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Exploring the Diverse Landscape of BIM Software in Construction: A Comprehensive Guide

Introduction: In the ever-evolving field of construction, Building Information Modeling (BIM) has emerged as a transformative technology that revolutionizes the way buildings are designed, constructed, and managed. BIM software plays a pivotal role in enhancing collaboration, improving efficiency, and minimizing errors throughout the construction process. This article delves into the various…

[reasonsforhope]

"Clothing tags, travel cards, hotel room key cards, parcel labels … a whole host of components in supply chains of everything from cars to clothes. What do they have in common? RFID tags.  

Every RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tag contains a microchip and a tiny metal strip of an antenna. A cool 18bn of these are made – and disposed of – each year. And with demands for product traceability increasing, ironically in part because of concerns for the social and environmental health of the supply chain, that’s set to soar. 

And guess where most of these tags end up? Yup, landfill – adding to the burgeoning volumes of e-waste polluting our soils, rivers and skies. It’s a sorry tale, but it’s one in which two young graduates of Imperial College London and Royal College of Art are putting a great big green twist. Under the name of PulpaTronics, Chloe So and Barna Soma Biro reckon they’ve hit on a beguilingly simple sounding solution: make the tags out of paper. No plastic, no chips, no metal strips. Just paper, pure and … simple … ? Well, not quite, as we shall see. 

The apparent simplicity is achieved by some pretty cutting-edge technical innovation, aimed at stripping away both the metal antennae and the chips. If you can get rid of those, as Biro explains, you solve the e-waste problem at a stroke. But getting rid of things isn’t the typical approach to technical solutions, he adds. “I read a paper in Nature that set out how humans have a bias for solving problems through addition – by adding something new, rather than removing complexity, even if that’s the best approach.”   

And adding stuff to a world already stuffed, as it were, can create more problems than it solves. “So that became one of the guiding principles of PulpaTronics”, he says: stripping things down “to the bare minimum, where they are still functional, but have as low an environmental impact as possible”.  

...how did they achieve this magical simplification? The answer lies in lasers: these turn the paper into a conductive material, Biro explains, printing a pattern on the surface that can be ‘read’ by a scanner, rather like a QR code. It sounds like frontier technology, but it works, and PulpaTronics have patents pending to protect it. 

The resulting tag comes in two forms: in one, there is still a microchip, so that it can be read by existing scanners of the sort common within retailers, for example. The more advanced version does away with the chip altogether. This will need a different kind of scanner, currently in development, which PulpaTronics envisages issuing licences for others to manufacture. 

Crucially, the cost of both versions is significantly cheaper than existing RFID kit – making this a highly viable proposition. Then there are the carbon savings: up to 70% for the chipless version – so a no-brainer from a sustainability viewpoint too. All the same, industry interest was slow to start with but when PulpaTronics won a coveted Dezeen magazine award in late 2023, it snowballed, says So. Big brands such as UPS, DHL, Marks & Spencer and Decathlon came calling. “We were just bombarded.” Brands were fascinated by the innovation, she says, but even more by the price point, “because, like any business, they knew that green products can’t come with a premium”."

-via Positive.News, April 29, 2024

--

Note: I know it's still in the very early stages, but this is such a relief to see in the context of the environmental and human rights catastrophes associated with lithium mining and mining for rare earth metals, and the way that EVs and other green infrastructure are massively increasing the demand for those materials.

I'll take a future with paper-based, more humane alternatives for sure! Fingers crossed this keeps developing and develops well (and quickly).

[0mg-bird]

Come on Home - J Seresin x Wife!Reader

Summary: After a mission that he barely gets through, Jake reevaluates his decision of staying longer on his deployment and how much longer he can continue when he has his whole world at home.

Warnings: language- violence- mentions of war- Jake scared for his life basically- slight smut- mature- mentions of ovulation.

His head spun, his heart in his throat and when he landed - by some miracle not crashing - on the tarmac, he sat in his seat, eyes wide. He pulled his mask off, shaky hands as he tugs his helmet off too and opens his canopy. The other daggers land perfectly, on some sort of rush that this mission has gone well.

What do they consider well? The fact that they were far behind enemy lines, with advanced jets hot on them? Or was it the fact that they weren’t in the dogfight, that it was their Hangman who they tirelessly defended. They saved him, they have a reason to rejoice.

Right?

He’d been sent out with a crew of faces he didn’t really know, all except for one.

Rooster is out of the plane, watchful eyes scanning over the crew to make sure everyone landed fine. But he sees Jake hesitating on his exit, his head in his hands before he rips a small photo off his control dash. As he hops out, he blows past the guys who go to shake his shoulder in victory.

He tosses his helmet to a crew member, he’s quick to shed the equipment he wears, leaving him in just his flight suit. His steps are heavy and full of anger, everyone moves out of the way as he guides himself straight to his empty bunk room.

Something of anxiety scratches at him as he curses out loud. He sits on his perfectly made bed, fingers gripping his hair.

The moments replayed in his head. He’s never been one to scare easily, but this was no spook. It was fear, it was a nightmare, he was stuck with no visible solution. In that moment when his flares were gone and those enemy jets had him pinned, he was faced with the fact that this was the end, there was no escape. He looked at that photo stuck on his control dash, the one of you holding that beautiful baby girl, standing in the yard, wearing a yellow sundress. He shut his eyes prayed his girl would remember him in the end.

Then, by some miracle, he was out of that hot water. Now, here he was and he just wasn’t sure if he could go any longer.

He’s never been described as a soft man, his tough heart had only shed its callouses around you. But here he was, preventing himself from crying.

He reached for that satellite phone in his drawer and turned it on. Being in the middle of nowhere was a rather disadvantaged when trying to get ahold of you, all the way in Texas. So, he sat with a beat up phone, dialing your number.

It was just you and your mother in law, Jake’s mother, who were awake still. You and your daughter, Lainey, usually moved in with the in laws whenever Jake deployed. They helped you with her and it was an ease to your mind, knowing you didn’t have to sleep in an empty home.

Sat on the couch, watching late night television, your eyes started drifting closed before your phone rang. Leaning forward to grab it, Jake’s satellite phone number was on your screen. You instantly smiled.

“It’s Jake.” You tell DeAnn, and instantly the woman grins.

You answer, a cheery voice. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting a call.”

Instantly, just by his breathing, you knew something was wrong.

“Yeah I- well I just needed to hear that pretty voice of yours, darlin’.” He flirts despite his current state.

Immediately, you’re on your feet. “Jake, baby, what’s wrong?”

DeAnn grows a concerned look, but there’s nothing she can do about it.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to choke his emotions down. “I can’t do it anymore, honey, I just, I gotta come home.” His breath is heavy, making you walk away from his mother’s eye and dash into your bedroom, Jake’s old room. “Listen to me, just breathe. Are you hurt- are you in danger or-or- Jake, tell me what’s wrong.” You stress, making him lean forward, elbows on his knees, head hung.

“I’m not hurt, I’m not bleeding out. Something happened…I just finished a mission and I-I don’t know how I’m still alive. Baby I should’ve been a goner, I almost was.”

At his words, it’s your turn to panic. Tears brim in your eyes, the thought of losing him was something you always avoided, but it’s forcing itself into your mind and you’re staring it in the face. He continues to talk as your wobbly lip gets caught between your teeth.

“How many more tours am I supposed to do? How many more times do I have to leave you and my baby? These kids out here, they ain’t got no one, they don’t have a wife waiting at their Mama’s house for them. I do and I can’t live like a young kid anymore. Damn it, I need to come home to you.” He says, voice breaking.

Tears slip down your face, your wedding ring hand wipes them away. Your love was miles and miles away, suffering and you could not get to him.

“Your time’s almost up, Jake. Just a month left, baby.” You say softly.

“Fuck that.” He breathes. “I’m getting on a flight at the next port.”

You spin your diamond around your finger. “I thought you extended your deployment for a reason? To assist with trainings?”

“I don’t care, as soon as I hang up this phone, I’m going to talk to my commanding officer and he’ll change my orders. Baby I…I have to come home.”

Who were you to say anything different? You wanted your husband beside you, you wanted his warm hands on you, you wanted to wash his dirty jeans and watch him rock that two year old to sleep. You wanted him in the mornings and you wanted him driving that pick up truck in the driveway.

“Come on home.” You say, tone broken as it comes out.

You two talk for a minute longer, then when the call is silenced, you sit for a moment, calming yourself.

“What’s wrong?” DeAnn asks as you come back out to the living room.

Your eyes linger on the framed photo, sitting next the many others on the fireplace mantel, the one from Jake and yours wedding. You stand with your hand on his chest, looking up at him in a smile while a jet flies over the top of you two.

The Navy was something that was always in your relationship, you knew the consequences going into it. All the way in the beginning, four years ago, you knew what it would entail. And you hurt, you pined, you cried and wished things were different, when you went through months of pregnancy alone, when you were sick, when the world kicked you down and all you wanted was your husband who was off being Mr. America, but you never complained. Jake loved flying, this was his job for a reason and if it truly was his wish to take a break, you weren’t going to start complaining now.

Clearing your throat, you look at the woman. “Jake’s coming home.”

~~~~~

His duffle bag slung over his shoulder, Jake crosses the airport at a determined speed. His skin buzzes, he knows you’re going to be waiting for him. His flight was long, his body ached. He didn’t care, he’d crawl home to you if he had to.

As crowds of people disperse and he continues forward, he can see your shape and instantly is soothed. He moves a little quicker, and you look up from the ground and instantly meet his eye. Your hair curled, a long sun dress over the tops of your boots, you start to beam at the sight of him.

Ten months is too long.

His bag drops to the floor, and in an instant you close the space between the two of you. His arms are constricting around you as you bury your face in his neck. He feels the same, smells the same, the heat of him is still the same. Jake is wafted with the scent of your lavender honey shampoo and the perfume you’ve worn everyday since he’s known you.

He pulls back, before you get a word out, he’s gripping your cheeks with his hands and kissing you so heavy. You could cry, feeling the utter emotion of his longing for you. Your hands hold his arms, chasing his lips as he’s done swallowing your air. Foreheads pressed together, you breathe out.

“Welcome home.”

Jake kisses you once more, adoring those words from you.

As you step back, DeAnn is coming forward, your toddler in her arms.

“Lainey.” He calls for his girl, immediately she twists in her grandmother’s hold, recognizing his voice. “Daddy!” She cheers, practically flinging herself into his arms. Her little hands latch onto his uniform, he adjusts her little romper and smooths her dirty blonde curls before kissing her cheek. “Hi, sweetheart. Hi, honey.”

Her head rests on his shoulder as he picks up his bag and kisses his mom on the cheek.

~~~~

Finally settled back in your own home after dinner with Jake’s parents, Lainey falls asleep after five minutes of Jake rubbing her back. Her night light casts stars on the ceiling and he pulls the blanket over her. When he gets up, he’s careful not to make her stir. Leaning against the door frame, you stand in a robe, stretching your hand for him to follow you. The door to her bedroom is softly shut.

You lead him to the warm bath, and the two of you settle into the large tub.

Jake’s relaxed, watching you clean off the razor in hand before leaning forward again. Half his face covered in shaving cream, he listens when you talk about things he’s missed. Carefully, you run the razor up his neck, slowly to not nick him. The stubble of his jaw is no match for your determination.

“You leave a clean cut man and come back to me looking like you got lost in the woods for a while.” You scoff, tilting his face to the side.

Jake hums. “What? You don’t like the rugged look?”

You pull away. “Baby, I have never liked the rugged look.”

Despite your fake annoyance, there was a sort of peace Jake felt when you were near. It could make him forget about his troubles, well, not entirely.

As you wipe any remaining shaving cream away, his eyes shut at the feeling of your hands smoothing down his cheeks. You kiss his stubble-free skin. “Much better.” You comment.

“I never want to leave you again.” He confesses.

You retreat back to your side of the tub, a sly smile on your face. He observes you, taking in all the features he missed. He liked it when your hair was clipped up but some pieces still escaped and framed your face beautifully, he thought it was sweet how you wore a necklace with his and Lainey’s birth stones on it.

“I’m glad that you still adore being ‘round me.” You say, but his serious tone hints to what’s on his mind. You shimmy further under the water, your knees popping up to the surface. A shiver runs through you as his hands grip them gently. “Your contract is up in less than a year…and something tells me that you’re not going to extend it.” You put forward.

Jake sighs, moving to rest his arms on either side of the tub. You know this is a serious moment, but you can’t help but feel the way your skin buzzes as you look over his toned muscles.

“I’ve been doing this for ten years, and if I was still twenty two I’d be all for it…but I’m not twenty two and a lot is different now.” He sighs, leaning his head back to stretch his sore muscles. “I’m starting to think I’m too old for this now.”

You laugh. “You are not old.”

Jake sits back up, looking straight at you. “These are kids I’m flying with, twenty something year olds who don’t even have girlfriends, let alone wives. I’ll admit, sometimes it’s nice to pretend I’m twenty five again but…how much longer am I gonna be doing this?” He says.

You nod, listening to his ramble, watching him dissect his thoughts.

“Darlin’ I can’t fly like I’m not afraid of death anymore, not like the rest of them can.” He looks down for a second, eyes turning from green to blue. “And I’ve been in plenty of tough situations, that’s just the name of this war game, but the day I called you, baby, I’ve never been so scared.”

You can practically see right through him, his face is so somber and serious.

“Those rogue bandits were on me, they were going down and I was going with them. And these guys don’t know what to do because if they shoot and take ‘em out, I’m gone too.” He swallows hard, running his hands down his face, then back through his hair that’s growing out slightly. “And Rooster- how he did it I don’t know- he got me out, made sure you didn’t have to give me a closed casket funeral.”

You blink back tears, not letting them fall. You knew the risk going into this, but hearing him say how things could have been different, it makes your lungs constrict.

Suddenly, you’re being tugged towards him, his hands cradling your neck. He looks down at you. “I’ve got so much to lose, I can’t keep leaving home like this.”

You nod, hands clasping behind his head. “This has to be a decision you’re sure on, Jake.”

You feel his breath on your face. “I could have my orders changed, I could make sure that when my contract ends, it ends for good without any risk of extension. I could wake up beside you every mornin’ and fall asleep with you every night. Every damn birthday and Christmas and anniversary, I’d be here for all of it.”

Your fingers comb through his hair. “Don’t go talking about heaven to me if you can’t promise it’s exactly what you want.”

“It’s what I want, I promise.” He’s so quick to say it, it makes your heart beat fuller.

You lean to kiss him, and he feels the way you smile against his lips. He doesn’t need any further words from you, his hands are pulling you onto his lap by your hips.

Did it always feel this good? Having his mouth on your skin, having his hands slide up and down your back? The gold wedding band on his finger is cool against your warm skin.

He picked a good week to come home, there’s a fire burning inside you. As he deepens his kiss and moves his lips across your jaw, a shaky breath comes from you.

“Jake, hey- baby, hang on.” You mumble, hands slipping across his shoulders. Pulling away, he looks almost hurt at the loss of contact. Despite your need for some kind of friction between your legs, you want to make him aware that there might need to be another way to go about this.

“What? What’s wrong?” He questions, moving to press your chest up against his.

“Let’s not throw caution to the wind, I’m ovulating.” You say, thinking it’ll make him nod and pull back, that he’ll suggest you take it to the bedroom instead, where there’s forms of protection.

It’s a silly thought.

“Seresin baby number two, whoo! Okay, let’s do it.” He cheers, making you fall into a fit of laughter, head falling on his shoulder. “Jake.”

He shakes his head. “I think Lainey is due for a brother or sister, we need to get started on that whole four more kids thing.”

“Four more! You’re insane, I think that high altitude thing finally got to you. Let’s just start with one more.” You say, moving to nudge your nose along his neck.

“I can do one more.” He says in excitement, shifting his shoulders back and lightly cocking his head left to right. “Okay, I’m ready, my head’s in the game, we can do it.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

[jtmportland]

I picked up an Ilford Ilfocolor single-use film camera last summer while on a project in Oakland, California . It was the first film camera I've used in at least 15 years. Finally had the roll developed this week and here are some of the results. The flaws were accidental (but welcome). I remember having trouble advancing frames at the end of the roll, which undoubtedly created these cool double exposures and scratches. The scans are faithful to the actual prints... that greenish-yellow tint was likely due to heat damage, or perhaps the developer solution was old and dirty. Either way, after cleaning them up in Photoshop, I decided I still preferred the originals. So here they are. This was a fun diversion from the ease and predictability of digital cameras (which, in my old-ish age has gotten rather boring). I think I'll try it again soon.

[cyren-myadd]

Kiri does not have epilepsy

So I saw this POST on reddit asking why people dislike the scene where Ronal succeeds in waking up Kiri with Na'vi medicine where Max and Norm fail with their scientific equipment. It sparked a really interesting discussion about how traditional vs modern medicine is depicted in Avatar, but I also noticed some confusion and I wanted to clarify something:

Kiri does not have epilepsy. Joshua Izzo himself confirmed it during Omaticon. Norm and Max are explicitly stated to be wrong in their diagnosis.

I believe Norm and Max explained Kiri's condition to the best of their abilities, but their knowledge of Eywa, and the extent of Eywa's capabilities and effects on those who make tsaheylu with her, is limited. This is why Ronal was successful in waking Kiri up. Ronal may not have the advanced medical knowledge the science guys have, but she has a much better understanding of Eywa. And for people who argue it was just a coincidence that Kiri woke up after being treated by Ronal, remember, this is a movie, not real life. James Cameron and co wrote that scene and made the decision to have Kiri wake up only after Ronal treated her. If this was a real life situation, I'd say it was just coincidence that Kiri woke up after receiving traditional treatment, but this is a movie and there's no such thing as coincidences when there's a room full of writers pulling the strings. Whatever the reason, James Cameron chose to have Ronal's traditional treatment succeed where Norm and Max's scientific approach failed.

However, I want to add that I do not believe Cameron meant this scene to portray traditional medicine as superior to modern medicine, at least, not intentionally. I can't speak for all countries, but in the US I know measles and other dangerous diseases have resurfaced due to a rise in people rejecting modern medicine. Spreading the ideology that we don't need modern medicine is dangerous, and I completely understand the concern that one of the biggest movies in the world is trying to spread this message. As far as I am aware, James Cameron does not support anti-vax or other harmful ideologies like that, so I believe this message was accidental and misunderstood due to him trying to get a different point across.

My understanding is that Kiri's "coma" was caused by a metaphysical experience, not a medical emergency. Sure, there was a medical aspect to it since Max picked up epilepsy-like symptoms on her brain scan, but the episode occurred while she was having a metaphysical communion with her dead mom, not because of a medical condition. I believe the whole healing scene was just Cameron trying to emphasize that Kiri's condition was metaphysical, not medical. This is further backed up by Izzo explicitly confirming that Kiri does not have epilepsy, ruling out the medical diagnosis. I believe message they were trying to send was that a metaphysical problem needed a metaphysical solution, not that traditional treatments are better than modern medicine for every problem. Think of fantasy stories like Harry Potter where they use magical potions to heal magical injuries. When magic is used to heal in fiction, it's not meant to decry modern medicine, it's just using a fantasy element for a fantasy problem in a fantasy story. Same thing with Kiri. Na'vi problem = Na'vi solution. In fact, Cameron has gone out of his way to show that modern medicine is highly advanced in the Avatar universe since it's explicitly stated they have the technology to cure paralyzed people (for a price).

Unfortunately, I understand where the anti-modern medicine interpretation comes from and I believe Cameron could've written the scene differently to avoid that, but it's too late to change it now. I hope we will get a better explanation of Kiri's abilities and her condition in Avatar 3, one that balances a scientific understanding with Na'vi spirituality.

TLDR: In universe, it is factual that Ronal's treatment worked, Norm and Max were wrong, and Kiri does not have epilepsy. You can still dislike this scene and think James Cameron portrayed modern medicine irresponsibly, but that doesn't change the facts in universe.

