#I truly don't know what to call him though

[cursedvida]

It's really crazy to me to see the hate Mae gets, like I was reading some reviews and I can understand not liking a character but as soon as they start with the name calling their opinion is invalid to me because they have no reason to be calling her a bitch, among other things, like it just reeks of mysogyny, (it's like they just want an excuse to call women names) and seeing it coming from other girls makes it worse like..

"Oh the girl was such a bitch why did she do that 🙄" ..is it really that hard to think for a moment about the circumstances in which mae was raised?? Do they need it spell it out for them?? Like, c'mon guys do you really think that the people trapped in a bunker for generations have anything nice to teach/say about the apes?? Wes Ball please give us Mae's backstory in the sequel!! Your audience needs it bc they are out there calling Mae the real villain and saying Proximus was right 💀 (when he was literally everything Caesar hated in an ape)

Look, I'm usually a polite person when expressing my opinions, but I'm fed up with the hate towards Mae, basically because the arguments people give seem incredibly basic to me, typical of people with little to no understanding. Sometimes I doubt if these people have watched the same movie as me or maybe they have some sort of cognitive dissonance, but seriously, I find them ridiculous. Either that, or they are basically the typical comments from misogynistic guys or women with internalized misogyny who can't stand morally gray and questionable female characters.

And well, having said that, I'm going to present my doctoral thesis on this topic:

One of the things I've seen the most is people saying that Mae is evil, the true villain, or an ungrateful traitor to Noa. This argument seems quite incomprehensible to me because, even though we don't have much data about her, I believe there's something very important that explains why she acts as she does: the Proximus apes killed the people in her group, including her mother. I mean: her damn mother. If we add to that the UNDERSTANDING (I mean, you have to be very short-minded not to assume something so obvious) that she has been raised in an environment where they've probably told her all her life that the apes are the reason for all the evils of humanity and the main reason why humans live in shitty conditions, I think anyone with half a brain has enough information to understand why she does what she does.

Yes, Noa is a good guy, but he's not helping her. Noa and Mae have a common goal and decide to ally themselves momentarily to achieve that goal, which is to reach Proximus. As much as they've formed a bond throughout the story, it's not yet strong enough for Mae to set aside what she has worked for so hard. Mae not only bears the weight of humanity on her shoulders but also emotionally carries the idea that she, as the sole survivor of her group, must complete the mission at all costs. Are those who criticize her telling me that if they truly thought that with certain actions they could not only save their species but also honor their loved ones who have been killed infront their eyes, they wouldn't do them? And that they wouldn't do them for someone they've just met, no matter how much they like them? That's just not realistic, it makes no sense. We would all do the same as Mae in her situation. I mean, I have no doubts.

Another thing I love is when they say she's the "true villain" as if it weren't clear enough that she feels bad every time since she forms a bond with Raka and Noa when she does something that she knows may harm them. She feels pain for Raka's death and clearly, you can also see the conflict and remorse when she detonates the bomb. It's not something she enjoys doing, but she HAS to do it. In the final scene, even though she's carrying a gun, you can also clearly see her in conflict with herself. Clearly, she doesn't want to kill him. Clearly, she has nothing against Noa, and this is evident when she finally accepts the necklace and they even shake hands. You can't tell me that's the attitude of a villain, narratively it's not presented as such, and seeing it that way is to have understood nothing.

Mae is a complex character whose life is based on survival, she's no different from the characters we're used to loving and idolizing in other post-apocalyptic series, the difference here for me is that she's human and humans have to be bad by default and also that she's a woman. Because female characters always have to be the support, the romantic interest, or the unconditional friends of heroic male characters, and Mae is none of that. Mae is a character with her own story and ambitions that go beyond Noa's plot. Mae has her own plot, and it seems that's something that bothers people a lot.

I'm sorry, but the hate towards Mae seems very similar to the one people had for Sansa Stark in Game of Thrones, which basically stemmed from people being misogynistic and hating complex and imperfect female characters, combined with how much they hate seeing protagonist characters with such human and real characteristics that they can't bear the idea of seeing themselves reflected in them.

But hey, for Sansa Stark, I would have killed, and now for Mae too. Mae haters basically DNI

[idyllcy]

and on and on, yeah we got the time

Word count: 1.2k || pt2 of on and on, || art creds: 30backyard (lofter)

summary: dorming is hell, so your boyfriend fixes that obv

"You know, Jay." You raise a brow as he does all of the heavy lifting, sliding your mattress on the ground into your shared bedroom in the new apartment. 

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Oh, god. Did you learn that while reading on ao3 again? Jesus." You grumble. "What I was going to say, though, was that you really... you probably could have called a moving company."

"Listen, lovely." He points. "You have me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh. "I love you too, Jay."

"Good, cuz I've seen how many weird fratboys make eyes at you on the daily, and I honestly think some of them need to get beat."

"Not like you couldn't beat them." You pat his shoulder. "Is that it?"

"Should be." He hums. "How do you like our place?"

"Can't wait to have all of my annoying ass textbooks slotted in the bookshelves that you decided were necessary while telling Bruce to remodel."

"Can't wait to have your dissertation plastered on the walls."

"Oh..." You mumble. "Our degrees... You plan on living here forever?"

"Just a little, maybe."

"Could we just throw the mattress off the balcony next time?"

"I mean, I'm not saying no..."

You find that Jason's still the biggest book nerd in college. His 4.0 is daunting compared to yours despite being in the same school as you, and it's just a little... terrifying. At the very least, all of his professors adore him. You find that it's at the very least — helpful. It's great that Jason's adored by your shared professors because when Jason accidentally lets slip that you're his girlfriend, it gives you a boost. You don't know how, but you end up relaying messages to Jason through your professors occasionally. You wonder just what kind of tactics Jason's employing to get on their good side an ungodly amount, but it's not your problem. Jason has the face card and the personality for it.

At the very least, when it comes to you, he does.

"Prof wants to see you at office hours." He hums. "English 102."

"Jesus, what did I do now?" You grimace.

"Probably that shitty essay you bullshitted."

"God." You mumble. "I truly need to get on your level."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He hums. "The art of knowing does not come easy."

"Yeah, yeah." You grumble. "We should get back to a book a week. Sorry, I mean I should get back to a book a week."

"You can start by catching up with me."

"M..." You pause. "How about... no."

"Well, your choice." Jason hums. "We're mid semester—"

"WHICH IS ANOTHER THING. WHY DID WE MOVE MID-SEMESTER??" You snap your head to look at him, annoyed. "Jay, baby."

