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english8muffin · 3 years

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Vogue morning routine

Y/N Y/N/L’s guide to effortless natural makeup

Summary: you are asked to do the Vogue Beauty Secrets video and your two boys decide to join the party

Word count: around 2000

Warning: none, just pure floof!

I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language (+ this is my very first fic)

HEADLINE Henry Cavill’s new girlfriend, designer Y/N Y/L/N reveals her everyday morning routine in recent Vogue video: Y/N Y/L/N shows off her secrets to the perfect fusion of European and Asian beauty.

You stood in the spacious bathroom of the hotel room, only wearing a big, fluffy, white robe, that was actually Henry’s. But since the man was in the gym, you took the opportunity to lend it and bathe yourself in his musky smell, that calmed your nerves. Last night you started panicking, thinking you would probably look stupid for the entire world to see, luckily Henry and Kal tried to calm you down with cuddles and kisses.

This was the first ‘interview’ you would do, being such a young, successful entrepreneur really caught the attention of the media. When you first started your small online shop, you never would have thought you would end up here. Five years later, with a steady income, the job you always wished for and the man you had a crush on since the first time you laid eyes on him. Being a creative, it really made your heart soar with happiness, seeing all your products, your babies, in new homes where they would make others happy.

You were really proud of yourself. Henry was as well, and he made sure you and everybody around you knew. You were apprehensive at first, being with such a well known actor, who was also much older than you, it made you nervous of what people would say, what the media would say. You didn’t want to tarnish Henry’s image. You knew there were people with a much bigger age gap, but still, people were ruthless. So you both decided to take it slow, being careful with going out in public and social media posts.

You stand in front of the large mirror, which had a camera attached to it and open up your makeup bag. Right before you went into the bathroom, you made yourself a nice cup of tea, trying to stay calm. “Hi! I’m Y/N and today I am going to show you my everyday makeup routine,” you say with a smile, “I am not a dermatologist so please don’t take what I say too seriously.”

You grab a small white washcloth and hold it up, so it was in the frame, “First, I am going to wash my face and put on a few drops of serum,” You dampen the cloth and wipe it over your face and neck. You put a few drops in the palm of your hand and pat them into your skin. “Now I going to use my jade roller to massage the serum into my skin. It’s quite funny seeing so many people use these nowadays. In ancient China they were mostly used by the elite to keep there skin ageless. They would call jade the Stone of Heaven. It’s really helpful for the people who wake up with a puffy face like me,” you chuckle.

Somethimes you’d wake up with puffy cheeks, which led to Henry calling you his chubby bunny in the morning.

“Just a quick tip, and this is for everybody, make sure you always use SPF. I personally use SPF 30 and this one is shine control, since I tend to get an oily skin, but you can also use a regular one or a foundation with SPF in it. Believe me when I say your skin will be thankful.”

You grab the small tube of sun cream and show the amount you’ll use. You even convinced Henry to wear SPF everyday. At first he said he didn’t think it would make such a big difference, but when he realised you were going to be the one to put it on him, he was convinced about its benefits and adamant to wear it everyday. After working the thick cream into your skin, you put on some lipbalm and rummage through the pouch in front of you. When you find the product you’re looking for, you hold it up. “Now, I am going to put on a bit of concealer, this one is from Maybelline. After this, I will use a lighter shade under my eyes and on my acne scars that I have here,” you point and circle around the small cluster of scars on the sides of your cheeks.

Before blending out the concealer, you smile at the lens and put in two bright yellow hairclips, to keep your dark locks from falling into your face. “I probably should have done this at the start,” you laugh. The nerves creeping up a little. It wasn’t that you where a shy person, but knowing thousands of people will watch this, did something to you. You were always a very easygoing person, who could talk with pretty much everybody. But knowing people were going to watch you do something so intimate in a way, and would probably comment on it, scared you a little. While you would be 100% yourself, doing something as mundane as getting ready. If they didn’t like you now, then they probably won’t like you later. And that was what made you so afraid.

The bathrobe falls a bit down your shoulder, but you ignore it, since your hair fell down your shoulders in big waves. “Okay, brows. I used to block them in really dark when I was younger, but now I try to keep a light hand. I’ll use this Got 2B Glued as a brow gel afterwards. The tails of my eyebrows tend to move if I don’t use a strong enough gel. If you’re Asian you will understand the struggle.”

You quickly finish your brows, put some bronzer on your face and eyelids and take out your liquid eyeliner. “Am I the only one that acts like I’m a beauty guru whenever I do my makeup? Like, I’m just acting as if I’m used to this, right now, but to be honest, I was really nervous to do this video for Vogue,” you admit, “they will probably regret asking me,” you chuckle. You finish your eyemakeup with curling your long lashes, thanks to your mother’s genes, and add a coat of mascara.

You take in a deep breath, excited to show everyone the product you had been waiting for. “The next thing I am really proud to show you guys, because I designed the packaging. This is the new limited edition blush and highlighter palette from Dior, which they created for Lunar New Year!” You beam with pride, holding up the elegant looking palette. It had a darker toned glossy finish and the borders were the traditional Chinese looking frames, which were 3D and were surrounded by a wild variety of peonies. In the middle of the lid was your Chinese calligraphy in big golden brush stokes that said ‘year of the Ox’, the clasp was designed so it resembled an antique Chinese coin and on the side hung a jade charm.

“You can pre-order this palette now, I think they will put a link-thingy in de description. I wish you all a happy and blessed Lunar New Year, 祝农历年新年快乐牛年大吉!”

Just as you’re about to add some blush to your cheeks, the bathroom door creaks open and a curly-headed, sweaty Henry pops his head in. Fresh from the gym, and were you thankful for his new intense workout, because he was truely a sight to behold. A cheeky smile graces his handsome face when he spots you in front of the mirror, only wearing his robe, which made his grin widen.

“what are you doing in here? Are you hiding from me? Playing hide and seek is it?” he teases and rakes his large hand through the tousled curls, but just as he’s done speaking, he sees the camera behind you, and blushes. “Oh, I didn’t know you were filming, I’m sorry darling,” he smiles and gives a small wave in the direction of the camera. You led out a giggle, cheeks turning red already, if he’d keep this up, you wouldn’t need to add blush. You couldn’t focus anymore, he looked so attractive, only wearing his black gym shorts and a tight dark blue tank top. Damn that camera, otherwise you would have jumped him. Henry, thought the exact same thing. Seeing you, only wearing his robe and your hair still a bit wild from this morning’s cardio, made him hold back a moan. Those two cute, yellow clips in your hair could have fooled him, because you were anything but innocent.

Before he’s about to close the door again, he blows you a kiss. But his actions are stopped when a big bear makes his appearance. Bolting past his dad’s legs, Kal comes into the bathroom. Henry tries to catch him but misses. The black and white akita excitedly sniffs his head around the sink, trying to see what you were up to with all the stuff lying on the marble counter.

“Kal!” Henry whisper-yelled, trying to stay hidden behind the door. But you could still see his massive body crouched down behind the wood. It was rather funny, seeing the large man so panicked about getting his dog to listen. It kind of reminded you of that one video from BBC were a professor was being interviewed and his baby and nanny showed up in the background. While Henry tried to get Kal’s attention, the dog just sat next to your legs, and smiled when you pet him behind his ear. He was your good boy.

You both knew there was no other option but to keep Kal here, once he saw you do your makeup, he wanted to watch and get his ‘makeup’ done as well.

Henry also saw the look in Kal’s eyes and let out a sigh. Might as well stay with his two loves. He stood up from his position and walked to you, wrapping his sweaty but oh so save body around your figure, and placed a prolonged kiss on the exposed skin just by your shoulder. So far for taking it slow… He pressed himself thighter against your back, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and intertwined your hands, slowly rocking you two back en forth. “You look beautiful, my love,” he whispered, so only you could hear it, at least you hoped the camera wouldn’t pick that up. You let out a little giggle, like the inner schoolgirl you were whenever he was around you.

“Kal loves when Y/N does his makeup as well, don’t you boy,” Henry explains with a smile and looks down at the bear by your bare feet. Kal gives a small ruff and sweeps his tail eagerly. “Did you show them what you made,” he asked you with a wide smile, and looked straight in to the camera, “she worked really hard on that design, so I hope you all like it,” he declared proudly.

You ended up doing your makeup routine with your two boys in the background. Henry left for a few minutes to shower in the second bathroom your hotelroom had, and came back clad in a pair of light jogging trousers and a sweater. Even though you were inside, it was still a bit too chilly to walk around in short sleeves, being mid-winter and all. He just sat on the small wooden bench by the door, still in frame for everybody to enjoy and behold. His hair now damp. He was reading in a book and patiently waiting for you to get ready, occasionally looking up and laughing when you would wet your hands or Kal’s special makeup brush in the sink and pretend to do his makeup. The dog would bark excitedly and give you kisses. “Wow Kal, you look so pretty,” Henry told the big floof with the chuckle.

“Okay, this was my -somewhat- everyday makeup routine! Thank you guys for watching this chaotic mess, hope you laughed a bit, bye-bye, 再见!” How do those vlogger end their videos? Smash like and subscribe?

Behind you Henry looked up from the pages of his fantasy book and arched his brow, “Hey! No shout-out for your special guests? See you all next time!”

WOOHOO!! This is my very first fanfic, I really hope you enjoyed it. Liking, reposting and commenting would mean a lot to me! If you do repost this, please do not edit or copy my work. I worked really hard on this.

Much love, Nahmi xxx

Masterlist can be found HERE!

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ghoulishhusband · 3 years

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I just realized I can actually talk here. Like this is my account fuck u

Fucking uhhhhhh, hi ig lemme ramble abt my God ocs yea?

Ignore this part if you don't wanna hear (likely) unedited rambles lol it doesn't matter

CW: neglect/abuse, assholery/narcissism, manipulation, tread lightly!

read the under cut owo

Also don't steal my art I'll fucking?? Fight you????

I have three main gods that I wanna talk abt especially bc they've been on my mind lately.. Less get it, side notes are in (parentheses) and are bolded cause I have perception issues whoo I don't want it to jumble together is my point lol

First up is my asshole,

Giodine

they/them (preferred)

god/godself (i like pronouns that fit my characters, so I'm giving a bunch away for one night only at--)

ID : Giodine is colored with gold-ish yellow skin and ginger hair. Their eyes are a muted purple and they have tiny eyebrows. Their lips are a muted brown and are full looking, their nose is sharp and points down. They have wings for ears and is wearing a blazer with a long-sleeved, collared shirt underneath it. The background is beige with a yellow square and a dark purple square partially encompassing it. It is signed GH (for ghoulish husband), Spork, 21.

(lemme know if that helps at all! I'm sure I can do better so lemme know!)

If they look weird here it's bc I accidentally made their face too long but believe it or not this is in fact just a doodle Ik I'm so fuckin talented babes.

Anyways, they're basically the first God to ever exist on my version of earth (though even that is fickle rn, world-building is hard unless I hyper-focus on it, and haha Guess What I Haven't Been Thinking About) and they're very egotistical and selfish. As I'll probably yap about later is how they're manipulative as well, especially to another God I'll mention, and very neglectful to the other... other one.

Their partner(professionally), or fiend as they call him, is sam who for the first few eons was, unsurprisingly, absolutely terrible to him. A few tender moments are few and far in between in what could only be described as a completely rancid relationship. I'll describe giodine's side and in sam's lil ramble, I'll describe his :]

I have to explain this because it's a big part of the lore and how they can't work together, even when one of them is very much near The Void (technical death for gods) BUT basically, with Sam, giodine created purgatory. The issue here is that they basically seduced sam into doing it. Well, even if they hadn't, sam was in lesbians(happy pride month lmao) with giodine and would've done it anyway. But the ISSUE is that with the creation of purgatory came complications. See, my gods have to take time to develop into their power, and considering giodine was first and sam was around 666th.. you see the issue. Sam wasn't into his complete power yet and thus lost a giant part of it that went into purg.

See, giodine saw no problem with this (until much later, they do get a VERY SLOW BURN redemption arc cause this ain't even the worst of it), they got what they were aching for out of them and thusly had no need for..sam. They laid him in the spot where she was made (fwi it isn't inherently sexual, it can be, but literally, they just merged together-- taking bits and pieces of each other (which sam did not have enough of) and earth and light yadda, yadda I'll post the story I wrote for that later if I'm up to it) and left him there in the grass.

