#National Ballpoint Pen Day

[murderousink23]

06/10/2023 is National Ballpoint Pen Day 🖊🇺🇲, National Black Cow Day 🇺🇲, National Herbs and Spices Day 🇺🇲, National Iced Tea Day 🇺🇲, National Rosé Day 🇺🇲, National Egg Roll Day 🇺🇲, World Gin Day 🇬🇧, Queen's Birthday 👸🇬🇧

[subby-sab]

Today is 10th of June.

Today is National Iced Tea Day, National Bae Day, National Ballpoint Pen Day, National Black Cow Day.

[dangus-doo]

I draw a pen doodle every day until I forget

Day 272: Raven (Teen Titans)

Happy Woman’s Day! I hope you all woman-ed your hearts out!

I wanted to draw a girl today, and I saw a clip of teen titans on my YouTube feed, so Raven! I didn’t really like Raven much as a kid. I could never put together why she could have all these cool powers, and a cool house, and good friends, and still be so glum and irritated all the time. Then I grew up and realized that is exactly how I feel with life all the time. And now she’s my favorite.

[mellon1998]

Carnation — Inktober 2022 Day 16

Today's national flower is for Monaco 🇲🇨

(I'm strictly working in ballpoint pen, any color is the paper)

[jewish-sideblog]

At the end of the day, we did all we could. We suffered in diaspora for millennia. We walked their high roads and we died when we reached their destinations. We kept to ourselves, we kept out of their way. We joined their armies and fought their senseless wars. We paid taxes to fund roads we couldn't use and public services we couldn't access. We invented their vaccines and their ballpoint pens and their pacemakers and their nuclear weapons. We tried living as a peaceful, perfect minority in their world. We were good. We did everything they asked of us. They killed us anyway. They hated us anyway.

They say they hate us now because we have our own nation. We have our own taxes that fund our own roads and our own public services. We invent our own navigation apps and firewalls and missile defence systems and nuclear bombs. We have our own armies and our own senseless wars. They say they hate us now because we have our own nation. But they hated us before. They will always hate us, no matter what we do. We just chose not to be their perfect victims any longer.

[kivino]

Platonic!Task Force 141 x Eastern European!Reader

Word Counter – ~1.9k

Summary – a compilation of headcanons about how reader’s Eastern European background would affect interactions with Task Force 141 during an undercover mission together.

Tags/Warnings – Gn!reader, Eastern European!reader (obviously), Platonic!TF141, fluff, mostly.

A/n – RUSSIANS DNI (this is a personal boundary, so I ask you to respect it, if you don’t like it just scroll past this post). Very self-indulgent. Just showing more love to my fellow Eastern European readers. Since it is mostly based on my own experience growing up as a Ukrainian, I’m sorry if certain things don’t resonate with you! This whole thing was made for fun and fun only.

So, let’s assume our beloved Task Force needs to go undercover to get some information on Makarov and his merry band of goons. Obviously, they can’t do it without at least one team member, who is familiar with the way of living in Eastern Europe. So, naturally, Laswell introduces you to them – born and raised there, ready to help them and stop your sworn enemy from escalating an already pretty shitty situation.

“So, allow me to introduce your new team member for the duration of this mission” Laswell nods to the door when you walk in, saying your name and callsign, already catching some looks full of curiosity from Task Force 141.

First thing they noticed about you? Resting bitch face for days. Who needs a mask when you have a death stare that will give the heebie-jeebies to most if not all of your teammates? However, they feel even more taken aback when you suddenly greet them with a warm, welcoming smile and a firm handshake, not a trace of that sour expression on your face.

One would think that you’d spend hours preparing four of them for the mission by teaching them language, helping to memorize names and faces of contacts, Makarov’s trusted allies, and potential targets. Naturally, you did your job, but those precious hours were also spent with you standing next to a whiteboard, ranting about the politics and societal issues of your country, explaining certain national jokes, and teaching them swear words or poetry you studied at school. But hey, they’re not complaining (maybe a little).  

They were skeptical about this whole deal at first. However, there was a shared understanding between the four of them that they needed to do whatever it took to stop the spreading of Makarov’s influence and diminish his resources in other countries. With time, however, they’ve found things that made their life in a completely new environment a bit more enjoyable and interesting.

Soap would pick up on your native language the fastest out of the Task Force. Under all these jokes and goofiness Johnny’s a smart guy, inquisitive as hell too, which makes a pretty good mix. He’d try to write down how you pronounce things in his sketchbook, dedicating pages upon pages to making a small vocabulary of what you say, searching up the translations of words any chance he gets. Convinces himself that it just helps him to get more into his new way of life, and not at all because he likes seeing you all excited when he slips a word in your language somewhere in the conversation.

“So how do you say it?” he points to the sentence, messily scribbled on the page with the ballpoint pen he slipped from Gaz. There is a slight frown between your brows – the word looks unfamiliar, more like gibberish than something in your language. You can practically feel the gears in your head screech and come to a halt as you drill Soap’s handwriting with your eyes.

“Oh, wait. You made a mistake here. No wonder I have no idea what this is.” You quickly take the pen and scratch the right version of the word on the paper, while Johnny chuckles at your brutal honesty. He doesn’t say anything though. Some time passes and you’re already correcting other words he wrote down, explaining the right way to say them. And you can feel a pleasant warmth spread in your chest when you can see Soap’s utmost attention directed at you.

Johnny can’t help but feel that moments like these were somewhat of a way to bond for you two. He’d jokingly offer to give you some Scottish classes each time you playfully flick him on the forehead for a word he pronounced wrong. He never expected you to take him up on the offer until the five of you got stuck in a countryside safehouse and essentially had nothing to do while waiting.

On the topic of Eastern European countryside, Price is not an old man by any measure, man’s not even forty yet, but it would grow so massively on him that it’s concerning. When you finally got a good, reliable contact that gave you some useful information you had to lay low for some time in a safe house not far from one of many Makarov’s places where the next weapon deal would be held. And while you waited several days for his people to show up there, obviously almost all of you were bored out of your minds. Not Price though. The man went exploring. Of course, taking you with him (he only wanted company on his small journey through the cozy countryside, don’t blame him).

Soon enough, during your walk you two come across the abundance of berry bushes and fruit trees everywhere, and while you pick something to munch on from them constantly, Price only scolds you. You smirk in response, giving him a handful of ripe mulberries, your lips and fingers now a dark red color from the juice.  