"I know." He pouts. "But you hated that dorm too."

"Yeah, but now I have to change all of my mailing addresses. Again." You mumble. "I hate doing that. I don't know how many accounts I even have."

"At least you got all of your packages."

"I guess..." You sigh. "Well, at the very least... we own this place."

"We own the building."

"WHAT." 

"Correction. B bought the building and transferred ownership to me. I own the building."

"Oh my god." You mumble. "You truly are learning from the worst..."

"Worst being you?"

"Yes. Duh. How many times have I called B for a hundred dollars because I couldn't afford matcha?"

Jason holds back a laugh, closing his eyes as his brows furrow. "Matcha does not—"

"No, but B can spare it." You hum. "Don't worry. I pay him back with the abundance of gifts I bring with each travel."

"Which is on B's account." Jason pauses. "You know what? Yeah. Whatever. Eat the rich. I didn't steal his tires and strike gold for me to be telling you to go easy on his bank account."

You give him a thumbs up. "Well, I make my own as well. It's nice to not need to worry about tuition... but it's also a pain in the ass to not be able to make money here."

"At least you have a legal ssn and everything."

"Not."

"Not ssn. Sorry." He snorts. "Well, better than the goons in Gotham, I'm sure."

"Definitely." You hum.

Jason tunes out your rambling as he glances around the room. The couch would arrive soon, and the rest of the furniture (including the 4K HD TV that you deemed necessary in order to, and he quotes, "see men in 4k" on) would arrive soon. He wonders just what he would be doing had he not met you. 

Would his life have ended when he nearly lost his life? Would he have gone to find his mother had you not clung onto him and threatened suicide? Even then, you were insane. He glances back at you as you tilt your head at him, expecting an answer.

"Sorry, babe. Spaced out."

"I was asking if you wanted takeout for dinner."

"Maybe?" Jason pauses. "Sure. You wanna order?"

"There's a place downstairs that I wanted to go to." You hum. "Right out there."

"Hope that pizza is just as good as the one that Dick won't shut up about." Jason mumbles.

"You recon I could ask them if they take school dining dollars?"

"They don't."

"Wouldn't hurt to ask." You grin. 

"I'm not asking for you." He deadpans. "I'll search it on reddit for you, though."

"Mm... that works." You hum. "So... wanna tell me what was on that exam you took?"

"No."

"No?? Not even a clue??" You gasp, pretending to be hurt.

"You'll be fine."

"That 88 I got on my first exam begs to differ."

"You're my smart girl." He hums.

You grimace at him.

"Alright, alright. But you're paying for dinner."

"Bruce is, but yeah." You click on your phone, handing him the menu as you get cozy on the couch. 

Jason settles into a day to day with you, fingers interlaced with yours, placing grapes in your mouth as you rest, sigh breaking through your chest as you rest the book over your eyes.

"Tired?"

"Very." You hum. "How was your final?"

"I finished." He pulls another grape, pressing it to your lips as you part them to eat. "You're getting real lazy, sweetheart, you know that?"

"Yeah." You hum. "But you love me."

Jason pretends to think about it, tapping his chin as he puts the bowl down. "I don't know..."

"You're hand feeding me grapes and you're telling me you don't know if you love me?" You move the book from your eyes, raising a brow at him as you shuffle and lean on your elbows.. "Jason, beloved. If you tell me you don't know one more time I'm sending you straight to hell."

"By killing me?"

"Jay, baby?"

"Yes?"

"No." 

He reaches for the bowl again, breaking another grape off to give you.

"But you love me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh, taking the grape as Jason presses his lips to yours, giving you a quick kiss. You make a noise in protest.

"I love you more than words could express, sweetheart." He takes the last grape, slipping it past his own lips as you throw your head into the arm of the couch and groan.

"You cheeseball."

"Says the one who asked me out."

"I didn't even ask you out all that cheesily." 

"Yeah, but you asked me out."

"And you accepted it." You point. "Loser."

"Yeah, your loser."

"My loser." You sigh. 

[atlasmoonglade]

Joost Klein x OC!single mom

Chapter 1

Warnings: divorce mentioned, smut in later chapters.

This is just for fun, don't take too seriously.

Chapter 2

I scroll through Joost's Instagram realising I don't actually know anything about him.

A DM from the man I am currently stalking pops up at the top of my screen.

Hi

So, a singer, huh?

Surprised?

Honestly yes. Thought you would be a builder with such a strong back.

Still can't believe I almost knocked someone out just by standing.

Well, I did most of the work.

Joost Klein sent a post by ria3.jpg

ria3.jpg endless walks

Where was this taken? he asks.

I was visiting a friend and we would go on these long walks to catch up on everything.

He types, but then stops. Types and stops again.

Come for a run with me tomorrow morning?

Oh.

Define morning..

Like 8am? It will be more of a light jog, just something to start a day with a clear head.

I have to be back by noon.

Deal. Meet me next to the same coffee shop tomorrow 8am.

I put on my comfortable sneakers preparing for "a run" and head out. I am excited to see Joost again. Yesterday we spent a few hours sending each other's posts asking questions, sharing stories. I was complimenting his every outfit. It's been a while since I met a new friend, I don't usually have a lot of free time to maintain a new relationship.

Elliot is coming back today from staying at Nicholas' place. I thought I would have a relaxing time, which turned out to be a complete opposite. I miss Elliot too much and can't think of what to do with myself without him. Can't wait to hear about all the fun things he was up to, for his young age he is an incredible storyteller.

"There you are." a voice which already became familiar calls out. Joost is wearing a hat, black red hot chili peppers t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I can't fail to notice how much I like the shirt clinging to his body.

"Nice to see you early bird. So, where are we heading?" I block the sun shining in my eyes with my hand.

"I've been running every day since I arrived here, I already know a few good routes. Let's go." He waves a hand motioning for me to follow.

He leads, I follow.

"What thoughts are we running from?" I ask keeping up with him.

The corners of his mouth turn up into a slight smile. "It changes from day to day, just general anxiety I guess." He turns to look at me. "Do you not feel that way?"

"I do." I confess. "My way of coping is less active though - I journal." It is so easy to share things with him. It feels like he truly cares.

We continue running talking about what we did last week, he shares that he is here to write a song. We talk about music and his career, while pointing out various beautiful views. He stops a few times to snap photos.

"Stay like this. Looks really good." he points his phone at me. "You can capture this one endless runs." I laugh and he takes a photo. He puts his phone back in the pocket.

