#working on making him gradually uglier

[jupiterjelliez]

go to bed man

[rileyslibrary]

can you maybe do something where like, things simon does when he realizes he’s falling for you? :,)

Let me start by saying that I see Simon as someone more accustomed to others falling for him than the other way around. Like, he is the one who tends to be pursued rather than being the pursuer, if you know what I mean? I don’t know why but I feel he doesn’t have to put too much effort into wooing someone (and he probably knows that). A tall, beefy dude with a rugged appearance and that voice of his? The guy has it easy.

Now, what if he’s the one who falls for someone first? Aha! Well, He doesn’t even realise he has feelings for you, but they manifest in other ways, mainly through actions.

Ghost, as your lieutenant, for example, starts assigning you to low-risk missions or insists on accompanying you to ensure you’re safe.

In a more personal context, Simon offers to pick you up from your home so you don’t have to walk or take public transportation. He might even escort you to your car at night to protect you.

He tells you jokes he thinks you’d enjoy. He absolutely loves it when you laugh; he feels defeated when you roll your eyes and even a bit salty when you already know the joke (or fail to “get” it.)

He pays close attention to the details. He remembers your favourite food, how you like your coffee/tea, and your pet’s name. No, he won’t cook for you (yet), but he’s taking mental notes, studying you.

However, he’s not aware of what he’s doing exactly (or why he’s doing it, for that matter). It’s not until the rest of the team notices and insinuates that there’s something more between you two that he comes face to face with his emotions. Emotions he’s not ready to accept yet.

He rejects the idea that he has developed feelings for you and hopes that by suppressing ignoring them, they’ll fade away. But, as my boy Freud once said, “unexpressed emotions never die; they are buried alive and come forth later in uglier ways.”

He begins distancing himself from you. He rebuilds the walls you once torn down and returns to treating you just like everyone else. He had people he loved before, and it’s only brought him pain. His past experiences have left deep scars, and he’s determined not to go through that again. He’s not just doing it just for himself, though; he also wants to protect you from him and the pain.

Him. Pain. What’s the difference?

You, on the other hand, pick up on his behaviour but don’t confront him about it. “You know how the lieutenant is,” they once told you. “Sometimes he’s all jokes, other times he’s just business.” Maybe, you think, he needs his space. So you begin mirroring his actions, pulling away and giving what he seemingly wants.

But he secretly doesn’t want you to do that. Contrary to what he hoped to achieve by distancing himself from you and, therefore, from his feelings for you, he falls even harder.

Once cocky and arrogant, now he’s insecure. He starts projecting his fears onto you, feeling that you’re the one pulling away, even though you’re merely respecting his unspoken need for space.

So he confronts you. He wants an explanation for the change in your demeanour. And you? Well, you tell him the truth; you thought he needed some space. Right?

Who knows. Maybe you were just respectful. Perhaps you were giving him a taste of his own medicine.

It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he gets it now. Running away from his feelings or those he cares about doesn’t work, just like ignoring his emotions won’t make them disappear. On the contrary, they directly affect both him and you.

Of course, he doesn’t admit it. No, he wouldn’t be caught dead doing that.

Yet, he decides to (re)open up to you, this time gradually, bit by bit, at his own pace. Just for a chance that this calculated, ruthless operator that many perceive him to be can finally transform into a genuinely emotionally invested human being for the first time.

[razrbomb]

— LIKE MANY DAYS before it, Denji finds the time to visit Reze during her off-time from work. Ever since the first day they met, it became part of the routine to meet every day, at the same spot, under the same circumstances: He's free from his devil-hunting duties, &. he spends what little free time he has on her. Today was no different. Right now, Reze &. Denji sit side-by-side on a bench close-by from the cafe she works at, reconvening in the evening right before the sun sets. He's the one mostly doing the talking, taking charge of the conversation with any silly dumb thing that comes to his mind ( though, perhaps with a filter attached; conscious in his efforts to impress her, maybe? ); but, she listens intently, occasionally quipping with her own insights. Close, but not too personal. A performance. A play. A typical back-and-forth that belies no suspicion of her true intentions.

Something about today felt different, however. There's no particularly special reason why. But...

Conversation lands in a stand-still before it falls silent between them. She doesn't respond, &. he doesn't hound her for a reply — simply drinking in this moment with Reze. No one speaks. The hustle &. bustle of the Tokyo cityscape remain. Her gaze remains attached to sorbet-colored scene in front of them, it's natural beauty disconnecting her from the present moment, uncovering her feelings of alienation &. isolation that accompanies living in a new city, unfamiliar to its sights &. sounds. A foreign feeling. Reze laments feeling this way to begin with — over a year later, this gnawing emotion buried itself deep within her psyche, buried but not fully dead, somehow finding a way to resurrect in uglier ways.

Aquamarine eyes appear glassy, yet tears don't fall. She doesn't have the urge to cry; but, something feels lost inside her. Is this homesickness? It couldn't be. There really wasn't a place she could call home. No; what resonated within was an entirely different disease.

"This town don't feel mine..." The words spilled from her mouth, escaping the confines of the prescribed script in her head she was supposed to follow. It could be the looming sunset beyond the horizon of an otherwise bustling metropolis, making her sentimental, yearning for... something she cannot quite put her finger on. Perhaps she was improvising; nay, she was improving on her performance as a lovesick teenage girl. Yet, with him, she tends to push her luck, their hands barely an inch apart; a degree of self-imposed separation that is gradually closing in, inch by inch. A threat to her goals. Fingertips brush, pinky-to-pinky, before she clams up &. pulls her hand away.

Close, but not too close. I'm fast to get away. &. Their brief respite disconnects.

@ledlives : be quiet &. drive (far away) - deftones // lyric starter call.

[cambius]

@recitedemise ﹕ cont. from here.

several months ago , if you would have told nepharia that she would still be here with this lot of mortals , let alone caring about them , the cambion would have laughed at the absurdity. caring about people is a weakness , it means she has something to lose , just another thing to be ripped from her , another thing for her to mourn. but it’s more than that , too. she cares. for the first time in a decade , she cares⸻ and she is struggling with that. especially with gale. because for the first time in her entire life , she feels the sting of being undeserving of something that feels good. and the realization that she’s undeserving of gale’s kindness , and his companionship , comes with an entire can of worms she’s not ready to unpack.

for so long , nepharia has used souls as a way to cope with her own miserable existence ⸻ the only time she feels good , the only time she feels alive , is when she is absorbing the life of another. nepharia has taken so many lives , most of which her patron didn’t even order , so much blood on her hands and hers alone. whenever she looks at her wingless form in the mirror , she no longer sees a strong , powerful , domineering force to be reckoned with. these days she is met with the sight of what she’s always been the entire time ﹕ a terrified little girl. weak , addicted , broken , unworthy. and then if she peels back that surface , she can start to see how much uglier it really gets. she can see the monster. the apathetic killer. she can see that she’s become the thing that once tormented her.

nepharia finds herself spending more and more time with the wizard like this , just talking under the light of the stars and the moon. ever since she lost her wings , she’s found herself gradually appreciating his company. however , she feels as though she is constantly fighting the urge to lash out against the benevolence that gale offers. as if something inside of her knows that he’s going to get hurt with her , because hurt is all nepharia knows. as if that small sliver of mortal empathy she has buried deep within is begging for him to run far , far away from her. and her expression twists with his words , guilt and shame forming upon abyss - marked features , and she has to force her gaze away from the grass to look over at him. the way he looks at her , smiling , saying words that nepharia feels like shouldn’t be meant for her ⸻ it almost feels like a gut punch , ❛ i’m going to tell you something that i’ve never told anyone , not because i want your pity , or your sympathy. i don’t need those , those do nothing for me , so just keep them to yourself , yeah ? ❜

looking away from him ( because she doesn’t have a single chance of getting through this while looking at his face ) , she fixes her gaze on a random spot straight ahead , fireflies blinking in the distance. she inhales , deeply , and begins , ❛ i wish i didn’t exist. i don’t believe there has been a single moment of my life where i’ve felt true happiness , ❜ she starts off apathetic , her words are spoken stoically , but she’s working very hard to make it so , ❛ the only reason i’m even here talking with you right now is because i’m a fucking coward. i’m afraid of dying , because i’m afraid of what my afterlife holds , ❜ her tone shifts now to revulsion and anger for her own weaknesses , ❛ but my existence has been nothing but an unending misery from the day i was born , and i’ve done nothing good with it. i’ve only caused misery in return. and i can’t fucking escape it. existence. i wish someone would suck my soul into a black hole , a vacuum of time and space , so i could experience blissful nothingness for the rest of eternity , ❜ her words are slightly shaken now , but still somewhat apathetic , even as a single tear rolls down her pale cheek. quickly , it is palmed away , and she clears her throat to add , ❛ but when you look at me , it gives me hope , and that scares me too. i don’t want to hope that i might feel happy , and have that happiness ripped away too. i am comfortable in my unending misery , i know what to expect. caring about you has been very fucking unexpected… ❜

[petrichormeraki]

Please imagine the hermits trying to gradually teach Tommy how to become a better builder, but in a way he would actually want to learn. So they gift him metric fucktons of cobble and let him build his cobblestone tower monstrosities while carefully nudging him towards the right direction with small/subtle tips --AA

They've all built uglier things back in their days, but Tommy for the longest time is adamant that his building style is perfect and he's already got it all down. Which isn't...technically untrue, he does make solid towers when he's actually trying! There's just so much more potential in those stone brick stairs, is all.

Then the hermits realize that the problem Tommy has always had was resources, so they fix that by dropping off shulkers full of concrete, bricks, terracotta, anything they could think of that would go well with the blocks he's inclined to use. And it happens nearly overnight.

The builds barely have interiors, but that's nothing to sniff at. Lots of the others barely do interior work either. What's impressive is how Tommy has managed to make a near entire village of houses that look so homely and quaint that they look like they've been lived in for ages.

In truth? Tommy just has that touch. He's not one for big grand statues or giant coliseums, he just is Tommy that needs a place to cook his steak so he might as well. His little starter area becomes a favorite build of a lot of hermits.

[whythinktoomuch]

(pt. i)  (pt. ii) 

She keeps to the darkness, keeps quiet, and keeps her distance, just the way she’s been trained to. She watches Lena, and she does it quite well. The difficult part is settling on the one thing that she should be learning from these endeavors.

Lena does a great many things throughout her day—often up before the sun, and only homeward bound long after it’s set. But after three long days of research, there’s one feature in particular that seems to warrant the most attention: a dark fleck, nestled in the pale expanse of her vulnerable throat.

When she tries to encapsulate the entirety of that observation into words at her disposal, however, all she can manage is, “Lena, not ugly.”

Lex doesn’t reply for a long while, which isn’t typical of him. But his tone isn’t unkind when he finally asks, “Is that it?”

“Yes.” She frowns, because why couldn’t that be it?

But Lex sighs, and that soft sound uproots her peace at its very core. “I wanted you to bring me a fact,” he says. “Not develop an opinion.”

“Different how?” she demands.

“Well, I need evidence.” Lex takes her hand, turning it over to reveal her palm, forever marked and marred from her most recent encounter with Kryptonite. “I need you to show me something. Something real. Otherwise, it doesn’t count. Do you understand?”

And yes, that much is definitely understandable. Even to her.

//

With much repurposed effort, she watches and waits while Lena does her work. Then she watches Lena take her leave, then waits some more.

It’s only when the top floor of the building is emptied of all people that she flies over, slipping into Lena’s office through the balcony door that’s never locked. From there, it doesn’t take long to secure what she’s looking for.

The next time Lex pays her a visit, she drops an armful of her spoils right at his feet.

“Lena likes coffee,” she announces boldly.

Lex is clearly taken aback at first, blinking and still. But then he grabs one of the many empty coffee cups now littered across the floor, and a slow smile dawns on his face. “All right then. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She grins so wide that it strains the corners of her lips.

--

“Lena is cold,” she says the next time they meet, presenting a delicate black glove for his amusement and perusal.

“Yes, well, most people are when it snows,” Lex says.

“Not me.”

“Well, you’re not exactly most people now, are you?” Lex’s pride in her is absolutely infectious, so she grins. “Of course not. You’re… exquisite.”

“Good thing?” she asks. It’s usually the first question that wells up inside of her upon hearing new words.

“A very good thing,” Lex says with a playful wink.

