people criticizing this campaign are the types that are going to be pissed if BH does just kill Predathos and lets the gods live, especially if that comes at the cost of some supposed deserved happy ending for their faves. And what’s maybe ironic is that I feel that an ending in which BH choses to save the gods, the campaign does rise a bit in my esteem, and might in the eyes of some other critics as well, as it would, i dunno, maybe play into these themes of forgiveness and love and overcoming resentment that keep being used as a defense of this campaign and these characters?

Anyway, godspeed on the quest to find good faith arguments on why this campaign is excellent. would genuinely like to see one.

Oh definitely. Like...look. I hope I conveyed the point of "I don't particularly think either of us are approaching this with a deep respect for the other, but we can at least make a polite fiction of good faith that, if you actually can come up with an argument that assumes that, I will accept in genuine good faith" and so in that interest I'm trying to scale back on attacking people. But also...I've been down this road before. When people complained about how bad Campaign 2 was, firstly, it specifically took hold either right after a ship competing with theirs became canon or at least was strongly hinted towards; or was in response to Molly not coming back; and secondly a lot of this happened after they'd been effusive in their praise for the campaign up until that point. Whereas for Campaign 3 you can, if you actually wished to do the research, go to my blog or most of my mutuals' blogs and do an archive dig and trace the optimism and excitement turning into skepticism turning into "yeah, this ain't it chief" with fairly consistent complaints (poor pacing, plot-character mismatches, indecision, failure of the characters to ever really challenge each other meaningfully in a way that leads to growth) throughout, coupled with, if I am being honest, a massive deal of grace and patience and "maybe this is the course correction" that was not always earned. Dorym becoming canon did not shift this among the many people who like Dorym and also think the campaign isn't very good, myself included, so I don't really think it's shipping wank that's the problem. I'm not inclined to respect arguments that either, 118 episodes into a campaign that's very close to its end, demand I consider its ~potential~. I have. It has, for the most part, failed to deliver over the course of those 118 episodes.

If a common complaint within the fandom of people who have watched hundreds of hours of this story is "it's unclear what story it is telling and the party is aimless" and small pockets and echo chambers are like NO YOU DON'T GET IT...I don't want to say its impossible for this to happen and that the majority is automatically correct, but were I an outside observer I know where I'd place money in a bet.

And yes, I agree. I think a lot of of the people defending it are either, to be very blunt, in a sunk cost fallacy situation/dedicated to a certain level of contrarianism more so than having their own opinions that exist independent of the fandom; or believe it will give them a happy ending for their faves or validate their belief the gods should die or they just want Exandria to burn at this point for whatever reason. I don't feel it's actually something that follows from the narrative, which, as this post so aptly puts, is just kind of sailing towards the rocks while the crew sort of bickers and doesn't do anything. It feels like the most satisfying endings possible are either achieving what the gods couldn't and destroying this existential threat for once and for all (in which case the gods survive, and hey, they actually did take a third option that no one was really talking about, the indecision was still boring as fuck but at least there's a scrap of payoff), or tragedy befalling them (loss of party members, killing a large swath of Exandria) as a consequence. And neither of those are what they want, which is like. the abstract concept of change and the less abstract and deeply unflattering concept of killing everyone who didn't give you what you wanted.

It is in fact unsurprising that the arguments in the fandom are the way they are. Wow I wonder why people who think "I asked this person for something and they didn't answer so I think letting loose an endless hunger entity to eat them" is a good and noble thing to do can't handle the idea that existing in the world means you and things you like will receive criticism, and other people won't just do what you want if you whine loudly enough.

#answered #anonymous #cr tag

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nugromancer · 7 months ago

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Veilguard Photodump (Spoiler Edition)

End Game Spoilers (mostly me gushing ab art direction (￣y▽,￣)╭ ) under the cut

I can't get over how stunning the light and colour design is in this game. Funniest thing I noticed was that, while treading through any area, there were a lot of very obvious "Photo Opportunities" where the map designer was like Hey. Hey. Come over here for this little bit of treasure haha. Oooohhh but maybe you can take a moment to enjoy the view? (we worked so hard on it please look pleasepleapspslelpeas) And it's banger after banger of beautiful scenery!

I want to get on this level where I can convey something so gd big. It's much more obvious how massive a Titan is when Rook is in frame, but even without, that's a big lad!!! Huge sucker for a good cloud cap that lets the sun peak through. Literal Silver Lining.

This shot from the end of the Corruption questline (and if you complete the Dreadwolf's Memories + Convince Mythal to help) is great. Like our lady's dragon form is beautifully lit, she's got a spotlight and everything!! And it looks natural. It looks like the sun managed to poke through the blight on this one place.

Also allow me to giggle and kick my feet because not only does Dragon!Mythal's design FUCK (look at that tri-crown horn formation like YEEESSSSSS THAT'S MY BITCH!!!!)

She's also PINK AND PURPLE?? LIKE HELLO??? The lighting is absolutely saturating her scales (plus she's breathing lightning, which glows violet/blue, adding to the effect) so it's brighter than it probably is. But what a fantastic coloration none-the-less!!

End-game Arc doesn't fuck around either. The gold ring from the eclipse against that eye-searing magenta is just. Augh. Ough. Foreboding has never looked so damn pretty.

(Also this general area is one of my favourite places in the Lighthouse. The lighting is just so on point. I have a dozen other photos of this section bc I always stop to admire it lmao.)

That magenta is striking. You'd expect it to be solid red across the board! But once we're in the "real" world we get those warmer tones you would normally associate with this sort of thing... But now that I think ab it, it's probably from the amount of smoke rising from the antaam encampment. The Crossroads don't have pollution! Of course it'd be more jewel-toned! I wonder what our sunsets would look like if there was less of that. Sigh. Anyways--

The Regret Prison. Probably my favourite sequence in the game. Yes I love colour, but let's not forget CONTRAST.

It's soooo easy it end up with a horrible clashing of shapes if you don't balance contrast. So you gotta Contrast the Contrast... by reducing the Contrast. Yes there's depth-of-field shenanigans (making lines blur the farther from the viewpoint they are) but there's also mist/dust/atmosphere. I love this shit.

