#but the person I currently consider my closest friend doesn’t feel comfortable actually speaking to me

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[ibijau]

Xisang Week 2021 Day 1 : Sunshot / childhood

Wei Wuxian stares at the two boys in front of him, before turning his gaze toward his husband who appears just as puzzled as him.

“I think it was a curse maybe,” says the older boy, who Wei Wuxian recognises, but refuses to name because if he calls him by name, then this whole madness is real and he doesn’t want to deal with that when he hasn't even had breakfast yet. “I mean, it’s got to be. Oh, da-ge is going to be furious that I got in trouble again…”

There go Wei Wuxian’s efforts to not think of that teenager as Nie Huaisang, and any hopes of using this situation to have some fun. Nie Huaisang looks so damn worried about his brother, and though Wei Wuxian isn’t sure where the two of them stand at the moment, he’s cruel enough to say anything about Nie Mingjue. 

“Hey, Nie-xiong, just what do you remember exactly?”

Nie Huaisang, whose attention was mostly on Lan Wangji, turns to look at Wei Wuxian and wrinkles his nose.

“I should be home,” he explains. “I’d gone back there after that awful Wen camp. Then we got the news, about Yunmeng, and da-ge said he’s going to send me to Gusu so I can stay safe. There’s going to be a war for sure this time. But I don’t know why I’m here already!” Nie Huaisang whines. “I haven’t even started packing! And everything is weird! I don’t know you, and I’m not sure I know him!”

‘Him’ in this case refers to the child currently clinging to Nie Huaisang’s neck. He’s probably a little old to be carried in anyone’s arms, least of all Nie Huaisang’s who isn’t exactly a very strong looking person. Looks can be deceiving though. Nie Huaisang doesn’t appear bothered by the weight of that Lan boy, even though he’s been holding the child in his arms since the moment Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji discovered them wandering around the Hanshi.

Wei Wuxian has never met that person at that age of course, but he can risk an educated guess, especially with the way Lan Wangji stares at that child.

“And what about you then?” Wei Wuxian asks the little boy. “What do you remember, Lan gongzi?”

The child stares at Lan Wangji in silence, his dark eyes burning with anger.

“He looks like Father,” Lan Xichen says, pointing an accusing finger at his brother.

Having never meant the previous sect leader, Wei Wuxian can’t say if that’s true or not. What he can say is that the accusation hits Lan Wangji hard, who turns a shade or two paler.

“He’s not your father,” Wei Wuxian quickly says.

Lan Xichen tilts his head, frowning.

“He’s not,” he concedes. “But he looks like him,” he insists, before falling silent again, hiding his face in the crook of Nie Huaisang’s neck.

Considering the sort of person Nie Huaisang was around the time of the Sunshot Campaign, Wei Wuxian is surprised by how well he’s handling this whole thing. He would have expected Nie Huaisang to have started crying already, but instead he seems focused on soothing the little boy in his arms.

Funny, really. As adults, Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen aren’t really on speaking terms, as far as Wei Wuxian knows. Nie Huaisang had only come to the Cloud Recesses to talk with Lan Qiren about some sect business, making it clear that he had no wish to even acknowledge that Lan Xichen still exists, a feeling that appeared more than mutual.

And now, Nie Huaisang is holding Lan Xichen like he’s something precious, keeping him close and rubbing his back to comfort him. Earlier, when Lan Wangji offered to take the child from him, Nie Huaisang refused to let go of a little boy who'd gone tense with fear in his arms, claiming he really doesn't mind the weight.

“He told me earlier that his mother died last night,” Nie Huaisang explains when Wei Wuxian stares too long.

Lan Wangji, already hit hard by everything that’s happening, startles as he hears that. Wei Wuxian quickly takes his wrist to ground him.

“Then he must be about nine,” Wei Wuxian remarks, looking at the little boy who says nothing and only clings tighter to Nie Huaisang. “Poor Xichen-da-ge, not a very pleasant moment of his life to be sent back to. Not that it must be nice for you either, Nie-xiong.”

“Don’t call me that, you’re too old to call me that!” Nie Huaisang complains. “I’m not an ancestor like you! You’re even older than my da-ge! And anyway, I don’t even know you! I can tell that’s Wangji-xiong when he’s old, but you’re not someone I know, so don’t act like we're friends!”

“Ah, right,” Wei Wuxian says, motioning at his face. “Funny story, that. Or not so funny actually, so let’s keep it for later. Well, Nie-gongzi then, do you have any idea what might have happened?”

“No. I told you, last I remember I was with my da-ge, and there was going to be a war, and I was scared because Jiang-xiong and Wei-xiong are dead, and da-ge too might die, and then I’d be sect leader and that’s awful! Then I went to bed, and I woke up in this house I don’t know, with jars of wine on the ground, and everything smelling weird. Like incense, but also not?”

That, at last, feels like a clue Wei Wuxian can use. It is rather odd for any alcohol to be present inside the Cloud Recesses. They do keep some around for high ranking guests, and of course he has his personal stash hidden inside the Jingshi, but usually that’s it. He’s certainly never heard of Lan Xichen drinking. And even if he were to indulge, why do it with Nie Huaisang of all people, who at this point is probably the closest thing to an enemy that Lan Xichen is ever going to get?

The incense thing is weird too. Some sects like to experiment with different types, but the Lan sect tends to favour sandalwood and doesn’t stray much from that. Nie Huaisang would know that, having studied there several years in a row, which is probably why that particular detail struck him, just as it strikes Wei Wuxian.

This whole situation really is odd, and Wei Wuxian hopes it can be solved quickly, because it won’t go unnoticed for long that the leaders of two great sects are suddenly unavailable at the same time.

[7-wonders]

For a little over a month now, you had been dating Duncan Shepherd, and it was...surprisingly low-key considering how high-profile he was. That's not to say that this is a bad thing. In fact, it's been really nice. Dinner dates at the backs of restaurants, movie nights at your place, even just driving aimlessly and talking with each other. Over the past month, you've gotten to really know the man that many magazines refer to as "untouchable," finding out that those assumptions are all lies. In fact, you've never been so comfortable in the beginning stages of a relationship with someone before.

Which is why you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You're not used to things going so good for you. Work, personal life, relationships--all manage to end up going in the opposite direction of where you wanted them to go. This is probably the reason that it took three weeks of Duncan chasing after you after meeting at a work conference (you'll never forget watching this 30-something man who had been covered in Forbes walk up to a group of late Millenials/early Gen Zs and look entirely out of his element) before you agreed to go out with him. You're just naturally guarded, and there's nothing wrong with that. But, you'll admit, it is nice to be vulnerable sometimes. Especially when that results in an extremely beautiful man taking out out and showering you with attention.

Said beautiful man is who makes your phone buzz on your desk. It's 3:30 on a Friday, and you're really not doing much work anyways.

"It's a beautiful day out, are you up for ditching work and going for a walk through the park?"

You feel yourself flush, as you always do whenever Duncan texts you. Before you can respond, another text comes in.

"Too late, I'm already outside your office."

Sure enough, you look up and see him chatting to your coworker. His eyes flick towards you, and he grins when he sees that you're shrugging your coat on. "Hi," you say shyly, a little flustered that he's here in your office right now.

"Hi. Hope I didn't interrupt any work."

"You did. I was very busy staring at my blank computer screen."

Duncan chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out of the office. you turn to wave goodbye to your coworker, who is currently fanning herself with her hand and mouthing "oh my god!"

"So what are you doing out of your office on a Friday afternoon?"

"Ah, they didn't have much use for me anyways." You laugh, knowing that's an obvious lie. His uncle would make him live at the office if he had the chance. "No, I figured I could take off a couple of hours early. Lord knows I've worked enough lately."

"You sure the world won't stop spinning because you're gone?"

Duncan grabs your hand, swinging it lightly as you cross a crosswalk. "If it does, at least I'm with you." You look up at him in pleased surprise, and he steals a kiss. "There is something I've been wanting to discuss with you, though. Figured this would be a good time to do it."

Oh god. The other shoe. "You're not married or something, are you?"

"No, I'm not married."

"Thank god," you breathe a literal sigh of relief.

"Was that really what you were worried about? That you were an unknowing mistress?"

"That, and that you might be a serial killer." You side-eye him. "Verdict's still out on that one."

He laughs. "I can promise you that neither of those are true."

"So what did you want to tell me? If you're not a married serial killer."

You come to a stop when Duncan does, staring at him as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. "Um, I...I have a child."

"A child?" He nods. "Like, a tiny human that shares your DNA?" Another nod.

"I understand that this might be a shock to you."

"No! No, it's not a shock. I'm just surprised, is all."

"I've never told any of the previous women I've dated about her, because typically the fling ends as just a fling, and her safety is something that I'm very protective of."

"Your daughter?"

"Yes, Elizabeth. She's three."

You smile, the mental image of Duncan as a dad something intensely heartwarming.

"As I was saying, I don't typically tell my dates about her, but you and I are getting fairly serious and I don't want to hide such an important part of my life from you."

"We're getting serious, huh?" Duncan laughs lightly. "Can I call you my boyfriend?"

"As long as I can call you my girlfriend."

"Is your daughter's mother...around?"

"No. She stuck around for two months after Elizabeth was born, and then she left. We weren't dating for very long before she got pregnant. I told her that I wanted the baby, even if she didn't." Duncan shrugs. "I guess she didn't."

"I'm so sorry that you had to deal with that, Duncan."

"I'd rather raise my daughter to know she has one parent that loves her so much instead of one parent that loves her and one parent that doesn't care." Though he hasn't revealed much about his past, you do know that he has a complicated relationship with his family, which is probably where those feelings come from.

"Thank you for telling me. I'm glad that you trust me enough to talk about someone so precious to you."

"I want you in my life, (Y/N), hopefully for a long time, but I need you to know that she'll always come first."

Well, if you didn't think you were head over heels for him before, this solidifies it.

"If you're okay with it, I want you to meet her."

You look up in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course. I'm not going to tell you all of this just for you to not meet her."

"I'd love to!" you say quickly, not wanting him to think you're hesitant. "Would she be okay with it?"

Duncan nods. "I'll talk to her about it, but I don't see why not. Do you want to come over tonight? I can cook dinner, and you can actually see where I live."

You try not to show it, but your eyes widen. Not only would you be meeting his daughter, but now you'd be visiting his place for the first time. "Um, sure!"

"I'll text you, but does five work? That gives me some time after the nanny leaves."

"Five is great."

"You sure?" He smirks. "You look a little nervous."

"I'm sure." Duncan kisses you once more before bidding you farewell, leaving you to walk home and try not to internally freak out.

///

After spending way too much time figuring out what to wear before realizing you're meeting your boyfriend's three-year-old and not the Queen of England, you're at the address Duncan had texted you at approximately 5:05 (not too late, but also not punctual or, even worse, early). You shift from foot to foot nervously after knocking on the door of the townhouse, not quite sure if you should let yourself in.

Before you can make that decision, it's made for you when the door is opened by Duncan. He's grinning, barefoot and casual, with a tiny pair of arms wrapped around his neck and big blue eyes shyly gazing up at you from where a head is hidden against his shoulder. Instantly, your nerves melt away when you see that she's truly Duncan's carbon copy, from the eyes to the brown curls to the way she looks at you as if she's trying to figure you out.

"Hi, come in." Duncan ushers you in, kissing you on the cheek as he takes your coat. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Wine?" you ask before wondering if you can even drink wine when there's a small child around.

"Perfect, I already opened a bottle." Duncan looks at his daughter, brushing her curls back before whispering something in her ear. "(Y/N), this is my daughter, Elizabeth. Lizzie, this is Daddy's special friend, (Y/N), remember?"

"Hi Elizabeth, it's very nice to meet you," you say with a smile.

She looks up at you. "Hi," she says before burying her face in Duncan's shoulder again, making both you and him chuckle.

"The, uh, food's probably almost ready. It's chicken and rice, if you're okay with that."

"Definitely!"

"I wanted chicken nuggets, but Daddy said that's not 'date food,'" Elizabeth pipes up. You laugh as Duncan blushes.

"That's where your dad and I disagree, because I would eat chicken nuggets every night if I could."

She grins, and you feel like you just won the lottery. "Me too."

"Can I set you down, sweetie? I have to check the stove," Duncan explains. He speaks to her so softly, which is such a change from the demanding man you see when he's on work calls, or the romantic who loves to make you flustered. Once she agrees, he puts her on the floor and she immediately runs off, presumably to the living room or her bedroom.

"She's so cute," you gush once she's out of earshot.

"Yeah, she is," he says fondly, moving something off of the stove before kissing you properly. "I think she likes you."

"You can tell?"

He shrugs. "Father's intuition."

"I wasn't sure if I should have brought her a gift, like a toy or something?"

"I'm glad you didn't. My mom spoils her rotten with toys, she has way more than she needs."

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Would you mind setting the table, actually?" He points to a cupboard. "Dishes are up there."

Everywhere you look, there's signs of the little girl that lives here, whether it be crayon artwork on the fridge or the kid plastic plates in the cupboard. You smile at a picture of Duncan pushing Elizabeth on a swing as you set down the plates and cutlery, Duncan putting dishes of food on the middle of the table.

"Elizabeth!" he calls. "Dinner's ready!" You can hear the pattering of her little feet before you see her sprinting into the dining room like she's racing Usain Bolt.

"Daddy, can I sit with (Y/N)?" she asks, making your heart almost explode.

"I don't know, you'd have to ask (Y/N)," he says, hiding a grin as he looks at you.

"(Y/N), can I sit with you?"

"Yeah." Your voice comes out as little more than a whisper due to how choked up you are, so you clear your throat and try again. "Yeah," you say, louder.

You sit down on the chair closest to Duncan, and Elizabeth clambers up onto your lap. Once she's comfy, she makes grabby hands at the plate that Duncan is making for her. Your hands hover awkwardly at your sides, not sure what to do. What if you move too fast and scare her off? No, that's with wild animals, not toddlers. Yet again, the decision of what to do is made for you when she gets her plate and begins to talk to you.

Throughout dinner, Duncan can hardly eat, so wrapped up in watching you interact with his daughter as you listen to every word she says and chat with her about whatever she's deemed more important than her food. He's not sure of the last time that he was ever this happy; maybe the day Elizabeth was born? Listening to you laugh at one of the jokes she learned at nursery school and has told at least a hundred times by now, he's sure that he made the right choice in saying that he wants you around for a while.

//

IDK who even would want to read this so I'm just tagging a couple of people @sojournmichael @michaellangdon @xavierplympton @blakescoven @mrslangdonn @michaellangdonstanaccount

[slimesidian]

I noticed on Slime's Wormman art that their Zed had robot parts, plus it was mentioned that Zed occasionally joined in on Hermit Debug week as of recent, so when/how did Zed get these robot parts? Or just give Zed headcanons in general! :P

I was actually really really hoping somebody would notice that I gave Zed little robotic face plates so first, thank you for noticing my lidl details :D. Secondly I’m gonna just ramble bout my Zedaph headcanons because oh boy oh boy do I have….a lot. This will tie into my Team ZITS backstory headcanons by the way, as this is Zed’s part of the story. I’ll cover Tango’s if I ever get asked about it don’t worry.

-Mod Slime

Origin

Zed, like Mumbo, is a robot. Now, the thing about this is Zed doesn’t actually know this. He and Mumbo are similar in a lot of their design, actually, as they were made by the same person, Zed being made after Mumbo. The biggest difference is Mumbo was scrapped early, so he was fully aware he was a robot, but Zed was fully finished and thus had this knowledge hidden from him. Zed isn’t a Redstone robot in the same way that Mumbo is.

When he first woke up, he was alone in a survival world, or, he thought he was alone. The only friend he had for a while was a little brown sheep that he met in his first few minutes of proper existence. He didn’t even really know who or what he was at this time, and was actually just walking around shirtless for a while. 

He was eventually found and given shelter by another Player, which, he didn’t think there were other Players in this world. Turns out, said Player is Skizz. He lets Zed stay with him and asks about his life, and Zed admits that he knows… nothing about his life. He has no memory of anything before this world, and Skizz assumes maybe it was a glitch or something when Zed spawned in. Whatever the case, at least he has a roof over his head now.

At some point, the two gently shear the sheep Zed had found, and used the wool to create Zed’s sweater, the buttons ended up being a bunch of mix matched colors and shapes, but Zed likes it.

Eventually, the two go to the End and find Impulse. Zed can quickly detect that Impulse is speaking Galactic and begins translating so Skizz can understand what he’s saying.

(From this point, everything lines up with the Impulse headcanons I gave a while ago.)

Moonlight SMP

While in Moonlight SMP, Zed created a superhero alter ego, aka Wormman. He would supposedly retire this persona for a few years. This comes back later which is why I mention it now.

Hermitcraft Backstory

When Zed showed up on Hermitcraft, he traveled by portal. There was an accidental glitch and… well Wormman manifested. 

Zed pretty much just kinda chills until he inevitably does meet Wormman, and is very confused by the fact that his alter ego is his own person. He rolls with it though, and just kind of accepts that yeah Wormman exists

Also Zed can split timelines. Nobody ever really discusses this fact, but he did do this once in S5. 

Nothing truly eventful happens to Zed in season 5, at least, in terms of backstory, but Wormman on the other hand, is left in the S5 world after the world ends. This is awful because the S5 world is basically cursed and got completely overtaken by the jungle, which means Wormman… yeah you can figure out what happened. 