Over the last two weeks, Lex’s visits have dropped from often to somewhat often enough, his precious attention now divided between her and another project of his. It’s been a near impossible change for her to weather, but moments like this make it a little easier.

That is, until Lex slips the glove on.  

She watches him flex his fingers one by one, forcing the taut leather to crackle loudly in her ears, and retreats somewhere deep inside herself. She fights determinedly against the frown threatening to twist her features into something uglier.

The glove isn’t hers. It isn’t Lex’s either, but his hand fits so perfectly that it could very well be his if he wanted.

“Not actually all that warm,” Lex comments, snorting when he peeks inside the glove. “And yet, pricier than your average first class ticket to Paris… Tsk, a little superficial, if you ask me.”

She nods as appropriate, but most of her concern is still with the glove and how Lex stuffs it into his back pocket like it doesn’t mean a thing.

//

“Yes, her hair is indeed very long,” Lex says, accepting the offering of Lena’s hairbrush, complete with stray strands of dark hair still caught in its teeth as ample proof for this careful observation. “This, Bizarrogirl, is absolutely perfect.”

And it is. Because this isn’t just a handful of coffee cups tossed in the trash or a lone glove left behind in the snow during a hasty commute. No, this is something she actually had to break into Lena’s apartment for, in the middle of a workday, undetected even in broad daylight.

But even all that and more couldn’t outweigh the very simple fact that Lex has the means to kill her now.

Evidently, a big part of his new project has been synthesizing a strain of Kryptonite that would only be lethal to her, and he must have succeeded because today, he’s armed with blue-tipped syringes that can pierce her skin.

It’s for research purposes. It’s the only way that Lex can collect blood samples so as to better study her molecular makeup, which will only help her in the long run. Lex, of course, would never hurt her.

Except it does hurt. Each needle sinks into her arm in an acute twinge, and she can feel the aftereffects of the breach crawling inside her head. It’s worse than the green light. It makes her stomach dry out like a rock, and tugs cool drops of sweat onto the surface of her skin.

But Lex must notice this sudden unrest living inside her because he lets her keep the hairbrush.

“Mine?” she asks, cradling the brush in her hands. It’s been relieved of all traces of Lena, but that doesn’t matter. She’s seen Lena use it enough times that it’s still rightly precious.

“No, it’s still Lena’s,” Lex corrects her with a gentle smile. “But you can keep it,” which is the best possible answer he could have given her.

//

She’s watching Lena unwind at home from her favorite spot in the sky, drawing from her x-ray vision and super-hearing with an ease that is now very practiced.

Everything is pleasantly routine until Kara knocks on Lena’s door, which is still very routine until they start raising their voices at each other. They exchange some words that she doesn’t quite understand with many implications that perhaps she will never understand. Then Supergirl is leaving through the balcony, flying off into the night in a blur of boastful blues and reds, while Lena is left behind to yell at herself and cry in unpredictable bursts.

Eventually, Lena settles in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of something that makes the air taste bitter. She’s halfway through her third glass when she slumps forward, her head dropped into her folded arms, breath gradually slowing and deepening.

She watches Lena sleep, waiting until the waiting is unbearable. There are all sorts of reasons why she shouldn’t, but she touches down onto the balcony, sidling into the apartment like a fleeting shadow, and finds herself in Lena’s presence for the very first time.  

The bitter taste is stronger in her nose now, but so is everything else to be perceived about Lena. Everything from her soft snores to the slight warmth her body gives off once within reach.

And she risks that everything for a single touch, brushing her fingertips right where Lena’s long hair starts to end. It’s light, yet stirs something pure, frenzied, and fluttering in her chest. Then Lena sniffles and mumbles into her own arm, “… Kara?” and the moment spills into reality.

Teeth bared, she plucks the glass from Lena’s fragile grip with just enough care that it doesn’t shatter and leaves the same way Supergirl had barely an hour before.

//

She sets the glass before Lex with a firm clack! that calls his attention away from his tablet.

“Oh hello…” Lex sits up with a small chuckle. “And what’s this? Are we celebrating?”

“Lena is sad.”

Lex is out of his chair, his stare wild as he promptly demands, “What happened? What did you see?”

“Kara came. They talked… Supergirl left.” She squeezes her right fist, digging her nails into her palm the way she’s supposed to when things overwhelm her. “And… Lena is sad.”

Lex bursts into laughter. He doesn’t stop laughing for the rest of the night.

//

She doesn’t want to learn things about Lena anymore.

Things are so different now. Lena is quieter, often alone. She spends most of her time at work and not nearly enough time maintaining habits that are meant to keep her alive.

But Lex still insists that she keep watch, so she does, and she still does it so well. She works at it even harder, in fact, now that his visits have become even fewer and farther in between as of late. Lex’s other project is supposedly not as important as she is, but it siphons off his time like it must be.

Lena’s new routine is polished, heavily sanitized, and well-established until the night she breaks it in favor of tasting the nighttime air. She steps onto her balcony in clothes made for sleep and with a glass filled with something more sweet than bitter. Her eyes narrow up at the darkened sky. She stares, as if expectant.

“Hello…? Is somebody out there?” Lena rests her elbows precariously against the railing,  sighing between intermittent sips of her drink. Then, in a softened voice, “… Who are you?” And all of a sudden, Lena’s become tangible and more than just another person waiting for Supergirl to save her.  

Bizarrogirl glides from shadow to shadow, trailing the darkness all the way down to the far corner of the balcony, where she settles in, secluded and silent. Lena doesn’t turn around, but her heartbeat is readily transparent enough for the both of them that it doesn’t matter. “Hello, Lena,” she says.

Lena sighs into her glass. “So, are you the one stealing my things then?”

“Yes.”

“You know… I really thought I was just going crazy. That I was just conjuring up senseless conspiracies because god forbid I ever misplace something like a normal person.” Lena pauses to take a small sip of her drink and chuckle. “But then, you went ahead and took my favorite glass right out of my hand, so…”

She smiles, even though she knows no one can see it. “You are smart.”

“Allegedly,” Lena says, shrugging. She looks over her shoulder, blinks blearily right into the darkness. “You’re really not going to show yourself, huh?”

“No. Never.” She holds her breath, but the follow-up question never comes.

Instead, Lena just turns back around with a small nod. “Believe me, I’d be doing the same thing if I could,” she says quietly, and leaves it at that.

“Not… scared?” she finally has to ask.

“Should I be?”

She shakes her head after some hesitation. “No.”

“Well, there we go then,” Lena says, rubbing at her eyes with a resigned sigh. “Listen… I’m just… so tired right now, and frankly, I just don’t have it in me to address whatever it is you’re trying to do. But to be honest—” she tosses back the last of her drink in a single swallow—“I have enough things. So… consider this a freebie.”

“… Freebie?”

Lena pushes off the railing, exhaling half-hearted laughter. “Yes, freebie. I’m leaving this for you right here, okay? No need to resort to petty theft or breaking and entering.” She sets the empty wineglass right outside her door, but pauses before stepping through. “… So, what’s your name anyway?”

The most obvious answer—so carefully practiced, her clumsy mouth sounding out the word over and over again for her own sake—feels wrong in the moment. A lie, somehow, in the face of Lena’s undeserved generosity.

“You do have a name, don’t you?” Lena glances over, head tilted curiously, and their eyes almost meet despite all the darkness cast between them.

“No,” she manages to say, her fingernails biting fiercely into her own palm.

Lena gives a hum, one so thoughtful and reminiscent of her brother. “Well… that’s something you’ll have to steal from someone else, I’m afraid.”

She watches Lena slide the door shut behind her, but waits until all the lights disappear before reaching for the glass.

//

It takes two more days for Lex to pay her another visit, and he walks into her room to find her turning the wineglass over and over in her hands. He frowns when she doesn’t immediately offer it up to him.

“So, did you learn anything?” Lex asks, and she just nods. “… And…?”

She rolls her right hand into a fist so tight that her entire hand feels like a bruise. “Not. Scared.”

“Lena’s… not scared.” Lex studies the wineglass carefully before directing his sharp gaze back at her face. “I see.”

He doesn’t ask for further clarification, or any other question, or anything at all, for that matter. He just leaves, and she feels nothing about it.

[arigatouiris]

was it a coincidence? // shinazugawa sanemi

Author’s Note: Soft Sanemi anyone? I enjoy writing soft sides of baddies because that’s how they areeeee. Anyway, ever since I got to know Sanemi in Kimetsu Academy is a math professor, I knew this was coming. So here it is! Tell me what ya’ll think! 

Word count: 4412

Pairing: Modern! Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, soft nemi

❝

For as long as you can remember, your interactions with Shinazugawa Sanemi have been strange. You weren’t one to abruptly jump and exclaim that it’s meant to be or the mere cinematic aspect of him popping up everywhere would actually amount to something. Nah, Sanemi as a person gave you very little to fantasize about. But, it was true and some close to you were noticing it after years.

Sanemi and you shared a fateful relationship that forced you to enter each other’s lives unexpectedly. 

It began with middle school. You never knew Sanemi before middle school, but it was when you joined did you understand that your senpai was someone no one could mess with. He was apparently very kind before—but something had happened that changed him. 

You were in your first year of middle school when Sanemi was in his last, and despite not interacting with him at that time, you knew of him. He was brash, would amount to teasing every single person he came in contact with and would pull pranks on other students. Sanemi was a force as a child, and you started to believe that it would never change.

It didn’t. 

Strangely, you joined your first choice of high school—again, where Sanemi was your senpai. This time, as luck would have it, he noticed you. He gave you a mean glare—the meaning of which you had no idea about—that caused you to whimper and look away, not wanting to run into him. You didn’t know Sanemi was part of the high school you chose, which had a fairly decent reputation. Considering his brash self, you never pegged him for a well-achieving student.

Your interactions were scarce—your ‘senpai, I’m sorry’ whenever you bumped into him (you were part of the newspaper club, you really loved writing and editing, some teased that you’d become the English teacher someday). Sanemi wouldn’t even utter your name, you didn’t even know if he knew your name to begin with, but would click his tongue and ignore you. You took that as a good sign because he normally yells at people who bump into him. 

What caused your fascination with Sanemi-senpai was a small yet brief incident during the school festival. His face, at the time, was scarless, so there was a line of girls who wanted a piece of Shinazugawa meat, not considering the fact that he wasn’t interested. Which was weird, you thought, because he could have any man or woman he so desired. But, that was the thing—he didn’t desire. 

Sanemi was criticized during the festival by a faculty member that he wasn’t taking part in the events his classmates were working so hard for. Begrudgingly, he decided to be the cashier for an event—a cat cafe event—and since Sanemi was good at math, he was asked to count and collect the revenue that came in. You and your good friend decided to pop into the cafe just to see what your attractive senpai was doing. You wondered if you were the only one who found him intimidating, whereas the whole population of girls believed his bad attitude was attractive. You wondered if they found him attractive for the wrong reasons.

     “Look at him!” Your friend cooed, and you did look at him, only to spot him doing absolutely nothing and staring blankly ahead of him with no emotion.

Clearly, he was bored and didn’t want to be there. You turned to your friend and felt several sweat drops on your forehead at her wasteful enthusiasm. You didn’t understand what she was trying to do, was she trying to impress him? 

     “I’m going to ask him if he wants to join us for a cup of coffee.”

Your eyes widened. You put your hands forward and shook your head.

     “I really don’t think that’s a good idea—”

     “Why not? You have your eye on him or something?”

You blushed at the accusation, only wishing for your friend to know that Sanemi isn’t someone who can be impressed so easily. You always believed he’d want something else, a wistful type of want where you desire after something you can’t have—Sanemi had a deep aura embedded underneath all that menacing outwardly appearance, which was clearly not who he was. And here was a girl, your friend, who was completely infatuated with his demeanor. 

     “N-No, I don’t think he can stop or pause midway—”

     “No harm in asking!”

Sometimes, you wished you were as upfront as your friend was. You let out a squeak before praying for your friend. Sanemi would yell at her and it would break her heart and you’d have to do all you could to console her and tell her that it wasn’t her but him. However,

     “Would you like to join us for coffee?” Your friend asked with a smile.

Sanemi looked at her with a blank expression, “No,” 

He turned and looked at your bewildered expression and for some reason, you felt so sad. There was nothing menacing about him right then, there was absolutely nothing scary. In one moment, all your apprehensions about Sanemi flew away, and there was no way you were ever going to be intimidated by this guy again. 