"Did it turn out good?" I ask.

"There is no way it didn't." He looks at me squinting from the bright sun.

"Because you are such a talented photographer?"

"Sure. Because of that." he smirks and continues walking.

"What are your plans for today? You said you have to be back by noon." he asks as I catch up to walk by his side, our arms slightly touching. I pull back.

"I have to get back home, my son is coming back from staying with his dad for the weekend." I say.

"How old is he? Your son."

"Recently turned 6."

He turns to look at me and smiles, continues walking forward.

"What?" I ask.

"Still can't believe you are someone's mom."

"Why? How do you imagine a mom?"

"I don't know." he looks forward. Silent for a moment. "Are you one of those milfs everyone keeps talking about?"

I push at his arm immediately getting an ick at what he said. "What the fuck dude" He bursts out laughing. I laugh too.

"Can't believe you just said that. What is wrong with you." I push him again, his arm feels tense under my touch.

He fixes his hat, turning to look straight ahead. "Sorry, it just slipped out." He smirks. I shake my head and laugh.

We continue our run.

"Thank you for agreeing to join me." Joost says as we come back to where we started.

"You are welcome. I had more fun than I expected." I say taking out a bottle of water.

"It was actually the first time I invited someone. I usually prefer to spend the morning alone." he says smoothing out the hem of his t-shirt.

"Oh." I look up at him. "An honor to be your first companion." I smile at him.

"Yeah so, head is cleared. I need to take a shower and head back to the studio." He takes off his hat to run a hand through his hair. It looks incredibly soft. I catch myself imagining how it would feel to touch.

I shake my head. The run did the opposite of clearing my head.

"When can I see you next?" he asks.

"I am not sure yet. I'm gonna be spending some time with Elliot."

"Sure." he smiles and pauses. "I have a concert coming up later this week. I can get you tickets, if you will find time for it."

"I will let you know." I return his smile.

"Hope you do." he stretches out his hand for me to shake like last time. I take it. His hand is firm to the touch and so pleasingly warm. After a moment we pull apart and go our separate ways.

I spent the last couple of days with Elliot. We played video games, went to the park for a picnic eating ice cream and laughing at each other's remarks about the movie we watched earlier. He truly is my best friend. I am so happy he turned out the way he did. I was worried me and Nicholas separating would affect him negatively, which I do notice some signs of, but me and Nicholas keep it friendly and keep him out of our differences.

As I get into my bed, I realise it has been radio silent between me and Joost after our run. To be honest he has been the first one to start the conversation the last time, I need to put in the effort too.

How have you been? I type.

No...too formal. I delete it.

Hi.

No, that's boring.

Any progress in the studio?

I hit send. No need to overthink it.

As I wait for the reply, I decide to check out his music. I put on my earphones and turn on the first song on Spotify.

My phone chimes as I listen to the songs and read the lyrics.

Joost Klein

Actually yes. We finally recorded the chorus.

Joost Klein

What is new with you?

I open the DMs.

Glad to hear that!! ❤️

Just living my milf life, you know how it is.

LMAO

I'm actually pleasantly surprised to hear from you. Started to think I scared you away last time.

You would have to do a lot more to scare me.

Oh yeah?

I was just listening to your songs. I have to say I really like them. I was bopping my head along.

Some really serious topics hidden behind fun melodies. Feels strange to say I am getting to know you through your songs.

You could hear them live, you know? My offer still stands. It's on Friday.

I pause to think about it. Elliot will be with his dad again, I could go technically. Do I go alone?

Ok. One ticket please. How much do I owe you?

He read the message, but is taking his time to reply. I look at the typing bubbles appear and disappear.

Don't be silly, I already said I will get it for you. Tickets are now secured.

Good Night, Ria. Talk to you tomorrow.

Good night, Joost.

Next chapter will be a long one!

[fandomworld9728]

Cinderella in Red

(@manicaali)

"Are you sure this is a good idea, sir?" Looking at herself in the mirror, Vaggie took in her appearance. Thanks to what she was told was called an Asmodeus Crystal, her skin and hair had taken on a darker color that she kind of liked. Maybe if she asked nicely, they let her keep the crystal?

"Why wouldn't it be Maggie-"

"Vaggie."

"Isn't that what I said?"

Sighing, Vaggie shake her head. He really needed to work on remembering names better. They had more pressing issues than her name though. "We are demons here on Earth to host a party. How could this end anyway but badly?"

"We are two fallen angels and a Nephilim holding a ball just for some fun. All the Sins and hell-borns have been warned to be on their best behavior. Everything will be fine. Besides, look how excited Charlie is."

Turning to see her girlfriend, excitedly talking to some of the demons in disguise with them while helping with the decorating, Vaggie couldn't keep the smile off her face. Dammit. Using their shared weakness against her. 

"Okay. But if things go bad-"

"It's on my hands. I know. Don't worry. I'll take care of any trouble that may come our way."

~

"Why must you insist upon dragging me to this party?"

"It's a ball not a party. It'll be fun! Besides, when do I ever get the chance to dress you up?"

Alastor adored Rosie; however, he could do without her constant need to make him socialize. Though, he had to admit she did good work. Dear Rosie, the sweet gal that is, kept his outfit in keeping with that he usually wore. The only difference was the nicer material and designs embordered on said material. Even an upgrade of his shoes of preference. He supposes he could humor her every now and then in her games of dress up.

Stopping him before he could stop down off the stool, Rosie replaced his beat up, old pair of glasses with a much nicer pair. "There. Wear those for at least tonight. You'll find they're quite special." 

"There you go with your cryptic words again. Do I get the pleasure of knowing what you mean by that, Rosie dear?"

"Not at all. Where's the fun in that? Now, take a look at yourself to appreciate my hard work. Thought, you do make it a little easier with that handsome face of yours."

"You can thank my mother for that fact." Taking in his appearance, Alastor was surprised at how... unrecognizable he looked. "You truly are magic. How do you do it?"

"Come now, Alastor. You know that's one of the things you never ask a lady."