“It’s going to rot if nobody eats it. People who plant these trees would rather someone enjoy them instead of fruits just falling on the ground, getting squished, and going to waste.” And Price takes note of that with a small smile. Soon enough the two of you find a spring the whole village uses, a willow standing tall beside it, providing shade for you two to rest, chat a bit, and cool yourself off with fresh water. The fact that there are not many people around also doesn’t miss him. It’s quiet and peaceful, Price finally feels like he has room to breathe with his whole chest.

“You know, I could get used to a life like this.” Price finally mutters, enjoying your simple, comforting presence, walking along the river shore, and hearing the distant sounds of a train passing through the village. You look at him with understanding in your eyes, as you see the tension in his shoulders finally slipping away. Your captain relaxes, which is a pleasant change of pace from the frown on his face that you got used to.  

All five of you had to live in the same apartment in an old panel building closer to the edge of town. Not the best place to live, but a good opportunity to blend in with the locals and find leads on Makarov’s criminal “friends”. More than once you’ve found yourself sitting together with Ghost on the balcony that creaked with each blow of the wind, in complete silence while he was smoking some cheap cigarettes that smelled more like burnt paper instead of tobacco.

“Can I join you?” Your voice is a quiet rasp, as you lean against the doorway, pushing the mosquito netting to the side. You couldn’t sleep. Not when the whole world will go down the drain if you fail your mission. Not when it’s been a month already and it felt like you were still right where you started.

“Knock yourself out” the man shrugs, patting the stool near him. You shuffle your bare feet on the newspapers that were laid out on the balcony floor, plopping down on the seat, your eyes immediately getting glued to the view, enjoying the breeze that seeped through the open window. You two sit in silence for so long, but it doesn’t feel awkward, quite on the contrary – weirdly calming and serene.

After that night these nightly smoke breaks became a sort of tradition for you two, a way to wind down after a long day. Ghost would nod towards the balcony, a silent invitation reserved only for you. Regardless of whether you’re a smoker or not, occasionally he would offer you a cigarette from his pack or a hit from the lit one. A gesture of camaraderie.

“Thought you’d be more talkative.” Ghost’s voice sounds gruff after the whole day working your asses off just to discover the lead that you had was absolute bullshit.

“And I thought you weren’t a type for small talk.” You grumble in return, just as annoyed about coming back to this dingy apartment with nothing.

“That I am” He lets out a low chuckle, flicking his cigarette into an ashtray in his hand, avoiding eye contact with you.  

Kyle found himself liking your cooking above everything else. The way he would eat anything thrown together in a hurry by you was quite flattering. So soon enough you offered to teach him how to make some of your favorite national dishes, and he couldn’t say no to your offer. So, you decided to start easy – picking out the fresh ingredients. And where do you go to do that? Not a grocery store, no way in hell. The market filled with tons of people is the place you need. A lot cheaper than your usual supermarket too.

The number of times you got discounts for fruits and vegetables on the market from older women just for Gaz’s pretty eyes was insane. He would just blink at you with confusion written all over his face anytime you glanced at him with that smile and refused to explain why you spent a lot less money than expected on the fresh vegetables. At some point, Gaz even questioned his ability to count before you told him just not to worry about it since you got a “very special bargain”. And, obviously, Kyle was the one carrying the plastic bags filled to the brim with fresh produce.  

“You know, your version of the dish is not half-bad,” You say, licking the spoon and giving Gaz a wide smile, which he immediately returns to you tenfold. Spending time like this with him was a pleasure. Each minute spent together made you loathe even thinking about the time when you’d have to part ways and you won’t be able to teach him your cultural cuisine like this anymore.

“Well, I have a great teacher to thank for that.” Gaz gives you a charming smile, so glad to finally have a distraction from the constant looming presence of Makarov in his thoughts. Right this moment he caught himself thinking that he was happy they had you here with them. It would be a lot harder if not for you supporting and guiding them through everything. He felt…thankful.

You’d bring the whole Task Force to different cafes that serve your country's most famous dishes, but Kyle would be the one to enjoy these outings the most, barely raising his eyes from the plate to participate in the conversation.

“Wow, are you in a hurry or something? The food won’t run away from you.” You chuckle, while Kyle ignores the odd saying coming from you and continues to eat with the huge appetite he had ever since this undercover mission started.

However, nothing lasts forever, so after finishing their business with you, getting all the information they needed, and “cleaning up the mess” Task Force 141 bids you farewell, returning to their usual duties. Saying goodbye is never easy, even if you knew each other just for several months you still got attached to them, just like they grew very fond of you (as much as some of them hated to admit that). But hey, they promised to visit you after they finish up with Makarov. They promised. And the four of them keep the promises they make.

taglist - @mockerycrow @stridersdiner

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request!

[sssammich]

collateral ch6

HELLO i'm posting this purely for the bit in that it's st. patrick's day and therefore it's kmcg's day. sorry to the one veto vote in my unserious poll.

here's the chapter in ao3

here's the rest on tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

thx for reading see u next time

---

It’s only Kara’s third week on the job at CatCo. It’s a definite upgrade from her job writing articles for the Midvale Messenger, but the transition from small town to big city living has needed a little learning curve. She’s barely gotten used to her schedule, let alone the bus route to and from her apartment when a really big assignment falls on her lap that changes her entire life. 

She looks up, pushing her glasses back on her face when she finds Snapper’s scowling face in front of her. 

“Come with me.”  

She furrows her brows, yet before she has time to ask him anything, he’s already walking away. She scrambles to her feet and rushes after her boss paying little attention to the stares coming from those around the office. She eventually gets her answer when they end up in his office.

“Sir, what—” 

“Can you explain to me why Lena Luthor requested you specifically to write about the launch of their new tech project?” 

Kara’s head remains empty as she quickly rifles through her mind for some flash of recognition to that name. She doesn’t know a Lena Luthor nor does she even cover the tech beat. 

“Snapper, sir, this might be a misunderstanding. I don’t know who that is.” 

He glares at her just as he places one hand on his hip while the other rests on his desk. “Well, you better figure out who she is quickly. You have an interview with her on Thursday at 10am. Do not be late. And make that article worth my while, you understand?” 

“Me?” she asks, her head slow to catch up to his words. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that. Now, get out of my office.” 

Wordlessly, and still a little shell-shocked, Kara quickly exits out of his office and makes his way back to her desk. 