Not to mention that subtle introduction of colour by incorporating greenery (still heavily desaturated, as to not be glaring/distracting) as you make your way through the map. Like. The starting area was desolate and devoid of life. Any plants you saw were dead. Bare-bone roots. But as your proceed you find Life scattered around. Hope.

I didn't get a proper shot/video clip of the end sequence for this quest, where you're walking across a barren expanse and can see the ritual sight erect itself piece by piece in the distance as you get closer. That sequence knocked me out it was so fucking good!!! To the person(s) who all made that happen, I'm sending them a big sloppy kiss on the cheek it was so elegantly executed. <333

Anyways I feel like I said a lot without saying anything at all but hopefully this was somewhat interesting to someone thank you for coming to my TEDtalk <3

#veilguard #dragon age #datv #veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #megs monologues

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brunettedelulu · 9 months ago

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The Timeless Divas of the Arab World: Icons of Culture and Power.

The Arab world has produced an array of legendary divas whose influence transcends borders and generations. From the enchanting voices of classical music to the bold icons of modernity, these women have shaped Arab culture while challenging societal norms. Their contributions to music, cinema, and even political movements have left an indelible mark not just in the Middle East, but globally. Let’s explore the rich tapestry of the most influential Arab divas whose legacies endure today.

Umm Kulthum: The Voice of Egypt

Often referred to as “Kawkab al-Sharq” (Star of the East), Umm Kulthum’s impact on Arabic music is unparalleled. Born in Egypt at the turn of the 20th century, her powerful voice and unique ability to convey deep emotions made her a beloved figure throughout the Arab world. Her music, grounded in traditional Arabic scales yet modern in its approach, was a source of unity in a politically fragmented region. With songs like Al-Atlal and Enta Omri, Umm Kulthum became not just a cultural figure but a symbol of Arab identity and pride.

Her monthly radio performances in the mid-20th century would bring cities to a standstill. It wasn’t just her mastery of Arabic maqam or her exceptional vocal control that captivated audiences; it was her ability to tell the story of an entire nation through music. She remains an iconic figure, revered across generations as the quintessential Arab diva.

Fairuz: The Eternal Voice of Lebanon

Fairuz, known as the “Jewel of Lebanon,” emerged during a period of immense political upheaval in the Arab world. Her music became synonymous with the resilience and beauty of Lebanon, particularly during the Lebanese Civil War. Her collaboration with the Rahbani Brothers produced timeless classics that blended Western influences with Arabic tradition, a reflection of the cultural crossroads that Beirut represents.

Fairuz’s voice, often described as ethereal, manages to evoke both nostalgia and hope. Her songs like Bint El Shalabiya and Le Beirut are as much personal odes as they are collective anthems for displaced populations and war-torn regions. Today, Fairuz’s music serves as a bridge between the past and present, her voice still celebrated across the Arab diaspora.

Asmahan: The Tragic Diva

Asmahan, born to a Syrian Druze family in 1912, had a short but highly influential career. Her life was the stuff of legend—drama, intrigue, and an untimely death at the age of 31. With a voice that could effortlessly glide between classical Arabic music and Western operatic styles, Asmahan’s songs reflected the complex identity of a woman navigating multiple cultural worlds. She captivated audiences with songs like Ya Habibi Ta’ala and her starring roles in Egyptian cinema.

Her mysterious death in a car accident has only added to her allure, sparking countless theories and immortalizing her as one of the most enigmatic figures in Arab entertainment history. Her legacy lies in her versatility, her ability to cross genres, and her willingness to push against the confines of traditional gender roles in a conservative society.

Modern Divas: Sherine and Majida El Roumi

The modern Arab world continues to produce iconic divas who both respect tradition and embrace contemporary trends. Sherine Abdel-Wahab, with her dynamic voice and bold personality, has risen to become a pop sensation across the Arab world. Her music blends traditional Egyptian rhythms with modern pop, making her a standout in today’s competitive industry.

On the other end of the spectrum is Majida El Roumi, whose operatic voice and commitment to classical Arabic music have earned her a loyal fanbase. Majida’s songs are marked by their poetic depth and social consciousness, making her not just an entertainer but a cultural commentator.

Divas as Cultural Icons

The influence of Arab divas goes beyond their musical talents. They are symbols of cultural resilience, often representing the hopes and struggles of their respective countries. Whether through their music, public personas, or political engagements, these women have consistently broken barriers, offering an empowering narrative for future generations.

In a region where social and political upheavals are commonplace, the Arab diva stands as a beacon of continuity, a reminder of the region’s rich cultural heritage. Their voices, whether mournful or joyous, continue to resonate with millions, proving that the power of music knows no bounds.

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grayskies2525 · 8 days ago

Text

A Year of Falling | Ben & Arlo | M/M | Chapter 9

Word Count: 7,500

Link to all parts: A Year of Falling

Chapter Nine: July – “Just Allergies” (cont)

It’s around 5 pm when Ben and Arlo arrive at Felix and Connor’s small, but generously decorated, brick house. The sun is still shining brightly, illuminating the pollen scattered all over Connor and Felix’s cars, as well as the front porch railing. Ben cringes at the sight.

When Felix opens the door of his house to greet Ben and Arlo, Ben immediately snaps forward to smother a sneeze into his elbow.

Great start.

He runs a finger underneath his nose in a useless attempt to ease the tickle still there. He sniffles and gives Felix a smile that he hopes carries no sign of the sheer exhaustion taking hold of him.

Felix's eyes narrow slightly. “Cold or pollen?” he asks.

Ben, distracted by his nose, gives into the urge to scrub at it again. Felix’s question only reaches the surface of his brain, rendering him incapable of processing the words. So, he frowns and gives Felix a confused “What?” before resuming his nose rubbing.

Felix lets out a long sigh. “Are you about to bring germs into my house, or is your body just overreacting to trees and grass again?”

