#but. i realized that sounded like something an ant would say

[honeymushroom]

nobody understands my humor

[bigification]

Giant

I drift away to sleep laying on the hot sand and bathing in the sunlight. I feel relaxed for a moment until I'm thrust into a nightmare. I find myself at my desk, wasting away for a job that I hate. The only reason I went on this vacation is to escape, but no matter what I do I end up back in the same place. This nightmare seems different to the rest, it's so loud. Usually all I can hear is keys tapping and clocks ticking, but now there is another noise. It's... screaming. It's getting louder and louder, the sound of people screaming.

I jolt awake. The screaming was coming from real life. I sit up and see dozens of people running away from the beach. What the hell is going on. Some part of me wants to just go back to sleep, but if this many people are running maybe I should too. I begin to grab some of my stuff and get up to leave, but I'm stopped by what feels like an earthquake. I turn to the shoreline and see a giant beast emerge from the water. It looks human, but unless my eyes deceive me, he must be at least 50 feet tall.

The beast approaches the beach, I know I should run but my body won't let me move. I also notice I'm the only one left on the beach, everyone else has run. He steps onto the beach, the closer he gets, the more I realize how massive he actually is. Soon he's standing right in front of me, and I have to look straight up just to see his face. He reaches down and grabs me, holding nearly my entire body in just one hand. I try to scream, but there's no use now, all my screams will be muffled in the beasts hand.

I can't see much, so I spend the next few minutes trashing about until I have no energy left. It doesn't seem to be making a difference anyway. After what feels like a couple of minutes, the beast stops moving. I get gently laid down on the floor, and get a chance to look around at the expansive room around me. It looks like a normal house, just massive. It makes me feel like a tiny ant. As I'm taking in the scenery, I bump into something soft. I turn to see a massive leg in front of me. My eyes drift upward to see a massive man standing in front of me, he must have been the height of the man that brought me here, just a lot fatter. I shield my eyes from the man's massive cock, and look past his round gut to see the man looking down at me.

"Watch where you're going pipsqueak!" The giant says in a deep voice. I lost my balance as his receding steps shook the ground below me.

"Don't mind him, he's always in a bad mood." The giant who brought me here kneeled down to talk to me.

"Does anyone wear clothes around here?" I ask in return.

"Were not savages, we try to if we can come across clothes large enough. I know this might seem frightening, but you and I are more similar than you think."

"Why did you even bring me here?" I say confused.

"Come, walk with me, I'll explain." He says as I start to follow him, though it takes me a few minutes to cover the ground he can in one step so he walks slow.

"My name is Yusef, by the way." The giant says.

"I'm Jack." I reply.

"A long time ago, a settlement of humans came across a forest while hunting. This forest contained food with mystical properties that provided the humans with far more energy than they needed. The humans obviously took advantage of this to prevent their people from starving. Over time, their bodies started to grow larger than that of normal humans due to the food. Eventually they became a whole new species called 'Giants'." Yusef monologues. "The only problem is that only the men of that settlement grew, the women remained normal humans. This meant that the Giants could not reproduce. So out of desperation, they would find other humans and turn them into giants to keep their species alive. We are what's left of those giants."

"So... You want to turn me into a giant?" I ask, still trying to process the entire story.

"Yes." He responds bluntly.

We both walk in silence for a moment as I process the situation.

"Ok, I want to be a giant." I say confidently.

"What? Humans usually aren't so eager." He questions.

"My life back home sucked, I have nothing , I have no one. At least here I'll have something."

He smiled before pointing to the room beside us. "This is the most recent giant before you, Antony." Yusef points to a man sleeping on the couch.

"He's been asleep for a while now. The last feast really took a toll on him." He states.

"Feast?" I ask.

"You need a lot of calories when your body is that big, so we fatten up the Giants as much as we can."

"Well what about you, you're not fat."

"I stay fit because I am the one who has to get new giants like you, I need to be a bit more nimble than the average giant. For the rest of us, it's better to keep a hefty store of energy. You should have seen Antony here when he was human. He was built like me, big shoulders and skinny waist, washboard abs. He's only been here three days and now look at him."

As he's talking, I look down at my own body. Now I'm no Yusef, but I've worked hard for my body. Maybe I could be like Yusef and stay skinny. As I'm thinking, I notice Antony's hand move. "Are you sure he's asleep, his hand is moving." I ask.

"Oh he's asleep, he's just getting used to having the sex drive of a giant." He responds.

I notice that his hand is moving back and forth over his dick. "That kinda sucks for a species that can't reproduce." I say.

"It's not so bad, we like to have fun with it." Yusef turns to another giant and winks at him. "Lookin good Pete!" He shouts at the giant. Pete looks back and smiles before going back to checking himself out in the mirror.

I fall silent again, coming to another realization. I didn't think about it before but, if there are only male giants, then who do they fuck. Well I just got my answer, they fuck eachother. What do I do if I'm not gay. I mean with the amount of men they turn into giants, there's no way I'm the first straight guy they get. Maybe they just get so bored that they fuck eachother because there's nothing else to do. It's no big deal, I could just not have sex, it's like I was having much sex back home either. Besides, I'm sure they still have porn here, I won't be completely out of luck.

"And we've made it." Yusef says as he stops and turns to me. "This is where you become a giant."

I look around the empty room. "Why this room?"

"It's empty because the transformation can be quite jarring, so it is safe to be in an empty room."

"Jarring?" I ask, concerned.

"Well we'll give you a concentrated version of the food from the mystical forest I mentioned earlier. It speeds up the transformation to happen in mere minutes rather than months. Not all parts of the body grow at the same pace."

Before I can even process, Yusef grabs me and shoves a large green pellet into my mouth. "Swallow." He states. I swallow it, trying to ignore the disgusting taste.

It doesn't take long for the food to take its effect, and it's not subtle. It starts with my arms. My biceps become massive, growing larger than my head. Next to transform was unfortunately my dick. The pressure in my pants builds until they burst open, leaving me naked. My dick quickly grows out of proportion with my body, growing to the point that it hits the ground. It is even thicker than my legs, making me look like I have a third leg.