He gets out though! He kinda… lost his soul, and got possessed by death due to this. Thus Zedeath was born. When he showed up on Hermitcraft 6, Zed did not realize that Zedeath is the same person as Wormman

Again there isn’t really anything backstory wise that’s too important until S7 because that’s when Zed accidentally learns that he is a robot. 

He glitched one day in the first half of the season(probably around November), didn’t entirely know why. He calls Tango over to help, since Tango can access the code, and Tango can’t entirely figure out what’s wrong. He calls Impulse over, and Impulse recognizes that Zed’s code is extremely similar to Mumbo’s, almost identical.

This leads the two of them to realizing Zed is a robot. Now how do they prove that this is true? Well, they remember that Mumbo’s synthetic skin came off when he tried out the uh… I don’t remember the name of it but the spookificating thing that was in the Shopping District.

So Zed pretty much goes into that, and when he comes out it is revealed that he is in fact a robot, and he looks almost identical to Mumbo in basic design(like the chest cavity, the location of the metallic plates, etc…). Zed basically has a breakdown about this because he doesn’t know if his feelings are real or not. 

He ends up asking Mumbo how he copes with the fact that he’s a robot, and they kinda have a sweet little heart to heart about it, and Zed comes out of it being mostly comfortable with the fact he’s a robot. He gets new synthetic skin, but he leaves certain areas uncovered so he can see the metallic bits. He wants to love that part of himself.

This is around the time that Zed starts taking part of the debug weeks. 

And this is basically all for the in universe “lore” stuff. Other important thing is that Wormman/Zedeath has been using Zed’s Void hole to reach Ex in the Void.

General/Other

Zed has pointy ears, he doesn’t know why he was designed with them, but he honestly doesn’t mind. For the longest time it made him think maybe he was some kind of hybrid.

Zed’s eyes glow purple, and so does his robot chest cavity. He doesn’t really know what causes it to glow purple

Zed, being a robot, has a very close relationship with any contraption or mechanism he builds, especially after he learns he’s a robot. 

He doesn’t actually need sleep, which is why the other Hermits won’t really try to force him to sleep the same way they will with Impulse and Tango. 

Being a robot means that Zed can’t handle the Void without dying particularly faster than other Hermits(again save for Mumbo because robots :D). 

Zed is chubby. Fight me. 

His hair is really soft

Wormman/Zedeath Headcanons

Wormman is a clone of Zedaph’s memories, not Zedaph himself. As in, Wormman is not a robot, where as Zed is. Wormman is memories from when Zed thought he was an organic being rather than mechanical. Wormman has every memory that was created while Zed wore the costume. This actually means Wormman has two birthdays, but he considers his true birthday to be the day he became his own person, rather than, when Zed first wore the costume. 

Zedeath and Wormman are the same person. Wormman is technically soulless after being abandoned in season 5 and things….happening to him. He could never really die, though, and the closest he came to death accidentally turned him into Zedeath, which is why his first (and only) s6 appearance was as Zedeath instead of Wormman.

Wormman currently resides under the server with Evil Xisuma/Abyss. Wormman had talked to him at some point in S6 while he was still Zedeath, and even then Abyss probably realized who he was. Since then, Wormman built a platform under Zed's base, and there he and Abyss live. It's not much, just the two of them. Although BadTimes vomits occasionally.

Zedeath no longer really comes around. Maybe it's because whatever caused him to exist moved on to Ren during Demise, maybe he came back and Wormman just doesn’t know.

Zedeath isn’t even that scary, he’s just a mischievous soul(or lack there of)

[xyzcekaden]

🚍 unsuspecting sunday afternoon 🚍

by me, xyzcekaden! a pokemon fanfic about when the one you hate to love is made for you

How capable is the human heart now?

fandom: pokemon, gen 3, advanced generation characters: ash, may, steven stone in a “supporting” role ship: advanceshipping genre: romance, angst themes: friendship, pre-relationship, slowburn, 6+1 if you squint setting: modern, hoenn, pokemon universe lite word count: 4.6k rating: T

read it below, on ffnet, or on ao3!

A/N (9.7.201): So this has been in my drafts since about April 2020 😅 Sure, I'm happy to finally share something new with the small yet strong advanceshipping fandom; but more than that, I'm relieved this document can no longer taunt me with its incompletion, hahaha. Do let me know what you think! Especially with this opening formatting; I'm trying something new. :)

Nothing sensitive in the fic, but the characters are all adults so it felt fitting to rate it T. Title taken from the song of the same name by the Backstreet Boys, and its lyrics/sentiments are interwoven throughout. The narrative is inspired and framed by monstaxnight's anonymous ask. If you recognise it, it doesn't belong to me. Thanks for reading!

~~~

fall for someone whose body would start fires

On a Saturday, May asked Ash to come over the next day. “I need a second opinion on something,” she had said. “It’ll be super quick.”

Of course, ‘super quick’ means Ash has enough time to set his switch up on May’s gigantic living room tv and play a few rounds of his favourite fighting video game while she gets ready for something or another in her room. He always acts like he has better things to do than help her with her sundry weekly ventures, but they both know he’d rather do ‘nothing’ with her than ‘something’ on his own somewhere else.

“Okay, Ash, are you ready?” May’s voice rings out. “Yeah,” he answers distractedly, strategically button smashing.

“So I kept the jeans from this last outfit, but this top I just got two weekends ago and haven’t had a chance to wear yet,” May narrates as she exits her room. “I had the, frankly, brilliant idea of using the jacket from Outfit 1 and pairing it with those heels you paid for for my birthday, et voila!”

The clacking of heels stops at the entrance of the hallway. “What do you think?’

Ash redirects his attention to May. His avatar dies on screen, just like his voice dies in his throat.

“You, um, you look great.”

In actuality, May looks smoking hot, but that’s not new for either of them. His best friend is supremely attractive, and he knew it and had no problem acknowledging it normally. This time, however, May doesn’t just look physically great, she also looks like she feels like she looks great. He doesn’t know how much sense that makes; but there is decidedly something different, and Ash feels a strange sense of dread in his chest.

May beams, taking the inarticulate response in stride. “Well that’s a winning endorsement if I ever heard one! Now let’s just hope Steven has as great of a reaction.” She turns to one of the many full-length mirrors stationed around her condo and reviews the outfit with a critical eye.

This brings Ash out from his stupor. “‘Steven’?” he repeats as he sits up on the couch. “You’re going on a date?”

“It’s not a date,” May replies in a tone that clearly conveys that she would not be opposed to it turning into a date. “My dad is having dinner with an old business partner, and the guy’s bringing his son along, so me and Max were invited, too. We were kinda friends back when we were young, but it’s not like we’ve kept in touch or anything. I just figured I should make a good second first-impression… You know, for my dad’s sake.”

Ash can tell the last bit was just something she’s telling herself to rationalise why she’s trying so hard, and it doesn’t sit right with him. He slinks back down on the couch dejectedly and halfheartedly starts a new game.

He finds himself wondering how often they hung out and how much whatever-that-number-was-teenth impressions were worth. He hopes it’s a lot.

~~~

fall for someone who always runs from his kiss

“… And I was right! They were roommates!” May boisterously ends her story, almost losing her ice cream to physics as she wildly gesticulates.

They’re just strolling around the park that’s honestly nowhere near either of their apartments; but over the years, it became their park anyway. They didn’t even set plans to hang out today, but it kinda just happened―a recurring theme in their friendship, admittedly.

For his part, Ash hides a smirk with a lick to his own ice cream, not bothering to say or do anything to protect her treat. If she hasn’t learned by now, she never would. “Oh my god, they were roommates,” he deadpans instead.

May sends him an unimpressed smirk and lightly smacks Ash’s shoulder. He yelps. She yanks her hand back as soon as she realises, but the damage is done.

He blinks down at the cold, vanilla, rainbow-sprinkled stain before raising his gaze to meet May’s equally stunned one.

They stare in silence for a moment, then May cracks a conciliatory grin. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry?”

He shrugs it off easily. “I probably deserved it,” he says, making peace with the knowledge that his previous unwillingness to protect her ice cream from any accidents is the undoubted origin for his current poor luck. He nods toward the path. “Shall we?”

“We passed by a restroom a little bit ago. We can clean you up,” May disagrees, tugging on his arm in the opposite direction.

“‘S fine,” he argues as he tries to continue walking forward.

“Ash, it’ll stain!” She tugs harder.

“It’ll be an improvement!” He’s overpowering her, but not as easily as he’d like.

“Why are you being such a butthead about this!?” She’s pulling with all her strength now, this being a matter of pride to her at this point.

“Come on, May!” Ash heaves one last time.

They tumble head over feet onto the ground, but that’s not the reason Ash feels like his world has turned upside down.

May’s body weighs comfortably on his, his hands naturally settle on her waist with hers on his chest, and his brown eyes bore into her blues. Their ice cream has fallen… somewhere, but Ash doesn’t concern himself with that considering this is the closest they’ve been since they first met.

They’ve been toeing this line since then, too.

I’m gonna do it, he thinks to himself.

He closes his eyes.

He leans in.

May scrambles away.

Ash sits up and blinks at the sight of May’s confused, furious eyes. “Ash, what are you doing?” Her voice croaks like her throat is dry. It makes him clear his own before dumbly responding, “I was trying to kiss you.”

“Why??” she asks, her voice strangled. He pushes himself off the ground warily as he watches her hold herself, bite her lip, shake her head in a panic; and somehow in all of that, he understands.

“I thought it wasn’t a date.” Ash tries so hard not to sound accusatory, but her wince in response proves it didn’t work. It also proves his fear correct.

He turns, hiding as if the people walking by could discern his transgression and shame by the sight of his face alone. Besides, his mind can conjure up an image of her running away just fine on its own.

Ash notices the remnants of their impromptu outing splattered on the ground near his feet. He picks up what he can and stomps over to the nearest trash bin, throwing it in as hard as he can to let out some of his frustration.

He hopes he hasn’t gone and screwed everything up.

~~~

fall for someone whose lips belong to someone else

They don’t talk about it, and then it’s too late.

“Ash, this is Steven,” she tells him softly, as if it could make up for how it feels like the sight of her arms wrapped around the guy’s torso and his arm casually thrown over her shoulder assaults him every time he blinks.

“Steven Stone. It’s great to finally meet you. May speaks of you highly,” Steven introduces with a dignified air. Not pompous, no; he is just someone who was raised being told that he was going to do important things and who happened to believe it.

They shake hands, and Ash’s fingers feel cold, a marked contrast to how there’s something in his chest that’s burning.

Inside the restaurant, the waitress asks if a table is okay, and no one asks for a booth instead. In his seat, Ash is neither directly in between nor directly across from the newly-established couple, and he wonders if this is where all his luck went into.

Lunch goes better than expected.

Ash was prepared to hate the guy, but what is there to hate? Steven has a decent sense of humour, loves pokemon but loves rocks even more, and is COO of the biggest enterprise in Hoenn. He is a safe, sensible choice. This guy isn’t going to break May’s heart.

As the meal winds down, Steven offers to pay for everyone; but Ash still has his pride. In the end, he manages to negotiate paying for just his own plate and drink, knowing he has no right to battle for the privilege of paying for May’s.

He wouldn’t even do so on a typical occasion anyway; but as far as Ash is concerned, Steven’s presence throws all of the friends’ typical rules of engagement out the window.

They say goodbye and part ways in front of the restaurant.

A few steps later, Ash snaps his fingers as he recalls something. He turns around to remind May of their movie plans in a few days, and he is met with the sight of the couple sharing a sweet kiss on the corner while waiting for the light to change.

Steven could never break May’s heart, but he sure can break Ash’s.

Ash turns back and continues walking. He hopes May can remember on her own.

~~~

fall for someone whose touch is way too much

May insists that nothing has changed between them, but clearly something has because Ash doesn’t remember ever being so anxious about her proximity before.

He had always been aware of her, though. Always. When your first meeting is saving the other from getting run over by a tour bus, you quickly develop the habit of keeping track of where the person is at all times.

Between his athleticism and her natural proclivity towards tactileness, casual physical exchanges quickly became their norm: hugs and high fives, friendly elbows in the rib after a good joke and sharing a blanket as they watch a movie, (lingering touches on the shoulder and holding hands even after they’ve escaped a crowd… or did he make those up?).

They were controlled yet unmistakably affectionate markers of their relationship.

But now?

When she shifts one centimetre closer to him in line at the mall food court, he accidentally overpays by fifty pokeyen out of distraction. When she grabs his fork out of his hand to try a piece of his takoyaki, he jerks so hard at the contact that he spills his soft drink all over the table. When she pats him dry using flimsy food court napkins with a joke about ice cream in her voice and fondness in her eyes, he needs to claim a rapid-onset fever in order to give himself an excuse to cut their lunch short immediately.

These innocent touches have been an ever-present facet of their friendship since basically the beginning; and even when he realised he was in love, they hadn’t affected him like this.

Things are different now, despite what she says.

Well, maybe not things; maybe just him.

He had allowed himself to revel in their familiar touches when she was single because he could, because there was no one else that she was supposed to be able to make feel like this. Even if the feeling wasn’t meant for him, it wasn’t meant for anyone else either.

But now.

He can’t, in good conscience, allow his heart to rush and his smile to form and his hand to squeeze back. It wouldn’t be fair to May, not when she’s trusting him with her friendship and he’s taking more from her than that.

Even though he’d like nothing else than to keep that closeness, to go back to how it was between them before, this is the way it has to be now. He just hopes she can understand.

~~~

fall for someone he doesn’t want to feel for

On sleepless nights, he wonders when.

He knows the who, what, why, and how; but the when eludes him.

...

They were both breathing heavy, attention focused on the spot of the road where the girl would have flattened like a pancake if it weren’t for his quick reflexes and hero complex.

The clapping of a few passers-by snapped them out of their shock and into the realisation that he still had her protectively cradled to his chest.

They quickly broke apart, and he took the time to wave off the praise from the gathered crowd while she checked her purse to see if everything was inside.

“You got everything?” he asked after people’s attentions finally turned back towards their own lives.

“Yeah, I do,” the girl replied, and her voice was rather cheery considering the ordeal she just survived. (He would later learn that was her default.)

“Great,” he said, genuine yet awkward.

They continued staring at each other. The adrenaline from their brush with danger hadn’t worn off yet; his heart was still beating very fast.

“So, um, have a good day,” he bade after it was clear neither of them had anything more to say. He made to return to his errands, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“You saved my life, and you’re just gonna walk away?” she asked incredulously.

He blinked at her. “I’ll be honest; I wasn’t aware there was an after-action protocol for this sort of situation.”

She was incredulous for only a second before she giggled at him. “The least I can do is buy you lunch to say ‘thank you.’”

“Well, I’ve never turned down a free meal,” he accepts with a grin.

She giggled again then stuck out her hand. “My name’s May.”

“Ash.”

...

No, it wasn’t then. Nor was it during the meal they shared, nor at the bar where they happened to see each other that weekend, nor while they were escaping from the bar fight that she accidentally instigated that night.

...

“Is this going to become a running gag? Will I have to constantly be saving you from trouble you unintentionally get yourself into?” Ash panted after he directed her to duck into a nearby alley.

“Hey, as far as I’m concerned, this automatically makes me the most interesting friend you’ve got,” May countered.

He took one extra second to check no one was following them then cut a glance at her. “I don’t know about you, but most of my friends have my number.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Smooth.” They switched phones and exchanged numbers.

“Better memorize that by heart,” he jested as he handed her her phone back. “Don’t wanna waste your one phone call at the station just because you mixed up the last two digits by accident.”

“If the next time you hear from me is because I went and got myself arrested, just leave me to rot. I must have earned it,” she smirked.

...

Luckily, the next time one of them reached out to the other wasn’t to bail the former out of jail. May invited him to a pool party for her birthday, where he handily won a water balloon fight and impressed everyone by fixing the grill for their barbeque. Their friendship continued to progress naturally: movie nights that turned into impromptu sleepovers, brunches that turned into walks around town. Several shopping trips and video games and hikes later, they were each other’s best friends. It was basically inevitable.

So when? When would he have had the chance to fall in love with her?

...

“Hello?”

“Ash, you picked up!” she sounded surprised―happy, but surprised―and he winced. He knew he’d been blowing her off a little more often lately, but making her think he’d turn down her phone call?

“Heh, yeah, sorry about that,” he said, betting on the hope that she somehow implicitly understood everything he was apologising for. “Is everything okay?”

For an extended second, she was quiet, then she said, “I need to tell you something.”

His hackles rose, and he started grabbing his keys and putting on his shoes. Maybe she finally ended up in jail. “Where are you? I can be there in ten minutes, maybe twenty with traffic―”

She giggled, and he paused. That was her nervous giggle. “May?” he asked, still wary but not about to race out of his house with only his boxers on.

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just… Steven told me he loves me.”

His breath left his lungs.

“And I told him I love him back,” she continued.

All the adrenaline that had surged through his body only moments before completely left him at her words, and his limbs locked up instead. He felt cold.

“Hello?”

He didn’t even realise he had sunk to his knees until he meant to take a step back towards the couch. He just slumped onto his butt. “That’s―” He had to clear his throat. “That’s gotta be recent.”

He could slap himself. He sounded as dead as he felt. He tried again: “I mean, that’s great news, May! He’s a lucky guy. Yeah.”

She sighed with relief. Could Steven tell what her sighs meant over the phone? ”I’m the lucky one, I think,” she said happily, and that was his last straw.

“Heh, yeah, well,” he sputtered out, just to have something to say. “Listen, since you’re not in danger or anything, uh, you actually caught me at a bad time, so I gotta go. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

“Wait, Ash! Before you go!”

He held back a sigh. “What’s up, May?”

“It’s just… You’re right; it is recent. You’re actually the first person I told.”

“I’m honoured.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm that spilled out, but he backtracked quickly. “I mean it. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course, Ash; I tell you everything. At this point, it’s like I have to; nothing would ever feel real otherwise.”

He shut his eyes. He really couldn’t take this anymore. “I know what you mean. Same here.”

She made a cute sound, a quiet little ‘hmm,’ and that was when the first tear spilled out. “Alright, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll text you later!!” she promised.

“Later,” he repeated, both an echo and a goodbye; and finally, blissfully, he ended the call.

...

When, when, when?!

That was supposed to be one of the sweetest moments of her young adult life, and she called on him―trusted him, even―to be happy for her. When did he get to the point where he couldn’t even do that? Instead, he recalls it now as he struggles to fall asleep, playing the memory at half-speed over and over again in his imagination, and all he does is hope.

He desperately hopes it’ll stop hurting so much.