[watcher7-9]

The Paradox of Love and Logic

Dr. Veritas Ratio X reader II Fluffy II Might be OOC

There’s been changes, if you had two brain cells that you could rub together you could tell Dr. Veritas Ratio had started to change. Well not completely, but for one person. All the students had noticed the subtle difference in his eyes when you walked by or said hi. It was odd, truly. Even Ratio himself had noticed. He could feel like heart drumming against his chest as he placed a hand onto his chest. Interesting. I’ve been experiencing an increase of heart rate and slightly higher dopamine levels when they are near. This could indicate—no it’s impossible, I must perform further observations to verify these results. Dr. Ratio failed again and again as he just couldn’t understand how to suppress them. After so many failures he felt like he was falling deeper and deeper as if these emotions were an endless void. So, he moved onto his next step.

Denial. Dismissing these feelings as a hindrance to his work; an obstruction if you must. This is…irreverent. There’s no logical reason to entertain such distractions. Focus, Ratio. Though as his mind battles with his heart, he admits defeat. Emotions are what make us human after all so decides to embrace these… inconveniences he decided. He had decided a plan, a well thought out one. He had taken up all the space on the large chalkboard he had in his home. Spending a few days planning out every single detail. Through his efforts and a lot of smeared out chalk marks he had contemplated the ultimate plan…

Operation: Heart’s Equation

1. Offering unusual acts of kindness

You had started to notice these small gestures when one day he approached you and handed you a granola bar. “Here. I have calculated your caloric intake for the day and you’re missing approximately 35.5 grams of protein. This snack should help balance that.” Before you could ask any questions he just placed it in your hand before walking away as if it was nothing. Little did you know his heart was racing as he walked off.

After settling down in the chair in his office he couldn’t help but overthink. Did he do it right? It was the perfect setting, no? Passing by as a subtle interaction in the hallways, he had an excuse to walk off afterward; given the excuse he could say he was busy, oh but now he rethinks it he shouldn’t have been so frank. Human emotions truly are complicated. Dr. Ratios mind races with excitement and self-doubt as he sighed.

2. Trying to impress you

You had tried to find a seat in the library, but it was filled. Everyone was trying to catch up on their assignments and today was your unlucky day. You scan around the room and notice Dr. Ratio sitting quietly at the corner table on his own. The table had a neat stack of papers as he typed on his laptop. As you approached him, you hesitated. He was known for his ruthless and upfront nature making students cry and run out of his classroom. You had witnessed it once yourself it was quite the experience to say the least. But you needed this time to study, and you had finally taken time out of your heck of a schedule to go to the library to catch up on work.

“Could I sit here? The other spots are taken…sorry,” you asked him hesitantly. Perking up from his screen he replied with little to no enthusiasm, “I suppose there’s space.” You breathed out a breath of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in. At least he didn’t just reject you. As you settled down and started to work you could almost feel his gaze shifting to you for a mere second in the corner of your eye a few times. “What are you working on?” Dr. Ratio suddenly suddenly asked. “Huh? I’m tasked on writing a paper around the topic of human brains. So, I picked advanced neurocybernetics but there’s not been many reliable sources,” you sigh as you explained the situation. “I have a few sources that I could introduce you to, they contain examples and proven solutions. Allow me to demonstrate my latest research on this topic for you. I’m certain this will benefit your paper.”

3. Try to...Flirt?

You two had ran into each other in a coffee shop when he first tried to flirt with you. It indeed had taken Ratio quite some time before finding the “perfect” opportunity. “You enjoy coffee as well? The flavors are like a chemical equation of sorts. It is quite the balance of acidity and sweetness if I must say. If I had to take a guess, the molecules interaction between the compounds create a 87% satisfaction rate. Hmm maybe even a little than that. ” Dr. Ratio commented as he held up his coffee cup before taking a sip. “Um that’s an…interesting way to think about it.”

After take a sip of from his cup he remarked with a small glint in his eyes, “I could suggest a few other brews like the one you have that I personally recommend. Perhands something with a higher concentration of…romance?” A slight smile tugged at his lips as he sees you laugh. “A scientist testing the water aren’t you?” You tease back with a smug smile. Dr. Ratio’s eyes widen slightly not expecting you to tease him. A red hue spreads over his cheeks as he clears his throat. “A-ah no! I mean um, not literally. But you just seem like the person to enjoy a coffee break from time to time.”

Oh you might just be the solution to his equation. A truly complicated problem. And oh he hopes just one day, he’ll be the solution to all your problems.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Mitsuhide Akechi Sequel

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Spoilers ahead. Not a full chapter translation.

With a pale face, Sasuke nodded.

Sasuke: "The fact that Mitsuhide's name is starting to disappear from the travel guide suggests that possibility."

Sasuke: "If Mitsuhide vanishes from the stage of history, the cause of divine punishment will be gone, and you'll surely return to normal."

The trembling of my body suddenly stopped.

My fingertips had gone so cold I could no longer feel anything.

Mai: "Thank you for answering honestly."

Sasuke: "Mai, what I just mentioned is just one solution. It's not the only definitive answer."

Mai: "Yeah, I know."

(But it is the most straightforward solution.)

Mai: "I'll try to forget about this and come up with other ways."

Sasuke: "Okay. I'll keep looking into it, too."

Sasuke: "So, Mai, please don't dwell on this alone."

Mai: "Thank you."

Unable to say yes, I simply expressed my gratitude.

Sasuke: "!?"

Sasuke: "Mai!?"

A flash of distress crossed Sasuke's face.

(I'm disappearing again!)

I quickly pulled out the necklace and rang the bell.

Sasuke: "Mai!"

Mai: "I'm fine, really!"

I shouted at the top of my lungs, wishing my voice would reach him.

Mai: "You take care too, alright? Thank you, Sasuke."

Perhaps he barely heard me, but Sasuke nodded in response.

Sasuke: "Don't forget, you have so many people on your side."

Mai: "Yeah!"

As I watched him walk away, I could no longer stand and collapsed to the floor.

Mai: "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'll definitely be okay."

I kept telling myself that over and over again, trying to muster the strength to get up.

(I'm scared, but even so, I'm glad I was able to face it.)

(Because now, I know how to avoid the worst outcome.)

This world no longer has a place for me.

The ground beneath me has disappeared, and I'm falling endlessly into darkness.

Fear engulfed me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. And yet, at the same time, a glimmer of hope emerged—a way to protect the person I love.

(It's strange.)

(Even though the thought of the future terrifies me to the point I can hardly breathe...)

At this moment, I feel the happiest I've ever been in my life.

(Loving someone is full of contradictions.)

Ranmaru: "I've brought Lady Mai."

Nobunaga: "Well done, Ranmaru."

Nobunaga: "You're there, aren't you, Mai?"

Mai: "Yes."

As I replied, the soft chime of a bell echoed, and Nobunaga nodded in acknowledgment.

The warlords, fully prepared for battle, wore determined expressions.

Scanning the hall, I quickly noticed the absence of someone I wanted to see.

(Mitsuhide isn't back yet.)

Although he'd been visiting whenever he found the time since the strange events began, he remained as elusive as ever. I haven't seen him since yesterday.

Hideyoshi: "Mai came all the way here, and yet, where's that guy?"

Mitsunari: "Lord Mitsuhide won't be participating in this campaign."

Mai: "I see."

(So, he's off somewhere, hatching another plan.)

I offered a quiet prayer in my heart.

(I hope Mitsuhide can accomplish whatever he's aiming for.)

(And also, happiness and peace.)

Nobunaga: "Keiji, what's the situation with Kicho and the others?"

Keiji: "They've left Sakai and are advancing toward Azuchi."

Keiji: "According to reports from the scouts, the enemy forces are twice our number."

(That big of a difference!?)

Hideyoshi: "We can't divert forces from suppressing the rebellion. We'll face them with a select elite group."

Masamune: "Perfect. My sword's itching for some action."

Masamune spoke with a fearless grin, but my heart pounded uncontrollably.

(I'll never get used to war.)

(I mean, how could I? So much blood will be spilled.)

At this very moment, thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands, must be on the verge of screaming, consumed by the fear of losing someone precious.

(I'm one of them.)

(This pain of loss transcends enemies and allies.)

Just imagining the heartache of losing someone made my chest feel like it was being crushed.

Ieyasu: "Mai, I bet you're making a sad face right now. I can tell, even though I can't see it."

Mai: "Ieyasu..."

Ieyasu: "You don't need to worry about unnecessary things."

Mitsunari: "Lady Mai, we'll return safely. Every single one of us."

Mitsunari: "Knowing that someone is waiting for us gives us strength."

Mitsunari's words were met with nods of agreement from everyone around us.

Mai: "Okay. I'll wait for you guys."

(I'm glad I decided not to run away.)

Even though I was almost like a ghost, there were still people who needed me.

(We're not needed because we're useful; we need each other simply because we want to be there for one another.)

Keiji: "Well then, let's go make some noise!"

Nobunaga: "Do not falter, any of you."

Everyone: "Yes!"

[Mai's Room, a few days later]

Mai: "Kicho and Motonari aim to undermine Lord Nobunaga's power and keep the rebellions going."

Ranmaru: "Judging by how easily the enemy army retreated, that's likely their intention."

(They aim to disrupt the peace of this world itself.)

Mai: "But why? There's no benefit in that for Kicho or Motonari."

Ranmaru: "I have no idea."

Ranmaru: "Times like this make me wish we could consult an expert in scheming."

Ranmaru muttered this with a look of pure frustration on his face.

(Does Mitsuhide know about Kicho and Motonari's movements?)

Ranmaru: "Lady Mai, if Lord Mitsuhide comes here, will you let him know?"

Ranmaru: "Tell him Lord Nobunaga and everyone are waiting for him. He needs to show up."

Mai: "Alright, I will."

After Ranmaru left, the only sound that remained was the howling wind outside.

(It feels like a storm is coming.)

The room started growing darker, so I lit a candle, but the draft caused the flame to flicker wildly.

My shadow, dancing along with the candlelight, appeared faint and thin.

(I don't have much time left.)

(Mitsuhide hasn't returned to Azuchi yet, so tonight's my chance.)

(I need to do whatever I can to avoid the worst outcome.)

I gathered only the bare essentials and wrapped them in a cloth bundle.

As I was preparing to leave—

???: "I'm coming in, Mai."

Mai: "!"

Masamune stepped into the room, his eye fixed intently on me.

Masamune: "What are you doing?"

(How could he show up at the exact moment I didn't want anyone to see me?)

I forced a smile, desperately trying to hide my panic, and turned to face him.

Mai: "Just tidying up. I had some free time, so I thought I'd organize a bit."

Masamune: "Liar."

Mai: "Huh?"

He strode toward me in large steps, leaning in to meet my eyes directly.

Masamune: "You're planning to disappear, aren't you?"

(How does he know?)

I clutched the small bundle I'd just packed tightly to my chest.

Masamune: "Thought so."

Before I could even think of an excuse, he spoke with absolute certainty.

Masamune: "I had a bad feeling, so I came to check on you. Looks like I was right."

Masamune: "Now that I've caught you, explain yourself."

Mai: "............"

Masamune: "Relax. I won't tell Mitsuhide."

He even guessed why I hesitated to speak.

Defeated, I gave in.

(There's no way I can deceive him.)

(I can't tell him everything, but if I don't speak honestly, he'll never forgive me.)

I lowered my gaze, searching for the right words.

Compared to Masamune's bold and vivid shadow, mine wavered like ink dissolving into water.

Mai: "Being near yet unable to connect is just too lonely."

Masamune: "............"

Mai: "If I know I'm no longer by everyone's side, maybe the pain will someday fade away."

Mai: "The sadness of not being able to touch someone, the pain of not being able to help, I thought that if I could just keep the good memories, that would be enough."

Masamune: "............"

Mai: "If I can't change the fate of disappearing, then at least I want to put an end to it myself."

Masamune: "So, you're going to leave here alone and say nothing?"

Mai: "Yeah."

(What scares me the most isn't the thought of becoming a ghost.)

(It's the thought that Mitsuhide might realize that if he disappears, my strange condition will be cured.)

I've come to believe that he would throw his life away without hesitation to save me, having loved me with such unrestrained devotion.

(If he disappears from this world, that would be the worst possible outcome for me.)

Mai: "Even if I leave here, I think I can somehow survive. I've been given enough strength to do that."

Mai: "Once I leave Azuchi and settle down, I'll send a letter."

It felt like a gaping hole had opened up in the center of my heart, and a dry wind was blowing right through it.

Masamune: "I understand your resolve."

Masamune: "That being said, I'll ask you again."

The intensity in Masamune's eye grew even stronger.

Masamune: "Is there no way I can steal you?"

(Masamune...)

(Was he serious about this?)

Mai: "Thank you, Masamune. I'm really grateful that you're trying to help, but there's nothing that can be done."

Mai: "I can't even control my own heart freely."

(Even if it's just for show, I can't be with anyone other than Mitsuhide.)

(I can't lie to my feelings, not even for a second.)

In this world, I fell deeply in love.

Love has become my backbone.

Masamune: "I see. In that case, don't back down, Mai."

Mai: "-----!"

Struck by his commanding voice, I quickly lifted my head.

Masamune: "Even if the bullets run out or the sword breaks, as long as you don't turn your back, there's still a chance of victory."

Masamune: "You stay where your heart belongs, even if it's by force."

(Where my heart belongs…)

The strength drained from my body and the small bundle I was holding dropped with a soft thud.

The gaze that pierced the depths of my soul pried open the feelings I'd buried deep inside.

(I...)

Mai: "The truth is..."

Masamune: "............"

Mai: "The truth is, I don't want to go anywhere!"

Masamune: "Mai..."

The scream I let out never pierced the air, and my wavering shadow finally disappeared.

Still, I couldn't keep it bottled up any longer.

Mai: "I want to be by Mitsuhide's side, not knowing anything about my fate. I want us to live together!"

(I won't give in to this fate. I won't lose.)

I let the tears flow freely.

I wasn't sad. I was just so angry.

Masamune: "Are you crying?"

Mai: "Yeah, sorry."

Even the sobs I couldn't control didn't reach him now.

Masamune: "Cry as much as you want."

Masamune: "Once you've cried it all out, you'll be able to fight again."

Masamune smiled and placed his hand gently on my head.

The motion of his palm as he stroked the air above me was incredibly kind.

(He's patting my head.)

Masamune: "If you try to leave again, this time, I'll take you from Mitsuhide by force."

Masamune: "And it won't just be me. Hideyoshi, Ieyasu, Mitsunari, Keiji, Ranmaru, and Lord Nobunaga—they'll all come for you."

Mai: "T-That's..."

Masamune: "If that bothers you, then stay here."

Masamune: "Understood?"

Mai: "Thank you."

(I hadn't considered the consequences.)

(If I leave Azuchi, there will be people I'll make sad.)

(I've been cherished far more than I realized.)

Fear and happiness crashed into me at the same time, leaving me frozen, unable to move.

No matter how much I pretended to be strong, my heart shattered, revealing my weakness.

(I guess it's okay to still be uncertain.)

I'm determined to avoid the worst possible outcome, and I won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to prevent it.

(Maybe I can stay here just a little longer.)

As I stood there, unable to move, Masamune quietly let me cry as much as I needed.

In the hallway, a shadow listened intently to the sound of muffled sobs.

Mitsuhide: "..........."

Without saying a word, Mitsuhide quietly left the spot without meeting Mai's eyes and departed Azuchi.

A few days later, thick clouds covered Azuchi at night.

As the rain gradually intensified, the brightly lit hall of Azuchi Castle was filled with the gathered Oda warlords.

Nobunaga: "You're back, Mitsuhide."

Mitsuhide: "Yes."

Surrounded by generals in full armor, Mitsuhide, wearing an immaculate kimono with no stains, stood out more than usual.

Mitsuhide: "I was a little late due to personal matters."

Hideyoshi: "You left the battle against Kicho and Motonari and still show up here as if nothing happened."

Mitsuhide: "It wasn't a problem without me, was it?"

Mitsuhide: "In fact, the Oda army won in less than a day."

Hideyoshi: "Don't start making excuses."

Hideyoshi stood up, veins bulging on his forehead, and angrily confronted Mitsuhide.

Hideyoshi: "What were you doing leaving Mai behind?"

Mitsuhide: "I said it was a personal matter."

Hideyoshi: "I'm asking what exactly that matter was."

Even as Hideyoshi grabbed him by the collar, Mitsuhide maintained a cold smile.

Nobunaga & Ranmaru: "............."

Masamune & Keiji: "............."

Ieyasu & Mitsunari: "............."

The gazes of everyone gathered pierced through Mitsuhide as the sound of rain from outside grew louder and more intense.

Hideyoshi: "Speak. What were you doing?"

A growl-like voice escaped Hideyoshi's throat.

No one in the room attempted to stop him.

Mitsuhide: "Let go of me. I won't be able to speak if you choke me."

Hideyoshi: "............"

Once Hideyoshi released his grip, Mitsuhide straightened his collar.

He then walked past Hideyoshi and approached Nobunaga, bowing deeply.

Mitsuhide: "Lord Nobunaga, I wish to resign from my position as a general of the Oda army."

Nobunaga: "..........."

Hideyoshi: "Ha?"

Masamune: "What kind of evil scheme is this now?"

Mitsuhide: "That's something I cannot say."

Hideyoshi: "You..."

Masamune: "Can't even tell us, huh?"

Ieyasu: "A rather honest answer for someone like you."

Mitsuhide: "I won't deny that."

Mitsuhide: "I can't say more, but I do thank you all. I appreciate everything you've done for me."

Hideyoshi: "Cut the jokes. It's not the time for that."

Keiji: "I don't think it's a joke. You should know better than anyone that he's not joking, Hideyoshi."

Mitsunari: "He's not someone who will listen to persuasion."

Mitsunari: "Even if you try to reason with him, he's already got his rebuttals lined up."

Mitsuhide: "You're sharp, Mitsunari. With you here, the Oda army's plans are in good hands."

Ieyasu: "And what about Mai? Does she agree with you?"

Mitsuhide: "I'll tell her myself and make her understand."

Ranmaru: "Do you really think she'll just accept that?!"

Ranmaru: "What happens to Mai if you leave?!"

Mitsuhide: "Mai and I are separate people."

Ranmaru: "-----!"

Mitsuhide: "Mai will follow her own path."

The warlords fell silent, and Mitsuhide quietly looked around at each of them before standing up.

Mitsuhide: "Well then, this is where we part ways."

Nobunaga: "Mitsuhide."

Mitsuhide: "Yes?"

Nobunaga: "Have I strayed from my path?"

Mitsuhide: "No, never."

Mitsuhide: "It's simply that our paths have diverged."

Without looking back, Mitsuhide opened the door and left the hall.

The incoming dark clouds unleashed a violent rainstorm upon the castle.

[Castle's Hallway]

Masamune: "Wait."

Mitsuhide: ".........."

At the voice calling after him, Mitsuhide paused.

The cold hallway was dark, and the night air seemed to cling to both of them.

Mitsuhide: "I thought our conversation was over?"

Masamune: "I still have something I want to ask."

The murderous intent in Masamune's voice made Mitsuhide turn around.

His gaze, sharp as a blade, met Mitsuhide's.

Masamune: "It's your choice to part ways with us for the sake of your ambition, for your own righteousness, but have you truly severed your ties with Mai as well?"

Mitsuhide: "That's exactly what has happened."

Mitsuhide: "If you intend to take her, now is the time."

Masamune: "........."

Masamune: "Eavesdropping again, I see. Always a fine hobby of yours."

Masamune: "Are you really serious about this?"

Mitsuhide: "Of course."

Masamune: "Then you're a fool."

Masamune: "If I could take her, I would have done it long ago."

Mitsuhide: "Don't get so down. It's so unlike you."

Masamune: "You, on the other hand, are acting so much like yourself that it's almost nauseating."

Mitsuhide: "Take it however you want."

Mitsuhide: "Tonight, our connection will be cut."

Masamune: "Is that so? If you're so sure about it, then..."

With a smooth, fluid motion, Masamune placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Masamune: "I'll cut off your limbs to make sure you don't leave."

Mitsuhide: "I'd appreciate it if you refrained from that."

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #10

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel tries to rob a superhero and you try to stop him.

Word count: 5,750

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

It’s another mundane morning in your office. You’re hiding away in your cubicle with your breakfast croissant and coffee, scrolling the news on your phone. 

Ever since the cosmic murder attempts have started, reading news hasn't been the same for you. It’s no longer a case of innocently keeping up to date with current events. Because now you can’t read the sensationalist headlines without a small pang of guilt that you may have been the unwilling root cause for so many of them. 