Just hearing the word “grass” tickles Ben’s nose, causing him to cover another sneeze with his elbow. “The, uh, the second one,” he says with a heavy sniffle. “My immune system obviously thinks gr — grahhh — aHH’tSHHuuuhh! Ugh. I can’t even say the word. I’m trying to say my immune system thinks g-r-a-s-s,” he says, spelling out the word before continuing, “warrants a full-scale attack. Well, any kind of pollen, I guess. Fuck, I don’t even know. At this point, I think I’m just allergic to everything,” Ben says, shifting his face rubbing efforts to his eyes instead of nose.

Ben’s eyes are watering so fiercely that he can’t make out anything clearly. But he sees a large, gray, vaguely couch-shaped blur so he strides toward it and all but collapses onto it.

“Felix,” Ben begins before giving a big sniff. “I think it’s your house I’m allergic to,” he continues, wiping his now streaming eyes with his hand. “It wasn’t this bad before I stepped in.”

Ben feels a sudden warmth against his thigh and smiles when he sees Arlo’s sat down next to him, their legs touching.

“Stop with the dramatics. You’ve been in my house for barely two seconds. You’re ‘not getting worse,’” Felix says, rolling his eyes.

Ben is glad Connor walks in at that moment, diverting Felix’s attention away from further teasing Ben.

Connor gives Felix a quick kiss before looking over and nodding at Ben and Arlo. “Hey, you two.”

Ben sniffles and gives some sort of vague hand gesture in acknowledgement of Connor’s greeting. He hears Arlo say something softly but Ben’s too busy sneezing into his elbow to discern the exact words.

“Sick again?” Connor asks.

Ben weakly lifts his head and meets Connor’s gaze. “No, it’s been, like, forever since I’ve been sick. It’s just allergies.” At this point, Ben figures he could really benefit from a t-shirt with that phrase across it.

“Want some Benadryl? We keep some around because sometimes I use it to help me sleep,” Connor offers.

“No, babe, he can’t take that stuff, remember? Ben’s a little weakling whose body can’t handle a simple antihistamine,” Felix says, his tone teasing.

Ben would roll his eyes, or at least narrow them, but he’s too exhausted. “They give me migraines,” he tells Connor. Connor’s grimacing expression tells Ben he understands why trading off a sneezy and runny nose for a horrendous headache and nausea isn’t worth it.

“That really sucks, sorry,” Connor says.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Ben says in a tone conveying how decidedly not fine it actually is. “I can handle it. I’ll resort to other remedies. Like steam, or better yet, dunking my head into a sinkful of warm water and keeping it there until I just fucking die,” Ben says, scrunching his itchy eyes shut.

Ben looks up to see all eyes staring at him in evident concern. “What?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

Arlo places a hand on Ben’s thigh and rubs it in a soothing gesture. “You sound pretty miserable, is all,” he says softly.

“Nooooo, but I don’t want to sound miserable,” he whines.

He hears a mix of snorts and chuckles and then Felix say “You can go home, you know? Nowhere in the best friend contract does it state that you are required to attend every single 4th of July celebration.”

“But I don’t want to go home. I’m not even sick! It’s so frustrating because there’s nothing even wrong! At least when I’m sick, it makes sense to sneeze and to feel like shit. Because there’s a virus inside me or whatever. But allergies? They’re so stupid.” Ben’s aware he sounds like a petulant child, but he’s unable to resist continuing. “Like, how do I tell my body that pollen doesn’t actually pose a danger? And nobody better say ‘oh just take an antihistamine” because I swear to god.” He’s distantly aware his heartbeat has started to pick up speed and he’s raising his voice more than one typically does over the topic of allergies. “It doesn’t even matter. Because I’m fine. It’s just some sneezing, a runny nose, and itchy…well, itchy everything. But it’s fine. I’m perfectly capable of still having fun,” Ben says even as he feels his nose begin to twitch again.

He ducks his head into his arm. “ATdzschuuuh! AdTSCHUHHhhuhh! Goddamnit, I’m going to commit murder!”

“Yay, so glad you’re here, Ben,” Felix says, sardonically. “What a delight it is for us to have you here when you’re in such an obviously great mood. I just can’t wait to spend the evening with —”

Ben can’t let him keep going. “Shut up, Felix. I, in fact, am in a great mood. Mind over matter, right?”

“God, you sound like Connor. And I don’t think that phrase applies to allergies, but you can knock yourself out trying to make it work if that’s what you really want. Just stay away from me while you do it,” Felix says, flashing Ben a smile before grabbing Connor’s hand to pull him away to, presumably, get stuff ready before everyone else comes over.

“You okay?” Arlo asks, the familiar soft, soothing tones almost enough to pull Ben out of his allergy-induced misery.

Ben sniffles thickly. “I’m fine. Super, super, fine. I’m having so much fun,” he says, giving a weak smile and thumbs-up.

“We can go home. Well, we can go to your home. Or, uh, my home. Either home. Or if you want to just be alone, you can go to your home, and I could go to my home,” Arlo sputters and Ben finds the corners of his mouth twitching despite his exhaustion and discomfort.

“If in a hypothetical situation where I were to go to a home — any home — I can assure you I’d want you in the home with me. And it’s silly of you to not know that.” Ben pauses, trying not to laugh as he sees Arlo shift his gaze quickly downward. “I predict a blush in three, two, ah… there it is,” Ben says, an amused smile playing on his lips as he watches the pink creep up Arlo’s cheeks.

Arlo attempts a glare, but it’s impossible for him to come across as anything but almost painfully adorable — not that Ben would ever say so.

“Anyway, there will be no running off to any home. I am a big, strong man who can handle some allergies,” Ben says, flexing his nonexistent muscles.

Arlo frowns. “Are you sure? About not wanting to go to one of our homes? I mean, the prospect doesn’t sound bad to me, at all, I have to say.”

Ben huffs out a laugh. “Okay, first of all, I forbid either of us from saying ‘home’ again because it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore. And second of all, I now see your concern for me is all a facade. You just don’t want to be around people.”

Arlo scrunches up his nose as though the mere thought of ‘people’ is enough to unsettle him. “I mean, people aren’t my favorite….”

“It’ll be fine. Everyone will love you and I’m sure — hold on, I have to heh Hah-dtzCHIEW!”

Ben blinks hard and quickly shakes his head before continuing. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time. I know you like going over to your sister’s for the 4th, but I think leaving your comfort zone will be a good thing.”