Next >

[brainrot-of-a-thot]

One-shot of Tsubakino helping reader get ready to confess to Umemiya!! Like they help reader with makeup, hair, getting dressed, etc. And have a wholesome conversation where reader is like "why are you helping me don't u love Umemiya too/aren't I your competiton?" But Tsubaki just assuring them that isn't the case and whatnot!! Then reader confesses to Umemiya but he takes it the wrong way and think it's like family type love at first ope but eventually he'll understand when reader explains again though maybe a bit angrily at the end? Up to you!! Also sorry this got so lengthy omg if it's too much feel free to ignore!! I just wanted some platonic tsubakixreader fluff leading up to love interest umemiyaxreader

take it from another love-struck fool [hajime u.]

tsubaki gives you some much appreciated advice and the nudge you needed to finally truly confess to umemiya — if only it could penetrate his thick, family-oriented skull.

a/n: eeeee tsubaki my looove (platonic). I just wanna go shopping and have sleepovers with tsubaki and talk about boys while we do our makeup ;w;

c/w: afab!reader, fluff, not-so-unrequited love, language, clueless!ume, love confessions, very minor angst with fluffy ending, tsubaki is the bestest friend uwu, tsubaki nation pls rise!!

the first time you confessed to umemiya, it was an absolute disaster — but it wasn’t because he flat-out rejected you or anything.

after all, there was no possibility he could of rejected you — not when he didn’t even understand the depth of your confession.

when you’d finally plucked up the courage to say those three, incredibly difficult words, umemiya had simply blinked then beamed at you before exclaiming, “I love you, too! you’re my little sis!”

it wasn’t a rejection, but it stung just like one; and that was how you found yourself on the plush comforter of tsubaki’s bed days later, eyes achy but thankfully dry, spilling your heart out to him.

“a-and he just— he called me his little sister! it’s like it just — flew over his head, or something!” you huffed, trying desperately to bite back the fresh tears that threatened to gather in your eyes. tsubaki had already lined your eyes expertly with liner, and you were loathe to waste his meticulous work. tsubaki was rummaging through his vanity drawer, pulling out a myriad of items; some of them you didn’t really recognize, but you could deduce that they were used for hair styling.

“it probably did go over his head, doll.” tsubaki assented with a hum, hovering his fingers over the splay of styling wands atop his vanity.

you weren’t entirely sure why tsubaki had offered to do your hair and makeup — you knew it was a hobby he enjoyed, knew that he loved doing it for you, especially; heavens knows he’s done it many times in the past.

but all of those times were just for fun… this occasion was on a different level than the ones before it.

tsubaki was offering comfort and encouragement on levels that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend; he was so gentle when speaking to you and so careful when he applied your makeup — he sounded so genuine when he told you to keep your head up, as if he truly wanted to see you achieve your goal of successfully confessing to umemiya.

as if he wanted to see umemiya return your feelings.

you watched tsubaki with careful eyes as he finally grabbed the tool he was looking for — well, tools. he turned to face you and held up the two long styling wands with a smile.

“curled or straight?” tsubaki asked, and for a moment, you had trouble discerning what he meant — but then it caught up with you, and all you could do was blubber out, “whatever you think is best.”

tsubaki pouted and laid one of the wands back on the vanity.

“I think curls will frame your face a lot better,” tsubaki yipped. he pulled the comfy chair out from underneath the vanity and patted the bottom of it. “now come, sit.”

you robotically obeyed his gentle command and sat in front of the mirror. you scrutinized the layer of makeup tsubaki had applied to your face. it wasn’t anything super flashy, but everything he’d done enhanced each of your features in the best way possible. he truly was incredible at this. tsubaki hummed as he plugged the iron into the wall and set it to the side to heat up. his fingers were gentle when he ran them through your hair, massaging your scalp nicely.

“your hair is so pretty.” tsubaki cooed, that gentle smile on his painted lips. you smiled back through the mirror. guilt was still gnawing at your chest — you couldn’t help the way your skin crawled unpleasantly.

tsubaki loved umemiya — that much was obvious. he’d never tried to hide it, not even from umemiya himself. when you’d started to develop a crush on umemiya yourself, you’d felt so incredibly guilty for it.

you had sworn to keep it from tsubaki; but he was incredibly perceptive, and had pegged your crush on umemiya almost immediately. you truly expected him to feel sour or threatened by it, but he was so genuine when he beamed at you and offered encouragement.

everything tsubaki did seemed far too genuine to be an act… but you couldn’t help but feel a guilty nibble of doubt.

“hey, tsu…” you ventured gently, lacing your fingers nervously in your lap. tsubaki hummed in acknowledgment but kept his focus on your hair as he separated it into smaller sections.

“I… I really appreciate you doing this… but — why are you doing it?”

tsubaki’s hands stilled in your hair and his eyes shot to yours. you couldn’t quite decipher the look in them, but it didn’t appear to be angry; but you swore you could detect the faintest trace of hurt. but tsubaki blinked and it was gone, and his lips broke out into a soft smile.

“you’re meaning to ask why I don’t see you as a rival, yes? or why I’m perfectly okay with you being in love with umemiya, and even helping you out with getting him?”

your eyes widened fractionally and that guilt in your chest turned into a rabid beast. you broke eye contact with tsubaki and stared down at your hands. your throat felt too tight to speak, so you simply nodded.

“that’s simple, love.” tsubaki huffed with a small laugh. steam was rising from the iron now, and tsubaki plucked it up with expert fingers. he began to wrap a small section of your hair around the metal bar. “it’s because I want you both to be happy.”

you glanced back up. tsubaki still had that small, soft, genuine smile on his face as he worked your hair around the iron.

“I’ve been in love with umemiya for a long time,” tsubaki continued. “but I know he’d never return those feelings. and genuinely, I don’t need him to. I’m happy with the way things are between us.”

your heart constricted painfully at tsubaki’s words. you were just the same as him; hopelessly in love with umemiya. but the thought of umemiya never returning your feelings that way… it caused so much pain that it made you physically ill.

it must have shown on your face because tsubaki burst into a mini-fit of laughter.

“I’m sure it’s difficult to understand,” tsubaki affirmed, now finished with the left side of your head and moving on to the right side. “but it’s true. as long as I can love him, and see him happy, then I’m happy. after all, isn’t that all we want for the people we love? to see them happy and being true to themselves?”

you were struck silent. it made sense, it did; but you still couldn’t understand how tsubaki could stand the thought of seeing you with umemiya in the way he wanted to be — how he could remain happy seeing the one he loves loving someone else.

“I know you aren’t ever going to be able to fully understand it, and you’re always going to feel guilty in the back of your head. but that’s because you’re a good person.” tsubaki murmured, softly, running his fingers through the bouncy curls thrown over your shoulder. they looked amazing.