"I told you it could be jarring." Yusef said with a slight smirk on his face.

"Don't fucking look." I yell out.

"Oh don't be so uptight, I'm just enjoying the show." He laughs.

I can feel myself growing tall as my perspective gets higher and higher. Soon I can feel my ass grow massive as my stomach grows into a muscle gut, making it hard to keep my balance. The next few minutes are completely insane as different parts of my body grow out of proportion. Soon enough, I see that my eyes are at about the same height as Yusefs, meaning the transformation must be over soon. I finally feel the transformation stop as I'm a few feet taller than Yusef. I'm completely naked, tired, and my body is covered in sweat.

"Here dry off." Yusef throws me a towel. "Oh, and I'm glad you're happy to see me." He winks at me before looking down at my crotch. I look down and see that my dick is fully hard, sticking straight out. I jump and cover my crotch, he just chuckles and walks away.

I dry up and walk out of the room where I find a pair of cargo pants. I slip them on and they fit surprisingly well, I try my best to tuck my boner into the waist of the shorts, but it's not doing much to hide it. I walk around, getting used to the way my body moves. It's much harder to move at the same pace I did before, everything is so heavy that it takes more effort to start and stop moving. And it feels like the air is holding me back, almost like walking in water.

I make my way to the balcony and sit down. The view is quite beautiful from here. In one direction there is a lush swamp and the other is a forest. It's weird that the trees look so small, the tallest ones look like they would barely reach my waist. As I'm enjoying the view, Yusef approaches me. As he's talking to me, it's going in one ear and going right out the other.

"My eyes are up here buddy." He says, snapping me back to reality where I notice I was staring at his chest. I look up and make eye contact with him.

"Have this." He hands me what looks like a phone. "It's a smart tv. Jerry's quite good with electronics and whipped up some phones made from old smart TV's."

"Thanks." I say as I hold the tiny tv in my hand.

"It can do basically anything a phone can other than texting, but we use WhatsApp anyway." He says before turning and walking away. I catch myself staring at him as he walks away, but quickly turn my focus to my new phone. It feels just like a phone, with a touch screen and everything. It has a few apps installed, including twitter and it gives me an idea. I log into my account and scroll through the porn I had saved on it. I scroll and scroll, but I feel nothing. Not until I get to a clip I had saved from pornhub. That got me going. My legs tensed and my dick pulsed. Within seconds I shot my load into my new cargo shorts. As I continue to watch, I notice something. I haven't looked at the woman in this clip once, I have been fixed on the man the entire time. But I've never been gay. I scroll through the many videos and images of women on my twitter and I still feel nothing. Out of curiosity I decide to search for pictures of men. Who's a guy everyone seems to like, oh Chris Evans. I search him up and go to photos. Oh my god. My stomach sinks and my dick rises the instant I look at the photo. What happened to me? I look at all the half naked Giants that walk past the balcony, and it confirms the way I feel. Even weirder is my fixation on their fat. I can't stop staring at their guts and they man tits, or their asses as they walk by. Suddenly the thought of growing like the rest of the Giants doesn't seem so bad.

"You okay?" I'm interrupted by Yusef.

"Ya I'm fine." I try to cover the stain in my shorts.

"Well that didn't take you long." He chuckles, "There is someone you need to meet.

"Oh ya sure." I say while paying no attention to what he is saying. The pecs on that man are unreal, how does a man get pecs that large.

I follow Yusef to what looks like the kitchen and he sits me down. "This is Saul." Yusef says as a man in a bathrobe approaches me. He leans over the table in front of me and gets a closer look at me. He looks older, with salt and pepper hair and wrinkled skin. His robe is loosely tied, letting his hairy gut spill out and allowing me to see his soft chest.

"You always bring me the skinniest ones." Saul says. His eyes drift up and down my body as he pokes and grabs me. "I know exactly what you could use." He says as he walks into the pantry.

"What is he doing." I ask Yusef.

"He's our cook. Just eat whatever he gives you, he has been cooking for us for hundreds of years, so he knows what he's doing." He responds.

"Hundreds of years!?" I yell out in shock.

"Oh ya, I forgot to mention that. We live for centuries, and the food he gives you is essential to that."

Saul comes back with a full platter of food and places it in front of me. "Eat." He tells me as he stands there and watches. I think back to when I was sitting on the balcony, watching all of the fatass giants walking by. I want that. I started stuffing my mouth with all the food on the platter he gave me. His food tasted amazing. You'd think I was starving with the way I was ravaging this food. Before I knew it, the platter was empty. I lean back and pat my bloated stomach with one hand and rub my crotch with the other.

"I like this one." Saul says before running off to the pantry again.

"That was so good." I turn to Yusef.

"Good, there's a lot more to come. You may think you're full, but you can fit a lot more food in you than you think." He responds.

Rounds and rounds of food go by, and I just keep going. I don't even know how long it's been, I just keep eating. I eventually lean back in my chair, defeated. My eyes start to close as I fall asleep.

"He's eaten the most out of any giant I have even seen." I hear Saul say as I'm passing out

"You think he's gonna be bigger than Grant?" Yusef responds.

"Much bigger." Is the last thing I hear before passing out.

- Many days later -

"This is the giant before you." Yusef says.

"Am I gonna be that fat." I hear from an unfamiliar voice.

"No he's the biggest we've ever seen."

I slowly open my eyes and try to lean up, but I feel like I'm being held down. I look down and see a massive mound of fat. Wait, that's me, that's my stomach. I reach out my hands and see the fat sagging in my arms. I cup my pecs in my thick hands, though I'm not sure you could call them pecs anymore. They're so fat that they sag onto my stomach. Speaking of my stomach, I grab it, sending ripples through my body. I can feel it spilling out onto my legs.

"Jack, you're finally awake." Yusef says. "This is our soon to be giant."