Arlo’s expression says he thinks differently, but Ben just squeezes thigh gently. “We’re both going to thrive tonight, Arlo. Just wait and see.”

* * *

“Ndo, I’be dot sigck. It’s just allergies. So, yeah, probise I’be dot codtagious,” Ben says for the forty-thousandth time that evening — this time to Shauna and her husband after he, unintentionally, sneezed uncovered into the air several times. The two now stand in front of their four year old daughter as if to shield her from Ben’s germs.

His nasal passages feel completely swollen, as if no amount of air can make its way through regardless of how many times he blows his nose. If he wants to continue to breathe, which he very much so does, he must keep his mouth open partially. He watches Shauna and Rob smile politely, then say something he can’t understand because he’s too preoccupied building up to another sneeze. He scrunches up his face in a vague approximation of a smile, which must be the right thing to do because they walk off into the backyard to stand under a tree. A surge of envy spreads through Ben at how some people can just stand under a tree and face no consequences from it. Ben, on the other hand, has isolated himself onto the back porch. It’s a small area that doesn’t even provide shade and is barely capable of fitting three people onto it at once. But it’s as far as he can get away from the trees, so it’ll have to suffice.

Not that it seems to be making a significant difference. The tickle from before has fully blossomed, so Ben muffles a desperate, itchy sneeze into his arm. Then another. And another.

He looks out to see Arlo standing by the grill, mingling with guests. They’d been there together, but the smoke had started irritating Ben’s nose and to his alarm, his chest. Memories from when he was little of his parents talking about how he didn't have asthma exactly, but could present “asthma like symptoms,” when his allergies got bad enough, started flitting through his mind. He’d assumed he’d grown out of that, since as an adult, he’s found that usually his symptoms stick to his nasal passages. But there was no denying the tightness of his throat and chest as he breathed in the smoke from the grill and the pollen wafting through the air. As much as he wants to persevere through his allergies and enjoy (or at least make it through) the evening, he also doesn’t want to risk dropping dead from an asthma attack in his best friend’s backyard, so he’d dismissed himself from the conversation to seek refuge on the porch.

Poor Arlo, though, was in the midst of actively participating in whatever discussion they’d been having, so he couldn’t smoothly leave the situation without being rude. Otherwise, Ben’s positive he would have. Everything about his body language right now screams “I was forced to come here and I’d rather eat glass than continue this conversation.”

There’s more people than Ben had expected. This is the first year Felix has actually hosted people at his house for the 4th. Usually he and Ben go to Felix’s parents to celebrate. This year, though, Felix wanted to make a bigger deal out of it now that he and Connor live together. Ben hadn’t given the words much thought at the time, but now as he looks around, he realizes Felix wasn’t kidding. Felix’s parents are here, as well as a plethora of Felix’s friends, who seem to have brought their own friends. Felix’s house is nice, but it’s small. Ben imagines it’s better suited for cozy winter days curled in a blanket watching snow through the window — not a place to host over a dozen people in its tiny backyard. Ben is starting to feel overwhelmed by the amount of socializing happening around him, so he knows Arlo must feel close to drowning.

Ben wants to save him. He really does. But he can still see the smoke from the grill swirling around over everyone’s heads. Even from his spot on the porch, his chest and throat feel irritated. He’s known all along he’d eventually have to retreat inside, but he thought he’d last longer than twenty minutes. He sighs before standing up from his chair. He’s going to have to go in, but he needs to rescue Arlo first.

He makes his way over to the where everyone is clustered around that godforsaken tree, next to the grill. Arlo’s left hand busily picks at his cuticles, while his right hand rhythmically taps away at his thigh. He’s talking about… something. Ben can’t possibly figure out what. His speech has become a string of “um’s” and “uh’s” and “so yeahs.”

“Yeah, so, I mean, I’m just saying that yes, I like fireworks, but it’s hard for me not to feel like we’re ignoring the systemic issues of this country. I mean, it’s like, yeah ‘freedom, whoo-hoo!’ but also there’s an argument to be made that, uh, not all people in this country are necessarily free, you know because of… Well because of a lot of things. And that’s without even getting into any of this country’s historical injustices and….”

Jesus, Ben thinks. I leave him alone for five minutes and he goes on a diatribe, albeit a very awkward one, about the problematic nature of celebrating a country rooted in centuries of inequality.

He quickens his pace until he’s standing next to Arlo. He casually places his hand on the small of Arlo’s back. Arlo immediately relaxes into Ben’s touch, making Ben smile.

“So, what are we talkidg about over here? Surely dot systemic oppressiod?” Ben says, his tone dramatic and eyes wide. Some people laugh, likely relieved at the interruption. He sniffs deeply, wriggles his nose, then rubs it quickly with the back of his hand in effort to lessen his congested tone. “Oh, Is it about that lovely cake Melissa made?” he asks, shooting a smile toward Felix’s mother. “I bet that’s what it is. I can’t wait to eat it. It probably took forever to make, right?”

And just like that, the group begins talking about Felix’s mother’s baking skills. Arlo leans further into Ben then whispers a desperate sounding “thank you” into his shoulder. Ben snorts in amusement, then leads Arlo away from the crowd of people across the short distance to the back porch. Ben feels a warm breeze against his skin and wonders why he ever thought “distancing” himself from the tree would make much of a difference; the wind is going to blow all the allergens everywhere, anyway.

“I don’t even know why I got started, Ben,” Arlo says. “It’s just… everyone was looking at me and asking questions about how I normally celebrate the fourth. So, I opened up my mouth to tell them how I usually spend it at Brooke and her family’s house, you know, with my niece and nephew. But there were just so many eyes on me and before I knew it word vomit was coming out everywhere. ” The look in Arlo’s eyes is frantic and worried.

Ben takes Arlo’s hands. “It’s okay. I promise no one is judging you. I’d guarantee nearly every person here agrees with your take. It’s just that I think maybe we try to use this day to ignore all that serious shit. You know, just eat some burgers and watch explosions and pretend everything’s fine.”

