#will that actually make it easier to talk to her though?

[thewertsearch]

Rumbled!

TG: was havin important chats GG: Oh? GG: With whom? […] TG: di stri

Which would have ruled out my guesses of Dale and Drew. I still think I'd have gone with Dick, because of the, uh, everything, but Hussie decided to avoid the low-hanging fruit this time around.

GG: […] I was just the target of another assassination attempt. […] GG: Two, in fact! One here in the real world, as I attempted to retrieve the mail. GG: Luckily it was thwarted by a certain cat who shall remain nameless. […] GG: But in the process of being rescued from the explosion, I was knocked unconscious. GG: And in my dream, there was another assassination attempt. GG: This one I believe was successful! […] GG: I'm becoming convinced that our "dream selves" are being picked off by violent hooligans. […] GG: The one who accosted me was a knife-wielding lunatic. GG: And it's reasonable to deduce the same forces were responsible for Jake's death on Prospit as well. GG: It looks like we are in the clutches of an actual caper. A real life mystery!

It's funny that she's being so twee about this whole thing. Describing her attempted assassination as a caper makes it feel like a Nancy Drew mystery - and honestly, if Jane's going to treat Sburb's intrigue as if she's the protagonist of a detective story, I'm all for it.

I mean, we need this sort of thinking, don't we? We need someone to absorb the facts of the case, detect their way to the culprit (English), and discern means, motive and opportunity. With Jane spearheading this 'investigation', we might finally trace things back to the ultimate source of all our problems.

GG: Shortly before I was stabbed, I had a rather long gander at Skaia. […] GG: I saw things in the clouds. […] GG: Things happening in the future, I think. GG: Many events pertaining to us. All of us, and other people I didn't recognize. GG: It was a bit overwhelming. […] GG: It made me feel pretty foolish too. […] GG: I began to wonder why I ever had the audacity to think I know much of anything about the world we live in or the journey we're about to take. GG: Or to think I could ever rule anything out. GG: I have a feeling that whatever I saw, it means you've been telling the truth all along.

It's almost as if it's easier for your mind to comprehend the truth when you're asleep. It's as though your Dream Self's brain is free of the Tiaratop's corruption, allowing you to finally blow the cobwebs off your - artificially sedated - sleuthing instincts.

GG: And I'm starting to feel like a complete idiot for doubting you. […] GG: I've been one great big horse's caboose, and I think you're owed an apology. GG: Do you think you can forgive me? TG: jane TG: damn TG: ur makin me feel like shit here GG: Why? TG: uuuun TG: eh no reason

Can’t think of what this could be, to be honest.

Roxy seems entirely above board, and there's no evidence that she's, like, secretly working against Jane or anything. Maybe this is when her allegiance to the Horrorterrors is finally revealed.

TG: what were we talking about again TG: soory im just worked up ovr it GG: I don't blame you. GG: Where we were, by my estimation, was a place wherein I was about to awkwardly attempt to swallow a helping of humble pie. GG: To somehow make it up to you for my years of stubborn mistrust. TG: hey jane TG: wasnt that a bunch a splip infinitives… […] GG: Oh!!! TG: lul so busted GG: Oh gosh, what a doofus. GG: You see?? I clearly don't have all the answers! GG: I really had some nerve challenging anyone, on practically any subject. TG: dont beat urself up too bad we both know that rule is bullshit anyway TG: you hold yourself to too high a standard and those standards kinda leak out and start gettin applied to other people i guess sometimes

Does she? That's not really something I've noticed. Sure, she's corrected a couple of typos, but beyond that, I don't see what standards she's been applying to everyone else.

I suppose she's probably been telling everyone to be 'rational', and ignore this silly Batterwitch conspiracy, just like she does. But is that really a 'standard'?

[inspired-lesson-plans]

Instead of taking a nap I just had the greatest idea.

Children's cartoon series that focuses on the lives of all the English letters. Each one has its own personality that is in part derived from its phonic function, and they all have relationships with each other that come from how the different letters relate to each other.

This was inspired by the thought that kids might learn the alphabet just as well if the letters had full names like Kappa instead of the tiny names they have today. This evolved into the thought that every letter has its own personality and that we could tell stories about them because they're all characters (ha).

Here are a few notes that I thought of in the shower and couldn't sleep until I wrote them all down:

Subconsciously I am 100% basing this on a combination of the Mr Men books and the Wayside School series.

Every letter has a proper name based on their ancestral Greek letter names*, but they are typically called by their nicknames (the English versions). I do not know what to do about C and the like.

The letters have genders because that makes them easier to remember.

They should have English or Australian accents because it's a kid's cartoon.

Speech bubbles must always be present when characters are talking. This is a phonics-focused edutainment show. The kids need to read.

C & K are married. K gets jealous when she sees her wife hanging around H because she knows what kind of effect H has on letters like S or T.

In one episode K is really upset and she refuses to make a sound when forming words like KNOW or KNIFE. Some of the letters don't get it, but her friend G helps her out.

I & E are sisters. E is the popular sister whom everyone wants to include in everything. The other vowels say "We're just not the same without you!"

I is always trying to be like E, which is why she's often trying to make the same vowel sound. When E is asked to help spell the word FRIEND, she brings her little sister along even though I doesn't actually do anything.

In one episode, E feels overwhelmed by everyone's expectations of her, so she decides to take a Self Care day. But that means that all the other letters need to figure out how to make words without any E's. Soon they start to panic because their words are all messing up now. This is reflected in the dialogue, such as "A S_lf Car_ Day? What do_s that m_an?" This is pronounced without the underscores, for comedic effect. Anyway, I decides that she has to take her sister's place. After some fumbling around, she realizes that she can't do everything her sister does, but she can still be useful. SKATE can't be SKATI, but with some help they can still make SKATING, for instance.

Ampersand is a letter. At first they think they're a punctuation mark, but then their adoptive family (grandparent . parents ! and ? siblings , ; – ) reveals that their full name is "And per se and", which means "& itself" and used to be said at the end of the alphabet song.

I am very open to discussion on this.

Please, reach out if you have any thoughts. I do not have anywhere near the skills to do something like this for real, but I want this idea to be out there and for someone to make it. And I am willing to be involved.

This is Tumblr, let's collaborate.