I sit up as far as I can and look down at the tiny human. I can't help but wonder what I look like from his perspective.

Once they leave, Antony approaches me.

"Damn you got fat." I say to him. Since the last time I saw him sleeping on the couch, he's gained a ton of weight. His modest belly turned into a full blown beer gut and his pecs are now soft man tits like mine.

"Coming from you fatass." He laughs at me. "You're the biggest slab of meat we've ever seen."

He continues to approach me, and I can see his bulge grow in his tight ass jeans.

"All the Giants here are so boring, they never want to fuck. But I know you feel different, don't you." He sits on my lap, spreading his legs around mine and resting our guts against each other. "Think about what we looked like just a week ago. Strong, with big biceps and washboard abs, now look what they've done to us." He almost moans while saying it. "Isn't it so hot." He pushes me into my back, making me feel the full weight of my own body pinning me down. He starts kissing my chest, sucking on my new fat. He kisses down my hulking gut, leaving a trail of hickies. He lifts up my belly and sticks his head underneath, he pushes my fat pad and wraps his lips around my dick. I let out a loud moan, slightly embarrassed when I realize everyone in the house could hear that. It doesn't matter, I turn my attention back to Antony. My knees buckle from the pleasure as I hold his head against my crotch. I let out another loud moan as I pump my load into his mouth. He looks up at me, "my turn." He says with his mouth dripping with cum. He spreads my legs and sticks his dick inside me. My body almost repels at the feeling, but I quickly accept it. I never thought something up my ass could feel so good. He starts to speed up, becoming more and more aggressive. I can see the ripples run through the fat in our bodies and I can hear the couch groan under our combined weight. It doesn't take long for a warm feeling to fill my insides. Antony lets out a satisfied sigh as he sits back onto the couch.

"You know I was kinda scared about this whole 'becoming a giant' thing, but now I'm a lot more excited." He says as he rests his hand on his gut. "You know being a fat ass is a lot better than I thought it would be."

I chuckle, "ya it ain't so bad is it." I lay back on the couch and relax, having no worries to stress me out.

[callmerainman]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 | 𝐊𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

fandom. Hunter X Hunter

pairing. Knuckle Bine x hunter!fem!Reader

spoilers!. huge Chimera Ant Arc spoilers

plot. the night before the final fight against King Meruem in the palace of East Gorteau, you decide it’s time to confess your love to none other than your friend and Hunter companion, the oblivious Knuckle Bine. Because you can’t sleep, and cause maybe you’ll never have another chance to tell him. But instead, Knuckle makes you promise something: to put the World before him tomorrow. Will you respect his wishes?

word count. 3,6k

prompts. Chimera Ant Arc, aftermath of the Chimera Ant Arc final battle, Reader is also a Hunter and Morel apprentice, secretly in love, love confessions, awkward romance, Knuckle is dense, kissing, making out, getting together.

You like many things about Knuckle.

In the beginning he didn't give you a good impression. You both got close to each other after you got taken under the protective wing of Morel, who instructed you along with Shoot. Shoot is a quieter type, really silent, but getting along with him was smooth and easy. With Knuckle it was a whole other story. During your first missions together he always raised doubts about the tactics you proposed, on the other hand you did the same with him. If you said A, he would say B. If he wanted to go right, you wanted to go left. And this would always end up in yelling, staring contests and headbutting. You understood some things about Knuckle: he was hot-headed, impulsive, loud and a braggart. But he was also kind. No matter how many times he shouted against you, he never did it for personal hatred. It was for genuine interest in helping people in need, and to make sure that the mission was successful. He never insulted you with more than a superficial "idiot", and from his eyes you always understood that he didn't really mean it and that he didn't want to offend your intelligence. Even Knuckle soon realized how kind you were, and how much you took care of things and people you cared about. He respected it. You two learned how to trust one another and make a better team, much to Shoot's and Morel's relief, who honestly couldn't take it anymore. Your fights decreased, replaced by an unconditional affection and a unbreakable loyalty. And from your part, even love. People would often ask if you and Knuckle were a couple. And every time both you and him would answer with a ferocious "OF COURSE NOT!". Knuckle's cheeks and ears would get hot, and you would feel your stomach erupt in warmth from embarrassment. You couldn't look at each other in the face.

His hair, first of all. They were his trademark. Always styled in a pompadour, they were really popular between high school thugs. Knuckle told you that he even formed a gang when he was a student, and that it was the most feared inside the school. To be honest, you were really sure that it was just a very normal group of friends who loved to slack off, and that he told you that just to sound tough. You like the stress lines under his eyes, which give him a serious look just how he wanted it. And you appreciate his ears, which become red and hot when he loses his shit or when he's embarrassed, two moods he constantly swings between.He has a pretty body, toned and muscular thanks to his intensive workouts and his inclination towards the art and use of Nen.And you like that he takes care of stray dogs, and the way he cries so easily out of sympathy and emotion. He's a sweet guy who gets moved to tears so often even though he hides it behind a tough-guy armor. You like more things about him than you can count.

One time, while patrolling alone with Morel and Shoot during a mission, you dared to question them about all of this.

"I wonder why people always ask me and Knuckle if we're a couple. For example, why not me and you, Shoot?"

If only Shoot had eyebrows, he would have raised them all the way up his hairline. So his hooded eyes were just comically wide. Morel, on the other hand, erupted in a loud, gigantic laugh that made you jump in surprise. A laugh so hard that he had to hold onto his pipe. You stopped, putting your hands on your hips.

"C'mon, what are you laughing at!" you pouted.

"Are you really asking why people think that you and that idiot are couple?!" Morel choked between laughter "you with the shiny eyes every time you stare at him? Who drools when he takes off his jacket during combat? Who plays with her hair like schoolgirl when we get out for drinks and he offers you a beer? You gotta be kidding me!"

And he proceeded to keep laughing again. Meanwhile, your face caught on fire. You smacked both hands on your mouth, shaking your head vigorously.

"I never stared at him!" you tried to object.