~~~

fall for someone with the sweetest rebel heart

When he finds out he didn’t get the promotion he was vying for at work, there’s no one else’s comfort he sought but May’s.

“I’m sorry that happened, Ash,” May soothes as she rubs rhythmic circles into Ash’s back. They’re in her condo, noticeably nicer maintained than Ash’s flat, side by side on the sofa. It is the first time he’s let her touch him in weeks, and he really needs it. “At least now they know you’re interested? It might be your turn next time.”

Ash snorts but nods anyway. He’s usually the type to look at the bright side, but it would be an understatement to say that he is simply disappointed. After all the L’s he’s been taking in his personal life, he had been hoping at least something would go his way professionally.

May continues, “Just make sure not to let this setback actually set you back. Keep putting your best foot forward, and I know you’ll win those guys over… just like you did with me!” She ends with a wink, trying her hardest to inject some levity into the situation.

Just like that, Ash’s mood sours even more. “You can’t say that to me, May,” he angrily replies as he shuffles out of her hold.

“What are you talking about?” she pouts as she feebly tries to get him to lay back against the couch so that the cold air can’t get under the blanket they are sharing.

“I didn’t ‘win you over,’ clearly.” He shrugs off her touch and scoots away. He has spent so long trying to keep his bitterness inside, but he doesn’t have the emotional wherewithal to regulate himself right now. He’s tired of trying to get over things that make him upset.

May frowns, the furrow between her brow getting deeper as she sits up straight on the sofa. “Ash, why are you talking like that? I meant, like, how we became friends, obviously. I didn’t grow to love you by accident.”

Ash stands then, balling the blanket up and throwing it back on the couch. “I bet Steven wouldn’t be too happy to hear you say that.”

She follows suit, her voice elevating in volume as if to match. “I bet Steven wouldn’t appreciate being judged by someone who’s only met him once―despite my efforts otherwise, might I add.”

“I bet Steven would love to hear his girlfriend say she loves another guy.”

“I bet Steven isn’t dumb enough to think I can’t love you both.”

“You don’t love me, May!” Ash finally explodes.

He has never raised his voice like this, not to her, but he’s tired. He’s tired of loving someone he can’t have, he’s tired of hating himself for it, and he’s tired of the guilt when he takes it out on her despite all his attempts not to.

She looks like she’s torn between yelling right back or kicking him out; and before she could make up her mind, he collects himself enough so he could bring his voice down. He states simply, “Not the way you love Steven.” Not the way I love you.

He doesn’t say it, but he can tell she hears it anyway. He clears his throat and turns around, trying to hide without running away. “Hearts don’t work like that,” he murmurs into the room.

He makes to leave, but May’s hand on his shoulder stops him. She forcibly turns him back to face her, and Ash is shocked at the determined set to her face. Her eyes, bluer than a water stone and twice as powerful, hold him as captive as they always have. “You listen to me, Ash Ketchum.” Her tone brokers no argument. “If you thought for a second that I stopped loving you because I fell in love with Steven, you clearly underestimated what my heart is capable of.”

Her grip on him tightens, as if making sure he is still with her in the moment. “It’s big enough for the both of you; and if that’s not the way hearts are supposed to work, then I’ll just be the exception that proves the rule.”

She pulls him into a hug then, like locking that promise between them, and he dares let himself hope she means that.

~~~

fall for someone whose heart needs sewing up

Ash wasn’t expecting a knock on his door this late at night, and he definitely wasn’t expecting to see a beautifully made up May Maple standing in the hallway, mascara-tinged tears and runny nose notwithstanding.

"Steven is moving to Alola to support Devon Corp’s expansion," is all she said, but even that much is hard to make out through her watery voice.

The news sinks in, and Ash’s heart feels like someone moved it three centimetres to the left: still there, still functional, but not at all where he needs it to be.

"You’ve always talked about going to Alola," is the only way he could respond, thinking of all the times they’ve imagined taking a week off and vacationing in the tropical region. He won’t, can’t let himself think about anything else or else he’d break down.

In his heartbreak, he cannot recognise May's tears, which are too raw and too loud to be that of someone bearing regrettable news. These are the tears of a confused, broken heart.

"Ash, I'm not going," she sniffles, still stiffly standing outside his door. "He asked me not to."

Finally understanding that he misunderstood, Ash is even more disoriented than he was before. "Why would he do that?" he asks, obviously still trying to wrap his mind around what the hell was happening.

"I don’t know!" May yells while clenching her fists and stomping a high-heeled foot. It is the most movement she's made since he opened the door. "I demanded a reason, and he spewed nonsense at me! He said―" and she stops. Her whole body slumps back into stillness but without the stiffness of before. She continues quietly, "He said he didn’t want to see what I’d look like with my heart so far outside of my chest," like a guilty confession. Ash is at once reminded of their almost-fight a month ago, and he still isn’t sure what this all means.

He almost asks, Why wouldn’t he believe your heart was right where you were? or How capable is the human heart now? but he doesn’t.

Instead, he finally welcomes May inside. He sits her on the couch and helps her take off her heels before she wraps herself up in the blanket he keeps there―a blanket he only has, he remembers, because when she first visited his apartment, she insisted his couch needed one. She doesn’t just hold the blanket around her shoulders; she hides her entire frame within its folds. He merely sits on the couch next to the lump and places a solitary hand on top, unsure where it was resting yet hoping it is providing comfort nevertheless.

He wonders if May ever let Steven see her like this, the way she needs to shut out all stimuli as if to physically recreate her darkest moments. He wonders why he loves that she does that, even though it causes him so much selfish pain to be close enough to see her like this but shut out from her healing.

"I don’t think I have a boyfriend anymore," May says at length, voice dampened by the space and fabric between them.

It would have been the happiest news of Ash’s adult life if it weren’t for the extreme melancholy that laced her tone as she said it out loud.

He squeezes his hand into a fist on top of the blanket, his signal that he’d like to hug her if he could.

"I would have missed you if you left." Ash gives a nonsequitur-confession in response. May burrows deeper into the blankets and says nothing.

Instead, she reaches a hand out from a heretofore unseen opening in the fabric and holds on to his other hand tightly.

Ash stares at her slender knuckles, made paler from her firm grasp, and stops hoping.

He gently plies her fingers from his palm and tries not to feel guilty about the shocked, embarrassed way the hand pulls back into the blanket as he leaves her there.

The love of his life needs compassion right now. This is not his opportunity to sweep her off her feet; this is not his second chance.

He returns from the bedroom, settles back into his place on the couch, and forces May out of the blanket.

~~~

May jerks her head up, shocked and angry and still embarrassed from her rejected attempt to seek Ash’s comfort, but she is quickly mollified into confusion. The expected sight of Ash’s lit up form in his lit up living room ends up being no different from the blackness from which she thought she was rudely taken.

It is so dark under the extra, larger blanket that she can’t even see Ash’s nose even though she can sense his head is mere inches from hers.

His hands find hers in the darkness and squeeze. Relief flashes through her as she finally surrenders to the deep, thick slice of heartbreak.

May wants to see his face, but she settles for a hug.

[hypmic-writings]

Congrats on your 2nd year! So glad I came across your account. Your fics truly inspire me to write again. I’m the one who asked for the father-daughter bits but that could defo wait. For now, a 73 for Doppo, pretty please with a female colleague who’s slightly his opposite. Thank you so much! 🥰

73. “How did they…how are they doing that?”

Thank you, and I’m glad I was able to inspire you a bit! Yes, once the askbox is open again, definitely send in that request, it was super cute!

I’m so sorry, I don’t know what this is. You don’t know what this is. Your cat doesn’t know what this is. I know this was a suggestive prompt, but I just had this idea and decided to run with it. There’s definitely more suggestive Doppo in the inbox though, so don’t worry, you’ll get some NSFW with him, I promise! Hope this is okay and that you enjoy this regardless~

Word Count: 1,867

Genre: NSFW (PG-13); Fluff

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You walked through the empty hall of the art museum, tapping your pen against the clipboard and going over the itinerary once more. This was the 10th anniversary for the annual gala that your company put on and you were easily chosen to be on the planning committee due to your friendly demeanor. You had taken on the duties with a smile and grace only you possessed.

“Should this go here?” Doppo asked, pulling you attention away from your clipboard of action items and towards a box of party favors.

“Yea, that’s perfect, you can leave them right there. The others will be back tomorrow morning so they can finish up before the evening,” you said, shooting him a smile. You watched him closely as he nodded and shuffled off to grab the rest of the boxes before sighing to yourself.

How could a grown man be so…cute?

You had been working with Doppo for over a year now and you still weren’t sure if he considered you a friend, although if you had it your way, you would be much more than friends. What had started as admiration for your colleague’s work ethic quickly into a small crush which then quickly turned into wanting more.

But you had only ever had conversations in passing with Doppo before this. Maybe that was why you had chosen him to be a part of the planning committee for the gala. You remembered back to when you had first asked him to join you and how stressed and flustered, he had reacted. You had immediately retracted your invitation, but for some reason or another he insisted that he had time for it.

Unbeknownst to you, Doppo felt quite the same way.

Whenever he was constantly under the stress and pressures of work, you were his saving grace. If coworkers were trying to chat him up in the break room and he was becoming anxious, you were always there to turn the attention elsewhere. Whenever he didn’t know how to respond to his boss or a client, you were somehow there with a solution or answer.

Your happy-go-lucky personality mixed with your hard-work and determination made you someone that Doppo admired. Well…he admired you in other ways too. Your eyes were always sparkling with happiness or excitement and it made him feel comfortable around you. Along with thinking you were absolutely stunning, he would always watch the way that you smiled and laughed around other colleagues, and would feel a little jealous.

There was no way someone as perfect as you could ever love a useless nobody like him…right?

“Okay, that should be it,” you said, marking off the last box on your To-Do list. “Thanks for all your help, Doppo!” you exclaimed enthusiastically. Doppo nodded and walked over to you.

“It’s kind of late…were you going to take the bus back? We can get a cab if you want. That might be safer…” he offered, his voice small, but echoing in the large room. You hummed a little as you looked around.

“Actually, I wanted to take a look at some of the paintings before heading home,” you mentioned, glancing around the room. “Do you want to look at them with me?” you offered sweetly.

Doppo felt his heart race in his chest at the prospect of spending more time alone with you as he nodded slowly.

“Yes, I wouldn’t mind that at all,” he said, rather quickly, feeling the heat rise to his ears as he turned his gaze away from you. Your smile faltered a bit at his reaction and you wondered if he was feeling burdened by your ask. Was he only staying because he felt obligated?

“O-okay! Let’s start here then!” you said, pushing away your doubts and walking over to the closest wall.

The paintings lining the walls were all complex, abstract pieces. This was the modern wing of the museum and most had been donated by wealthy individuals. You gazed over each one, taking your time to look at them, fascinated by what you thought you could see and what the artist was trying to portray.

Doppo was silently watching your intensely focused face from beside you and noted the way that you mindlessly bit into your lip when you were concentrating hard. It was something he had noticed when you were working on projects together and something he had found extremely adorable.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, preparing to ask you the question he had been preparing all night.

“Y/N – ”

“Hey Doppo – ”

You both glanced at each other in surprise as you spoke simultaneously. You smiled a bit and offered him to speak first but he insisted that you continue.

“I was just going to ask what you think this painting is,” you said, turning towards the painting and tilting your head slightly. “It’s called Lovebug but I can’t really make out anything,” you added, bringing a finger to your chin.

Doppo followed your gaze to the painting and took a step closer to you as he looked into the bright, vibrant red hues that covered a white canvas. He followed your lead and tilted his head, trying to make out any shapes.

“Oh wait…that kind of looks like a man,” you said, pointing towards the left side of the canvas. Doppo imagined the outline of a man and squinted ever so slightly.

“Ah, yes…it kind of does,” he said, nodding a bit. He was still nervous from moments before, but the painting was a good distraction and he was now interested to figure out what it was.

“Oh, that also kind of looks like…” you mentioned, trailing off a bit. Doppo raised eyebrows as he looked over at you. To his surprise your face was flushed and your eyes had widened a bit.

“What?” he asked, suddenly confused as he looked back at the painting.

“Nothing…uh…,” you began. You feared having to explain exactly what it was you saw, but by the look in his eyes you knew he was concerned.

“Y/N, are you okay? W-what did you see in the painting?” he asked, hurriedly, his voice filled with worry. You shook your head, feeling the heat rise to your face as you pointed back to it slowly. The picture that was blurry was now clear as day and you found yourself embarrassed when looking at it.

Especially when the man you were interested in was standing right next to you.

“Nothing…just…” you began before sighing a bit. “It’s…um…it also has an outline of a woman in the middle,” you explained, trying to get Doppo to see what you were seeing. Now it was Doppo who was intensely staring at the canvas as you watched him closely.

“I don’t…” Doppo began, before the imagine in front of him suddenly became clear. There was a moment of silence as he stared at the painting before he tilted his head slightly. “Oh…how did they…how are they doing that?” he mumbled, his face also flushing a bit.

His mind was screaming at him to say something, anything, to make the situation less awkward. But the idea of commenting on such a sexual, lewd painting when the current center of his affections was right next to him seemed cruel and impossible.

You glanced back at the painting, clearing your throat quickly. This was ridiculous, there was not reason to be this nervous in front of a colleague. It was a painting in a museum, not some picture on a shady internet website.

“I’m…not sure…” you stated, plainly. “But, I’m sure the artist meant to convey strong meanings of lust and passion or something like that…red as a color is used that way a lot,” you explained, trying to lighten the tension of the room. Doppo nodded along in agreement.

“Yes, I’ve heard that as well,” he added, actively avoiding glancing back at the painting.

“Like this one!” you exclaimed, quickly pointing to the next painting. “Look at how the red is used to convey passion, but as anger instead of lust,” you explained, already feeling less awkward.

You and Doppo finished looking at the paintings rather quickly and before you knew it you were back where you started.

“That was nice!” you exclaimed, you usual exuberance returned. “Thanks for looking at them with me. I think tomorrow is going to be a complete success,” you added, giving Doppo a thumbs up.

“Yes, I agree. Thank you for letting me join you…” he said, his voice a bit softer than usual. “Ah, and yes! The gala tomorrow is going to be good. You worked really hard on it, so I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” he added, more strongly.

You were about to mention that you were going to take a cab home when you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh hey,” you began, turning to face Doppo. “What were you going to tell me before? I cut you off and you never told me,” you said, smiling kindly at him, trying not to think of the awkward moment with the painting that had taken place after that conversation.

Doppo felt his heart skip a beat at your words. He knew exactly what he was going to ask you, he just needed to do it.

‘What if she says no? What if I ask her and she shoots me down? Will she hate me forever? Would she laugh at me? There’s no way, right? What if she thinks it’s harassment? Will she tell my boss and everyone at work? Oh god, am I going to get fired? But I need this job for the money for rent! Am I going to get kicked out of the apartment if I don’t have it in time? And what if I get put on a list and then I can never have another job and I won’t have any money and I won’t – ’

“Doppo?” you asked, as the man in front of you seemed to snap back to reality. You frowned a bit and looked at him was worry. “Are you okay? You were kind of mumbling something but it sounded like you were in pain,” you explained, reaching out, but stopping before you put a hand on his arm.

“Ah, no, it’s nothing like that!” he exclaimed quickly. He took a deep breath and tried to remember what Jakurai had told him to do whenever he felt a mild panic attack.

You waited patiently for Doppo to compose himself and once he did, you were surprised to see an unusual look of resolve and confidence in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice strong. “Will you accompany me to the gala tomorrow night?”

As soon as his words left his lips you felt your heart rate speed up. You were surprised, of course, but you were also beginning to feel ecstatic. You bit back a grin as you discovered that Doppo in fact did return your feelings and you quickly nodded at him.

“Yes, I would really like that,” you said, nodding happily.

You watched as a smile of relief covered Doppo’s lips as he excitedly asked you what time you wanted to meet and where.

[arcticdementor]

I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production  and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

And on.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

[shiroganeryo]

ah, if you're still doin the character thing, how about Lenalee? (I didn't see anybody asking about her, but if sb did, sorry! maybe Johnny then?)