“What was that about?” William, one of her coworkers, asks her as peers over his monitor.

She shakes her head. “I have no freakin’ clue.” 

—

Armed with a memo pad and her trusty BIC ballpoint pen, she enters the L-Corp building in downtown National City. She’s on her second cup of coffee this morning, having stayed up late the last two nights doing her homework, researching about L-Corp, the upcoming project launch that the company has largely kept under wraps, and the head of Research and Design: Lena Luthor. 

She has no idea what this woman’s game is about, but she won’t turn down the opportunity as it presents itself. 

Wiping her sweaty hands on the back of her chinos, she reaches the 46th floor and talks with Lena’s assistant about ten minutes before her appointment.

“Miss Luthor will be with you shortly.” 

“Thanks.” 

She waits patiently in the small waiting area, her knee bouncing slightly. She crosses her legs at the knee and resituates herself to stop the bounce. She glances at the clock on the wall and finds that Lena Luthor is now five minutes late. 

She considers walking up to the assistant who seems very intently typing away at her keyboard, but thinks better of it. She waits it out, gives it another five minutes. She reviews her questions from her pad and double checks that her recorder is fully charged. The ticking from the clock and the consistent typing sounds fill the otherwise empty waiting area. 

She watches on as the assistant takes a call before looking over at her from across the way. 

“Miss Luthor apologies for her tardiness, but if you could wait another five minutes, she’ll be on her way up.” 

She nods and sits back slightly in her chair. The clock ticks on. 

While waiting, Kara briefly wonders if this is some type of test, a ploy to check on her. Her imagination lands her to think that this might be some kind of hazing from her colleagues. That didn’t make sense, however, not when this assistant seems like the kind of woman who wouldn’t participate in a prank if it affected her productivity. 

After almost twenty minutes, Kara audibly sighs, tries to rein in her annoyance, before getting up from her seat and decides that perhaps it’s best to reschedule. Just as she’s about to talk with the assistant, the elevator dings open and a woman in a lab coat wearing large dark-rimmed glasses with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail rushes towards them. 

“You must be Kara Danvers,” the woman says, her voice coming out composed despite the exhale she lets out, no doubt from rushing out. 

“I—yes,” she offers, a little stupefied in her spot, glancing down at the offered hand before slowly taking it in her own. 

“Lena Luthor. My deepest apologies for being so late; I was on my way up when a small emergency that couldn’t be ignored exploded…literally.” 

“Is everyone okay?” 

“Everyone is more than fine, thank you. Now, I’m sure you’re also a busy woman, so if we need to reschedule, then I understand. But if you have some time to spare, I can clear part of my schedule so you can ask all of your questions.” 

She blinks a few times to process Lena’s words, a reckoning force in front of her that Kara wouldn’t deny, even if she could. She beams and steps to the side. “Deal.” 

—

True to her word, Lena Luthor answers all of her questions about the new project called Biomax, a nanotechnology meant to advance and expedite healing for various open wounds and injuries. She thoughtfully takes notes of Lena’s responses knowing that the recording will help jog her memories if necessary. 

“Do you have any more questions?” 

Kara glances down to the last question that she has underlined twice: why me?  

She hesitates, an uneasy smile on her face. “Yeah, actually.” 

“Go ahead.” 

“Why did you pick me to interview you? As far as I know, we’ve never met—I’d remember you, for the record—so…just…why?” 

Lena holds her gaze, her head tipping to the side as she regards Kara. She almost looks away under the attention, but maintains her composure. 

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t ask me right away.” 

She shrugs. 

“This project is very important to L-Corp and could greatly affect public perceptions of the company.” 

“I won’t write a puff piece if that’s what you’re asking,” she declares, sitting up. Yet Lena matches her and places a hand up, as if to stop her. 

“On the contrary. I need you to do what you do best.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Lena tents her hands in front of her and smirks. “Your established work in the Midvale Messenger shows level-headedness and thoughtful critiques. You’ve shown fair assessment and reporting, as far as I’m aware.” 

“Oh.” 

“This is a good project, Miss Danvers. I believe it can do a lot of good for a lot of people. But prior to the rebranding, L-Corp has been host to many scandals, as I’m sure your research has shown you. All I ask is that the project is reported on on its own merits and critiqued fairly for what it is and not who owns the building that developed it.” 

“You researched me?” 

“As I’m sure you researched me.” 

“Fair enough.” She nods in understanding. Then, “Don’t worry. I’ll do my job.” 

Lena smiles wide and Kara can’t help but glance down at red lips and white teeth.

“That’s all I ask.” 

Lena’s phone rings, signaling that she needs to get ready for an upcoming meeting. They both stand on either side of Lena’s desk before Lena walks around and stands practically toe to toe with her. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Luthor—” 

“Lena, please.” 

“Lena, then. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Miss Danvers.” 

“Well, if I’m calling you Lena…” 

“Kara it is. Feel free to call back if you need anything else for your article.” 

It’s only as they take the few measured steps between the desk and the office door that Kara notes the warm and cozy tones of Lena’s perfume just as she catches the side to side swish of her long ponytail from the corner of her eye. 

She turns around again and offers a hand, this time Lena grabbing hold of it with ease and shaking it a few times. 

“I hope this isn’t the last time we talk.” 

“I hope not either.” 

It’s not until Jess opens the door in front of them that they let go of each other’s hands. 

—

Her article goes to print, and she’s happy to see her name on the byline. So soon after starting her job, too. 

When she walks into the office the morning her article goes live, she’s met with all eyes from everyone staring at her as soon as she steps out of the elevator. She offers them uneasy smiles as she treks to her desk only to find it teeming with flowers. 

“What’s this?” she asks as she tries to move the different bouquets out of her seat and away from her monitor and keyboard. She glances at William next desk over and he only shrugs. 

“Secret admirer?” 

She plucks the lone card from one of the bouquets and flips it over, grinning from ear to ear. 

Thank you for doing your job. L.L.

—

The paper bag crinkles in her grip as she adjusts the shoulder strap of her messenger bag. The elevator dings and she appears back on the 46th floor of the L-Corp building. 

She walks towards the assistant who doesn’t seem surprised to see her. 

“Hi, uh—” she quickly glances at the name on the desk, “—hi, Jess. I was here last time. I know I don’t have an appointment, but do you think Len–Miss Luthor has a small break coming up or anything like that?” She knocks her glasses back up her nose with her knuckle. 