Again, they saw no problem with that, the deed was done, they didn't care anymore. A common issue in their qualms, sam and Giodine. They did find an issue in Sam finding an issue in the lack of aftercare, which resorted to any message going to or coming from sam going straight to his assistant and going back through them for a couple of thousand years. They found that infuriating-- how could he not face them over something so small! and for years?! it was ridiculous. After forcing a face-to-face meeting, a heated proclaim of hurt from sam, and a bitter agreement to meet up every now and again, they got what they wanted from him. Again. It was a business after all, there was no point in making it harder than it needed to be.

Giodine doesn't necessarily like boundaries and tends to overstep sam's frequently. They also don't like his reaction to his boundaries being long jumped over, which thusly ends up in disgruntled messages being sent back and forth between them and his assistant for a month or three. It slowly gets through to them, but they tend to say some stupid shit and if they want sam to stay, they have to try and avoid mentioning how "overly sensitive" he is to something that happened eons ago.

(quick mention, there isn't like. time. here. so in all honesty, giodine probably counted earth days instead of Heaven 'days' to get that) Soon into their arrangements to meet, they seem to get on at least tolerable terms, obviously, a few meetings where neither of them feels like going apeshit and taking proper shapeless (or in sams case, he's got a newfound form for ANGER OO just for giodine 🤗) forms isn't going to fix a grudge that has yet to be apologized for by the way. But it's a start to a very long process down the road. Tolerance.

Giodine as an entity is very fickle and rude and demanding. They tend to have a short temper that no one else is allowed to have or comment on-- They were the first therefore they were the most important!

This is very obviously an issue. But it's mostly directed to purgatory. Almost all of their seething rage is pointed towards the poor entity, she's barely been alive yet and they already seem to hate her for things she doesn't know how to do. Honestly, I don't think Purg will ever fully forgive them for the unnecessary abuse of her character, but just as Sam and Giodine get on better terms, they had barely just begun fixing the hole in their relationship. As of now, Sam/Giodine don't have any minor plot points with purgatory other than the major one so I don't have a lot to say about their relationship right now. Maybe one day.

I'd go into details, seriously, but I just wanna ramble about their relationships with each other and their impact on each other's existence. Hope you don't mind a few secrets 😉

But, now, it's time for a new God, one I think most people take a liking to...

Sam (Samuel)

He/him

ID: Sam is surrounded by clouds in the light blue, fading to a darker blue sky and the yellow sun. His horns are a darker beige, which is being highlighted by the sun shining down on him, he also has pointed ears. His skin is red which is very prominent in the sun. His eyes are completely yellow, his hair, beard and mustache are also black. He has an orange scar crawling up to his Adams apple. His wings are a darker grey which is also being highlighted by the sun. His nails are painted black and his hand is holding up the black fabric barely covering his shoulders. Around the painting is a gold and red shaded frame with swirls complimenting each side and a crystal at the bottom of it. It is lightly signed GH, for ghoulish husband.

Sam, Sam, Samuel.

If you don't realize right away, Sam is basically Satan, he's the ruler of hell

Like how giodine was the first to appear on earth, as mentioned before sam was 666th for funnie reasons. Sam was made from bugs, dried blood, and sunlight which sounds pretty gross, but he's far from it. He's a silly, yet neat, guy. He wears Hawaiian shirts and khakis (not around giodine lmao) for cryin' out loud! how bad of a person can he be? Apparently to giodine (for a while obviously) he was the most retched entity to exist. This very much hurt him considering the amount of fake care they showed him before. With a mixture of confusing feelings (which wasn't supposed to be a thing but Univerce went "lmao you'll be fine" and left... short explanation, Univerce is the Universe and is the entity who simply builds these planets and gods that'll appear there and leave them to their own devices, xyr not extremely important in this story. Nor would they care.) and feeling used, he decided that no he wasn't going to take that.

If there is one thing Sam knows how to do is to self preserve himself, even if that means getting passive-aggressive notes sent to him every once in a while. While this period, Sam was surprisingly the least productive (unfortunately giodine knew this and eventually mentioned it in one of their meetings which made him hide away cause like hell giodine was going to be critical of /him/) but he managed. It wasn't terrible, but unfortunately, Sam being able to talk it out with someone who does practically the same work as he does and gets newer, more helpful ideas was better in the long run.

Unsurprisingly, Sam was the first to initiate the healing of his and giodine's relationship but it wasn't reciprocated. Who would've figured, aye? Giodine kept pushing it back onto him and ignoring any progress that could've been made before. Which was frustrating.

The painting above was 'painted' by giodine, which is sorta where their relationship gets somewhat on an understanding of each other. Giodine gets to take a deep long look into who Sam is and tries to express it but it never fit him, it makes them realize that they never really-- truly got to know him. And all it does for Sam is make him even more confused about his place in giodine’s mind. He figured it's another fluke to get him to do something, so he ends up distancing himself when they start actually reciprocating his friendship advancements.

Suddenly, like a flash, Sam was forced to stay with giodine which is where the majority. I'll explain.

Sam...isn't actually the ruler of hell. Anymore, anyways depending on the timeline. His and purgatory's relationship has always been complicated, she always avoided him, and when they talked she always seemed scared of him. So in the end, they've never been close. Distant. Sam always wanted to talk to her, he made her, but if she didn't want to talk to him he wouldn't force it. But imagine his surprise as Purg singlehandedly took over hell in a hazed frenzy.

And not only that, had a personal vendetta against him!

Well, that would be the only explanation to Sam considering how he ended up broken and barely 'alive' at the hands of her. Horns broken and in tatters, pain and almost obliterated it felt like a hate crime. He didn't know what to do when he made it to the office, Purgatory was creating chaos outside his door and barely being able to breathe he felt like it was the end. So he called giodine.

Purgatory

She/her

ID: Purgatory is surrounded by flowers that are dark grey and white. The light fades down into a dark green. The light shines down on top of her straight, white hair that has yellow flowers tucked into it. Her skin is a dark brown and has a orange-ish yellow scar on her shoulder trailing up to her neck. Her skin is also highlighted by the sun. In one of her eyes, her sclera is black with an orangey, glowing iris. As for the other eye it it has a white sclera and the same, glowing orange iris. She has wings for ears, one dark grey and one white along with beige horns. She has a white fabric covering her chest. The frame is gold with white accents, but also has vines and moss crawling up the side.

(may have goofed a bit and forgot to color the sclera of her other eye white but ignore that pls)

Purgatory was made by Sam and Giodine, but to her it felt like a mistake. Why make someone that you’re going to be terrible to, she believed. Giodine seemed to hate her and eventually made her section almost obsolete because she simply wasn’t able to keep up with the backlog that she wasn’t taught to deal with. Not only that, she didn’t have any help with any of it, it was almost like she was expected to just do it on her own. Until Death came along to help, but that’s not what we’re going to be talking about right now.

And also, Purgatory is Purgatory yadda, yadda, I wont insult your intelligence.

Giodine’s thought process (other than wanting to be Real Close to Sam and once that thought filtered out, promptly ignored it) was that all the extras that don’t fit in either category of their thought of good and evil they’d go to her. (doesn’t matter cause in Sam's system it filters through ‘levels of assholery’ and depending on how bad you are you either just vibe in the upper city under rule of capitalism and possibly many under paying jobs or being actually tortured for his amusement if you’re just evil. Morally grey. Anyway, it could work p well in heaven if giodine wasn’t such a damn stickler.) But in the end, every day, less and less people ended up in purgatory, leaving her with barely any people and more verbal abuse from giodine who ‘HAS to take them or they would be more dead than they already are’. You see the pain she has to go through, right?

~Idea section, this is probably not canon anyways so dont take it serious~

My thought is that another oc (BA, you may have heard of him idk) takes over simply because Purg took multiple hims from alternative timelines (which isn’t allowed but what’re they gonna do, undead a dead clown? multiple times from multiple timelines???)) because she adored him and they figured ‘well we gotta redo purgatory may as well do it like this’ and make him a demi-dead-god. i think thats a cool idea right? anyhoo

~Idea section over uwu~

Purgatory overall is a fairly timid character, she doesn’t like conflict, is easily overwhelmed, and generally keeps to herself. She doesn’t see the point in being in any drama if she’s just going to be yelled at and scolded even if it’s not about her. The only way i could describe her taking over hell is this:

She was tired. She was angry and after feeling like nothing was in control or in her hands, she snapped. Why doesn’t she get anything or get to be ‘all powerful’ but they do? She knew if she took on Giodine she’d likely get thrown to the void, but sam? He felt fair game. Considering her fear of both of these gods, she planned and got her courage up to take him over. She had considered negotiations but in the end, she ended up going into a haze and ruining everything in sight. She was more powerful than she thought and once she started, she didn't stop until Death restrained her and Sam was already in pieces at God’s doorstep.

The aftermath was fuzzy for her and for everyone really. Godine was planning a take back hell while actually worrying for sam, sam was planning for a retirement, and she was being consoled while trying to get in contact with sam to apologize. Giodine wouldn’t dare let her talk to him, until she just showed up in their office. She didn’t have a problem with Sam, honest, she just was going to take shit over, but it got out of control.

Spoiler, Sam took her apology and they actually became.. somewhat closer after reaching an understanding.

I wanna say that giodine took them being okay and sam retiring as good as sam did about purg running hell, but they didn’t. Giodine and purgatory actually barely got along in the first place, and only begun ‘working’ on their bitterness toward each other because they both had sam to encourage it. I can’t say for certain if they’ll get better, as theyre both undying and have time, but I’ll just say for now its uncertain.

Also, Death is Purgatory’s girlfriend after all of that lmao.

And.. yeah, i hope this makes sense and that you like my drawings and ramblings about my lil story in my head, i guess this is my way to develop it without just keeping it to myself cause god forbid i keep things to myself hshsh. If you made it to the end, thank you for taking the time to read and attempting to process everything, and even if you didnt read and just looked to look at my art thank you to!!

I may post some art over on @ghoulishhusbandart cause.. it was my art account before i completely forgot about it but i might reboot it! But if you wan art NEOWWW follow me on insta (ik cringe lmaoo) by the same name as this account @ghoulishhusband or just click that insta link! also ignore the fact that giodine is the only one without a portrait, maybe I’ll replace it the next time i draw but im graduating on monday and my dad’s coming TOMORROW?? so i won’t have too much time to do it... but i hope you like my art anyways :]

ok!! ty!! ily!!

#ghoulishrambles #ghoulishsporkocs #man this is weird lmaoooooo #THE CUT DIDNT CUT IM SORRY #Man I should've edited this before ppl could see it I'm so sorry if it's a mess shshhs #I keep adding tags bc I have more to say but I wanna pin this but I don't wanna remove that Palestine post just for my ramble so #I'll just reblog it every once in a while

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velnoni · 3 years

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Let Me Adore You

Commissioned for @narutos-fat-meat

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Sero Hanta

Word Count: 2.6k

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141784

Summary: “Instead of regretting what we cannot do, it is better to do what one can.” A meeting that runs against the time of death. A story about the short blossoming love between a kitsune and a dying human. Truly it’s beautiful in it’s own right.

Tags: angst, fluff, food, implied sexual interaction/intercourse, sad ending, death.

Conscious comes rather slow, sluggish like honey being squeezed out of a container. When Sero had finally woken up it wasn’t in his bed. And he wasn’t lying down but rather sitting on his knees in the nightwear he went to bed in. Beside him was a small basket he’d brought to bed with a bright yellow balloon, barely filled with air tied to the handle. He yawns loudly and blinks the sleep away before slowly rising to his feet.

Where he was a land bordering between two worlds. His world and something...entirely else. He remembers the first time he woke up here, frightened and lost as he wandered around the endless field. Green grass going miles and miles as far as the human eye could see, trees so tall and proud and lined up with impeccable symmetry that if Sero were a child he would’ve loved to sit on its sturdy branch and call out to friends below. The first time he’d had come here he was barefooted and prayed that it was all just a strange dream. It was what motivated him to keep running until bare legs touched the water of this world. What had brought him to the ocean? He didn’t know. He hadn’t even realized he was walking into the ocean until the salty seawater reached up the thighs of his scrawny limbs. The water was cold, incredibly cold. And all Sero could do was stand still and look out to the ocean that stretched far beyond the horizon.

It was heavenly and outrageously enthralling. The sky had a slash of purple rippling through the orange and pinks that decorated the air. Clouds swirled about and Sero could see the sphere of the sun in the far distance. It was as if someone had been given a paintbrush and had let their imagination run wild. The mesmerizing colors of the sky, shimmering so brightly in his onyx eyes that all Sero could do was sigh in awe. The air was crisp and clean, a far cry from the city. The building anxiety had just melted away.

“What are you doing here?” And then he’d met him. The voice, stoic and voided of life, reverberates through the air. It was slightly deep and authoritative enough to startle the meek human and caused Sero to fall in the water. Salt had filled his lungs for a few seconds before he came up for air, limbs thrashing and him gasping and snorting the water out of his system. His pajamas were stuck tight to his skin and his now wet hair obscured his vision.