He looked down at the counter and muttered, “If you’ve got nothing to buy, leave.”

Your friend giggled and came back to you, but you stood up this time and approached your senpai. Sanemi grumbled before noticing it was you. You, whose face he remembered since middle school, whose name he kept forgetting, whose only reactions were once whimpers when you saw him, which had gradually changed to softer and hesitant greetings to now this,

     “I’m sorry if she was too forward, senpai.”

Sanemi merely looked at you, reactionless.

     “It’s fine.”

And that was that. You were impressed, and the blooming of a crush was formed. The more you thought of it, the more it didn’t make sense, and the more it didn’t make sense, the more you liked it. 

You’d smile at Sanemi whenever you saw him now, a soft smile reserved just for him, which he’d ignore obviously. You’d often bump into him on the terrace, completing his homework on his own. Your heart went out to him, you knew of his large family and how his father walked away and how he managed two more jobs alongside school to take care of his family.

You wouldn’t say anything, because that would make you friends. Whatever it was that you shared, you enjoyed it. 

Wordless, silent, and comfortable. 

You felt your heart shatter at the mere thought of him graduating, but you knew he had to go. He was selected in a college in Tokyo, for mathematics, and you knew he was going to excel in it. You wanted to give him something, you wanted to take something from him before he left, but it was strange—you knew there was no possible way you could feel something so strongly for him considering you were a mere 15-year old and he was close to being 18. 

But, here you were, tearing up on his graduation day, trying hard not to show how much you grew to like the person he was hiding behind the aggressiveness he normally displayed. 

On his graduation day, you rushed over to him—he was again, avoiding people while being on the terrace. 

     “Shinazugawa-senpai!” Sanemi turned to you with a scowl, which you’d like to believe reduced in intensity upon the mere sight of you, “I... I want to give you something!”

He’d thrown out an entire box of buttons the day before and if you were also giving him a button, he knew he’d lose it. There was no way he was going to—

His eyes widened. You were giving him a pen?

     “I know you like pens. I always find that you have a new one every month... Whenever you complete homework. I just... I want you to have it for college—”

     “Ridiculous.”

You knew he didn’t mean it and giggled at his expression. He took the pen from you and shoved it in his pockets. You knew he’d give it a good long look when you weren’t there. He was looking at you now, his intense glare directing at you, wordlessly.

     “Aren’t you scared of me?”

You shook your head as if you were expecting this question. 

     “Why? I haven’t been nice to you in my life.”

He was right. He was rude, brash and arrogant. He hadn’t been nice to you.

     “But, you haven’t been mean either.” You said, smiling widely.

You heard him scoff before coming forward and ruffling your hair. You felt your stomach flip at the contact, but that was all you could expect now anyway. A second later, you felt him hold your hand, your eyes widening at his action—a gasp exiting your mouth as you felt something cold being placed there.

     “It’s a button...” Sanemi was struggling with this, “From my shirt... The second button.”

It was a gold button—big enough as a small pendant for a chain. You already knew what you were going to do with it. You smiled before accepting it, bowing down and wishing him good luck, saying goodbye hurt but this was nice—you were acknowledged, and so were your feelings. Sanemi Shinazugawa was your first love, and that was that.

*

When Sanemi looked at you for the first time, he thought you were an idiot. 

It was a fleeting gaze, you see a person as you pass the corridors, never to spot them again or remember their face. Some faces you remember because they were prettier than the rest or uglier than the rest. Some you remember because they had a weird hair color or a big nose. Sanemi remembered your face because it looked like an idiot.

Who smiles like that anyway? Like a dumbass with no care in the world? Oh, so birds like you? How childish. He couldn’t waste his time looking at someone like you. You were three years younger than him, you were practically no one. 

When Sanemi looked at you properly for the second time, he was confused. You were once again his junior in high school. It confused him, how you—of all people—you had turned up as his junior in this school. It made no sense. Funnily enough, he didn’t think you were an idiot this time. You were kind of cute but were shyer than before. 

You would whimper whenever he scowled at you, which again, he found a tad bit cute but also insulting. He wasn’t a ghoul for you to look so afraid of him. But, something had changed—he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but things had changed after the school festival.

You voluntarily walked over and spoke to him about your dumbass of a friend hitting on him. He realized that there was no use yelling at girls who found him attractive, because 1) he knew he was attractive, and 2) he really wasn’t interested in them and 3) they approached him more when he yelled at them, and this last point made no sense to him whatsoever. 

But, you approaching him made no sense either. In fact, it confused him more. You would greet him whenever you saw him, sending him a soft smile or a wave, whatever was appropriate at the time. 

Around this time, when Sanemi looked at you, he thought you could be someone he could talk to. You could sit in silence for hours and he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. You wouldn’t try to fill the space with awkward conversation or small talk—two things Sanemi hated the most. You were just comfortable with him when he completed homework, and you read a book or did something else he didn’t quite pay attention to.

He paid attention to the fact that he didn’t pay attention to you, which meant he was paying attention to you. When Sanemi understood this, he wanted to be around you more but his graduation was approaching and it was as if reality was letting him know that it was either too late or never going to happen.

However, he had always been a weird sort of fighter. When Sanemi gave you the second button on his shirt, he took a good long look at you. It was the third time he had allowed himself to give you a long, customary Sanemi-look, which took a mental picture of you for him to remember when you were not around.

When Sanemi looked at you, that third time, he knew for a fact that you would one day become his wife. 

*

There’s no way... You were bewildered, and it was as if fate wanted you to fail in the subject you hated the most. You were excelling in English and that was what you wanted to study. You didn’t want to study anything else, you were, in fact, very happy that you had your entire life sorted out at the young age of 18. You were going to attend college and get an English degree and you were going to teach.

How good is math in your life? Not very.

How good is math in your life if your first love, senpai from the past, senpai from middle school, was the one teaching you?

You were definitely going to fail.

The aura he brought into class as he was introduced as your new class’s assistant faculty was menacing. You had actually almost forgotten what this feeling was—but as soon as he stepped inside, you were reminded of it brutally, as if the aura had never walked out on you at all. He had scars on his face now, a story you knew you’d probably never know. Sanemi didn’t even look at you, you believed he forgot about you; but you stupidly still wore his button around your neck—people often teasing you about a long lost senpai you were crushing on from the past. 

Everyone remembered Sanemi, everyone was scared and no one knew that the button belonged to him. It was a secret you were sure were to take to the grave, but now the chances of that were slim. 

     “This is why I think fate is modulating your interactions with Shinazugawa-sensei!” Your friend exclaimed.

     “It’s nothing like that... I think he just got a job here and it’s paying well—”

     “What if he came back for you?”

You rolled your eyes. There was no way he’d have come back for me, you thought, your heart flipping at the mere thought. You watched as Sanemi walked into another classroom, hearing rumors about how he was incredibly strict with his students. That didn’t surprise you at all, and in fact, you liked how serious he was about the subject he liked. A soft smile sat on your lips and you were lost in thought until—

     “Thinking about Shinazugawa-sensei?” Your friend teased you before you growled and pushed her away playfully.

Once you were alone, your fingers traced the texture of the button he gave you, which was still around your neck like a small charm. You’ve worn it for two years now—the two years he wasn’t there. It wasn’t as if you never had crushes after that, you did. You even had a relationship in school, the cute and fleeting glances, hand-holding and the first kiss. You had your first heartbreak as well when you caught your then-boyfriend sticking his tongue down your junior’s throat.

In two years, you believed you had moved on from Shinazugawa-senpai, no, -sensei, but turns out, your feelings returned tenfold with him just walking into your class. 

     “Is there a problem?” Sanemi growled at one of your classmates, who was asked to solve a question on the board.

You gulped and thanked the heavens it wasn’t you. You definitely didn’t know how to solve the question, and you didn’t want his wrath falling down on you. However, you knew of him and you knew him. You knew he just wanted his students to learn. You watched as he loudly explained how to solve the question, and you unconsciously took down notes, actually paying attention. 

     “Any questions?” He snapped at the class, which was dead quiet.

Your hand went up in the air, bringing down a deathly aura around you. You looked so intrigued, your eyes closed and your hand in the air steady, your lips curved into a soft smile. 

     “I have a question.”

You were sure your classmates were fully intent on killing you and hiding your body, but since the class time was up, no one had the obligation to wait. 

     “Get out.” Sanemi told the rest of the class, and you assumed was the rest of the class because you didn’t budge, as the class exited the room, relieved. 

     “Sensei, my question—”

     “What is it?” 

You stood up and brought your book over, asking him the question. Calculus was very hard, and you weren’t very good at it. Sanemi took one look at your notes and knew you were struggling, but you were trying. He normally hated it when his students were bad at his subject, but then there was you—you, who were really, really bad, but was also trying very hard.

He explained calmly and you kept asking him to repeat—annoying him, making him yell at you, but you patiently listened, looking bashful. When you finally understood, you thanked him, and bowed, causing the button pendant to slip out from inside your collar and dangle. You hadn’t noticed it was showing, but Sanemi had. His eyes widened just a bit before noticing you walk away, causing him to stare at the pen he was using to explain a math problem to you.

The pen you had given him.

He knew of his shortcomings, but it was rare to find a person who wasn’t appalled with his attitude. He was sure of it, though. He’d looked at you properly for the fourth time and thought the same thing he thought when he looked at you properly for the third time. 

*

During your graduation, you missed meeting Shinazugawa-sensei, but luckily for you, he gave you a smirk when the assembly was about to begin. You didn’t know what the smirk meant, but on the rare times you had seen it and your heart flipped, this had managed to do the same once more. You unconsciously touched the button necklace, something Sanemi noticed you do (and he knew what you were doing because he had given you the damn button). 

You attended Tokyo University, Sanemi’s alma mater, for English. It was only for a year, luckily for you, and you knew you were going to have to come back home for your family. You’d look for a job there, but what you didn’t know was one of your old faculty members was teaching in Tokyo. 

     “You should join Kimetsu Academy!” He said, patting your back.

Your heart flipped at the thought of your old school, the school where Sanemi teaches still. He had been your senpai, your sensei, and if you were to join Kimetsu Academy as a TA, he’d be sensei again, but so would you.

Although part of your motivation in joining Kimetsu Academy was teaching in your old school, you couldn’t deny joining Kimetsu for Sanemi. You weren’t sure if he was married now—you were 22 years old, which meant he was 25. You were hyperaware of him and what he was doing and you knew he would be surprised with this move. 

On your first day, you took your time walking through empty corridors. You remembered the locker you used back in school, where you’d place your outdoor shoes and your indoor shoes. You let out a sigh as you walked past your old classrooms, feeling warm on the inside. 

     “How long do you plan on wasting time?”

You jumped and turned around to spot Sanemi, leaning against the opposite wall, looking at you as if you were crazy. Your eyes were wide and you felt like you were going to have a panic attack. Your heart was beating erratically, and your mind was blank. You were not ready to see him yet, you wanted to see him surprised and yet, here he was, surprising you!

     “Shinazugawa-senpai...” You voiced, placing a shaky hand against your heart. “You... You scared me—”

     “You still wear it?” 

You blinked, “Eh?”

Sanemi pointed to his own neck and your eyes widened. Your face reddened and you let out a soft squeak before earning a throaty chuckle from him.

     “H-How did you... I mean—I... It symbolizes the essence of my childhood, it’s... it’s not what you—”

     “Shut up,” Sanemi said, sighing. “Didn’t really think it’d be goodbye for real, did you?”

You blinked, confused. 

     “What do you mean?”

He took one good look at you. The fifth time. And when Sanemi smiled at you, you thought you’d actually die.

     “Life keeps throwing you back to me. Didn’t think it’d be a fucking coincidence, did you?”

     “What did you think it was?”

You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. You weren’t sure why this felt like he was confessing to you. He merely shrugged and walked away, leaving you there with more questions than answers.

A month passed, with bare minimum interactions. You had made new friends, and you were getting better at teaching and handling a noisy classroom. You wore your button necklace with pride, flaunting it almost, sending secret smiles to Sanemi who sent you secret glances in return. Soon, the secret glances were late-evening interactions, when the two of you would stay back to correct answer papers. 