“but I want you to know that I want to see you happy, too. and I know that umemiya would make you as happy as you make him. and nothing would make me happier than seeing that.”

tsubaki meant it. you could feel just how truly and deeply he meant it. you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t cry and mess up his work, but…

“hey, no tears!” tsubaki barked playfully. “you don’t want mascara running down your face when you meet him, do you? speaking of which,” tsubaki had curled the last section of your hair and threw it over your shoulder. he placed the curling iron back on the vanity and used his hands to gently fluff your hair. “you’re all done! now,”

tsubaki waltzed to your side and reached down to cup one large hand over your wrist. you looked up at him and he beamed down at you.

“let’s go get your man.”

it had taken a bit of convincing, but tsubaki had successfully managed to get you into a flower-patterned, light yellow sundress and planted you in front of pothos thirty minutes after finishing your look.

you could see umemiya sitting alone at the back booth, a gentle smile on his face as he gazed out of the window beside him. your heart was fluttering in your chest and you swore your stomach was trying to claw at itself.

“be assertive,” tsubaki had insisted before he left. “word it in a way that leaves no doubt towards how you mean it. that’s what it’ll take to get through his thick skull.”

be assertive? how on earth were you supposed to do that?

you shook away your doubt and took a deep, stabilizing breath. you blew it out from between painted lips and reached forward to grip the knob, then opened the door as casually as you could.

pothos was empty save for kotoha behind the counter — she noticed you immediately and shot you a thumbs up, causing you to blush profusely. at least it was only kotoha here; you weren’t sure if you would be able to confess to umemiya if someone like hiragi or sakura were there.

umemiya, thankfully, hadn’t noticed you yet; but he was quick to do so when you had made it half-way to the booth. surprise painted his features for a second before they melted into a beaming smile.

“hey!” he greeted when you made it to the booth and slid into the seat across from him. your stomach was officially doing somersaults in your body, and you had a hard time maintaining eye contact with him. “tsubaki asked me to come here, so I thought he’d be here, but… I mean, don’t get me wrong! it’s super nice to see you here, but is tsubaki okay?”

you swallowed and willed your cheeks to cool down.

“uhm, yes, tsubaki’s fine—”

“oh, that’s good to hear! so, why isn’t he here? or is he just running late?”

a twinge of irritation rocked your unsettled, nervous gut. this was already incredibly nerve wracking, and if umemiya didn’t stop chattering, you’d lose any semblance of confidence you still had.

“actually, uh, tsubaki asked you here to meet me.”

umemiya’s blue eyes took on a shade of surprise and confusion, and fuck, why were they so pretty? this was starting to become very difficult. oh, no, what if you choked up?

“you… wanted to meet me? why didn’t you just ask me yourself?”

because all of my systems are nervous and I have the biggest crush on you, you thought bitterly, but forced yourself to remain physically calm.

“I, uhm… I wanted to t-talk to you.” you stuttered out, looking down at the table. shit, your throat was getting tight. you needed to hurry and get it out before you shut down or clammed up.

“oh, well, is everything okay—”

“please just stay quiet for a bit,” you rushed out, and distantly, you knew your wording was a bit rude, but you couldn’t have umemiya interrupting you during this. if he did, you’d most certainly choke.

you sucked in a shaky breath and kept your eyes downcast as you started, hesitantly, “the other day… I, uh, I t-told you that I loved you but… I don’t think you understood what I meant.” your eyes were feeling very warm; almost as warm as your cheeks. damn it, you couldn’t stop now.

“I guess maybe I’m to blame for that.” be assertive. “I didn’t word it the right way. umemiya, I… uhm… I’m—”

be assertive.

gathering up every ounce of courage you could scrounge, you lifted your head and met his eyes head on — blue clashed with your own, and umemiya’s face was attentive, and maybe even eager; you felt a bit more confident from that.

“I’m in love with you, umemiya.”

the silence that followed felt like it stretched on for centuries — umemiya stared at you, and you stared back. it was as if everything else had melted away, and your body was vibrating with multiple sensations that you couldn’t even put a name to. nerves, anxiety, dizziness, oh god, why wasn’t he saying anything? was this just some big mistake? what if he didn’t even respond back, or worse, what if he rejected you—

light, warm, bubbly laughter — umemiya was laughing. your heart dropped in your chest and tears pricked at your eyes; you didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t help the way this reaction hurt. it hadn’t even been one you’d considered a possibility. all you could do was stare at the man as his laughter faded slowly into small chuckles. your entire body was burning, you needed to get away—

“you know, I’m really glad you decided to confess here.” umemiya said, halting your brain and knocking you into a state of confusion. his pretty eyes met yours, and they looked so soft — warm, like a cloudless summer sky.

“I truly can’t think of a better place for a first date. that is, if you’re up for turning this into an impromptu first date?”

at first, you couldn’t quite digest umemiya’s words. a… date?

a date.

a date?!

you nearly choked on your own spit; your heart had abandoned its journey to your stomach in favor of leaping into your throat. umemiya was staring at you, softly and patiently, eyes clouded with something that you couldn’t recognize.

“a… date?” you echoed back, and umemiya nodded.

“a date.” umemiya confirmed before leaning back in his seat. “I mean, I know it’s not how I would have done it — if it were up to me I would shown up at your door with flowers and asked you myself, but… this could work too. if you want it to.”

you couldn’t breathe — you were happy, you were nervous, you were full of disbelief; was umemiya being serious?

his eyes said yes. you swallowed thickly and smiled shyly before nodding. umemiya brightened significantly and gestured to kotoha.

“how about something special, kotoha? it’s our first date so bring us something yummy!”

truthfully, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any pity for the trouble umemiya was suddenly stacking onto poor kotoha. you were too lost in your own world, happy and warm and fuzzy. you were officially on a date with umemiya — sure, it happened pretty fast and you were about ninety percent confident this was some fever dream you’d conjured up, and you weren’t actually inside pothos but rather outside of it still watching umemiya —

but, if you pinched yourself and still found yourself in this booth, you’d call tsubaki later to thank her.

I’m not completely sure how I feel about this one babes. I swear I redrafted it at least three times. I just hope it’s good enough urghh

[majaloveschris]

I've been wanting to make this post for such a long time now, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to post it and take the heat for it, but here we go.

I've been on Tumblr for 2 years now and have been a fan for way more than that. Being here means that I saw the fandom being ruined and people leaving from the very front seat. I never blamed people for leaving; on the contrary, I understood them. I think whenever you feel like you can't support someone and you feel like you don't like or respect them anymore, the best thing you can do is to leave. It's the best for you and for your mental health, and why would you keep talking and following someone you dislike? 