‘Apocalyptic blizzard in August.’ 

‘Stampede escape from Brooklyn zoo.’ 

‘Freak electric storm causes wide city blackout’. 

It’s all just too macabre for you this early, it’s not even 10am. Your eyes flicker down, only skimming to make sure that there has been no casualties involved with each incident before scrolling away again. Then you opt for the technology section instead. Hoping it is a little bit less catastrophic and kinder on your nerves. 

‘Tony Stark’s Arc Reactor Returns Home to Stark Tower.’

Your fingers pause at the headline. Stark always makes for a good read and good gossip, you think to yourself as you take another sip from your morning coffee and start to read:

‘Tony Stark, the notorious billionaire philanthropist and avid Star Wars memorabilia collector, has announced his decision to move his iconic arc reactor back to his home in New York City. The self-sustaining fusion power source kept Stark alive during the infamous hostage incident where he was captured and detained in Afghanistan by the Ten Rings terrorist organization’.

‘Self-sustaining fusion power source…’ you repeat the phrase in your head, parsing over the words. Why does that sound so familiar to you? 

You read it again, and this time instead of your own voice, the memory of Miguel’s sleep husked voice fills your ears: 

“Your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed.” 

Adrenaline buzzes bright in your brain, and you stand up from your desk so fast you nearly knock over your chair.

Finally! It’s the Eureka moment you have been waiting for all this time. 

You peer over the cubicle wall, scanning the room for Miguel. It doesn’t take you long at all to spot him; his oversized frame is hard to miss. Besides, even if you couldn’t see him, you’d be able to sense the anger vibrating off of him a mile away. 

In the corner at the far end of the open-plan office, Miguel is abusing the poor printer again. He’s cramming a fistful of papers into the feeding slot like it’s a duck he’s trying to force feed to make foie gras, and judging from the vein straining on his forehead, the man is about two seconds from lifting the 50 pound machine and launching it out through one of the building’s windows.

You shake your head at the scene. You don't understand how someone so smart, so intelligent, so apt with technology—he built an A.I. so advanced it would make the most high tech of Stark Industry's prototypes look like a kindergartener's chicken scrawl—can be so inept when it comes to dealing with a basic printer. 

“Miguel,” you whisper loudly, and despite the fact that he’s on the other side of a bustling office, he immediately turns to look at you. 

You beckon him over, practically bouncing with excitement as you wait for him to cross the room, and as soon as he’s within reach, you stand on the tip of your toes and cup a hand around his ear so you can covertly whisper the news of your discovery. 

“Stark has an arc reactor.”

You’re beaming with pride that you’ve found a solution to your dilemma, and look up at Miguel expectantly for him to celebrate with you and maybe even praise you. 

Instead, he looks down at you without reaction. “What’s Stark?” 

"Wait, are you serious?" 

You almost think he’s doing one of his sarcastic comedic bits with you, but the angle of his right eyebrow, raised in cluelessness tells you otherwise.

"How do you know so much about Dr. Strange, but not know who Tony Stark is? He’s like the main Avenger."

Miguel merely shrugs at you. "Avengers aren't really a thing where I'm from."

You shove your phone into his hand and watch as his eyes flicker over the screen, reading through the article in a matter of a few seconds. When he’s done, he places the phone back on your desk, then grabs your left hand, leaning down as he lifts it up towards him. For a second you think he’s about to kiss your hand.

"Lyla," Miguel announces, and the watch buzzes warmly against your wrist as Lyla's hologram reforms in the small space above.

"Give me the layout of the Stark Tower, identify vulnerabilities in the security system and outline the most optimal entrance points for a break-in."

Did he just say break-in?

"Wait, wait,” you interrupt quickly, trying to defuse the situation, before he gets too far ahead of himself. “Miguel, we are NOT breaking into the Stark Tower."

"How else would we do it?"

“We could just talk to him.  Lyla can hack into his schedule and book us a meeting with him, right?”

“And then what?”

“We’d ask him to help us?” you suggest, not understanding why he skipped straight over the most obvious answer and went right to breaking and entering. Though from the way Miguel is staring at you in blank confusion you may as well have spontaneously grown horns on your head. 

“...Nicely,” you add, in case that wasn’t already clear.

“Because that would require us to talk to him. He would just say no, Cielito. I’d prefer to break in. Cleaner that way. More efficient. Easier.”

You can’t believe this man just admitted to being so socially awkward he thinks committing a felony is easier than having to hold a conversation with a stranger. 

"Asking is pointless. No scientist is just going to hand over something like an arc reactor to a couple of strangers because they asked nicely. Besides, even if we arrange a meeting with him by hacking into his calendar, he’ll know something is up the moment he sees us. You’ll just wind up getting thrown out by security.”

Ok maybe he has a point there. 

"What if we tricked him? Made him think we have something he wants?”

"Like what?"

"Stark collects rare Star Wars collectibles. We can lie and say we're collectors with a rare piece to sell like the Kenner Star Wars Boba Fett prototype?"

His right brow raises at a skeptical angle and he’s staring at you like you’re speaking a foreign language. 

"Cielo, that's insane."

You bristle at that. 

"How is your idea any better?" you demand.

"A break-in wouldn't require much effort or rely on the goodwill or stupidity of someone else. It’s much easier–"

“You’re talking about breaking into the personal home of an Avenger!” you interrupt because you’re not listening to any more of his madness, “He’s arguably the smartest member of a team made up of the mightiest heroes on Earth, and you want to try to steal from him, Miguel!? That is not easier!”

The office has gone alarmingly quiet around you. You look around to see that your heated discussion is gaining unwarranted attention from the rest of the office. All of a sudden, the endless click and clack of the keyboards stop. 

You give your curious coworkers a strained smile, then lean up close to Miguel again, muttering under your breath. “We’ll discuss this when we get home.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything else, but you can feel his eyes pinned to your back as you walk to your chair and sit back down at your desk to finish your croissant in two mouthfuls, chugging down the remainder of your coffee. 

An hour before noon, Miguel comes to your cubicle. He sets down a lunchbox and from the logo on the plastic grocery bag you can tell that it’s from your favorite Bodega round the corner. 

“I have a quick errand to run for work at lunch. I’ll be back within the hour,” Miguel tells you, “Lyla will guard you, and if something happens she’ll alert me immediately. Don’t go anywhere.”

You look up from your screen to see him stand over your desk with that passive expression etched onto his stoic face, as if there is nothing out of the ordinary. 

In the last month, Miguel hasn’t let you out of his sight for longer than a handful of minutes (primarily to get more snacks when they run out).

Miguel thinks he’s being so slick. It’s insulting to your intelligence that he thinks you don’t know what he is up to: he’s obviously going to spend his lunch hour trying to rob Tony Stark. 

But that’s fine, you’re not going to openly question Miguel on his suspicious behavior. If he’s not here that means you are free to get up to whatever you want. 

… Including approaching a certain multibillionaire that has the one item in his possession that could save both your life and the universe as you know it from collapsing.  

It’s why you wave at him as he makes his way to the exit and pay close attention to him leaving through the front glass door and take the elevator down to the ground floor. Then for good measure you wait another five minutes to make sure that he will fully be out of hearing range with his super-senses before you raise your wrist to your face. 

“Lyla,” you whisper. 

“Hello, boss girl! Wasssuuuup,” she greets, elongating the word sassily for comedic effect, and you can’t help but smile. 

Lyla, as entertaining as she is, is an enigma to you. You don’t understand how Miguel with his short patience-span and entirely lacking sense of humor would have programmed this A.I. to have this kind of personality. Not to mention a deep archive of a millenial’s pop-culture media reference from this dimension.  

“What can I do you for?” Lyla asks, shooting you gun-fingers with a cheeky flare. 

You part your mouth, but hesitate to make the request. 

This is illegal isn’t it? Hacking into someone’s calendar to arrange a meeting with them under false pretenses. God, what if you get taken away in handcuffs within the first 30 seconds of entering the building, featured on Deuxmoi as a crazy stalker fan. 

So far the only “illegal” thing you’ve used Lyla for is to generate Netflix passwords and hack into HBO Max to watch Succession. This is a significant next level step. 

Maybe you should run downstairs and catch Miguel before he leaves the building? You could plead your case again. Try to reason with him that breaking and entering isn’t the way to go about it and the two of you should approach Tony Stark by having a mature and adult conversation. 

Yeah. Right. You snort even as you think it. Miguel is never going to be persuaded on this point and you are quickly running out of time. There’s only one thing to do: 

“Lyla, can you please arrange a lunchtime meeting for me with Tony Stark today.”

The lobby of Stark Tower is much like any other commercial buildings you’d find in the Financial District. Heck, it's not that much different from the one you navigate every morning at the Chrysler building. If anything, the only surprise is how ordinary the Stark Tower is.

When you enter the main lobby, you have to sign in with a stern but clearly bored security guard, then use the guest security pass you’re given in order to access the elevators.

Once you reach the 90th floor, there is a distinct lack of staff up there. Only a single, sweet-looking old man, with a well trimmed mustache above his upper lip. He's swathed in a soft-knitted cardigan and wearing gigantic vintage-styled sunglasses indoors that make him appear bug-eyed as he peers up at you and walks with you to another set of elevators using a retinal scan for security and sends you on your way. 

The door closes around you in the metal box, with a swift jump to the 91st floor.

When the door finally slides open it feels like you’ve entered another world. Minimalistic opulence is the keyword for it. There are windows along the entire space. A 360 view of the New York landscape and you almost feel like you are at an Aquarium with the amount of glass surrounding you. There’s pieces of half-built tech and prototypes everywhere. Imagine having so much money that you can allocate a whole floor of a manhattan skyscraper to essentially be your garage workshop. 

“So you’re my 1pm that magically appeared today,” a happy-go-lucky voice sings out. 

You jump in your skin, breaking your concentration from the view, as you turn around to see the infamous man of the hour standing behind you. 

“Gotta say, when I was envisioning the sort of person who might be selling me a Kenner Star Boba Fett figure, I did not imagine a gorgeous knock-out,” he says, with an outstretched hand as he greets you.  

Tony Stark is shorter in real life. Less formal than in the gettymarked photos you’ve seen of him at red carpet events and fancy galas, dressed up in the most tailored fit suits that money can possibly buy. He’s also a lot more charming than in photos. All big brown eyes, and pouty lips. He might be half the size of Miguel, but Tony Stark has more than enough charm and confidence to make up for it

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” 

He is quick witted banter and dazzling diamond smiles as he shows you the residential suite of the Stark Tower. His hand rests on the side of your waist as he guides you through the long hall, making strong eye contact all the while down the hall. 91 floors up and you cannot hear a hint of the chaotic traffic noise downstairs, it’s oddly quiet save for the faint scratching noises you hear from the ceiling. (Guess even Stark towers cannot escape the city’s rodent issues). 

“Anyone ever told you, your eyes really sparkle?” Stark says, as his hand slips from your shoulder to rest at the small of your back. “You’ve got this whole Disney princess thing going on. I dig it.” 

Wait, is he flirting with you?

Tony Stark, Chief Executive Officer of Stark Industries. One of the top 20 richest men in America (according to Forbes). A man who can afford to buy the whole of planet Mars is flirting with you. 

God, you are already seeing dollar signs. Lobster. Caviar. All the rare exotic and poisonous puffer fish sushi you've only dreamed of eating. You've always wanted to be a gold digger, you've just never been close enough to a gold mine.

Maybe this will be easier than you thought. If he likes you, maybe you can just flirt your way into getting the arc reactor. Ask him to lend it to you. 

The two of you make your way past the glass doors and into another imposing large room, bare and minimalistic. Oddly, it feels dimly lit, given the size of the windows in the room. 

It’s the size of the front lobby of your office building, and you realize halfway through that this room serves no other purpose except to store more of his junk. There are half built machines piled up in every corner. Boxes and boxes of tools haphazardly strewn across the room. It’s an outrageous waste of prime New York real estate that speaks to the man’s wealth. 

In the middle of the room, there’s a silver medal that glows an eerie blue in the middle, encased in a display case. With the way it sparkles, you could almost mistake it for a precious aquamarine gemstone the size of your fist. 

“Wow, is that the arc reactor?” you ask. 

Stark doesn’t answer. Suddenly his chattiness is nowhere to be found, and as you turn to look at him you notice he’s not paying any attention to you. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling behind you. 

You whip your head around and follow his gaze to see the familiar blue super-suit trailing behind you. The unmissable angry red spider embellished across his wide chest, as he hangs upside down like a cat burglar. 

Has he been trailing behind you since you got here? Was that what the noises were?  

Air whizzes through the space and the force of it reverberates across your cheek. A piece of red armor flies through the air and attaches itself to Stark’s arm. 

You’ve seen enough highlight reels of Iron Man on the news channel to know what it means. 

“Wait wait wait,” you shout out as you step in front of Stark in mid-transformation. 

You fling your hands up high in a gesture of a white flag to de-escalate the situation. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

Stark’s eyebrow quirks up, tipping his head sardonically. "So your costumed sidekick hasn't been stalking us this entire time? Breaking and entering, not just into my tower–which is private property, by the way–but also bypassing security to access my private office? Yeah, I'm sure your intentions are entirely on the level."

Despite the sarcastic hostility in his tone Stark hasn’t summoned the rest of the armor. The rest of his iron suit is suspended in the air on standby two feet away. He’s only got the arm piece strapped to his arm as insurance and is clearly willing to give you at least a few seconds of a benefit of a doubt. Long enough to hopefully explain yourself and not start a Superhero brawl.  

“He’s not dangerous,” you say, and the moment you say it, you want to kick yourself because of how suspicious that makes you sound. 

You turn your head around to Miguel who’s done an aerial somersault with the grace of a ballerina despite his build and soundlessly landed back onto his feet on the ground. 

“I can’t believe you went behind my back! We agreed to put a pin in this and wait to deal with Stark until we agreed on a plan. You said you weren’t going to break in!”

His masked eyes narrow into accusing slits, “Yeah? And what are you doing here then?” 

“Stopping you before you do something stupid!” you hiss. 

Before Miguel has a chance to retort, there is a loud clap from behind you that redirects both your attentions to Stark. 

“Jarvis, how did our lovely Disney princess make it onto my calendar and how did Hulk Spiderman over here manage to slip past every layer of your security net?”

The voice of a posh British man sounds out across the room but there’s no person attached to it. 

“I can find no record of these events in my logs. Performing internal diagnostics now, Sir.”

“Huh, interesting…” Tony hums to himself in consideration before he turns his attention back to you both. 

“I have to say I'm quite impressed, but I’m hoping for an explanation. Is this a Bonny and Clyde situation? You two lovebirds here to rob me?”

“No!” you both shout in unison. 

“Not lovebirds, got it.”

“That’s not–” Miguel starts, whipping down his head in your direction. 

At the sight of your face, he seems too flustered to continue his train of thought and he quickly looks away from you. “None of your business,” he snaps at Stark. 

You don’t know why, but that dismissive glance from him hurts. Like the very idea that you two would be in a romantic relationship is off-putting to him. It’s kind of insulting. You turn from him, trying to ignore the sharp stabbing ache somewhere in your chest that makes it hard to breathe. 

From across, Stark observes the two of you, whatever he sees makes him tip his head in curiosity. The intense pinch between his brow relaxes and the subtle shift in his expression is like witnessing the moment a shark senses blood in the water, then he grins and turns his attention towards you.

Stark grins, turning his attention towards you. "So you're single then?" 

You peer up at Miguel and hesitate because that’s a damned good question. You of this dimension is certainly single, but there’s another version of you (a dead one) that’s married to the man next to you. 

But that’s not you. 

You turn to Stark, "Yes," you answer.

Miguel whips his head to you, eyes wide. "No!" he bellows. 

"The lady says she is, big blue."

"And I say she's not!" Miguel growls, the last word ends on such loud volume it could break the sound barrier.

Miguel isn’t the best at reading cues. You’ve known Tony Stark for all of five minutes, and even you can tell that the man enjoys riling up people, Miguel is feeding right into that. 

Stark acts like Miguel is speaking at a decibel that he is unable to register. He saunters up to you, with the most carefree gait you’ve seen anyone carry around Miguel. 

"So are you free tonight?" Stark asks.

You spot Miguel’s bristling expression and hesitate for a second time. 

It’s mean, you shouldn’t rile Miguel up like this. His entire back is curved up like a hissing cat. The man looks like he’s about to blow a casket, acting like a jealous spouse. And somehow under Tony Stark’s attention you feel like you are the adulterous wife. 

Except once again, you’re not. Because you are not Miguel’s wife. 

… Why exactly are you pining after a man still grieving his dead ex-wife who happens to look like you? 

You're currently homeless. Your take-home salary as an insurance adjuster can’t afford you a new apartment in New York, not with the rising inflation and the current state of this economy. This is your highway express ticket to the charmed life of being a billionaire ex-wife. 

Bye bye to 9 to 5’s and having to manually enter data into thousands of excel sheets everyday. Jeff Bezos' former wife, Mackenzie Bezos was awarded 25% of their Amazon shares valued at over 38 billion dollars. Stark is twice as rich as that.

You slide closer to Stark. "Maybe? Where are you gonna take me? Somewhere fancy?"

"Yeah, no! Absolutely not!" Miguel interjects. 

He steps forward to drag you behind him, until his mountainous body blocks you from the man. 

“We need the arc reactor.” Miguel announces brusquely, with no fanfare and even less by way of explanation. “If you won’t give it to us, I’ll just have to take it.”

“What do you need it for?” Stark asks curiously. 

“That’s none of your business,” is the blunt reply. 

Stark tilts up his head, gaze pinned to Miguel’s mask. “You know, I’m not really minded to give away proprietary technology to a man wearing a wrestling mask in broad daylight.” 

There’s a stalemate between the two men as they stare each other down (or up in Stark’s case). The showdown is silent, you can practically feel the tumbleweeds rolling by, waiting to see who’s going to draw first. 

“He can take his mask off,” you interject. 

At your offer, Miguel’s eyes narrow, nose turning up in the air in a put off gesture, refusing to do as he’s told. 

“Mig,” you warn, and despite the clear scowl etched onto the features of his mask, this time, he complies. 

The blue and red fabric recedes into nothingness, until the fierce cut of his bare jawline is revealed. Eyes glowing an angry crimson. 

The scowl on Miguel's face is so ferocious, you can see his fangs in clear view. But instead of scary. Instead of intimidating. He looks... almost cute. All you see in front of you is a teething puppy with no real bite. He's harmless.

Stark makes a low whistling sound at the dramatic reveal of Miguel’s face. “Didn’t expect the fifth member of One Direction under there.” 

Miguel glares at the man, even though you know fully well that he doesn’t understand the pop-culture reference that’s being made. 

“So let’s take this from the top,” Stark says, and he starts to pace the length of the room until he reaches the arc reactor and gives the display case a light smack like he’s tapping the rear of a mare. 

“You need my arc reactor, but you won’t tell me why, and you’re not offering me anything in return, except for El Tigre over here not trying to kill me, is that about right?”

“What’s your price?” Miguel asks, voice in that low growling tone that always precedes a threat. 

“I’m a multi-billionaire, cash doesn’t really interest me, and I can’t exactly have this fall into the wrong hands.”

“We’re not bad people, and we’re not going to use it for anything nefarious. I know this sounds absolutely nuts, but we need your arc reactor to save the world,” you say. 

Stark chuckles at you, the way an adult would at a naive child. “That’s not really much to go on hon, you’re gonna have to give me more than that.” 

“Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme, he can vouch for us.”  

Stark considers you for a moment then tilts his head to take an appraising look of Miguel, eyes dragging from the sole of his suit-clad heels and up to his neck where the suit ends. 

“The unstable molecule fabric you have for the suit is interesting. I’ve been meaning to give my suit an upgrade, and having it disappear into thin air would be convenient. Wouldn’t have to constantly lug around 2,000 pounds of metal everywhere I go with me. Hand me a sample of the tech along with full intellectual property rights and we’ll talk.”

“No.” Miguel says. 

He straightens up his posture and crosses his arms over his chest with a haughty expression on his face. “My suit is technologically superior to all the technology you’ve got in this building combined. It’s a bum deal. Your arc reactor has palladium in it and would be poisonous for long term use. It’s practically defunct and I only need it for a one time use.”