He calls out “Who are you?” At the moment he didn’t get a look at the person. He was still busy gaining some proper footing. But when Sero had pushed his hair out his face with both hands he was surprised at what he saw. A kitsune, with neatly parted hair that reminded him of a candy cane. Heterochromatic eyes consisting of grey and blue, cold and stoic like his face. He was tall, taller than Sero and something about him screamed authority. There was a scar on his face that was somehow attractive in its own right and he wore a kimono dark enough to be mistaken for black with white petals adorning it spatially.

He was beautiful. Perhaps Sero would’ve enjoyed the view more if he weren’t informed that a human being so close to the shore meant that they were soon to die.

The basket bounced with each step Sero took until finally, a small traditional Japanese house came into view. If someone had told him that he started walking faster he wouldn’t deny it. It’s just that he was eager to see Todoroki that’s all. He never met a kitsune before, let alone one mysterious as him. The house was a decent size and the only thing besides land that Sero could spot, something about domains Todoroki had explained at one point. Upon reaching the house he opened the wooden gate and immediately went to the back as he did upon earlier occasions.

Peeping from behind he saw the kitsune sitting on a blanket with his eyes closed. His hands lay gently in his lap. Today he was wearing a white yukata, crisp and clean like freshly hung laundry. He looked to be at peace. A gentle breeze flows and it stirs the tranquility of his dual-colored hair. The words beautiful echo in Sero’s head as he steps forward. The soft crunching of the grass makes Todoroki’s ear visibly twitch and he slowly opens his eyes to see the scrawny human holding a basket out.

“Brought ya something.”

...

The two sat beside each other, Sero watching with dutiful eyes as the kitsune sunk his fangs into the meal he made. It was a steamed meat bun, no longer warm but just as tasty telling from the minuscule rising of Todoroki’s eyes. After spending time with him it’s gotten easier for Sero to pick out his little quirks. It made it easier to converse.

“It’s good. Thick and rich.” His Adam apple bobs when he swallows the rest of the treat down and Sero's eyes follow. His fluffy tails, four of which Sero found peculiar (Todoroki had explained he’s still young) poofed up and swayed as Todoroki stares down at him in expectation. The raven hair laughs, joyful and uncaring, and sets out another plate. The yellow balloon attached to the handle steadily grows as the two spend the night together. They talk about trivial things, mostly Sero taking and Todoroki humming but very much immersed in the conversation about his mundane life. Sero doesn’t miss how Todoroki leers at him when he talks about one of his friends. It puts him on edge but in all honesty, he already has one foot in the door.

When the yellow balloon is round and succulent, ready to pop he bids Todoroki a goodbye with a promise to bring the recipe on his next visit.

Todoroki is hesitant when Sero wags the strange pastry in front of him. The spices were strong and the wet, white, and gooey sugary substance dribbled down the sides of the bread and onto Sero’s fingers. Sero had called a cinnamon bun. And it would be rude of him to not eat what his...what was Sero to Todoroki? He never truly pondered the status of their relationship. Hanta Sero was an interesting human. Even knowing that his days are counted he comes with assortments from his world just to share with someone like him. The person who would lead him to the afterlife. It left a grime taste in his mouth when he thought that way but that was reality.

The way his onyx eyes twinkled, reflecting the colors of the sea. How silly he looked completely drenched like a dog. He was interesting from the very start. His stomach rumbles.

The human looks up at him, slanted eyes and an ordinary thin smile. The cinnamon bun is still in his hands. Todoroki bows down a bit and sinks his mouth on the sugary treat, his tongue grazing the tips of Sero’s fingers, eyes staring in human as he slowly consumes the food. He pulls off slowly, his gaze heated as he swallows. Sero had long since retracted his hand, face tinged red as the fur on Todoroki’s skin.

He licks his sharp nails of the sweetness, eye crinkling a bit as he hums in content. “It’s sweet.” If it were anyone else they would think Todoroki is stating the obvious, that the way his tail puffed out was simply a coincidence and that Sero was simply just a friend.

“I-I’m glad you liked it!” So what was Sero to Todoroki?

...

The next time they ate together Sero had used the kitchen in his home, this time bringing four balloons to extend his stay. Todoroki noticed how Sero despite being a decent height for a human had to tiptoe to reach the cabinets. His shirt would ride up a bit and he could see the outline of his scapula poking. The ears upon his head twitch at the thought of wrapping his arms around Sero. Would he jump in surprise at the embrace? Would Todoroki feel the poke of his bones against his chest? Or perhaps Sero would press into his touch and allow someone like him to give him warmth. His mind is in the cloud, thinking up small scenarios as the aroma of curry fills the air. He almost goes to ask but forgets when his name is called out.

Another time he visits the sky is dark with stars in the sky. Beautiful and speckled across the heavens. He would’ve adored the sight a bit more if Todoroki wasn’t sucking his lips dry. The kiss is wet and feverish, needy and consuming Sero’s oxygen. Sharp fangs nick Sero’s tongue and a soft moan is dragged out with little effort before Todoroki is gently shoved off. There's frustration in his eyes at being disturbed.

“Didn’t think you would be so forward Todoroki ~” the teasing of his voice earns him an uncharacteristic huff and the beautiful trails behind the kitsune flare a bit. “Is it wrong to claim what’s mine?” And although the words were flattering Sero wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind to the predator like stare Todoroki sent him when he thought he was looking. How Todoroki almost swallowed his finger whole. The purrs he lets out when Sero combs his tail. He was sure that there would have to be strong trust between a kitsune and the other for their tail to be touched. Like an honor or something. But at the same time, it felt like Todoroki was holding himself from enjoying. Well, at least tonight was a change of pace.

“No. Not at all” he finally answered. Just how much time did he have left? His brows furrow in disdain but he snaps out of his when he feels his shorts being tugged down.

“Pay attention.” Shouto shifts himself upward to loosen his yukata, the fabric slipping out in a lewd manner. There was low rumbling in Shouto’s chest as pins Sero down. He was sure at some point he had lost consciousness after what happened.

Sero wondered idly the next day that if they were in his house would the neighbors hear him scream.

...

“So why did you live all alone here?” This time a green balloon was attached to a tree branch as they sat together, staring outward into the pretty landscape. Their pinkies were connected, an option much preferred than full on hand-holding. Todoroki doesn’t answer, at least not at first. It takes a while to break down his walls, Sero notes for each time he visits. So instead of answering Todoroki stares into the vast scenery of yellow and orange. For a second a flash of pain filters through his eyes but it is gone before Sero notices.

His answer makes Sero laugh. A very soft and ebullient laugh that makes Todoroki’s cheeks tinge ever so delicately. It’s weaker than before.

“I guess I like to be alone.”

...

It’s two weeks till Sero’s next visit and Todoroki idly wonders if he miscalculated when Sero would pass away. And even if he did he would’ve known, he would’ve felt it. Tending to the garden by himself wasn't out of the ordinary but he missed scolding Sero for slacking off or hissing when he sometimes jumps on his back to scare the poor yokai. When he finally saw Sero trekking up the hill no he did not pounce him and no he didn’t nuzzle into his chest. Todoroki was not on the verge of crying...although he did like it immensely when Sero coos at how cute he was. It was a rare sight, a large fox-like creature straggling in the lap of a sick human. He didn’t even notice the plastic wristband on Sero’s arm.

Fate was fickle and mocking at its victim was it not?

...

“You smell strange.”

“Yeah, the hospital got a strange smell. Bunch of old people and chemicals and stuff.”

“You look tired.” Someone yawns. “I guess I am.”

“Would you care to rest beside me?”

“...I don’t think I'll be coming back here.”

“I know. It’s my job to guide you across the ocean and I’ll fulfill it to the end.”

“Hanta.” He gets a strange look. “Call me Hanta.” “Then call me Shouto.”

...

A bunch of balloons, so many with messages and with flowers that Shouto immediately recognizes when Hanta wakes up by the shore. The calling was already having the human walk in the shivering waters. He swallows the lump in his throat. People die all the time, it's normal.

He’s led so many people across the shore but never once had a human fed him as Hanta did. Laughed when there was nothing to laugh about. Asked questions that he’d no doubt not get an answer to. He never gave up. He was an ordinary person...no; an extraordinary person to Shouto. He loved him. He loved him so fucking much that it hurts, that the greedy side of him wanted to lock Hanta up in his house for good. But it wasn’t possible. It never was.

“Shouto!” He was waving at the kitsune. Hanta wore a smug smile on his face, the hospital gown fluttering just above the water. His hair was neatly combed down and Todoroki fought the urge to kiss his forehead. Instead, he stood a few steps away on the sand, arms full of flowers. He stares and stares at Sero with a gloomy emanation. He finally understood his resolve. How could he not realize it? “Hanta I love you.”

“I love your cooking, how you laugh, your eyes—everything!” His cheeks felt warm. Warm like when Hanta had first kissed his cheek. Warm like how the food filled his growling stomach. Burning like their night of passion. He blabbers on, more vocal and more vulnerable than he’s ever been in centuries. “I love you. So so much...I didn’t want to say it because I knew this would happen! I was lonely but you changed that.” There’s a crack in his voice when he confesses. The swarm of regret and insecurities, the love he held for this human. He has so many secrets he wishes to share with Hanta. If only they had more time.

He steps into the water, careful not to get his clothes wet but it backfires when Sero drags him in, laughing and snorting when he falls headfirst. “About time you said it! I was waiting for like forever!” Shouto rises from the water, tails, and ears flatten down as he looks up at Sero. Under the bags of his eyes, he could see them crinkle with blissful happiness and content. How melancholic was this moment indeed? Just like those few months back when they first met. Only this time it was Hanta pushing Shouto’s hair out of his face to leave a very long and loving kiss on hips pretty lips. It was sweeter than any cinnamon bun, lovelier than the times they spent in bed, and painful too.

It was breathtaking. Shouto’s tails were sagging in the water and his knees were going numb from the cold but he minds it not. When they pull away for air Hanta is rubbing his fingers across the ugly scar on his face.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

So what was Sero to Todoroki?

His first love.

Instead of regretting what we cannot do, it is better to do what one can.

Author Note: A few things I’d like to mention. I had to rewrite this so many times because it just wasn’t clicking. The first idea was for Todoroki to eat Sero’s heart and fall in love with him but I didn’t like it. The balloons and the ability to meet someone in a dream is a reference to xxxHolic. By bringing or taking stuff in the dream world it’ll appear or disappear in the real world and vice versa. In the series, it was said that the balloon held dreams so I went okay this time the balloons symbolize how long you can stay in the dreamland. When the person awakens the balloon pops. Lastly, the shore was a reference to Toilet Bound Hanako Kun.

Finally, that last quote was by Yuuko Ichihara, a character from xxxHolic. I’m really glad that this commission gave me free will and I hope y’all enjoyed the somber ending as I did.

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha todoroki #todoroki shoto #shoto torodoki #sero hanta #hanta sero #bnha sero #mha sero #mha todoroki #bnha rarepairs #todoroki x sero #sero x todoroki

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spookytsubaki · 4 years

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Dream a little dream of me

HejHej! @babes-week prompt No.2 (Dream) is late as hell, but now you can read a short bit of a long term rp fic planned out by Me and BugBreaths on Archive of Our Own.

So without further ado, here is an excerpt of Dream a little dream of me.

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The house was quiet. Not a peep coming from anyone. Yet as everyone rested so peacefully, Lydia was plagued with a fitfull sleep. It had been a few weeks since the hellish wedding. Which left everyone, including herself, baffled with how quickly it all ensued. However, the thing that stuck with Lydia most, was a certain ghost. Ratted yellow hair, with moss to decorate the ends, a gravelly voice that she could feel rumble so close to her at some point, eyes that held truly evil plans, all of which she was so much more intrigued by.

Ever since that night, she had mostly been okay. Well, okay was an overstatement. She was getting by. She had Adam and Barbara around, her father and Delia seemed to continue business as usual, and she…. was doing fine. At least that’s what she wanted to believe. These remembrances in her subconscious state barely ever truly bothered her, but when they did, she was left with even more yearning for answers as to why everything happened. As to why she was the one to be married.

Tonight however, the dreams seemed different.

She was once again in that god-awful red tulle monstrosity that was her wedding dress, her hair done neatly, everything done to a tee. But something felt off. The room around her wasn’t her own. To be completely honest, she wasn’t sure where she was. And where was he? In all her other dreams, he was there, just ready to say their vows and be bound through and afterlife. But this time, he wasn’t. She was alone, sitting on some stiff black lacquer chair, veil over her pale face. Waiting.