It was one particularly long night when you realized you were utterly and irrevocably in love with Shinazugawa Sanemi. You still had four more sheets to go, and the time was over 8 p.m., in the night. Sanemi was still in the staff room as well, correcting his own bunch of papers—cursing here and there about how terrible kids were at math. You’d generally interrupt with a mild conversation, but Sanemi noticed how you hadn’t uttered a word in over an hour. He paused, noticing how he had one more paper to go, and turned and looked at you.

You were engrossed in reading the students’ papers. You had a stern look on your face, the sternest you could conjure, and you were chewing on the back of your pen—a habit Sanemi hated, but found adorable when you did it. He took a good long sixth look at you right then, your hair messy, your eyes having heavy bags underneath them, your fidgety fingers, and he thought the same thing he thought when he saw you for the fourth time and the fifth time. 

He was so sure you would become his wife. He was so sure. 

But perhaps, the sixth time he looked at you was a bit different. Sanemi felt a strange nostalgia upon seeing you, wearing his button around your neck with pride, remembering how the first time he saw you he thought you looked idiotic even. He hadn’t realized he was watching you for a couple of minutes now, in utter silence, and enjoyed the whole while.

Oh shit, Sanemi’s eyes widened. Oh, fuck.

His mother had warned him about how Shinazugawa men fall in love. They fall rock hard and it would most often kill them. The realization hits them at a young age, they were sure of what they wanted and Sanemi was sure as well. 

But for the first time in his life, he was floored. 

     “Oi,” He let out, a serious expression sitting on his face. “(y/n).”

He had resorted to calling you by your first name, not that you complained.

     “Hm?”

You were paying the papers more attention than him. You really were a good teacher. 

Sanemi stood up and walked over you, you weren’t even aware that he was approaching you, and stood by your side. He looked at the papers, the long answers and the amount of red pouring into them. He looked at your head and leaned down, his mouth right next to your right ear. You shuddered when you felt a breath on your ear, but you didn’t move.

Slowly, Sanemi pressed his lips to your cheek and stood there, waiting for a response. He didn’t want to scare you—he hated scaring you, but he did enjoy flustering you.

You were frozen like a rock when he pulled away. Sanemi wasn’t one to casually give off affection like that, but there were times you knew he could be gentle. You turned slowly, to meet his gaze, his hand supporting him as he bent down to your level. Your face was bright red, but your eyes were intense. 

     “Shina—”

     “No.”

You gulped. You understood him too well to know what he meant.

     “Sanemi-san.”

He grinned before looking at your lips once, twice and then into your eyes before noticing your hands reach up to his cheeks. The sexual tension was palpable in the air, and just as soon as your hands touched his cheeks—he took the plunge. He kissed you, like Sanemi would, rough and passionate—his hands buried themselves into your already messy hair and he kissed you some more. He captured your lips into his own, before pulling out and kissing your jaw, your neck, and your eyes, before plunging and kissing you again.

You gasped when he brought you to a standing position, pulling you closer to him and kissing you harder, but also softer—a compassionate side of Sanemi’s most people were not allowed to see. 

When he pulled away, it was as if you would die if you didn’t tell him.

     “Sanemi-san, I... I love you.”

He knew. He knew it from the third time he had seen you. He grinned before laughing, confusing you, offending you—but you had seen it.

Your eyes widened a tad bit when you saw the adoration he had in his eyes as he looked at you.

The seventh time Sanemi Shinazugawa saw you, he was floored; he was deeply, and devastatingly in love with you.

And while people relied on words to express their feelings, there you were. You were fluent in Sanemi’s own internal language. You had always been. And it had always, always been you.

     “For... For how long have you—”

The question was left hanging in the air for a bit before Sanemi answered how Sanemi would. 

     “Shut up.”

❞

[scoundrels-in-love]

Climb on your tears like a ladder to a rose, baby (There's a time to rest, There's a time to move on)

Three times Brienne doesn't have a birthday party and the one she does.

--

Brienne-centric | Angst and Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Grief | No Major Character Death | Birthday blues | And gradual growth | Happy, Hopeful ending

Also on AO3.

--

Disclaimer: This work is in no way or form related to author's personal life or personal wish fulfillment. /s

That said, early Happy New Year, everyone! Thank you for sharing so much love and creativity, whether in procuring new content or amazing comments, or pressing that kudos button!  Best of wishes in the 2021, may we all find healing or at least a glimpse of hope it is possible.

I

Brienne is ten and there is a movie on the large, chunky TV that sometimes needs to be smacked to work right. Specifically, there's a birthday party scene, complete with pretty banners and colorful balloons in shapes she didn't know were sold, and they're singing Happy Birthday and the child is blowing out birthday candles. Making a wish. The girl shares it with her friend later and Brienne scoffs, because everyone knows you're not supposed to say your wishes out loud. (That way, your dad's eyes don't get sad when he knows he can't fulfill it.)

Other than that, she doesn't really think about it much, never has. It's as foreign to her as the palm trees and sipping juice from a coconut. She supposes it's real to someone, somewhere, but not to her. People of Tarth have a different song to sing, but most of them don't sing any at all, nor did they blow out candles before they picked the tradition up from Mainlanders recently.

At least, that's what Brienne thinks. It's not like she's been to any birthday parties. But that's what her dad has told her of how he grew up. And that's how it continues in their household.

She gets a tight hug and a kiss on top of her head and a few presents, and a cake that doesn't have a shiny candle in it, but tastes just as good.

It's good and it's warm, when winter winds run hungry for snow to chase, and she doesn't wonder if she'd be like that kid in the other movie, the one to whose birthday party no one came.

She doesn't.

II

She is twenty three and she is picking out her own birthday cake. Her eyes skip over the number candles, because she's far too old for that kind of thing, and she doesn't even want the cake. She just doesn't want to think how sad he'd be if she didn't buy it. It’s her first after his passing and the thought of his worry is sharp. It’s never been deserved, but inescapable, because that’s what parents do, except she never managed to do what children are supposed to - to provide and take care so the final years are long and kind.

The cake blurs slightly as she exits the store, across the street from her apartment complex that seems to have lost the last of its colors in these winter months and the few strung up Sevenmas lights highlight that.

Brienne thinks her peers would call her insane if she told them she thinks winter in King's Landing is a lot more bleak than the ones she spent on Tarth. There is sharp quality to the contrast between the pale sky and darkening, rich color of water, even the jagged cliff edges stretching toward the horizon. It keeps one vigilant, wakeful. Here, the mild autumn grows more dulled and wraps everyone in an unassuming cocoon that slowly drifts toward spring, which finally hatches not quite rested.

But they have called her uglier things, too.

"Words are wind," her dad would tell her, but the wind isn't the same here, it doesn't take anything with it, only swirls dust around her. Brienne chokes on it, chokes on the echo as well.

Her father had loved the best he could, loved her truly, and if that rent ravines in her ribs, prone to collapsing in on themselves until she stacks them up again like a house of cards, then what hope of being loved gently, wholly, purposefully does she have?

She misses being hugged and told it's okay even when it's clearly a lie. She misses the certainty that her own love wasn't selfish. "He is in a better place now," they had told her, as if it didn't mean she had failed him utterly, repeatedly, until she had carved a crypt in the stone with her pacing?

Brienne falls asleep crying in a bed that doesn't feel hers, but she can't remember last time anything did.

III

Brienne is twenty eight and she pauses at the hallway mirror to fix her ponytail. There is half eaten cake on the kitchen table, bought at half price as leftover from Sevenmas, and a freshly opened wine bottle. It's the same kind her dad had brought her for her eighteenth birthday and she's never bothered to find another one she likes. (It tastes like the kind of summer she's never had.)

In this light, it's hard to tell if the shadows beneath her eyes are from the bit of mascara she had tried to scrub away a minute ago or the exhaustion she unintentionally cultivates like a little succulent garden on the windowsill.

She doesn't focus on the ugly or the beautiful of her face now, it's not what caught her attention. Brienne just stares at her reflection and thinks how she looks neither young nor old, that she just is. And that she has no idea what it means.

Shouldn't she know? Shouldn't she know by now? Shouldn't she be past the age where she is grabbing at dream colored smoke? Shouldn't she...

Brienne looks away before the first tears fall.

She eats her cake and thinks how her dad had told her that hawthorn and cranberries alike turn almost sweet after the first frost. How many frosts have been there now? Brienne's lost the count and the feeling of warmth alike.

She ends up drinking a little too much of the wine and going to bed early, looking at the single candle-look alike flickering on the table and willing herself to sleep after this completely ordinary day that should’ve been something, but it never is. (She isn’t.)

+ IV

Brienne is thirty six and her sides hurt from laughing.

She extracts herself from the couch corner, which Jaime immediately expands into like a lazy cat while flashing her a grin. When she comes back, he might try to coax her into his lap and maybe she will even concede.

She opens another juice carton and refills her glass, leans against the counter and watches her friends arguing over a board game in the living room. It's odd, to know you belong and yet to be so aware of it in this moment, and she cannot quite throw herself back in there, even though it is no mirage she could simply crash through. Instead, Brienne follows the cool and tethering moonlight that has looped itself around her feet.

She steps out into the garden - because that's a thing she has now. There is a thin, crunchy layer of snow that will bite through her fluffy slippers any moment now, chasing her back inside. But for now, she cranes her face toward the sky, sending white little puffs of breath chasing after clouds that slip across the moon.

The door opens behind her and she doesn't look who it is, because there's no one here that she'd want to hide away from. She's lucky, Brienne thinks, that trust was never a truly foreign concept to her, though she's had to learn how to expand it and recognize its many forms like a toddler would with a shape sorter.

Arms wrap around her waist and Brienne allows herself to lean back and rest against Jaime's chest as he props his chin on her shoulder. She considers telling him that she's fine, because she likes to say that, now that she knows how it feels to truly mean it, even if it's not every day. Instead, she allows the bittersweet ache in her chest to mend itself with his quiet warmth.

She hopes that next time she dreams of her dad, she can tell him of this night, to not worry quite so much, and that peace sounds a little like the sound of her friends' laughter drifting through the door left ajar and Jaime humming in her ear.

[tabloidtoc]

Us, May 10

You can buy a brand new copy of this issue without the mailing label for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: The George Clooney nobody knows

Page 2: Red Carpet -- Full Mettle Jacket -- stars prove they have the courage to bare legs in varied stylings of the blazer dress -- Rita Ora, Zendaya, Olivia Culpo, Hailey Bieber, Jamie Chung

Page 3: Constance Wu, Addison Rae, Kourtney Kardashian, Emily Ratajkowski, Ciara

Page 4: Who Wore It Best? Lisa Bonet vs. Bryce Dallas Howard in The Vampire's Wife, Rachel Zoe vs. Molly Sims in Rachel Zoe

Page 6: Loose Talk -- Anderson Cooper on how he's not a fan of Andy Cohen's son's hand-me-downs for his son Wyatt, Patrick Schwarzenegger on Arnold Schwarzenegger using his iconic catchphrase from the Terminator films in real life, Lizzo revealing she drunkenly sent Chris Evans a flirty message on Instagram, Chris Evans' response to Lizzo shooting her shot, Jane Fonda recalling a time a bear was in her bedroom

Page 9: Contents

Page 12: Oscars 2021 -- The Best Dressed -- Zendaya

Page 13: Andra Day, Regina King, Viola Davis

Page 14: Hollywood's Biggest Night -- the 93rd Academy Awards -- Minari's Yuh-Jung Youn with her Oscar standing next to Brad Pitt in a man bun

Page 15: Reese Witherspoon goofed around backstage, Daniel Kaluuya holding his Oscar, Halle Berry, Tyler Perry holding his Oscar, Riz Ahmed and wife Fatima Farheen Mirza on the red carpet, Joaquin Phoenix

Page 16: Frances McDormand with her Oscar and Chloe Zhao with her Oscar, Isla Fisher made sure husband Sacha Baron Cohen's tux was lint-free, Glenn Close left the room in hysterics when she demonstrated Da Butt dance, H.E.R. with her Oscar, Margot Robbie on the red carpet

Page 19: Hot Pics -- Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton's son Prince Louis on his first day of preschool

Page 20: Furever Family -- dog moms show love to their canine kids -- Kate Beckinsale studied her lines while holding dog Myf and cats Clive and Willow in her arms, Rachel Brosnahan with her dog who is filled to the brim with 'tude, Camila Morrone stepped out for fresh air with one of her dogs in L.A., Priyanka Chopra Jonas and her dog Diana spent the day snuggling, Camila Cabello goofed around with her dog Tarzan