A lot of people stayed, though, and a lot of them not for the best reasons. 

I understand why we are all mad at Chris and why this whole situation is really disappointing. I agree that she and her friends are not good people. I agree that if he is truly married to her, he is just like them. I agree that we need to hold people accountable. I agree with calling people out. I, however, don't agree with the way some people do it. 

Bodyshaming, calling people by different names; It's not my style, and to be honest, seeing it bothers and triggers me. His or her hairline has nothing to do with their behavior. And neither is the size of their foreheads. It's okay to call people out because of the things they've said and done, but why do we need to body shame them? Nobody is perfect, and I'm sure we all have our own things we are insecure about. 

I think the reason we call out people who are involved is really important and would make a much bigger impact if we didn't involve their appearances, which has nothing to do with what we want to spread whatsoever. Who the fuck cares if he wears a wig? It's not his fault if he is balding, and it's not something he can do much against. I'm sure he is trying his best.  Same goes with her forehead. I don't like her, but my sister has a bigger forehead too, and I know how much she was bullied in school because of it. 

If you hate Chris so much that you have no hope in him, you can only body-shame him, and you think he is a terrible human being, then I don't understand what you are doing here. 

[sulky-cabbage]

I was wondering About the reason gege chose to make megumi trapped inside of sukuna, and got some ideas...

don't take this super seriously it's just for fun & sorry if my English sucks.

So I'm assuming sukuna has megumi's memories from when he was possessing his body, so he thinks megumi was abandoned by his parents (because that's what megumi thinks), and knows that gojo took him in and is almost a parental figure...

BUT GUYS SUKUNA SAID HE WAS A WRETCHED CHILD!! HE WAS UNLOVED!!

He's said this while in Megumi's body btw.

(He killed ate his brother in the womb, and possibly killed his mother too? We need that backstory ASAP)

you could say he was born cursed, he killed those closest to him just by being born.

He could gain respect and devotion, and fear, and all that because of his strength, but not true love.

we know yoruzu loved him, but he didn't reciprocate nor did he take her seriously, because he doesn't see her as an equal, she doesn't get him, he doesn't connect with her.

She's like all the other people that love him and revere him for his power.

(*cough* like Uraume *cough*)

because those below him don't understand.

He can't find love beacuse he can't find an equal.

he's one of a kind.

(Reminds me of that video of the last kauai bird singing to a female that will never respond because he's the last of his kind, it's actually so sad..)

So he reincarnated as a curse!!

and kashimo called him out on this, why did you come back?? didn't you die?? Are you perhaps looking for something??

And him saying love is worthless right after killing gojo too, like... this was his chance to find love but it didn't work out 😢

If he truly didn't care about it what was this???

He incarnated in the same era that satoru was born, what are the odds??

He was ruminating yorozu's words in his head every time he sees gojo, he can't help but think of love when he sees him, because he's the strongest person he fought, the closest to actually reach him.

But when even gojo couldn't keep up, he gave up for real, All this talk about not needing love, he's saying this because love is the thing he can't have, so he's like fuck love who needs it? its worthless i have everything I need.

He doesn't want to feel helpless, he's like: who said I even wanted love in the first place?? Baka!! (Tsunkuna is very real)

Doesn't mean he's gonna just forget about gojo though, what he felt during the fight with gojo was incomparable with anything he ever felt.

And I would say he needed to lose gojo to realize this..

Like... what is this...Sukuna???

He hasn't been the same since he killed Gojo I'M TELLING YOU!!

He's starting to question himself after centuries!!

What changed?? Huh Sukuna????

So...back to megumi

When gojo hugged him in the fight, we were wondering if he's hugging megumi or sukuna..

I think the point is that HE'S HUGGING THEM BOTH!!!

(He's also doing it to avoid getting cut off by sukuna, pun intended)

Gojo hugging Sukuna is the equivalent of hugging a cat that keeps scratching you lol.

And when sukuna did the same and bypassed gojo's infinity [which only sukuna managed to do by the way] the result was gojo's death, like?? Sukuna really be killing everything he touches huh... this and his poor baby brother.

We know one of Satoru's main goals is that he doesn't want anyone to feel lonely..

THAT INCLUDES SUKUNA TOO!!!

And he felt like he faild to do that!! He couldn't keep up, once sukuna reached him and bypassed his infinity he immediately died.

I guess the parallelism between sukuna and megumi is being symbolized by megumi looking all depressed and lonely inside of sukuna, they're the same, and satoru tried to save both.

The fact that megumi's name means blessing, and he's inside sukuna the king of curses...

I guess it was implied megumi was a blessing to gojo in that scene when he found him.

And he asked him to become stronger to keep up with him..

And he did!! But as a vessel of sukuna..

Gege what does that mean..

is Love the strongest curse? Or is it a blessing?👀

Gege Are you even doing this on purpose??

[browneyedartist01]

My thoughts during the final hour of acomaf:

(Bare in mind that I notched up the speed to 1.5 then 1.75, and these thoughts are not in order)

-"You don't need proof that it works, I'm proof that it works-"

Weren't you made by high lords?

-"I will destroy your court."

And I will hate you. More so than I already do

-"He held out his hand like I was some pet."

"Come home."

My thoughts:

"Come home with me."

"Who are you?"

"The man whose gonna marry you, I'm Orpheus."

"Who am I?"

"Eurydice, *laughs* the girl who makes me wanna sing, the women I'm marrying."

-Why dose the evil man sounds like a radio announcer?

-Lucian really setting the bar higher already in how to care for your mate, as expected. (Go little Rock star)

-He broke through the bounds that a high lord couldn't break through just to go to her?!?!

-And he gave her his coat to cover her??

-"There were different kinds of torture I realized, there was ones I went through, what Rhys went through and then this."

Yeah, now you know how Tamlin felt utm.

- Did Nesta just give the evil king the middle finger? Ew, sarah cringe stop it.

-Cassian just keep dying sweetie, don't touch Nesta.

-Nesta be nice to your future brother in law.

- Freye unlocked a new power, somehow.

-Cheesy, this is all so cheesy.

- "his green eyes met mine, the sorrow and tenderness in them was the most hideous thing I've ever seen."

Wow, ok...

-Tamlin acting like Ryhsand though with Tamlin it's justified/understandable

- *me counting down the final 22 minutes while freye is dying*

-"I nerely gagged on his scent."

Freye darling, I get your upset about his deal with evil king. But he literally tried to save your sisters, stop being so dramatic.