The ghost with the most had been sleazing around the old model for a few weeks, after all, Juno threw him back here. Stupid old hag. So far, he had been rather bored besides watching his lovely bride. Well, not exactly watching perse. Maybe he had been sneaking into her dreams and going along with the whole scene. After all, if he was on house arrest, he had to at least try and find some action. Tonight though, he had a different thought in mind. He knew what he wanted from Lydia, and having some fun in her dream wouldn't be too bad. Then again he didn't care if it was good or bad.

As Betelgeuse made his way into her dream he saw her there all dressed up sitting on the chair waiting. Perfect. With a snap ghost was no longer in his striped suit but his red velvet one. He lit a cigarette before making his way over to her, with a free hand he grabbed her chin and looked into her eyes.

"Well, well, well... look at what we have here, nothin' but a little bitch waiting to get fucked. Dressed up all fer me?" He croaked, a deep raspy laugh leaving him. He ran his calloused thumb along her smooth red bottom lip.

The way she almost flinched away from him made him even more excited for what he had planned for his lovely little bride. "Now why don't we see what's under that little dress o’ yours..." he watched how she tried to resist. He grabbed her. “Hey, hey. No strugglin’ m’kay? It’s not like it’s gonna stop me, I’m seein’ either way.” he growled as he reached behind the petite girl, unzipping the dress rather quickly.

What he was greeted with was like heaven. "Fuck.. I knew you were a goth little bitch, but I didnt think yer bra would be black and lace." One of his large hands pawed at her breast and gave a small squeeze. "Maybe next time you shouldn't wear anything underneath, I'd like that a lot more, kid. Ya wanna be good now, dontcha?"

Lydia saw her husband come out of one of the darkness that had practically engulfed her. Dressed in the same sort of red, a cigarette between his mossy lips. Immediately, she felt herself go rigid. Sure she had seen him before, but this display of such outward dominance surprised her. He seemed to be enjoying making a little show of this.

Why did this all feel so real? Why couldn’t she wake up? She felt trapped, to be used in any way he pleased. She was only drawn from his thoughts when he spoke up, a deep chuckle leaving him. She was waiting for him it seemed, she couldn’t argue with that. As he ran his rough thumb against her lips, she jumped-unaccustomed to his chilled touch, before drawing in a small shaky breath.

As he went for her dress, she instinctively moved away. Well, tried to, before she could do anything, he had grabbed her. His warning and grip made it very clear that she wasn’t getting away that easily. She gave in, thinking it was for the best. She couldn’t scream, she was easily much smaller than him, and if she was being truly honest, she wasn’t sure what she wanted at the moment. Maybe this would help set her straight.

She felt the dress fall away as he unzipped it, leaving her to contend with the cool air. She shivered, going to cover herself for modesty, but her own arms felt stuck, rigid against the chair. He groped at her bosom (despite her claims there was nothing there, he seemed to be enjoying it) and chastised her about her undergarments. She couldn’t say anything. It was then that she realized she couldn’t do much of anything, she was stuck here, with him, unable to fight off any advances.

She obidiently and somewhat bashfully looked down, her own body giving in to arousal. She let him feel every bit of her, watching the cigar burn ceaselessly. She prayed that little ash wouldn’t end up on her almost nude body, as she knew those burns would hurt quite a bit. Even if this was a dream, she didn’t wanna tempt it.

The way she tried to move made him excited, his pants becoming tighter as he watched her. Seeing her so helpless and tied up was almost like a dream. Oh wait it was a dream. He let his fingers carelessly trail her pale skin. That's when a thought came to his mind, he pulled the cigar out of his mouth before putting it near her collar bone almost carelessly yet he knew what he was doing. Slowly he pressed the gray part into her skin and held it there. He listened to the small whimpers that left her and let out a dark laugh.

After leaving the cigar on her for a few minutes he pulled it away and looked at the nice mark he left on her. “Guess ya belong to me now ya little bitch.” The ghost said before leaving another mark on her, then another before he finally was satisfied with what he did to her. This was only the beginning though. He threw the cigar aside then started to take off her black lace bra. “Would ya look at that, you actually have fucking tits. I think I heard ya complain about how small they are.” With a rough hand he grabbed one and gave it a rather hard squeeze before squeeze that small pink bud. He watched the way her body moved for him.

“You fuckin’ little slut. Look at ya already wantin’ more.” With another rough movement he yanked her black lace panties down. “Would ya look at that, this little thing is already wet.” He said holding the panties up to his nose. “Mmm ya can even smell it.” He threw them down before kneeling down and spreading her legs. “Already dripping for me too huh?”

He let his grimy fingers rub against that one little sensitive spot, a grin on his face. The look in his eye was almost predatory as he started to rub her a bit more rough, he couldn't be gentle with his little bitch.

As she saw the cigar inch closer to her unblemished skin, she tried so hard to squirm away. She wanted to protest, to yell in pain as she felt the hot ash burn upon her skin, but no shriek or cry came, only a soft whimper. Her eyebrows creased and she bit her lip so much so that she was sure she tasted blood. His comment made her want to snap back, yet she couldn’t. She couldn’t deny the fact that she was his, after all, the gilded black wedding band on her ring finger proved that much.

He left one more mark, making her arch towards him (or some lame attempt to) to try and stop the pain. With one careless flick, the cigar was on the floor, and she was left, laid out like a meal for him. He stripped her of her lacy bra, making her want to cover up almost immediately. As he grabbed her bare chest now, she was beside herself, a mix of pleasure and pain. At long last, she could at least make some sounds. Another small moan came from her pursed lips as he abused her nipples. She yearned for some relief. She needed him.

She noticed she gained a bit more control with her movements and voice as they went. And figuring he had some control over it, she let him take the lead, with his degrading compliments- a paradox at it’s finest, his smug grin, and his predatory look, she decided it was all for the best.

She flushed at his accusation, yet she couldn’t deny it. She knew that she was aroused as ever, and that she needed some satisfaction or she’d wake up hot and bothered, so at long last, she surrendered her dignity to him. He took her panties and took in her scent (something she would normally question, but she let him take the lead.) before making those little comments of how clear it was that she wanted him. Once again, it was something she couldn’t deny.

As he rubbed her clit gently, she groaned in pleasure and soon found her voice “Beetlejuice…” she murmured, arching towards him, as he started to get a bit more aggressive with his ministrations, she tried to comprehend her feelings. She had to admit, she was mostly new to this ordeal, and she craved more of him. She knew that much. She spread her legs more for him, wanting whatever he could give her in the heat of the moment.

Those grimey fingers tried to spread her open more as he took in the sight, he found her absolutely delicious. How tight he could tell she was, the semi-new soft patch of raven hair that grew down there gave away the fact that she hadn’t even let the thought of doing anything come to her. He licked his lips finding his lovely little bride hot as hell. Once again his grimey finger barely pushed into the small tight hole and he felt her clench around it. “Look at ya, so tight and new to this. Don’t worry babes, I'll change that for ya.” Without another word he shoved in three fingers and felt her clench up once again. Yet he continued to push them in until he couldn't anymore.

“Now be a good little slut like I know ya can be and don’t clench, or Ill make this painful as fuck for you. Then again that wouldn't be so bad, havin, ya a cryin’ and beggin’ for me to stop.” He let out a small dark laugh as he moved his finger in and out in a rather rough motion. Maybe he should have gone into her dream sooner, this was amazing. He loved his little Lydia unable to do anything to stop him. Nothing could stop him.

“Maybe if you cum when I tell ya to I’ll actually give you something you want. Knowing your little virgin ass though you won't be able to do that.’’ He almost challenged as he curled his fingers and tried to overstimulate her in some way. He loved how warm she felt around his fingers, that's when he moved them in a certain way and hit that one little sweet spot.

The ghost decided to add more to her pleasure, with his free hand he grabbed her breast once again and placed his mouth around her nipple. He bit down slightly hard before pulling as he let go. He repeated his action with her other breast, then switched between the two. The rough movement still continued with his fingers, his thumb moving to her clit and rubbing it.

As he crammed a finger in, she grimaced in pain. She knew it would hurt, but she didn’t think it would be like this. She moaned ever so slightly as he started to try and stimulate her through the pain. Her hips jerked involuntarily at his rapid, rough movements. As he shoved two more into her, she yelped, feeling as if this was the worst pain she would ever experience. “It hurtsss” she blubbered, trying to move her hands to slow him down. But once again, she was stuck.

As he got more heated, he pushed her further and further. His warning seemed to hold no joking manner so she tried to take it. She opened her eyes to see him leering at her. Something that intimidated her beyond belief. She only saw that look a few times, the wedding being the most memorable. She knew she was in for a whirlwind with this dream, so the least she could do would be trying to take it.

She wanted to try to please him the best she could. That was new. She wanted to be good for him. Her small body had arousal building up more and more, burning in her abdomen. But as he hit that one spot, she cried out in pleasure, all of it getting to be too much for her. As he continued these movements, he went back to her breasts, suckling on them and nipping at them- the cool sensation making them harden quickly once again. She knew she was so close to hitting her own climax as she canted her hips against his hand. Her face contorted with pleasure as he overstimulated her waif-like body.

And soon enough, just as she was about to hit her first high, head on, she was jolted awake. She groaned and sat up, feeling a bit of sweat pin her deep purple shirt in place. She was left with so many questions. Too many. Was he back? Was he coming for her? Was he angry? All of these answers she hoped she would get soon enough.

Just as it started to get good and he knew he would have his way with her, well in her dream, he was back to being the invisible ghost hiding in the corner. A pissed groan came from him as he clenched his fists. “Little fucking bitch.” He mutters to himself, annoyed as ever. He could have fucked her in her dream! With a sigh he pulled out one of his cigarettes and lit it before taking a long drag.

He blew out the smoke with ease as he had many thoughts going through his mind. Soon he would get her, and next time it wouldn't be in a dream. He knew that for sure.

#babesweekjuly2020 #babesweek #BeetleBabes #don't let the bastards get you down #babes #Beetlejuice x Lydia #Beetlejuice and Lydia #beetlejuice animated series #beetlelyds #beetz #beetledeetz #ships #quick drabble #drabble #fanfic #enjoy

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despairforme · 4 years

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𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚂𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙳𝙳𝙻𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂

tagged by: @megumua-eaglearchcorp-2lotte ( thank you for tagging me! )

tagging: @elxfi , @dokvhana , @grimmjxw , @megumua-eaglearchcorp-2lotte ( ryo ) , @scrpent @lizardmuses ( emil ).

1. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?

Nnoitra’s natural scent isn’t as strong as he would LIKE it ( strong smell = macho in his mind ). That’s simply because he doesn’t sweat much. If he’s been exerting himself, and especially if he has been running, he’ll have a stronger body smell. On a daily basis, Nnoitra smells like his deodorant, a really cheap one that has some random perfume. His hair smells like his shampoo ( he forgets to buy a new one for himself so he’ll often use Grimmjow’s shampoo ). His clothes ( when clean ) smell of the cheap detergent that they use for their laundry.

2. WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE?

Nnoitra has large, bony hands with prominent veins and scarred knuckles. His fingers are skinny. Because he doesn’t really use his hands for much rough work, his skin isn’t as rough as he would like it to be. He always wraps his hands and wears gloves when he fights. His fingertips are sharp and can sometimes have a rougher texture. His knuckles are almost always torn, and he has permanent scars on them. The skin here has a rougher texture than the rest of his hands. In winter, his hands are somewhat dry, but not to the point of his skin getting flaky. Compared to how Nnoitra would’ve liked his hands to feel like, they are on the softer side. Nnoitra’s hands are always warm.

3. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY?

Anything. Nnoitra wakes up a good few hours before Grimmjow. If there are any left-overs from the night before in the fridge ( there hardly ever is ), he’ll eat that and then go back to bed. If not, he’ll go out and buy himself lunch. Nnoitra often goes for fast-food options, and he often eats Chinese food. If he’s buying himself breakfast, he goes for the “breakfast menu” at whatever fastfood joint he’s at, which means he gets a large and unhealthy breakfast. Nnoitra’s lunch is usually Grimmjow’s breakfast, and Nnoitra will bring back food for his boyfriend - and then steal a good portion of it -. Dinner is usually a heat-up meal, a microwave meal, or canned food ( since neither Nnoitra or Grimmjow can cook ). They will typically heat up a 4 person meal, and Nnoitra will eat the majority. Nnoitra doesn’t snack every day, but if he does, he’s snacking, it’s because he’s bought something on sale. Potato chips, pastries, cookies, chocolate, candy, ice cream - he’s got a big sweet tooth. After dinner, he goes to work, and if he’s feeling hungry on his way home, he’ll buy himself some spring-rolls ( that he sometimes manages to save til next day ). Nnoitra’s diet is very unhealthy but high in calories. Nnoitra needs a diet with lots of calories because of his metabolism.

4. DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE?

Surprisingly, yes. Nnoitra’s voice has a pretty broad specter, as he can bring it up surprisingly high ( though it’s extra raspy up there ). His normal voice is deep and hoarse, making his singing-voice a bit growly. Nnoitra’s voice claim is Nobutoshi Canna, and not his dub actor. Nnoitra is not a fan of singing, since he sees singing as a ‘ happy ‘ thing, and he simply isn’t that sort of person. However, when he’s in a good mood and listening to some rad music, he might sing along. TALKING . SINGING .

5. DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS?

Nnoitra’s nervous tick is that he scratches his ribs or his collar bone. When he’s very uncomfortable, he’ll tug his fingertips under his ribs and pull them outward, as if to crack them. He’ll also occasionally pick on the scars on his knuckles, but this is more a sign of boredom than anything else. As for bad habits? He drags his feet when he walks, and slouches pretty badly when he’s feeling down ( which is a lot of the time ). He also grits his teeth a lot, often without realizing it.

6. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE, WEAR?

Nnoitra’s most prominent features are his height, and his eye-patch. Nnoitra has got a narrow, rather long face. His chin is pointy, his lips thin and his mouth wide. He’s got a habit of wearing a pretty hostile expression, with his big, white teeth showing. His single visible eye is stormy grey like the clouds in a thunderstorm. His eye is narrow, and tilted at an angle. Nnoitra’s appearance is ‘ Asian ‘ in some ways ( since he is part Chinese ), but he also have more western features. His nose is pointy and he’s got prominent cheekbones. He’s got a long, skinny neck with blue veins and his adam’s apple is clearly visible. Nnoitra is pale, so any imperfections/marks on his skin are easy to spot. Nnoitra’s neck appears less skinny than it really is, because of his long hair. It also hides the fact that his face is rather narrow, making it appear wider. Nnoitra’s hair is usually pretty clean, and in winter he wears it down. In summer he’ll put it up in a messy bun, because it’s simply too warm to wear it down.

Nnoitra wears shabby clothes. He has incredibly broad shoulders ( even for his height, they are broad ), and so it’s hard for him to find clothes that fit. He tends to get his clothes from shops that sell clothes for morbidly obese people, because these are the only t-shirts/shirts that will actually fit him. Because of his skinny body, the t-shirts always look very wide and baggy on him. He usually chooses discreet, dark colors. Black and grey are his go-to, but he also wears red, blue, military green and occasionally yellow. He’s not a fan of bright greens, pinks or purple and won’t wear these colors. He prefer to wear hoodies, but in winter he has a big, black coat that he also wears. Nnoitra likes clothes that are comfortable, easy to move in - and that hide his skinny frame. Finding pants that fit him is really hard, so he only has a few pairs which he has used to death. They are very warn out and torn. They fit him pretty well, but do look a bit saggy ( especially behind, since Nnoitra’s ass is flat ). He wears socks ( whichever ones are clean-ish ), and his big army boots, with a slight heel. These too are very worn out.

For accessories, Nnoitra always wears his large eye-patch that covers a good portion of his face. He also wears six leather bracelets, three around each wrist. Again, they are worn out.

7. IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE? HOW MUCH? HOW SO?

Verbally? No. Nnoitra has a hard time expressing his emotions, regardless of which emotion he’s feeling. He’s especially bad at telling his boyfriend he loves him. He somehow feels like it’s tacky and lame. He also sees it as weak and ‘ girly ‘ to talk about his feelings. It always takes a lot out of him to say affectionate things. He’s less stressed out about giving compliments, and these are more or less his go-to when it comes to verbal affection. It’s much easier for him to admit that he thinks Grimmjow LOOKS good, rather than expressing his love for him. When it comes to being verbally affectionate, Nnoitra’s most affectionate moments happen during - and after - sex. These are the times he’s most likely to tell Grimmjow that he loves him. He’ll also usually return affection, so if Grimmjow is the first one to say ‘ I love you ‘, he’ll say it back.

It’s much easier for Nnoitra to be physically affectionate, and his love-language is definitely on the physical side of things. While he’s not big on public affection ( he won’t even hold Grimmjow’s hand ), he does get affectionate in private. Nnoitra’s ultimate form of affection is kissing. This is how he expresses his love and devotion. He will often pull Grimmjow close or lean down to kiss him. He also likes to touch him. Mostly it’s just casual, like a hand in his hair. He’s not one to hold back when they are alone though, so if he wants to pull him into his lap and hold him? He’ll do that. To Nnoitra, sex is another way of expressing affection ( if it’s done right ), so him pleasuring Grimmjow is a way for him to show that he loves him ( since Nnoitra under normal circumstances wouldn’t care about his partner’s pleasure ).

Other forms of affection that Nnoitra can display come across because he thinks about Grimmjow ALL the time. If he sees a cat while he’s out? He’ll think: Grimmjow would like this cat, and he’ll take a snap of it and send it to Grimmjow. If he’s buying himself some candy? He’ll buy some sour ones for Grimmjow. He makes sure there is always coffee and cat food so that Grimmjow won’t have to worry about these things.

8. WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN?

If he sleeps alone ( which he never does ), Nnoitra has a habit of sleeping on his stomach. It comes from an unconscious need to protect his vital organs. He’s a very light sleeper, and doesn’t move much while asleep. This is a good thing because of his hair, which could get stuck under him and the tugging could wake him up if he moves around too much. When he sleeps with Grimmjow, he usually sleeps on his back ( he feels much more comfortable when he’s sleeping with Grimmjow ), and his boyfriend will have his face buried in the crook of his neck, or he’ll be resting his head on his chest. Nnoitra tends to tangle his legs with Grimmjow’s while they sleep, and he usually has a hand in the other’s hair. Grimmjow sometimes wakes Nnoitra up during the night with snoring. Nnoitra doesn’t snore ( if he did, he would wake himself up all the time ).

9. COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM?

Not normally. Nnoitra moves quietly ( which means he can sometimes sneak up on Grimmjow and startle him ), and he talks at a normal level unless he’s raising his voice. Nnoitra’s deep, hoarse voice goes in somewhat of a monotone so it’s not easy to hear it from a distance. That being said - Nnoitra can speak loudly when he’s annoyed or excited.

#[ i think i've done this before but MAN i love talking about nnoitra so ]#[ DONT MIND IF I DO ]#[ thank you for tagging me! ]#[ tagging you right back bc i wanna see ryo's stats 8) ]#[ hope that's ok! ]#ᵃ ᵗᵒᵇʸ ᵖᵒˢᵗ ;; ooc.#ᵇᵘʳᶰ 'ᵈᵃ ᶜᶤᵗʸ ;; verse.#longpost //#ᵍʳᵃᶠᶠᶤᵗᶤ ;; dash games.

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emmerrr · 6 years

Note

41 pynch!!

41:“Is this seat taken?”

these prompts could get really tedious if i do them all in canon-verse settings, but this one lends itself wonderfully to an AU, so here, have an alternative meeting. i hope that’s okay! :)

(also i got so carried away with this oops, these are supposed to be DRABBLES)

Adam slipped through the train doors just as they were closing and had to stand with his hand on the safety bar just to catch his breath for a moment. He hated, hated having to run for the train.

When he was fairly certain he could now move again without feeling like his heart might explode, he began to make his way down the carriage in search of a seat.

Normally, he’d put up with just standing, but not today. It had been one of those Days with a capital ‘D’, when everything that could go wrong did go wrong, and Adam had worked through his lunch-break and then stayed late to try and get back on track.

He was exhausted.

The train was relatively full, and whilst there were a few unoccupied seats, a lot of people had put their bags up next to them in a most uninviting manner, and Adam didn’t particularly want to engage.

Finally, he spotted a free aisle-seat. The guy in the window-seat was probably around Adam’s age, and he was wearing a beat-up leather jacket and black jeans so distressed that Adam couldn’t tell if they were supposed to look like that or if they’d accidentally been put through a shredder. He had expensive looking headphones around his neck and not covering his ears, the tinny beat of what sounded like shitty EDM faintly audible. He was also wearing what looked like a permanent scowl on his face, but the seat beside him was completely empty, and it would do.

“Is this seat taken?” Adam asked politely when he drew level. The guy looked at Adam, then at the seat, then back at Adam before finally shrugging and turning his head to look out of the window.

Adam just about resisted rolling his eyes and slid into the seat, muttering, “Thanks.”

“It’s a free-country,” his new seat-mate said without looking at Adam, his voice dripping with boredom.

“In theory,” Adam replied mildly, dropping his head back against the headrest as he tried to get comfortable. He heard a small huff of what might have been amusement, but when he glanced to the right, his neighbour was still staring steadfast out of the window, his expression surly in the reflection.

He was actually quite annoyingly good-looking. Not that Adam was paying attention of course. Just…objectively.

Fuck, Adam was staring. And he was tired. He crossed his arms and slumped a little lower in the seat, hoping the guy hadn’t noticed.

His eyes drooped a couple of times, and Adam valiantly fought to keep them open. He could sleep when he got home. He just needed to stay awake for the rest of his twenty minute train journey. Easy.

…Or not.

Adam came to slowly, dimly aware he had no idea where he was. His cheek was leaning against something hard, and his mouth was slack; he’d possibly been drooling slightly. Fantastic, he’d fallen asleep.

He yawned and blinked a couple of times, not yet willing to lift his head.

“Y’know,” said a rumbling voice, “it seems like you should at least tell me your name before you fall asleep on me, but I guess we’re past that now.”

Adam jerked upright, absolutely mortified. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he said, covering his face with his hands. There was a perfect indent of the shoulder seam of the stranger’s jacket on Adam’s cheek, and he slowly dragged his hands away from his face, hoping he wasn’t as red as he felt. Hesitantly, he said, “Adam Parrish.”

The guy smirked. “Ronan Lynch.” It suited him.

Something oddly pleased settled in Adam at now having a name to put to this face. At the very least, Ronan didn’t seem annoyed that Adam had been sleeping on his shoulder for God knows how long.

“Oh fuck,” Adam said suddenly, leaning across Ronan to look out of the window and try and figure out where they were. He could immediately tell that he’d gone too far, and let out a groan just as an overhead announcement called out the next stop, which was three along from where Adam should have gotten off.

“Fuck,” he reiterated, sitting back in his seat. “I missed my stop.”

“That sucks,” Ronan said, unconcerned.

Adam whirled on him. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Who just lets a stranger sleep on them on a train?”

Ronan shrugged. “I dunno, man, you seemed, like, really fucking tired.”

Adam pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d let this happen. “I am really fucking tired, and I’m going to be even more tired by the time I finally get home.”

He’d have to get off at the next stop and then wait for the next train going the other way which — Adam checked his watch and groaned again — wouldn’t be for another hour.

“Hey, Ad—Parrish,” Ronan said, rubbing a hand over the back of his shaved head. He looked a little awkward and it was endearing somehow; it helped to saw some of the edges off Adam’s irritation. “This is my stop, and I only live down the road from the station. I can borrow my brother’s car and drop you off wherever you’re going, save you waiting for another train.”

“I—you’d do that?” Adam asked, surprise colouring his tone.

Ronan shrugged again. “Well, yeah. I kinda feel fuckin’ responsible now.”

Adam shook his head. “Don’t, it was my fault, not yours. You really don’t have to.”

“I know that,” Ronan said, then he rolled his eyes. “I’m offering though. Take it or fucking leave it, Parrish.”

Adam hesitated, everything he’d ever learned about stranger danger at school flashing through his mind. But he couldn’t deny there was something about Ronan that seemed innately trustworthy. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d offer his help unless he really meant it.

Plus Adam really, really didn’t want to wait for another train.

“That would be great, as long as you’re sure it’s not a problem,” Adam said. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s fine, Parrish.” He nudged Adam in the arm. “Get up, stop’s coming up.”

Adam hoisted himself out of the seat and led the way down the aisle towards the doors just as the train slowly drew to a stop. They stepped out in silence, the chilly October air setting in quickly after being in a warm train. Adam pulled his jacket tighter around him.

Ronan shot him a quick look. “It’s not far,” he said, and Adam nodded.

It was harder to know what to say now they were out of the train. He searched his mind for something— anything — to talk about, but all he could come up with were stereotypical small-talk conversation starters. He got the impression Ronan wasn’t much of a small-talk kind of guy.

It didn’t matter anyway, because when Ronan had said it wasn’t far, he really meant it. They hadn’t been walking quite five minutes when they stopped beside a modest-sized house that had a sporty yellow Subaru in the driveway.