"If I may intrude" Shoot intervened, shyly "you stare at him a lot"

"That's not possible..." you whispered.

You wanted to threaten your own mentor to stop laughing, because what Morel said wasn't true at all. You didn't like Knuckle that way. But you just couldn't protest. Morel was right. You did really like Knuckle that way!

"Fuck, I like Knuckle! How could it be...and most importantly, what do I do!" you exclaimed, fisting your hair in your hands out of panic.

Morel sighed, puffing some smoke in the process. Then, he showed off one of the big grins of his.

"Boys are complicated, dearie, so I suggest we all get drunk tonight"

"Sounds like a great idea" you replied.

The step from liking to loving was really short. It was so easy to fall in love with Knuckle once you understood that you had feelings for him. Even though you kept fighting now and then, and you still called each other idiots. He cared about immensly, and you cared about him. Everything culminated one night after you promised to protect each other with your own lives. Morel took you out to drink as usual, and maybe you and him were a bit drunk.

"If the situation ever requires it, I'll give up my life for you, (Y/N)" Knuckle said.

Yeah, you did drink, and you were waiting for a taxi outside the bar you usually spent your free time in. But the way his eyes looked into you as he said that was so damn serious. And you, to such a determined and kind gaze, could answer with a stare just as serious.

"And I'll do the same for you, Knuckle"

Night before the selection

It's a quiet night. Clear, silent. You and your teammates would appreciate it more if only there wasn't this uneasiness in the air. Tomorrow the King of Chimera Ants, Meruem, will begin the selection, which will kill millions of people in no time. You, Knuckle, Morel and Shoot were selected to go to the NGL region to get rid of the menace. It's, without the shadow of a doubt, the most dangerous mission you've ever dealt with, you understood it during your fights against the Ants. And facing the Royal Guards will be way worse. Both you and Knuckle risked a lot, and if you ever had to die one day, you feel like it would be tomorrow. And you still didn't tell Knuckle that you love him. What if this is the last good moment to tell him? Tomorrow you won't have time for sure, and maybe not even after, because you're not sure that there'll be an after tomorrow. The thought creeps you out and prevents you from sleeping and gathering energies. You tried to sleep on the floor of the small abandoned chalet where you and and your squad are resting. But the fact that Gon and Killua keep doing push-ups doesn't really help. With a nervous sigh, you get up. You exit the chalet, taking a big breath of fresh air. You were feeling like suffocating before. The air is cold just right. And stars are really beautiful in NGL, without any artificial light the night sky is a whole other story. This could be your last chance to see so many pretty stars, because you're pretty sure that tomorrow you won't have any time to raise your nose up. An imperceptible sound of chattering makes his way towards your ears. You turn around to see if you have company, but there's no one. A small leaf lands on your nose, and you look upwards. Shoot and Knuckle are discussing something on top of a tall tree, you can't hear what they're saying but the concern in their voices is evident. Knowing that you aren't the only one uncomfortable relieves you, so you decide to climb up the tree and reach them.

"Trouble sleeping?"

As soon as Knuckle sees you, he jumps. And Shoot flushes red in a matter of seconds, sweating profusely. You raise a curious brow.

"What's going on? Did I interrupt something?" you ask, concerned.

Even Knuckle's cheeks become a blushing mess, his lips pressed tightly against each other and his muscular body stiff under his white jacket.

"No it's just..." Knuckle says, almost stuttering "y-you...YOU HAVE SOME NASTY EYEBAGS!"

Knuckle points a finger right to your face, and Shoot covers his face with his hand.

You're absolutely not convincing...he thinks.

But Knuckle still manages to make you mad as fuck, and you grit your teeth.

"That ain't true! It's just that I can't sleep tonight!" you protest, raising two fists in front of the Beast Hunter.

"I think I'll leave you two alone" Shoot whispers, and with only a jump he gets down the tall tree.

"Shoot, wait!" you exclaim.

Having his company would have reassured you, since he was just as anxious as you. You're always surrounded by impulsive Hunters without any sense of danger, who understands you better than him?

"But for real, are you okay?"

It was Knuckle who talked, who's voice got softer. He's looking at you with apprehension, the stress lines under his eyes frowning. You relax your gaze too as you meet his eyes.

"Not really" you sigh, and you sit right next to him on the tree branch, your feet swinging in the darkness beneath it.

"Nervous for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we went on so many missions before this one without loosing once. But we aren't invincible, and this is a really big menace. I'm worried that we might not make it"

You were so scared of never getting to tell him that you love him. Maybe you should do it now. Knuckle doesn't say anything. It's true, by this hour tomorrow he could have already lost you. The thought terrifies him. He had already faced 5000 battles without losing one, but nothing can guarantee him that you'll be with him after tomorrow. He presses his lips together and looks down. You can't stand his eyes either.

"You're right, this time we can't be so certain" he murmures "I'm sorry, (Y/N), I can't make you feel better"

You have to tell him now.

"Knuckle, there's something I have to sa-"

"Wait, (Y/N), I have to tell you something too" Knuckle interrupts you. He has never done this, he always respected your words, even when he didn't agree.

You hold your breath, gripping your clothes between your fingers.

"What?" you ask with half a voice.

Knuckle finally looks at you, serious. He reaches for you with his hand and softly grazes your face so that you can look at him. You hope he doesn't feel it getting warmer under his touch, because you feel that way in response of his unexpected gesture. You just know that your pupils are dilated now. You're drowning in his eyes, always so furious yet kind. After making sure that you're looking in his eyes, he lets his hand fall from your face slowly.

"I..." Knuckle opens his mouth, but it seems like words are stuck in his throat. He never had trouble talking, why now?

For a moment it seems like Knuckle's stumbling on his own words.

"I..." ha takes a deep breath, before shaking his head "made you a promise, one night in front of our bar"

You look at him intently.

"And I know that I was very drunk, but I always took it seriously. And I know you did the same"

You didn't expect him to talk about your promise. Instinctively, you scoot closer to him making your body scratch against the bark of the branch.