God, this man really doesn’t know how to endear himself to anyone does he. 

“He doesn’t mean that,” you step in. 

“Well if it’s practically defunct, I wouldn’t want to pawn this junk off on you,” Stark responds, throwing up his hands in feigned defeat. “Besides, it has sentimental value to me. Not sure I’m willing to just give this away to some random guy who broke into my house.”

Miguel’s lip twitches in irritation until you see another flash of those fangs like they’re itching to sink into Stark’s throat. 

That only seems to entertain Stark further. “Look, you clearly need this reactor for something big, and for some reason you’re not able to build it yourself even with your advanced tech on display here. You’re obviously in a hurry, and in a desperate situation. Desperate enough to break in, and you know the saying: beggar’s can’t be choosers. I wouldn’t be much of a businessman if I didn’t take advantage of that.”

Miguel narrows his eyes, glancing around at the electronic equipment stored in the corner of the room. “I need you to throw in the laser scalpel along with the 3d printer and genetic sequencer,” he says, cocking his head in its direction. 

“Wow, toots, your boyfriend has real expensive taste,” Stark teases. 

Your cheek warms at the term boyfriend, but you don’t correct him. 

Neither does Miguel. Instead Miguel looks him squarely in the eyes and juts up his chin. “I want the Sonic disruptor too.”

“Fine,” Stark announces, holding up his hand in the gesture of a time-out to stop Miguel from listing out more expensive items. “You drive a hard bargain, Blue, but what the hell. It’s a deal. I’ll even give you a newer palladium-free model of the reactor so I can keep old sparky here for myself.” 

The sun is setting against the skyline of the city, washing it in strokes of warm amber-orange hues. Miguel is still grumbling next to you as the two of you stroll along the Brooklyn bridge. 

“Supergenius, Ha! Si los zombies comen cerebros, él sería invisible para ellos. What do you see in that guy anyway?! He’s not even good looking. He’s like what? 5 feet tall? He was wearing built in heels, you know! Es más corto que las mangas de un chaleco–”

"Can you pipe down?” you say, cutting off his tirade, “Just let it go, please. It's been hours! I didn’t see anything in him. I have no desire to be the next notch on Tony Stark's bedpost.” 

That finally seems to end his rant, or at the very least slow it down. Miguel shuts his mouth, staring out over the river. “Then why did you tell him you were free?”

“Because I wanted the arc reactor! I figured letting the guy flirt with me might help. Catching flies with honey and all that.”

He folds his arms over his chest, with a skeptical furrow in his brows. “You wanted him to take you somewhere fancy; that’s what you said,” he points out. 

Damn him and his super-genius memory. 

“Well, maybe I also wanted to eat at a Michelin star restaurant one time in my life. Manila Social Club is supposed to have a golden donut made with champagne jelly and actual gold on their dessert menu. 

“That doesn’t even sound tasty,” Miguel mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets. His mouth settles into an unhappy frown. 

“It would have been if I didn’t have to pay for it!”

“I could’ve gotten it for you,” he says, and it’s not until you take a better look at his face that you realize it’s not so much as a frown he’s sporting. It’s a pout.  

Oh, is he… ? He is, isn’t he!

“You have nothing to be jealous of, you know. I’m not interested in Tony Stark,” you reassure him. 

In front of you, the rigidness in his shoulder seems to melt at your words.

That surprises you. You’d have expected him to deny the accusation that he’s jealous. Adamantly object that he wasn’t, and why would he be, you’re nobody to him. Just a random stranger that happens to look like his wife that he cannot leave well enough alone. 

He doesn’t do that though. Instead, his only response is a quiet, “Okay.” 

His docileness takes you by surprise. 

Is he admitting that he was jealous? 

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't take even a morsel of enjoyment in the comical way that Miguel is getting himself riled up over you. To have him flustered and openly jealous of Tony Stark flirting with you. 

As if Miguel had anything to worry about. 

As if Tony Stark, a man who has ‘philandering philanthropist’ as a description for himself on his twitter bio, isn't known to be so indiscriminately flirtatious he’d eagerly court a voluptuously shaped tree. 

As if that man of 5 foot 6 (with platform shoes) would ever hope to occupy every one of your thoughts the way Miguel does.

Immature and childish and inane as your behavior back at Stark Tower was—and you feel mildly ashamed of it now—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it in the moment. Not because Tony Stark, multi-billionaire, GQ's Most Eligible Bachelor five years running, was flirting with you. 

No. Because for a moment you got to experience what it was like to have your rude protective Spiderman treat you as his girlfriend. Someone he was possessive of. Someone he treasures. Someone that is his. Instead of your current reality, where you know he belongs to someone else entirely.

“If anyone has anything to be jealous of, don’t you think it should be me?” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth before you can reign them back in. 

Miguel tilts his head, regarding you like a cute, confused pup, so you continue. 

"Because I could never compete with her, right?" 

"Her?" he asks, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Your version of me," you say, "your Nena." You try to smile, try to keep it light-hearted, like the funny joke you had meant it to be, but it hurts even just to hear yourself say it. Because you know it's not a joke. 

It's true. You’re in love with a man whose affections aren't yours to win.

Miguel stops in his tracks, and that makes you stop as well. 

"It's not a competition," he says seriously. "You're two different people. You can't compare like that.” 

You feel like you’re being scolded and probably rightly so. You’re being childish and unreasonably trying to compare yourself to his dead wife. But that doesn’t mean that it makes it hurt any less to hear you don’t compare at all. Your heart fissures and cracks, and  the first sting of tears starts to well up behind your eyes. 

"You're important to me too," he continues. 

The words stop your heart, your eyes dart up to his face. The look on his face is gentle and soft, and it soothes the pain in your chest away, a gentle warmth rising to take its place. 

“Oh,” you say. You can’t help but smile up at him, squinting against the bright sun behind his back. 

“You’re important to me too,” you tell him.  

His lips quirk up into a small but genuine smile at your response. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You nod, and then you have to turn away, feeling bashful under his attentive gaze. Embarrassed heat prickles your cheeks, and you need a second to catch your breath and let the evening breeze cool you down. 

There are cyclists and pedestrians going past you as the two of you continue to walk in silence. You sneak a look at him to see that, like you, he’s turned away. He’s gazing out over the bridge as he walks and against the amber sun, you see a faint flush riding high on his cheeks. 

Your fingers lightly brush against the side of his hand, and he turns back to you and smiles, sliding his pinkie to hook around yours. 

You walk all the way home this way, heart feeling full, and you think to yourself that maybe, this time, things really are going to be okay after all. 

~ Next issue

Author's note: So for fellow marvelheads checking, wouldn't Tony be dead after Endgame when Wong was made Supreme Sorcerer? This is another version of earth -- Thanos and the snap never happened. My baby Tony isn't dead how dare you!

The Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it’s left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

Dedication & Credits: To @guruan for her incredibly kind help and donating her time to check the Spanish used in this chapter.

And to the kind @forwantofwill and her generosity for doing this beautiful fanart of Miguel Folding Origami that has stolen my heart!!

And finally to @thirstworldproblemss I love you and hope you're eating all the yummy sukiyaki that you deserve. Thank you for coming with me on this wild ride.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 11

pt 10 here

Content: direct cont of last chap, reader wears heels, implied reader has boobies O-O, soooo much hand holding it should be considered lewd, 2 pics to help see what I picture (underlined text), date hehe, reader wouldn't mind if Choso kidnapped them 0-0, they play battle ship, jokingly implied Choso is an escort(?), reader is kinda mean, reassurance, idk just my usual bs??? just reader nd Choso being cute man what else can I say. Word Count: 11.9k (wtf, im sorry)

(a.n) this was so long, I know, pls excuse any mistakes- I underestimated how hard it was to edit something longer than 5k words. ALSO???? take this as a celebration of me hitting 1k followers!! yayyy

Taglist: @eristi @sunaumi @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @1arminsimp @hannas16 @chosowhore @tojicvmslut @ofalcaodacolinablue @thesharkcollector @mochipip @hotvillianapologist @ziklope @saeline @morinuu @b3llair3 @24hrnanami

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After you left his apartment, Choso’s mind blared with the possibility of you being kidnapped- only to find solace in the small red dot blinking on his phone. Cautious eyes watching as he expected it to move- but no. It stayed still at a restaurant right outside of campus. Choso wanted to desperately leave behind those incessant urges to follow you- to make sure you were safe. 

Knowing that his day of reckoning would come. Choso knew that if he kept following you- the day would come when you’d see him. And he wanted to trust you now that things were starting to advance. 

There was nothing he wanted more than to trust you, to trust that you could take care of yourself- 

But everytime he’d try to ignore the blaring ‘warning’ signs in his mind. He’d remember every time he watched you walk home without caution, every horror story he read of people getting kidnapped and trafficked- and on the occasions where Choso couldn't shake off the invading thoughts, your voice would haunt his mind.

Overwhelming his brain as he tried to focus on what you were saying- your whispering voice making his brain pound in his skull as he watched that blinking dot.

Choso had to call you- if he couldn't run out of his apartment and find you- the least he could do was call you. Feeling like one of your clingy ‘friends’ as the phone rang, his pointer finger picking at the side of his thumb as he closed his eyes. All but praying for you to answer, opening his eyes as he heard the receiver being picked up, 

“I was just thinking about you-” he spoke, hearing your angelic laugh ring through his ears. ‘I left like 20 minutes ago.’ you teased, “I know-” he mumbled “What're you doing?” he continued, not in the mood to dance around what he wanted to hear, ‘uh- I'm at..lunch with a friend.’ you hesitated. –

‘What're you doing, Choso?’ you asked, confused as to where this was going. Choso let out a half laugh from his chest. “M’sitting in the dark thinking about you.” he professed, pressing his hand to his forehead and hearing you laugh at the serious tone he took. ‘Sounds healthy.’ you joked back with a playful tone, closing his eyes and thinking. Your tone was kind- speaking sweetly as you normally did. But. You hesitated.

The same way you hesitate whenever you refer to him as your friend. 

“M’sorry. I just wanted to hear your voice.” he sniffled, “Tell your friend I say hi.” hearing your smile when you replied a quick ‘Okay.’ at his request. 

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The conversation of the date was a rough one. Sitting in his apartment as you played chess. The timing was horrible- sure. The econd week of February left an unavoidable holiday sitting in front of you. “We can wait...till after if you want.” he offered a solution as he moved a pawn. 

“It's not so much the day for me.” you admitted, scanning the wooden chest pieces on your side of the checkerboard. “If you want- we can wait till after.” rephrasing his words as you watched his eyebrows furrow, “S’the same for me.” mentally chanting ‘pleasepleasepleaseplease’ as you pondered. 

And with those words- the date was set for Valentines day. Which made Choso believe there really was a god from how well this turned out. And you're thinking of moving out from that house full of idiots- and into the small apartment complex as his neighbor.

For the first time in Choso’s life he felt like life dealt him a good hand.

When it came to actually thinking about what to do- he didn't want to ask you. Knowing you were indecisive on what you were eating for lunch that day- so he didn't want to plague you with planning a date he owed you. Checking his bank account and barely seeing enough for a stack of pancakes in the town diner. 

Choso contemplated it. He thought about it over and over again, weighing the pros and cons in his mind before going into his closet and reaching into a pair of boots that were 3 sizes too small for him. Finding the thinning wad of cash he was looking for. The so-called ‘rainy day fund’ thinned every time he ran out of money for the month.

But this was worth it, you, were worth it. So he pulled the rubber band from the roll of cash, slowly counting the bills in his hands to be sure he didn't miss count. 

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The next time you saw Choso you asked him what his plan was- “Just be ready by 7.” he smiled to himself, already picturing you on that day. 

Furrowing your eyebrows before speaking, “Well-” you scoffed “what are we doing?”

“It's a surprise.” he grinned, looking down at the stupid game you called ‘Candy Land’ 

You sighed dramatically, “Choso, I hate surprises.” as you stared at the little pieces of plastic on the colorful board. “Atleast tell me what to wear.” you insisted, seeing his lips flash a pearly smile to you. 

“Wear whatever you want- I’m sure you’ll look great.” he scoffed, holding the little piece of plastic between his fingers, making it hop as he counted the squares. 

“Well if you're taking me to a nice restaurant and I'm wearing a t-shirt nd jeans- not gonna be very fun. Or if you're taking me to a horse race-” Choso laughed at your assumptions, “And I open the door in a dress and heels? Then what?” you threw the possibilities at him as he smiled at your nervousness. 

“It's a first date- I wanna make a good impression.” You mused, earning a half laugh from his chest. “C’mon-” you batted your eyelashes at him, trying to convince him to tell you what he was planning.

Nodding his head at your coercion that was working better than you thought, “You're terrible.” he whispered, making your pouting grin turn into a toothy smile. “Wear something nice-” he avoided your eyes, moving the character on the squares again as you listened carefully, “Bring a coat- weather app says it's gonna be cold.” He instructed.

“Do I eat beforehand?” you grinned, seeing his jaw clench at your question, “Hmm- No.” you smiled at how a few pleads convinced him to tell you. 

“How nice should I dress then?” pressing the issue with a winning smile on your face as you moved your plastic character, pleased at how easily he was to convince. “Atleast tell me that.” Choso looked at you and pondered the question, before nodding his head ‘no’. Knowing he's already said too much. 

You pouted playfully at his denial, “Just a hint- just oneee.” seeing his eyes look over your face, “I’ll even settle for one word.” he thought of a word to use, staring at you as he skimmed through words in his mind. 

“Wear something- striking.” he squinted as he settled on the word.

With raised eyebrows you started, “Striking huh?” in a teasing tone the choice of word he used, “Must be some first date to wear something striking.” your borderline bullying caused Choso to regret his choice of telling you anything. 

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On the 13th of february, just one day before your date- Choso facetimed his baby brother Yuuji, knowing out of all 9, he was probably the best one to call about this delicate topic. 

“What about this?” he holding a black knit sweater to his chest while looking at the screen, Yuuji let out a snicker- ‘If you like it-’ his tone was snide- almost mockingly as Choso tossed the knit onto his bed, staring at the pile of clothing that he had gone through. 

Showing him a band t-shirt from one of his drawers and hearing Yuuji let out a small laugh before he tossed the t-shirt on his already messy bed. “You're no help.” 

‘M’not here to helppp-’ Yuuji droned on, “That's precisely why I called you, Yuuji.” Choso retorted in a stern tone, not enjoying the game his brother was trying to play, slipping on a black dress shirt and doing up the tiny buttons.

‘Didn't you wear that to your graduation?’ he heard from the phone with a half laugh forming in his brother's words. “Can you tell?” straightening his back and seeing the fabric flex against his chest and shoulders, ‘Looks a lil tight buddy.’ Yuuji held back a laugh, being able to see the buttons strain and form small openings down his chest.

With an exasperated sigh he looked back to the mess on his bed, “I don't know what to wear.”

‘The dark navy button down you wore to parent teacher conferences and black slacks.’ Yuuji spat quickly, ‘Hey when am I gonna meet this person?’ Smiling as he changed the topic, “When you stop being so nosy.” Choso muttered, looting through his closet and finding the button up Yuuji was talking about. 

Unbuttoning the taut buttons and slipping off the small shirt. Tossing it onto the pile of discarded options before slipping on the better fitting dress shirt, doing up the small buttons and looking in the mirror, ‘I'm not nosy-’ Yuuji laughed, ‘Excuse me for trying to find out who’s involved in my big brothers life-’ enunciating the words. Attempting to make Choso feel bad for scolding him. 

“If you ever come out here- I'll introduce them to you.” he looked at the top two buttons that were undone, trying to decide whether or not to do them.

‘I'm on the next flight out.’ Yuuji quipped, making Choso scoff.

 “No Yuuji. Go to school.” Choso demanded, knowing he was skipping more than a handful of classes. ‘One day I’ll fly out there and you won't be able to say no to me till I’m standin’ at your door.’ Yuuji threatened, Choso offered only a sarcastic ‘haha’ in response.

‘How you got a date before I got a girlfriend is still insane to me.’  he pressed, “Why’s that Yuuji?” rolling up the sleeves of the dress shirt as he looked in the mirror. 

Yuuji laughed- knowing just what to do to annoy his older brother, ‘Cause you're so… weird.’ Yuuji struggled to say the words through a bully-like smile, “For your information- brother of the year,” Choso snapped playfully, which surprised Yuuji since Choso was never the type to banter- not because he didn't want to. But his quips would always come out in stutters, never being able to come up with smart replies fast enough. 

Choso smiled as he recalled your slurred words,“They like that I'm ‘strange’.” Yuuji chirped from the phone, ‘They tell you that?’ with a sarcastic tone. 

Looking at Yuuji with a cocky smile, “They did.” earning for his baby brother to raise his eyebrows in feigned shock, ‘The world is so backwards.’ he scoffed before asking more questions about you. 

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Choso wanted to make tonight special, he wanted to make this the last first date you ever went on. 

So as he looked at himself in the mirror, putting on his many rings and muttering words of encouragement to himself, hands shaking as he rolled up the sleeves of his dark navy blue dress shirt. Trying not to nitpick any detail that he didn't like about the reflection staring back at him- whispering that even if he was ‘strange and off putting’ you still liked him. 

Side eyeing the clear bowl shaped vase that held three white lilies, Choso felt nerves eating away at him as his eyes flashed down to his phone that lit up with a message from you. 

‘lmk when ur outside :)’ your message read. If only you knew Choso’s stomach was in knots. A specific kind of anxiety he had never felt before, it almost felt like how your stomach churned while in line for a scary rollercoaster for the first time. 

He quickly typed, ‘im omw now’ with trembling thumbs.

So as he put on the torn up carhartt jacket he relied on whenever it was cold, he straightened his back as he held the clear vase in his hand- Choso hesitated to turn the doorknob of his apartment. Thinking on if this was a good idea- a million doubts racing in his mind. 

But he only needed one thought to pull him from his doubts. All he needed was to remember you to open the door. 

The walk across the lively campus full of people carrying bouquets of red roses and overcompensating stuffed animals made him think that maybe the three lilies were not enough- Till the realization that he was actually taking you out on Valentine's day hit, which only made him even more nervous, the pondering thoughts of ‘am I making a fool of myself?’ making him overheat in the heavy jacket. Choso must've taken it off and put it back on 2 or 3 times before he reached your neighborhood. 

Standing on your rundown porch, thinking about ringing the doorbell. Those doubts daring to creep back into his mind, but his hesitant finger pressed the button anyway. Holding the bowl in both hands as he heard muffled shouts through the heavy wood door. He watched the brass handle turn before the door cracked open- his eyes being granted the honor of seeing you. 

‘Breathtaking’ was the word his mind formulated once he felt air fill his lungs again. 

Choso swore that every single time he looked at you, it felt like the first time. But this time- this, took the cake. This would be the mental image he’d remember every time he thought of you. The nerves and unease he felt in his chest melted away when he saw the warmth of your smile.

His eyes blinked quickly- almost in disbelief as he looked at you, so love drunk it hurt his chest a little. 

And you, bent to the side and fiddling with the tiny buckle of your heel. To Choso it felt like you came straight out of his teenage dreams as you looked at him.

Smiling as you uttered the word that was stuck in his throat, with a hurried smile you spoke, “Heyy-” before placing your foot back onto the ground as you stepped back with a quiet gasp, looking at the bowl in his hands. “Come in!” you urged sweetly, seeing his eyes scan your frame, darting to your living room that was full of your gawking roommates and their friends. ‘An anti-valentines day movie night’ you called it.

“Thought I told you to tell me you were outside-” you grinned, standing at the entryway of the house. ‘God, you are haunting.’ You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to reply. Unknowing your roommates were ignoring the movie on the living room tv. Furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at the round vase in his hands.

“T-these are for you.” He muttered, his heart racing at an abominable speed by seeing you grin kindly before your smile fell.

It turned into a grimace, “I have something for you too-” looking back up at the stairs you practically fell down when the doorbell rang. Turning back around to face him. Taking the bowl from his extended hands with a prolonged touch, “They're lovely. Thank you.” you smiled, “Stay right here- I'll be right back.” You hushed, turning around and dashing up the stairs. 