- "my family."

It's been 3 months girly.

- "Tamlin ignored Lucian, so I did too."

Sums up Freye and Lucain's friendship

-Of course all the queens' want is eternal youth,

- Lucian naturally being the smartest one in the room.

-Noooo, not Ryhsand pov. 😭 this better not be the last 17 minutes.

-Holy crap, I just realized how similar this ending is to season 2 of lore olympus ending.

-Don't worry, the bat boys plot armor is thick. Sarah loves you monsters too much.

-Mor don't rip out the arrow it will only make it worse.

-Ryhsand please think, do you really think Tamlin would actually partner with evil king? He didn't even trust evil fae women when she first appeared, what makes you think he would actually help him beyond getting freye back?

-"she is my mate, my wife, the high lady of the night court."

BANG, CRASH A LIGHTING BLAST! (no joke there was thunder after he said this in the dramatized version)

I have 2 thoughts on this one:

1. There was a fan theory during the court trial in lore olympus (persephone was on trail for mass murder, long story) where hades and persephone got married before the trail started because at one point he called her his wife. This wasn't the case because she was 20 and he was in his 2000 (aka 40's) Idk if Rachel was a fan of acotar and wanted to steal from it (since acomaf was released in 2016 and the trial was released in 2020) but because people guessed it she dropped it. Idk that's just a my own theory.

2. How can she be the high lady when the mother is the one to give out titles? Do you realize what you just start Ryhsand? This could lead to more war against the more religious courts, this could lead to the end of the night court if the mother finds out... oh wait, this is acotar. Not real high fantasy, there's no real religious world building.

-"I've forgotten how quiet it was here, how small, how empty"

You do this every time freye, anytime your some where "better" you always just stick your noise up at your old home.

-Freye acting high and mighty towards Tamlin as if she wouldn't had praised Ryhsand for doing the same thing.

- Lucian, you are truly the best character.

-"My sister mate, the mother did indeed seem to have a sense of humor."

What do you mean? He would be a great mate. But then again you're suffering because of it...which makes it so much better.

- "as if he could do that to anyone."

But- but he did freye. And tbh I think he would have done worse to you if he deemed it necessary.

-Freye is really giving evil queen vibes. I wish I could enjoy it, but I know sarah is going to make her the "hero"

And that's it, Thank Saints.

[fiepige]

Made some more changes to one of my Venom!Hobie concepts (yeah I have several at this point- it's the one with the cat-symbiote lol) and decided that I'm gonna make them a Hobie-variant instead since I've made too many changes to him (both due to his origins- which inevitably would change his behavior and world view + I've made a few changes to his looks as well) to still view him as the same Hobie as the one from atsv.

So now he's a different version of Hobie instead.

(Shout out to @the-cat-and-the-birdie for sharing their version of a Hobie variant to open my eyes to the concept!)

Idk if this version of Venom!Hobie counts as a spidersona or an oc since he's based on a character from the movie?? Or is this called something else? Please lemme know I'm new to this stuff ^^'

[bloodbathfortwo]

Nigel and Alex have their rare moments of intimacy behind closed doors. Lingering touches, and blazing warmth.

[crystalleoi]

5C

[dngrcpckwithmurdericing]

Having a serious George Michael moment at two am.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Perhaps the funniest League of Legends character interaction that's also highly plausible in-universe, thematically appropriate and emotionally charged is Rell and Veigar teaming up.

They’re both extremely magically strong and skilled. Rell controls metal, a product of the earth from which she can directly rip ore. Veigar draws his celestial magic from the stars.

They both have dark, tragic backstories: because of their magical talent, they were taken into custody by powerful, corrupt Noxian authorities, isolated, abused and forced to use their magic harmfully for a long time, at least relative to their respective lives. This traumatized and broke them so much that they now see inflicting pain as the only thing they’re good at, even capable of. They have no friends. They've never known or have forgotten what it feels like to be loved, joyful or carefree. All they were left with once free was so much guilt and grief and so much power. From that, they have forged new identities - roles to play - built around singular, combative ambitions that they cannot imagine lives or futures beyond. Rell identifies as a gritty, edgy antihero, having noble intentions but using brutal, destructive and downright gruesome methods. Veigar identifies as a villain, but is good at heart despite not comprehending this himself.

They’re both currently roaming around the Noxian countryside in order to find and defeat as many powerful, corrupt Noxian authorities who mistreat people as they can. Rell does this to make the guilty pay for their crimes and liberate and protect the oppressed. Veigar does it to replace the authority and prove that his evil is greater and cooler than theirs, but in practice doesn’t really bother hurting anyone innocent and just ends up making the guilty pay for their crimes and liberating and protecting the oppressed.

They’re both connected to Mordekaiser, and would be primary enemies of him holding personal grudges if his plot about trying to dominate Runeterra is ever developed. Rell was such an important project for the Black Rose because they hoped that she would be able to defeat Mordekaiser. He embodies everything she stands against. Mordekaiser was Veigar’s captor and abuser, responsible for who he is today. Rell can manipulate metal; Veigar wields incredible cosmic magic; and Mordekaiser is a magical suit of armour, so if anyone can finish him off, it’s these two working together.

Rell is practical, pragmatic, cynical and consumed by bloodthirsty, vengeful rage. Veigar clings to and imitates an immature ideal of Villainy, fashioning his outfit after Mordekaiser’s stereotypical fantasy evil overlord aesthetic, his behaviour after all the most theatrical tropes that archetype can be associated with and having very dramatic and flashy magic, but inwardly lacks the cruelty (not to mention dignity) to back that presentation up.

They both want the Noxian people to respect them as a threat. Rell has wanted posters and become widely feared by the elite army less than a year since her escape. Veigar has been ‘conquering’ for centuries and is still not taken seriously.

Their respective magic colours are yellow and purple, and the rest of both of their colour palettes is grey, silver and black.

Everything about Rell is played completely straight. Almost everything about Veigar is played for comedy.

Rell could come across a village that Veigar has seized and accidentally benefitted, like Boleham in his story on the website, and try to challenge him. Or they could both arrive to kill the same tyrannical warlord at the same time. She realizes that he is a) really bad at being bad, b) just a silly little guy and c) an extremely useful asset to her quest.

So she directs him at the Black Rose and they go and utterly fuck Noxis up while helping the downtrodden. There's so much comedy to get out of their contrasting personalities and perspectives. Rell always acts like the protagonist of a grim, action-packed young adult dystopian series and Veigar is standing right next to her emanating campy children's cartoon villain energy; they both think the story is a different genre and the acting and tone should reflect that. This premise is hysterical with the proper execution.