"Of course I took it seriously" you say.

"But I gotta ask you to break it”

You spread your eyes open. Knuckle gets close to you too and lays his hand on your shoulder. A shiver goes down your spine.

"Knuckle I can't"

"But you have to, because this isn't just a mission, you just said it yourself. This is about saving the world, and promises can't count anymore. Except for this one"

"Which one?"

Slowly your hand trailed up your own shoulder to touch Knuckle's, caressing his fingers. Usually the embarrassment would be too much to handle. Your physical touch was always playful or angry, never intimate. But you don't have time to be embarrassed.

"Tomorrow you have to prioritize the mission, not me. Even if I'll be on the verge of death, you have to put our duty first, not me. I know that this goes against what we always said to each other, but please respect it. If the situation ever requires it, put the world before me"

Your fingers tighten around his hand harder. You feel yourself tearing up but you repress them. You grit your teeth and tremble. You start to really fear how you'll feel tomorrow if this is your reaction at just the idea of losing Knuckle. Would you ever take it?

"Alright, I'll do it"

Knuckle is surprised, but pleasantly. He really didn't want to fight with you tonight.

"But only if you'll do the same with me. If the situation requires it, choose the world and not me"

Knuckle holds your hand on your shoulders. He frowns. He always does it when he's conflicted. Then, he nods with determination in front of your eyes.

"Alright, I promise"

"Then I promise too"

Too focused on holding your hands, none of you noticed the free ones crossing their fingers behind your backs.

Dawn after the fight of East Gorteau

You broke your promise with Knuckle and Knuckle did the same for you. You woke up next to Ikalgo in a warehouse under East Gorteau's palace, where Meruem lived. The octopus explained to you that it was over, that the King was poisoned and was spending his last moments with Komugi, the girl you had in custody hours ago. You won. You're covered in wounds, but still able to stand up. You ended up like this while fighting against Youpi, throwing yourself in defense of Knuckle who fell in his trap. Your weapons were reduced to dust by the Royal Guard, but you were able to blind some of his eyes. However, the fight made both you and your Nen unable to fight. Your Nen was proven really effective against Royal Guards, so giving it up was a loss for your team and for the chances of saving humanity. You broke your promise. Knuckle did the same for you when Youpi threatened not only to kill Morel, but also yourself if he didn't deactivate Potclean. And so Knuckle did. You both broke the promise that you never intended to keep. After the fight you collapsed from tiredness and loss of blood. You had a brief and confused memory of Knuckle taking you in his arms before laying you down in a safe place. When you woke up, Ikalgo was next to you and told you the news.

"Where's Knuckle? Is he okay?!" you blurt out.

Ikalgo nods "The King knocked him out along with Meleoron, but he's fine. He should still be at one of the palaces towers"

Using your last energies, you stand up. Ikalgo cured all your wounds but scratches and cuts are still visible. Some scars will never go away.

"(Y/N)! Are you sure?" Ikalgo asks, concerned.

"Yeah, I'll go get him. Can you take me to him? There are some things that still haven't said to him and I thought I would never be able to"

Ikalgo, seeing your sincere and tired smile, nods. He takes you under one of his tentacles, supporting your body until you arrive in front of the room where Knuckle was laying down unconscious. You stand in the room. Sunlight beams through the window and delicately touch his sculpted body, his face still frowned in determination despite his loss of senses. You smile again, calm, before looking at Ikalgo. You exchange looks of understanding, then he trots towards Meleoron and takes away his sleeping but unscathed body.

It's just you and Knuckle now.

You get close to his body slowly, ruins crankling under your feet. You crouch down in front of him, sitting on your legs. You reach for his hair and start caressing them slowly. You almost don't want to wake him up, even though it's a tormented sleep caused by violence.

"Knuckle, it's me, (Y/N)"

His back rises as if he had been underwater for so long. He groans deeply before using all his energy to roll on his back. Now he's facing upwards, his gaze looking up at your calm and sweet smile. Knuckle squeezes and opens his eyes slowly, welcomed by your face. A small smile extends on his own face in response.

"(Y/N)..." he slurs, his voice raspy "you're alive...did we win?"

Carefully, you take Knuckle's head between your hands and slowly place it on your lap. He lets you do so without daring to protest.

"Yeah, we won. The King was poisoned and is spending his last hours in peace. It's over" you answer.

You gently start to caress his pompadour, now messy. Your delicate strokes go in tandem with your tired breaths.

"Great, but...I broke the promise" Knuckle goes on, a bit mortified.

"I did it too, it doesn't matter, I would do it again" you reply as you keep touching him.

You never had such an intimate moment, such a gentle touch under sun rays. You've never been so happy to see the sun rising.

"Knuckle, there's something I have to tell yo-"

"I'm in love with you"

You jump in surprise and spread your eyes open. For a moment you believe that he's just being delirious because of tiredness. But then you get lost in his gaze. Knuckle's face, always so angry and tough, completely melted in a tender and meek smile, kissed by the sun, pacified. You stop stroking his hair for a sec.

"What?"

"I'm in love with you, I really mean it. Tonight I realized how precarious the world is and that I couldn't afford to just not tell you" Knuckle says, in a whisper.

Your eyebrows arch upwards and a moved smile sprawls across your wounded face.

"I love you too, Knuckle"

Knuckle's reaction is similar to yours. Mouth slightly parted, a small inhale of surprise. It's really sweet. He didn't expect you to reciprocate, he didn't expect nothing from you in fact.

"(Y/N)..."

"I love you even though I always fight with you, even if you're hot-headed, stubborn, a braggart and with a weird haircut. But I love the way you care about others even when you deny it, and the way you cry for them. I love your haircut too, by the way. I just want to give you back the kindness you give to me and other people"

Your hands touches him again, this time caressing his cheek. Knuckle doesn't know what to say, words dying in his throat. You get lost in his eyes once again, then you snap out of it and your cheeks get hot.

"Ah-ehm, sorry...um...I wanted to say these things last night on the tree but I chickened out " you stutter awkwardly.