Choso stood at the doorway, almost mournful knowing the sight of you that greeted him would only exist in his memory now. Fiddling with his rings as he felt the people's eyes burn through him. Unintelligible whispers from the prying gazes. Gulping as he heard your bedroom door slam shut, urging footsteps on the ground as you hurried down the stairs. Both hands held behind your back as you hid his present. 

A silly smile on your lips as you looked at him, the thin heel of your shoes clacking on the tile as you stood before him, reaching your arm around as you a box with a small bow on top. Raising his eyebrows and looking at the box holding a pair of white glass plates inside. “Plates?” he smiled defeated at the present as you tried to suppress a small laugh. 

Your shoulders moved in a silent laugh as you watched his eyes flash back up to you, “Yes. Plates.” seeing him exhale through his nose, amused at what a coincidence it was that you bought him them.

“Thank you.” He mumbled softly, already being able to picture using them.

Choso held the box in one hand, looking at you with adoring eyes, you cleared your throat, “Striking enough?” you sneered proudfully. He practically choked on air at your question. 

He took a second to look at you, trying to find the correct thing to say, “You look beautiful.” he breathed softly, words that came straight from his heart. Mentally he was shouting any word he thought of when he looked at you. Words that are not to be said on a ‘first date’, confessions of yearning love and descriptive words of how he felt about you. 

‘Captivating.’ Choso thought as he admired your features that were accentuated by the warm lighting, almost casting a glow on your skin.

You felt the warmth in your cheeks trail to the tip of your nose at the compliment. ‘Thank y-’ you mouthed silently, being interrupted by a loud over exaggerated cough coming from the living room. 

Squinting your eyes as you turned around to face the source, “When did you say you'd be home?” one of your roommates spouted from the couch.

“I didn't.” You spoke with a raised tone laced with irritation, scoffing before walking into the living room. Focused on your coat that was draped on the edge of the couch.

Their eyes looked up at you as though you owed them something, “Where's he taking you?” desperate to keep you home.

You raised your eyebrows before you spoke, “No idea.”, reaching your hands into the pockets of your coat to be sure you had what you needed. 

Picking it up from the couch before turning around and speed walking back to Choso, looking at him with an urgent look on your face. “Let's go.” you whispered as you reached for the doorknob, “It's not safe to go to an undisclosed location with a stranger-!” your roommate shouted as you stepped through the doorway. Sighing as you pulled the door behind you. 

“Sorry about that.” you breathed, inhaling the cold air as you scanned the cloudy overcast with squinted eyes and creased eyebrows.

Choso inhaled sharply before he spoke, “Was that-”

“Yes, that was my den mother.” with a scoff, Choso parted his lips in a silent wince as you slipped your coat onto your exposed shoulders. Reaching a hand down and raising your ankle halfway to tweak with the strap of your heel again.

“Lead the way.” you smiled as Choso took a step forward onto the rickety stairs. 

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“Can you tell me where you're taking me now?” You sounded almost defeated as you walked side by side on the pavement. Choso made sure that he was on the open side of the sidewalk, walking between you and the potential risk.

Quiet streets derived from people made the walk peaceful, the sunless sky causing everything to look pale blue- almost as though you stepped through a blue tinted filter.

The weather was fresh- cold enough for a coat but not freezing the way it was a few days ago. A small breeze would have made you regret your choice in what you wore- your calves and ankles exposed to the frigid air.

Looking over at him as he held the boxed plates, with a smug grin on his lips, “We have to go pick something up first.” you hummed at Choso’s denial as his rundown oxford-esque shoes stomped on the ground.

Seeing an opportunity to wear down that smugness, you looked at him with an unashamed smile. “You look beautiful too, Choso.” circling back to his compliment that was interrupted by your roommate. He looked over to you- not shocked but surprised at your choice of words, despite the gloomy weather- you looked warm in his eyes. As though the sun was shining and it was the middle of summer.

He sighed as he felt your shoulder brush against his, “I don't think I’ve ever been called that.” he admitted honestly with a flustered smile. 

You laughed, “I can call you something else-” with an enthusiastic grin, looking up into the sky as you thought of the words to use, “How about- scenic. Or uh, captivating-” watching the blush on his cheeks trail onto his exposed ear.

Choso’s teeth stuttered as he heard you- trying to silence the sudden compliment, “My name is fine.” He insisted with a nervous laugh, trying his best to ignore your gaze.

You raised your eyebrows, “Are you sure? I can keep going-”

“Ju-” he breathed, “Just Choso is fine.” he implored, his heart racing at an unimaginable speed.

You were pleased with his stutter, “Okay. ‘Just Choso’, where are you taking me?” grazing the back of your palm against his as you walked, his eyes on the ground watching the lines on the pavement come and go.

Choso sighed, “I already told you- We. Are going. To pick. Something up.” He paused between the words as though that was an answer, flinching when you bumped your knuckles into his as you strolled beside him.

“Don't take that tone with me, mister.” you teased playfully, holding your knuckles against his as you saw him perk a smile. 

“Sorry-” he grinned as he looked over at you sweetly, “We’re gonna go pick something up.” he corrected himself, smiling at the sugared words, not moving his hand from yours- if anything pressing it closer. 

With a sigh you took the initiative and interlocked your fingers with his, your cool hand icing his warm palm, “If you're gonna kidnap me- let me know. Promise I won't fight back or anything.” you joked, making Choso shiver at your accusation. 

With a grimace he hesitated the words he was about to say, “That is a terrible and equally horrifying thing to say,” he spoke your name in a reprimanding tone.

“I mean in the way that life sucks right now, and you're a pretty cool person. And you're nice, and tolerate me.” squinting your eyes at the sudden frost-like breeze puff against your bare shins.

Your circling hum on the side of his pointer finger made this conversation suddenly very difficult for him to focus on. “Just don't put me in a glass cage. That's all I ask.” You continued the unsettling topic as you squeezed his hand. 

Choso laughed at the reference, “You see,” being able to conjure the words in his mind. “I had reason to worry about you getting kidnapped.” he murmured, mentally damning you for putting that thought into his head again. 

“That's different though.” you hummed, tilting your head towards him. “Of course if it was a stranger I’d fight tooth and nail-” a playful grin on your lips, watching his eyebrows slowly pull upwards. “But, if it was you?” you continued, feeling his palm subtly start to clam against yours.  

Choso looked over at you- waiting for you to finish what you were saying. The troubled expression on his face made you smile at how easy it was to fluster him. 

Shaking away the words in your mind, the sky dimming as you clutched onto his hand, you let out a ‘tsk’ at the thought, “Now that would be something quite forward to say.” you grinned playfully.

‘Your smile hides your mischievousness a little too well- I think you're just being cruel at this point.’ he thought as he looked at your profile. A proud smile adorning your lips. 

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“A parking garage?” you asked, twitching your ankle as you watched Choso input a security code into the metal receiver.

Choso sucked his teeth with a smile, “Did you expect us to walk for the entire night?” looking down to your shoe that was clearly bothering you. 

“You have a car?” you asked as you watched the metal gate creak open. 

He winced, “Technically no-” hand in hand as he led you through the barrier of the two story garage. Walking up the sloped concrete as you looked at the dusty cars. 

“I didn't even know this place existed.” You muttered, eyeing the gray walls illuminated by old yellow lights. Swinging your connected hands softly as Choso laid eyes upon the black car cover he hoped was waiting for him. 

“Let's hope it still runs.” he joked as you let go of his hand. 

“Hold these for me won't you?” he whispered, handing you the cardboard box as you tapped your heeled foot on the ground, causing Choso to look down at your ankle once more.

Placing his hands on the front end of the cover, yanking it off as you laid eyes on the two seater maroon colored classic. Almost perfectly polished as you raised your eyebrows in shock, his hands balling up the black car cover and placing it on the hood haphazardly.

He inhaled almost painfully, “It was my father’s-” as he inserted the key into the driver's side and turned it, unlocking the doors before walking to the passenger side and opening the door with a hand held out to you.

Taking the boxed plates from your hands and placing them on the roof of the car, holding your hand as you eased into the vehicle.

Connected matte black seats meeting your eyes as you eased into the seat. Silent as he nervously tried explaining why he had the car, “H-he left it behind- and I didn’t wanna leave it to be sold.” He smiled, looking down at you as he held the frame of the door. 

“So you brought it with you?” You hummed, fiddling with your hands on your lap and looking at the interior.

“I stole it- yes.” he admitted without shame, leaning on the frame of the opened door.

Pulling off his jacket as your hands reached out to take it from him, a small ‘Thank you’ fell from his lips as you held it in your lap. His lips parted in a grin, looking at your expression as you pinched your eyebrows together. Reaching your hand down to the bothersome buckle that squeezed your ankle a little too tightly. 

Your fingers struggled to fix the issue as he watched you. Flashing your eyes up at him with an awkward giggle before you spoke, “When you rang the doorbell I accidentally pulled the-” You sighed, trying to pull the black strap from the bothersome buckle, “-the strap too tight.”

Choso smiled before mouthing an understanding ‘oh’ 

“May I?” he asked, frustration starting to seep from you and into him by just watching your aimless attempts. You eyed him, lowering himself to his knee, the other propped up as you turned your body to face him. 

Suddenly all too aware of the veins on the tops of his hands, the light arm hair on his outer forearms that were exposed from his rolled up sleeves. 

His calloused hand held open awaiting you to lift your dangling foot to his palm. Without a word, you lifted your ankle. Choso delicately placed his hand onto the back of your calf, your cold skin warming in his palm as he guided the back of the heel to rest atop his bent knee. Trailing his fingertips mindlessly on your skin as he gently unbuckled the silver rivet of the shoe. 

Feeling the instant relief as he slid the buckle into a neighboring notch. A warm blush forming on your cheeks as you watch his painted hands trail gentle touches on your skin.

“There?” he mumbled, looking up at you as his thumb settled on the protruding bone of your ankle. Only offering a blushed ‘Mhm’ from your dry throat as he laced the rest of the tiny strap beneath the metal. Your hand was clutched on the edge of the seat- if your grip tightened any more you’d scratch the pristine leather.

Choso gently placed his palm back onto your calf, easing your leg back down gently before he stood up again. “Now for the moment of truth.” he winced, taking a step back and leaving you with your feet on the ground.

You inhaled sharply as his hand rested on the door again, waiting for you to sit correctly. You turned your body back to face the windshield, he closed the door for you- reaching his hand on the roof of the car for the plates before walking to the drivers side.

With how easy it was to fluster him or make him nervous, you were unsure why out of the two of you- you were the one who was on the verge of hyperventilating from the innocent act of kindness. In your mind an obstacle presented itself; how you were expected to keep your composure for the rest of the evening. 

Your hand dared to tremble as you placed his heavy jacket on the center of the benched seat. Some kind of desperate attempt at a wall to keep you from acting on your self-indulgent thoughts. 

Hearing a small thud as he placed the plates on the roof again. The driver's door opened smoothly, Choso eased into the seat as he placed his hand on the wheel with the keys in hand, leaving his door open with one foot on the ground.

Choso cleared his throat as he turned the ignition, raising his eyebrows in hopes the car would turn on. A wave of relief washed over him when he heard the loud roar come from the muffler. Quiet music playing from the staticky radio breaking the silence.

He stepped out of the car once more, walking to the hood to grab the car cover he carelessly folded. Your eyes followed him as he slid the pair of plates from the roof and walked to the back of the car, your shoulders tense while trying to breathe. 

Flinching when you heard the trunk pound shut, clearing your throat when you saw him walk back to the opened door. 

He settled into the driver's seat once more, mindlessly picking up your attempt at a wall and placing his jacket onto the ledge of the rearview window, leaving nothing but air to keep you separate from him. 

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The drive was silent, the quiet radio music easing the tension in the air only you felt. Hands in your lap as you fiddled with your thumbs, Choso was unaware of your tense shoulders till he stopped at a red light. 

Looking over at you- your head locked forward and sitting very, very far away. The look on your face though, furrowed eyebrows and unblinking eyes, lips pressed tightly together as though you were in deep thought- that's what made him realize something was wrong. 

Replaying the last 10 minutes- not recalling a single snide comment or any attempts at flirting since he started driving.

He murmured your name- trying to pull you out of the thoughts that were whirling in your mind at that moment. Blinking your eyes and turning your head slightly, looking at Choso’s face that was illuminated by the red light. “Something wrong?”

You nodded your head ‘no’ intertwining your hands harshly together. Choso looked down to your latched hands, then back up to you with a perked brow- He didn't need to speak, you knew what he was asking with the look on his face. 

You inhaled, trying to find something clever to say- “M’trying to keep my hands to myself.” you murmured, looking out of the window, gathering he was driving into the neighboring city as your knees pointed to the door along with your head.

‘...hands to yourself..?’ Choso mentally repeated your words, not knowing why you had to try to, when you were never shy about it before.

Air caught in your throat at the realization you said that louder than you were expecting, “In a- a non creepy way.” you reiterated, scrunching your eyes together at the stutter in your words. 

Mentally you were cursing the stupid old traffic light that refused to turn green, even with the lack of cars around- it still beamed red. “Did I do something?” he asked, worried he offended you in some way. 

You sighed, “Yes-”, refusing to look at him, “Yes, you did something.” you muttered as you looked into the glass, staring at him through the reflection. 

“I’m sorry- I didn't mean to-” he started apologizing unknowing what he did- but it still felt like he had to. 

You let out a laugh that rang through his ears in the sound of a hymn, “You don't even know what you did.” corners of your lips twitching upwards, turning your knees over to him as he looked forward at the now green light- accelerating slowly as you scanned his side profile. 

“Must've been something worth an apology if you- of all people are keeping your hands to yourself.” he joked slyly. Only he meant to think those words- not actually say them to you.

You squinted your eyes at his banter, “Oh haha-” you grinned sarcastically, planting your hand onto the seat, “I'll make sure to keep ‘em to myself from now on if you feel that way.” You played, feeling your confidence soak back into your words. 

Choso turned his head slightly over to you, low eyes knowing you wouldn't be able to keep that declaration, dropping his hand from the bottom of the wheel as the other held onto the side of it, placing it on the black leather to tempt you. Suddenly the distance you set between you too was too evident- too far, his eyes were forward- watching the road. 

You gulped, scanning the top of his veiny hand, slowly you shifted closer to him.

Now close enough that he could sense you, “Choso?” you whispered, earning for a small hum to leave his throat, a childish smile on your lips “Can I hold your hand?” you spoke in a whisper- Choso furrowed his eyebrows at the question.

A gentle grin on his lips, “You don't need to ask me.” he whispered back, looking forward as he heard alarms and bells ring in his head from excitement. 

So as you scooched closer to Choso, he held his hand out for you. His heart couldn't help but beat at an alarming pace, so close your thigh was pressed against his. Your knees pointed in his direction as he felt his palm threaten to sweat. 

You slumped the tiniest bit into the matte seat, looking up at him as you gently took his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers with his as your other hand caged the back of his palm. 

Both of your hands overwhelmed his tender one, smiling as you leaned the side of your head onto his bicep. Resting your joined hands on the seam where his thigh ended and yours began.

“I've always liked your hands.” you mumbled, caressing your thumbs on his skin as he drove- he was grateful the sky was darkening. Cause he was so sure the blush he was sporting on his cheeks was starting to roam down his chest.

Choso’s breathing hitched- catching in his throat, “My h-hands?” feeling his heart pound in his chest. And for the foot that wasn't on the gas to start bouncing nervously. 

You giggled, “Yeah, your hands.” you hummed, unaware of the state you were pushing him to. “They're so pretty.” you complimented him with a tone only heard in his frantic dreams.

And as you scanned his jeweled hand engulfed by your own- the veins that trailed up his forearm beneath his pale skin proudly, you smiled as you pressed your thumb down onto a blood filled ridge on the top of his hand. Stopping the blood flow from the prominent vein. 

His mind was whirring in his skull- had you said anything else he would've had to pull over to catch his breath. 

But you didn't, no you only traced mindless doodles on his skin softly. ‘This has to be some kind of attempt on my life.’ his brain managed as the scent of your perfume infiltrated his nose.

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Though he was eternally grateful to be so- (some would say too close) to you, he felt his lungs able to breathe with a set pace once he found a parking spot in front of the building he was looking for. Streets full of couples as the moon started arising. Choso exhaled expectantly, switching the ignition off and feeling your grasp on his hand loosen.

“We’re here.” he practically choked out. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked onto the street, watching the people walking past the lit up glass doors. 

“What's here?” you grinned, straightening your back and looking at Choso, you were so very close to his face. The light on the roof of the car made it very obvious that he was blushing.

“A uh-” he inhaled the air between you, “A museum.” his shoulders were tense, looking from your eyes to the curve of your nose- darting back and forth from the cupid's bow of your lips back up to your eyes. You smiled hearing his hesitant tone- relishing the sight of pure nerves flooding in his pupils from how close you were. 

With an amused smile you snorted softly, “Ouu you want to kiss me sooo bad- I can see it-” you teased, earning for Choso to look away from you in embarrassment. 

And as you pulled your hands from his, he opened his door, mumbling small curses, racing to the passenger side- reminding himself that he needs to be polite and well-mannered.  

As he pulled your door open he held a hand out to you, giving you a brace to step out from the old car. 

The sight of your hand in his as you stepped from the car elegantly made one thing click in his mind. Choso felt in his heart that he would be more than happy- elated even, to do this with you every weekend till you were both old and wrinkly. 

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Hand in hand as you walked past the white walls. Stopping at any piece of art that caught your attention. 

Your eyebrows pulled tight as you looked at a piece painted black with glimmers of red. Choso’s eyes were on your profile as you examined the art, “What do you see?” he mumbled, looking back to the large canvas. Unable to understand how you could see meaning in a few colors. 

You sighed, tilting your head and staring at the streaks “It seems sad.” you whispered as he furrowed his eyebrows. “Like the person who painted this was distressed.” 

Choso didn't see what you saw- he saw a lazy attempt at modern art- “You can see it in the brush strokes-” you leaned over to him as you pointed to the seemingly violent brush strokes. He tried to see what you saw, “In the way they decided to use a little bit of red.” You continued, looking over to his lost expression.

When you walked into the room of sculptures you stared at an old wooden chair placed on a small platform with a harsh spotlight on it, “Performer.” you read the words on the silver plate at the bottom, “What do you see Choso?” you repeated his question as he stared at the chair.

He squinted his eyes before speaking, “I think it's a chair-”, feeling your elbow shove him gently. He sighed, “Well, the chair is old, and the spotlight is on it almost in a mocking way.” Choso expressed his depiction of the piece. “And the title signifies that the chair is a piece to be gawked at.” he muttered as you smiled at his intune thoughts.

He huffed, almost feeling like he said too much. “You?” he broke your silence as he looked back at you.

“I think it's just a chair.” you mocked with a perked smile. 

On the other end of the room there was a wired sculpture, if you looked in the right angle you'd be able to see the projected image within the silver wires.

You were tilting your head trying to make out the image, “I think it's a face?” you whispered as Choso furrowed his eyebrows, “Or two?” you squinted your eyes as you finally saw the image with a gratified exhale. 

Choso huffed- frustrated from how tedious this was. “How are you seeing anything?” he asked frustrated as his neck started to strain from how long he was tilting it. 

You dropped his hand- taking a step behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders, “Here.” you hummed, moving him to where you previously stood. “Lean down a little-” you whispered, you weren't able to see it- but his eyes were wide and his cheeks were tingling from your guidance. 

And as he lowered himself, you placed your hands onto the side of his head- angling it softly to this side as he allowed you to. You stood behind him- close enough for him to be able to feel your breath wisp on his nape. “Can you see it?” you whispered- Choso felt goosebumps form on his arms at your soft tone. 

You slid your hands from the side of his head- seeing him stay in place as he looked at the sculpture. “Can you?” you whispered as he raised himself back to stand up straight. 

He looked at you with a horrified look on his face, “Yeah I can.” he muttered before you took his hand in yours again. 

And when you found the room he specifically chose this museum for- he lit up with a smile.

“Art history-” you read the plaque on the wall.

Choso led you into the dimly lit room, “Finally some real art.” he muttered before turning the corner. Standing before the grand in size portraits- he looked at them in silence. Only you didn't find the same fascination in the old paintings as he did- you found the excitement that gleamed in his eyes more interesting than the dusty art works.