*Fun fact that I just learned, the Roman alphabet is taken from the Etruscans, who borrowed it from Greek immigrants but shortened their names. And the Romans called Y the "Greek I", which is why when I go to the DMV I keep on hearing a Spanish voice calling for "Igriega". (Sources 1, 2)

[cloverrwritess]

Title: Number One Fanboy | Part One

Spencer Agnew x Kpop Idol! Fem! Reader

Request: Yes | No

authors note: I can finally get into the requests! I have a month off to visit my home town so I have time to write fics ♡ job was kicking my ass 🥲

Words in italics font are supposed to be in korean! I do know a bit (had to learn for my job) but not enough to be fluent, translating takes a lot of time so I’m using Italics to make it easier for me 🤧

☆☆☆

After days since the finalization of a certain meeting with your management, you were able to go to LA and start your new series ‘[Name] in LA’, a series where you navigate the area by yourself and experience the so-called ‘LA lifestyle’.

You landed around one in the morning to avoid paparazzi and fans, your place to stay for the month was a Suite in one of the expensive hotels in the area that only celebrities can get access to, a private driver that was one call away, as well as a tiny, rotating camera.

Flying from Korea to LA was no joke, hours of just sitting down and sitting, limiting what you can do inside a plane is exhausting.

☆☆☆

You turned on your camera and started filming.

"Welcome to the first episode of [name] in LA, it's actually so late right now around two am and I need to wake up early to film. Before I go to bed, I'm doing my skincare"

You started washing your face and applied skincare, sometimes giving out the benefits of using certain products. You grabbed the camera and placed it on your nightstand, making sure you were in frame.

"Before sleeping I do like to check my schedule to see if everything is in order, it keeps me from overthinking"

Checking your phone to see if nothing was changed and did a little pep talk on why you should never stay up late at night even though that’s what you’re doing currently.

“My eyes are getting droopy, I need to sleep before it’s 5am, goodnight everyone, see you tomorrow or is it good morning? i'll see you later” You chuckled, turning the camera off and getting comfy before finally closing your eyes.

☆☆☆

You adjust your mask and hat before speaking to the camera.

"Good morning! It's now the next day and my first stop is a trendy cafe I saw online, the pastries and coffee looked so good, let's go"

You were looking at your phone to see if you’re going in the right direction. Still holding the mini camera, doing some small talk to make sure you’re not filming a boring clip that might get cut.

Seeing the sign and name of the cafe, you felt relieved. "Hopefully the food is yummy” You opened the door and got hit by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet smell of bread, you got in line and looked at the menu from above. Struggling to choose between caramel or vanilla iced coffee. "This is difficult"

Then a voice spoke up behind you.

"If I were you, I would buy the caramel iced coffee." You looked at the direction of the voice, a man with curly hair and wired glasses.

"You looked like you were struggling to decide on what to order”

Immediately turning off the camera and hiding it inside your purse, you replied.

"Yes, I was having trouble"

I've never been good at striking up a conversation with strangers without getting recognized or having people approach me to take pictures. "Are you new to this place? I've been here for years and I don't recognize you"

"Yeah, I’m here for work so I’m just exploring the area" You lied, technically you are here for work, but not in a way other people would understand.

"LA is a big city, and you'll wind up walking in circles at the end of the day” He joked.

Noticing it was your turn in line, You ordered a pastry with coffee, you took your wallet out of your bag to make the payment. "Your total is $11.50" Suddenly the man you were speaking to handed his card to the cashier "I'll pay for her order and get a caramel iced coffee as well"

He looked at me and grinned—my goodness, he had the cutest smile I've ever seen. "You didn't have to do that, umm" Realizing you never asked for his name.

"My name is Spencer" He said

"Want to take a seat together? If you're uncomfortable or simply want to be by yourself, I can leave you alone, No hard feelings" he said.

I didn't have my security with me, so I knew it was a bad idea to sit with a complete stranger, but this is the first time I've felt normal (as in with no cameras in front of me, flashing lights, and no screaming my name)in a long time. It's exhausting to walk around with bodyguards; I haven't experienced this in years. Spencer doesn't give me any creep vibes.

"I'll pick a good spot."

☆☆☆

I chose a window seat that was somewhat out of sight of the large window. I couldn't pass a nice seat with good lighting, even though I knew this place was a bad spot, paranoid being caught by crazy fans

"You weren't kidding when you said you'd pick a good spot, this seat is usually occupied around this time" He said and set our food and drinks on the table.

"Just telling you know, my lunch ends in like 20 minutes so we have 20 minutes to chat" He sat down in front of me and took a sip of his coffee.

"Is your workplace close by?"

"Yeah, this coffee shop is only a few blocks away from where I work, I work as the director and editor for this YouTube channel"

"Really? That's so cool" Not only was he cute, he was also a media nerd.

"The channel is called Smosh, and I occasionally appear on camera as a cast member” he chuckled, adding "I do kind of the weirdest things on camera for people to see”

"How about you? My heart fell out of my chest. I can't just say, ‘I'm an Idol from Korea’ out in the open Although he doesn't appear to be a K-pop fan, looks can be deceiving these days.

He was waiting for me to respond "Well, I work in the entertainment industry" I replied fast.

"Private, got it, don't worry, I'm not going to ask more questions" He assured me.

Who knew that meeting a guy at a coffee shop would turn out to be the funniest guy I've ever met? We chatted for a while and laughed at jokes. Spencer checked his watch, he saw that it was well past his lunch break. He got up and straightened his clothes. "Shit, I have to direct a video and I'm thirty minutes late”

"It was nice meeting you—"

"[Name] is my name." I grinned at him.

"Hopefully, You and I will cross paths again" Before I knew it, I was the only person at the table. I moved Spencer's cup out of the way so it wouldn't be visible on camera as I recorded a clip of me at the coffee shop, acting as if I just had a snack by myself. I adjusted my hat and put on my face mask.

"It's time to make my day productive”

☆☆☆

Spencer ran toward the Smosh games set looking unkempt.

"What took you so long?" Angela questioned, dramatically motioning with her hands.

"We were going to go hire a search party for you." Amanda joked.

"Sorry, I just lost track of time," I lied, I knew they would make fun of me for weeks if they found out the real reason why I was late.

Watching Spencer intently, Shayne interrupted both Amanda and Angela "Come on, let him sit down and film the video."

After filming a new Bored AF video, Shayne decided to confront Spencer.