Jess studies her for a moment before glancing back down to the monitor. “She’s free for the next fifteen minutes.” 

She nods quickly and smiles, appreciative of the granted access. 

Kara knocks and waits until she hears a muffled response for her to enter. She peeks through the door before slowly making her way in. 

“Hi, Lena. Sorry to drop in unannounced…”

“Kara, hello. This is a lovely surprise.” 

She hums. “Well, I was in the neighborhood.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mm. It turns out, it’s hard to get work done when your desk is overflowing with flowers.” 

“Really? Never would have guessed.” 

“No? Somehow I’m surprised,” she asks with a slight giggle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did.” Lena nods, her face sobering slightly, even with the smile still on her face. 

Kara brings a hand up and fixes her glasses again. “Well, I’m not sure I can compete with dozens and dozens of flowers. But perhaps I can offer you with a couple deep fried sugary goodness in exchange. You do eat donuts, right?”

Lena stands from the side of her desk and walks to accept the bag from Kara’s hands. “Well, I am human. Thank you, Kara. Won’t you join me? Probably for the best I don’t eat it all.” 

“Only if you’re sure.” 

Lena sits on the white couch at the far end of her office. “I’m very sure.” 

Kara takes a spot on the couch, the bag of donuts sitting between them. The fifteen minutes of break that Jess originally mentioned becomes half an hour then an hour until it’s just about time to leave for the day, the minutes and hours filled with conversation about nothing, everything. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, Lena,” she starts as they both rise to their feet. “I didn’t mean to keep you.” 

“Nonsense.” 

“I should probably get going, though. A few bites of donuts isn’t enough sustenance.” 

“Well, if you’re not tired of me yet, I was just about to grab some dinner. You're welcome join me.” 

"I couldn't impose." 

"I insist."

Kara glances down at the way Lena’s hands fiddled with each other. Then she thinks briefly about the empty apartment that awaits her and the leftovers sitting in her fridge. 

“Well, then, I’d love that.” 

— 

Days of friendship blossomed into weeks, Kara and Lena trading texts and video calls interspersed with dinners and coffees after long work days. 

The excitement of friendship with Lena lit something deep inside of Kara that she didn’t know ever existed. Simply put, being around Lena was a source of comfort while she settled herself in National City. 

“You’re not the only one who’s new around here,” Lena had said to her during one of their coffee outings, sympathizing with Kara’s adjustment after her recent arrival to the city. “It’s nice for me, too, to have someone—a friend—to spend time with. My therapist thinks so, anyway.” 

Kara then reached forward and placed a hand on Lena’s. “Tell your therapist you’re not alone, Lena. You’ve got me.” 

Lena smiled before reaching over and giving her a hug. Kara easily accepted, held Lena close to her, and made sure to never break her vow. 

—

It’s been a handful of months since Lena and Kara became friends, best friends even, and being allowed unrestricted access to Lena’s office for Kara to stop by still rattles something inside of her. It’s…she can’t quite put a finger on it. A kind of intimacy she enjoys: to be chosen, to be privileged in this way. 

She greets Jess with a grin and a separate bag for Jess’s favored almond croissants as Kara carries her and Lena’s lunch from Noonan’s. 

“How’s it looking today, Jess?” she asks just as puts the bag for Jess on her desk. The assistant grabs for the bag, an uncharacteristic voraciousness as she opens it and takes a whiff of the pastry. “That bad, huh?” 

“She’ll enjoy seeing you today, let’s just say.” 

“Alright. Does she have a hard stop?” 

“She has a conference call at 3. But otherwise, keep her from her computer until then.”

“Got it.” 

Just then, Lena pulls the door open. “Stop plotting against me.”

Kara beams and walks forward with a one-armed hug as she holds the bag of their lunch away from their bodies. She warms at Lena’s touch, both of her arms wrapping around Kara’s back before it gently slides down the length of her back before her hands rest briefly on Kara’s waist.

“I’ll plot against you any way I like. I’m my own woman.” 

“Yes, you are. It’s good to see you, darling. But we don’t have an appointment, do we?” 

“No, no. I just figured I’d drop off some lunch for you. Heard you’ve had a brutal morning.” 

Lena then glances at Jess who has remained steadfast in staring at her screen. “Is that right?” 

“Yes. Now we can stand here or we can actually eat some lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” 

Lena steps back and allows her to walk past her, making a beeline for the coffee table in front of her white couch. She quickly takes out their food from the bag and situates it neatly in front of them, a nice little spread of salads and breads and pasta dishes. 

“Did you buy all of Noonan’s?” Lena asks when she sits beside Kara on the couch. “I can’t possibly eat all of this food, Kara.” 

“Uh, because they’re not for you,” she says, offering a playful scoff. “That’s your kale salad and all the good stuff is mine.”  

She grins when she catches Lena rolling her eyes at her who otherwise grabs a plastic fork and takes a healthy bite out of her salad. Kara hates the stuff, thinks it’s an abomination, but she’s happy to see her friend eating and relaxing. 

Kara etches this moment to memory. Because she likes how settled Lena is beside her as they dig into their lunch. Likes how visibly comfortable Lena looks as she asks Kara about her day so far. Likes how she nudges some other dishes Lena’s way until Lena relents, still gracious as she does so, picking at some of the food. It’s one of Kara’s favorite views, the way Lena leaves herself unguarded, her walls down, with her. 

Abruptly and without notice, something inside of Kara shifts—irreparably, irrevocably. 

She doesn’t know what she’s even said for Lena to snort in laughter, putting her food down on the coffee table to cover her mouth as giggles leak through her fingers.

Something inside of Kara slots into place, the world suddenly saturated and sharpened.

When Lena gets a handle on her laughter, her mouth still etched with the echoes of her mirth, she opens her eyes to fondly look back at Kara, grasping at her arm and squeezing. 

Kara doesn’t hear anything but the pulse of her blood rushing to her ears, and the heat of Lena’s hand on her skin suddenly scorching her. 

And Kara, hopeless and unprepared, discovers on a Tuesday afternoon that she’s maybe a little bit in love with her best friend.

[israeli-hasbara]

An Anonymous User Asked:

At the end of the day, we did all we could. We suffered in diaspora for millennia. We walked their high roads and we died when we reached their destinations. We kept to ourselves, we kept out of their way. We joined their armies and fought their senseless wars. We paid taxes to fund roads we couldn't use and public services we couldn't access. We invented their vaccines and their ballpoint pens and their pacemakers and their nuclear weapons. We tried living as a peaceful, perfect minority in their world. We were good. We did everything they asked of us. They killed us anyway. They hated us anyway.