With every piece he knew, he'd tell you the tragedy behind them, star crossed lovers and small comments of the trageties- “Why are you looking at me like that?” he paused his previous sentence, looking at you worried that he was talking too much. 

You offered a timid smile, circling your thumb on his skin lovingly. Reaching a pinkie up to his temple and brushing away a loose strand from his temple, “I can't look at you now?” you murmured playfully, his eyes glimmered with shock at the sudden contact against his face. 

Choso diverted his eyes from your gaze, looking down to his shoes before mumbling, “You can't look at me like- that.” he felt his heart pound in his chest recalling the expression on your face with closed eyes. 

You giggled at his words, “Why not?” you pressed, being able to feel his hand tighten its grip on yours. 

He sighed, looking back up to your seemingly intoxicated face. Choso parted his lips, daring to say the first words that came to his mind. You raised your eyebrows and gripped his hand to urge him to give you a reason. “Cause I don't know what it means.” he retorted quietly.

You scoffed, an amused smile on your lips as you nodded your head. Not knowing how he could be so insightful in some ways and completely blind when it came to this. 

Your eyes scanned his features, “How many times do I have to tell you before you get it?” you quipped, seeing his eyes pool with confusion at your question. 

“I like you so much, Cho.” you whispered, seeing his eyebrows furrow harshly at the shortened version of his name. “I stare at you because I like you.” You assured, “I laugh at everything you say because I like you.”, watching his eyes blink down in timidness. In his mind, actually processing your words took a lot of effort. 

“Can I be honest?” you whispered, seeing his lips mouth an ‘okay.’ to your question. “I don’t think I've ever liked someone in the way I like you.” Choso exhaled at your words- mumbling a ‘stop’ as you smiled.

You exhaled, “I'm being serious. You're just-” you started, only for Choso to raise your hand and place it flat onto his chest. His eyes trembled as he looked at you with a stern but pained expression. You raised your eyebrows at how fast his heart pounded in his chest, explaining why he asked you to stop without words. 

Your lips curled into a sweet smile, pulling his hand that was wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand flat on his chest as you led his hand towards your exposed cleavage in attempts to show him how fast your own heart was beating.

Only for his eyes to widen and pull his hand from your grasp in shock- all but clutching his imaginary pearls as he hissed your name. Mortified to even think of touching you there. 

A small laugh left your throat at how he exclaimed your name. You were kind enough to not attempt to do that again- fearing his heart might go into cardiac arrest from being skin to skin. Instead you pulled your hand from his chest, guiding his opposite one onto your wrist and pressing his index and middle finger onto the pulse in your wrist. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he felt your racing pulse against his two fingers, “You make me just as nervous.” you whispered softly, smiling as he parted his lips. 

Choso softened his gaze, “You do a great job at hiding it.” he whispered back, recalling every moment his heart palpitated in his chest- wondering if all those times your heart was racing too. 

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“I think this is the first official date I've ever been on-”  you smiled, now standing outside. Thinking how stupid it was that the exit was on the other end of the building.

Choso furrowed his eyebrows, “First, first date you mean?” he clarified your statement assumingly.

You scoffed with a smile, “No, the only date I've ever been on.” seeing his expression fall in surprisement. 

Choso nodded his head as though that proclamation didn't make his heart burst in his chest, “Besides the times where we'd hang out after class- but I think this one is the first official one.” you grinned, pulling his hand with you as you turned to start walking back to the car. 

‘The times we’d hang out..?’ he thought, recalling the afternoons you'd spend with him. 

He inhaled quickly, “Those were dates?” he urged with a horrified look on his face, scanning at your profile. You looked at him as you stepped slowly.

Raising your eyebrows almost amused, “Well when two people like each other- and admit it to each other,” You taunted playfully, turning the corner of the sidewalk, “If both are consenting parties-” you continued your mocking tone as Choso listened to your words, to be sure he wouldn't miss hearing what you were saying.

“They start dating.” you teased, looking at him with a smile full of satisfaction.

In his mind, he replayed every moment from when he admitted he liked you till now- reevaluating them at the new information. With warm cheeks that were grazed by the cold air, “Are we..” he started, his palm becoming clammy against yours at the words he dared to spout. “Dating?” He asked, looking at you in a new light at that word.

No longer were you a person he liked- or a school friend. He was a person you were dating.

A soft chuckle left your throat at the dramatized words, “Don't tell me you just wanted to be a situationship?” you asked with feigned offense, furrowing your eyebrows as he listened to your words.

His face fell, trying to process the word you just said, “What is a situationship?” he asked almost scornfully at the unknown word as his grasp in your hand tightened. A sweet laugh left your throat at his question, not even being too sure of what that word meant yourself.

“Cho- are we dating or not?” you asked- turning the question around on him. His face went pink, both at the confrontation and the nickname- looking at you as though you hung the stars in the sky. You raised your eyebrows waiting for his reply. 

Choso tried to think- he tried using all 4 fried brain cells in his mind to formulate a proper sentence, but all his trembling lips could muster was one word;

“Yes.”

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The walk back to the car was silent- You were pleased with how much he blushed, how you practically forced him to confirm that your goal was achieved. 

Choso, on the other hand, had a mortified look on his face. The fear of taking the first step was long gone since the first 3 steps were already taken unbeknownst to him. In his mind he started seeing every possibility, every negative thing that could wait for him 10 miles down the road. Choso knew he should've been elated- but he couldn't help the heavy feeling in his chest as he thought of the future.

Staring at him lovingly, “Where to now?” you broke the silence as he opened the car door for you, holding your hand with trembling fingers as you eased into the vehicle.  

Choso hurried to the other side of the car, taking a deep breath before getting into it. Thinking how everything is different now- he drove this car as your friend and now he was driving it as a person you were dating.

You scooched back to the spot you previously sat in, “I hope you're hungry-” he started, his cheeks tingling as he felt your hand interlock with his again, “God– I am starving.” You interrupted, looking over to him with an enticing grin.

Choso smiled to himself, “I have a fridge full of groceries waiting for us.” he tried ignoring your tracing thumbs as he put the car in drive.

You reached a hand over and pushed a few stray strands of hair that blocked his profile from you. “You gonna cook for me?” You hummed sweetly, seeing the blush on his cheeks deepen. 

A small ‘Mhm’ left his lips as he pulled out of the street parking, you looked at him with adoring eyes, intoxicated on how close you were to him. “Those plates were definitely a good idea huh?” you asked smugly.

He sighed with a smile, “Yes. They were a phenomenal idea.” he fed into your boastful tone.

You looked at him, admiring that he cared enough to agree with you,“You’re so-” you hesitated as you tried to find the word, “So,” Choso was smiling as he awaited your words. You gritted your teeth- feeling cuteness aggression, “It's like I made you in a computer.” You smiled, hearing a hearty laugh from his chest.

The entire ride back to the campus- you didn't let go of his hand. The cringey love songs played on the radio quietly, with any song you recognized you’d tell him a memory from your upbringing. Grazing the tips of your fingers along his larger ones. 

Choso made sure to listen to every single word you'd speak into the air- “M’sorry I know I'm talking a lot-” you sighed, noticing he wasn’t replying to your words.

Hee scoffed, “Don't apologize- I like listening to you talk.” flashing his eyes over to you as you nodded your head in disbelief at how smoothe he could be at times.

⋆ ⁺  .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .  ₊˚ ⊹⋆ ⁺  .⋆

You didn't check your phone the entire time. So you were happily relishing in the peace you felt being in the presence of him. 

Walking past the entryway of his apartment, reaching into your coat pocket and taking it off as Choso reached for it in your hand, hanging it along with his on the coat rack. 

You checked the stupid piece of aluminum, widening your eyes at the countless messages from your overbearing roommate, and checking the time. 9:05 pm as you heard Choso set down the boxed plates onto the kitchen counter in front of you.

You sighed as you pulled out a barstool from the wall, furiously typing as Choso gently peeled off the tape from the box.

Looking across the kitchen counter at you as you settled on the barstool with furrowed eyebrows. Scanning your bugged expression, “Everything okay?” he pulled you from your thoughts. 

You sighed as you shut off the phone, placing it onto the counter faced down as you looked at him- completely defeated. “I’m moving out.” you claimed with a deadpan tone.

Choso looked at you from the cabinet, “What now?” he smiled as he reached for a pan. 

“I have like- 50 texts and 20 missed calls from my-” you were interrupted, Choso finished your sentence, ‘roommate’, watching as you huffed a sweet smile at how he knew what you were ranting about. “Regardless, I'm moving- even if I live on the street for a few days. I can't stay at that house anymore.” You sighed, watching Choso turn on two knobs on the stove. 

Looking at him with defeated eyes, “You won't live on the street.” he assured, turning around and opening the fridge. 

You rested your elbow on the counter, placing your chin in your hand as you watched him set various small containers of already prepared herbs onto the counter. “At the end of the day people really are disappointing aren't they?” you asked with a sigh, watching as he pulled out two pre-marinated chicken breasts from the fridge. 

Choso decided to ignore your previous statement- not wanting to sullen the mood even more, “Are they like this with your other roommates?” he asked with a smile, drizzling oil into the pan. Going to lower the heat on the small steel pot on the back burner before moving to stand in front of you. 

You watched as he slowly pulled his jewelry from his fingers, “No- if anything they enable their behavior.” eyeing the silver metal on the counter, your proclamation earning a sigh from Choso.

He noticed your eyes following his hands, furrowing his eyebrows at your gawking. “You need better roommates.” he declared, turning to the sink and washing his hands as you reached for the abandoned metal he left on the counter.  

As you rolled the warm metal in your hand you sighed, “I need to move out is what I need-” watching as he dried his hands. You smirked to yourself, “If I was your neighbor would you cook for me everyday?” You asked- half joking as he looked up from the searing pan.

Choso smiled at your question, picking up one of the raw chickens, “If you were my neighbor I’d cook for you anytime you asked.” he flashed his eyes up at you before placing the white meat into the pan, a loud sizzle coming from the action.

You rested your elbows onto the counter with a hearty giggle, “You say that now- But when m’knocking at your door 2-3 times a day- you can't complain.” you warned, watching as he let out a half laugh.

He picked up metal tongs from the utensil holder, “If you knock on my door 2-3 times a day- I won't have any reason to complain,” he spoke your name in reassurance as he flipped the grilling chicken on the other side. 

You laughed to yourself, not being able to sense any nervousness or hesitation in his words anymore, almost as though he gained more confidence in the past half hour. 

⋆ ⁺  .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .  ₊˚ ⊹⋆ ⁺  .⋆

As he plated the cooked chicken, you watched with a grumbling stomach. Almost drooling as he scooped a decent portion of mashed potatoes onto the brand new white plate, “God- that looks so good.” You bit your lip, reaching your hands to the plate. 

“Wait-” he held onto the edgeas he reached for a pre-cut lemon- squeezing it gently as the citrus glazed the browned chicken.

With a warm smile he spoke, “There- now you can eat it.” looking down to the beautifully plated meal, you sighed. Grabbing onto the edge of the plate and pulling it towards you.

You looked back to him, “I can wait for you-” you muttered, hoping he'd say no. 

He exhaled, smiling as he watched your eyes full of hunger flicker from him back down to your serving. “It's okay- you eat.” He assured, watching the smile return on your lips as you picked up the metal fork placed on the side of the plate. 

Choso watched you expectantly, the fork scraping against the plate as you sliced into the meat-piercing the chunk you cut off and lifting it to your lips, looking at him as you placed the fork into your mouth. The warmth from the grilled chicken landing on your tongue as you pulled the fork from your lips- leaving nothing on it with a sigh from your nose.

Chewing a few times as you closed your eyes, savoring the flavor between every bite. 

You swallowed, opening your eyes and nodding your head, “You're insane.” you mumbled, looking at his expression unchanged- not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

“Please finish cooking so I can eat more-” you joked, placing the fork onto your plate, he scoffed at the words that seemed like a compliment. 

And as you asked, he plated his own serving, not with a quarter as much love nor care- but it was infront him as he leaned down to take a bite, assuring you it was fine for you to continue eating. 

He hummed as he placed the fork down onto his plate, “I didn't even offer you anything to drink-” he scoffed to himself reaching to the cupboard above his head and pulling down two glass cups. 

You opened your mouth- hesitating to speak as you watched him turn to the fridge, “Not to sound alcohol-dependent or anything-” you grinned as he peeked back to you. “But do you…?” you insinuated with half lidded eyes. 

Choso sighed, “I don't. I have water and orange juice.” he mumbled, knowing exactly what you were trying to do- but he knew in his bones it wouldn't have been a good idea to let you drink right now. 

You gave a half laugh, “Water is fine.” you smiled as he reached into the fridge. Choosing to keep the bottle of ‘Titos’ he had a secret from you.

Pulling out a glass bottle from the fridge he had bought yesterday. Pouring water into your glass as you chewed on your affection infused meal. 

You placed down your fork, swallowing the previous bite before reaching for the cold glass. “You'd really be okay with me moving next door?” watching his eyes trail down to his plate.

Choso inhaled, “If it makes you happier- and not feel so stressed, I would let you move in here-” he spoke mindlessly, halting his chewing as he realized what he said. He inhaled sharply- feeling like your silence was deafening. He was about to apologize-

Only you laughed, “All my clothes would not fit in your closet.” you inhaled as you placed a bite of the mashed potatoes into your mouth. He huffed through his nose at your comment, pleased that you took it as a joke rather than how he truly meant it. 

⋆ ⁺  .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .  ₊˚ ⊹⋆ ⁺  .⋆

Somewhere between him finishing half of his meal and your 5th compliment on how fucking good the food tasted- a battle ship board was put up between you. 

Furrowed eyebrows staring back at you as he called out a number on the board. You hissed as you looked at your side of the game, “Nope.” you grinned as he gruffed at his attempts.

You were examining your grid, trying to use all the divination you could muster before he spoke up- “Did I tell you I'm thinking of getting a job?” he smiled, watching your furrowed eyebrows ease at the question. 

You gasped, “No! Don't do that-” holding a peg in your hand as his expression churned to confusion. “I won't be able to see you as often.” you pouted, looking down at your board. The words seemingly came unfiltered from your heart, and the sight of you pouting at the idea of not being able to see him as much anymore was more than enough to push that idiocy to the side.

And though you meant it as a half joke, it still pained you to know that now- of all times. When things were finally advancing, he'd pull away. 

“If you need money-” your lungs threatened to laugh at the words forming on your lips. “I'd be more than happy to pay for your time.” You spewed as though you were a sleazy 80 year old man speaking to a lady of the night. 

Choso furrowed his eyebrows and parted his lips, “Like an escort??” he huffed a laugh, you looked up from your board with an entertained smile. “No- no, not like an escort-” you defended. 

Calling out a number on the board as he nodded his head. “Like a paid…” you thought of the word, “Though I can't call you a friend anymore can I?” You spoke to yourself as he scanned his side of the plastic game, smiling at the thought that you'd no longer hesitate when referring to him. 

He inhaled as he took a bite from the coldening food, looking over to your plate and seeing you had finished. “I thought you were broke?” he spoke thoughtlessly, not being able to feel the hesitance before he spoke now. 

Your smile fell, he squinted his eyes as you shook off the sudden heavy feeling- “You're that expensive?” you chirped, looking at him bewildered at the thought he might've taken your words seriously. 

Choso scoffed, “No, you don't have to pay me to hang out with you.” he reiterated, watching as you fiddled with the peg in your hand. Recalling your query of if he'd mind if you were his neighbor. “But I remember you said you were broke..?” he looked at you with detective eyes as you called out a square on the grid. Sucking his teeth when you actually hit one of his boats. 

You hummed as you avoided eye contact, “I uhh-” you lowered your shoulders and raised a brow, “I figured it out.” flashing a warm smile at him. Only you meant it in an assuring way- Choso saw past it. He saw the way your lips fell after you said that, the way your eyes dimmed from recalling what you were hiding. 

You cleared your throat, “Meaning, I can afford your company now.” you circled back to the silly topic with a smile, Choso sneered through his nose at your insistence. He opened his mouth to speak- but you spoke before he could. 

“What kind of job?” you looked at him, changing the topic before he called out a number on the grid. 

He sucked his teeth, “I was thinking at the library- Quiet, don't have to do a whole lot.” He muttered as he studied the target grid. “Or I could apply to be a TA.”squinting before calling out a number. 

You tightened your lips, mouthing a curse as you marked a small boat with a red peg. “Why now of all times?” you asked as you waited for him to call out another number.

Choso parted his lips- almost saying the words that popped into his mind before closing his mouth. “No- say what you were thinking.” you caught onto the little habit he had developed since he was a child.

He smiled at your attentiveness, “I was thinking, now that I’m..” looking at you with a blushing smile, you raised your eyebrows, all but saying ‘go on.’

“Now that I am seeing someone.” he murmured, looking down at the board embarrassed and trying to ignore your gaze, you laughed at his avoidant eyes. 

You inhaled, nodding your head ‘no’ disapprovingly. “You don't need to get a job just because we're dating, Cho.” you assured, standing from the barstool and taking a step around the end of the kitchen counter, standing before his figure as he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, “Look at all the times we've hung out- not once did we need money or to go out to have fun.” placing a hand on his bicep and squeezing gently to affirm your words even more. 

Choso inhaled, “Would it be enough?” he muttered as he looked down to his shoes. You scoffed, trailing your hand down to his forearm, then to his hand. 

“I would be more than fulfilled if all we did was stay here and play board games day after day.” you whispered, holding your hand gently in his as he felt his throat close up-

He looked back to you with creased eyebrows, the tip of his nose daring to turn pink from an expression that looked close to tears. “You want a hug?” you asked sweetly, hearing a sniffle from his nose before pulling you to him.

Your hands wrapped around his waist as his arms rested atop your shoulders, holding you tightly as your bodies came together in a perfect mold. Choso held one hand on the back of your neck softly, the other pressed taut between your shoulder blades as you smiled into his chest, circling your hands soothingly on his spine, he sniffled before speaking.

“Be honest. Did you come over here to look at where my boats were?” you breathed out- defeated that he saw through your plot. Pulling away from him as his hands hesisted to let you go from the hug that felt like home. 

You looked at him with a cheeky smile, “I did.” you nodded, looking over to his side of the board and seeing you were close to winning by a few more pegs. You looked back to him, parting your lips expectantly as he took a step back.

‘Be well-mannered’ Choso thought as he watched you brush off the slight disappointment. 

He cleared his throat, “I think it's time to take you home.” he smiled, watching your eyes blink down to your shoes that had to be uncomfortable by now. 

⋆ ⁺  .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .  ₊˚ ⊹⋆ ⁺  .⋆

The trip to your house was short now that there was a car, and yet- you still held onto him as though it was the last time you'd have the chance to. 

Choso parked on the opposite side of the street, turning off the car as your eyes looked at the wooden door across the street almost resentfully. “Ready?” he asked, knowing you’d refuse to face the music were he not there. 

With a begrudged exhale, you nodded your head. 

Choso held the car door open for you, holding your hand as you stepped onto the street. You almost resented how polite he was- knowing if it were anyone else they would have invited you to stay the night- regardless if it was a first date. 

But not him, Choso didn't dare to even think of asking that of you.

And as you stood before him on your unlit porch, you smiled, “Thank you.” with a whisper, looking into his eyes as he scanned the prominent aspects of your face.

“Don't thank me.” he murmured, his voice low and throaty as he watched the sparkle in your eye round your pupil. 

With a modist smile, you looked at him impatiently. “I think this is where you kiss me goodnight.” you leaned forward mere millimeters as Choso refused to step back this time. 

He gulped at your words, “It wouldn't be polite.” he dissuaded lowly as you grinned innocently. 

Close enough that you were breathing the same air- “It would be more impolite not to, Choso.” you compelled, watching his gaze dart from your lips back to your eyes. 

He raised his hands to the side of your face- thumbs caressing your temples softly, parting your lips as his fingers kept a light touch beneath your ears. You fluttered your eyes closed as you heard ringing in your mind, cheeks warm and tingling as you awaited.

Only you awaited something to press against your lips- But Choso had other plans.