I’m sorry for the delay on replying to this one! This is probably the last ask thingy I’ll be doing for the Character Questions, as they take me some time to type and I’ve been busy 💓 But thank you all very much for the interest in these, I really love writing for stuff like this! I’ll be covering both Lenalee and Johnny in this one - so, a two character reply again! I was hoping someone would give me Lena so the OT4 was complete, but I also really love Johnny... 😭 

Lenalee

My otp for them: With Lavi! I had never paid much attention to the two of them as a couple, but after I reread the series last year, they have grown on me. Lavi has been Lenalee’s emotional support many times and it’s clear he cares about her. People would consider that the time he snapped at her for grieving over “losing Allen” was bad, but I quite don’t think he meant harm; rather, I think he kinda acted on impulse because he wanted her to feel better. He marvelously made up for that during the following arcs (”I didn’t come here to stop you; this is your decision to make. Just let me come along.” - 150th Night). Those interactions made me like them a lot as a pairing. My brotp for them: Miranda! She played a big part in Miranda’s life, and I’m sure they got really close thanks to that. Imagining them doing all the girly things together without a care in the world makes me so happy 🥺 It’s like getting to see the happy girl Lenalee could have been, if she weren’t another victim of the war. I also used to ship them because I have no self-control apparently, so. XD Any other ships: Have you all ever considered her and Emilia? 💦 Both share guts and very strong legs, it seems. I can picture them bonding easily over shared interests and it makes me weak. I also love Lenalee and Kanda’s relationship, so they also get the cake here. As for Allen, they make a beautiful pairing, but only when it comes to appearance to me; imo they would need to work many things out, personally speaking, to work in a healthy way for both. Their best friend: Miranda, Jeryy and Kanda! Miranda, for the reasons stated above; Jeryy, because he was her “motherly figure” when she was growing up and needed a feminine, understanding input from someone she could feel comfortable around. And Kanda, due to their relationship as “childhood friends”, in a way. Lenalee loves everyone close to her, but I see these three being the ones she’s the closest to. My favorite nickname for them: “Lena”, given by Kanda. It just sounds so cute and delicate; it suits her. My favorite AU headcanon of them: People often say they would like to see Lenalee abandon the Order and join Allen’s side. I say the opposite; she should stay. She could be a big helping hand on throwing a rebellion of sorts that could benefit him from the inside. That way she wouldn’t need to abandon the people she loves for Allen’s sake, but would still be on his side, on her own way. My favorite outfit they wear: Lenalee has the cutest chinese themed outfits! The ones I love the most are the one she used during the Zombie arc, and this one I saw her wearing on Gray Log. She looks so darn cute, too precious for this world. *gross sobbing* Defining color: When I think of her, I think of several shades of green, namely Fern (#4F7942) and Pine (#01796F). I also think of deep red (#D30000), because of the ribbons she uses on her hair and the shapes of her Crystal Type Innocence. Would I date them: Lenalee is a strong, amazing girl! However, I wouldn’t date her. She can also be headstrong, and so am I hahah At times, I find myself thinking we’re similar in the way we’re insistent (at the risk of being unreasonable) about some things and I quite don’t see that working out at all 😅 First impression: Bland. Nice character, but her design didn’t interest or stand out at all to me. Dark Boots are an awesome Innocence though! Current impression: I really like her. Not one of my favorite characters, and I have a lot of criticism when it comes to Lenalee, but I love her design and the development she got so far. I started taking her more seriously after the fight against Eshi; it was one heck of an awesome fight! The way she put everything on the line on that suicidal move was impressive; so badass. Hogwarts House: As much as I would love to assign her to Gryffindor for her commendable courage, Lenalee’s home is in Hufflepuff! Before anything else, she cares deeply for the people she loves, and will sacrifice herself for them without thinking twice. Loyalty and kindness are her most prominent trait, but that doesn’t make her a pushover in the slightest. Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Torchic! According to the Pokédex entries, Torchic feels warm to the touch and this makes it very huggable. I have this type of impression about her, warm and welcoming. It also develops a fighting type upon evolving, and Blaziken are well known for their strong legs and jumping capacity!

Johnny

My otp for them: With Cache! I’m very weak for couples where the woman looks (and is) stronger than the guy, and we’ve seen her carrying Johnny to the medical wing before - an occurence that, according to her, happens a lot. He seems to have a crush on her, seeing his reaction (fidgety, blushing) when he was saying goodbye to his science friends. According to Vol. 27′s Discussion Room, the scrunchy he’s using to tie his hair used to be hers, and I love how Allen went “hmm, I see...” when he told them she had given it to him hahah (it’s alright, Allen; I ship it too 👌) My brotp for them: Allen, hands down. Differently from what people say, Johnny has always supported and cherished Allen, what he’s doing for him now isn’t out of the blue. It was actually what Johnny told him that started to change his perception on things and realize that his heart longed to be with the ones he loves despite the hardships (”As Johnny Gill and your friend, I’m going to help you!”, - 215th Night). He loves him, and I can tell how important he is for Allen too; he was able to come back from Nea’s inner world thanks to Johnny’s calling that reminded him of his ties with everyone in “Home”. This part has some of my favorite scenes from the entire series; Johnny didn’t even bat an eye, he simply jumped for Allen. I called it Allen would avoid their fall, but Johnny patting his head in happiness and relief and then hugging him, to which Allen returned, as relieved and happy for having come back... It was so sweet and hopeful. It brings good tears to my eyes!  Any other ships: I don’t have any~ Their best friend: I think Johnny is friends with pretty much all of his buddies from the Science Division, but I notice him being closer to Reever. I would like to mention Suman as well; despite him being deceased, Johnny still seems to hold a fond memory of him. And then comes Allen who’s clearly someone important to him, and it doesn’t seem to be one-sided, judging by the time they (used to) spend together having fun. My favorite nickname for them: I don’t have one! But Johnny deserves cute nicknames, let’s give him some, Hoshino-sensei? 👀 My favorite AU headcanon of them: I don’t have one because Johnny is already perfect as a character and for the plot as he already is imho. All I wish is for him to survive until the ending. Hang in there, Johnny! Allen needs you, but for all you’ve been doing, you deserve to make it out alive and earn your own happiness! My favorite outfit they wear: Out of all the characters, I feel like Johnny is the one that has the most “stripped-down” style, quite modern looking. But I love his current outfit the most! He looks great in vests and the long coat definitely reminds me of the lab coats he used to wear while in the Order. I also like a lot more how his hairdo is atm, it looked a little painful to have tied for too long in the previous style (similar to pigtails). His new frame glasses are also pretty! Gives him a more serious look. Defining color: Curiously enough, I think of an array of varied colors when I think of Johnny? I can’t seem to be able to pick one. There is black, yellow like Mustard (#FEDC56), brown like Cherrywood (#CB6F36) and blue like Maya (#73C2FB), to name some. Would I date them: But of course! Johnny is the sweetest guy I’ve ever seen. He gives off all the geek vibes, but not on the annoying way; he looks like the type of person that would talk lots about things that make him happy, excitedly, while you’d look at him go, feeling blessed with all the bright energy vibes emanating from him. He’s also shown to be extremely supportive, and honestly, everyone deserves someone like him 🥺 First impression: Regular geek scientist guy? Current impression: *incoherent sobbing* I love him so much! Why does Johnny not have more appreciation?! Why do people think he’s annoying??? Anyone who loves Allen gotta admit this guy is the MVP. He’s the trope you’d expect for a smartsy science guy, and at the same time, he’s not only that. I’ve babbled enough on that in the reply under this question. Hogwarts House: I’m in a tie between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, but I think I would give him Gryffindor. People would be quick to place him in Ravenclaw for his smarts and his love for learning, but this guy is extremely courageous. Despite being seen as “weak” and fragile, he was the one to stand up for Allen in multiple occasions throughout the series. He’s also the one who confronted the Earl to ask him what he wanted with the 14th (196th Night), while no one had really questioned or directly talked to him. He left the Order to go after Allen, knowing he was awakening as a Noah (which is already dangerous on its own) and would be in constant situations of peril because of Akuma and other Noah. Johnny, the “regular guy”, did all that, having no care as to what could happen to him. So, Gryffindor for his extreme courage, but maybe Hufflepuff for his honest loyalty and goodness. Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Grookey! The way Grookey and its evolutions handle wood makes me think they’re skilled Pokémon that can craft things and know how to use them as instruments, just like Johnny does with his scientific creations. The tied “hair” also reminds me of him!

[fragileizywriting]

friends (part one)

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Oh, Tikki— what an absolute idiot she’s been, never allowing herself to fully embrace cuddling him. How could she have lived this long, not allowing herself to tuck herself into his chest as they sleep? The tattoo on his chest is so warm against the palm she has up against him— her other hand slung across the muscle of his arm. Even while completely gone and completely asleep— his claws trace soft patterns against her bare back— following the curvature of her spine— making her produce so many shivers that she feels like hiding her face in her pillow.

His magic, too— it curls against hers lazily, basking against how they fit with each other, just as comfortable and interlocked as they are physically. His magic isn’t as responsive when she pokes at it with hers— he’s asleep, for sure, she can tell by the way it lags in its responses from her ministrations— but it continues to mold against hers like a bubble. Even in his sleep, Chat Noir wants nothing more than to curl his magic against hers.

She feels giddy.

They’re completely and totally enveloped with one another— intertwined and so cozy that she feels safe and protected, physically and magically. She could fall asleep just like this, basking in his warmth, basking in the cocoon they’ve made for themselves with the bedsheets and how— even if they’re naked— she’s never felt warmer and more at ease in bed in her life. She could tuck herself closer to the point she has no idea where he ends and she begins, if it weren’t for her insatiable need to look at him— she’s never been able to watch Chat Noir sleep before.

He looks younger when asleep.

She never knew that.

Obviously she hasn’t exactly had the ability to notice something like that— he’s only ever slept in his cat form for the year they’ve been together, changing into sleep clothes just out of sheer habit— but it’s such a shame. She never wants to sleep again, if she can just look at him instead. She doesn’t want to miss out on any of it.

There is something princely about him, but she can’t place what it is— maybe it’s the color of his hair that matches all of the gold pieces she’s seen in her lifetime. Is it his jawline? His nose? The shape of his eyes— even while closed? All of these put together turn out to be a beautiful masterpiece, one that she wishes she could sculpt, but knows she’d never get close to his likeness, even if she spent years at it. Even with all the good fortune in the world, she wouldn’t be a good enough sculpture to pinpoint exactly why or how she sees him as the prince he’s always claimed he is.

She can’t stop looking at him. She doesn’t want to stop looking at him.

She’s never given herself the chance to look at him until now— she doesn’t want to stop.

She relishes every single pore. Every eyelash. She follows the sweep of his brows with her gaze— apprehensive to touch him and shatter this moment, but finds herself reaching anyway— studies how there isn’t any angle to his brows while he sleeps from the lack of thoughts or whatever that worries him. She’s much more inclined to actually believe that he’s the prince of hell as she looks at him now, petting at his under eyes with her thumb, enraptured with how fairy-tale-like his face is. With his eyes closed— his teeth hidden behind his lips— she’s even almost under the impression that Chat Noir is, in fact, human.

Well. He sure used to be— that’s the truth. They know that for sure.

But she’s not sure about him being Adrien, and she knows why he doesn’t want to say it out loud. It wouldn’t be fair to get their hopes up… that the man in front of her used to be the boy she would go visit when he was feeling sick— the same boy that would spend hours a week teaching her how to read the Latin alphabet— the same boy who laughed and giggled with Nino for hours on end about who-knows-what whenever their friend group got together. The boy who first brought Luka into the friend group with a friendly wave and a smile and a tug at the naga’s hands— oh, if Chat Noir really is that same boy— how ironic!

His hair is the same as Adrien’s— a beautiful gold, regal and shiny. His pupils aren’t the same shape— she’s certain that Adrien had human eyes— but the green color could be the same. She knows that there’s magic at play, so she can’t consider any of this to be physical proof that they’re the same person— but it’s hard not to see the similarities now that it’s been brought to her attention. But even Chat’s teeth are different than a humans— there’s no telling what else the magic has changed. Hair color— eye color— who knows if all of his human attributes were changed once he became a demon.

But…

But none of that matters.

She doesn’t mind it. Adrien, or no Adrien— she’s fallen in love with Chat Noir. The beautiful, gorgeous man who continues to trace circles on her back with his claws that are deadly— the same claws that rip and tear through flesh like nothing— with blonde smudges of his eyelashes resting against his cheekbones. She traces his lips with her fingertips, wondering if it’ll be okay if she can kiss him.

“You think too loud, Princess.” His voice feels tender against her fingers. The arm around her waist curls and pulls her into him as he continues to kiss her nails so softly it feels like a breeze— oh, sweet Tikki— she’s shivering already. He moves his tail so that it thumps against the mattress underneath the bedsheets, so she’s aware that he’s trying to stop himself from pouting, pulling her closer and closer to keep her goosebumps from getting worse.

The great Chat Noir…

An absolute cuddler of a man. Truly— completely cuddly. Amorous— a cuddle pile— a purring machine. Turned absolutely honeyed and pliable under her fingertips.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m just admiring you,” She kisses the skin closest to her mouth. It’s somewhere in between the ball of his shoulder and the line of his collarbone. “I can finally see you again, now that there’s sunlight— I don’t want to stop looking at you.”

“Mmm.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I don’t think you were all that upset after a bit— I got you distracted real easily yesterday.”

“You’re right.” She feels her face heat. Even after all of it— how her body feels like a well-blended mixture between sore and relaxed— her face twitches in a way that she can’t comprehend. She feels bashful— and hides her worries by continuing to kiss the same patch of skin over and over and over until he laughs at the sensation.

“Sleep for a little longer, little witch,” His voice rumbles against her forehead as she presses it against his chest. The tattoo is so beautiful on his skin. “I want to enjoy this a little longer with you.”

It’s not often that Chat Noir uses his side of the contract to get what he wants— but it’s often enough that she doesn’t strange the way her ears burn at his words. Their contract works both ways, after all— especially now that their arrangement has been changed so that they’re both obligated to one another. Her body— heart, and more— are now his, too.

“We spent the entirety of yesterday in bed—” She pouts when he curls her into him some more. She laughs at his attempt to hush her. “Chat, come on.”

“Let me spend time with you, my Lady. I’ll start begging, if I have to.”

“We have every day for the rest of our lives to be together,” She sighs, bringing her arm around him, following the lines of his strong upper back with her fingertips. Her eyes are slipping shut, willingly following through with his wish to sleep longer with her. “And… we have… work to do. The festival… is today…”

He hushes her with a purr, rubbing his nose and jaw into her hair. “Let me enjoy my witch for longer, please— we have so many chores to do before it starts tonight— but we can think about it later. Later. All of it later, I promise.”

She smiles, even as her magic starts to slow— gentle and soft pushes against his. She is a gentle current— as soft and serene as an ocean wave. “Your witch?”

“Yes, mine, thank you.” He sounds proud. Silly cat. His purring is so soothing against her ear— and, truly, it has been years since she’s taken more than one day off from all of her chores. Chat Noir can just use his magic to do all of the chores from the bed anyway, right? “You smell like me, you know.”

“Do… I?”

“Yes, finally. It took a whole day of snuggling you, but—” He sniffs. “And, no, I’m not a territorial man, truly, I’m not— but it’s so pleasing to know that you smell like me.”

“Body and soul are yours,” She barely moves her lips together to speak.

There’s a pause in their conversation just enough for her to start drifting off to sleep. The air is cold outside the blanket, she can feel it against the spot on her forearms that pokes out of their bedsheets, tracing every scar and every raised line of skin on his back— and she’s nearly completely asleep in an instant.

He sniffs again. “Although— hm— there’s another smell in the house— I just can’t figure out what it is—”

There’s a third voice in the room as the bedroom door gets pushed open, bringing more sunlight into the room. “Before you complain, I have my eyes closed, I know you humans are particular about your sleep garments being seen— are you two alive in here?”

Marinette shoots up from bed with a scream, pulling the covers higher up her bare chest. There’s sunlight everywhere— pouring over them like a sheet. “What in the— Luka?”

The world comes rushing back to her ears with noise.

Something smacks into the naga’s pinched face, and he tumbles back into the hallway simply out of whiplash. His tail follows him out, slithering against the floor with that hushing noise she’s come to recognize as the sound that nagas make— oh, Tikki— what in the world was that?

“What in the—” He curses in the hallway. “A simple yes would’ve been fine, really!”

She only registers that it’s her own pillow she’s thrown when Chat Noir’s laughter consumes him as he speaks, howling so hard that she can barely hear Luka’s curses in the hallway. He wraps an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer, snickering into her ear. “Good job, Princess— right in the kisser. Who knew you had an arm on you? Here, use mine next.”

“Get— Chat— go and help him or something—” She makes a face at him while whispering, pushing at his— naked! Oh no!— thigh under the bedsheets, forcing him to get out of bed and get ready and deal with the naga that tends to a bruised nose. He slips out with a snicker, and Marinette tries not to squeak at the eyeful she gets of a beautiful golden backside. Oh— is that where his tail connects to his spine? Wow. “Oh, Tikki— Luka, are you okay? I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“That makes one of us.” Chat voices as he picks through a drawer for clothes.

“Chat!”

Luka’s laughter is good-humored in the hallway. “Ah, that was you who threw it? In that case— I’m fine, I’m fine. I didn’t expect that throw from you, I’ll be honest— but I’m fine, I promise. You surprised me, that’s all.”

“I’m so sorry, oh Tikki— I’m so sorry.”

“Relax, little pearl. The pillow didn’t hurt— though I am smelling blood. I can’t look yet, so tell me: am I bleeding, kitty-cat?”

“Give me a second, I’ll make sure you start smelling blood for real,” Chat finds pants to slip on. He turns to her before going through the door— giving her a lookover from how she no doubt looks disheveled, hiding behind their bedsheets, hair completely a mess on her shoulders and pooling down to her lap. “Alright, you noodle with teeth, let’s see what the damage is before you start crying.”