"Spence, are you alright? Shayne jokes, "You look like you're constipated throughout directing the video" but his voice was laced with concern.

"I think I just met the love of my life" The confession caused Shayne's eyes to widen a little. "You met them at the coffee shop you always go to?”

I ruffled my hair out of nervousness and said, "Yeah man, She said she is new here in LA, and I'm telling you, she's fucking gorgeous"

"Whoa, I've never heard someone speak like that before”

"I know it's really cheesy, but I'm not kidding—her appearance made her look like an idol or even a celebrity"

Thinking, Shayne rubbed his chin. "You say a celebrity? What's her name? He said, "We can look her up"

"What? Dude, I don't want to Google her and pry into her life; that's creep behavior" I remembered her expression when I asked about her work. It seemed confidential, and I didn't want to break her trust that fast.

"Yeah you're right, what I said just now was a stupid idea"

"Just keep this a secret from everyone, especially Courtney” To show that he was going to keep this a secret, Shayne drew an "X" on his chest and zipped his mouth for dramatic effects.

☆☆☆

note: 🫣

[writing-whump]

I am the biggest fan of arranged marriage becomes real love and I hope that something they’ll happen between Melissa and Dominick. It’ll probably take a while, but my fingers are crossed 🤞

So I was wondering, could you write a fic where they are maybe talking about the logistics of their plan and what not and Dominick gets one of his attacks that he got in the fic that we were introduced to him and Melissa has to be the caretaker?

I'm so excited about this ask, thank you for sending it! I LOVE the arranged marriage/fake relationship becoming real too!!🙈💕

Too Late to Lie

"Are you sure about this one?"

Melissa rolled her eyes as Dominick paced the apartment Isaiah had offered her, his critical gaze making the whole thing almost funny.

"Yes."

"Look at how old the furniture is."

Actually, it wasn't half as old as anything she looked for on her own when she sought to rent an apartment for herself. This was in great condition, and the main advantage was, she could move right in.

"Isn't it too small?" Dominick continued, his steps echoing through the living room wooden floor.

"It's more than enough for me and Marcie," she assured him, throwing her loose straight red hair behind her shoulder. Then she stopped, when the idea hit her. "If you don't...do you want to move in too?"

Dominick froze in place, back to her. She could tell by how he rolled his shoulders he was fighting off a reaction he didn't want her to see.

As expected, he turned around wearing that confident smile and the same cheeky glint in his eyes. "It's not really my style."

"Not because of- I mean, if it wouldn't be- wouldn't feel safer for you." She rubbed her palms together, despite the heat. Yes, safe that was the right word. "What if someone goes after you too?"

"I don't think I'm an interesting target. Besides, I have lots of security in all of my apartments."

Melissa didn't want to shoot down his security systems, but it seemed too little against wolves. Or witches.

"Only..." he hesitated, walking in a circle around the living room all the way to the kitchen. "Only if you felt safer. With me here. I'm only 15 minutes down the road though and I can come anytime you call me."

She nodded. She didn't want to put more pressure on him. When there wasn't an audience, his confident shark mask mellowed down a lot. It was easier to talk to him then.

"You don't have to live in the same place, if you don't feel comfortable...yet. But we are going to live in one place...that would help with the marriage story, wouldn't it?"

Dominick's hand went along the counter, seeing how dusty it was. "I have a place for us. Two floors, four bathrooms, someone to cook and clean. You will have every comfort in the world."

Ah. So they were going to live separate lives. Everything planned out so they wouldn't have to bump into each other for anything.

"We don't have to push it yet," she relented. "We can live here with Marcie until the wedding and see what happens then."

He nodded, not looking at her. "I will...I'll get different design suggestions for the place and let you choose what you like. So you can set it up to your taste. I can get it done under a week."

She nodded although she thought it was unnecessary. That was usually they worked since the engagement. All these acts of services. Making sure she knew he would give and arrange her with all possible comforts he could think of.

As if he were paying for every minute of her presence in luxury.em

Everything in her name, to her taste. It was a princess treatment she hadn't imagined in her wildest dreams. She was the fetch girl all her life, she was always proving herself with skills and hard work. It was disconcerting as hell.

Was she trying to show her his power? Capabilities? How rich and connected he was?

Or was it for her sake? Did it bother him what Isaiah said at the meeting? About pretending he cared?

He usually shook off such comments with ease, but something seemed...off today. He was meeting her eyes less, hunched over more and he was constantly moving, like he couldn't sit still.

Melissa liked the place already though. She would pack her and Marcie's things and they could move in here this week already. Let the storm pass.

She was so anxious about it she wished she could speed it up, so it could be over sooner.

His phone rang. He looked at it and then at her, uncharacteristically hesistsnt.

"It's okay," she waved her hands. "It's all done for today. You can go, if you need to."

He looked torn taking the call, then let his hand with the phone down, watching her. "If you woudl like me to...but I don't want to make you nervous by forcing my presence here before you are ready. You have enough to deal with it as it is."

Melissa nodded as he walked into the other room, his voice booming through the walls.

He was good at making things sound like favors — like he was being considerate and thoughtful, when really he wasn’t ready to stay.

...

Melissa didn’t wait for the sound of the front door closing. She curled up on the couch with her arms around one of the throw pillows and let her mind spin in slow, anxious circles until it ran itself out.

She must have drifted off.

When she woke up, the light had shifted. Evening had bled into night, and the air in the apartment felt heavier.

She stretched stiffly and rubbed her eyes — and that’s when she noticed.

The door was still locked from the inside. His shoes were still by the door.

He never left.

She stood slowly, tension creeping up her spine. "Dominick?" she called, moving toward the hall. No answer.

She found him in the bathroom. The light was still on.

He was sitting on the closed toilet lid, bent forward, his elbows on his knees, one hand pressed to his temple. His suit jacket was hanging from the doorknob, and his tie had been loosened, collar damp with sweat.

When he looked up, his eyes were glassy.

"What's wrong?" It felt wrong to step closer. His whole body tensed up and she could see him wince with the pain of straightening, of meeting her gaze with that tiredness. He wasn't bracing for pain, he was swimming in it, soaked with it. There was something terrifying about that awareness, about his dilated pupils.

"I'm fine. Just a headache." He was tilting slightly to the side as if his balance was off, one hand wrapped around the other as if he was holding it straight.