Knuckle breaks the silence with a laugh that echoes through the chamber.

"Hey, what are you laughing at?" you ask, scowling.

"It's funny, I wanted to confess too last night. Me and Shoot were talking about that, and that's why you scared us when you appeared out of nowhere. Ah, I don't even know why I told him!"

You chuckle "Maybe because you care about him a lot"

"That's not true, take that back!" Knuckle shouts, pointing a finger in your face.

Knuckle's face becomes a blushing mess, and you let yourself go in a laugh because Knuckle is always the same. Incapable of hiding his kindness and his affection towards other people. The finger aiming at your face touches your cheek, then under the eye, next thing you know his entire hand is encapsulating your cheek.

"Come over here..."

Without even realising it, you bend over Knuckle and you kiss. You often asked youself how kissing Knuckle would feel like, and this exactly corresponds to the idea. So delicate, but passionate. Knuckle's lips move on yours and you reciprocate immediately, closing your eyes. You press your mouth against his, it's warm like a hug of someone coming back from war. Warm like someone who couldn't wait anymore to say I love you. When you rise up you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile, but unsuccessfully. You're sure that your face is a mess, just like Knuckle's which is really hot red.

"Wow..." you whisper.

"Yeah, wow..." Knuckle murmurs, dumbfounded.

You look down at him again "What do you say if we wait for Morel and Shoot to get better, then we all go out to get drunk to celebrate, then we go make love in my apartment?"

"Hell yeah"

Knuckle gathers some energies to hoist himself on his elbows and sit up. You help him stand up, but you have to support each other under your arms because both of you are too tired. You start to walk out the room.

"And after that you'll be my girlfriend?" Knuckle asks.

"I'm pretty sure that I already am"

Suddenly, you hear some sniffling echoing through the empty palace alley. You turn around.

"Are you seriously crying right now? For real?" you ask, startled.

"Shut up! I'm not!'

"Yeah you are, idiot!"

"Don't you dare tell this to anyone, or..."

"Or?"

"I don't know, I can't do anything to you you're my girlfriend now!"

[ironychan]

Today's explorations brought us a couple of new birds. The first one was only today on a technicality, because it was a very wee hour indeed when Valdez let herself into our tent and woke me up to tell me there was a really weird animal outside and she knew I'd want to see it. Kibwana refused to get up, but Reynolds and I followed her to an old log, where we found this:

It looks something like a cross between a crane, a grey owl, and an anteater. It and its fluffier offspring were crouched by the log, tilting their heads back and forth to listen, and then they'd lick out with long tongues to catch insects. They didn't seem to need to open their beaks to do this, and I'm not actually sure they could open - I never saw them do so. If the adult needed to pull more of the log apart, it would use the four-inch blunt talon on the end of each otherwise useless wing.

Reynolds says the way the feathers fan out around each eye is actually an adaptation for hearing - it funnels sound into the ears like a radio dish. The adult bird was clearly aware of us and looked directly at us several times, but since we weren't coming any closer it didn't seem bothered as long as we didn't make any sudden movements. Eventually it got its fill of ants and wandered off.

We asked Valdez what she was doing so far from our campsite in the middle of the night. She said she wanted to get further from the fire (which we leave smoldering so the wildlife won't get too nosy) in order to look at the stars. Apparently she's been mapping them. She's even invented several constellations based on tools and animals. I guess we all have our little keep-sane projects.

She was telling me more about it around lunchtime, while the two of us were scrounging for edible plant material, when we got today's second bird. This one was a bastard.

It was very tiny, mostly black on top with an ochre-coloured underside patterned with black v's, and a white mark on the back of its neck. It was also very round with tiny feet and absolutely adorable. I couldn't believe how lucky I was when it landed on my arm and put its beak right up against my skin. I figured it was licking up sweat for salt or something. I was wrong.

After a second or two I realized a bead of blood was forming where it touched me, and when I took a closer look I saw that it actually had a very long, needle-like upper beak that had gone right into my skin without me even feeling it, and a very short lower beak that it opened to let its little tongue lap up the blood. I'm sure I took this in for just a split second, but it felt like I stared at for an hour, unable to move. The image is burned into my retinas. I keep seeing it when I close my eyes.

I hollered and shook it off me, and it flew away. Boonmee put some alcohol on the puncture and told me to watch it carefully for signs of infection. Other than that there's not a lot I can do but wait and see how many diseases the little bugger gave me.

We took several suggestions for the name of the vampire bird, but seem to have settled on Reynolds', which was White-Naped Syrinx. 'Syrinx' is a character from Greek mythology and also the root word from which we get 'syringe'. It is also apparently the word for a bird's voice box. This would be much more interesting to me if I didn't have a hole in my arm.

Somebody suggested calling the anteater bird an owlvark, but Vandebeek said 'aardvark' means 'earth pig' in Dutch, so a more accurate name would be 'aarduil'. When somebody writes a bestiary for this future, we now know what the first page will be.

[nordschleifes]

chapter twelve — juro que

➝ love is always the best medicine, and charlie is willing to give fernando all the doses he needs to recover.

➝ word count: 5,9k

➝ warnings: hallucinations, hospital, puppets and ron dennis (not in that order)

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie, @he-is-the-destined, @sunnytkm23 and @enaticosencantados as requested.

The lights obscured Fernando's vision, the loud sound of people applauding making him feel dizzy as he tried to make out his surroundings. The place reminded him of a familiar television studio he had been to a few weeks earlier to promote the race in Las Vegas. What was he doing there again?

“Wait a second… Why am I in Madrid? Shouldn't I be in the United States?”, he thought.

— We're back with Fernando Alonso, two-time Formula 1 world champion and Aston Martin driver — he heard a familiar voice say. He turned his head to the right and managed to focus his vision on the face of Pablo Motos, the host of the television show he had just made an appearance on. Only this time, he had a dark green headset on his head.