His parted lips pressed onto the center of your forehead, pulling away with your head in his hands. It wasn't disappointment- more like a challenge that you felt. “Goodnight,” he spoke your name in an intoxicating tone, softly taking his hands from your face and taking a step back from you.

You couldn't help but smile at his chivalry, “You're cruel.” you whispered, earning a quiet half-laugh from his chest. 

“It’s not respectful to kiss you on a first date.” He scolded playfully, watching you roll your eyes lightheartedly. 

You stared at him as you leaned your back onto the door, placing your hand on the brass knob before sucking your teeth. “When is a respectful time then?” you murmured, watching his hands slide into his coat pockets.

“Third. Maybe even fourth date.” he smiled, knowing that would gain a feigned groan of dissatisfaction from you. Though it was earlier than you'd like-  10:43 to be exact, you were still grateful he was courteous enough to bring you back home as though you had a curfew. 

“Goodnight Cho.” you smiled, turning the brass knob as he kept his eyes on you.

Were the porch light on you’d be able to see the beaming blush on his cheeks, “Goodnight.” he replied sweetly, watching as you stepped into your house, taking one last look at him before waving a small goodbye. 

Choso was able to contain the excitement in his throat till he turned away from your porch, his lungs threatening to start hyperventilating as he tried to confirm with himself if that actually just happened. He stood at the car door- looking up at the sky and thanking whatever celestial being was out there for the lucky hand he was dealt. 

There was one thought in his mind at that moment. He was now sure that you made him feel more alive and far less lost than he felt without you. And he relished in that thought as he drove back to his apartment, no longer fearing the future- if anything he was thrilled to know that for the first time, love finally loved him back.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

and if I told you I over indulged sooo much in this chapter??? and if i said........ I almost hemorrhaged writing this?!!! this was too cute, (just wait till I write abt the first time they have sex) And if you're curious- yes the rewarding cigarette was delicious.

[adasitecompliance]

AI Influences Web Accessibility

The Future Of AI And Web Accessibility

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To grasp how AI influences web accessibility, we first need to define it.

Artificial Intelligence involves developing software and systems that perform tasks requiring human intelligence. AI achieves this through various technologies, including natural language processing and computer vision. As these functions become more accessible, they benefit society even more

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Accessibility technologies provide tools and solutions to ensure that people with disabilities can access and use web content effectively. These technologies, including AI-powered tools like chatbots, digital platforms like GPT, screen readers, and alternative input devices, are designed to enhance digital accessibility and foster inclusivity.

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Did you know that AI-powered virtual assistants and chatbots can significantly enhance online browsing?

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Imagine a world where images and text describe everything around you. AI-powered screen readers and text-to-speech technologies make written content accessible for visually impaired individuals. Additionally, image recognition systems can describe photos, videos, and live scenes, offering valuable assistance to those with visual impairments.

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AI is revolutionizing web accessibility, offering numerous benefits that enhance the online experience for individuals with disabilities. Here are some key advantages AI brings to web accessibility:

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AI has significantly advanced web accessibility for individuals with disabilities. It removes obstacles, enabling users to navigate websites, consume multimedia content more, and engage in online communities more effectively.

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AI empowers individuals with disabilities to use the internet independently. This innovation allows them to manage their online activities without assistance, fostering greater inclusion and promoting autonomy.

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AI enhances online accessibility, but it also introduces several challenges. Here are some key issues AI poses for web accessibility:

i) Accuracy Challenges

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ii) Over-Reliance

Relying too heavily on AI to improve web accessibility can result in overlooking other essential aspects of accessible design. Use AI alongside comprehensive other accessibility guidelines and principles and not seen as a universal solution.

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With AI becoming more advanced, it will continue enhancing technology usability and improving web accessibility. Developers will save time and resources when using these tools to discover and fix accessibility issues.

Remember that automated tools cannot guarantee accessibility compliance.

Human knowledge and manual testing by experienced accessibility auditing specialists will still be needed to discover complicated issues and create a fully inclusive user experience for elders and disabled people.

This is where we at ADA Site Compliance can help. We have a team of accessibility experts and web developers who stay updated with the latest regulatory trends to help organizations like yours ensure all web content meets accessibility standards.

For all your website and digital content accessibility needs, contact ADA Site Compliance today!

[marjoch]

FOR SURE

TA viktor x undergrad jayce. jayce has acquired his number, and they go out. ft. a dash of stoner viktor x takes one hit and dies jayce

chapter 2 of 16

early updates ao3 @ josmarch !

A university in California, November.

The breeze was perfect. There were a few clouds dotting the skies, and grad student Viktor was hoping for rain. Born and raised in the Queens borough of New York City, he was used to more diverse weather. He’d been in California throughout his college education, and he still mourned the winter snow.

Today was particularly intriguing for Viktor, because he was a teacher’s assistant in an advanced chemistry lab. It wasn’t the work that intrigued him — sure, it was the best way to ease into a career, especially being given the opportunity to assist one of the university’s most renowned science professors. This would look good on his resume. No, it was one person. Viktor showed up early each day, just for the chance to spend even a moment alone with Jayce Talis.

Jayce started class as a dedicated student, turning in his work early and asking questions when it was necessary. Viktor had stopped by him and his lab partner several times, to check in, and maybe even to have an excuse to talk to him. There was something about him that was almost magnetic, and when their eyes met during experiments, Viktor noticed the way Jayce averted his quickly. Was there something there? He couldn’t tell.

Viktor could start conversations easily, but they would only go so far. He’d given Jayce advice on keeping up with classwork, noticing how he started lagging behind. When he was helping Professor Heimerdinger grade assignments, he saw how Jayce’s neat writing in the early semester turned into scrawling letters by now, indicative that he was rushing. He must have been a busy man, Viktor reasoned.

Intriguing, then. There was no better word for it.

Viktor’s eyes scanned the lab, watching pairs of students dutifully titrate their solutions. Jayce was partnered with Sky, a young woman Viktor had worked with before. He’d tutored her in an anatomy class, and he knew she was smart, so he felt they were a good match. Initially he’d suggested pairing them on purpose, to give Jayce the upper hand. He now knew that Jayce was capable of holding his own, even with his apparently occupied schedule.

He was caught looking, then, as Jayce’s eyes met his own. Before Viktor had the chance to redeem himself by continuing his glance across the rest of the students, Jayce turned away quickly. He muttered something to Sky, who looked back. That was enough to prompt Viktor to move on. He made his way around the classroom, stopping by a pair of young men who were increasingly frustrated with their attempts.

“I can’t figure this shit out,” one of them was saying to the other. He noticed Viktor, and straightened, correcting his profanity. “I can’t figure this out.”

Viktor looked down at their setup. “Refrain from rushing,” he offered. “Half a drop is the difference between just enough, and too much.”

The second student nodded, and turned back to the experiment. Viktor moved on.

His next stop was Jayce’s table. Sky was tending to the titration while Jayce was bent over, head in his hands.

Viktor had to ask. “Is everything okay over here?”

He noticed the urgency in Jayce’s adjustment. He sat up quickly, hands quietly hitting the table, eyes meeting the teacher’s assistant. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Was his tone almost… nervous?

Viktor feigned nonchalance. “I’m just checking in.” He looked back at the pair he’d just left. “A few students had other questions.” It was hard not to draw his eyes immediately back to Jayce, and it was a coordinated move to look back at the pair he was in front of.

“We’re alright, thank you,” Sky interjected, effectively saving Jayce from speaking again. Viktor was no stranger to the subtleties of their exchange.

Viktor nodded, letting the conversation end there. In his eyes, it was almost an effort to test the waters. Jayce seemed nervous in his presence, but he wasn’t sure if it was an honest perception.

“Actually, Viktor?” Sky’s voice interrupted his dismissal. Viktor turned around, waiting for her continuation. “Jayce had a question.”

Viktor looked between the two of them. It was quiet as he walked back, ready to answer a question related to science. The silence around the table was deafening: the sound of chatter could be heard in the background, but his focus eliminated it completely.

Sky seemed exasperated, as if Jayce was causing her problems. “He wanted to ask for your number.”

So it wasn’t an actual problem, then, and she was a supporter. It was impressive how easily she was able to get the words out while Jayce sat, stunned. Jayce gave her a look, and kept his eyes on her as she went back to her work, as if nothing was going on.

“Is that true?” Viktor addressed Jayce, finally earning his gaze. He waited, leaning on his cane, and Jayce finally sighed.

“Yes.”

Viktor was pleased. He’d had the thought in his mind for sometime, but would not be the one to say it because of his position as a teacher’s assistant. He’d never dated anyone that wasn’t on his academic level, and even then, it had been fleeting — more of a concept than a relationship. “Give me your notes.”

Jayce seemed surprised. His face turned white, hands shaking as he flipped the page and handed it over.

Viktor took it, putting his pen to paper. He considered writing the number as it was, but enjoyed the fun of a game: he drew out a complicated equation in which the answer was ten digits, and handed the notebook back with ease. “There you go.”

Jayce just stared at him, as if he was still processing the event. Viktor wasted no time in moving on, the thought of Jayce occupying his mind as he did his job in helping students who struggled.

Viktor was by the front at the end of class, helping collect the notes that students were turning in. Sky was the one who brought up the notes from Jayce’s table, much to Viktor’s dismay. His eyes found Jayce on the way out, and he couldn’t help the slightest smile from appearing on his lips.

Back at home, Viktor kicked off his shoes and headed to the kitchen. His cat brushed up against his legs, waiting to be fed. He cracked open a can of cat food and spooned it into her bowl, putting it on the floor by her water bowl and petting her head gently.

“Missed you, Genevieve,” he said.

Since starting grad school, Viktor had been lucky enough to live alone. He’d been on a scholarship most of the experience: it was the only reason he was still in California. He longed for home, especially in the winter, but he was set on finishing the goal he’d set out to accomplish.

Granted, there was nothing for him at home. He was raised as a first-generation American, born to Czech parents who’d passed away at different points in his childhood and adult years. But while he didn’t have much to go back to, he longed for it all the same.

There was work to do. Once Genevieve was fed, he made his way to the dining room table. It was covered in stacks of textbooks, varieties of notes, and assignments he was helping Professor Heimerdinger to sort through. He propped his cane up against the table as he sat and started, playing some easy music from his phone to get through it. Classical was his go-to for work: it lacked words to distract from the task at hand, and it was a reminder of when he studied piano.

The night settled in, and Viktor had to turn a lamp on to see what he was doing. While the rest of the dining table chairs were nice mahogany, the chair he sat on was on wheels. It allowed him to move across the room without the effort of getting up, and he utilized it now, rolling over to the lamp and turning it on before returning to the table.

Once he was finished sorting through everything for class, he started on his own homework. It was extensive — he was working on a thesis, and he kept stalling. It was frustrating, but he was determined.

Sometime in the midst of his work, his phoned buzzed on the table. Viktor came to a stopping point before picking it up, looking at the screen. It was an unknown number, with the simplest inquiry: Is this Viktor?

It had to be Jayce. He couldn’t help but smile, and he composed a response.

I think you have the wrong number.

His phone informed him the text was read. He hesitated, waiting to see if anything else would come through, and then redeemed himself.

Kidding

Viktor went back to work, trying to remain focused, but finding his thoughts wandering back to the text conversation that had just begun. That message was left on read, and after a few minutes, he weighed the options of texting again.

On one hand, he could successfully leeway into a real conversation. On another, he didn’t want to seem desperate. Jayce intrigued him, as he’d come to realize.

Fuck it.

How was your day?

That was easy enough. He went back to work, doing his best to pay attention to his homework, fingers dancing on the edge of the table at a familiar tune he’d played on piano years ago.

The phone buzzed. Viktor looked immediately.

I’m good, how are you?

He let a few minutes pass by. Viktor wondered why he was thinking about this so strategically. Jayce was just a man.

Good enough. Do much with your evening?

He hardly had time to put his phone down before Jayce responded. Device still in hand, he read over the words.

Spent it working our your equation

So Jayce had cared enough to work it all out. Obviously, he thought, because he’d been texted, and he hadn’t given the answer of his phone number outright. Jayce didn’t sound like he had any help.

Even if he had, would Viktor have cared?

Viktor looked between his own homework, and the phone.

You should probably do your homework.

If Jayce had spent the majority of his evening up until this point solving an equation that was irrelevant to his academic career, what would Viktor have to look over the next class they met? He liked seeing into Jayce’s mind. The way he documented his findings was different than anyone else: he had a perspective that viewed things from a new angle, and Viktor wanted to pick his brain.

I’d rather talk to you

It was the first text that truly had him sitting in silence. The piano score he was listening to faded out, and it took a minute for the next track to fade in, accurately representing his reaction.

What to say to that?

Viktor set his pen to his paper again, an attempt to get back to business. He made it through a few problems, but his mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t focus while the conversation still hung in the air.

We could talk over drinks. Friday?

After sending it, he squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would result in an easier letdown. He was prepared for Jayce to back out. Maybe he had plans Friday, with some girl he was seeing. Viktor remembered the start of the semester, when a beautiful woman walked him to class every day, kissing him in the hallway. He remembered the jealousy he’d felt, totally unprompted.

Give me a time and place, and I’m there

Relief flooded his body. Viktor sat back in his chair, fully stepping away from his work for the first time. Where should he take him? Was this a date?

There was no one around to consult, so he thought long and hard about a time and place, just as requested. He finally settled, and texted back, turning off his phone and setting it down on the table.

Viktor sighed deeply. The music kicked back in, and he went back to work. Once he started, it was easy to continue, and he finished before it was late. That was a success, because he was usually up until the early hours of the morning, barely making it to bed before he collapsed of exhaustion.

Done with his work, Viktor rose from the table and made it to his room. He changed for bed and crawled under the blankets, cane against the bedside table. Genevieve made an appearance, settling next to him while he leaned against the pillows.

One last text to Jayce. It couldn’t hurt.

Goodnight

He set his alarms to rise early, and put his phone on his bedside table. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep with Jayce on his mind, and he found himself pondering the concept of Jayce next to him as he did.

The days dragged on now that Viktor was anticipating Friday. The lab wasn’t meeting again for the rest of the week, so Viktor had no excuse to see Jayce before then. He was lucky enough to see him from a distance across campus, and Jayce waved at him before he had the chance to react. He raised a hand to wave back as Jayce moved on, a taller girl dressed in blue chatting by his side.

Was it a lover? He couldn’t tell. Viktor hardly knew anything about Jayce’s life, but he wanted to know more.

He would just have to wait.

When the hour finally arrived, Viktor was on time. He dressed in trousers, and settled on a white button-down under a navy sweater vest. When he opened the door, his eyes searched the bar.

Sitting at the counter was Jayce, wearing jeans, a similar white button-down, and a light jacket. He looked at his phone and then turned towards the door, eyes immediately finding Viktor.

Jayce smiled and waved, and Viktor knew the game was already over. Jayce had him right where he wanted him.

Viktor didn’t know how badly Jayce wanted him back.

“Hello,” greeted Jayce as Viktor walked to the counter. Jayce stood, standing in front of him.

“Good evening,” was Viktor’s response. “You’re early.”

“I’m very punctual,” Jayce shrugged a little.

“I know,” Viktor nodded.

Jayce seemed surprised that Viktor noticed his attention to detail. He turned to the bartender, a buff man with his hair pulled back. “What do you have on draft?”

The bartender elaborated, and Jayce ordered one of the beers. He turned to Viktor, then. “What do you drink?”

“I’ll have the same,” Viktor told the bartender, who grabbed a second glass.

Jayce pulled out his card, but Viktor was faster, cash in hand. The bartender sat the drinks in front of them. “Eighteen dollars,” the bartender informed. Viktor gave him a twenty, and found another five in his wallet.

“Keep the change,” Viktor nodded, picking up the glasses and handing one to Jayce. He focused on Jayce. Now that they were closer, he noticed the amber in his eyes, the same he saw when he looked in the mirror. Between the shirts and their gaze, they were already on a good track. “Want to talk somewhere quieter?”

Jayce just nodded. Viktor thought it was cute that he was so enthusiastic.

Viktor grabbed his hand, cane hanging from his arm, and led them through the growing crowd towards the back of the bar. There were booths up against the wall on one end, and Viktor dropped Jayce’s hand as they made it to an empty one.

They slid into the seats on either side. Viktor took a drink from his glass, and Jayce set his on the table, watching. Viktor put his down, then, meeting his gaze.

“So,” Jayce started, voice trailing off.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, waiting. “So…?”

“So, uh, how are your classes?” Jayce attempted, sipping at his beer.

“I didn’t ask you out to talk about classes,” Viktor said.

Jayce choked, coughing on his drink. “Wrong pipe,” he informed, redirecting his cough into his sleeve and catching his breath.

“Are you okay?” Viktor asked, concerned.

“Is this a date?” Jayce answered with a question.

Viktor was surprised by his bluntness. It was already giving him more insight into Jayce’s character, and how he was upfront about things. “Do you want this to be a date?”

So many questions, back and forth, with no answers. Neither of them cared.

“Um, yes,” Jayce decided, raising his beer to his lips again to escape elaboration.

Viktor just shrugged. “Yes, then.”

Jayce nodded, looking around the bar. “This is a nice place. Do you come here often?”

Viktor noticed the way Jayce had a hard time making eye contact. Was it his effect on the man, or was Jayce uninterested?

“Only when I’m talking to men,” Viktor joked. He hadn’t brought anyone here, but he had been several times before. Even on weekends, it wasn’t insanely busy, and he valued the ability to navigate through the bodies.

“So you’re gay, then,” Jayce deduced.

Viktor laughed a little. “Yes, Jayce,” he said. “I’m gay. Do I not look gay?”

“You can’t be sure these days,” Jayce answered. “I didn’t want to assume and look like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Viktor reassured, taking another drink. “Your work is very well-spoken, although I have noticed the decline in your efforts. I’m surprised you were free to meet me, I imagine you’re very busy.”

Jayce seemed like he’d been caught. Viktor was curious. “Thanks,” he said, working on his beer. “I’m gay, too. Well, I’m bi.”

“I assumed,” Viktor said. “You’re better than me to ask.”

“I don’t think we should have to ask. I think it’s stupid. We should just love who we love.”

Viktor noticed how Jayce filled every empty space with words, like he was trying to convince him to stay engaged. Viktor wasn’t going anywhere. He reached out and touched Jayce’s hand, enough to ground him, and then sat back again. “Tell me about yourself.”

Jayce divulged, then, and Viktor paid attention. He wasn’t surprised to hear that Jayce was from LA, but Jayce had endless questions about New York. Viktor answered all of them, and the night passed.

Sometime into their second drinks, Jayce brought up his thesis. “I’ve been stumped lately. I want to research temporal anomalies.”

“That’s bold,” Viktor commented, watching Jayce from across the booth.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” Jayce drank from his beer. He could hold his alcohol, but Viktor’s presence made him feel more intoxicated. The teacher’s assistant was like a drug.

Viktor wasn’t fazed by the idea. “I think it’s brilliant. I’ve yet to encounter anyone else studying that subject.”

Jayce smiled. “You think so?”

Viktor particularly liked Jayce’s smile. It was always genuine, not forced, and it made Viktor feel comfortable. Like his words or opinion mattered. And there was that tooth gap that gave Jayce a sense of human realness, not completely perfect, except in his own way. It was perfect to Viktor.

“Of course,” Viktor said, affirming his thoughts. “I can help sometime, if you want. Not that you need it.”

“You mean it?”

Was that excitement in his tone? Viktor wanted to find out.

“You should show me your work sometime. I can look over it.”

Jayce finished his beer, and set the glass down. “I’m free now.”

God, he was just Viktor’s type. A date at a bar, followed by research? It was what he was planning to do when he got home anyway.

Viktor finished his beer, a mirror image of Jayce. He slid out of the booth, leaning on his cane, and Jayce picked up both glasses to carry them back to the bar. So he cared enough to make life easier for the bartender, Viktor thought. He walked with Jayce, and the pair of them headed out to the street.

“Did you walk?” Jayce asked. When Viktor nodded, he continued. “Me too. I live close.”

They set off, then. There was small talk between them: Jayce commenting on the stars, Viktor asking him if he had a favorite constellation. He thought it suited Jayce to prefer the archer. It held the most stars of any constellation, representative of his many thoughts, all interesting to Viktor.