This wasn't new for him. Even the intensity of the pain didn't seem alarming to him. She knew that look from regular patients at the hospital. That resignation.

"You are sweating through your shirt," she observed. Her heart sped up. She wasn't sure how to react. Her clinical doctor side wanted to ask questions, fuss, take care of him. The other wanted to pull back and hide.

She didn’t want to see him weak. Not now — not before the fight they were about to start, the one she’d put all her trust in. In him. In his shark smile and grant promises.

She didn't want a connection from this either. She didn't want to care about this man who held so much power over her life. Saying yes and being mild was hard enough when she didn't care for him.

"Do you have medicine for this?" Melissa asked, trying to stay practical. No need to ask questions she knew he wasn't willing to answer.

How long have you been sick? What hurts? Why? Why are you not fighting it? Why are you not laughing it off? Why?!

"I'm fine," he repeated, his voice sharper now, with jagged edges. "Go home. Leave me be."

She put her hands on her hips, feeling defensive. "Then tell me what kind of help you’d actually accept."

"I don't need your help," he snapped, then groaned, curling his head into his hands.

"Is there anyone else you want me to call?" Melissa said, ignoring the outburst.

A laugh bubbled up. Ironic. "Melissa, please. A headache like this is beneath your attention. Not worth the fuss. I’ll take a short break and head out after."

Such a blatant lie.

If he wanted to take a tiny break he would have lied down in the bedroom, no matter how dusty or unmade it was. He wouldn't have chosen a bathroom.

She scanned him over, his colourless lips, his flushed cheeks, the sweat clinging to his neck and hairline. The tremble in his fingers. The painful frown etched into the forehead that was usually so smooth and composed.

This was not the face he wanted to show her either.

What was she supposed to do? Accept his wishes and leave him to it?

Melissa stepped to the cupboard, looking through it but there were no towels, no washclothes, no linens. No fabric she could use.

Damn it.

She had a light blue blouse over her tank top. The blouse was damp and crumpled from the day, but it would do. The tank underneath was small, a little revealing — but this wasn’t about modesty.

She shrugged off the blouse and put it under the cold water. When it was soaked properly, she turned to him, putting the folded cloth on his nape.

He flinched at the touch, eyes flickering to her now-bare shoulders, the way goosebumps had risen along her arms. "I said-"

"Shut up. We’ve done everything your way today. You don’t get to argue with me now," she said firmly. Her fingers brushed along his cheek and neck, but there was no fever. She focused on his pulse. Elevated, but that could be from the pain.

"Your symptoms."

"Melissa-"

"I can't treat you if I don't know them."

"Does a person not have the right to reject these violating administrations?"

She scoffed. "Why did you choose a doctor for a fiancé then?"

He flinched away from her touch, shuddering. "That's not why and you know it."

"What an added bonus," she said sarcastically.

He was still curled away and tilting even more, like he was about to crumble to the floor. Okay, so the stern approach wasn't working either.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. It wasn't the first time her short temper had made her profession difficult. "Look. You don't have to tell me what this is or prove that this is not why you wanted me here. Maybe you didn't. Maybe you just don't trust me. Fine. But I'm already here, so you might as well make it easier on both of us."

Dominick didn’t answer.

His eyes had closed again, brows still pulled tight. His breathing had slowed, but not in a restful way — more like he was trying to shrink into himself. With that amount of sweat dripping from his face he looked like someone about to fall — not asleep, but apart.

Melissa knelt down, slowly as if not to spook him. Not reaching for him, just close enough that he would feel her presence.

"I'm not trying to win," she said quietly. "I just want to help."

That made him shift, barely. His mouth opened, but no words came. Then he swallowed thickly. "I feel dizzy."

She nodded slowly. Not a full explanation, but it was something.

"Do you feel faint?"

"No." He sounded insulted, but then spread his legs a bit, breathing through gritted teeth. "Might...might throw up if I move though."

"See, that's useful information," she said, already looking for something to use for that purpose. There was a bucket for washing floors and a small bin without a bag. She grabbed it from the floor and put it between his legs.

He squinted at the bin with an angry grimace.

"Do you want me to shut off the light?"

"No. Hurts either way."

Melissa stayed crouched in front of him, steadying the bin with one hand. The other hovered near his knee, unsure if touching him would ground or unnerve him more.

Dominick had tipped forward slightly, his hands braced on his thighs now, knuckles white. His breath came in through his nose in shallow, measured drags, like he was trying to bargain with the pain — to breathe around it instead of through it.

His skin was waxy, flushed in uneven patches. Not quite pale, not quite flushed. His body didn’t seem to know what to do with itself.

She reached out slowly and touched his wrist. “Try to keep your head lower than your heart. That might help the dizziness.”

He didn't pull away this time. Didn’t acknowledge it either.

"Tell me what you need," she said again, more softly.

"I need this to be over." Almost a whine. It pulled at something in her chest. Not sympathy, not yet. But something quieter. Something like dread.

Then came the swallow. A hard, audible one. He brought a hand to his mouth, and for the first time, his composure visibly cracked. A burp fought it's way up, making him flinch with it.

Melissa moved the bin closer. "It's okay."

"I don’t—" He shook his head, still resisting. But his shoulders curled inward, and the next breath he took stuttered.

She saw it before it happened — that tilt forward, that helpless shift in his jaw as nausea overtook pride.

And then he was gagging.

The first dry heave was sharp, wracking his whole frame. She pushed the bin into his hands and he grabbed it tightly before the second burp came. A wet, awful sound followed as milky vomit sprayed out.

Melissa didn’t speak. She didn’t reach for him. Just kept one hand lightly on his arm, helping him hold the bin with the other. Half of his face disappeared in that small container. It would have been comical if he didn't sound so pained as another throaty belch brought up a bubble of puke.

He gasped in a shaky breath, then another retch, rough and miserable, echoing in the small bathroom. It sounded like there wasn’t much left in him. Just pain squeezing through muscle.

"Easy," she said softly. "Don’t fight it."

He coughed once, trying to catch his breath between spasms. There was a whine, like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what. Something about that defenselessness made her throat tighten.

And then she did reach — brushing the damp hair from his forehead, letting her fingers rest there for just a moment, grounding him.

He was shaking. She hadn’t realized how badly until now.