Ronan took his house keys out of his pocket and got the front door open, waving Adam inside.

“C’mon in for a sec, I gotta grab the car keys anyway.”

Adam followed him inside and shut the door behind him, but then hovered awkwardly near the door as Ronan walked further into the house. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and called up, “Matty, I’m taking your car, I’ll be back in a bit.”

There was an unintelligible shout in response and then a thump as someone started thundering down the stairs.

“What?” said an approaching voice. “What’s wrong with your car?”

A boy appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a few years younger than Adam was; maybe late teens, early twenties. He was very clearly related to Ronan, although he looked softer in almost every conceivable way. His eyes landed on Adam and he smiled widely. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hello,” Adam said, returning the smile as politely as possible.

“Are you a friend of Ronan’s?”

Adam looked at Ronan helplessly. Ronan shrugged in exasperation and then gazed skyward as if praying for help. He sighed. “This is Adam, Matthew. I just met him on the train and he missed his stop, but my car’s in the shop, which is why I need to borrow yours to take him home.”

Matthew took all this in easily enough, clearly not bothered by the fact that Ronan and Adam were practically strangers. “No worries, pal, my keys are on the hook in the kitchen. It was nice to meet you, Adam.” He turned around and headed back up the stairs.

“You too,” Adam said after him.

Ronan went to the kitchen to grab the keys, then came back out, jingled them at Adam and gestured towards the door. Adam preceded him outside and got in the passenger seat when Ronan unlocked the door.

As soon as he was settled behind the wheel, Ronan asked where Adam lived.

“Just get onto the Main Street and keep going, I’ll let you know where to turn off.”

Ronan nodded and got them moving, and for the first couple of minutes it was silent, before it became too much for Adam. Ronan was going out of his way to give Adam a lift home; the least Adam could do was not ignore him.

“What happened to your car?” he asked, and Ronan glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “You said it was in the shop.”

Ronan’s eyes flicked back to the road. “Some asshole scratched up the doors at a parking lot downtown. Getting the bodywork fixed.”

Adam winced in sympathy. Jobs like that were costly which was annoying given that they were mostly cosmetic. “That’s a pain in the ass. Know who did it?”

Ronan shook his head, and Adam let the subject die.

He took to looking out of the window, but a moment later was startled out of his own head by Ronan’s voice. “I hate getting the train.”

“Yeah, it’s a pain,” Adam said. “Saves me money though, I have a railcard. And no car.”

Ronan shook his head again, seemingly frustrated, like Adam wasn’t getting it. “I usually hate getting the train, and I don’t normally have to because I have my car, but I got it today,” he said, then glanced at Adam quickly. “Of all days.”

“…What’s your point?”

Ronan huffed a laugh. “Nothing, Parrish.” But it obviously wasn’t nothing, and a second later he continued. “The first time I have to catch a train in fucking years, and you sit next to me, fall asleep on my shoulder, drool all over my fuckin’ jacket, then miss your stop. It’s just…”

“It’s a meet-cute,” Adam supplied, then couldn’t believe the words had tumbled so easily out of his mouth. He really needed to get out of Ronan’s company before he embarrassed himself further.

Ronan snorted. “It’s a meet-something.”

“And I didn’t drool on your jacket.”

“You fucking did.”

Adam thought about it, and then he remembered and inclined his head slightly. “Maybe.”

Conversation was easier for the rest of the journey. Adam found out that Ronan worked at an art gallery in the city just a couple of blocks from Adam’s office-building, and that Matthew lived with him whilst attending the local university. He also had another brother who lived in D.C., and his mother lived on a farm back in Virginia. Ronan didn’t mention his father, and Adam knew better than to ask. It wasn’t like he’d been particularly forthcoming about his own family. Ronan had seemed to sense they were a sore subject.

Before Adam knew it, he was telling Ronan to turn off and directing him the last couple of turns before stopping outside his apartment building. Ronan put the car in park, but didn’t switch off the engine.

“Thank you, Ronan,” Adam said, his hand on the door-handle. “I really appreciate it.”

“No worries, Parrish. I should’ve woken you up, at least to check where your stop was. It’s at least a little on me.”

Adam smiled, struck by the sudden urge to lean across the middle console and kiss Ronan on the cheek. He refrained, just about.

“To be honest, I kind of enjoyed our little misadventure.” He shrugged and opened the door. “Might do it again some time.”

Just as he got out of the car, he thought he heard Ronan say, “Night, Adam,” but he was already shutting the door, and then Ronan was driving away.

Adam stood alone on the sidewalk for a moment, feeling oddly despondent. It felt anti-climactic somehow. He didn’t even have Ronan’s number. He really should have asked for it.

Feeling somewhat heavy-hearted but not surprised that he was only thinking of this now that it was too late, Adam dragged his feet up to his apartment.

He showered, ate a microwave meal in front of the TV, and then tried to get a little work done with little to no success. His mind kept getting caught up on daydreams of Ronan, and Adam soon gave up and went to bed.

Sleep should have come easy, but it didn’t.

The next day at work was easier. There were fewer disasters, fewer fires for Adam to put out. He actually got to take his proper lunch-break which made for a nice change. Although he didn’t strictly need to, he stayed late again. He told himself it was because he was just trying to get ahead of himself, but if he was completely honest with himself, he knew it was because he was trying to increase his chances of seeing Ronan again.

It was stupid. Ronan might not get the same train again, or maybe he took Matthew’s car, or maybe he had his own car back by now. There were so many variables; it felt like he was setting himself up to be disappointed and yet he couldn’t help it.

At the very least, he didn’t have to run for the train this time. He walked through two carriages with no sign of Ronan before he gave up and sat down at the next available seat.

He sat by the window and pressed his temple against it, looking out with a frown on his face and trying to rationalise his crushing disappointment.

“Is this seat taken?”

Adam turned his head so quickly he nearly got whiplash to see none other than Ronan Lynch staring down at him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’re an asshole,” Adam said, but he laughed. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“Obviously, Parrish,” Ronan said jovially, and flung himself in beside Adam. “Why so glum?”

“I’m not. Not anymore.” Adam blushed a little, but he was determined not to repeat his mistake of yesterday. He took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Ronan. “First thing’s first: Put your number in there.”

“Is this so you can call me anytime you need a lift?” Ronan said, but he was clearly joking and he dutifully typed his information into Adam’s phone.

“No,” Adam said. “It’s so I can call you to ask you out.”

Ronan smirked as he handed the phone back. “Why don’t you just ask me out now?”

“Because I’m tired and your shoulder is comfortable,” he replied simply as he got himself comfy leaning on Ronan. “For the love of all things holy, do not let me sleep through my stop.”

Adam’s eyes were closed but he could hear the smile in Ronan’s voice when he replied, “No promises, Parrish.”

#this one was so much fun #the raven cycle #pynch #tumblr prompts #trc

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jui-imouto-chan · 6 years

Text

Part 12 of the Mostly Human AU

Suggested by @manadrite —This definitely isn’t a feel good chapter, but I enjoyed writing it anyway. Actually, that makes me sound sadistic.

Oh well.

>[X]<

Connor didn’t expect to see someone different behind the counter when he went into the pet shelter at his usual time, that day.

He always comes in at the same time every week; 3:30 PM every Sunday, on the dot.

The employee usually behind the counter, named Jesse, was teasing, but kind, always making sure the animals were on their best behavior when he let them show Connor their affection.

Of course, they would be on their best behavior, anyway, so it is redundant, but Connor appreciates the sentiment.

In place of Jesse sat a young adult, approximately 23 years of age. His name tag reads, “Thomas”; he vaguely remindes him of Luther’s relative, Adam. He had about two inches on Connor, though he was leaning against the counter, making his height seem less daunting.

“Welcome,” he said, the corner of his lips quirking slightly. Connor found himself a little winded, system fan hitching.

Thomas’ voice is smooth, rich—similar to Markus’ but somehow different.

Connor explained that he usually comes in to hang out with the animals, moving his hands around this way and that before wringing them together as he fleetingly wondered about a tiny inkling of nervousness he felt when he looked at him.

The man’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at Connor, a small breath of a chuckle escaping his mouth as he led Connor to the animals.

Connor realized that he was staring at Thomas’ mouth a lot. And maybe his warm hazel eyes, too.

Connor slowly relaxes during the time he spends with the animals, almost forgetting that Thomas is in the room.

Thomas laughs lightly at Connor being tackled by one of the pups who felt like he wasn’t getting enough attention.

“So cute.” He hears Thomas say. He wonders why he fleetingly hopes that the dark-skinned man is talking about him.

He motions for the man to join him as a few more pups follow the lead of the first, stepping their way on top of him and smothering him in licks.

Connor remembers Hank telling him that it’s weird to lick a dog back, despite it being a sign of affection. He doesn’t want to look weird in front of Thomas; the thought of the other looking at him in disgust is oddly concerning.

Connor also found the male extremely attractive.

Perhaps it was the shelter uniform being well-fitting, or maybe the friendly smile and easygoing yet professional air the other had to him.

After he made a few searches online, he discovered that his antsiness and sudden fascination is a crush.

So, the next week, he’s still searching for information.

The look on his face as he reads another article explaining it must be surprised enough to warrant curiosity on Thomas’ party

Thomas pokes Connor’s forehead, causing Connor to blink out of his stupor, tilting his head in confusion and causing the curls hanging down to bounce with the motion.

Connor then notices a faint, warm buzzing in his synthetic skin where the other pressed his finger.

“You okay? You were spacing out.” Connor smiles and nods to confirm that he’s alright. “By the way, I think one of the lizards has decided that your hair is his new home.” Thomas jokes, pointing to a lizard sitting amidst Connor’s curls.

Connor lets out a meek squeak when the lizard flicks his tongue out at Connor’s ear. He pulls the lizard off and wags his finger at him mock-scoldingly.

“I’d prefer if you take me out on a date, first, Mr. Lizard!” Connor jokes. Thomas’ eyebrow raises along with a corner of his lips in Connor’s peripherals.

“Is that so? Does that offer only extend to reptiles or are mammals included, too?” Thomas asks with a bit of humor in his tone.

Connor considers for a second. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind a play date with a puppy or a kitty, that’d certainly be more than enjoyable. Yes, I’d say mammals could be included.”

“Even humans?”

Connor tilts his head. “While I wouldn’t expect one to want to go out with me, I’d still be very likely to say yes.”

“Would you say yes to grabbing a coffee with me on Wednesday, then?”

Connor smiles; his crush wants to spend time with him? Even if it’s just friendly, he’s sure an outing would make his Thirium pump beat out of his chest.

“I would.”

Thomas’ shift was at its end when Connor stands up, making sure all of the animals are in their proper places.

He walks to the counter, smiling with a small skip in his step. Excitement for Wednesday bubbles in his chest, an odd sensation that makes him run a quick check of his biocomponents.

“Does 9 am sound good? Uh, f-for Wednesday, I mean.” Thomas’ cheeks have the slightest bit of blush as he verbally stumbles the moment Connor’s eyes meet his, sparkling.

“Yes, that sounds perfect.” Connor spots a notification in his peripherals and looks down to his phone to check a text from Hank. “Ah, I’ll have to take my leave, now. I’ll see you, then!”

As soon as Connor gets home, he lifts Sumo from the floor into a bear hug and twirls a bit. Remembering that he has to cook, he quickly places the dog down after planting a kiss near his ear.

When Wednesday comes about, Connor makes sure that he follows the comfort-casual-but-appealing outfit guide from a website online that explains to him how to escape “the friend zone”.

He heads over to where he’s meeting Thomas, wearing a nice, albeit dorky, t-shirt and jeans, along with black tennis shoes. His hair is left curly, and mostly untouched, though he wears his usual beanie for when he goes out.

Thomas looks good, but Connor hasn’t seen him look bad, though he feels like it’d be impossible for him to actually look bad, in Connor’s eyes.

Thomas’ eyes widen when he sees Connor, blush creeping up his cheeks, before he turns his head and coughs, looking back and seeming composed when he smiles.

They head inside and the two of them get coffee and sweets, and by the time they leave, Thomas’ carefully crafted composure had crumbled in the slightest.

Their outing becomes a regular event each Wednesday, and Connor now has two things to look forward to every week.

Hank asks him about where he goes, but Connor just tells him he’s out with a friend.

Gosh, Connor keeps liking Thomas more and more every moment they spend together.

The other can make him laugh and smile so easily, and he is so courteous and kind.

His love of animals shows such compassion and understanding and Connor feels himself hoping that the other may like him, too.