Page 22: HGTV host and designer Tiffany Brooks, Lindsey Vonn paddleboarding in Tulum in Mexico, Rami Malek enjoyed a meal with longtime girlfriend Lucy Boynton on the terrace of their hotel in Zagreb, Croatia

Page 24: Stars They're Just Like Us -- Ed Westwick riding a rollercoaster with girlfriend Tamara Francesconi and pals in Chertsey in England, Elsa Hosk ate breakfast in Pasadena, Ashley Greene fed the parking meter while running errands in West Hollywood

Page 26: Love Lives -- Khloe Kardashian and Tristan Thompson ready to commit (oops)

Page 27: Garth Brooks is Trisha Yearwood's person no matter what and in previous relationships, she was really ready to bail when things got hard, but with Garth, that's not an option because this is the love of her life and there are things he does that drive her nuts, but at the end of the day, he really is pretty great

* Though they've been trying to stay under the radar while in London, Harry Styles and Olivia Wilde have been spotted grabbing pints at local pubs and going on strolls and they're very cuddly with one another

* Nina Dobrev and Shaun White are in it for the long haul and they're very happy together and their loved ones wouldn't be surprised if the snowboarder proposes to her soon -- while they've only been together for a little over a year, the pair are really excited about how far this relationship has come and they're gradually taking steps to starting a future together

Page 28: Hot Hollywood -- Lori Loughlin and Mossimo Giannulli are ready for a fresh start and now that they've completed their prison sentences for their roles in the college admissions scandal, the pair is looking to trade in the glitz and glamour of L.A. for a more low-key life in Idaho because they want to get away from it all and a second home up north will leave them far from the prying eyes of the public -- while they recently downsized to a smaller home in Hidden Hills, Lori and Mossimo were prepared to make another move earlier this year, but eventually decided to stay in L.A. as their daughters really wanted them close by at the time, but now that Isabella Giannulli and Olivia Jade Giannulli are on their own, Lori and Mossimo are excited to experience life in Idaho and they feel this will be good for them; they can start anew and work on their marriage together

Page 29: It's safe to say Prince Harry is not returning to the U.K. for a very long time and is feeling unfulfilled and upset after Prince Charles and Prince William ambushed him in a reunion meeting following his and Meghan Markle's bombshell TV interview -- they didn't take any responsibility, which is partly why Harry rushed back home to his pregnant wife and their son Archie; Harry is worried they'll never understand his point of view and to make matters uglier, Harry is also getting an inkling that his father and his brother, who is being coached to be king, are trying to freeze him out, but he has no problem with that because between his deals with Netflix and Spotify and his new gig at BetterUp, Harry's made a great life for himself in California

* Keeping Up With Us -- Gal Gadot revealed she recently severed her fingertip while cooking and her husband Yaron Varsano tossed it in the garbage disposal, Hayden Panettiere's ex Brian Hickerson has been sentenced to 45 days in county jail on two felony counts of injuring the actress last year, Caitlyn Jenner is officially running for governor of California, the creators of Framing Britney Spears are working on a documentary about Janet Jackson's infamous 2004 Super Bowl halftime show but she and Justin Timberlake won't be involved

Page 30: What's in My Bag? Vanessa Lachey

Page 32: Cover Story -- George Clooney: Life, Love and Turning 60 -- six decades in, he's still going strong and a source close to George talks about the star finding his soulmate Amal Clooney, parenthood and the near-death experience that set him straight

Page 36: Jana Kramer: Picking Up the Pieces -- how the devastated star is coping in the wake of her split from her cheating ex

Page 37: The Lonely Hearts Club -- these stars are also either breaking up or cooling off -- Katie Holmes and Emilio Vitolo Jr., Lucy Hale and Skeet Ulrich, Zac Efron and Vanessa Valladares

Page 40: Spring Trends to Try -- life (and the weather) is warming up so step back into the style scene with comfy-chic wardrobe updates -- cool crochet -- Olivia Palermo, oversize trousers -- Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, the shacket -- Gabrielle Union

Page 42: Entertainment -- Bethenny Frankel is tackling yet another project with her new reality competition series

Page 46: Fashion Police -- when bad clothes happen to good people -- Howie Mandel, Priyanka Chopra Jonas

Page 47: Justin Bieber, Sofia Vergara, Jeff Goldblum

Page 48: 25 Things You Don't Know About Me -- Sunny Hostin

[synoxshots]

In the morning there’ll be hope

Today on Rishi, she'd made a difference. She'd saved people. She hadn't realised she'd been saving herself too.

Yalla'ra meets with the ghost of her former master on Rishi, and begins the path to redemption.

One-shot. 

Notes:

It’s Yalla’ra’s redemption fic!

Based around the Jedi Knight class mission during Shadow of Revan. Much of the dialogue is lifted from the game, directly or paraphrased, as a lead in to exploring her character at that point in the story. Deals with the Incident with the Emperor, so there’s touches of PTSD there. 

2634 words. Cross-posted to ao3.

“Everything you've just heard? It's important. Remember it. But...it can wait a little while. There's something I want you to see.”

Yalla'ra whipped her head around, to be met only by the same empty corridor leading from their makeshift base. But the voice had definitely been real. And so familiar...but it couldn't be, surely not again after all this time.

“Who's there?” she called out, her voice reverberating off the walls of the otherwise empty corridor.

“Follow your feelings, and you'll find it.” A force presence flickered for half a moment before retreating again, as if daring her to give chase. But why now? Why here?

She inhaled, taking slow, deep breaths and bowing her head as she reached out with the force.

She knew where to go. She didn't know why, or what, but there was something she needed to do.

* * * * * * * *

The house in Raider's Cove was empty, a rare moment of peace amongst the hubbub and constant bustle of the town outside. The silence unnerved her at first, a sharp contrast to the roaring shouts of pirates and screeches of the monkey-lizards that roamed the streets freely in the Cove.

The room wasn't shabby, but appeared to have gone abandoned and unnoticed in recent months. Furniture was sparse apart from the most basic table and chairs, all coated in a thin, unbroken layer of dust. The jungle of outside had started to take its hold, potted plants and trees extending from their confines to crawl up the walls and spread their leaves, making the room feel smaller than it actually was.

In appearances, she was alone. But the force swirled around the room with the presence of another.

“I grew up here, you know. In this house, not just on Rishi. Of course, I was young when the Jedi found me. Don't remember much beyond the walls, a blanket, a few friendly faces...”

A cool blue light started to flood through the room, gradually taking the shape of a man she knew so well.

“Master Orgus, it is you.” She couldn't help the smile she formed when the face of her old teacher finally emerged.

“...it seemed as good a place as any for one last visit. Hello, Yalla'ra. It's been a while. Have time for a final lesson from an old friend?” He stood now in the room with her, a ghost fully formed and bathed in a blue light. Warmth emanated from his presence, a sense of safety she'd so rarely known since his death.

“It's good to see you, Master. You know I'll always listen to any lessons you have to share. But I have to ask, why now? It's been so long since you...” Her sentence trailed away as she tried to fight back the shudder the memory always gave her. She'd tried to forget it ever since, hide it deep down inside where even she couldn't reach, until only flashes remained.

The one constant had always been her Master, saving her, pulling her out of the darkness.

“You've been fighting without pause for so long, ever since you set out to defeat the Emperor, or even since you landed on Tython. You've been waist down in dirt and fear and blood. The war's gotten uglier since he fell, and dark times still lie ahead – for the galaxy and yourself. Maybe it does seem like a strange time, but time can always be found when there are lessons to learn. Of course, whether you act on my advice has always been something else, hm?”

“So you've sensed what's ahead?”

“Only a little, but I'm worried you'll forget why you're fighting. Truthfully, I'm worried you might have forgotten already. Defending the Republic, vanquishing the Sith, those are tools a Jedi uses in the service of life, of people – but they're not ends unto themselves.”

She swallowed and turned away from her master, trying to stop her voice from faltering. “You think I kill out of passion, out of hunger. You think I've embraced the dark side.” The tone of accusation undercut her words even as she tried to avoid it, but she knew they contained an element of truth.

“I'm not here to scold or tell you how to fight,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “I'm here to help you reconnect. We're going to take some time out to help the people here. The ordinary folks, trying to make their living whilst in fear of guns and pirates. You can do more good than you know. And you'll feel why you're a Jedi.”

“But Master, I know what you're saying, but it can't be that simple. And I have an urgent mission, the Revanites-” she protested as Master Orgus raised his arms to stop her.

“Always in such a rush, never settling. We won't let the galaxy die because you stop to feed a child, I promise. Trust me, humour your old master, eh? There rarely is a good time, but I know you can't go on as you are.”

She sighed, trying hard to release her frustrations back into the force. What he said made sense, his intentions were pure, but so many other things needed to be done, and she didn't have the luxury of time in the same way as him. Yet she rarely won these debates with her master, and if he'd taught her anything, it was that there were some battles with him it was better not to pick. He could reach her in a way the other masters never had. A kindness and understanding, a reasoning he offered, that felt less like the lectures the council were all too happy to give when she dared disagree with their ideas.

And he'd saved her before, after all. Maybe he was right, and she needed saving again. If there was anyone she owed a debt to, anyone who deserved the benefit of the doubt, it was Master Orgus.

“Okay. Where do we start?”

“There are lots of people without homes on Rishi. Those people are catching Tanamen Fever; on Corellia, they'd cure it for free but here, no one much cares. Apart from you – Doc can treat a person in minutes, you've got a ship packed with food and medicine.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Yes, you do,” Orgus smiled. “No Sith Lords or ancient evils this time. Just doing a bit of good.”

* * * * * * * *

Despite her best attempts to heed her master's words, doubts still crept back into her mind as she left the house. Yet the more she worked, the more those words rang true.

She wouldn't be remembered for this, she wouldn't get recognition, but since when had that become so important?

Being a Jedi wasn't about rank and titles, or it shouldn't have been. But being denied the rank of master in such a public way had become a sore point that burned away at her, an undercurrent of bitterness rumbling inside each time she spoke with the council. Her achievements spoke for themselves, and everybody else saw that, so why not them?

Instead all they gave her were beat downs and admonishments. Constant scoldings about putting her emotions aside, not letting darkness rule her actions.

They had a point. But she wouldn't admit that when they only lectured her, and never offered solutions to resolve it.

Master Orgus had been different. He'd still been firm of course, but he actually helped her through her mistakes rather than just offering up the same old Jedi platitudes and then calling on her the next time a crisis needed solving with a lightsaber.

It wasn't that she didn't respect the council, of course she did. But sometimes it was like she was little more than the blade she carried, and they forgot about the person attached to it until afterwards. She was the best fighter in the Order, to the point it came as easily as breathing. She travelled the galaxy without rest, dropping in for the action and leaving before seeing the consequences.

But as she saw now, there were always consequences. Always people left behind at the mercy of the galaxy. People mattered – ordinary people – not just her enemies. They were forgotten too easily. She had the ability to help them, but she rarely took the time. But they were just as important, if not more.

Master Orgus was right. She understood now.

* * * * * * * *

She returned to the house alone, knowing she needed to do this by herself. Her boots were caked in mud and dust from her endeavours, her clothes damp with a mixture of sea water and sweat from her work. And yet, she was satisfied. Even as she'd tried to cast aside her doubts and understand her master's reasoning, she still hadn't expected to find the work so fulfilling. Even the force had brightened around her as she completed those simple tasks, warmer and more comforting than she'd known it for a long time.

Her master wasn't corporeal, but she could sense his presence in the room as she entered.

“Master Orgus?”

“You know, when I died – it's still strange saying that – it wasn't my victories that gave me comfort.” The radiant blue light of his ghost began to fill the room, taking the shape of his body again as he spoke. “It was all the faces of the people I'd helped that made the pain forgettable.

“If you last long enough to see the war end, how will you live? How will you find comfort when your time finally comes?”

She paused, allowing herself the time to think. After defeating the Emperor, she'd given thought to settling down. Running away with Doc, away from the Order, somewhere she could put down her lightsaber and be free from all the responsibilities forced upon her.

But defeating the Emperor hadn't been the end. The war still rumbled on: take down the head and a dozen more threats spring up to endanger the galaxy. She couldn't let herself stop until they were beaten.

The day's events had allowed her to refocus, reconnect. But how long could it last? A brief respite perhaps, but the war still raged on, and she could never turn her back upon it.