But it isn't just funny! They can genuinely bond and learn, or in Veigar's case remember, what loving and being loved is, and begin to process their trauma and help each other cope with their C-PTSD and be kinder to themselves and have fun and become fulfilled. And then kill Mordekaiser, whose return is one of the subplots. And then live happy, safe, peaceful lives together, because they were never meant for all this violence.

Other subplots besides Mordekaiser include LeBlanc, Rell's mother and the Black Rose's operations; the wider Noxian politics they tie into; Samirah hunting Rell; Annie also wandering around Noxis causing trouble and eventually getting adopted by Rell as a little sister (they deserve it); maybe the story of a Yordle who knew Veigar before and thus can supply some of his backstory that he's forgotten, a 'normal Yordle' foil to him; and generally lots of Noxian and Yordle worldbuilding and lore.

While I'm talking about Veigar, here are my ideas for a redesign of him, because his design is... not that great:

As yordles are generally animalistic or at least furry, he strongly resembles a black cat, with gold eyes with slit pupils and a dark purple nose. Black cats are associated with the supernatural, magical arts and misfortune, they're bad omens to some, but they're also fluffy little babies. He is covered in fur. You want to scratch his checks. You want to kiss his little forehead. He's so adorable and he hates it. His large pointy ears, visible under the brim of his hat, move to signal his emotions for more expressive animation. They both have notches, which help him look pitiable and allude to his past as a prisoner and victim of abuse. He has big 'weathered street cat hissing and growling at you when you try to pet it because it's reflexively afraid of people and shows that through aggression' energy.

@ohnoitstbskyen's idea in his "What's the deal with Veigar?" video that Veigar's face (his cute kitty face!) is never fully in the shadow of his hat despite him trying to look mysterious and ominous is brilliant. He’s very lively, since he acts like a classic cartoon villain who’s so excited and gleeful about being evil, so he has a habit of jostling his hat or lifting his head to reveal his whole face and then hastily pulling the hat back down.

His robe no longer has the spiked metal hem and is of a soft, loose, flowing fabric. It’s dark indigo with silver sparkles all over it like he’s wearing the night sky, in homage to the stars he draws his power from. Except the beautiful pattern is interrupted and partly obscured by a leather belt - not spiked and black, a bolder and more ‘evil’ colour than brown and a Noxian colour - with a tasteless spiky silver buckle that clashes with the stars. I love what TB Skyen said about the armour and spikes working best as a parody of Mordekaiser’s aesthetic, so I want those aspects to look tacked on and out of place. To feel wrong. Inadvertently on Veigar’s part, but deliberately in a meta sense. Between the robe, his big purple wizard hat matching his nose that also makes his body look smaller and cuter and the black cat associations, you’ve got a perfectly good yordle celestial mage design; but the influence of Mordekaiser is intruding on it, corrupting it, even. That is the clear conflict of this design. While the robe is comfortable, the armour doesn’t appear to be. This impression is helped by it all being at least a little oversized, because Noxian armour doesn’t come in yordle size and therefore Veigar has cobbled his together out of scraps he scavenged (I mean, he STOLE, how wicked) and he isn’t really a great blacksmith. His boots aren’t clown shoes or anything, but they’re big enough that his attempt at an imposing villainous stride is awkwardly clunky. They could have black leather straps on them to hold them tighter than their metal fasteners will allow. His spiked pauldrons were cut out of human ones and still jut out too much, one of them having an irregular shape that gives him a dash of Noxian asymmetry and marks him further as a flawed imitation of a fantasy supervillain. The message that he’s incompetent at something and did it anyway out of passion, perhaps not even realizing his mistakes or at least too proud to acknowledge them, makes him come across as comedic and yet an endearingly earnest, hardworking underdog, and adds to the surprise of his genuine incredible cosmic power - he couldn’t learn to smith properly before forging his own armour, but he can command the energy of the stars to smite you? Yeah. That’s Veigar. There’s one silver ring around the base of his hat that has five spikes on it, thick, long and evenly positioned so that from above, they form a star shape. Specifically, an inverted star with one spike pointing directly forward. Symbolism! His belt buckle could also be an inverted star to establish that as a motif of his; it’s spiky, but more personal and iconic than just spikes themselves.

Moving onto Rell... she has her sigils. I don't know why she doesn't in her model or artwork, they're such a crucial part of her character design! Her biography and short story both bring them up. There are even bare sections of her arms, which would only make sense if her sigils were visible in them because it's impractical and she's so averse to vulnerability, but the sigils are missing? What? Why, Riot? So yeah, in my redesign she has sigils right down both her arms. A few more recent ones are on her back (symbolic of her betrayal by her family, the Black Rose and the government). They're always hidden, even in her lighter armour on horseback, as she's deeply uncomfortable around the concept of being exposed and seeing them herself. We and Veigar only see them in dramatic character exploration scenes when a) she feels safe enough to take her armour off, b) she needs to due to injury or to hide her identity or c) someone else damages or removes her armour. Taking TB Skyen's advice again, her outer armour and therefore horse are spikier and less polished and regular, products of her undiluted heartbroken rage in the moment she destroyed the academy. They're highly distinctive, almost organic-feeling and definitely don't look like the work of a smith.

[celestial-sapphicss]

.

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

Max is so hard for me to pin down for no reason. He has too much nuance He is my darling recovering cynic

[seelestia]

✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )

#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }

#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.

#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.

you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.

and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?

(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)

but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.

(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.

time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?

time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.

there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.

“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.

there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.

“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.

“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”

his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.

you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!

every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”

(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)

will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.

(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)

the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.

if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.

(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)

veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.

mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”

at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.

looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.

you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.

a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.

(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)

veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”

oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.

you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.

“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.

“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.

(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)

“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.

“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”

“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”

(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)

“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”

“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.

“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.

(your heart skips a beat.)

will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.

how mysterious.

but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?

your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.

pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.

(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)

the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.

fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.

(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)

if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.

as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?

(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”

sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.

“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”

you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.

he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”

or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.

(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)

“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”

“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.

most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.

“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”

you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?

(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)

will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?

after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?

but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.

(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)

dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”

(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)

sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.

(it remains persistently.)

when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.

when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.

(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.

but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”

you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”

he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.

“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.

“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.

“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.

dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.

“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.

(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)

“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”

“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.

“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.

(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