They say they hate us now because we have our own nation. We have our own taxes that fund our own roads and our own public services. We invent our own navigation apps and firewalls and missile defence systems and nuclear bombs. We have our own armies and our own senseless wars. They say they hate us now because we have our own nation. But they hated us before. They will always hate us, no matter what we do. We just chose not to be their perfect victims any longer.

Well put. It's trurly heartbreaking how no matter what we'll do, they'll hate us.

[dearinglovebot]

there's a common criticism of the jurassic world movies that goes like "trying to weaponize raptors is such a stupid idea. the military would never do that". but my main criticism of that particular plot, from a third worldist perspective, would actually be that it doesn't go far enough.

"it's a crazy idea to even suggest--" in the 1950s CIA operatives attempted psychological warfare on a filipino village by spreading rumors that aswang (vampire-esc creatures) were hunting down rebels. they'd kidnap rebels, create dual puncture wounds in the neck, drain the body of blood, and leave the body for the community to find. they've done crazier.

"it's a stupid idea--" so were most of the ways they plotted (or failed) to assassinate fidel castro. exploding shellfish he'd pick up while scuba diving, tuberculosis-causing-fungi in a scuba mask, exploding cigar, ballpoint pen with secret syringe full of poison, just exploding places, etc. like the vast majority of declassified programs would make you look crazy if you told someone about them, despite the evidence of them existing. in the 1960s they put a tiny microphone + radio transmitter in a cat and tried to use it to spy on the soviets. it was called "acoustic kitty".

"animals just aren't efficient--" drug sniffing dogs can have inaccuracy ranges from 1/3-½ of the time. studies have determined that they can pick up on their trainer's racism and target minorities without any illicit substances because the trainer suspects them to have them. there's also a long history of trying to use intelligent animals as spies (crows, ravens, dolphins, pigeons, dogs, etc). most of these aren't actually more efficient than drones in the end, but they still try it just to see if it would work.

"raptors wouldn't be effective against enemy tanks--" most of the people these raptors would be deployed against wouldn't actually have tanks. they'd be guerrilla fighters who rely on hit and run tactics. or if they do have tanks, they'd be relatively old ones from the soviet era without the same modern capabilities. the USA does not wage war (or, proxy war in most cases) with actual military nations. the better question would be how bullet resistant are their scales which has a scene answering it in the first movie (you'll be dead before you manage a hit).

"but raptors are wild animals that might hurt the troops--" the army gave their own troops cancer and denies many healthcare for it to this day. bases would have these things called "burn pits" where you burn all your trash including ones that produce toxic gas like plastic and electronics. toxic gas, as the name implies, can give you anything from asthma to cancer. yes, they knew it did that. yes, they still use them.

the question of "if" training raptors for war is a good idea or smart idea falls flat when we consider that based on historical context, neither of these things are necessarily required for military projects. if someone can think of it, they will try it. the better question to ask is "would the military believe they have something to gain from it?" because that is the only truly relevant one in this situation.

the answer is "yes". it would be a niche that has not been explored. whether or not the raptors specifically work in war would be irrelevant because part of military operation on animals is understanding if an animal is capable of collaboration. take acoustic cat: the mission was ultimately abandoned, but was considered a "win" because they realized the limitations of cats as tools of war. they were deemed incapable of long-term espionage ability due to trainability, but were not completely ruled out for future short term espionage ability, were a niche to arise.

when we apply all of this understanding to the world movies, we get a firmer grasp on why the semantics don't particularly matter as much as the intended message: "just because we can do things doesn't mean we should". which is in line with the themes of jurassic park as a film.

[iravaid]

💤 🩹💯🎮🖊️ - for (alleged) babygirl Lee 🥰

LEE KINSEY MY BALDING PRINCESS!!!! Amazing excellent. He is in fact a babygirl, a sopping wet sad, incidentally hyperviolent, one 🥰

(this ask meme, for context)

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

Leander Kinsey has not had a full night's sleep in years and he is a very light sleeper. Watch out! Local man plagued by nightmares of a wolf eating his face sleeps with a knife under his pillow!

🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

He has chronic migraines babey!! They can make him physically ill every now and again and that motherfucker Still has to go to work because it's 1920-whatever!!

Lee's also got a lot of issues surrounding the violent life he was brought up in, and in turn got immersed in when he left Virginia. It can manifest in hypervigilance and aggression, but Lee also has dogshit self esteem and no sense of self, and that in turn stunts his emotional development.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Nice tits. and rack, love it. Shout out to Gen who wants Lee to squeeze into an anachronistic pair of jorts 🫡

Lee learned about the Origin of the Species from an ecologist he was hired to transport from the National Academy of Sciences in DC, to the Sonora in order to study gila monsters. The ecologist was worried rival academics would try to steal his work, and so hired what he believed to be the scariest guy in the bar to keep him safe. Odd little adventure for Lee, and he's long forgotten the name of the ecologist (who has certainly not forgotten about Lee)(don't worry about that), but at least Lee found out more about hogs.

Lee's full first name, Leander, is inspired by the poisonous plant oleander. His mother's name was Isabella, like belladonna. His brother was named Syracuse and his father Abraham, biblical names. The family was always meant to be divided down these lines. There's a relatively large age gap between Lee and his older brother, due to issues with conception and fertility. When Lee was born, he was a small and quiet baby, which was offputting to his parents, and people believed he wouldn't make it past adolescence. Abraham had no interest in Lee, as Syracuse was an early bloomer and grew to be tall and broad, therefore proving useful.

Isabella resents getting the 'scraps' (Lee) very deeply, and Lee has a vivid memory of his mother standing over him as a child, when she thought Lee was asleep. Lee doesn't know whether or not she was debating smothering him, and he never found out, either.

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

He likes. uh. hold on let me check the file. So, he likes staring at the wall of his shitty,, musty shack at 2am when he's too exhausted to think and there is a moment of blessed silence. He might pick up whittling one day, but he doesn't think he's all that coordinated enough to make anything of value.

Lee doesn't think he's much of a person right now, so he doesn't have the mental and physical energy to dedicate time towards hobbies, BUT, if things go well and he gets the space to heal and grow and such, I can see Lee slowly learning how to play the fiddle.