Arlo’s eyes widen and he grips Ben’s hands tighter. “Oh my god, and that’s another thing. The burgers! Everyone was asking about why I was eating so many pretzels and snack foods so

I explained that I was probably going to eat some cake, but not any of the burgers, which of course, led to them asking why I became vegetarian, and I mean, how do I answer that without making people feel like I’m judging them?”

Ben releases Arlo’s grip so he can wipe his nose. “Well, it’s simple. You say ‘ah, you know, it’s just always been a choice that makes sense for me, personally,’ then you change the subject. Easy peasy.” He stares at Arlo’s eyes, which are now rapidly blinking. Ben has to suppress a laugh. “What you don’t say is anything at all about the ethics of factory farming. I’m sure you didn’t, though, right? Please tell me neither the word ‘factory’ nor ‘farming’ came out of your mouth while standing around a bunch of people eagerly waiting to eat burgers?”

Arlo, wearing the most pitifully crestfallen expression, stares at Ben.

“Oh, Arlo, I can’t take you anywhere,” but even Ben can hear the fondness dripping off the words.

Ben feels his amused expression shift into something else, though, when he notices faint pink splotches trailing up Arlo’s neck.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ben asks, gesturing at his own neck.

Arlo’s brows knit as he looks down at his chest. “What? Oh. Am I splotchy? Sorry, that happens sometimes,” he says quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t want you to apologize, Arlo. I want you to explain why you look like you’ve broken out into hives. You… oh,” he says as realization dawns. “Did you really get that anxious?” Ben regrets immediately how judgemental his tone sounds when he sees Arlo wince. “Hey, it’s okay if you did. I’m just worried. I wouldn’t have left you over heh over — hehhh!”

Ben scrunches up his face, trying to rid himself of the tickle — an action experience has taught him does nothing except make him look exceedingly ridiculous. Still, though, he gives it a valiant effort.

“Heeh-DTZchuUH!”

The sneeze feels particularly strong, but there’s still an intense itch deep within his sinuses.

Fuck, he thinks. This is about to be bad.

“Bless —”

“Bless me, I know, I know,” Ben interrupts, feeling guilty at how much irritation he allowed to slip into his tone. He squints his eyes and fixes his gaze on the sun. “I’ve been haah I’ve been thoroughly blessed today, so my soul’s safe, I think. I — I — het-chuuuh! Etchuuuh! ETschuuuh! Chhh! CHhhh! ETchhh! ETCHooo! ETCHiew! Eh hhhh hhh?”

Ben pulls out a crumpled tissue from his pocket to wipe his nose, but he’s gasping again before he can get a good grasp on it. He watches as it falls to the ground. He shakes his head, then bends forward, hands on his knees, prepared to aim his sneezes at the concrete.

“Ehhh edt’shhhh! Ahhh Ahht’shiew! AdSHUuuuuh!”

That irritated, tight feeling is back in his throat and chest, accompanied by an unbearably strong itching sensation. He quickly becomes lost in a fit of coughing that does nothing to bring any relief. It’s not his normal allergy coughing that serves to relieve his post nasal drip. It’s more urgent.

And it won’t stop.

He feels Arlo’s hand on his back and then hears footsteps. He looks up through watery eyes to see Shauna standing before him, expression full of concern.

“Ben, do you have asthma?” she asks in a calm, but severe tone. He remembers she’s a nurse and probably knows what she’s talking about.

“No. I had — heh — ‘asthma like symptoms’ as a kid. Whatever that means. I don’t know. I just remember my parents saying that. I think I had a rescue inhaler, but I don’t remember ever using it? I really — heh — I really don’t know. Heh et’SHOO! EH’SHOOO!”

And then the coughing takes back over. Every breath he manages in between is a wheeze.

Ben’s not a doctor or a nurse, but it’s still very clear that he should not be outside right now, so he tries to make his way inside through the back door. The problem, though, is his eyes are streaming tears, so he can barely see. His coughing and Shauna’s subsequent abrupt jog over clearly raised alarm in people because it seems that everyone has now decided to relocate onto the small porch. He’s surrounded.

Several people are crowded around the door, which just seems absurd. He assumes they’re well-meaning and wanting to help, but he needs to get in.

Shauna’s hand is on his back, saying something he can’t parse through. Something about how the pollen count is at a record high for this time of year and that he needs to get inside — both things he’s already more than aware of.

He continues to stand with his hands on his thighs, trying to even out his breathing, but the damn coughing refuses to stop. It sounds like everyone’s talking all at once. He hears Melissa, Felix’s mom, say something in a voice threaded with obvious concern. There’s actually a lot of concerned sounding voices. Someone’s asking if they should call 9-1-1, which he thinks is highly unnecessary. It’s surely not that bad.

He just needs everyone to get the fuck out of the way and he’s sure he’d be fine.

Clearly he’s made a bit of a scene of himself. He imagines he looks pretty rough. His eyes are streaming and he has nothing to capture the wetness with aside from the back of his hand. A distant part of Ben’s mind registers this as being a mortifying moment that will replay in his head before falling asleep for decades to come. But right now his main concern is to get the coughing to stop and to just breathe.

If only he could get inside.

To his alarm, he realizes he’s starting to feel lightheaded. “Het’chh! Chh! Chh chh chh eh chh!”

The sneezes he aims at the ground are weak, but make the fuzziness in his head worse, and he still can’t catch his breath for all the coughing. It feels like he’s being touched all over by different people. He doesn’t need to be touched. He needs to be inside.

Suddenly, he feels an arm wrapping tightly around his waist. “Hey, give him space!” The words are firm and surprisingly loud, making it through the chaos around them. “He needs to get inside right now, but you all are blocking the damn door! Move!”

Holy shit, he thinks. That’s Arlo.

The figures quickly disperse and Arlo, still holding onto him tightly, guides him inside to the kitchen.

“There’s no need for everyone to come in and stare at him. Shauna, please stay and help. Everyone else, just go back out for now,” Arlo demands, sounding uncharacteristically confident and in charge. Ben wonders absently if this is how he talks to his students.

“You mean Shauna and Felix,” Felix adds, indignantly. “I’m not staying outside while Ben has an asthma attack.”