When the worst of it passed, he stayed slumped over, breathing hard, arms braced on the bin. Melissa carefully eased it from his grip, pushing it away. "Okay. You are okay. Just breathe."

She sat beside him on the floor, her back against the wall.

She didn’t look at him. Just sat there, smoothing her pants. "And the world kept turning," she said into the tense silence.

A snappy, rasping sound came from his throat. Could’ve been a laugh. Could’ve been defeat.

Either way, it wasn’t a protest. Even if just for a moment.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

It’s honestly refreshing to have someone lay out all of Shinji’s good qualities. Akihiko had already known that Mitsuru gets it, that she understands Shinji, but god does it feel good to hear it said in true Mitsuru Kirijo style: elegantly stated and thoroughly cited.

For Mitsuru, specifically, to be the one presenting the evidence is also a good thing. If Akihiko had tried making the exact same points, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Shinji would refuse on principle to accept a single word of it.

And maybe it’s also nice to see Shinji be the one getting flustered for once. He rarely ever shows that side of himself, even to Akihiko. It’s been that way since they were kids.

The whole conversation so far has only been round one, though, hasn’t it? They already have another challenge waiting for them.

“So, we’ve, ah–” Akihiko clears his throat. Slowly, Shinji thumbs the edge of his hat up to uncover one eye. He and Mitsuru both peer curiously at him, and Akihiko quails under their attention even though he’d literally just asked for it. “So with that all hashed out… What do we do now? I mean– Do we just– ah–”

His face feels scorched. Is this really so difficult or is he just that bad at it? He knows what he wants to say, so why can’t he actually say it? “Just– start, um–”

Shinji laughs, because he’s an asshole (and god, Akihiko really is beyond help, because the thought is tinged with as much fondness as it is irritation). As if Shinji has any room to talk anyway, when getting nice things said about him was all it took to make him run and hide behind his hat.

“Pretty sure the word you’re lookin’ for is ‘dating’, Aki.”

“I– Yes, thank you, Shinji. I was getting there.“

He’d been hoping that once the question had actually been asked out loud (mostly out loud), it would feel easier.

It does not feel any easier.

He’s out of his depth here. Despite his ‘fans’ and all of the interest they supposedly have in him, he’s never even been on a date before, let alone had any experience with dating as a continuous, ongoing state of being. Other people make this seem so easy– to hear some of his boxing teammates talk, they navigate this obstacle course more than once per school year. How?

Shinji laughs again. Akihiko is half tempted to punch him, but the closest shoulder is the bad one, so that’s not happening. Then the laugh trails off into something warmer, softer, maybe even a little shy, and that impulse to slug him fades away entirely.

“I mean. If you’re really serious, then– I’m not gonna say no,” Shinji says. The look on his face is complicated and hard to put a name to. Something between a soft smile and almost a grimace.

It’s relief, maybe. And if Shinji’s really been wanting this at least since they were fifteen (how on earth had Akihiko never noticed?), then– relief would make sense.

“Yeah, of course I’m serious,” Akihiko nods. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t.”

They both turn to look at Mitsuru just in time to catch some kind of realization darken her gaze. Her summery smile wilts. Her mouth flattens into a tense line and she closes her eyes as though against pain– worse than pained, she looks guilty, somehow.

Something ices over in Akihiko’s stomach.

“Mitsuru?”

“I’m sorry, I…” Why would she think she needs to apologize to them? The chill slithers up into Akihiko’s chest and his heart spasms against it. “Nothing would make me happier, truly. But…”

Mitsuru trails off, as if searching for the correct words.

“But…?” Shinji urges quietly, leaning forward to prop his elbows against his knees. He’s using the same gentle cadence as he does with Yamagishi, and under nearly any other circumstance Akihiko would laugh about Shinji proving his and Mitsuru’s point so easily.

He’s never felt less like laughing. The sudden, careening nosedive the mood has taken leaves him nauseated.

“I’m afraid I may have gotten ahead of myself. I was so swept up in– in the excitement of it all, that I allowed a rather critical complication to slip my mind.”

Akihiko’s head bobs forward; it feels more like his body deciding to move on its own than him telling it to do so. Shinji nods too, prompting silently for Mitsuru to continue.

“Do you recall when I told you about– about my engagement?”

…Oh.

Akihiko does remember, now that she mentions it.

It had been during their first year, not long after the end of summer vacation. Mitsuru had come back to the dorms one afternoon after attending a business luncheon with her father, clearly off balance. By that time, he and Shinji both had become pretty adept at picking up when something was bothering her even when she made her best effort to hide it, and that day had been far from her best effort.

It had taken a lot of coercing (and a little bullying from Shinji) to finally get her to spill about what was wrong, but eventually she had confessed:

A match had been arranged for her with the scion of another powerful company, one of the Kirijo Group’s corporate allies. The luncheon had served as an introduction between her and her new fiancé.

Both he and Shinji had been aghast and incredulous about the whole thing, especially since by Akihiko’s recollection, this fiancé of Mitsuru’s is quite a bit older than her. Shinji’s view on the issue had been especially belligerent (Did he already have feelings for Mitsuru by that point? For Akihiko…?), but Mitsuru had eventually talked them into letting it drop. This kind of thing wasn’t unusual for families like hers, she’d said, and she had assured them again and again that she wasn’t upset, just caught off guard.

Shinji fidgets in his seat. He looks serious and somber rather than outraged like back then. “You ain’t married yet though, are you? Not for a while.”

“That was originally the case, but…” Mitsuru lowers her gaze. “The Kirijo Group is in a rather precarious position after my father’s passing, and it’s been decided that it would be in the company’s best interest to accelerate the timeline, somewhat. With regards to the– marriage.“

She bites the last word out like it tastes sour. Akihiko wants nothing more than to go over to her and hold her tightly, and to hell with manners, but he stays rooted in place. 

“Accelerated it–” He swallows nervously. “By how much?” 

“An exact date hasn’t been chosen as of yet, but the plan is for the wedding to take place soon after graduation. Within that same month, most likely.” 

Shinji and Akihiko share a look, equally shocked. That’s so soon. That’s too soon. Forget anything to do with the two of them, Mitsuru won’t even have had the chance to live like a proper adult yet…

Would she still get the chance to attend university? To study abroad like she’s always wanted? What would it mean for her role in S.E.E.S. if they still haven’t gotten rid of the Dark Hour by then?