In another life, I can also see Lee keeping pigeons. They're sweet little things and they don't ask for much in exchange for a little softness. I'm also very charmed by the thought of a man with hands like his own holding a small bird that trusts him implicitly, unaware Lee is scared of crushing it.

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

He doesn't but I wish he did 😔 They're not mister Kinsey's style, but I did play with the thought of him having a chest tattoo of a snake or eagle, in the style that was popular back in the day.

Thank you for the ask!! Buzzing to talk about ocs... tha beasts...

[spicykaraage]

Tenipuri Complete Character Profile - Kaoru Kaidoh

[PROFILE]

Birthday: May 11th (Taurus)

Blood Type: B

Relatives: Father (Shibuki Kaidoh), Mother (Hozumi Kaidoh), Younger Brother (Hazue Kaidoh)

Father’s Occupation: Company Employee (banker)

Elementary School: Okutamagawa Elementary School

Middle School: Seishun Academy Junior High School

Grade & Class: Second Year | Class 2-7 | Seat 4

Club: Tennis Club (Regular, future captain)

Committee: None

Strong Subjects: English

Weak Subjects: Math, Science

Frequently Visited Spot at School: Training Room

Favorite Motto: “In for a penny, in for a pound.” ➜ “Slow and steady wins the race.” [23.5]

Daily Routines: Long distance runs, cleaning his room

Hobbies: Marathoning, collecting bandanas, rock climbing [TP]

Favorite Color: Blue

Favorite Music: Traditional Japanese instrumental music

Favorite Movie: Japanese films

Favorite Book: Japanese literature from the Meiji Era

Favorite Food: Tororo soba (zaru style), yogurt, 100% fruit juice (white peach flavor [TP])

Favorite Anniversary: Father’s Day, Mother’s Day

Preferred Type: A girl who eats food with gusto

Ideal Date Spot: Zoo (he wants to see the polar bears) ➜ “A cat café—I mean, going cycling.” [TP]

His Gift for a Special Person: Imabari towels

Where He Wants to Travel: “Nowhere.” (a magazine featuring Malta is visible in his bag)

What He Wants Most Right Now: New training equipment ➜ For Seigaku to win the national tournament again [23.5]

Dislikes: Monsters, ghosts ➜ Supernatural things, konjac [TP]

Skills Outside of Tennis: General housework (particularly cleaning and sewing [TP]), can quickly grab beans with chopsticks [TP]

Spends Allowance On: Training equipment

Routine During the World Cup: Sending postcards to his family

[DATA]

Height: 173cm ➜ 174cm [23.5]

Weight: 57kg

Shoe Size: 26.5cm

Dominant Arm: Right

Vision: 1.5 Left & Right

Play Style: Counter Puncher

Signature Moves: Snake, Boomerang Snake, Short Snake, Tornado Snake, Gyro Laser

Daily Running Distance: 25km

Favorite Brands:

Racket: HEAD (Ti.S7)

Shoes: PUMA (Cell Factor PTO634)

Fitness Test Results:

Sidesteps: 58

Shuttle Run: 140

Back Strength: 122kg

Grip Strength: 54.5kg

Backbend: 62.8cm

Seated Forward Bend: 49.6cm

50m Run: 6.74 seconds

Standing Long Jump: 224cm

Handball Throw: 33m

Endurance Run (1500m): 4:47

Overall Rating: Speed: 3 / Power: 3 / Stamina: 4.5 / Mental: 3 / Technique: 3 / Total: 16.5

Kurobe Memo: “His unyielding personality and endurance are all part of his charm. I’m sure he'll grow into bring the type of player that can strip off an opponent's control as the match goes on. His match with Tezuka was a great learning opportunity for him to stop being so reserved with others.” [RB]

[POSSESSIONS]

What’s in His Bedroom [10.5]:

TV and audio equipment // Various equipment along with a DVD player and collection of DVDs

Glass table // Used for studying, it is always clean and not a single fingerprint can be found on it

Japanese-style bed area // A spacious area in his bedroom with Japanese motifs. He uses it strictly for his bed and has a double-size futon laying out

Area for training // An area where he keeps various stretching equipment. He trains hard everyday even in his bedroom

Full-length mirror // He had it installed to check on his form, but he doesn’t use it much

What’s in His Bag [10.5]:

Bandanas // He always has two or three of them with him so he can replace one if it gets dirty

Writing supplies // He only takes notes with a ballpoint pen

Notebook

His lunch // Made in luxurious, lacquered jubako (tiered lunch boxes) and furoshiki wrapped. He also brings chopsticks and a chopstick rest with him

Sewing kit // Along with nail clippers. He always maintains his nails before practice

Handkerchief and tissues // He is particular about staying clean and tidy

Pass case

[TRIVIA]

The Prince of Tennis 10.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 11/02/2001

He is described to have large, upturned eyes and slightly big lips

He is secretly compassionate and easily moved

He prefers girls with big eyes and who can trust him with her heart and soul

He loves yogurt and eats it to stay healthy, he particularly likes the Morinaga brand

He does a great amount of daily training, including intense strength training unbeknownst to the other members

He glares at people who approach him and exudes an aura that keeps them at bay. In reality, it is because he is nervous over his appearance and is not good at interacting with others

His hissing is a habit of how he breathes, Konomi wanted him to give off an eerie feeling by doing it

He is Konomi’s favorite member of Seigaku

He is one of few characters who wear no show socks

He wears bandanas to help motivate himself

He trained and mastered his Snake Shot after losing a rookie match in the fall when he was a first year

He will stay silent and glare when asked personal questions, he usually is not angry, however

He does not mind being called by his first name, but gets angry when people call him “viper”

His sharp, arching eyebrows are natural

His unnerving aura tends to scare off animals as well

He believes he is stronger than Momoshiro and could easily beat him

He does tennis training and long distance runs (morning and evening) even on off days

He secretly loves animals, especially cats

His personality is described as someone who is misunderstood and frightens others because of it, but is actually kind and afraid of hurting others more than anything else

Konomi describes him as “hardworking” and that he’s not just unpleasant, he’s a hard worker who happens to be unpleasant. An “I am who I am” type of character

The Prince of Tennis 20.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2003

He is described as stoic and tenacious, and would be suited for event planning

He has a temperament of never giving up, which gives him leadership qualities

He will go on runs even after matches

His secondary sport would be boxing

The Prince of Tennis 40.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2007