“Jesus, Felix, I’m not having an —” Ben’s words break off as he continues to cough and wheeze. It’s becoming harder to get a full breath. He’s surely not having an asthma attack. He doesn’t have those. And he can breathe; it’s just not particularly easy. Yes, his chest is tight and uncomfortable, he’s lightheaded, and his breaths are definitely coming out more wheezy than he’d like. Still, though, he doesn't feel like he’s on the cusp of death — the way he imagines asthma attacks would feel.

Arlo guides Ben to the couch. Ben leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to control his breaths while Arlo rubs his back in soothing circles. Felix sits on his other side — his presence quiet, but comforting.

“Should we get him to the ER?” Felix asks, voice tight with worry.

“No, absolutely not. I’m not going to the ER on the fourth of July with —” Ben breaks off, coughing. “With people who —” More coughing and this time, a slight amount of gasping. “Who have actual injuries, like blown off hands or whatever. I’m fine.”

“I’m not too worried. He’s able to mostly speak in full sentences, so I don’t think he’s in severe respiratory distress,” Shauna says, calmly, from her spot on the coffee table. “All right, Ben. Try to sit up straight and lean a little forward, okay? That’ll help you breathe easier. Focus on getting your breaths in slowly. Try to inhale through your nose and exhale through pursed lips. You’re already starting to sound a little better than you were. I think we can manage this here just fine as long as you stay calm and listen to what I say, okay?”

Ben does as she says, focusing mostly on Arlo’s gentle, soothing touch as he breathes slowly in and out while keeping his eyes closed.

Gradually, the tightness in his chest lessens and his breaths begin coming more easily and with less of a wheeze.

“Does anyone have an antihistamine?” Shauna asks after a few minutes, breaking the silence. Her voice is still calm, but authoritative.

“I have Benadryl. He didn’t want to take it earlier, though. Something about them giving him migraines.” That’s Connor’s voice. He must’ve come in at some point while Ben’s focus was devoted to getting his lungs to work.

“Well, he needs to take it now. And then, Ben,” she continues, addressing him directly. “If you feel like you can, you should take a shower and change your clothes. You’ve been sneezing your head off since I got here. You’re obviously having a severe reaction to some kind of allergen. You’re probably coated in it. After the shower, you need to just rest. I think you had a mild asthma attack. ”

“Het’shuuuh! Eh heh et’shhhhh!”

He sprays the sneezes down at the floor, then wipes his nose with a tissue he vaguely recalls Arlo handing him earlier.

“I don’t have asthma though,” he says, weakly, feeling inordinately exhausted.

“It starts in adulthood for some people. I know you have pretty severe allergies, so I suggest seeing your allergist and talking about this, okay?”

Ben doesn’t have an allergist, but he’s not going to mention that. He’ll sort this whole potential asthma thing out later. Right now he can barely even keep his eyes open. But Shauna’s right — he does need to take a shower and get into non-pollen soaked clothes, so he hums in agreement before getting up to do just that.

* * *

Ben’s never felt more pathetic in his life than he does now, sitting alone watching through a window at everyone else outside talking and having fun. He’d taken a shower and changed into some of Connor’s clothes — some old sweatpants and a t-shirt, both of which are comically oversized, but it was his only option aside from Felix’s clothes, which would have been too small.

Arlo had wanted to go home, of course. Ben, though, refused to admit defeat. He’d promised to have a good time no matter what, allergies and a tiny asthma attack be damned. He looks through the window again and watches as everyone laughs at something Connor apparently said. Arlo’s fingers tap nervously away at his thigh as he stands next to Annie and Lilah. Ben sighs and clutches the blanket he has draped over his shoulders more tightly.

After Ben had his little respiratory episode an hour ago, when it became clear he wanted to stay and watch the fireworks even if it had to be through a window, everyone seemed to fixate on Arlo. It was as if they were determined to make sure he had a good time despite his wreck of a boyfriend. Arlo had tried to mutter something about wanting to keep Ben company, but the confident, assured man from before had disappeared and he easily acquiesced. Connor and Felix had all but swept him away.

“We want to get to know him a little more,” Felix had said. “We work together but I want to see who he is when he’s not in a professional environment, you know?”

It didn’t seem to matter what Arlo had wanted.

Ben shifts on the futon. He’s in Connor’s home office, which also doubles as the place Felix keeps his pet snake and tarantula. It had been Connor’s idea to put in a futon. He’d wanted a guest room, but they simply didn’t have the space in the small, two-bedroom home, so the futon had been a compromise. Ben wonders now if Connor’s “guest room” idea came about from how often it seemed Ben ended up crashing at their place. It’s not like they ever have any other guests. Connor probably got sick of tiptoeing around his own living room while Ben slept on his couch.

“Eh’ptshhh! Eh’tshhh! T’shhhhuh!”

Ben releases the light, misty sneezes into his tissues. After taking the Benadryl (and some Excedrin in a preemptive attempt to stave off any potential migraine) Felix had gotten him nicely set up in the office. He has plenty of tissues, several bottles of water, and a nice, fuzzy throw blanket. But still, he feels like complete shit.

His allergies do feel better, likely due to the antihistamine. The Excedrin seems to have helped him not develop a full-blown migraine, but it didn’t fully prevent a headache — not that he’s surprised. He was probably going to have a headache from how much he’d been sneezing and coughing even if he hadn’t taken the allergy medicine. Mostly, he’s feeling drowsy. Shauna mentioned the asthma attack, which he’s slowly starting to accept is what is indeed what he had, would probably make him feel fatigued. Adding Benadryl into the mix just made everything worse.

He tries to take another bite of the slice of cake Felix’s mom had ordered he eat, but his appetite is nonexistent. He instead spreads the red, white, and blue icing around the paper plate until he sighs and sets it aside.

He reaches for another tissue to blow his nose, then borrows deeper into his blanket. His eyelids feel too heavy, so finally he gives in and lets them close.

“There you are!”

The smile comes before Ben can even open his eyes. When he does, he sees a very flustered looking Arlo standing in the doorway.

“Hey, there you are. Come sit down,” Ben says as he pats the spot next to him, his voice raspy from all the coughing and sneezing.