“I used to think...I wanted to leave my lightsaber behind when the war finished. But ending the Empire won't put an end to the conflict. The struggles won't just disappear, and I have a duty to fight that fight until the end.”

Her master smiled sadly at her, staring with his sympathetic eyes. “But when there is struggle, hope can still be found. There may still be a path for you to find simplicity. If it's what you want, I hope you find it.

“I've lied to you a little today. It's not just been about reminding you why you fight, though that's important too. But I know there's still an old scar you're trying to hide from. You've tried to forget, but it still aches inside you.”

“Of course...the Emperor,” she murmured, more to herself than to her master. It made sense now, why he was here. What else?

“You were under his control for so long. His darkness soaked through to your spirit. You pushed the memories of his training down so deep when you were freed. I can bring them back for you now, I know you're strong enough to handle them – let the light cure them and make you whole.”

She started pacing across the room, looking anywhere but at her master. Her breathing had become frantic, even her force-sight starting to blur.

There is no emotion, there is peace. She tried to cast her emotions aside, but she'd long struggled to find solace in the code. Feelings always bubbled to the surface too easily before she could ever release them into the force. Such a display was embarrassing in front of her master.

Was she really strong enough to face those memories? She'd pushed them so far inside, but had never shaken the fear of them. It defined her too much, ruled her actions more than she cared. At times she was barely better than the enemies she dedicated her life to destroying.

No. She mustn't let the Emperor win again. Her master was right. She knew what she had to do.

“I faced him on Dromund Kaas. I won't fear him in my memories any more.”

“Nor should you. Fear only leads to hate, as I'm sure you know. But today on Rishi, you felt love.”

Light crept into the room, slowly at first, until there was nothing else. Everything came back, all those months lost, flashing through her mind all at once.

It hurt, all of it. Every fibre of her body, every nerve was on fire, her head ready to burst.

It wasn't just those months. It was everything since.

The guilt. The hurt. The suffering.

She saw it all.

Their faces. Everybody who had lost their lives as a result of her actions. Not just imperials. Jedi, too. Allies from that fateful trip.

Warren Sedoru. She'd broken free of the Emperor, so why couldn't he? But she hadn't given him the chance.

Tol Braga. A part of her held him responsible, too. Putting them through all that, then turning to the dark side. Like it was all for nothing. She couldn't control her feelings when she met him again. But he'd always had so much hope. She could have helped him come back.

She blamed the Emperor for all that darkness. But hadn't it been a part of her before? There'd been light in Bengel Morr and Praven, but she'd been too overcome with anger to realise it. Sajar, who needed her help, and she'd pushed him closer to the old ways he'd been trying to free himself from.

But none of that was the worst thing.

That was remembering how good the dark side had felt.

How it had embraced her like an old friend. How seductive it had been, an electricity coursing through her veins. The power it had given her, unlocking levels of her potential she'd only dreamt of. It had come so easily, been so natural.

The Emperor had ruled her mind, but had she even needed much persuasion? Was it not the power she'd wanted all along? Had she not been reaching for it again ever since?

No.

Not at that cost. To others.

To herself.

Today on Rishi, she'd made a difference. She'd saved people.

She hadn't realised she'd been saving herself too.

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the force.

Somehow those words made more sense than they had before.

The light retracted, retreating into her core. The guilt remained, but there was something different from before. Something she'd not realised she'd missed for so long.

Was it hope?

“I'm...I'm whole.”

“Then it's my time to go,” her master said softly.

He'd always had faith in her, even when she wasn't deserving of it. He mattered more than he knew.

“Master Orgus, thank you. Thank you for everything. For training me, keeping faith, saving me so many times. For all you've done. May it bring you peace.”

“It already has, padawan. You won't see me again, but you won't need to now. You won't be alone in the dark days ahead. The force is with you, always.”

The force was always there, she just had to remember to listen to it. Reach for it, let it comfort and guide her. Face the darkness in her past, but not let it define her. Dedicate herself to the path of the light. She would make mistakes, but now she would face them rather than hide them.

There was always room to change. She could make things right.

[honmyoseagull]

Obscure Reference in fic #9 :

Maybe it is the old tumor in his brain coming back to life one last time, maybe it is just his mind sinking completely… But suddenly, they’re everywhere. The devils. The red devils. (Psychotic break, I guess, Daken will tell later, with an unconcerned shrug.) He kills one, but there’s still hundred of them, all around him. He goes on a rampage. The more he kills, the more there are. He only remembers in a blur the red silhouettes taunting him every hours of the day or night. He makes a carnage, as far as he has heard. Innocents cut down in the streets like flowers in a field.

In NO LOVE FOR THE OLD MEN (chapter 2) https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562846/chapters/73085847

Well, it’s not actually an OBSCURE reference. It’s quite a well-known episode as far as Bullseye is concerned, right? But any excuse to have a look again, right? 

A few littles notes on these pages : 

Lester IS pretty (if a tad grumpy) in his civilian mugshot on TV, you’ll notice. (Of course it’s the before tumor style, after which he goes bald and somewhat eyebrowless for a while apparently. Because of a treatment? I don’t remember…) It’s funny how Bullseye has gradually started to get a bit uglier and uglier in the way he was drawn as decades have passed, right? And how sometimes it’s quite forgotten he’s a blue-eyed blond these days?

Also I’ve always loved the way we see the world through Lester’s eyes during his little psychotic break, here… (While the audio remains the one of the real world, which should be a clue to him, but fails to, so freaked out he is by his red devils hallucinations…) It’s also quite frightening how he keeps moving forward causing carnage, a real nightmare... There’s an inexorability to him that’s impressive in spite of his mental distress. (Imagine being in that street and see that coming at you, right?)

And a last one, juste under here…

 I love how the transition is very VERY nicely made from Bullsie’s POV to the world at large’s POV in the second panel from left to right, just by the way the people are dressed…

[funeralbelle]

gillian jacobs, joel mchale, and any other community cast of interest + 👥

SEND ME AN FC + 👥 TO SEE A CHARACTER I’D etc etc

gillian jacobs

I rly love the idea of her in a Pagliacci role!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I feel like her vibes during her depressive episodes in Love really radiate that suicidal clown energy and I would def play her as a small time comedian who tells herself that she’s constantly chasing near-death situations in search for material and not in search for oblivion.

also she’s been in so many raunchy movies that i feel like she could definitely play a nymphomaniac. and this is maybe an unrelated tangent but,,,  you see a lot of promiscuous female characters in the rpc, but i’ve never seen one who’s actually interested in sex..? usually the trend is female characters who feel unloved and use sex as a fill-in or gateway to a sense of intimacy. and this isn’t any shade at, like, nina’s character zelda or yam’s character nikki (especially because i use the same trope with my character genie), but when you combine all of the muses with this characterization together, i feel like we as a community accidentally enforce the idea that women don’t get titillated and just use romance as a bargaining chip for love?? 🤪 

idk maybe it’s just my experience but i always see the love-starved harlot more than any legit horny girls so lets get more of those and lets use gillian jacobs for the roles because thinking about it now i’m pretty sure that even her character on Love has that same characterization. damn

joel mchale

I’m determined!!!!!! to use him for something!!!!! 

my first priority is gwen’s rp americana; originally i thought he would be good for The Professor bt i haven’t had any rly novel ideas to bring to the table for that skeleton yet and i wanna avoid using him in the same career as his Community character. plus i think i’d want to play him in a skeleton that compliments him being like 6′5″ and jacked. hes also rly.. aryan looking… so he could make a perfect Detective if i can get over my hang-ups and play a cop in remotely good faith. but failing that i might end up applying for The Suspect w/ him.

on the flipside, I feel like he’d be rly good for a p.i. character that’s been floating around my head for a long time but whom I haven’t rly had the chance to develop bc I’ve pretty much just been in college rps for the last half a decade. woulda considered this muse for MW if i wasn’t already planning to bring in tom/sal.

that character is a Hunter S Thompson type— tragically optimistic and repeatedly outraged every time mankind disappoints him; constantly trying to believe in the best of people in an industry where he’s dealing with the most depraved individuals. tried to unionize his private investigation firm (love the futility of trying to organize behind the back of the boss of a band of snoops) and wound up getting underhandedly fired so he had to go independent. hardened more in demeanor than heart; numbs the hell of being repeatedly let down with a rock & roll lifestyle that he should’ve outgrown in his thirties. still clinging onto a Gen X obsession with authenticity that obnoxiously makes him roll his eyes at any cashier who smiles and tells him to have a great day. comes across as crass and tactless, desensitized to vulgarity and clumsy when it comes to tenderness despite perpetually yearning for it. compulsively anti-authority to the point of impairing his judgment at times; easily manipulated by anyone who portrays themselves as an underdog. probably comes from a family without a nurturing female presence; could definitely picture him with a businessman younger sibling whom he resents because they’ve “sold out” (read: they’re flourishing financially) while he’s 48 years old and has no sheets on his bed because it’s been a week and he still hasn’t taken them out of the dryer and he keeps passing out on the couch anyway so he’s not really thinking about it.

The biggest struggle in using McHale for this character is that he’s a little too fratty and it’s hard to picture him as this chainsmoking gonzo. but i try to play fcs against type and i feel like he always gets cast as characters who are wealthy/charming/two-faced/detached/nihilistic, and this is definitely as far away from that as i can get. maybe ill do a deep dive into his filmography and find something where he wasnt playing a white collar hunk or douchebag. idk…,,we’ll see. maybe ill use a completely different fc for that character and use mchale for one of the americana skeletons instead?? idk i havent gotten that far yet but i cant stop making gifs of him i’m having so much fun i want to use him so bad idk

one last option is like… ever since those reddit stories got popular, ive always wanted to play a search-and-rescue officer for a national park? and i feel like he almost has forest ranger vibes in the later seasons of community when he has the beard. i dont know where i would play this character but to be fair i have literally no clue where i would play a private investigator either so it’s. yeah

donald glover

i played him back when i used to write in rly wild and campy/comedic supernatural/genre plots!! the original conceit of that character was a law school dropout who swindled an eldritch demon out of his almighty powers, but had such low motivation in life and such a one-track mind that he never thought to use it for any kind of world domination, and instead tried to use it to win back and impress her by giving himself a promotion to manager of the bowling alley he worked at, or make her life without him seem subconsciously bleaker by doing innocuous bullshit like making her breakfast cereal have less marshmallows in it than usual. i don’t know if i would revisit him, but if i did it might be fun to have him have a jackass genie type of relationship with another character in a 1x1, or drop the supernatural aspect entirely and reimagine him as a burnout who suddenly inherited a huge amount of money, only for it to gradually be revealed that it came from some shady means, or something. i don’t know. fucking love his tag on my blog though

alison brie

I think one of the reasons I resent Annie Edison so much is because you can tell Dan Harmon was too obsessed with her to let her be the butt of any jokes or make her look bad in any way, and so even though Alison Brie is an extremely charming and funny actress, she never got to portray any really human or interesting flaws, because all of Annie’s negative traits were just the kind of corny weaknesses you list in a job interview (she’s just too driven!!! a perfectionist to a fault!!~~) and I think that by season 3 she became the thing every viewer was worried Britta would be in the pilot (boring moral compass of a carrot dangling in front of the male protagonist to motivate his character growth). And it just feels like a waste of an actress who could easily find humor in an uglier character and make them sympathetic. So I genuinely want to do something like that with her, like make her a former activist who completely sold out her morals for a gig as a commentator on a corporate news outlet or working on softening PR for some Raytheon or Lockheed Martin type of company. I also love villains with her mousy-petite-big-blue-eyed disney-faced look who are more perniciously manipulative and unsuspecting, so I’d love to do that. 

on an unrelated note: she looks sm like natalia dyer and especially after she got really skinny circa 2016, she would be a rly good timeskip cast for the older, strung-out version of my character max? 

wld definitely gif brie in Sleeping With Other People & How to Be Single & Community s5 + s6 if sage and i ever went through with that timekip plot or if i ever found a place to play a conniving daffodil.