Chat winks at her with a Cheshire grin, closing the door behind him, leaving Marinette to bite her lips and pat at her cheeks with a squeak and a full-on curl of her toes.

-*-

“Alright, so, why are you here again?” Chat pours out a bit of hot water into the teacup in front of the naga. There are leaves already inside of the cup from a jar that Luka’s brought along with him in the giant pouch he carries on his shoulder. It smells like dried apples— but Chat’s nose is so full of Marinette’s scent that it’s hard to smell anything except lemon and milksoap and her.

He’d been caught completely off guard with Luka showing up into the house. He hadn’t even heard him— and Luka isn’t exactly silent on floorboards when he slithers along it. He must’ve been too caught up trying to get Marinette to stop worrying.

Luka stares at him with something glinting in his blue eyes. If he cared enough, he’d try to pick at it and see what exactly it is— but it’s too early in the morning, and all he’s dreaming about is being back in Marinette’s arms again. Besides, it doesn’t take much to recognize what the look even is— Chat is many things, but he isn’t stupid. “We promised the town we would get fish for the festival.”

“Mm.”

“Since we’re the only two competent fishermen there is.”

“There are plenty of good fishermen in town.” He can’t exactly name them at the top of his head— again, it’s too early in the morning, and Marinette is warm and soft in their bed that is the size of a shoebox, and she tastes far sweeter on his tongue than the tea he’s mixing in his own cup, he’s sure of it.

“They’re good for humans, but they never have enough for the festival. So we agreed we’d help out this year.”

“When did we say that?” He pauses, putting the teapot down on the table, his eyes narrowing at a dried speck of flour from yesterday’s adventures as he tries to think of it through. He shrugs. “Anyway— I mean, that’s fine. Sure. We need food, anyway— our icebox is almost out. I’m not in any condition to go boar hunting for this festival— I’ll leave a human to do it with their arrows and knives.”

“I do smell an injury on you.” Luka tilts his head. “Where is it?”

Chat’s found his discarded sleepshirt on the couch before he’d gotten Luka to stop complaining about his nose. It’d taken a bit to persuade his arm to move in the way he wanted it to so he could fit in it— but he’d gotten it on without tearing any of the sutures in his flesh. He hasn’t made the effort to tie the front of his shirt, though— he leaves it open, letting nearly a full quarter of his tattoo show through the gap of the shirt— and makes no point to hide it.

And, well— he’s not indecent, so Marinette certainly won’t berate him for it.

Aside from the fact that he doesn’t really care about human manners, and only keeps up with it to keep his witch sane— Luka himself isn’t human. He doesn’t dress like one, either— frequently sporting shirts and jackets with necklines that dip extremely low to the sternum— naga fashion is much less conservative.

It probably has something to do with the lack of legs— but it’s more likely that, since they spend most of their time swimming, there’s no point in using garments.

Regardless, whenever Luka around humans for a long period of the day, Chat Noir finds that the naga covers his upper body with long panels of shirts that almost look like dresses. Covered from neck down to not alarm humans with so much showing skin— the robes are covered with pearls along the sleeves.

But for the majority of times, Luka wears just a jacket, hiding away his upper arms with silk fabric rolled up to below elbow— holding together the jacket shut with a simple colored sash at where his hips should be, if he had legs.

There’s almost never a shirt underneath the jacket whenever he wears it.

Why does Chat Noir have to hide behind a well-maintained shirt when Luka doesn’t?

“Shoulder and bicep. My wounds are from teeth,” Chat says simply, sitting down and trying his best not to wince at his arm underneath his nightshirt.

“Not a coupling injury, is it?” Ah, there’s that sparkle in Luka’s eyes again. “Who would’ve guessed the little pearl is a biter?”

“Don’t—” His ears twitch heavy to the sides, trying to gauge if Marinette’s heard him. His witch is still in the bedroom, humming away to herself— he relaxes when he’s certain she hasn’t heard, but hisses anyway in his direction. “Shut up, Luka. Pretend you don’t know what we were up to— pretend that your nose isn’t that sensitive— Marinette will freak if she finds out you can smell that. The last thing I need is for you to send her into a panic.”

Ridiculous naga man. The only person on Earth who has a sense of smell as well as him— it just had to be him. If Luka was any less strong, Chat Noir is certain he would’ve already skinned him into a lovely shawl from all the trouble he keeps trying to cause. He just keeps trying to worm his way into scandals, it seems.

“Silent like a grave,” But that smile on Luka’s face is teasing enough— flashing the sides of his fangs. “So, then, what’s with the salve on your arm, if not her?”

“My father.” Isn’t exactly the best explanation, given that no one exactly believes that his father is the king of hell— it’s just part of the job description at this point, to be disappointed in his friend’s ability to believe in his words. Only Alya believes him— though he suspects it’s most likely because his stories sound more like spectacles and tall-tales than actual memories. “I won. But that means that my arm is torn to shit— so I’m good with not hunting boars for a little while.”

Luka hums into his cup in agreement, settling back onto his coils. It always sounds like it’s raining whenever Luka moves on the hardwood floors of the cottage— it makes his ears twitch. “Boars aren’t fun, are they? My scales are difficult for their tusks, but they just don’t stay still the way that eels do when I’ve got them— their hooves dig into whatever they get. Nasty little animals.”

“Quite boring, aren’t they?” He tries not to trip over the snake coil that makes its way from underneath the table to reach and pull at his ankle in retaliation for his joke. Luka’s blue and turquoise tail just ends up being everywhere in the house whenever he’s in it— he could be on the other side of the cottage and he’d still find a way to trip over a well-placed coil. “When’s the last time you molted?”

“How bold, Chat— you know that’s a personal thing to ask,” Luka doesn’t look upset. It’s hard to actually get him angry— Chat’s certain he’s never actually seen it. Everything seems to come easy for this man. “Only family and lovers get to ask questions such as intimate as that. Which one are you, kitty-cat?”

“Neither. I’m your worst nightmare,” Chat bats back. He needs more sugar in his tea. “I’m simply asking because your scales look fresh.”

“You noticed?” The naga perks up.

He agrees with a hum. “I just ask because it’ll be stupid for us to go hunting for boars if you look that clean— your scales might get injured.”

Luka looks proud, the stupid bastard. “I shed last week for the festival. I need to be on my best behavior, and of course look my best, if I’m going to get any favors or flowers. Some of us aren’t as lucky as you two in the love department, I’m afraid, and you know it’s important for suitors to notice how shiny our tails are. Looks like I’ve done my job well if you’ve picked up on it.”

It’s bait. He knows it’s bait— so he does the wise thing for once in his life and ignores it. “What time is it?”

“It’s late. Far too late for an early riser as you.”

He wipes at his eyes, because if he doesn’t keep them busy, they’ll be busy grappling with Luka— it’s on sight for the both of them, really— but it’s too early in the morning for that. He’ll give himself at least an hour of being properly awake before getting into wrestling matches with the naga. He’s a good host. He’s a good host. “I was preoccupied.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Luka laughs. “I could tell that with the scent alone. I nearly completely lost Marinette’s scent the moment I opened that door.”

“On with the important question, then: did you have to enter the bedroom?”

“My eyes were closed.”

“What if Marinette wasn’t decent?”

“She wasn’t,” Luka says simply, like he can’t tell that his words make Chat’s tail twitch. He takes another sip from his cup— the slow kind that is noisier than a regular sip— it’s enough to drive Chat’s ears crazy from the sharpness of the noise. Something flickers through Luka’s face as he places his cup back on the saucer, and reaches for the sugar to spoon some more in. “I kind of figured she wasn’t with the way she screamed.”

He narrows his eyes. “Why did you enter the house without knocking?”

“Easy, sweet kitty-cat. I know that you’re not actually angry with me, so let’s cut the grievances and stop pretending.” Luka laughs when Chat sinks into his chair with a huff. “I did knock. Lots. Your hens were getting restless inside their coup from not being let out on time— I collected your eggs for you. Took a couple for myself as payment— they’re delicious, by the way. You don’t make it a habit to forget your chores.”

“I wasn’t forgetting. I was just busy.”

“I came in to make sure you two were okay.” Luka leans into an open palm, his smile friendly and open. Almost languid— the cheeky bastard, his eyes glittering with flecks of gold as he continues to tease. “I’d knocked on your door previously with no answer.”

“Busy.”

“Forgive me for worrying,” Luka’s laughter is gentle. “The next time it happens, I’ll wait outside until you’re done snogging. And other things. Truly, have you seen your hair in the mirror? You look like an imported rug that’s taken a beating— what in the world has the little witch done to you?”

Chat matches him by resting his jaw on his own hand, mirroring each other across the table. “I’m sure my hair doesn’t look that bad.”

“You’re right. It usually looks worse when I’m done with you,” His eyes spark full to gold— molten lava for eyes with thin slitted pupils— but retreat back to a calm and natural blue when they both hear the bedroom door pull open.

His eyes flicker in Marinette’s direction as she walks into the kitchen with a worried look on her face. She’s laced herself into her stays— gone through with putting on all those petticoats and her over skirt that culminates in making her waist looking proportionately tiny compared to the fullness of her hips. He hopes she isn’t in pain— he’s not sure, but he could’ve sworn that earlier this morning he saw a dark spot at her left hip the size of his fingerprints— and hopes that he’d been gentle enough so that whatever pain she suffers now doesn’t continue for the rest of the day.

He’s a mixture of guilt from hurting her that way— and proud to know that there’s a mark he left behind underneath all those layers of clothes.

She hasn’t put on a jacket of some kind to hide the long chest panel of her shift— or the top of her stays— she’s probably lost the pin again that closes the jacket, and is on the hunt for it. As such, parts of her pale decolletage is completely visible under her hair as she continues to brush through the long strands with her fingers. She goes through the motion of quickly lacing her hair back into a loose side braid— tying her hair off at the waist with a pretty ribbon— and gets to work, getting close enough to Luka to lean over to him to look at his face with care.

“Good morning, pearlescent little witch— don’t you look glowing this morning?”

Chat kicks at the coil closest to him. Luka barely blinks at the pain as he continues to smile at Marinette.

Her face brightens enough to mimic the sun as she continues to look him over. “How’s your nose, Luka? Not injured, is it?”

“I’m fine!” Luka waves her off with a smile. “It takes a lot more than a sack of cotton to break a bone in my body. I’d be in trouble if it was that easy— there are far more chances to break one of my bones than there is to break a human’s.”

Marinette isn’t paying attention. She’s busy studying Luka’s nose— Chat can tell just by her body language alone.

She nods regardless of not paying attention, reaching for the naga’s face to check for any signs of damage as if she doesn’t believe him. Luka stills in her hands— barely breathing, as if he’s afraid it’ll startle her. Chat Noir can whine and moan about Luka, but he knows for certain that the naga takes gentle care in not hurting or scaring the little witch. He has never laid a finger on her— Marinette has no idea just how strong he is. “I guess you’re alright. No bleeding, yes? No loss of sight?”

“The only lost I get is when I’m looking in your eyes.”

Marinette’s laughter twinkles in the air.

Chat perks up from his teacup, an idea brewing in his head. “Actually, Princess, I think he potentially is in need of salve.”

“Oh, does he?” She bites her lip, turning back to him. “We have a bit more, I just wonder where I put the bottle—”

“No, ‘he’ does not,” Luka’s eyes flicker gold when they make eye contact. There’s a coil around his ankle, now— and a gentle pull as a humorous warning. “Your familiar is lying to you, little pearl.”

She laughs into a full smile of her own, completely unaware that Chat is trying to shift his legs out of the slow, constrictive nature of the naga’s tail. He’s not sure he can feel his ankle anymore. “My familiar has told me that he doesn’t make it into a habit of lying to me— in fact, he’s promised me two nights ago not to lie anymore.”

“How sweet of him to promise you such an important thing— if only your familiar was as dulcet with me as he is with you— although I don’t mind the aggression. It’s always funner that way, isn’t it, kitty-cat?” Luka sighs, settling deep into his coils as Marinette turns to sit on the other side of the table. Chat has a foot ready for another kick in case Luka makes the comment that he knows is at the tip of his forked tongue— he can tell by the way Luka’s eyes continue to glitter. “Such a passionate man he is, Marinette. Always do love rolling on the ground with him, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Thinking that someone is in need of treatment is hardly a lie,” He’s grateful that Luka’s silent when Chat kicks him again— barely even flinching into his cup as he sips from it. Chat’s eyes follow the way his witch sits down in her chair, spying for any sign of physical discomfort. “Though if you’re truly that desperate for an injury, I’ll be happy to help.”

“No, no—” Marinette sighs as she pours her own cup. “Please, a truce between you two for at minimum the remainder of this morning.”

“The morning has already passed, my pearl.” Luka interrupts her wishes for bread.

“What time is it?” Her brows furrow, eyes widening in alarm.

“It’s afternoon by now. Were you planning on something this morning?” Luka’s completely neutral as he leans into his elbow again— but Chat can see the gold starting to surface in his eyes. “What in the world kept you two up so late?”

Bait. Bait. There’s no point in kicking at him— Marinette must know at this point what he’s talking about. What in the world is their excuse? Does Marinette mind telling people that they’re together now? Is she okay with telling people that they were caught in bed?

“Chat Noir got into a bit of a fight with an animal in the forest two days ago,” Marinette doesn’t even blink as she mixes something into her cup. He’s not sure when she managed to drop a few more leaves into her cup— but they’re there now, and turn the liquid a dark red. “Came home with a nasty bite. Cried the entire time I stitched him back up— it took us forever. I’ve had to keep cleaning it every couple of hours because he keeps opening the stitches back up. I’m exhausted— he’s kept me up all night.”

Chat has the urge to stick his tongue out in Luka’s direction when they make eye contact, but squashes it down immediately when there’s a coil ensnaring his foot again. He can tell that the naga is impressed by her complete and total loyalty to Chat Noir in order to lie— there’s gold still flickering in Luka’s eyes as a slow smile creeps along his face, turning completely towards her. “Is that so?”

“He’s a squirmer,” She smiles as she takes a sip. Her tea smells bitter— he doesn’t envy the face she pulls in the slightest— placing her teacup down onto the table with a poorly concealed flinch. “And terrified of needles.”

“I’m not afraid of needles,” Chat rolls his eyes.

“Well, between your phobia of anything medical, and all of the kissing we did last night, it’s a miracle I was able to get any sutures into your skin.” Ah. There’s the coy and confident Marinette he sees glimpses of. Chat tries not to narrow his eyes at her as she makes eye contact with him— a playful glint in her eyes.

“He did say he was rather occupied with something,” Luka lifts a clawed finger up to his chin as if he’s thinking— but breaks into a grin when Chat’s back of his paw makes contact with the fleshy underside of his tail. There’s not nearly as much protection on the undercarriage as there is on the top side— he can see it in the way Luka’s eyes squint with a flinch. “I’m sorry to cut your breakfast short, little pearl, but I’m going to be borrowing your familiar for the remainder of the afternoon. That’s doable, right?”

She makes a noise of surprise. “What for?”

“We promised the village we’d bring fish for the celebrations tonight,” Chat rubs at his eyes again.

“You’re in no condition to fish with that arm,” She muses. “You can’t have both. Either you two behave and actually fish, or finish playing footsies with one another outside— but I’m not washing your clothes if they get dirty. You’re both on your own for that one.”

“Always so considerate of us, pearlescent witch—” Luka struggles not to grin when Chat pulls at his arm to start getting away from the table. “Alya should be here any moment now to collect you. You have your own duties for the festival, you know— and I will hope you don’t skimp out on those flowers you promised.”

“Come back soon, the both of you?” She waves him off with a smile, pressing a kiss to Chat’s cheek when he comes close enough. “Behave. Don’t get any more injured, kitty-cat.”

He’ll try.