“I’m sorry.” Mitsuru lowers herself into an apologetic bow over her hands clasped in her lap, rendering the both of them speechless. “I realize now how terribly selfish it was of me to  say all of this. I’m grateful that we had the chance to speak openly, but it was never my intent to– to bait you with the prospect of–”

Akihiko doubts she’s able to actually catch any of the individual words from his and Shinji’s overlapping protests, but she seems to get the gist at least. She sits up, looking mollified.

“Perhaps that was rather dramatic of me,” she murmurs, looking off to the side. “I suppose the truth is that– I feel as though I baited myself with the idea. I forgot myself, for a moment.”

Akihiko’s limbs finally seem ready to obey him again.

“Mitsuru, hey–” he says, reaching out one hand towards her. “Come over here, sit with us.”

For a moment she simply stares at him. Horror begins to creep up the back of his neck– that was way too forward, it had to be– but it’s quelled when she stands and crosses around the table. He and Shinji both shift a little to give her room to settle between them.

After a brief hesitation, Akihiko carefully (carefully) wraps an arm around her shoulders. To hell with manners, right? She’s trembling slightly, he realizes, but some of that tension drops away almost the instant he touches her.

Shinji seems to be having a hard time deciding what to do with himself (or maybe what he’s allowed to). Eventually he settles on lightly resting the back of his hand against her upper arm, which in Akihiko’s opinion is maybe one of the weirder, more awkward options he could have gone with. He’ll have to remind himself to laugh at Shinji later. Now’s not the time, though, because Mitsuru has started speaking again.

“I couldn’t be…faithful to you both. Any relationship with me would come with a predetermined expiration date. Neither of you deserve that, so, in that regard–” She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders under Akihiko’s arm. “I think it would be for the best if the two of you just–”

“I don’t wanna hear you say we should just leave you out of it,” Shinji cuts her off, quietly but quick as lightning. Thank god, honestly, because Akihiko isn’t sure if he could have gotten his tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth in time.

“Maybe whatever this is can’t be forever, sure. But if that’s your reason to stay out of this, then I shouldn’t be a part of it either.” Shinji continues. “After all, we still don’t know how long I’m even gonna be here.”

“Shinji–”

Akihiko speaks before he even has a chance to think about it, and Mitsuru does at the same moment, their voices overlapping.

”Aragaki…”

"I’m not goin’ anywhere if I've got any say in it.” Shinji makes a placating sort of gesture with the hand that’s not still touching Mitsuru’s arm. “I can promise that at least. I'm just sayin’ it still might not be up to me.”

That’s… that is true. As much as Akihiko hates that Shinji brought it up to begin with, he hates even more that Shinji is completely correct.

“But I know that neither of you’d ever let me even try that argument, so I’m not lettin’ you get away with it either, Kirijo.”

He really wasn’t expecting something like that from Shinji, and clearly Mitsuru wasn’t either. She looks stunned.

“He’s got a point, Mitsuru,” Akihiko urges, hope blooming in his chest again. “Maybe the future isn’t certain, but if that’s a reason for Shinji to go for it, then it can't be a reason for you not to. Right?”

Slowly, her gaze becomes chastened, then contemplative, and then–

Then she smiles again.

“Yes…” Closing her eyes, she tucks a curl of hair behind her ear. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. I– I can’t let this hold me back either. I won’t. I want to have this with you both, more than anything. Temporary or not.”

“Glad you’re listenin’ to sense.” Shinji’s clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but color has flushed back into his ears at Mitsuru’s proclamation. Honestly, hearing her say it so openly also has Akihiko’s head swimming with restless heat.

“But really…” Shinji trails off, then turns his attention to Akihiko. Akihiko blinks back in confusion. “You’re the only one out of us without something hangin’ over your head about this. We oughta be asking you if you’re sure you’re okay with that more than anything.”

Akihiko remains silent for a moment while he mulls over Shinji’s words. He’s really not used to being the somewhat ‘normal’ one in any group, even one as weird as his circle of friends. It seems insane to him– the fact that he doesn’t have any kind of illness or arranged marriage looming threateningly over his shoulder somehow increases the pressure on his decision.

But even knowing that there’s a time limit on this– this relationship, Akihiko feels more and more confident by the moment about what the right thing to do is.

They all want this, after all. They all know how it feels to nearly lose something vital because uncertainty made them hesitate.

But how does he say any of that?

How did they do it, seriously? If they’re experiencing anything even close to the absolute maelstrom that’s got Akihiko’s brain spinning in his skull, how did they ever manage to make something coherent out of it? He feels like he’s taking a test he hasn’t even tried studying for.

Akihiko takes a deep breath, leans forward on his knees, and lets the words come spilling out. 

“...I'm– I've been stuck, for a long time, in this loop thinking 'if I had only done more' or 'if I had only worked harder' or 'if I'd only been better', then maybe I wouldn't have lost someone that mattered to me. 

“But I've been getting a lot of second chances lately. I think I'd have to be an idiot to turn away from one of those chances because I'm afraid of what might go wrong, when I was…when I was lucky enough to get it at all."

He’s not sure where all that came from, but he hopes at least that he got his point across.“Akihiko…” Mitsuru murmurs. He lets his eyes dart up to meet hers only briefly. The expression on her face, and on Shinji’s for that matter, is too– just too much (hopeful, wounded, soothed, touched, warm...) for him to look at for longer than a moment.

[heartinhands]

Cloud's entire life has been watching. Observing. Waiting. He's not that dissimilar from Kunsel and Aerith even though his rank would make other people beg to differ. But no--First Class meant nothing. He was always biding his time, waiting to leave Nibelheim. Waiting to catch the eye of some SOLDIER to recommend him to the team. Waiting for the next mission that would help his rep and shoot him into First Class. Then, what, waiting to go on missions with Sephiroth, his--their, he's Kunsel's too--old buddy, because he thought he had something in common with him? That had been the mistake. Probably. Thinking he could talk to Sephiroth and be on equal footing with him, lend him an ear, be real friends. In actuality Cloud thinks maybe he'd probably made Sephiroth uncomfortable even when they actually got along. After all he did come to Shinra with his heart set on becoming Just Like Sephiroth. Idiot. Obviously that was an isolating experience, one Sephiroth probably resented for a long time before it boiled over in the manor and led to the worst possible outcome. But Aerith might be able to understand that similar loneliness...