He tends to let his emotions overtake him and is considered a “troublemaker” because of it

He is very just, moral and will get angry when someone disrespects his teammates or rivals

He has a hard time accepting people and tends to clash with them, which puts a strain on his relations. He does however, have a strong sense of camaraderie and exhibits a cooperative nature with his friends

He is described to have a jealous side to him and has a tendency to want to control his friends and/or lovers

His daily running distance is 25km, and he will continue to run even further until he reaches his physical limits

He has been popular with the older women in the area of the national tournament. He was spotted at the shopping district surrounded by women trying to feed him

Konomi had been inspired to give him a Devil Mode from commercials of the film Spider-Man 3, depicting the titular hero wearing a dark version of his suit

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 3 | Publication Date: 01/04/2010

When he was injured during training, Yagyuu had given him a handkerchief and told him he could keep it

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 6 | Publication Date: 06/03/2011

He wants next year’s tennis club to be unbeatable and win the national tournament again, stating it would be pointless otherwise

He hates being called “viper” and even hates saying it

He does not ask his parents for gifts

When asked random questions, he becomes outwardly annoyed and frank

He is described as being a “strict” upperclassman

Konomi states he does not remember how he came up with his name, but wanted there to be a contrast between his “cute” name and “cool” face

Konomi came up with his Snake Shot since a senior member of his tennis club had used it. When Konomi had drawn his match with Ryoma, he wanted convey the power of tennis without any dialogue since he was Ryoma’s first serious opponent

Konomi is particular about drawing the shape of his mouth and under eyelashes. He wanted to make his eyes look angry and give off a sense of hunger

Konomi gradually began showing off his good side, but wants to show off the same “hunger” he had when he faced off against Tezuka

One of His School Days:

5:00am - Wakes up, goes on a run

6:00am - Breakfast (handmade soba with homemade fruits)

6:50am - Goes to school, morning practice

8:20am - Cleans the teacher’s desk, etc. for morning duties

8:40am - 1st Period: Science II (astronomy)

9:40am - 2nd Period: PE (sprints)

10:30am - Runs around the schoolyard during break

11:00am - 3rd Period: Japanese (modern Japanese)

12:00pm - 4th Period: Home Economics (sewing aprons)

12:50pm - Lunch, jubako bento (lobster with hollandaise sauce)

1:00pm - Strength training in the training room

1:20pm - 5th Period: Math II

2:20pm - 6th Period: Social Studies (civics)

4:00pm - Club activities, basic training

6:00pm - Returns home, has dinner, bathes

7:00pm - Cleans his room, irons his shirts

8:30pm - Watches the DVD “The Arctic: The Life of Polar Bears”

9:00pm - Goes on a run after training in his room

1:00am - Takes a quick shower, then goes to bed

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 7 | Publication Date: 07/04/2011

He and Momoshiro had found a natural hot spring near the training camp and invited Ryoma to join them

The Prince of Tennis II 10.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 09/04/2013

He and Hiyoshi get into constant fights with Kirihara and Zaizen since the former two like going to bed early while the latter two like staying up to play video games

The Prince of Tennis II 23.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 05/02/2018

He recently visited a family-owned candy store for the first time and was impressed by the old-fashioned sweets

The Prince of Tennis 20th Anniversary Book: Tenipuri Party | Publication Date: 08/02/2019

Since he is afraid of spirits and ghosts, when he runs at night he thinks he’s being chased by a ghost, so he doesn’t slow down

[murderousink23]

06/10/2024 is National Ballpoint Pen Day 🖊🇺🇸, National Black Cow Day 🇺🇸, National Herbs and Spices Day 🇺🇸, National Iced Tea Day 🇺🇸, National Egg Roll Day 🇺🇸

[mariacallous]

[mellon1998]

Sampaguita — Inktober 2022 Day 13

Today's national flower is for the Philippines 🇵🇭

(I'm strictly working in ballpoint pen, any color is the paper)

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Ballpoint Day & National Herb and Spice Day

Person A makes their own scented ink for their pens, to give their letters a personalized and unique flair. Their favorite scent they use to write in their daily journal that they take everywhere with them. One day, they misplace it and it’s found by a stranger, Person B, who reads some of it, decides they don’t want to just reunite the journal with it’s owner, but also meet the owner since they’re intrigued by them.

[aster-riskite]

Hey it's me. I'm sure you already know what I'm going to ask.

GerEng...and for the prompt...I'm currently studying for midterms and burning out so something about studying/working and getting burnt out?

Hello omg 😳 Gladly!

Have a lil... softness. :)

"A Brief Recess"

Feat. The silly little guys i guess B)

It was a boring day. A day so normal that an immortal nation-personification-representative would never remember it under normal circumstances. Though, the assembly was a thing to remember.

That's what Arthur believed anyways. It was so incredibly boring that he began to watch his fellow "delegates" during this day's boring summit, watching their bored faces scrunch in disapproval. Though, when his eyes fell on a certain man, he felt the boredom replace itself with a new feeling. One he tried not to acknowledge.

Ludwig, normally the most alert of anyone, looked entirely disheveled. His eyes were halfway closed throughout the current speaker's remarks, and his pen was clicked lazily throughout the whole thing. Even his hair, normally slicked back, was messy and a bit unkempt. That little ballpoint pen might have been the only reason he was still awake. One had to wonder how he had come to this point, but the answer was obvious: the man was working himself to death.

This was unacceptable. Not because he wasn't being professional, but because the exhaustion was further progressed than it should ever be. It was unacceptable because it made Arthur worried. Too worried.

Ludwig even looked ill. He looked like he could collapse at any moment. The sight was so pitiful that Arthur had to pity him, indulging his caring heart.

He raised his placard, labeled "England," and coughed to get the speaker's attention.

"Motion to hold a brief recess, fifteen minutes."

"Herr Kirkland," The speaker, Roderich, began. "We're an hour out from the end of today's gathering. Can't it wait?"

"What of it? It's not like anyone's listening to you, you've been going on about your finances in so many directions that I can't think straight."

"... Does anyone second this?" The Austrian asked, annoyed.

A few placards were raised, further annoying him.

"Any opposed?" He hissed.

Ludwig was the only one to oppose, at which Arthur shot him a glare. Not of anger, but of disbelief.

"Seeing a majority of seconds, the motion is granted." Roderich scoffed as he announced it as the host of this day's events. "Take your fifteen minutes already." He seemed a bit salty.