They arrived at Jayce’s residence: a building of four units, with an entrance to each on the outside. Jayce led them to his unit. He fumbled for his keys and unlocked the door, pulling it open upon his success.

“Welcome,” said Jayce, motioning inside. He held the door for Viktor, who entered, taking in the apartment.

Jayce’s living quarters were just how Viktor imagined. It was an open floor plan, with the living room bleeding into the kitchen, and not a dining room table in sight. There was a couch in front of a television, which was on, some action show being ignored by Jayce’s roommate: a young woman with vibrant pink hair, lying on the couch, laughing on the phone with someone.

“Hey,” Jayce greeted her. “This is Viktor.”

“Yeah, hold on,” the woman was saying into the phone. She sat up, then, and gave a wave. “I’m Vi,” she introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Viktor said, standing near Jayce.

Jayce pointed down the hall. “My room is the one at the end of the hall. I’ll grab us a beer and be right there.”

Viktor nodded, and made his way towards the room. Jayce watched him go, and then went to the refrigerator, opening it and finding two bottles. He popped the caps off, and began to head past Vi.

“I know, I know,” Vi was smiling. “I won’t do it again, promise.” A pause, and then a laugh. “Oh, you don’t believe me?”

As Jayce passed her, Vi waved for his attention. He turned to her, and she gave him a thumbs up.

“Nice,” she said, mouth away from the phone. Then she laid back down, turning to her conversation: “Come on! You have to give me some credit. He deserved it.”

In Jayce’s room, Viktor flipped on the light to find the missing dining room table. The bed was small, pushed into one corner, and the table took up the majority of the space. A wall had been painted as a chalkboard, and it was full of scrawling writing, equations and formulas. The rest of the apartment was what he expected, then — the room was different, because he didn’t know just how dedicated Jayce was. It was almost a breath of relief: maybe he did understand Viktor’s own passion for science.

“Hey,” Jayce greeted, coming into the room and handing Viktor a beer, shutting the door behind him.

Viktor pulled his attention from the board for a second, taking the beer, and motioning at the wall. “You did all this?”

Jayce nodded. “It’s a lot, I know,” he sighed. “It keeps me up at night.”

Viktor looked between Jayce and the board. “Do you mind?”

Jayce shook his head, picking up a piece of chalk and handing it to him. “Please.”

When Viktor took it, their fingers brushed together, and it sent shivers down his spine. He looked over the board. “Have you considered it backwards?”

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Viktor put the chalk to the black wall, finding an empty space and rewriting the problem from another perspective. When he was finished, he stepped back.

“Oh,” Jayce said, putting his hands on his head as if he’d just had a breakthrough. “Oh, you’re good.”

Viktor smiled, and managed a nonchalant shrug. “I try.”

“You don’t have to try,” Jayce said without thinking. Then he sighed, as if he should’ve thought through his words better. Viktor thought it was cute.

“Do you smoke?”

The question from Viktor turned Jayce’s attention from math to the man beside him.

“Sometimes,” Jayce offered, lying through his teeth.

“Do you want to?” Viktor asked. “I have a joint on me. We could go outside.”

“We can smoke in here, I don’t care,” Jayce shrugged. “Vi doesn’t care, either.”

Viktor didn’t care. He had the joint in a small plastic tube in his pocket, and he produced it, popping it open. He dumped it out into his hand.

“I don’t have a lighter,” Viktor informed. “Or an ashtray.”

“Hold on,” Jayce sprang into action, leaving the bedroom in a flash. Viktor hardly had time to continue looking around at the posters of old sci-fi movies and the crystals sitting under Jayce’s windowsill before Jayce came back, lighter and ashtray in hand.

He shut the door. He handed the lighter to Viktor, and set the ashtray on the table. There was something about the way Jayce was always in action, ready to supply whatever Viktor needed. If they hadn’t been talking in this way, Jayce would’ve made a good lab assistant, or even a partner in science.

Viktor put the joint between his lips, and Jayce watched him hold the lighter to it like it was a movie. Viktor inhaled, and breathed out the smoke, sighing in relief. He’d started smoking for medicinal reasons years ago, but he would be remiss if he denied enjoying the recreational benefits.

After another puff, Viktor passed it over to Jayce. Jayce had smoked before, but it had been years. He inhale through the filter, trying to play it cool, and began coughing the second the smoke hit the back of his throat. Clouds of smoke erupted as he coughed, doubling over.

Viktor took the joint back, the faintest smile on his lips. Jayce reached for his beer, and desperately sipped. Before Viktor could ask anything, Jayce assured, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Viktor took another drag, watching Jayce carefully. When Jayce stood up straight again, finally recovered, Viktor extended the joint to him again. Jayce hesitated, but took it.

“You don’t have to hit that,” Viktor said.

Jayce wasn’t listening. He hit the joint again, this time easier, careful. When he exhaled, he did so successfully, and handed it back over. Viktor noted how he looked as if he’d succeeded at some achievement, and he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath.

“What?” Jayce asked, catching his reaction.

“Nothing,” Viktor responded, taking another drag. Again, Jayce watched him, enjoying the view. Viktor felt his gaze, but played it off, turning back to the board as he continued smoking. He held out the joint to Jayce at some point, and Jayce waved his hand in denial.

“I’m tapping out,” Jayce said. “You go on.”

Viktor had no complaints. He put the chalk on the wall again, considering the work Jayce had already done. He turned back, pointing to a specific part of the equation. “Do you have the notes for this?”

Jayce nodded, and fumbled through the pages on the table. When he found the right one, he handed it over easily. Viktor read through it, still smoking. This time, he hardly felt Jayce’s gaze, which was hyper-focused. Viktor flicked the ash into the ashtray, and carried on.

While Viktor was working, Jayce was faltering. He pulled out a chair to sit down, and Viktor recognized the experience he was having. “Do you want some water?”

Jayce shook his head, sipping from his beer, not speaking. Viktor could have carried on with the equation, but he set the notes down and leaned against the table, eyes on Jayce.

“I’m okay,” Jayce said, but Viktor could tell he was struggling.

“Do you want to lay down?” Viktor asked.

“Maybe,” Jayce couldn’t decide.

Viktor put the joint out, leaving the remains in the ashtray, and opened a window to ventilate the room. It was chilly outside, but neither of them complained.

“I’m going to go,” Viktor decided, setting the chalk down. “You should get some rest. We can continue this another day.”

Jayce looked disappointed, but he didn’t argue. “Let me walk you out.”

Viktor was wary, but Jayce rose, and walked to his bedroom door. Just as he had outside, he held it open for Viktor, who made his exit.

At the front door, they lingered. Jayce was captivating as ever, but Viktor wasn’t going to make a move while he was far too high on top of the beers they’d shared. “I had a great time tonight,” he told Jayce, who smiled and stared at the ground.

“I’m glad,” Jayce finally met Viktor’s eyes again, nerves racking his body. He would’ve felt this way under the influence or not.

“Text me,” Viktor said.

Jayce was still beaming, and he nodded. “I will. Get home safe?”

Viktor echoed him. “I will.” He made his way off of the porch entrance. “Goodnight, Jayce.”

“Goodnight,” Jayce called after him, watching Viktor until he disappeared from sight.

[tenderwatches]

Ch. 37 of Lies We Tell Ourselves is up!

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

chapter teaser

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

chapter excerpt

Chapter 37: Mortality Murmurs

The necessary advancement in their rune work is… macabre.

This isn’t surprising to Viktor. What does is how eagerly he embraces it.

A few days after their first trial, Jayce approaches him looking as if he carries a brewing storm in his gut. Viktor has taken to doing much of his reading in the small, brick-walled garden behind Jayce’s townhouse. It’s pleasantly warm, thanks to the pair of sun apple trees cultivated from Ionia. This day, like the others, have been more restful than Viktor would like. He’d prefer to be back at work, but he’s trying to be gracious. Dozing feels like laziness, but, as Jayce continually points out, his fatigue is data in and of itself, and he should simply observe it in its natural course.

Jayce, Sky, and Thomas have all been kind enough to bring him books from the academy’s library. He’s sent them running from stack to stack, requesting a book on biology here, dendrochronology there, and, memorably, a collection of cadaver drawings from a post-mortem medical study done with victims of the same kind of pneumoconiosis that afflicts him.

He’s been keeping a private log of observations in a small notebook tucked between pages of his technical research—just notes, really. They’re the product of many hours spent self-assessing, scanning over himself from limb to limb, feeling each flutter of his heart, each cough, each mouthful of blood.

The entries are meticulous, clinically detached. Overall, the log only reiterates what they already know, leading him to draw the same conclusions as Sky, Thomas, and Jayce did after they reviewed his readouts after the treatment. For a first trial on a body as ill as his, the fact that they’ve made progress at all is truly remarkable—but it’s not enough. Still, ever dedicated and ceaseless in his diligence, he records the aches, turns, and progress of his physical body in words that may outlast him.

He watches as Jayce approaches from beyond the garden gate. Jayce’s posture shouts of unease, his eyes downcast.

“You seem deep in your thoughts,” Viktor mutters as he cranes his neck to look at the other man from where he lies, stomach down, on the blanket. His head is pillowed on his arms, which, in turn, sandwich a book on vascular abnormalities between him and the ground.

Dappled sunlight filters through the canopy of tree branches that frame Jayce where he stands. Viktor reaches a lazy hand up towards his partner to beckon him down.

Jayce sighs and takes Viktor’s hand, sinking down beside him. “I think I have our solution for your next trial.”

“A triumph then.” Viktor rolls onto his side, shifting so one of Jayce’s calves pillows his neck, his head cradled in his partner’s lap. “But you seem a little… eh, what do you say… ‘down in the mouth’? About it?”

Despite Jayce’s melancholy, Viktor catches a tiny twitch at the corner of his lips, rewarding the bid for levity. Invoking Jayce’s fondness for his habit of picking up colloquialisms from Jayce and their assistants is predictably sufficient.

“Well, I don’t like the solution,” Jayce begrudges, the smile fading. Viktor gives a soothing hum, pressing a brief kiss to Jayce’s thigh through the fabric of his pants.

They both do this, he’s noticed, reaching out to touch one another in innocuous ways, especially when seeking comfort or to give it. Usually, they favour motion, letting their touch meander across aimless paths along one another’s bodies. Sometimes, though, it’s something like this—a fleeting moment of contact to convey reassurance, desire, or presence. It’s like they’re still getting to know one another through the language of touch, finding synonyms for love.

“Thomas worked out that the excess energy was a result of insufficient channelling. The healing you need is too challenging in relation to the rune sequences, so, like systems of high pressure seeking lower pressure, the arcane went elsewhere.”

Viktor listens, reaching his free hand overhead to tap along the buttons of Jayce’s vest. They’re tiny brass things made with an imprint of the austere ‘T’ of Jayce’s house. Jayce watches him with a bemused expression, and Viktor glances up at his upside-down face before sharing a smile that feels conspiratorial. “I am listening. Please, continue.”

Despite Jayce’s reciprocal smile (he seems to find Viktor’s nonchalance both unbelievable and charming), he sighs. “We’ll need to make the ease of flowing through the channels greater than the difficulty of the healing required. And… Sky proposed that one way to do this is to… strengthen the biological connection. But we couldn’t calculate a blood-to-ink ratio that does what we need without bleeding you dry, so, I think… we’ll need to cut the runes directly into your skin.”

Jayce seems to expect horror, but Viktor blinks up at him with simple expectation before replying, “Well, then. What are we waiting for?”

A strange thrill courses through him—not at the prospect of pain, but at true progression. A step closer to breathing without the weight crushing his lungs. A step toward life. His catalogue of symptoms has grown long enough; pain is hardly a steep price to pay.

(Read the rest on AO3!)(Or start from the beginning!)

[aricr]

My thoughts on TED (the planet) and its people (just headcanons)

I had some thoughts/headcanons about TED (the planet + its people).  (Slight spoilers for s2 of Midnight Burger?)

It’s been established that:

An algorithm rules the TEDs. They trust it, and (allegedly) have no real leaders.

They worked on this algorithm for a long time until it learned to improve itself

The education system is geared toward people’s strengths, and the algorithm and presumably authority figures steer kids in the direction of a fitting career, and that will help push the Empire forward.

There used to be rainforests like the ones on earth

THEREFORE (and this is where my headcanons come in)

I think maybe industrialization took hold. They were the Earth before Earth in that way.

The difference is that because they’re a much more advanced civilization, it looks cleaner. They clean up nice and decorate their cities with artificial (and maybe electric/mechanical) trees, plants, etc.  This helps keep the younger population's morale up, while the workforce works to find a solution for their rapidly depleting resources. The algorithm works to train the younger generation and push them toward what they do best individually in a way that helps the workforce continue.

NOW we get into the good stuff

The TEDs got desperate and started looking for....more questionable solutions. 

Eventually, someone gets an idea. It's drastic, and they do some small tests. But it works. 

They start working on a larger model immediately and announce their success to the population; a way to connect their planet to others like it. An age for diplomacy and cultural exchange. Of planets helping each other. A bridge of sorts. My guess is that they were very open about their system of scanning for life on different systems because the corruption hadn’t taken hold yet, at least not completely. Everything would be okay if they followed protocol. If they stuck to the plan. 

A team had already departed to get a head start on construction.

MY THOUGHTS ON THE TEDs AS A PEOPLE/SPECIES (based on my Ted (singular) design and my inspirations behind it)

Building and tech have always been a lot easier for TEDs. Evolutionarily speaking, they can transfer small shocks of electricity from one place to another simply through touch. They're an electric bunch, like electric eels.

My good friend @mostdeviouswizard asked if the shocks are affected by emotions, and the answer is YES! So in my Ted design, his scales/freckles light up, along with sparks from the ends of his antennae. This also applies to other strong emotions and is a defense mechanism (evolutionarily speaking, against prey and such).  

Becoming an Earth expert was a great way for the TEDs to use his expertise to help find resources. He always loved the forests of his planet (or what was left of them). When he realized humans were chopping down their forests and burning through their natural resources, he could see them going the same way they were headed--only they didn't have the advancements of the TEDs. They would doom themselves, and those beautiful resources on their planet. That would explain why he has such strong feelings about life on other planets, especially their forests & other flora. 

I was just drawing and had the cute idea of possible small electric shocks bc I made his little scales/freckles glow blue and then went "......Why do they do that tho."

So naturally, I IMMEDIATELY came up w this lore.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Hi, I'm the human who got trapped inside a TARDIS.

Thank you for the help, I managed to open the interior doors a few days ago and went looking for the owner. No luck, but I found a swimming pool, a huge library, kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms, science labs, entertainment rooms and what seems to be a huge park?

I don't know how on Earth something like this can even exist, but I guess there's all the time in the world to learn while waiting for rescue. I'm worried about the pilot though; isn't there a way to locate them, given how advanced this craft is?

Hi there, trapped human! Let's address your concerns about the pilot.

How to locate a TARDIS pilot

Do not attempt to operate the TARDIS flight controls without being absolutely sure it is safe. On earlier models, use of the console without a Symbiotic Nucleus may result in injury or a very slow and painful death.

Note: Most of the systems are in Gallifreyan. TARDISes do not tend to translate Gallifreyan, so you may not be able to read them.

Here are some methods you can try:

📡 Stattenheim Remote Teleport Control: Look for a small black disc stored in a transparent dome on the console. If properly calibrated, pressing this button may immediately transport you to the pilot. If it's not there, the pilot has taken it, or the TARDIS doesn't have the Mark X refit.

⏪ Fast Return Switch: This will return the TARDIS to an approximate time and location near where it last landed. It's clearly labelled on the console. Turn it clockwise to operate. [Use with caution]

📍 Locate the Doctor: Some models may have this feature. It is activated by pressing a button on the console labelled 'LTD' (your TARDIS may have another personalised variation). The Visual Display Unit will show the pilot's relative position on a map.

🧬 Passenger Adoption Scanning Terminal (PAST): This system registers and protects passengers. Due to how it works, if you’re registered, the pilot is likely still on board.

👥 Internal Monitor: A Mark II TARDIS can detect the number of sapient life forms onboard and display it on the Internal Monitor.

💻 The Scanner: The Scanner can locate the pilot's biodata within a two-mile radius outside the TARDIS. Some pilots have a preprogrammed switch by the scanner that will instantly display their pilot's location, but this is a modified feature.

🎤 Voice Interaction: Try speaking to the TARDIS. Some models respond to vocal commands for minor systems. If the TARDIS doesn’t respond, your voice print registration is required.

🔍 Artron Telepathic Radiation: If you find another Time Lord, they can scan for the pilot's ‘thumbprints’ left by their symbiotic nuclei to identify them.

🛠️ Cloister Room: This room contains telepathic circuits to communicate with the pilot, possibly providing an audiovisual link. It's accessible via a shortcut in the Secondary Control Room. Be cautious, as this room may have minor effects on your nervous system.

🚨 Extreme Emergency Lever: Crew members can use this lever to lock onto a pilot drifting in space and materialise around them.

🗝️ TARDIS Key: Use a key to locate anyone processed by the PAST (such as other crew members). Mix their blood with saline solution, coat the key, and suspend it in clear oil. The oxidised blood particles will 'point' in their direction.

🧠 Memory Store: Stores memories of TARDIS occupants, including audio-visual recordings of the Control Room. Useful to identify the pilot and the last time they were there.

💉 Medical Bay: The Automatic Diagnostic Terminal usually uses the pilot's avatar to communicate. You may be able to ask the avatar their identity, although responses may be limited.

If you need to take emergency action:

There is an 🚪Emergency Door located in the Power Stacks Room, leading outside. The 🚨 Fail-Safe Switch locks the TARDIS onto the nearest habitable environment, creating emergency doors. The 🆘 Emergency Emergency System (so emergent they named it twice) creates a wormhole to the nearest habitable planet. This is one way only, so there is no return to the TARDIS afterwards.

💀 Pilot Death & TARDIS Adoption

Usually, emergency systems will try to lock onto the pilot. If this is not happening, the pilot may have died without regeneration. TARDISes will normally go into a period of mourning following the death of their pilot, possibly involving a loss of power or shut down of many systems.

If you're finding systems are not shut down but have increasing suspicions the pilot may have died, this could be because:

The TARDIS has already gone through its period of mourning;

It has reactivated at your presence, hoping to establish a link with you;

It didn't really like its pilot very much.

It's not unheard of for humans to forge a bond with the TARDIS, especially if it's been left alone for some time. The TARDIS might be adopting you as its new caretaker, which would explain the access you've been granted. Some clues:

🎁 TARDISes sometimes leave gifts to welcome new arrivals. Look around for anything unusual or out of place.

💭 If you feel any strong intuitive pushes or thoughts, it might be the TARDIS trying to communicate with you.

🔑 If you're finding you have access to a lot of the TARDIS (including intricate systems), the TARDIS definitely likes you.

🏫 So ...

To locate the pilot or other crew members, try any of the procedures outlined above. Be sure to familiarise yourself with the main areas and secure access to food, water, and other necessities. The TARDIS can help—look for glowing arrows or symbols on the walls. These can lead you to important areas. Remember, the TARDIS is a complex and sentient machine. If it has adopted you, it will do its best to keep you safe, and it has a plethora of effective automated defences to achieve this.

Related:

🤔|🧬🛸What's the link between a Time Lord and their TARDIS?

💬|🧬🛸How does TARDIS symbiosis work for individuals and groups?: Details on this special Time Lord-TARDIS connection.

💬|🧬🛸How long can a bonded Time Lord be away from their TARDIS?: If extended absences can impact symbiosis, and also annoy your TARDIS.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Advances in nanostructure fabrication: Laser direct writing on Au nanofilm

A research team led by Xuesong Mei and Jianlei Cui from Xi'an Jiaotong University has made significant progress in the field of nanotechnology. They have successfully achieved the direct writing of nanostructures on Au nano-film using a nanosecond-laser-irradiated cantilevered scanning near-field optical microscopy (SNOM) probe tip. The fabrication of nanostructures beyond the diffraction limit has been a substantial challenge in nanotechnology. Conventional optical lithography is hindered by the diffraction limit, and electron beam lithography is not applicable to metal nanofilms. Scanning probe lithography (SPL) offers a solution for nanofabrication, but each type of SPL has its unique application conditions.

Read more.