He raised an eyebrow, confused. Why was he wearing one of the headphones from the Aston garage? Even more perplexing, why was he speaking in English? Fernando thought about prodding him to ask him when he had learned English in the first place, because he knew Pablo didn’t speak the language that well. As he reached out to tap Pablo on the shoulder to ask, he felt a twinge of pain in his hand, as if something had pierced the skin. 

— Fernando, the last time you were here, we already talked about the season and adapting to a new team, but we need to talk about this — Pablo said, pointing to the screen on the right side of the stage. The images projected on it made Fernando’s stomach twist. 

It was a picture of the moment he met Charlie in the Aston Martin garage after his victory in Montreal. From the moment Fernando had crossed the finish line, all he could think about was sharing it with her. After all, she was responsible for their victory that day. She’d made that joy possible. Charlie believed in him and urged him on, even when he thought he’d never be able to catch Max, and their efforts had paid off.

However, Fernando remembered how he felt at the moment in the picture. Their hug carried so much more than the joy of victory. It was that moment, when Charlie was in his arms, laughing and wiping away her tears, that Fernando realized that he loved her.

— Yeah, that’s me and my race engineer...

— You two are very good friends, aren't you? — the host asked, a mischievous smile on his face.

— Yeah, Charlie is a good friend of mine — Fernando answered, trying to ignore the feeling that he had already answered that question before. “People ask about her all the time, this is normal”, he thought to himself, squirming uncomfortably in the chair he was sitting on — She's always by my side, she's my eyes outside the car, so to speak.

— Well, I know of two… I think calling them people would be a stretch, but they’re both very interested in discussing this with you — Pablo said, before turning to the audience, giving them a very rehearsed-looking smile — Everyone, please give a round of applause for Trancas and Barrancas!

In front of him, two light purple puppets with bulging eyes and yellow teeth rose from a cut-out space of Pablo’s desk. For some reason, Fernando never realized how comical they looked, intended to be a cartoonish impression of what an ant looked like. They normally had some sort of prop or costume, but this time, Fernando was shocked when they each were wearing brown wigs with long hair and wispy bangs, with dark green headsets on their heads to match Pablo’s. One of them — Barrancas, the one with the unibrow and buck teeth — had his hair down, while the other puppet, Trancas, who had a vacant expression and a singular, off-center tooth, had his wig styled in a messy bun. 

They were dressed as Charlie.

— Good evening! Good evening! — Trancas said, turning to the audience and nodding, his pupils rattling humorously around the plastic domes that formed the puppet’s eyes. They were also speaking English, which gave Fernando even more of an uneasy feeling.

— Good evening, Fernando — Barrancas said, his bangs falling awkwardly over his monobrow.

— Good evening — he murmured, confused. Things were starting to feel distinctly odd — Why are you wearing those outfits?

— We decided to wear these things to make you more comfortable, and because it seems to be in style now — Barrancas said, shaking his head and ruffling his hair.

— And because you like Charlie…

— Shut up, Trancas — the puppet scolded, before turning to Fernando again — So, taking advantage of your being here, we decided to submit you to a test that you’ve done before, but this time, we have a bigger, better, more accurate version, to see if you remain sincere in your answers or if you are…

— Easily swayed by a pretty woman — the other puppet said, turning toward the audience as they broke out into cheers and whistles.

— What do you think, Fernando?

He didn't have time to respond before the puppets cheered and the crew came onto the stage with the equipment for the game, as loud music and applause filled the studio. Before he knew it, Fernando was strapped to the chair he’d been sitting on, with sensors strapped to his chest, arms, and legs. The one on his right leg had been cinched a bit too tight, causing his ankle to hurt.

— Are you ready? — Barrancas asked, not waiting for a response from Fernando before continuing — Let’s get started!

More applause. More of the suspenseful soundtrack in the background. More lights. More pain.

— Fernando Alonso, if that's really your name — Trancas began, his antennae and pupils shaking — Tell us, honestly and don't lie… Do you like Charlie Whitlam?

Fernando blinked. “What kind of question is that?”, he wondered.

— Yes, I do.

One of the lights that had been placed on the table came on, and the public reaction was completely negative, as well as the sound that went off in the studio.

He was lying.

— I can't believe it, Fer — someone said beside him. When he turned his face, the pilot realized that it was no longer Pablo Motos who was there, but Alberto, wearing a blue sweatshirt and his arms crossed on the table — Are you lying to the whole world straight away?

— What are you doing here, Galle?

— That doesn't matter, now answer the question.

— But…

— Mr. Fernando Alonso — Trancas said, his voice high and shrill — Do you like Charlie Whitlam?

— No? — he replied in a low voice, without any certainty.

Green light. “But how?”, the driver thought.

— Well, you don't like her — Barrancas said, ruffling his dark hair — So does that mean you love her?

Fernando swallowed hard.

That word seemed small compared to what he felt for Charlie.

After Andrea broke up with him, Fernando simply stopped thinking about trying to maintain a romantic relationship. Quite apart from the strain of a life of travel and constant and total focus on the races he needed to do, there was the whole issue related to his desire to maintain his own privacy while being around people who were clearly too delighted or scared with the fame and the spotlight to continue with the relationship.

In the end, love became a futile effort, a waste of time and energy he preferred to save for his professional life. Until Charlie sat next to him on the tires during pre-season testing.

She was an interesting enigma for Fernando. She'd had a completely different upbringing than he had, but with the same result. She had been fascinated by cars since she was a little girl and enjoyed karting as much as he did. She understood the world of Formula 1 as much as he did. Rather, she loved that world.

Falling in love with Charlie was easy. When Fernando realized it, he had a sinking heart, holding her while she had a panic attack due to the storm. He, who never minded the rain, came to dread it every time he was next to her. He couldn't bear to see Charlie shaken like that again, completely torn to pieces in front of him.

She deserved to be happy, a wide smile lighting up her expression, her eyes narrowed under the bangs that made her completely unique in his eyes. Charlie deserved it and Fernando was willing to give it to her, whether it was on the track or when they were alone in their little bubble. He would give her the whole world, even if it meant his ruin.