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #411

“everybody’s got loaded stories, and i know for a fact everybody sees a bullseye on my back”

Have you ever been to jail? No. Opinion on snow? I absolutely love it! Not big on the slush it leaves behind, though. It gets ugly. What are you best at drawing? Meerkats. Are you scared of going over bridges? Nah. If you had endless energy and stamina, how would you spend your days? Plenty of exercise, lots of exploration with my camera, doing chores much more regularly... stuff like that. What mental or physical space do you go when you want to recharge or relax? I go to my room and watch YouTube. Did you have/use a comfort object as a child (do you continue to have one)? I actually don't remember. Now as an adult, if I go somewhere, my purse is actually like my comfort item in that I like to sit and sort of hug it to feel more secure. When was the last time you said something you regret? What did you say? I'm unsure. What do you tend to get carried away with? New hobbies/interests. It will be like all I care about for a long while, ha ha. Do you believe we have souls; do you believe in a life after death? Yes to both. Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? No. Have you ever seen your best friend cry? Ugh, yes, and it's the absolute worst. What kind of vitamins did you take as a kid? We had those Flintstones ones for a while, but for most of my childhood, we had gummy vitamins. Have you ever gone to court? Well, yes, but not for like your ordinary court hearing. While hospitalized on one occasion, a lawyer visited to speak to the patients informing us that we could argue against our discharge dates if we believed we were going to be committed for too long, which I thought I was, so I signed up to bring my case in front of a judge. So yeah, I've been to court, but not for ordinary reasons. Are you friends with your neighbors? "Friends," no. The people to our left like just moved out, and I don't even know if we've ever been outside at the same time as the family on our right. Favorite color? I like baby pink. How long has it been since you’ve seen The Lion King? I saw the CGI remake when it came out, if that counts? I don't know about the original. When did you last hold hands with someone? Sometime when I was at my sister's house, my niece grabbed my hand to drag me somewhere, ha ha. Have you ever had a crush on your sibling's friend? No. Have you ever gone to a beach? Multiple times. How good is your eyesight? It is very, VERY bad. I need new glasses severely. What’s the best wedding you’ve been to? My former dance teacher's. Have you ever had a negative encounter with the police? What happened? No. What’s your favourite thing to cook/bake? Do you eat it often? I don't do either. How do you flush the toilet in public? I generally use my elbow. I don't like standing on one leg, so I don't really use my foot like I'd prefer. Favorite horror movie? Silent Hill is dearest to me overall just because of what it is, but as a horror film, I think the original Blair Witch Project is best. Do you have your wisdom teeth? X-rays have only ever shown two are present, but I have enough space for those. What would you name your pet snake if you had one? It would depend on their appearance. The snake I have currently is named Venus because her coloration is similar to the planet. Do you like peanuts? Only when covered in chocolate. Where do you typically shop for bras and underwear? Do you tend to keep it simple, or have a variety of different items? Have you ever gotten a professional bra fitting? I don't get new undergarments (or clothes in general) frequently, but historically, my bras are bought online and underwear just from Wal-Mart. I don't really get the second question? I mean I don't have a style when it comes to those types of clothes, if that's what you mean. I've never had an actual bra-fitting, but I absolutely need to but keep putting it off. It seems like NO bra fits me properly all-around, and it's ridiculously annoying. What (if any) types of xrays/scans/other diagnostic tests have you had done? Was anything found? Idk man, a lot. I've had xrays on my wrist (found a fracture), teeth, legs... maybe more? I've also had an ultrasound on my liver for reasons I don't recall. I either had an MRI or CT scan (I can't remember which) when I got a concussion, and uhhhh... I can't think of anything else. Were you breast or bottle fed as a child? If you plan to have children, which do you think you’ll choose? Do you think one is really better than the other? I was nursed, and if I hypothetically had children, I'd definitely try to do the same. It was so incredible to me that I've never forgotten this: when I was at the hospital while my sister had her first baby, there was a chart on the wall of how many more nutrients were in breast milk versus formula milk, and the list was GARGANTUAN. Like, unbelievable. Now, do I think it's BETTER? That's a complicated question for which, in short, my answer is no. More nutritious, well, given what I just said, obviously. But breastfeeding just doesn't work for all mothers for a plethora of reasons, like the time demand, they can be self-conscious, it's painful... and all those things are okay. A mother should do what works best for her. Neither one is "wrong" or makes someone less of a mother because they feed their child less traditionally. Do you find that you have become more selective in terms of friendships as you’ve gotten older? Did the friendships you thought would last over time end up that way? Absolutely. There are just some kinds of people I absolutely do not tolerate anymore. And no, not most. We just drifted apart with time, or given most of my closest friendships are/were online, they just fell off the face of the earth. What are you doing right now? This and re-watching John Wolfe play Bloodborne. Bloodborne is such a comfort series to me... somehow, ha ha. Yet another game I've never played but desperately want to. Where are you? In my bedroom, as always. When you get yelled at, do you yell back or let it go? Depending on who it is, I might yell back, but most likely cry, ha ha. I hate being yelled at, like a lot. Is the person you last texted single? That would be my mom, so yeah. I've hoped she'd find a partner forever... She, probably more than anyone I know, deserves love from the *right* guy. I worry a lot how lonely she may become whenever I move out. Are you easily scared by horror movies? Not at all. Are you friends with any of your ex boyfriend/girlfriends? Girt and Sara, yes. Are you lonely? Be honest. Very. What has made you happy today? It's too early for this. What has made you sad today? Nothing, really. Last thing eaten? I had leftover pancakes from yesterday. Are you wearing anything that’s not yours? No. Do you like to wear makeup? I mean it makes me feel prettier, sure, but the actual time investment doesn't feel worth it for me personally. Especially when you're not even that good with applying it. Have you ever attempted to write a story or novel? Many times when I was younger. Would you rather have perfect hair or perfect skin? Perfect skin. I hate my skin, it has so many blemishes. What’s your middle name? Marie. How big is your bed? Queen. Do you drink? Only a bit for special occasions, really. I'll have a daiquiri on your average day every once and a blue moon. Would you fall apart if that last person you kissed walked out of your life? That's an understatement. Do you prefer pasta, salad, or coleslaw? Pasta. I hate coleslaw. Do you find smoking unattractive? Yes. Where’s the last place you went besides your house? The TMS office. Do you eat breakfast daily? Yes. Who were you with the last time you went to the movie theater? My dad. Do you like your cell phone? No, but it gets the job done. I just wish I had a phone with a good camera. Has anyone ever sang to you? Yes. So, what if you married the last person you kissed? That's the dream, but I acknowledge and accept it just might not work out like that. Do you usually answer your texts? Almost always. Have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle? Yes. Who has seen you cry the most? My mom, for sure. Have you ever just laid down outside and stared at the stars? Yeah, Jason and I did that one night on the trampoline. Have your friends ever randomly stopped by your house? In the past, yes. Think to the last person you kissed; have you ever kissed them on the ground? No. Do you have a condom in your room? No, got no use for one. Do your siblings ever pay for stuff for you? Yes. What brand is your digital camera? Canon. Do you own expensive perfume/cologne? No; I really don't get the point. When was the last time you went tanning? Ew, never. I find NO appeal in just lying in the boiling sun. Do you like the smell of fresh cut grass? No, I hate it. Do you get embarrassed easily? Like you would not fucking believe. It's one of the things I hate most about myself, because I'm embarrassed about everything I like and what makes me me. Has anyone ever thrown you a surprise party? No. Do you always wear your seatbelt? Absolutely. You couldn't pay me not to. Do you sing in the shower? No. Have you ever been called a slut/whore/something along those lines? Only playfully among friends. Have you ever stood up for someone you hardly/didn't even know? Yes. Have you ever fallen in love with a really good friend of yours? Yes. Do you own a blacklight? No. Do you like fruit better than vegetables? Definitely. Have your friends met the last person you kissed? Of my current friends, only Girt has. If you’re straight, have you ever thought about kissing the same sex? If you’re gay, have you ever thought about kissing the opposite sex? I'm bisexual, soooo. What does your laugh sound like? Do you have a loud laugh or a quiet laugh? Bro my laugh is so fucking loud and obnoxious. Is there a reality TV show you would consider taking part in? No.

[sarahwroteathing]

English 284 (1)

Word Count: 1495

Summary: Your proposal to teach a new class combining art and literature is accepted... under one little condition. (College AU)

Warnings: Language

A/N: We’re doing impulsive writing again because it worked well the last two times. Oof. Here we go again, folks. Image is of a painting mentioned in the chapter: “Ophelia” by Sir John Everett Millais. (Source)

Steve’s Perspective .

“Fellas, it’s happening!” you said, shoving the door of the lab open with your hip, laptop balanced precariously in your arms.

“Seriously? I changed the code yesterday! How did you get in here again?” Tony complained, letting his head fall forward onto the table with a dull thunk while Bruce scoffed.

“You changed it to my birthday, smartypants. Besides, my ID is still authorized on the card reader. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoy my company.” 

You pulled a spare chair over to the table where Tony and Bruce were working, planting your own laptop primly on a stack of battered notebooks. Bruce’s probably. Tony abandoned paper ages ago. 

Despite the token protest, Tony was actually your closest friend at work, a pairing that completely baffled your colleagues. The specific brands of eccentricity displayed by English professors and Engineering professors didn’t tend to mix well. But the Dean of Studies, Pepper Potts, had recommended befriending Tony on your first day, and his quick humor and ostentatious confidence had effectively drowned out the imposter syndrome that plagued you during your first semester teaching. You’d met Bruce Banner only a few days later, and sharing lunches in Tony’s lab in the basement of the Engineering building had solidified into sacred tradition by the end of your second week. 

“Did you hear back about the new course proposal?” Bruce asked.

“Yes! I got the email notification on my way over here, but I haven’t opened it yet. Tony, tell me your wife isn’t going to break my heart.”

“We don’t talk about work at home. But I read your proposal, and it sounded… Well, I wouldn’t take that class, but it sounded like something Pepper would be into.”

You squirmed anxiously in your seat, logging into your email with a deep breath. You’d worked on this course proposal for the better part of a month, editing and re-editing the syllabus at least a dozen times. You had titled the course “The Painted Word.” A full semester class studying famous myths, plays, poems, and novels and the works of art they inspired. 

The idea formed when a picture of Sir John Everett Millais’s “Ophelia” i had sparked a lively debate among the students in your Shakespeare seminar. You’d spent the next week researching artistic representation of iconic characters and stories, and when you’d given a few of your classes the soft pitch of the course, you’d acquired more than enough signatures on the interest form to issue a formal request with the Dean of Studies. Being met with such enthusiasm had lulled you into a sense of security and excitement. In your mind, the course was already set in stone. Which is exactly why the email on your screen landed like a gut punch. 

“She said no?” you asked faintly, your eyes scanning and rescanning the first sentence. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm and the care and attention you put into your work, I do not feel that I can approve the course as you’ve submitted it.” 

You blinked owlishly but made no move to intervene when Tony snatched your laptop from its place in front of you. Bruce rolled his chair to read over Tony’s shoulder, and they wore twin expressions of puzzled displeasure which would have made you laugh if not for the current state of your professional goals. 

“She didn’t say no! It’s conditional approval,” Tony corrected, his expression clearing as he reached to roll your chair closer to him. “Look.”

I’m intrigued by the course description you’ve laid out here, and it certainly has no equivalent in our current course catalogue. I think we would be remiss to limit the course to the English Department and encourage you to consider an interdisciplinary approach with the Art Department. If you’re willing to collaborate with one of their professors so that students can benefit from the expertise of both relevant disciplines and gain credit with either department, I’d be happy to approve the course for the spring semester. I’d recommend getting in touch with Steven G. Rogers. He has taught a number of interdisciplinary courses during his time here, and I believe he would be a helpful resource for you. 

“She doesn’t think I can handle this on my own?” you asked, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “I have a Ph. D, dammit! I don’t need a babysitter.” 

“I’m sure that’s not what she meant,” Bruce said, reaching around Tony to squeeze your shoulder. “She just wants to open up the class a little more. You know the college has been pushing for more interdisciplinary classes.”

“Who the hell is Steven G. Rogers, and why does she think the sun shines out of his ass,” you muttered grumpily, determined to hold onto your bitterness just a little longer. 

“The sun couldn’t possibly shine out of his ass with the stick he keeps up there,” Tony said mildly, shocking a laugh out of you.

“Oh, God, tell me I won’t be stuck teaching with a stuffy old grump for a whole semester.”

“I’ve never had someone ask me to lie to them before. This is a weird feeling. Takes the fun out of it, almost.”

“He’s not that bad,” Bruce protested. 

“How do you both know this guy? I’ve never heard of him before in my life. This is - ” 

You broke off with a sigh, reclaiming your laptop and searching the faculty directory. 

“Why does this stupid website never have any pictures,” you complained, scrolling through his profile. 

“Be grateful. It would only make it worse for you,” Tony said with a smirk before smacking your hand away from the keyboard. “Wait, wait, wait! Does that say ‘Gentle Yoga?’ What the hell does that mean?”

“Yoga but in a sweater? On a pile of pillows and he braids your hair after?”

Tony snorted and started to respond, but you clapped your hand over his mouth immediately.

“Shut up. I heard it as soon as I said it. Don’t make it worse.” 

“It’s just low impact yoga. Lighter stretches. For people who don’t feel comfortable or able to do standard level yoga. We usually get a few students with sports injuries or disabilities.”

You and Tony both turned to look at Bruce, staring in silent shock for a few moments before speaking.

“...Did you say we? Why did you say we?”

“Bruce, do you have something you’d like to tell me?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, pushing up from his seat and crossing to his bag on the other side of the room, very pointedly ignoring you and Tony who were frantically scooting after him in your rolly chairs. 

“Bruce!” 

He had pulled out his phone and was typing something, but he pivoted to block your view when you tried to peek.

“I’m texting Steve to see if he has any open spaces in his teaching schedule next semester. You’re welcome.” 

“Why do you have his number?”

“Because we take turns teaching gentle yoga, which I’m pretty sure you’ve already figured out at this point, so drop it. And Tony has his number too by the way.”

“What?”

“Judas.”

“I thought you said he had a stick up his ass?”

“Well, the stick is sometimes useful, okay? And he’s not the worst person I’ve met. After a few whiskeys, he even approaches fun.” 

You let out an incredulous laugh, abandoning your chair to pace the length of the lab. 

“So you’re saying I should give this guy a shot?” you asked, massaging your temples against the stress headache that was starting to creep in. 

Bruce’s phone chimed quietly.

“He says he has an open space. Should I put in a good word for you?”

You wandered back towards your laptop, looking wistfully over your syllabus. 

“What are the chances this class will still be recognizable after his input?” you asked mournfully.

“You can change your mind and say no if you disagree with him. Find someone else,” Bruce said with a shrug. 

“And he’ll pull his weight?”

“He’ll pull all the weight unless you strongarm him out of it,” Tony said with a laugh. “Look, Pep knows what she’s doing. If she thinks you two would work well together, she’s probably right. Her last recommendation turned out alright, didn’t it?”

“You keep trying to lock me out of your lab,” you pointed out half-heartedly, but you gave a nod to Bruce who immediately started typing. 

“Yeah, well. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“He said to send him the syllabus and let him know when you can meet to talk about it,” Bruce cut in, tucking his phone back into his bag. 

You let out a deep sigh, nerves already fluttering to life in your stomach at the thought of having to pitch this class to a colleague again. 

“What are the chances this turns into a huge disaster?” 

“I’d say about 50/50. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.”

“Tony!”

“What? She asked!”

---------------------------------------------

Alright guys, what do we think? Are you into it? Excited? How do you think the meeting will go? Do you wanna read more? Let me know! Asks, reblogs, and replies make the world go ‘round!

Part 2

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Tags: @aubzylynn @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd-blog @kennadance14 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest  @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @jacks-on-krack @a-book-pressed-rose @fvckjamesbarnes @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @breezy1415 @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us​ @majesticavenger​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @patzammit​ @pato-el-cerdito​

[cloudyjisung]

also i think a good thing to keep in mind is, what if your friends also feel the same way you do, what if they too also want to feel wanted and are waiting for you to reach out,, its a sucky situation lmao i hate it

pt. 1 of message

hello anon! I’ve been thinking about your ask all day and wanted to reply to it thoughtfully! :~) 

Ngl, I felt a bit comforted getting this ask because now I know that I’m not the only one who feels this way and it validates my own experience. but at the same time, it’s sad because it’s a sad lonely feeling :~(

I feel like maybe it’s just part of growing up, watching people come and go. Especially with students like me in university, moving to different cities, being occupied with other stuff, gradually growing apart due to the lack of proximity with high school friends. Meeting new college friends, having fun in class and occasionally going out for coffee breaks, only for the semester/quarter to come to an end and so does the friendship....

I used to be very introverted and shy, too afraid to ask for what I want, just waiting for things to happen. But as I grow older, I realize that I’m not gonna be spoon-fed opportunities to get what I want or expect people to magically understand me without me explicitly saying it; I’ll have to actually speak up. Like, if you want it, you have to ask for it. In the same way, if you want someone to stay in your life, you have to let it be known.

I’ve def gotten better at reaching out to people now, esp those that i love and care about. I’ve gotten better and letting people know that I value them and enjoy their presence. Rather than thinking “oh, xxx hasn’t reached out to me in a long time..do they even care or think about me?” and wondering if I would ever see them again, I make things happen by taking the initiative to reach out.

In the beginning, it hurt my ego a teensy bit that I had to be the person reaching out to my friends and asking them if they want to hang out with me. There’s also sort of a vulnerability in asking for company. Add onto that, there’s the fear of being rejected or ghosted.... But I rationalize and tell myself that doing this would be worth it if meant that I could spend quality time with people I like. And when I do get connect with them and bathe in their presence, all the good feelings from that connection outweigh the initial negative associations I had with reaching out and fears of rejection.

But I’ll admit that sometimes it feels tiring...especially if one person has done most of the job ‘reaching out’. Because when that happens, it feels like the person you’re reaching out to has ‘better things to do’ and doesn’t have the time or care to reciprocate the same gesture back. and I know that may not be the actual reality and that it’s just thoughts inside my head, but gosh it sure feels that way for me sometimes. And that’s when I’m the most heartbroken.

I think I’ve always struggled with wondering if the feelings I have for people are mutual. Like, do others value me as much as I value them? Do I consider them too highly? Am I putting too much effort into this relationship? Am I being excessive? I think about the notion that every relationship should feel like an equal contribution (not something that needs to be measured out precisely, but the feeling) and I always wonder, have most my friendships been onesided? Do people not like me as much as I like them?

This may be TMI but my current best friend/closest friend has a ‘best friend’ that’s not me. But it’s not even something to be petty about. My friend was childhood friends with her bff and they’ve known each other for the longest time. I have no doubts about the strength of their bond and I’m not trying to claim the ‘bff’ position or anything. I know my place and know that my friend loves me very much, but the fact that my closest friend doesn’t see me as her closest friend can’t help but make me feel...like a less desirable option.

Back to your point about the friend possibly also feeling the same way, wanting to feel wanted and waiting to be reached out....yes...I can totally see that happening and it’s such a tragedy :~( I guess that just really points out how open, honest communication is needed in every relationship including friendships. And how misunderstanding can cause friendships to falter even if both parties didn’t intend to do so, simply due to lack of communication.