At that, Arthur stood and went to Ludwig's side, sitting right next to him.

"What do you want, you wanted time to rest. Go take it..." The German was unusually quiet as he scolded the Englishman. He sounded almost like he was whining, as opposed to a usual demanding tone.

"That wasn't for me." Arthur started, equally quiet for his sake. "It was for you."

"What-?" A brow raised was all Ludwig could muster.

"I'm serious! Why are you so disheveled? You look like you've just crawled out of the fires of the underworld." He had a penchant for exaggerating, but this time, it was true.

"I might as well have, I've been working all week." He rolled his eyes, staring back at Arthur.

The moment they finally made eye contact, Ludwig felt himself melting. Not because he was upset, but because Arthur was. It was as if there was an underlying care in his scolding glare.

"Have you even eaten?" Arthur asked, prompted by the way Ludwig sunk into the table.

"You of all people should know we can survive without-"

"Immortality be damned, you need food! And what about water? Or a bath?"

"Um.." It was at that point that Ludwig finally crumpled a bit, falling more into the desk. "..no."

"Bloody hell- I'll have to do something about that, won't I?"

Ludwig tensed.

"Calm down, I'll take you somewhere for dinner. Tonight. Actually, right after the meeting ends."

"Are you... are you sure?" In spite of everything, Ludwig blushed a bit. This was an odd way to be asked out. Especially considering the situation.

"Positive. For now, though, I'm going to get you a water. Stay here and rest your eyes, alright?"

"Mhm..." He didn't hesitate to lay his head down on the desk. In fact, he could barely resist sleep. And so, as the world darkened around him, he let himself imagine being held in the arms of someone he'd been admiring for far too long. Someone with emerald green eyes he could lose himself entirely in.

He opted to blame his heart for making his head hurt, rather than the lack of hydration.

Arthur left hastily, running to the nearest vending machine he saw and putting in a bill. Once he had obtained the water, he returned to the conference room, only to see that Ludwig had fallen asleep before he could come back.

Poor dear.

Setting the bottle down by the placard, he took his place at the table once again. In spite of the recess' end, he couldn't keep his eyes off of Ludwig, as if hoping to will the man into rest. Gradually, he noticed himself getting a little too hot for the room, his face burning.

"What is wrong with me..?" He asked himself, accidentally out loud.

All eyes were on Arthur Kirkland in that moment. The subject of the room's curiosity went red in the face.

"Bugger off, would you?"

Except, they didn't. Not even when the meeting ended, and Arthur went quietly to Ludwig's side to wake him gently.

A few words were audible to anyone who listened:

"Come on, love. It's time to go."

"But-"

"No buts." Arthur lifted the taller man out of his seat on his shoulder with considerable effort. "Christ, you're heavy-"

"Oh, I can stand-" Ludwig held his own weight, despite wobbling a bit.

"No, it's fine. Feel free to lean on me, actually." Arthur held his hand as they walked outside, taking a moment every now and then to check on the taller.

Ludwig looked a little less exhausted, which was good. He slowly got into a rhythm with his steps, signifying a return to the waking world. Of course, when he almost walked out into traffic, Arthur had to grab him.

Neither minded, though. Bar the scary experience.

"You alright there?"

"Less tired now..." His dull eyes betrayed him, proving his answer to be a lie. "Can we just go back to the hotel? It's on the way."

"Of course, but I'm still buying you food."

"You don't have to, I can-"

"Shush." Arthur continued to lead him until the reached the building of their chosen hotel. It wasn't a difficult journey, after all.

Soon enough, Ludwig was on the couch in his room. He breathed deeply, trying to relax.

"There we go... Is there anything in particular you want?" Arthur put a blanket over him.

"Bread... That's all I could want right now..."

"I understand. I'll be back soon, alright?" Without thinking, Arthur put his hand underneath Ludwig's chin, effectively holding his gaze up.

Both men blushed, silently staring at each other for a solid minute.

"...what did you say again?"

"Just- Go to sleep. I won't be gone long." Arthur tore himself away, headed for the door with a huff.

Ludwig put his own hand where Arthur's was now missing, smiling to himself. "Don't, uh... don't forget the key."

"What do you take me for? As a gentleman, it's my duty to remember such things. And as an ill man, it's your duty to rest."

"I'm not ill-"

"You fit the bill, now lie down already."

With a sad face, Ludwig followed the order, watching the Englishman leave.

Arthur left, still red in the face and struggling to make his heart stop racing. He thought back on his decision to force the assembly to have a recess, reminding himself of one thing: it was just a kind gesture.

Right?

It may not have been something Ludwig would have asked for, but it was something he needed.

Arthur didn't want to admit that he cared, but after his actions today, he may be forced to. It wasn't like he was trying to care, it just happened. "Curses..." was all he could say in response to his heart's foolish insistence upon making him blush for that self-destructive fool.

He didn't realize that he'd been distracted, thinking about Ludwig, until he was back at the doors of the hotel with some groceries in hand. Once the door was unlocked, he was brought back to reality, because reality was far more necessary to think about than his own heart.

Ludwig woke at the sound of the hotel door opening, blinking a bit. "Oh, it's you... Where am I?" He looked confused, but not scared.

Arthur chuckled. "You're in a hotel, and I'm back with bread."

"Oh, good... I'm hungry."

"Good, because that's the whole reason I went out." He smirked and set the bag on the counter. "How does sourdough sound?"

"Good... Don't try to toast it, though." Ludwig tried to stand.

"Don't you dare try to stand, you're supposed to be resting."

"Mm... Wait, but-"

"No sir. Don't you dare." He gave Ludwig a look.

The man was back on the couch in mere seconds.

"Good. Now don't you worry about a thing." Arthur walked back to the room, a few slices of bread on the plate, along with some butter. He sat down next to Ludwig, unintentionally curling up next to him.

"Is there a reason you're...?" The German put an arm around him nonetheless.

"No... But if it gets you to rest, I don't mind it." There were more reasons than that, but excuses were a comfort he tried to enjoy.

"Well, it's okay... I like it..." Ludwig started to drift off again, holding Arthur to his chest.

"I like it too." Arthur muttered. He let himself be held, relaxing as well.

Through the night, the pair cuddled each other. They slept peacefully, not even disturbed by each other's warmth. The soft rise and fall of each chest lulled them both into true rest.

The day had been boring, sure, but the night was gentle enough to remember.