No. Cloud refuses to treat her like that or hold her above the rest of her fellow humans; he's no Shinra SOLDIER anymore but it doesn't matter if she's a Cetra or not or if she is more connected to the Planet than the rest of them--she's still just Aerith. They didn't get the luxury of growing and understanding themself. And anyway Aerith might have had the same experiences as Sephiroth but seeing the anger in their eyes when he gets brought up is even easier than saying 'Not interested'--Aerith is not like Sephiroth no matter their shared loneliness. And at this point, Sephiroth is likely to find that diverting path a sin for which Aerith must atone.

Reunion...Cloud shudders.

Kunsel is better at comforting than Cloud is, always has been, gently rubbing at Aerith's terrified arm, pulling her into a loose, watery hug, casual endearments falling soft as cumulus wisps. And Cloud watches. Aerith's green-leaf eyes touch his like a stone falling into water. His eyes meet hers easily, blank, expressionless, ripples of nothing emanating outwards in his irises, a mirror of nothing but mako-blue and extorted Lifestream energy. Why do they look so apologetic? They've done nothing wrong.

"Good," he finally says and realizes his hands stopped shaking at some point a bit ago. Kunsel is listening. Kunsel understands. Suddenly he has a second epiphany: he didn't think Kunsel would trust him. Why? They're best friends. "Good. Yeah." A wash of relief. Kunsel can be saved. This doesn't have to be just watching and waiting anymore. Cloud was bad at action but--someone was good at it. A shroud settles a cheerful pat on Cloud's shoulders and says nice job. "We can settle this before the Planet explodes." In anyone else's words it'd be a joke. Cloud, of course, delivers such a silly line with the utmost seriousness. "We have to. Oh. And. To answer your question... I think we're heading back to the Gold Saucer soon."

@spirestar

What else can they say? How are they supposed to help? They weren't there. They were outside, like Kunsel. Aerith knows her life of hiding, her memories blanketed by cold walls and wonders, idly, if Sephiroth remembers the same. If there were more Cetra, she'd be happy. They wouldn't be the only one who could do--Insert too many things here. She wouldn't be valuable and it would be better. But Sephiroth is. Just ants... Each and every time they're confronted with more than the Midgar propaganda images of the boy soldier-turned-SOLDIER that is Sephiroth, they feel more strongly about their need to stop him. Her eyes are still on Cloud's hands when he finishes speaking like somehow she's caught them in motion blur, watching the last of his shakes trail away.

"He won't do it again." Is she saying it so firmly for herself or for Cloud or for all of them? Aerith really doesn't know. It probably doesn't matter. They're angry and they're tired of pretending not to be. They can't smell the smoke that Cloud can but hearing his breath cut up each word is enough. Sitting with Kunsel in silence for the few times a year they could see each other, watching him try not to cry is enough. They pluck the umbrella out of their drink and wield it like it might be their staff, pointing it at some point on the horizon, some spot between her two friends that's invisible to anyone but them. If she were any less tipsy, she'd never let the cold touch her voice like this, "He thinks nobody can stand up to him. That he can choose for the Planet."

It's so stupid. If Aerith were a crueler person, they might laugh at how nonsensical it sounds from their perspective. Why should any one person have that right? Nobody else is her, though, so it's unfair. Before she says anything else, she drops the umbrella back into her drink and pokes at the melting ice cube there. They don't even realize they're clenching their jaw until they exhale softly, cheeks burning.

"If they send SOLDIER to fight him, you have to get out, Kunsel. You have to leave." This she adds more fearfully, only just realizing the exact way Shinra will want to clean up their mess. SOLDIER for SOLDIER and if everyone's gone in the end, then that's everything mopped up. Green eyes go wide beneath the shadow of her hat brim, finally meeting Cloud's with a half-apology--for?? even they're not sure exactly, for sounding upset maybe? or talking about it more than they have already, for saying things she's not sure she's entirely admitted before--and then Kunsel's with a fierce sort of fervor. "He isn't who you knew. Who--" He's not Zack's friend, he's not the hero Shinra made dance for them in their war--"You shouldn't have to. To--"

@sentmail

[saiwola]

"I'm the eldest, former academically gifted, daughter to a strict, single, working, immigrant mother of a religious, conservative family..."

"And unfortunately, that shows in my taste in men..."

[luvuomi]

“On the 𝔀ings of a small, simple 𝓶elody

Words take 𝐟light and 𝐬oar

They carry me

A 𝒘orld we'll see . . . ”

a single verse that faintly echoes throughout an empty auditorium; written on delicate parchment, it’s penmanship elegant yet faded with time. though an enchanted being meant to be revered by the awe-like gaze of many, this enigmatic dove has chosen to soar beyond the cosmos where it remains out of sight. once upon a time, miss amélie had once taken to the spotlight, dazzling the citizens of penacony with her soft charm that many likened to the moonlight’s glow. but the amélie of today has since retired from the stage—the details of which she did not enlighten me with nor did i push for after seeing that wistful look in her eyes—and now continues her journey as but a humble songwriter for others.

“i wish to lend my voice to others.. for those who wish to be seen, heard, and remembered. there was a time in which i once felt forgotten by the world, overlooked as a dimly-lit star amongst a sky of countless others who’s light burns brightly. in order to be saved, i too must burn.. or so i thought. this song was created at a time in which i wanted to be heard, and i was. in that sense, i suppose you could say i sympathize with them.”

this was the response the halovian had given me when asked to explain what she believes her purpose as a songwriter is. when i asked miss amélie about whether or not she would ever consider returning to the life of stardom, the young lady merely smiled as she folded up the parchment in her hand, before deftly tucking it away in her old song-writing book.

“my story has been told. i have nothing else to share that i feel needs to be acknowledged. in any case, i’m quite certain we’ll bare witness to many more fascinating stories in the coming years.” a pause. “… i’ll make sure of it.”

— an excerpt from moonlight’s silent voice: an exclusive interview from penacony’s hidden star, amélie.

🎨 →⠀﹐⠀╱⠀hsr! amélie was brought to life by the amazing @charlikesalmon !! AAAAA THEY DID SUCH AN INCREDIBLE JOB this is my second time working with char and to say i’m satisfied would be such an understatement🥹🤍they truly captured what i had envisioned and made it a reality AND IT CAME OUT SO CUTE AND LOVELY OH MY GOODNESS.. i would recommend anyone interested to please check them out and support!