It feels good to be reminded that you’re wanted. But rather than silently wait for those reminders to occur, maybe remind someone you love that they’re wanted, and perhaps your own signs and reminders of feeling wanted by others will come naturally to you...

I’m sorry anon if you didn’t expect or want this long ass reply....but I wanna thank you for this ask because this has been a subject that has been plaguing my mind for a while now and something that I wanted to type out and release as an outlet. Again, these are just my thoughts and experiences and I’m not pushing anyone to think a certain way. Every situation is different and please do what you see best fits for you! Thank you again, and thank you for reading this far; I hope that you have a very pleasant day/night ahead of you!    ♡ ♡ ♡  

[hykwkagas]

Review:

Shinonome Ayumu - Her Love in the Force

MS2 - Falling in love + Epilogue

Ratings-

Plot: 4/5

Romance: 4/5

MC: 5/5

Total: 13/15

I went into his MS2 expecting greater things, which thankfully it did, but his Epilogue was a little underwhelming to be quite honest. It was what I expected of a Shinonome route but it still let me down a little having finished it.

Plot: 4/5

We get a continuation from his MS1, where we delve deeper into the connection Sachi’s husband, Sekizaka, has with the politician who apparently has affairs. The plot for Shinonome’s MS2 gets much darker, with the mistresses said to be involved in a terrorism plot. There are also more things that the MC is involved in, and having Chiba, one of her closest friends be involved with her too was neat. I liked that both Naruko and Chiba were more involved in the things MC does as friends than they were in other routes. The writing doesn’t feel too choppy, minus a few incomplete sentences here and there, having both MC’s and Shinonome’s connections be more expanded upon along with the main plot. For the Epilogue, I did liked how they tied in Sachi’s wedding with Sekizaka, as a form of closure for Shinonome, but I’ll elaborate more on that in the romance section since I have quite a few things to say about that. Continuing off in the MS2, I like the whole involvement of Soma, Goto and particularly Kaga who is Shinonome’s direct supervisor. It wasn’t just a random side support for the MC or to chastise her type of situation, but the fact that it involved the main plot to counter terrorism was well done. I especially liked MC’s interactions with Kaga in Shinonome’s route, though I do think he’s still a meanie wherever route he goes lol.

Romance: 4/5

I think it’s very obvious at the start of his MS2 that Shinonome already caught on to MC’s feelings for him, although liking it to a crush rather than love. He comforts her when his jokes got a little too far, surprised that it was actually far deeper than what he thought it was. I think when MC cried in his arms that day, he probably had the time to self reflect on who MC was to him and if he was going to pursue her as a love interest, though there is a part of me that wants to believe that he had already made that decision from the start, only choosing to go after it abit harder after her show of emotions. Naruko brought up some good points in her lines when she likens a similar relationship to what the MC and Shinonome has to a friendship, and it did felt very friendship like. Shinonome had to come to terms with himself that Sachi, his love, was already a married woman and that MC was also creeping up on him as a potential love interest. Since we’re on the topic of Sachi, I didn’t liked how her after wedding in the epilogue just turned into a cute little tidbit story considering the others epilogues had been spicier. It was also kind of frustrating having to wait on Shinonome saying that he loved MC, and I do get that was the main point driven for the epilogue, but just felt that it could be done better considering his personality. Having read the previews for his sequels, I assume the writers will make Shinonome’s and MC’s romance into this slow burn trope, so I’ve kept that in mind as well when writing this review. There were fortunately many great lines Shinonome had as well in regards to him liking both Sachi and MC differently, which I thought was pretty neat. He likened Sachi not as a married woman he was in love with, but rather a woman he loved that got married in MS1. It was bittersweet for sure. While he appears more smooth in his way of talking about Sachi, and appears more rough towards MC, I do like his approach to MC better as it felt clumsier, something that I think only MC knows about him. Kaga apparently knows this too, however, as he called either Shinonome or the MC a child, over a jealous display when Kaga had called her over.

MC: 5/5

Let me tell you the patience Shinonome’s MC has is amazing. I would probably complained from being his gofer and having to take up his mean jokes, but the power of love trudges on. I gave his MC a full 5 points because she’s very honest with her feelings. It takes guts to admit to a person you love that you know loves someone else, that you loved him and that you also accept that it could be unrequited. While it appears that she does everything Shinonome asks her to without a doubt, the scene with Soma, Kaga and essentially Namba asking her to spy on Shinonome made me like her more. It must be tough to snoop on someone you liked and respected, but she chose to set those feelings aside, albeit momentarily, as she had to do her job as a Public Safety student. She did it in an empathetic way too, which was really nice to see. One of my favourite scenes of her was when she worked with Goto during their undercover, and having been stuck with him after getting caught. It showed how far she got in the Public Safety world that Goto - along with the higher ups instructions - would also bring her along to a real undercover mission and I do think it speaks volumes that it’s a two person mission. Granted, she’s already an officer, but they already knew she wasn’t used to the city work and that she still could do far better from where she was currently at. Her tenacity in both her private and public life is admirable, and she had to be with a love interest like Shinonome. She’s a very cute MC, who I do feel gives off a puppy vibe, and I find myself laughing and crying along with her during scenes. With how complicated Shinonome’s life and personality is, I appreciated her good hearted nature.

[omgmarieux]

A Serious Relationship (Part 1)

Paring: Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings: soft ben™ and it’s pretty much for the general.

Word Count: 1786 words

Summary: Ben is looking forward for a date with you, and is shy.

Note: This is the result of my midnight reveries and I couldn’t help myself but to write and make up a soft side of Ben Barnes. Make sure to judge it through comments or annon asks because it’s what motivates me to write more. Tell me what’s good and what needs improvement.

Remember, this is purely fictional.

Enjoy reading, and if you do, tell me if you want me to tag you in future updates.

Benjamin dates for a serious relationship, not for a fling, casual sex or one night stand. He does take his time knowing and learning the women he meets whether the time he will invest in her will be worth it. He’s a serious kind of guy when it comes to relationships and doesn’t like fooling around like a young man, anymore. After all, he was in his mid thirties. 

To him, dating isn’t hard. Women basically throw themselves at him despite his growing age. Finding the perfect woman is what is actually hard in his situation. Well, he isn’t really looking for the ‘perfect’ woman, as in flawless. That might never happen. He was just searching for the right woman who is perfect for him, a kind of woman who’s not just into his looks, fame and money.

Ben’s mind lingered around the phone call he had last night, trying to remember how well it went and thinking if this is the one he’s looking for. He brushed the thought off but he couldn’t suppress the smile plastered in his face. He just couldn’t wait for Saturday to find out. 

His friends sat down in front of him, greeting him and allowing some time to catch up for the meanwhile as he just got back to Los Angeles a week from now, but his lingering bright and wide smile is not left unnoticed by the party. 

“So what’s with your smile Barnes? It is very unsettling not to know what you hide behind those excited face of yours.” Candela said to him and he just laughed at her remark. 

“Well as far as I know Ben, love, it’s either he got a role or got a girl.” Cody guessed as his arm went behind Candela’s chair. Ben shook his head in disbelief at this couple’s observation. These two were his closest friends in LA, and he didn’t mind at all being a third wheel for these two. 

“So which is it, Barnes?” Candela proceeded to push Ben and he took a swig of his beer, putting the bottle down before speaking. 

“A girl.” He said and clasped his hands together, setting them on the table. “Trying my luck, you know. Date tomorrow. ” He added. 

“Well we hope it’ll be smooth. Do you know her well?” As a girl’s nature to be curious, Candela went on to interview Ben about this woman.

“Hmm. No not really, but she was nice and all.” Ben replied, the twinkle in his eyes earlier was lost and was replaced with a worrying look. “What do you guys think?” He asked, hoping for reassurance of his actions. It is not that he’s dependent on others but lately, the dates he’d been at weren’t going too well. 

“As long as she doesn’t drool the first second she sees you, I think it’s okay.” Cody commented and Candela hit him with her elbow.

“You didn’t have to make him remember that.”

Ben laughed at his friends while shaking his head. “No Candela, it’s alright.” He said as his mind reminisced at the last date he’d been on. The girl was stammering the entire date, her eyes were practically undressing him and it’s unbelievably funny that it’s not the reason why he was so turned off. She ordered quite a sad dinner like she was starving herself and then momentarily glancing at his. He wanted to tell her that she could have ordered a dinner to her liking, he wouldn’t care if she eats the entire menu there but he didn’t want to be rude.

“You’ve got to tell us about her more.” Said Candela, not showing a hint of dropping the topic about Ben’s awaited date on Saturday.

“She’s a nutritionist, consulted her once already. We agreed to meet every three months for my diet plan, my doctor recommended her to me and I actually thought having a nutritionist is beneficial for my health.”

“Dear god, old man.” Candela said, shaking her head laughing. “I mean, god, you’re too conscious for your health lately as if you’re in your sixties.” She added trying to control her laughter.

“Maybe you should hire yourself a nutritionist.” Her boyfriend mumbled and she gaped at him.

“You think I’m fat?” She asked, eyes flaring. 

“No, I think you’re eating too much unhealthy food.” Cody said and Ben laughed at the two.

“Yeah hire her so I could see her more often.” Ben suggested and Candela rolled her eyes at him. 

“And you agree to this man? I feel so ganged up.” She said as she dramatically sighed at her boyfriend and him.

Ben knew better and he couldn’t lie any longer at himself. No, he didn’t need a nutritionist. He was eating fine and healthy enough for all he knew. It just happened that he saw you at one of his doctor’s frames during his annual check up and asked who you were and that’s when you were introduced to him. He took a business card from his doctor, learning that she was your mother and that you had recently taken a job at the current hospital he was in.

During his first consultation with you one afternoon, you were confused. He looked like he didn’t need a nutritionist. You asked him a few questions about the food he eats and etc, all those basic questions to learn his lifestyle and you did give him nutritional advice. You told him that a two consultation a year would be enough for him but he insisted to meet you every three months. You thought of it as a waste of money, but he was Ben Barnes. You were completely aware of his identity. Maybe he needs this for his career or something, you really can’t turn down a job. For Ben, his hundred dollars was worth it. 

Wednesday, a few days after that meeting, he already had your work number saved in his phone and he dialed it unconsciously. When you answered, that’s when it dawned to him that he might have disturbed you from your work. 

“Hi, Mr. Barnes. Anything I can help you with?” You greet him with a clear voice he liked hearing so much.

“Oh... I...” he stammered and he heard you chuckling on the other line. “Well I called to ask you if you’re free for Saturday night?” He finally said and was actually scared that you’d turn him down but that was short-lived as you replied. 

“Hold on, I’ll check my schedule.”

He heard you flipping through papers on what he deemed as a planner for a few moments.

“I have a patient until 8 pm though.” You said. Ben didn’t know you were nipping at your lip as you try to comprehend why he is asking. You didn’t want to assume. 

“Hmm.” He hummed as if thinking if it’s better to proceed to directly tell you his offer. “That’s like dinner time.”

You laughed more and was shaking your head involuntarily. If he wants a date, he could just ask. You thought. “Yes Ben, that’s dinner time.”

You didn’t hear a reply from him and got worried. “So... what do you want on Saturday night at dinner time Mr. Barnes?” You asked. You can hear Ben nervously huffing out a breath.

“I wanted to take you to dinner. I’m sorry, I’m so not good at this.” He said and released a silent chuckle.

“Well I kind of figured it out. You are in fact, asking me to dinner at my work number.”

Ben had his heart rapidly beating inside him, nervously laughing at you as he waited for your answer. “But yes Mr. Barnes, a dinner with you is a great honor. I’ll send you my personal number so you don’t have to reach this one. Send me the address, would you?” You said and right then and there his heart felt like it leaped out of him.

“Yes! Yes why not?” Ben replied, sounding way too surprised and happy which caused you to smile behind the call. 

“So I have to go now Ben. Eat your lunch and don’t starve yourself out of excitement. See you.” You said and dropped the call. 

Ben snapped out of his trance when he felt his phone buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it out, he saw your name on the notification and quickly unlocked his phone to respond. You and him had been sending messages back and forth since that call and you were reciprocating his sweet lines which he was very relieved about.

I’m eating lunch with friends. Actually considering eating the pickles this time instead of picking them out of my burger. 

He typed and hit send. He scrolled up to where the conversation started that day. He messaged you the first thing in the morning, wanting you to wake up with a “good morning, have a nice day!” message and he would imagine that you would smile at it. 

You replied a few minutes before six with “Good Morning too Ben. Hope ‘you’ have a nice day because I’m expecting a tiring one and it won’t be nice at all.” He would smile at that message of yours, shaking his head and wanting to comfort you after a long day at work but he brushed the thought away thinking it’s too early to think about that in this fresh relationship. Actually, there was no relationship yet, but he went along. 

He first searched ‘relaxing food’ before replying to you. “Make sure you eat berries for breakfast and reward yourself with dark chocolates after a long day which bustle.com had told me it helps a person relax during stressing time.(https://www.bustle.com/articles/157580-11-foods-to-eat-when-youre-stressed-that-can-help-you-relax)” Ben said, pasting a link together with the message.

You couldn’t help laughing and smiling at that message. Ben was very thoughtful and you were beginning to like him more. It’s easy to talk to him through messages and they were definitely the ones that helped you go through the exhausting day.

At night when both of you are surely tucked in your own beds, he made sure he sent you a ”good night and see you tomorrow” message before he could drift off to sleep. By the time you replied, he was already deep in his dreams.

Saturday morning, he woke up looking forward for the day and checked his phone. There was an unread message from you last night and upon reading it, suddenly he is looking forward for the day to end.

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you. I can’t make it tomorrow. Mom asked the entire family for a dinner gathering just a few hours ago and I couldn’t refuse. I’m so sorry Ben. Good night, sleep well.”

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of October 30th, 2019

Best of this Week: Tales from the Dark Multiverse - The Death of Superman - Jeff Loveness, Brad Walker, Drew Hennessey, Norm Rapmund, John Kalisz and Clayton Cowles

We all know the story of the Death of Superman.

It was one of the few times that Superman fought a threat that pushed him to his limits, ultimately meeting his “end” before a triumphant return after he had been presumed dead. However, what would have happened had Superman not come back as soon as he did? What if someone wanted revenge for his death and saw his passing as a failure on the part of his friends and allies? What if that person were Lois Lane, fueled by the anger of losing her loving husband, enraged enough to become the change the world needed without its greatest hero?

The book begins with Tempus Fuginaut questioning why the darkness keeps returning, why it seems to keep attempting to poison the rest of the multiverse and he is at a loss. He breaks when he mentions worlds that are already dark because of tragedy and get darker still. We then cut to Superman’s battle with Doomsday and his eventual death right up to Lois cradling his body. Where the original story sees her crying and appreciating all that the rest of the heroes were doing while the fight was going on, this book sees her turn to them in fury. She asks why none of them were there for him, why none of them helped him fight.

Brad Walker does an excellent job of conveying Lois’ emotions. Here, she is shown to be far more angry, her eyes showing a pain that honestly, I don’t think we’ve ever seen from her character. Her tears are well detailed, dripping down her cheeks with maybe some bit of mascara mixed in for effect. Her brow furrows and she lashes out at Batman in particular once he tries to comfort her.  

What’s most interesting about this take is the idea that those closest to Clark had been shunted to the side in favor of the League who Lois saw as attention seekers with no regard for his real family. In the original story, Lois and the Kents were in the forefront and were absolutely devastated at the funeral. In this story, Lois is barely able to see the proceedings as the crowd blocks her and some members of the League stop for photos (maybe, Hal Jordan stops and waves at someone). Lois is further disgusted as Lex Luthor (with luxurious long, red hair) unveils a golden statue of the Man of Steel and promises to “live up to the hope” of what Superman believed humanity was capable of. Lois feels that Clark would have found it all s disgusting.

Time goes by and the world turns back into the cesspool that it was before Superman even lit the sky up with hope. There are headlines that crime has skyrocketed and Lois can do nothing but look at it all with despair. Lois Lane had always been a giant beacon of hope, even before she met Clark, but something about his death and the way that world handled it just broke her. Her body language at her desk and later, Superman’s grave give off heavy feelings of sadness and depression. She can’t even have a good night's rest without thinking about him and the shoddy state of the world after his passing. Superman gave so much to humanity and they’ve all just pissed it away from her point of view.

She visits Ma Kent and comforts her as the Kents couldn’t even go to their son’s funeral to say their goodbyes. As they embrace, Martha tells Lois that Jonathan fell into a coma after a heart attack and you can feel her brokenness as she laments that “her boys are gone.” It rips at the heart to see, a testament to Brad Walker’s emotional art and Loveness’ amazing script. She stays with Ma Kent for an unstated period of time before making her way to the Fortress of Solitude to deliver Superman’s cape back to his Kryptonian home. 

She puts herself in a fetal position before the statues of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van and suddenly the form of Eradicator appears before her. John Kalisz is given a ton of space to shine as this is one of the most visually dynamic sequence of pages in the book. Eradicator shimmers with a bright and vibrant shade of red accentuated by a white form. Energy surges around him in the form of circular marks, like bubbles as one exhales while swimming underwater. Even without a mouth, his eyes emote for him. Showing his own anger and lament after failing to save Superman in time. 

Lois, with tears in her eyes, offers her body as a vessel for his power as he cannot sustain it in his current form. He is reluctant at first, thinking that her body wouldn’t be able to take it, but upon seeing her resolve and want to finish Superman’s mission, he allows her to take his power. She is then showered in his energy in a bright blast as he dissipates into her. The Fortress of Solitude is destroyed with the red of the explosion contrasted by the blues and whites of the ice. Things simmer down for a moment before another single beam of light shoots out from the ice, revealing Lois in her Super-form. 