Arlo immediately complies, his shoulder slumping in apparent relief to be away from the crowd of people. When he makes it to the futon, his gaze scans Ben up and down. “How are you feeling?” he asks, face twisted with concern.

“I’m okay. Just tired,” Ben answers, then frowns as he sees Arlo’s hives from before are still there. They’re actually worse. “Are you okay? You’re, um… a little splotchy again.”

“I’m fine, really. It just happens when I get overwhelmed. Like, socially overwhelmed,” Arlo admits, casting his gaze downward.

“I’m sorry I left you out there to fend for yourself,” Ben says, frowning.

“You didn’t leave me. And I was mostly worried about you. I still feel like we should see a doctor just in case. I mean, Ben, you couldn’t breathe.”

“I mean, technically, I could. It was just a little like doing it through a straw is all,” Ben jokes, weakly.

Arlo nudges his arm. “Stop. You need to take it seriously.”

Ben just groans and leans his head against the futon. Arlo curls into his side, resting his head against Ben’s shoulder.

“This is very nice, but you’re gonna have to move,” Ben announces as he scrunches up his nose.

“What, why?”

“Because I’m going to sneeze,” Ben states simply, his eyes still closed.

“Are you sure? You don’t look like you’re going to sneeze.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m just trying to stall because I know it’s going to kill my already splitting head.”

“Well, I don’t see why I have to move. Just turn your head,” Arlo murmurs, snuggling up even closer.

“It’ll heh hh! It’ll still be in the heh air th-heh-though. Can you hand me a t-hih-issue?”

“It’s not like you’re contagious. It’s fine. I promise,” Arlo assures him, but he pulls away slightly to grab a tissue.

But the sneezes are done being patient and start tumbling out over each other before Ben can take it.

“HEH EH’tchhhh! EDT’shhhh! Edtzshooo! Eh chh! Chhh chhh chh chh uhhh CHH!” He sniffles and realizes he’d unknowingly held Arlo more tightly through the fit, squeezing his side. He has a single moment to wonder if he’d accidentally caused him any pain before he’s taken over again. “EH CHIEW! EH CHIEW! HUUHHH! Tshh! Tshhh! TSHHH! HEH-Tshhhhh!”

Ben hopes Arlo was truthful about not minding if he sneezed openly because he’d guarantee the air they’re both breathing is composed of more sneeze spray than oxygen now.

“Bless you. Are you okay?” Arlo murmurs against his shoulder.

“Yeah, but this will probably go on for a while,” he admits, reaching over to grab the tissue box.

A few moments go by in silence with the two just snuggling on the futon until Ben breaks it with a question he’s been avoiding. “So, feel free to ignore this question if you don’t want to answer. But, have you ever been medicated for anxiety? I’m just wondering because you seem to have some, uh, pretty intense physical reactions.”

Arlo exhales loudly then makes a noise that sounds like a groan. “Yeah, I mean, I was. In my early twenties. But then I stopped because, I don’t know… It seemed like a lot to deal with. Keeping up with the prescriptions, I mean. And I didn't really think I needed it. So, I just kind of stopped.”

Ben snorts, then realizing how rude that seems, quickly defends himself. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I just find it funny because I did the exact same thing with antidepressants. Just stopped taking them. Sometimes I think we couldn’t be any more different, then there’s moments like this….” Ben trails off.

Now it’s Arlo’s turn to snort. “Moments where you realize we have things in common like being really bad at taking care of ourselves?”

“Exactly,” Ben says, laughing.

“Speaking of…. You know you need to go to the doctor, right? To see about this potential asthma thing?”

“That sounds like a lot of work. And money.”

Even though Ben feels like he works nearly every waking moment of his life, going to the doctor has never been a luxury he could afford. Neither of his jobs offer health insurance and he doesn’t make enough money to afford medical care on his own, but makes too much to qualify for any sort of government assistance. He hears fireworks off in the distance and wonders if Arlo’s earlier holiday cynicism is rubbing off on him because thinking about the American healthcare system has him wanting to toss all the 4th of July decorations into the trash.

Arlo shifts from Ben’s embrace and sits up straighter. “If I have to help you pay for a doctor visit, or loan you money or whatever, I will. You said yourself earlier today that your allergies are only getting worse. And you heard a literal medical professional say you probably had an asthma attack. What if you have another, Ben? And it’s worse? You don’t have an inhaler or anything. What if next time sitting up straight and doing breathing exercises doesn’t work?” Arlo speaks quickly, almost breathlessly and his mouth is drawn in a tight line.

“You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” Ben asks with a raised brow. Someone worrying about him, who isn’t Felix, is still very much a novelty.

Arlo stares for a long moment before he blinks slowly. “Of course I’m worried. How could you even ask that? I —” He exhales sharply. “I hate seeing you unwell. You’re — I mean, you… I —” He puts his head in his hands and lets out a frustrated huff. He lifts his head to meet Ben’s gaze. “With all the people today and all the food I couldn’t eat…. And the hives,” he says, emphatically, gesturing at his neck. “They were all worth it because of you. Surely you know that? I mean, you know I wouldn’t willingly come to something like this on my own, right?”

Ben feels a twinge of guilt tug at his chest. “Oh, yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have asked you to come. That was selfish of me.”

Arlo gives him another stare and slow blink combo. “That’s not what I meant. Ben, I love you, but you are so frustrating sometimes that I —” Arlo stops abruptly, his eyes widening into saucers.

Ben opens his mouth, then immediately closes it. Then he watches Arlo’s mouth do the exact same thing.

“Are you sure?” Ben hears himself finally ask. “Like, are you serious? Or did you just mean it the way people say they ‘love’ potato chips or they ‘love’ their car?” Ben doesn’t know what he wishes the answer to be. He doesn’t know anything right now. His head hurts, his eyes feel heavy, and nothing makes sense.

Arlo seems to carefully consider the question. “I feel a lot stronger about you than potato chips or cars. So, yeah, I really mean it. I think.”

Ben rolls his eyes, snorts, then sneezes twice into the tissue he’s been holding before breaking out into nervous laughter. “What a grand romantic declaration of love, Arlo. Seriously, I’m honored.”