[cmentarek]

A collage I made for one of the characters from my newest story. His name is Kundel by the way hes an absolute manfail and a menace

[labyrinthinesyndicatex]

"Practically foreplay?" Anais laughed, shaking her head. "Well, that's one way to make strategic observation sound sexy. Though I have to say, keeping you on your toes wasn't exactly my intention when I walked in here." She watched him order his tagliatelle like he belonged in places with cloth napkins and wine lists, which made her chest do something weird. This wasn't supposed to feel natural. She was here to gather intelligence on Izel, figure out weak spots she could exploit later. Instead she was sitting across from someone who called her survival tactics charming instead of calculating. Battle armor for elegance - that's a new one. She'd spent years perfecting the art of looking competent, never letting anyone see how much effort it took to hold everything together. Her father had been the opposite, wearing his heart on his sleeve until the Solis family crushed him for it. Now here was their princess's ex, seeing right through her careful construction and acting like it was fascinating instead of pathetic. Her throat constricted when she heard the joke about someone eventually noticing and staying. She knew he was talking about Izel, about how their relationship had ended. Perfect ammunition for her revenge plan, except he didn't sound bitter about being abandoned. He sounded like someone who'd learned something valuable about being seen completely.

His dating profile joke about proposing over panna cotta should have been ridiculous. Instead it made her want to tell him she'd never let anyone close enough to see her spreadsheets, let alone her actual damage. Which was definitely not part of any strategic plan. "That's either really romantic or completely terrifying, depending on how you look at it." The honesty slipped out easier than it should have. She wasn't supposed to be giving him real pieces of herself to work with. When he leaned in with his revised profile - recovering charmer seeking someone willing to share the parts of herself she thinks no one can handle - something warm settled in her chest that had nothing to do with strategy. This was dangerous territory, the kind where she started forgetting why she'd called him in the first place. "Not scared off by anything anymore," she said softly. "That sounds like someone who's been through enough to know what actually matters." She picked up her wine glass, using the movement to buy herself time. "And your profile definitely beats mine. Though I might steal that line about sharing tiramisu … assuming you're brave enough to let me order dessert first."

Demir rested his forearms on the edge of the table, fingers idly brushing the condensation off his water glass as Anais spoke. The low amber glow of the overhead sconces made everything feel a little softer—dangerously so. Between the flicker of candlelight and the way she kept folding honesty into her jokes, he could feel himself slipping into something that felt more like confession than conversation. “‘Cataloging everyone’s moves for future reference,’” he repeated with a grin. “That’s practically foreplay in some circles. Watching the room, playing the long game—I’d be offended if you weren’t doing that. Adds to your charm. Keeps me on my toes.” He didn’t break eye contact even when the server appeared again, smoothly giving his order in a low, confident voice—tagliatelle al tartufo—because if they were doing this whole first-date illusion, he might as well lean in. Once their menus disappeared and the waiter was gone, he tilted his head slightly, watching her reclaim her posture like she hadn’t just peeled a layer back and let him see underneath.

“Survival instinct wrapped in a decent blazer?” he echoed, brows arching just a little. “Come on, Anais. You wear control like it’s tailored. If that’s survival, then I’ve been mistaking battle armor for elegance.” His grin softened at the edges. “But hey, I get it. Sometimes pretending is easier than explaining. You convince yourself that as long as no one notices the cracks, you’re still holding it together. Problem is… someone eventually does.” He paused, voice dipping. “And sometimes, they don’t leave.” He noticed the way she scanned the menu without reading it, her smile doing that almost-shy thing it did when she was being more real than she wanted to be. The warmth between them stretched a little wider with every truth exchanged.

“We put so much effort into seeming normal, and then someone sees the cracks and calls them character,” he said, a little slower now, more deliberate. “You think it’s twisted, but I think it’s kind of magic. The kind of magic that only works when nobody’s pretending.” Then the teasing spark returned to his eyes. “And as far as dating profiles go? Yours is definitely in the top tier. Spreadsheets, daddy issues, financial audits—I mean, I might just propose over panna cotta. How does ‘emotionally reckless but fixable’ sound for mine?” There was a part of Demir that wanted to ask about the daddy issues she'd mentioned, but he didn't want to ruin the easy vibe between them on this first official date, especially when he had high hopes for the second one.

He leaned in slightly, voice lowered, like the rest of the restaurant didn’t exist. “But if we're serious, I might make some changes to my profile, you ready?" He paused for dramatic effect before speaking again. "Recovering charmer seeks dangerously intelligent woman with a flair for risk and a fondness for red wine. Must be willing to share tiramisu and the parts of herself she thinks no one can handle.'" He sat back, smile still playing at the corner of his mouth—but there was something real behind it now, something that didn’t try to hide. “And Anais? For what it’s worth... I'm not scared off by pretty much anything anymore. I'm just wondering how I got lucky enough to be here watching you unfold.”

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: THE CITADEL (PART 2)

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Maj. Kaidan Alenko With: Councilor Donnel Udina, Councilor Tevos, Councilor Laiel Sparatus, Cmdr. Armando-Owen Bailey, and Kai Leng And a Special Guest Appearance by: The Illusive Man But sometimes the way a thing goes down does matter, Sophie. Later- when you have to live with yourself. Knowing that you acted with integrity- then it matters. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[scarletfasinera]

Had an opportunity to talk about my goal to read The Anatomy of Melancholy in 2025 with my best friend's brother & his girlfriend. She's a literature teacher, so she recognized it and seemed really impressed by the goal. She's was like "Wow! Isn't it like 1500 pages? That's a really good goal for the year, please keep me updated on your progress!" and when I got really serious and said "I'm GOING to read it entirely. It's my White Whale." she laughed & started clapping & nodding at me.

[brionysea]

I have been reminded that s3 is one big sigh. my disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I can’t remember if I’ve said this here before, but holiday Barbies 2003-2005 were absolutely serving

[red-dyed-sarumane]

aru sekai series iceburg video but its like 12 hours long & i hate recording myself so i make rime say all of it

[salsflore]

been almost 3 yrs and i am still struggling with the whole mikachi first meeting thing. bye