Her costume is amazing. Mirroring the bloody logo that made the Death of Superman story feel so visceral, she already feels like a different “hero” altogether, choosing to forego bright colors in favor of a black bodysuit and Superman’s torn cape. She vows to make the world better, to make it a world that deserved Superman. The way that she goes about it very similar to Injustice Superman’s approach, but instead of raising an army, she is the army. She takes down predatory banks, ends wars, feeds the hungry, kills the corrupt and does so without a hint of remorse. She begins to wonder why Clark never used his power in that way. The questions swirl around her mind as she wonders if Clark was truly naive or if he was just afraid of truly Saving humanity for whatever reason.

Many have asked similar questions over the years with the only real answer being that Superman wants humanity to advance on their own with him being a guiding hand, but not a firm one. Lois, only fueled by revenge, doesn’t have the same restraint. Eventually she finds Lex Luthor, knowing that he’s been the cause of all of the world’s troubles since Superman’s death. He doesn’t bat an eye as he admits to his heinous crimes; funding wars and conflicts, struck down climate regulations, created child soldier and even murdering his secretary just because he could. He expects Lois to bring him to justice, claiming that he owns far more judges than she could stop.

In a terrifying moment, she bursts through the glass window separating them and grabs him by the throat. Luthor is unable to speak, unable to stop her at all and the motif of tears continues as she tells him that Superman was Clark Kent. Luthor’s face, abject terror mixed with the loss of breath is both horrifying to see and absolutely gratifying considering his actions. She flies him past Earth’s atmosphere as quickly as she can, burning him to ash and bone in her hands before continuing her mission.

These are my favorite pages in the book. Loveness wrote it in such a way that all of the emotion is able to be carried by with little dialogue and the few words that are spoken were powerful. Walker made sure to draw these pages with an amazing amount of depth to them. Lois’ boiling anger is painted on her face through her tears, her body language indicates that she feels her actions are righteous and the ease that she’s able to keep hold of Luthor as she destroys him shows a level of control over her new powers and it is amazing. Kalisz makes no bones about showing how Lois’ inner darkness has taken over, showing her shrouded in fire and feeling nothing about what she has done.

The training wheels are taken off by this point as Lois has seemingly gone on a tear through the rogues gallery of almost everyone; burning Intergang, Cadmus, Ra’s al Ghul, Ares, Black Adam, Deathstroke and finally the Joker which draws the ire of Batman. He confronts her about what she’s done, leading to them having a fight. Batman does his best, but she tells him how much Clark actually held back against him, even going so far as to say that Clark pitied him and wished that he would stop being Batman. Bruce looks at her with a seething rage, saying that “he doesn’t stop” to which Lois says that she knows. While we don’t see the aftermath of their conflict up close, we do see her heat vision make a huge blast before she flies away.

This stuck out to me because, unlike Injustice that went out of its way to show all of the brutality that Superman inflicted upon the heroes of the world, we can interpret similar actions from how she was able to easily kill Batman alone. We don’t need to see what happened to know that it was heinous and that she likely had cut a swath through the other “glory hounds” as well. As she looks out to the vast emptiness of space, she sees her own truth. Humanity can’t be saved because they don’t want to be. Batman was the pinnacle of that and now that he’s gone, she’s finally realized it. Batman was one of the greatest humans to exist, but he was too wrapped up in his own emotion and damn anyone that tried to stop him.

What would a Death of Superman retelling be without the “pretenders?” Granted, I think this bit of the story took some liberties, but it was still horrific to see. She goes after Cyborg Superman and immediately sees through his ruse. They have a tussle and as it appears that she’s about to lose, Steel and Superboy show up only to be crushed and heat visioned to death. I suppose Superboy’s clone DNA doesn’t make him as invincible as Superman, but I don’t think Cyborg Superman has the power to control metal at will to crush Steel either. Lois proceeds to fight Cyborg Superman for God knows how long, not caring about property damage or the amount of people killed.

She looks around, seeing all of the damage and suddenly, in a black suit, Clark returns. He apologizes for how long it took and sees that she’s been fighting Cyborg Superman, then he takes a look at the crowd of people and sees that they’re afraid of her and he questioned why. Unfortunately, this leaves him distracted enough for Cyborg Superman to blast the pair with a ray of Kryptonite Energy, killing him and leaving his face frozen with terror at Lois. She kills Cyborg Superman and cradles his body again, this time knowing that she’s the one that kills him.

I loved this book because it was absolutely masterful. Lois Lane is such a great character that rarely gets stories of her own these days, aside from her current ongoing series by Greg Rucka and Mike Perkins. She is always portrayed as a strong character and seeing her succumb to a weakness like rage is refreshing in a dark way. One criticism I could draw is that this story focused very little on her journalism, but in contrast, how often do we get a super powered Lois Lane? 

Brad Walker, Drew Hennessey, Norm Rapmund and John Kalisz absolutely killed it in the art department. It was brutal without blood and the motif of tears and fire was a nice addition. Waller has such a distinctive and sharp style that is accentuated by Hennessey and Rapmund's inks and elevated by Kalisz' colors. This book was high quality and beautiful. 

High recommend!

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 124 Thoughts

Have some faith, Reiner.

As if we’d ever forget Han Solo.

The only nice thing about what’s happening now is that it’s forced the right priorities on people. Despite Eren saying, way back in Trost, that people all uniting to face one enemy is too rosy an idea to have a place in reality, for this one island, in these final, traumatic moments, no one wants all these people to die.

With various faces painted on it, most of our main cast on either side has always been focused on one thing: survival. Now Eren rejects that entire concept for the protection of one group. In the barest of bones, that is what every single villain of this manga has always done. Of course the only option is to reject him.

And of course Gabi, who has always been compared to Eren, who has had the most traumatic series of experiences of her young life, stands up and starts fighting.

(One in shadows, one in light. Winning all the high school book reports here.)

This is the best of Eren, in a child who has been ruined by this world just as thoroughly. Gabi will bring back her friends.

Eren chases after slavers to save a girl he doesn’t know.

Gabi runs into streets full of monsters and saves someone who hates her.

I’ve always enjoyed Eren as a protagonist (his dip into antagonist, not so much). In Trost, he takes on the burden of being a symbol of humanity’s hope, but I’ve always felt that his true symbolic nature is that he’s the one who lays claim to humanity’s outrage.

There are things in this world that are simply wrong. Righteous fury without limits is a satisfying reaction to that, and at the start of the manga, it’s something that all of Paradis has basically lost. They’ve grown complacent with their lot in life. Even when the titans invade, they don’t dream beyond reclaiming the territory that they’ve always known.

Eren’s status as a rage monster is very much a meme, and he’s very much more than that, but it has always been fitting that the main character is a bonfire that lights the sparks of the rest of the cast. Eren inspires motion. Before he has any touch of competence and plot magic, he talks and his comrades find themselves listening.

Gabi takes up that torch here.

Reiner is done (again. sorry, Reiner). The world is probably done. Gabi has spent this whole arc being some kind of done.

Gabi gets up, and goes to look for her friend. Falco follows her onto an airship; she follows him into hell.

Gabi gets up, and protects the girl who wants her dead. She faces down a titan with a weapon not meant for the job, and she wins.

Just like the young woman she murdered.

Sasha joins the Survey Corps after Trost. She comes face to face with a titan, and she falters. She fails to kill it, and it comes after her, and she’s scared. She wants to leave. She considers leaving.

Dot Pixis’ speech reignites her will.

Sasha stays, and a month later she saves her little sister.

Her little sister protects a pair of enemy child soldiers.

One of those child soldiers saves her life.

Paradis begins without a spark. Even the people who are signing up to be soldiers are mostly doing it so they won’t be seen as cowards, or so they can go further into the walls as Military Police. People who want to go outside and kill the titans are nuts. The Survey Corps is nuts. They’re a waste of taxes, and anyone who wants to join them is a suicidal idiot.

Enter Eren. Enter enough fury and impact that the fire can’t be contained in one person, and the sparks start spreading. The people who have been left to tend their own fires for years are given kindling. The people who don’t know what it’s like to not be freezing cold are given a taste of warmth.

For a series that begins in stagnation, a protagonist devoted to movement is going to inspire the most change.

Then he decides to commit genocide and ruin everything, but hey, look at how much that’s inspiring people to get along!

Eren, you’re a fucking disaster.

Niccolo basically hands us the series’ thesis on a silver platter, so I’ll refrain from trying to fit his quotes into anything resembling a paragraph.

Niccolo is not Eldian.

Eldians are the one with the ability to literally transform into monsters. A physical manifestation of the horrors all humans are capable of if you take away their reason. That’s why the world calls them devils. They’re all a bunch of ticking time bombs just waiting to go off; why wouldn’t the world condemn, hate, and fear that?

Those ticking time bombs always take at least one more person willing to start the timer for them.

In the current era, Marley has been the force happily strapping bombs to children’s chests.

Niccolo hits on the truest point. From someone who is not Eldian, who cannot physically manifest the horrors all around them that could not exist without certain genetics--

Niccolo has a devil inside of him, too. He’s given in to it. He has been a monster, so lost in his despair that he’s willing to kill children.

The true enemy of this world is not titans. It’s falling prey to the demons every human carries inside. That is the universal human experience, and everywhere people fall in that fight, evil follows.

Titans exist because a man rapes a slave and has her children eat her.

That evil is a fault of human nature, not blood.

Niccolo and Gabi have been the monsters.

Unlike most titans, they have the option of coming back. They’ve had the fortune to live long enough that they can come back. Hell, it might be because she hits the bargaining phase, but even this chapter Gabi goes from suggesting killing Eren to talking to him and using his power for something actually useful.

-pats Gabi on the head-

Not bad, kiddo.

To the left, we have Jean and Connie.

Hell.

Connie’s simplest (as well as the most exciting, because he’s running off to Wall Rose territory with Falco, who has Ymir’s memories), and rather devastating. For four years, his mother has been a titan. Unable to move. She’s his only remaining family. Everyone else in his village, Connie spent their last night alive praying that they would die. He’s one of the three people left who remember Utgard.

Being trapped on a tower in the middle of the night, being hunted for sport by people he’s known all his life.

On Zeke’s command.

The man Paradis is forced to consider an ally. The man Connie is not allowed to touch. The man who is still, years later, turning people into titans. The man one of his closest friends ostensibly betrays them for.

After all that, his friends have someone who can save his mom, and they try to tell him no. Because that might hurt the feelings of their enemies. People like Reiner, for instance. The guy Connie still cries for in Return to Shiganshina.

Don’t worry about your mother, Connie. Worry about the feelings of everyone else.

Also Sasha is dead and this kid’s bestie pulled the trigger.

But seriously Connie, chill.

[chill not found]

Connie has, frankly, done a fantastic job holding everything together. The fact that he’s only snapping now speaks greatly to his character, and leaves me not too concerned about Falco. Connie ranks as one of the lowest on who’s left of people who would be willing to kill a child. Even if it’s for his mother, if Falco’s awake, I don’t think Connie can do it.

...If he can, the manga will have actually found a way to get even darker, which, if we’re being honest, I sort of thought we were beyond at this point, so flip a coin I guess.

Jean likewise has some of my favorite material in this chapter. He’s grown into a far better commander than he was at Trost, and having the terrain duplicated so well only emphasizes it.

But as ever, the true entertainment comes from Marco.

Who is also dead.

Yes, still.

“You’re not a strong person... so you can really understand how weak people feel.”

Jean is not wrong that destroying the rest of the world sort of fixes Paradis’ main problems. The issue is that it’s horrifically immoral, not that it wouldn’t be effective (until a civil war breaks out).

Because everyone spent all their time hating them, their only protection was murdering them all. And it’s all on one person’s decisions. They’re hardly involved, aren’t they? If they sit back and do nothing, it’s just karma, right? What could they possibly do at this point?

“But you’re also good at recognizing what’s going on at any given moment. You know exactly what needs to be done. I mean... most humans are weak, including me... But if I got an order from someone who saw things like I do... no matter how tough it was, I’d do my damnedest to carry it out.”

Jean’s right. They do reap the benefits of this horrible choice. No more complicated politics. Just a blank slate to do better on. Everyone on Paradis gets to live. Without putting too fine a point on it, that’s an argument we’re probably all familiar with, and here a character is, pointing it all out.

This fixes all their problems. Good, right?

No.

Because standing back and doing nothing while genocide is committed is fucking wrong.

That’s a question this series has grappled with from the beginning; which is more important, survival or doing what’s right?

In the start, we have a protagonist who is fully comfortable throwing his own life away in the name of doing what’s right. At the moment, he’s giving every appearance of being fully comfortable throwing away everyone else’s life in the name of keeping the people he cares about alive.

This chapter, we have Connie arguing for his mom’s life over someone more politically relevant’s.

Bringing back another fandom favorite, Serum Bowl pretty much locks these arguments in a cage and pokes them gently with an assault rifle.

Survival says Erwin. Armin doesn’t matter, except to Eren and Mikasa. Erwin matters to Levi in a way he doesn’t to them. What’s right falls to the floor except to be brandished like a machete against the other side’s wants. Hange has to swoop in and pick it up, and by then Floch’s involved and clubbing everyone over the head with his newfound fanaticism.

Once it’s gotten to that point, humanity’s continued survival still says Erwin.

It’s still saving a man’s life.

A man who will die without this intervention.

For the reason of bringing him back to life to suffer in everyone’s place.

It’s pragmatic, and it truly is best for humanity’s survival beyond the walls.

It is also deeply unkind.

Send these thousands of people to their deaths so  the rest can live. Eat each other. Die, die, and die until someone can live. Anything that promotes survival is, in fact, the right choice.

In the Female Titan arc, when Armin and Jean are watching the full extent of Erwin’s plan in front of their eyes, Armin says that Erwin might very well be evil for it, but given where they are, that’s a good thing. That someone strong enough to be that measured with their few remaining lives is in control--even if he’s committing a moral evil, he’s protecting something more important.

It is the preliminary version of Floch’s eventual conclusion.

They need a devil to ensure their survival.

Levi ultimately rejects that.

He doesn’t bring a man back to life so that he can bear their burdens.

It’s one of the smaller goods of the series. After a life of suffering through what is necessary, Levi chooses to release Erwin from it, even though he’s still tactically essential. Again and again people have discussed how much it would help if one more strategist was out Paradis’ table in these times. Levi’s decision is what prevents the most experienced from taking a seat.

Levi picks to be kind over making the choice that more properly secures survival.

Because the survival of what? More choices leading down the exact same road? The endless cycle of sacrifice that’s turned human bodies into resources instead of recognizing them as people?

Titanization at its core?

In the Serum Bowl, Levi doesn’t choose who he wants to survive. He chooses what. He chooses to recognize a man as human instead of a commodity. Something the two brats screaming at him couldn’t let go of. Something he couldn’t let go of.

Do you want to survive, or create a world worth surviving in?

Eren’s actions will destroy the world beyond the walls he always wanted to see. Indiscriminately. Some of it deserves destruction and worse. The parts that don’t will be swept away all the same.

This plan creates the world the First King told them they all lived in; there is Paradis, and nothing beyond it. The rest of humanity is dead.

Thanks to forfeiting all humanity.

And I guess if anyone on the island has a problem with it, kill them too. Also anyone who encourages anyone to have a problem with it. Just set up your secret task force, give the names, and keep those named living in terror for a century until one of them becoming a serial killer in response seems perfectly reasonable.

For those in need of the reminder, Karl is a douche.

Karl thought genocide was such a bad thing that he committed genocide over it, but it’s okay because his genocide was smaller.

Eren thinks genocide is such a bad thing he’s set up to commit genocide over it, but it’s okay because his genocide is going to be so big it’s going to end all genocides. Until Floch remembers he has a gun, probably. Which seems to be always. In which case this genocide will lead to a series of smaller genocides, eventually leading to not enough people being alive for genocide to be committed.

Curing the world of genocide once and for all.

Yay.

.

What I’m saying is that genocide is bad.

Full stop.

Genocide is bad.

-draws underlines-

-draws angry grrr face-

Bad.

Perhaps maybe these people should stop doing it.

For all the moral reasons, sure, but since we’re clearly beyond that point, maybe someone could just quietly suggest with the force of the world ending that maybe imitating the exact behavior that led to literally all of our cast’s problems is not the best move.

Also, Floch shouldn’t get to point a gun at Yelena’s head. Only Yelena gets to hold guns to people’s heads. She makes it cool. Floch makes everyone wonder why Floch still hasn’t died, only to remember that ah, yes, of course people like Floch don’t die.

BUT HEY, AT LEAST THEY KILLED ALL THE TITANS THAT USED TO BE THEIR COMMANDING OFFICERS. I’M SURE THAT’S NOT RELATED TO FLOCH’S GOOD MOOD AT ALL.

You know, it’s not that things are continuing to get worse. They are simply following the roadmap of horror we were handed in the brochure for this arc. None of this is new, it’s just now in play. So it’s not getting worse, it always was worse.

...Yelena, just take the gun and shoot Floch before you die. I feel like that’s the fastest path to something good happening.

Let’s see... points to all our kidlets being a dominant force against titans now. Them Trost Redux feels. Points to Jean realizing that Eren has power of friendshipped himself into villain status (allegedly). Points to Armin remembering how Pixis gave the humans of Paradis their first victory. Points to all of Sasha’s family because I like them.

Then that’s the chapter.

HOW YOU FEELING, ANNIE FANS?