One Wednesday, it is unexpectedly hot. Connor wears a well-fitting but informal button-up with jeans, still wearing his beanie. His systems are lagging from the heat, and he has to pant discreetly to supply his fan with enough air to cool him down.

“Man, you look like you’re burning up! Here, let’s take this off.”

Thomas reaches over the table, pushing his fingers through Connor’s hair as he gently pushes the beanie off. Connor’s eyelashes flutter and he almost purrs as he leans into the touch. Any contact with Thomas feels nice.

Thomas teases that he’s almost like one of the cats, though his voice is slightly lower than before, and his volume makes it seem more like a murmur.

He ruffles Connor’s hair, sits back down, and places the beanie on the table, asking a nearby waitress if he could order a milkshake. Connor orders an ice cream, and they’re sure to share with each other.

Though, they only have one straw, so Connor and Thomas are taking turns with the shake.

Connor takes it upon himself to feed Thomas the ice cream when the other wants some, to the darker man’s embarrassment.

When Connor tilts his head to look outside, Thomas freezes.

Connor wonders what’s wrong. Thomas doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t emote for a moment.

And then anger swirls into his expression.

“You’re an android, huh?” Thomas mutters, voice dark. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before glaring coldly at Connor, whose voice feels lodged in the synthesizer.

His LED, now visible, turns to yellow, flashing. Red is slowly trying to make its way in.

“I can’t believe I’ve been spending my time feeling attracted to a piece of plastic. You from the Eden Club? Is this a fucked up way for you to attract new customers? Were you planning to lead me to a room and then have me give you my life savings for renting your time all these weeks?”

Connor can barely manage to whisper weakly, “N-No, th-that’s—“

Connor feels the shake being spilled over his head. He can see red light shining against the liquid as it rolls down, cold seeping into his body. Something within himself drops, but he’s too stricken to do an internal check.

“I can’t believe I fell for it. Man, this hurts. I thought I finally found someone cool, but you were really just a scam. An advertisement. You’d never understand how disappointed I feel.” Thomas laughs in an unpleasant way.

“You’d never understand feelings. Go play pretend back in the red light district where you belong, Pinocchio.” And with that, Thomas leaves.

Connor’s eyes fill up with tears and he makes a run for it, storming out of the cafe all the way home.

He’s gone into his hiding space. Hank is calling out to him.

“Connor, I heard you come home, where are you?” Hank pauses beside the door. He can hear every whine, sniffle, and sob that escapes Connor’s mouth as the tears pour. “Oh, Connor, what’s wrong? Hey, buddy, c’mon, you can talk to me. It’ll be okay, just talk to me.”

“It hurts, Hank.” Connor’s voice is soft, but Hank can hear it loud and clear.

“What hurts, kid? Did someone attack you? Are you okay?”

“I w-wasn’t attacked, but. My chest, my thirium pump, my-my heart hurts.”

“Does this have to do with the ‘friend’ you’ve been seeing every week?” Hank’s voice grows gruffer.

Connor made a small noise of confirmation, shoulders shaking and LED flashing red.

Hank sighs. Connor’s hands are around his knees, and Hank tries to open the door. Connor lets him. Hank wraps Connor in a hug.

“It’ll be okay, son.”

Connor sniffles into his shoulder, burrowing into Hank’s embrace for comfort.

“It’ll be okay.” Hank repeats, more to himself this time.

When Connor enters sleep mode in his arms, Hank cleans his boy up, then places him in his bed, cocooned in blankets. He calls up Kara, Markus, Kamski, and the Twins.

The person who hurt his boy is going to face the consequences.

Next Level: Any New Suggestions + Anything I come up with while writing!

X | Continue to Next Level

O | Save Progress And Quit to Main Menu

—————————————- •

This one took a while; sorry for the wait!

Leave suggestions in my asks and in the comments! Feel free to ask questions, talk with me, anything!

I’m down to write Headcanons for things outside of this AU, and if you want me to write shorts with Connor paired with someone, I’m willing to do so! (NSFW isn’t out of the question 😉)

#connor rk800 #connor detroit become human #connor #connor dbh #hank dbh #hank and connor #detroit hank #dbh hank #hank anderson #Jui’s Mostly Human AU

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thesylvalining · 7 years

Text

Back in the US, one of the first things I usually notice is the freaking roads are huge. It’s one symptom of reverse culture shock, to be sure and surreal is the key word. Then experiences like this happen which assure me yes, I have returned:

Two nights ago…

Benjamin (my gorgeous uncle): I think we left a bag of stuff at Walmart.

Me: Oh no! We should go back for it. But I’m in my pajamas…

Benjamin: So? It’s Walmart…

Me: Good point.

Dorothy, I am definitely not in Kansas (Italy) anymore, where leaving the house in PJs is socially uncouth. So where am I exactly? Colorado. “Home” but not home. If you haven’t seen Rudy Mancuso’s hilarious “Gosh Bless You” video please do so now so you understand the rest of this paragraph. Although I know there’s someone out there in particular who will appreciate this… it’s like I’m somewhere between Heck and Kevin. I am so grateful and excited to see friends and family but simultaneously, it’s a quasi-thank Gosh moment–mostly because I’m never, ever ready to depart Italy. So at least for now, it goes along with ping-pong balls that don’t bounce and having to stand pretty much all the time… 😉

Anyhow, I’m already on my next adventure before finishing my last. What a sin! So, let me redeem myself by catching us all up…

Day Five: Dobbiaco-Big Hike-Dobbiaco

Morning light shone on Tent City, illuminating the rare slivers of un-camped upon grass and a certain silver van housing the newest member of Operation Vacation: Loic! The door cracked, revealing a fancy black and red road bike. The morning sun glinted off three sharp butcher knives which came with their own set of jokes about Loic being either a Belgian master chef and/or a friendly murderer.

Either way, we welcomed him at our shanghai’d picnic table for breakfast. Finally the day broke chilly but with a promise of ample sun as the day progressed. Perfect set up for a long @$$ hike (for Lisa and I) and a million kilometer bike ride (for Loic).

After parting ways, Lisa and I hopped on our steeds and rode several kilometers on dirt to the start of a trail that only climbed, oh, 2000 meters. However, it was swallowed heartily by the massive landslide like a college kid chugging beer. A big yellow bulldozer parked at the trailhead told us–in so many words–to figure something else out. We pulled out our well-worn map and located number 33, which also marched straight up a mountain like a bighorn sheep on crack. Done!

On the trail, sweat began to swiftly collect and cascade down our bodies as if they were fast-melting Popsicles. We soon found ourselves teetering high above the valley floor, the sound of the roaring highway below lowering to a stubborn drone. After awhile we took a break at a high alpine spring to fill up and let things air out…

After a couple hours of steep, steady climbing the trail finally attempted a semblance of flatness. At the end of the day, the undeniably steep route on Lisa’s GPS–named Garminio–resembled something like a Redwood tree.

Holly landslide Batman!

Another world up here…

Even higher up, above 2000 meters (6500 feet), we found the expansive, rocky beginnings of yet another landslide from the recent extreme storms. We picked our way through an uneven, alien landscape which briefly eclipsed the trail.

After we picked it up again at a confluence, we popped over the first ridge, rewarded by a breathtaking expanse of alpeggi (high alpine pastures) and the piercing ridges of the mountains beyond. Behind us, a group of thick gray clouds gathered, like nosy old women peering through their blinds at the youths egging the house next door. We looked at each other; should we turn back, or press our luck?

Ha! Is there even a question? Besides, the skies didn’t feel menacing like they did on National Pressing Your Luck Repeatedly Day at Tre Cime. And just ahead, we were about to make a few new friends…

And then down, down, down we went like little rolling stones decked out in matching freaky light backpacks and a fine mist of dried sweat. By the end, we’d marched 20 kilometers (13 miles), climbed 1500 meters of elevation (4920 feet) and descended about the same. Near the end, uneven pavement was starting to look like somewhere I could sleep a solid eight hours…

We tried hitchhiking the handful of kilometers up the road to fetch our bikes but we had about as much luck as a nerdy, shy, acne-covered kid on prom night. Italians, it turns out, are not the pick-you-up-on-the-roadside type, even when you’re two cute girls with matching lightweight backpacks, a fine mist of dried sweat and big ol’ smiles. Resolutely, we tacked on a few more kilometers walking back to camp where Loic, bless his little creepily sharp-knife owning heart, saved the day. He left via van to rescue our bikes, leaving us to our own devices via Lisa’s tarp. We stretched and watched the clouds (and I devoured almost an entire package of cookies, which actually did semi-wreck my iron stomach for about six minutes).

Afterwards–so as not to evoke the curious tempers of the weather gods, in particular His Highness Rain–we made pasta. With everyone else. And then waited in line for a shower –a lukewarm shower. With everyone else. And then waited in line to do freaking dishes. Dishes are often painful enough already, without having to wait around to do them. With everyone else. That was it for me: I’d rather do math for 48 hours straight then endure one more day of organized camping. With everyone else.

Day Six: Dobbiaco-Val Visdende-Danta-Wild Camping

In the morning, it was time for another lovely, leisurely, sun-soaked cruise from Dobbiaco to Val Visdende. Although we didn’t plan it–we didn’t so much plan as let things evolve–the ride was beyond pleasant. Bike paths first, through the valley:

Then a really dope lunch at a Konditorei (German/Austrian confectionary/cake shop) with a view of the Tre Cime’s shapely backside:

And one small climb to the top of Monte Croce pass.

The rest was a literal bomb downhill. We zipped through a quaint villages and passed tons of road bikers heading up what we were going down (I was jealous–what a climb!).

Can’t argue with the views…

Flat City.

We lingered in one village for a time after Lisa’s steed Wanda got a flat. Tortured by the tantalizing aromas oozing out of the bakery on which Lisa’s limping steed leaned, we ogled the tiny, antique spike she pulled out of her tire. And then an entire, large family from Romania materialized from the pastry-laden air and proceeded to pump up Lisa’s tire. The dad literally dispatched his teenage army to help and they did so gladly as we grinned. So sweet and unexpected, these instances while traveling by bike!

At the riverside campground in Val Visdende, we decided against camping with everyone else (again). Our decision was cemented by egregious, suspicious glares from the odd proprietor, based on what exactly? He was overheard saying “Where is their car?” as we walked over and sat in the late afternoon sunlight enjoying a 2.5 euro Spritz at the campground bar (aka giving him our money). Although in retrospect, suspicions could have been exacerbated by Lisa and I grunting and cussing through dozens of push-ups by the big yellow Caterpillar (the heavy equipment, not the pre-butterfly) in the corner of the campground parking lot…

So we utilized the river just as you would expect a few vagrants would (please note Loic showering in the background):

Then we packed up, stashed and locked the bikes in a clandestine location and moved on in van to the tiny town of Danta, located on a steep hillside overlooking the majesty of the Alps. Loic–bless his murderous, beer-chugging heart–spotted a poster for a town festival there. Turned out to be a very, very good decision because of:

The views.

Don’t you wanna, wanna go to Danta…

Traditional antiques on the streets at the town festival. There were some amazing crosscut saws as well, which aren’t produced anymore, at least in the States…

The cheap, delicious food and drink (two euro Spritz and three euro, generously portioned grilled sausage and veal sandwiches).

The entertainment–starting with Lisa’s slightly drunken renditions of Italy’s pop darling Ligabue, courtesy of a cover band. Sorry Italy, but every single one of those songs sounds the same to me 😀 But the lead singer, wearing an ACDC shirt and belting out one cookie cutter tune after another with an unlit cigarette in his hand was literally priceless.

The antics–starting with the enthusiasm of the drunk crowd, particularly one fella who danced with airplane arms for hours on end and the time I had to pee and managed to do so in a pile of nettles. The pinnacle was a really drunk dude who looked like Adam from HBO’s Girls and who decided doing a buttload of pull-ups on the tent was a fine idea. He chose a spot front and center in front of the band, his face a picture of determination, like a baby pooping. He knocked over a beer and the tent looked like it was in an earthquake before a good Samaritan managed to pry him off of it.

The company 🙂

And then–with way too many Spritz still rattling around in our systems, particularly Lisa’s and mine–we popped up the road to find a “wild” camping spot. WITHOUT everyone else. In Italy, there’s just one small problem: camping outside of campgrounds is, well, illegal. Illegal… oh no 😉 Obviously we didn’t care as we located a sufficiently quiet, dark field off the top off the pass. Loic parked the van and we deployed our tent in the perfect, hidden spot. To say we pitched it would be a stretch… we kind of threw it up, staked the doors and passed out.