A blush has taken over Arlo’s face and he averts his gaze. “Hush. It was an impromptu declaration of love, so stop with your judging.”.

Ben snorts again. Then, sneezes again. “Hmm… I think you can do better. You literally read poetry and shit. You teach students about Walt Whitman and Emily Dickenson. So, go ahead,” he says, gesturing broadly to the space around them. “The floor is yours and there are literal fireworks going off outside, so I expect the very best.”

He doesn’t know why he says it — why he’s inviting Arlo to continue talking about such an absurd thing. Except that he has to maintain the pretense of lightheartedness — has to pretend his fight or flight response hasn’t kicked in and that he’s definitely leaning heavily toward the flight side of things.

Arlo narrows his eyes. “I know you’re teasing, but joke’s on you, because I’ve got this,” he says, his voice taking on a more confident, assured tone. He straightens up on the futon, taking Ben’s hands in his. Ben feels his stomach twist in… what? Dread? Apprehension? Excitement? He doesn’t know, but there’s no time to analyze because Arlo’s staring at him blush-free and with a very intentful look in his eyes.

“Ben —”

Ben abruptly pulls his hands from Arlo’s and desperately grabs the tissue from his lap. “Hah eh-shooo! Eh hih ihtshooo! Ihshooo! IH —heh — fuck. Idtz’shooo!”

Ben blows his nose loudly. “Sorry. Uh, please, proceed to tell you how perfect I am and how much you love me,” he says, voice muffled by the tissue.

Arlo stares at him, his face softening with an expression full of unmistakable fondness. Or, no, it’s more than that, Ben thinks. Arlo doesn’t need to have a grand speech prepared full of eloquent words — his face says everything. How had Ben not seen it before? How is it possible that someone is looking at him with an expression like that? His heart is thundering in his chest and he feels like he should say something to stop Arlo from opening his mouth because what can Ben offer in return? But it’s too late.

“Ben, I love you.”

Ben waits for more, but Arlo continues to sit there staring before he bites his lips.

Ben’s anxiety eases and he feels the corners of his mouth twitch. “That it?”

Arlo frowns. “No. I have more,” he says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, the thing about Dickenson and Whitman is that they had time to write their poetry. To get all the words right. And, Ben, I really want to get the words right.” He pauses, his expression thoughtful. “Do you think you can give that to me? Time to get the words, right?”

Ben feels the tension leave his shoulders and the beat of his heart resume a more normal pace.

“Yes, if you do the same for me. Give me more time, I mean. You deserve the right words, too. Words not said through a Benadryl haze. And, honestly, Arlo, you also deserve more time to really think about your feelings. I mean, you barely know me,” Ben adds, hating the crack in his voice that has nothing to do with his allergies. “There’s still so much shit about myself I haven’t even shown you. So, save the speech for later okay? For when you’re sure.”

Ben knows that he’s never going to get to hear the speech. Because with enough time, Arlo will come to his senses and realize Ben tricked him — that he hid his true self away and when Arlo finally does see who Ben really is — well, he’s definitely not going to care anymore about the “right words” or perfectly crafted romantic speeches.

Arlo silently stares at Ben for such a long time that he has to stop himself from squirming in discomfort. Finally Arlo lets out a long sigh before taking Ben’s hands in his. “Okay, then. We won’t talk about it anymore for now. I won’t tell you any more about how I love you. And you don’t have to say it back.” At this, Ben shifts uncomfortably on the futon and begins to open his mouth, but Arlo holds a hand out, stopping him. “But, Ben, I do promise. I promise that one day I will find the right words to encompass everything I feel for you. It’s not a matter of if but when.”

Ben says nothing. What can he say to that?

Outside, the fireworks continue. Ben clears his throat before slowly pulling his hands away from Arlo’s. “C’mon, let’s actually watch the fireworks Felix stupidly spent hundreds of dollars on.”

So the two leave the futon to stand by the window that gives them a perfect view of the fireworks. Ben wraps his arm around Arlo, who easily leans in. Ben snorts as he sees Connor pull a lighter away from Felix’s hand. He doesn’t need to hear to know Connor is forbidding Felix from setting off any fireworks. With Felix’s history of being accident prone, Ben has to agree with Connor’s decision.

The fireworks really are beautiful. He and Arlo stand shoulder-to-shoulder in silence as they watch the pretty colors explode and crackle across the sky. Children are running through the yard and Ben can see from here that everyone is having a fun time laughing and celebrating.

Ben remembers his promise from earlier in the day — to have a good time no matter what. He’s had multiple horrendously awful allergy attacks, as well as what most likely was an asthma attack. He was forced by his body’s limitations to sequester himself off in a single room to watch everyone else celebrate through a window. He’s had what anyone would consider to be an exceptionally bad day.

And yet….

“Thank you for being here with me. You have a way of making things feel a little less awful,” Ben says softly.

“God, you too. All I could think about while I was out there was ‘I just have to make it back to Ben and everything will be better.’ And it is better. When I’m with you, I feel like I can finally breathe,” Arlo says, giving a long exhale as if to demonstrate his point.

Ben recalls how just an hour earlier, it felt like there had been a weight on his chest. Each breath had taken a deliberate effort from his burning lungs. Arlo had been his anchor, soothing him with his gentle touch. As Ben focused on Arlo, he’d felt the weight slowly lift until he was finally able to get in a full breath.

He turns to face Arlo — his features flickering beautifully in red and gold from the last firework. “I can breathe better when I’m with you, too” Ben finally says, pulling Arlo in closer as another firework lights up the sky.

He thinks back to what Arlo said about loving him. Ben knows it can't last, but in this moment, he can pretend.

They continue to stand together in the dimly-lit room as the muffled booms from outside rattle the window pane and the lights dance across the walls. As the last firework of the night crackles into silence, Ben realizes with astonishment that despite the incessant sneezing and minor health crisis, he truly did enjoy the day — and that the reason is solely down to the man standing next to him.

Part 10

#just realizing i never posted this chapter here... oops #i always post to the forum first and sometimes i forget about tumblr #snz #snz fic #snzblr

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