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

BEASTARS MINI-STORY #3: “The Pitfalls of Thin Walls pt. 4″ (Final Part) by JCL

Legosi, who has now changed into a new t-shirt and sweatpants, stares at something with a deadpan look in his eyes. HARU: "So... How do I look?" We see that Haru has changed clothes too: She is wearing a pink blazer over a pink shirt and a pink skirt, basically looking like a rabbit-version of Jackie Kennedy. Legosi continues to stare at her. Then he begins to go pffffft as he fails to contain his laughter. Haru on the other hand looks anything but amused. LEGOSI: "I'm sorry, but it's so not your style!" HARU: "Damn straight it's not my style, none of this is mine to begin with!" (That woman next door...!) -- We see a flashback, where an apolagetic Sebun is standing in the doorway of Legosi's apartment. HARU: (It was nice enough of her to apologize for making such a ruckus and even borrow me some of her own to me in the meantime, while she is having mine and Legosi's clothes washed) A yakisoba-covered Legosi and Haru stares at her as she talks. Legosi looks neutral, while Haru looks pissed. -- Back in the present, Haru looks down at her borrowed outfit and adjusts the skirt, all the while Legosi is doing his best to keep from laughing out loud. HARU: (I am grateful we have about the same size, though what is up with all this PINK? Is she part flamingo or something? Plus, if it hadn't been for her...!) She thinks back to when she and Legosi were about to kiss in the last part and gets a melancholic expression. Anime-tears of frustration begins to run down her cheeks. HARU: (DAMN! We were so close!) Legosi, who seems to have tapped out with all the laughter, points at Haru's clothes and tries to cheer her up. LEGOSI: "On the plus-side, it does make you look more mature." HARU: "Oh yeah? Well," -- We are now in Sebun's apartment, where we see that Sebun has joined the rest of the gang with a glass of her own pressed against the wall. HARU: "-who wouldn't look like an old spinster in these clothes?" This comment seems to hit Sebun like a brick. Her offended expression gets covered by a dark aura of self-conscious depression as she begins to mutter through clenched teeth: SEBUN: "OLD SPINSTER...!" A textbox with an arrow pointing at Sebun appears. TEXT: 29, SINGLE AND OVERLY SELF-CONSCIOUS ABOUT IT Ebisu gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, though like the rest of the gang, he can't help but to find the situation humorous. EBISU: "There, there..." -- Back in Legosi's apartment, Haru exhales. HARU: "My folks are going to have a laugh, that's for certain." Legosi smiles and puts his hands in the pockets of the sweatpants. LEGOSI: "Probably... It's been a pretty strange day, hasn't it?" HARU: "Eventful, though not that strange." Haru begins to count up the general events of their  dinner-date with the help of her fingers. HARU: "I mean we had dinner, I got drunk, we (kind of) went to second base, had some coffee, sat in the wok and played dress up. I'd say it was a pretty fun dinner-date. Generally speaking, I'd say it was pretty normal too." Legosi looks surprised, then cocks a brow. LEGOSI: "You really think so?" HARU: "Well, maybe you shouldn't take my word for it, I mean I didn't exactly do dinner-dates before we met. Or even date for that matter." LEGOSI: "Really?" HARU: "Really-really. I was a tramp, remember?" Haru's blunt acknowledgement to her past prompts Legosi to adopt a thoughtful expression. HARU: "Though maybe we should avoid contact with liquor from now on, I mean I don't want to nurse a hangover each time afterwards." Legosi walks up to Haru with a determined look in his eye. He stops, and looks down at her, like he wants to tell her something important. LEGOSI: "Haru... " HARU: "Yes?" LEGOSI: "I..." Legosi bites down on his lip, like he's struggling with what he's trying to say. Haru looks a little confused. HARU: "What?" Though, we see in Legosi's background that he is thinking about his mother, his father and his grandfather. This morphs into uglier details of his family history, including the last time he met his mother, his father walking away and disappearing and how badly treated his grandfather has been on account of his species. We can see in Legosi's face that he struggles to process all of this, like he wants to share it with Haru, but just can't. His arm suddenly shoots back and points at the terrarium. LEGOSI: "You know, I haven't named that beetle yet." HARU: "Huh?" LEGOSI: "I was thinking about calling him Smoochy, you know, after that movie with the pink rhino, but..." Haru blinks and notes with a deadpan voice: HARU: "That is a terrible name." Legosi nods and fidgets with his fingers. LEGOSI: "Exactly. I've always been bad at naming things, and back when you talked about us having a daughter, you said a lot of good ones. So... I wonder if you'd like to name him for me?" Haru continues to stare at Legosi, like she's thinking 'this is what he had such a hard time saying?' LEGOSI: "It could be your housewarming gift." Haru looks past Legosi and onto the rhinoceros beetle. HARU: "... Josuke." Legosi blinks. LEGOSI: "Josuke? Why?" Haru puts her hand in front of her forehead and extends a single finger from it, imitiating a horn. In her background, as an illustration, we see a wolf-version of Josuke Higashikata from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. HARU: "His horn makes me think of the hairdo of a character from a manga I used to read, named Josuke." Legosi looks happy, like an enthused kid and turns to greet his freshly named pet. LEGOSI: "Josuke huh? Oi, Josuke!" Haru rolls her eyes and proceeds to open the door. HARU: "Anyway, I think I should be leaving now. So... Bye." She begins to walk out into the corridor. Legosi however quickly turns and catches up to her in the doorway. LEGOSI: "Wait." Haru stops and turns around. Legosi goes down on one knee so that they are on the same eye level. LEGOSI: "Look, I want to be honest and upfront to you about my family... But I'm sorry, I just can't tell you about all of that right now. I can tell you about my grandpa though. He practically raised me all on his own. He is a good person; probably the friendliest and most considerate person one can meet." As he talks, Haru's expression gradually softens. LEGOSI: "He is strong, honest and would go to hell and back to protect his loved ones. You two are the ones I care about the most... And I want you to meet him some day." HARU: (Strong and honest... So that's where you get it from?) "I would love that." Then, straight out of nowhere, Haru darts forward and plants a kiss on Legosi's lips. Legosi's eyes widen, though before he can react further, Haru pulls back with a grin. HARU: "See ya." She then begins to skip down the corridor. Legosi seems like he hasn't quite processed what just happened, and stands frozen in the same position like a statue for a second or two. Then his face goes completely red and he bolts back with a flabbergasted face. As he begins to compute that he's had his first real kiss with Haru, he gets to his feet and calls to Haru. LEGOSI: "HEY! Haru!" Haru stops, turns around and gives him a sneaky look. HARU: "What? You can surprise me with dinner and I can't surprise you with a kiss? Get real! When you're with me, there'll be plenty more surprises!" She then disappears out of sight down the stairs. Legosi touches his lips with his fingers and then gives off a little laugh. Then a sudden crash is heard nearby. Legosi turns his head to see what caused it. What he sees is that the gang in Sebun's apartment, including Sebun herself, has fallen out through the door. They're now piled on top of each other, looking awkward as Legosi stares at them. The only exception is Zaguan, who is standing in the doorway and giving Legosi a little wave. ZAGUAN: "Hello Legosi!" LEGOSI: "What are you doing?" Sebun, who is at the bottom of the pile, sweatdrops. SEBUN: (I forgot to close the door again...) -- EPILOGUE #1 Haru is now back at her parents house. She is taking off her shoes in the hall when her father comes out, holding a cup of coffee. HARU'S DAD: "Hey honey, did you have fu-" He gives her an odd look as he notices what she's wearing. Then he begins to go pfffft and proceeds to laugh out loud. Haru shoots him an annoyed look and begins to stomp away to her room. HARU: "Grrrr....!" She passes her mom, who looks after her with a questioning look. She then turns to her husband. HARU'S MOM: "Who was that lady just now?" Haru's dad can't stop laughing. -- EPILOGUE #2 We see that Sebun is now at her job, sitting behind her desk and working a computer. She is wearing dark pink jeans and a light pink turtleneck with her sleeves rolled up. She looks a bit uncomfortable though, as she is gaining the attention of at least five male co-workers.   HYENA CO-WORKER: "Whoa! New outfit huh?" COUGAR CO-WORKER: "Looking good in the new duds Sebun-chan!" COYOTE CO-WORKER: "Pink is a good color on you!" SEBUN: "Uh, thank you..." (I've worn these clothes before though!) -- EPILOGUE #3 We see Raika, with Fina on his shoulder like usual, walking back to their apartment. He scratches the back of his head and gives Fina a look. RAIKA: "Um, no reason in particular for bringing this up, but if it hadn't been for scale and proportion, you'd actually consider dating me?" Fina gives her roomate an ugly look. FINA: "No. Comment." -- EPILOGUE #4 We see that some time later, Legosi has regained his and Haru's clothes from Sebun. He is currently inspecting his t-shirt. LEGOSI: (The clothes are nice and clean again) He then looks confused as he holds up yet another copy of Harold and Kumar go to White Castle. LEGOSI: (Though why did Sebun give me a copy of Harold and Kumar too?) -- THE END

[tracies-tales]

If you take requests for one shots- Egobang where Dan thinks Arin could do better than him and tries to push him away but Arin won’t have it.

oh you know i love me a good one shot!! here goes:

Dan’s eyes were settled on the table in front of him, hands clasped loosely between his legs. They hadn’t drifted from the point they were staring at for god knew how long. It had finally happened; he and Arin were dating. Dan knew he shouldn’t be happier, wouldn’t dream of asking for more–so why did his chest still ache so bad?

He pursed his lips, knowing what was gnawing at him. Arin deserved better. His co-host showered him in compliments at every given opportunity, and Dan could barely keep up with returning the affection Arin so rightly deserved. It just wasn’t enough. Dan shut his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but his mental barriers were already compromised. They seeped in, circling his head like vultures, whispering, You’ll never be good enough, He only agreed to date you because you pushed him into it, As soon as someone better comes along, he’ll leave, and where will that leave you?

Dan tucked his legs up to hug them, burying his nose between his knees. On one hand, he wanted to tell the thoughts none of that was true. On the other, he believed every word, and it killed him to know it. The sooner you rip off this Band-Aid, the easier the pain will go away. Only, Dan was positive it was still going to leave a hell of a scar. Breaking up with Arin now would be better for them in the long run, stood a better chance at preserving their friendship rather than risk an uglier one down the line. 

As soon as the door opened, Dan picked his head up, a jolt of fear tingling down his spine. Even approaching the topic in his current state of mind would break him. It was too late to fix the way he looked, though; to Arin, Dan was an open book.

“God, Daniel, you would not believe the size of the dump I just–what’s wrong?” he asked. Dan knew he must look broken if Arin was willing to interrupt a story about his own bowel movements.

“Nothin’, man,” Dan tried flashing a smile anyway, just in case it’d actually work, “please do continue with your riveting tale.”

Arin sat down next to him, and the concern in his eyes was enough to shatter Dan’s facade. Arin started to reach a hand out towards his face, but Dan leaned away, averting his eyes. That only served to make Arin look hurt and himself feeling guilty. “Dan,” Arin said gently, keeping his hand half outstretched, “talk to me.”

Watching Arin’s hand gain a slight tremble was more than Dan could bear; he could sense how badly Arin wanted to close the distance between them, and god did he want it, too. “Arin,” Dan started, trying to keep his voice steady and horrendously failing, “listen, I…” He bit his lip. Just say it. When he found his voice again, it sounded small, “I think we should break up.” He ducked his head, both ashamed to hear it from his own mouth and also refusing to see what Arin currently looked like.

The next thing he felt was a shifting weight in the couch cushion, Arin’s hand gently cupping the side of his face. This time, Dan didn’t pull away, not even to stop the tear rolling down his cheek from falling onto it. “Where’s this coming from?” Arin asked, sounding like he was forcing himself to remain calm.

Dan lifted his hand to cover Arin’s and felt the flood walls breaking. “You deserve so much more than me,” he spilled, grasping Arin’s hand. “Can do…so much better. I don’t want to lose what we already have by-”

“Stop,” Arin interrupted firmly, his voice so commanding so abruptly it stunned Dan to silence. “What the hell? I thought you weren’t doing weed anymore.”

Dan knit his brows, “I don’t, and weed doesn’t really work like that.”

“Well something’s clearly got you fucked in the head!” Arin retorted. “What is it? Did you trip and fall down the stairs on your way down and hit your head, like, twelve times?”

Dan couldn’t help but snort at that, “That’s such a specific number.”

“Well I’m trying to figure out why you’ve suddenly lost your goddamn mind so pardon me if I sound a little whacked out!” Arin retorted, his voice gradually rising in pitch and speed.