Day Seven: Wild Camping-M. Aiarnola Hike-Sappada

In the morning, we got a very good laugh out of our floppy, crooked tent. And the perfect, hidden spot? Not exactly. From the road, the bright saucer of a tent stood out on the green, soft grass like a Democrat at a Trump rally. In the morning, in fact, Lisa heard an older couple speaking in Italian (as they cruised by on the trail just across the road… oops), “They can’t camp there.” Of course I didn’t hear a single thing because I once slept through a fire alarm in college and nothing has changed since.

We breakfasted roadside (to many an amused glance at us smearing on sunscreen by a van strung with various tent pieces and bike apparel). And then, a hike. It began oddly mellow. I relaxed into an off-day pace, ambling past countless quaint and/or kitschy holiday cabins. I should’ve known then something was off…

An hour later:

Not that I wasn’t stoked to be dominating yet another steep, Dolomite ridge, with eye-popping views as far as the eye could pop. But there was a tired devil and a tired angel on either shoulder, in rare agreement: it was time to rest. Even my blood hurt. But of course by then we were here:

We had a couple more hours stomping around above treeline, watching the swirling clouds and chatting with the bazillion krummholz trees (German for “twisted, crooked or bent,” and appearing exactly thus, thanks to harsh, high elevation weather). And then there was the time we decided not to take the detour…

Trees=handrails, so as not to fall down…

This!

What goes doggedly up must come tiredly down and that meant us–but on a relatively nice trail with actual turns, this time.

Figuring out which way to go…

Look we’re still going up Sylva! You happy ’bout that??

Traversing up high.

The way down!

And then–and then!–we rested in the best way possible by locating a truly delectable restaurant at the base of a nearby ski slope. We gorged ourselves on local grub like canederli with cheese and speck, pizza, giant ravioli (casunziei), tiramisu…

Food coma settled in quickly; Lisa was quietly freaking out all night/day about leaving Wanda (her kick@$$ touring bike) in a hiding spot and we barely made it there to check on it and the GD Musing before succumbing to a nap. Loic enjoyed the undeniable comfort of a mattress in his van. Lisa and I enjoyed the questionable comfort of the tarp atop a cement landing near the river, smattered generously with rocks the size of walnuts. Screw the Princess and the Pea (or the Princesses and the Pebbles)–we passed out immediately.

Post-nap, we had enough go juice to ride up and over into the long, picturesque valley that housed the town of Sappada.

Loic parked his van down by the river and we scoped out a sufficient illegal camping spot in the woods on the other side.

Before we rode, we stocked up on groceries for a campsite dinner, after which we would set up our tent in the cover of darkness. We also scoped out a nearby “beerfest” but didn’t stay long: Loic the Belgian Beer Boss was nonplussed by Forst beer, the only chugging choice. Food prices were a bit high and inside it was hotter than the inside of a sweaty biker thigh. So off we went for dinner under the stars.

All of us were whooped, so we didn’t last long post-grub. But my excitement to lay down and pass out was dampened by two elements:

The terrible and terribly loud rock music resonating from the sweaty beerfest. Somehow, the farther we got, the louder the Metallica covers became. It was almost like the guitarist was playing in my ear, his long, straggly 80s rock hair tickling my ear. But no… that was just the…

Ants. Lots and lots of ants. Over the last days and as we scoped out our campsite by the river, we spotted anthills the size of small Mayan ruins. None of these ant-thropological wonders was within Forst beer can-throwing distance, so we figured we’d be safe. As soon as I stood outside in the dark, with ants racing up my legs like they were enrolled in the world’s largest ant marathon, I saw the error of our ways. Later on in the night, when I sat up to use the bathroom that is the forest, a flurry of ants dominated the tent’s mesh like a computer screen of binary code. When I opened the mesh hastily–with more than a little trepidation–a wave of ants crested the bottom of the tent like an army of peppercorns on legs. Lisa’s side of the tent wasn’t so bad–but I was screwed.

Day Seven: Sappada-Ovara

Convening at the van after reclaiming our tent from The Ants (the ground literally moved under the vastness of their army), we had some breakfast. Loic was itching to road ride so he took off shortly after, leaving Lisa and I to our own devices. Our devices included a whole lot more downhill–we couldn’t have planned our route better if we actually planned it. And it was gorgeous, twisting like a piece of licorice through a lush, wooded canyon containing a river and any number of ivy-laden, whitewashed, tile-roofed fairytale villages.

In quiet, scenic Ovara, home to the infamous Zoncolan climb (another thigh-busting Giro d’Italia classic, which Loic was currently dominating), we pulled off the main road. And went straight uphill. For a moment, Lisa and I wondered if we hadn’t accidentally landed ourselves on the Zoncolan–but the views from our camp were well worth it.

Finally, this camp was just our speed: simple, cheap and deserted. Once Loic returned, tired but exuberant after punishing himself on the Zoncolan, we set up shop. Soon, we were sipping Spritz before walking into down for dinner:

Across the way, a certain green roof enchanted us, appearing clothed in dragon scales.

“How are those tiles so green?” Lisa said, sucking down a block of cheese.

“I wanna go up there,” I said, sucking down a Spritz.

“Mmmmm,” said Loic, sucking down half a bag of potato chips.

The next day, we’d get a closer look at the mysterious green roof, and much, much more… but of course, we hadn’t gotten that far yet. Until then bye-bye–or mandi mandi (pronounced mahn-dee mahn-dee) in Friulano dialect!

As Easy As DEF: Dobbiaco, Esercizio, Fruili Back in the US, one of the first things I usually notice is the freaking roads are…

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gokinjeespot · 7 years

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off the rack #1153

Monday, February 27, 2017

That was a fun opening number for the Oscars telecast last night but I went to bed right after that. I haven't watched an awards show live in years. I can catch up with any interesting bits as folks share them later. Being an old coot is a lot simpler these days.

February is on its way out and March is coming in like a lion with another cold snap for us here in Ottawa. Did that movie win anything? It hit me that I have three and a half more months to wait before I can go fishing again. Poopypants.

Elektra #1 - Matt Owens (writer) Juann Cabal (art) Antonio Fabela & Marcio Menyz (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This one is called "Always Bet On Red" even though her new costume is mostly black. I love the new costume and the art is very nice. I see some similarities to Jamie McKelvie's and Kevin Maguire's styles and they are done well. The story is a little weak and those in the know will spot the villain right away. I'll read more as long as Juann draws it.

Kamandi Challenge #2 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Neal Adams (art) Hi-Fi (colours) Clem Robins (letters). This one made me feel like I was back in the seventies again. The distinctive art will do that to you. If you remember last issue's cliffhanger you'll be surprised at how Peter solves the problem. The mention of New Gods gave a hint to how Kamandi was going to get out of this issue's tight spot and it's another cliffhanger on the last page. I don't know if I'm going to read the rest of this 12-issue Challenge because the situations are kind of silly. I am curious to see what other creative talents are lined up to do the rest though. I just have to wait and see as each issue hits the racks.

The Old Guard #1 - Greg Rucka (writer) Leandro Fernandez (art) Daniela Miwa (colours) Jodi Wynne (letters). I have been enjoying Greg's work on Wonder Woman and he's got another wonderful woman in this new book named Andy. She leads a team of mercenaries but these battle tested warriors have a very handy advantage. There are hints to this advantage in the first few pages but it's still cool when you finally see what it is during their mission. This one gets added to my "must read" list.

Uncanny Avengers #20 - Gerry Duggan (writer) Pepe Larraz (art) Dono Sanchez Almara with Protobunker (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Mostly a Deadpool comic as he tries to fight the Red Skull who has control over his teammates. I think the Skull's ego will be his undoing.

Wonder Woman #17 - Greg Rucka (writer) Liam Sharp (art) Laura Martin (colours) Jodi Wynne (letters). You don't want to miss part 2 of "The Truth" as transitions are happening with some major players. That weapon featured on the cover of The Old Guard #1 is called a labrys, a Greek battle axe.

Starstruck: Old Proldiers Never Die #1 - Elaine Lee (writer) Michael Kaluta (art) Lee Moyer (colours) Todd Klein (letters). Weird futuristic comic books never die either. This creation first hit the racks in 1982 and me being a huge Kaluta fan I bought and read them. I couldn't really keep up with Elaine's stories but I didn't care because Mike's art was so pretty. 35 years later and this story still baffles me. I won't be reading the rest of this because it's too spacey, like far out man spacey. I got to admit though that the art is still beautiful.

Scarlet Witch #15 - James Robinson (writer) Vanesa Del Rey (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This is a book that would benefit from a more consistent look. There have been different artists on this title since it hit the racks and some have been more appealing than others. James's writing is some of his best work and Vanesa tells his story very well visually but I don't think a lot of fans would pick this up just from flipping through this issue checking out the art. It's too bad because this character has gone through some cool changes since this title started.

Spider-Woman #16 - Dennis Hopeless (writer) Veronica Fish (art) Andy Fish (inking assistant) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). This is one of those super hero versus super villains fight where it looks like the bad guys are going to win. You wonder how the good guys will survive and you keep waiting for it to happen and you can go phew. Spoiler alert: no one dies.

Detective Comics #951 - James Tynion IV (writer) Christian Duce (art) Alex Sinclair (colours) Sal Cipriano (letters). Part 1 of "League of Shadows" finds Batman framed for murder. I like this story's villain who we haven't seen for a while. There was a "what the?" moment when Batman gets shot fleeing the crime scene. I thought his costume could prevent bullets from penetrating. I guess they all don't.

Champions #1.MU - Jeremy Whitley (writer) Ro Stein & Ted Brandt (art) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I have been picking and choosing which Monsters Unleashed tie-in books to read and I picked this one because I really like this new young team. Most of this issue is the team fighting a team of bad guys hired by Roxxon Oil to stop an environmental protest. The monsters only crash land near the end and the two teams team up to save the day. My favourite thing about the Champions is that they're young but have that sense of responsibility that makes them heroes. I would recommend reading this Monsters Unleashed tie-in.

Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps #15 - Robert Venditti (writer) Ethan Van Sciver (art) Jason Wright (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). Very few artists wow me almost every time I open up one of their comic books and Ethan Van Sciver is one of them. The detail he puts into every panel is astounding. I tend not to read team books but the solo adventures are keeping me interested. I am looking forward to seeing Guy Gardner duke it out with one of the bad Yellow Lanterns next issue.

Hulk #3 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Nico Leon (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). The tease continues with just one brief glimpse of She-Hulk. I like seeing this slow process of Jen's recovery and the building suspense of the mystery killer. The anticipation of her Hulking out and finding out what the connection is between the killer and one of Jen's clients keeps me reading.

Action Comics #974 - Dan Jurgens (writer) Patch Zircher & Stephen Segovia (pencils) Patch Zircher & Art Thibert (inks) Ulises Arreola (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). Whoa, way to make the mystery Clark Kent creepy there Dan. We're talking crazy stalker guy. This story crosses over with the Superman book so we only have to wait a week to find out what happens next. I like that.

Spider-Gwen #17 - Jason Latour (writer) Robbi Rodriguez (art) Rico Renzi (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I had to read this for part 4 of "Sitting in a Tree" but I've got to admit that I like the way Jason handles these kids. Add a guest appearance by one of the Champions and it's a winner for me.

Inhumans vs. X-Men #5 - Charles Soule & Jeff Lemire (writers) Javier Garron (art) David Curiel (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). One more issue to go. I just want to see how Charles and Jeff resolve this conflict. My guess is that Forge and Moon Girl will figure out a way to trap all of the Terrigen cloud and somehow keep it from killing all the mutants. That way nobody dies.

Amazing Spider-Man #24 - Dan Slott & Christos Gage (writers) Giuseppe Camuncoli (pencils) Cam Smith (inks) Jason Keith (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). This is a "Clone Conspiracy" tie-in. Please make it stop. The world has been saved so I hope they scale things back a little because I am getting jaded about these big events.

Infamous Iron Man #5 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Alex Maleev (art) Matt Hollingsworth (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). If this doesn't convince you that Victor Von Doom has gone good then nothing will. This reunion of mother and son was very interesting especially when you get to the last panel. I don't know how Brian keeps coming up with these "what the?" moments but I'm glad he does. It's just no fun waiting for the next issue when that happens.

Spider-Man/Deadpool #14 - Joe Kelly (writer) Ed McGuinness (pencils) Mark Morales (inks) Jason Keith (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). Nightcrawler guest stars as Spider-Man has a crisis of conscience. He can't figure out how to beat the mash-up killer Itsy Bitsy except for going all Punisher on her. I don't know if I'll read issues #15 and #16 because they are going to be crossovers with Deadpool. Something to do with Wade's demon wife Shiklah. I'll try to remember to pick up #17 off the racks when the Itsy Bitsy story resumes.

Q(��U

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