Dan tilted his head into Arin’s hand, some strands of curly hair falling into his eyes, though he didn’t bother to move them. “I’m thinking just fine, Arin,” he replied, growing somber again. “I just…don’t want to hold you back.” He finally turned to meet Arin’s eyes, “It’d be better to just remain friends and not risk…”

Arin didn’t even blink. He asked, “Do I make you happy, Dan?”

The question struck him so hard Arin might as well have punched him in the jaw. “Of…fuck, of course you do!” Dan clutched at his hand with renewed vigor, “I’ve never known happiness like I’ve known it when I’m with you.”

“Then that’s more than enough reason for me to want to keep dating,” Arin replied, brushing a tear away with his thumb. He gave Dan a smile, “You’re more than I deserve. And if making you happy is the way to even begin paying you back for everything you’ve done for me, then, shit…I don’t know how to finish that analogy,” he chuckled.

Dan giggled in response; Arin’s laugh had always been contagious for him. “Dude, that’s gay,” he said, voice getting choked up.

Arin pulled him into a tight hug, “It’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

Dan clutched him back, burying his nose into the crook of Arin’s neck, finding he loved the smell, deodorant losing its battle with the undertone of sweat. “Okay,” was all he had it in him to say. It was all Arin needed to hear.

[snow-lavender]

And That’s the Tea

After Jackie’s first interview, confusion spreads through social media. But hey, at least it’s funny?

AO3 link here

Thanks for reading!

Out of the Comic Pages

In recent years, the popularity of superhero stories has skyrocketed. This has led to some individuals emulating the behaviours in these stories. These “Real-Life Superheroes” have started taking justice into their own hands, to varying effect. The Telegraph’s Brittany Pearson sat down with one of these vigilantes, known simply as the “The Brighton Vigilante”, or the BV.

Pearson: So first of all, I want to thank you to agreeing to this call. I think you’ll have an interesting perspective people will want to hear.

BV: Yeah, no problem. You seemed pretty chill about all this, and I figured if people know I’m not, like, an insane person, they’d feel a little better about me being around.

[Laughter]

P: To start off, would you like to introduce yourself?

BV: I guess? Right now I just go by BV. One of these days I’ll think of a better name. Um, I work…is that the right term? It’s not like I get paid for this.

P: However you want to define it.

BV: Right. So I…operate out of Brighton, England. I just kinda hang around the streets and help people if they look like they need it. Muggings, assault, you know, anything like that.

P: And you’ve been doing this for how long now?

BV: About two years.

P: What inspired you to begin this sort of work?

BV: I’ve always had a problem with assholes picking on vulnerable people. I got a lot of shit in Secondary School, and so did my friends, so I learned martial arts to defend myself. Nearly got expelled more than once.[Laughter] Yeah, that’s not gonna help my case. But uh, anyhow, when I moved to the city, I saw some of the uglier stuff here. I figure the police aren’t gonna be able to get to everyone, so I decided to pick up some of the slack.

P: Were there any people in your life who specifically inspired you?

BV: Yeah, uh…my cousin. He, um, he saw that I was getting into fights a lot. So he tried to get me to use that for good. It really meant a lot, since my other family was just trying to get me to stop instead of help me focus.

P: And does he know what you’re doing now? Is he proud of you?

[Pause]

BV: He’s not really…available right now. But I think he would be proud. If he was.

P: Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.

BV: It’s fine.

[Pause]

P: Is it alright if we move on?

BV: Sure, yeah.

P: What fighting styles do you rely on, and what sort of training do you have?

BV: Um, I, [sniff], sorry, I mostly use karate and boxing, and some parkour for getting around. And I do have first aid training, if that’s what you mean?

P: Your voice has deepened significantly since you first entered the public eye. Was there another Brighton Vigilante whom you took over for?

BV: [Laugh] No, no, it’s just the tea.

P:Your costumes, are they handmade, or outsourced, or taken from military supply stores?

BV: I just…..

Thank you for reading! For the full article, please subscribe to The Telegraph, or make a donation here.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Jackie walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Chase perked up as he walked in, leaving the toastre to ruffle his hair. “Hey, I’m proud of you! The article turned out great!”

Jackie pushed off his hand. “That came out today?”

Yes, this morning, Jameson signed from the kitchen table. I’m just reading it now. You did very well for your first interview!

“Thanks, guys.” Jackie said, grabbing a cup of coffee. Chase patted him on the back. “Got anything you need to do today? We should celebrate.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m buying ice cream later.”

“Well, I mean, I’m not gonna turn that down, even if I don’t need it.”

Everyone gradually settled. Chase fried up some bacon and eggs as Henrik and Marvin slunk their way in. Breakfast passed without much fuss, aside from everyone drilling it into his head how proud of Jackie they were. Jameson cleared the table as Chase booted up his laptop.

“Yes, I do remember that in my ethics classes. We touched on it very briefly, though. I am not sure how much help I will be,” Henrik was saying.

“Any help is something. This course is kicking my ass-” Jackie was interrupted by Chase  breaking down laughing.

“Everything okay over there?” Marvin asked, eyebrow cocked.

Chase waved a hand as he gasped for air. “Just, just check twitter. Holy shit, I can’t believe how stupid some people are.”

“…Alright?” Jackie pulled out his phone. As soon as he logged onto twitter, he was bombarded by headlines.

What is “Tea”? What exactly was the Brighton Vigilante referring to?

“TEE”: A new street drug? Journalists are investigating a new drug with adverse effects on the voice box.

Is afternoon tea alienating teens?

How golf may be shaping childrens’ senses of justice.

“What. The Fuck” Jackie said. He clicked on one article at random.

THE SUN: Is Internet Drama pushing our children over the edge? Could new sources of entertainment be a threat to your child? Perhaps. Some are now positing that scandals, colloquially referred to as “Tea”, could be warping developing views on the world. The frequency of this drama makes children believe the world is in dire straits, raising mental illness, and, in one case, making them resort to such extremes as vigilantism.

[Continue]

Comments- 1084

-This is the funniest article I’ve read all year.

-Your heard it here first guys, James Charles caused my depression

-Oh yeah, it’s totally the youtubers. Couldn’t be the planet rapidly deteriorating, or corporations exploiting their workers, or the US have LITERAL CONCENTRATION CAMPS. That would be ridiculous.

“What, on God’s green earth, are they smoking at the Sun?” Marvin laughed, reading over Jackie’s shoulder. “Holy hell.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna..” Jackie pointed upstairs. “Make a call.”

Out of the Comic Pages

(Edit) After publication, BV contacted our offices with the following message:

“Hi, so people seem to be a bit confused about something I said. I meant “T” as in testosterone. I’m a trans dude, so I’m taking hormones. That’s why my voice deepened. And please don’t use this as an excuse to demonize trans people. Please.”

June 18th, 2019: yourfaveisatransicon.tumblr.com - The Brighton Vigilante from Real Life is a trans icon! (I swear I’m not making this shit up.)

[alfafilly]

Bird Boy Birb Fun

Stealin’ this questionnaire from @designraccoon and @extraneousdominomask​ but only to write it for Arpeggio because he’s the only one that matters TRUE FACT. Also @arpeggio-the-parrot is doing it too go look!!

Why I like them: I honestly am not sure. I currently adore him because I adored him as a kid and the nostalgia hit me hard. That sorta thing where you had a crush and you can’t deny the crush and the crush returns full force. But what I THINK I’m into about him, is the fact that he has potential as a villain. He’s physically non-threatening, but yet he is threatening. He caused all of the headache and horrible things in Sly 2. He turned his back on his entire gang because he was selfish. He probably had that plan for like... at least 2 years since Clockwerk originally died. He thought on that plan, dudes. He was a genius and he had SOME GAD-DAYUM BIRD BALLS to manipulate everyone and was so confident in himself that it was all gonna work. But he was also “human” in that he had flaws. He trusted Neyla and it backfired. And he was SHOCKED when it backfired. He was an overly confident ass up until he died, even if the last moment you could hear him realize he fukked up. All of this is evident in such a TINY ITTY BIT that we saw of him. That’s just. Kinda awesome. And it makes me love him as a character.

Also he’s got a nice suit and I have a suit kink STFU.

Why I don’t: Um. He’s an asshole. Like, his assholery is a great character point for him conceptually but if you wanted to be his friend uhhh you wouldn’t because he’s a pretentious prick.

Favorite episode: Jean Bison’s first level where we get to hear him on the phone in the cabin! That part is honestly the best scene to show his personality, and he’s not even physically present!

Favorite line: “Bison, you covetous troglodyte!”

Favorite outfit: The one I made for him which is just his outfit but it makes sense. Sorry not sorry.

OTP: Arpeggio x da Vinci. Ok, but for real I think Arpeggio is demi or ace so probably no one. But I did draw Arpeggio x Carmelita last week so that’s cool and completely backed up by absolutely nothing.

Brotp: Arpeggio and Jean Bison for realz. Except I know in my heart Arpeggio hates him. And. Well, Bison hates him too, we know this from one of his audio clips in the safehouse where he straight up says he would burn his lil bird body alive if he wasn’t so smart. Just. Imagine this fake friendship where they pretend to be bros but the entire time they go “oh god I hate you so much”. It’s great and relatable cause we all have one of those and if you don’t you’re lying.

Head Canon: Penelope was Arpeggio’s first apprentice but he dumped her in place of Neyla when he found her more “useful”. Penelope is honestly a perfect protege for him: they both love aviation, they both love inventing, they both love machines. They just have their own unique flairs to their crafts. But I think Arpeggio ran into Neyla and while she is not as good with machines or... anything, really, that would make her worthy of being his apprentice, Neyla probably put on an act and buttered him up and Arpeggio believed he could control her and make her do his every bidding. Penelope probably wouldn’t be able to do what Arpeggio wanted, not physically (running around on rooftops and being a snakey cop n all), she’s not intimidating (Neyla got a whip that’s scary and hot), and just generally Penelope was probably not as experienced with lying and manipulating as Neyla was at the time.

Second headcanon: Penelope helped Arpeggio design his blimp maybe really early on concept-wise and she stole his designs and sold them to Le Paradox because that skunky boy can’t be original and that blimp is totally an Arpeggio thing (she probably assumed he dead so whatever no backlash) am I wrong?!

Unpopular opinion: Arpeggio is actually ugly as shit in the game. Like. They did not know how to draw birds well. He’s got high AF red eyes. Why. The monocle is. WTF is that monocle that is a foggy piece of glass glued on his face, that’s stupid. He is not a bird he is an ugly as shit potato. Sorry bird boy I love you but you’re not gonna win the Neopets beauty pageant.

A wish: That we had gotten to battle him. I think his level/the last level was structurally pretty weak and could have been improved. Maybe quarter of the arc is just the gang trying to figure out where they had Clockwerk, maybe they can gradually find out/discover the BIG EBIL SCHEME on their own without a 10 minute dialogue dump, and then they try to stop the plan for a few missions, and THEN we can run into Arpeggio (maybe Neyla too idk) but you have to fight him in some sorta big machine. The bird boy can make a giant ass airship with hypno powers n shit, he probably was the one who fitted all the Klaww Gang’s Clockwerk parts, the man can easily build a freakin robot or something you can fight. Maybe he used Clockwerk’s design as inspiration in some of them idk. And only after you defeat him does NEYLA reveal herself to be a lil shit and go “lol I could help you bird boy but I’m not” so then Arpeggio dies not only beaten and weak by Cooper n Co but also his apprentice pulled the rug out from under him at his lowest point. Double heartbreak double dead birdboy. BAM hire me Sanzaru.

If Bowser Jr. can do it, Arpeggio can do it. Fight me, bro.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I have SUCH FEAR he will reappear in the TV show and somehow be uglier than in the game. How is that possible I don’t know. If they make him look like a Rio bird I would be happy. If they just take a parrot and give it disturbing human eyes I would... Maybe be okay with it. If they made him a manbird I would be turned on I mean happiest! If they make him a Little Person then I’ll be super worried because I talked about my feels on that before and why I think that is an offensive and not-a-good choice for his motives. But if they can write it non-offensively then I would totally be into it!

TBH I would love a Neyla/Arpeggio wacky Team Rocket-style duo in the show. Reoccurring lil shits being shits. But that’s me being stupid.

5 words to best describe them: Suave lil bird; but dumb.

My nickname for them: Pedgy or Bird Boy. Even though Bird Boy has horrible second connotations I’ll explain one day.