— Yes. I love Charlie.

The green light flickered in front of him, causing him to let out a sigh of relief. He knew he was speaking the truth, but there was a certain tension in having his own words called into question.

— Do you want to date her? — Trancas asked.

— Well, we kind of date…

Red light. Siren. Lie.

— Have you asked Charlie to be your girlfriend yet? — Barrancas questioned.

— No, but… Do I need to?

— C’mon, Fernando! — someone shouted from the audience. Turning to face forward, the driver found Lance on his feet, looking completely outraged by his answer — Of course you do! You told me that yourself, that you needed to talk to her...

— The problem is, when I thought about doing that, she just ran out of my room in her underwear…

A wave of gasps rose from the audience as a horn blared through the studio. Looking at the other people, Fernando realized that he was facing people he knew. Lewis, Flavio, Giancarlo, Jarno, as well as Raquel and Dasha, were all there, protesting his words.

— Hey, hey, hey, hold on, champ! — one of the puppets interrupted him suddenly — This is a family show, no details like that…

— But I didn’t say anything…

— Doesn't matter, we can only talk about stuff like that after ten, okay? — the ant said.

— Mr. Alonso, answer us with complete sincerity — Barrancas began — And without lying, eh? Are you willing to someday marry Charlie Whitlam?

The question made his heart sink inside his chest. He had fantasized about his wedding a few times when he was young, especially when he was engaged to Raquel. However, after his divorce, it became just another beautiful experience of life that had come to an end. Fernando had even thought about getting married again, first with Lara and then with Linda, but nothing very concrete.

Then he saw Charlie in that white jumpsuit at the boutique in Lugano, looking into his eyes through the reflection of the mirror. His mind drew the scenario almost automatically. White lace, hair up, a shy smile on her face and white English roses in her hand.

— No. I will marry her.

Green light. Truth.

— Interesting — a deep voice replied, the British accent rising. Looking to the side again, Fernando found that Alberto was no longer there, but Ron Dennis. Wearing a suit and tie, the man was smiling at him in a rather sadistic way as he stroked a very familiar orange cat — And do you think she wants to marry you?

— Yes.

Red light. Lie.

— Oops — Trancas said, laughing — I think you're wrong.

— Charlotte is an amazing woman, Fernando — Ron said, running a hand over the fur of the cat he was holding — She deserves the best there is in this world.

— I know, and I'm the best for her.

Red light. Lie. Looking at the device placed on the table, right in front of him, the driver was completely shocked.

— Even you don't believe that, Fernando — Ron said, chuckling.

— I do believe it, she is the woman of my life! — he exclaimed — I don't even know what you're doing here, you have nothing to do with it.

— Of course I do, who brought you back to McLaren in 2015? — the man asked — You would never have met Charlotte if it weren't for me. I even think you owe me a thank you.

— First, it's Charlie, she doesn't like being called Charlotte. Second, I won't thank you, those years at McLaren only hurt everyone!

Green light. True.

— I call her whatever I want, I know what's best for her.

— No, you do not know. Charlie is not a child. She knows what's best for herself. And I'm only going to believe that she wants nothing to do with me anymore when she tells me so.

Ron pressed his thin lips together.

— And while she doesn't speak?

— I'll keep imagining our lives, our wedding, even our children.

— Do you want children? — Trancas asked. Looking at the puppet, he couldn't help but smile.

— I do. And Charlie will be their mother.

There weren't any horns or lights going on. Suddenly, there was nothing else holding Fernando to the bench, not even Trancas and Barrancas in the space in the middle of the table. There was no audience, no soundtrack. There was just him and Ron Dennis, holding Charlie's cat in his lap and scratching its pointy ears.

— I think your time here is up — the man said, getting up from the bench.

— My time? — Fernando asked.

— They are waiting for you — Ron replied, placing the cat in his arms.

— They? Who are you talking about?

— Your exit is through that door — Dennis said, pointing to a corner of the studio behind him — And don't forget to give him back to his owner.

It was time for Fernando to turn his head to find the door for his former team boss to disappear. He was alone, holding the feline Ron in his arms, completely confused. Looking at the cat, the driver was in doubt for a few seconds before heading towards the door, feeling some irritating pain in his right foot.

When he opened the door, the light overshadowed his vision for a few seconds. Blinking his eyes hard and passing his free hand over his face, it took Fernando a few seconds to realize where he was. The well-wooded lane, with benches positioned just ahead of him, gave him a good lead. However, it was a man passing by wearing a familiar shirt that confirmed his suspicions.

He was in Oviedo.

Walking through the park, Fernando had no idea what to do. Should he try to go home? But if he was downtown, he would need to take a cab to Cayes, where his parents' house was. “Do I even have any money for a cab?”, he asked himself, looking for a place to stop and look for some money inside his jeans.

Then, he heard a familiar laugh.

It was a laugh he loved.

Turning back, he saw a group sitting under some shade. The older couple were holding each other, watching a little girl tell something, gesturing with her hands. Beside them, another couple with two teenage girls were listening intently to the smaller one, as was the other woman, who had a bulging belly.

It was his parents.

Lorena and Edo. Maria and Bianca.

Charlie.

— The duck said ‘quack’ and went back to the lake with the piece of banana I gave him — the little girl exclaimed — Did it like it, mamá?

— I'm sure, my dear — Charlie replied, running a hand through the girl's dark hair before she turned away. The strong chin, sweet smile and blue eyes was what he needed to be sure, eyes filling with tears.

He was looking at his daughter.

— Come on, Bia — the girl said, the wind swaying her green dress — Let's play ball!

His niece smiled as she got up and ran after her cousin, who was holding a white soccer ball. Watching the two play, Charlie rubbed her belly, probably thinking about what it would be like when their other child arrived. Walking slowly towards them, Fernando couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was.

That was his family, his life. He had parents, a sister, a brother-in-law and two nieces that he loved unconditionally. He had a partner he was completely in love with and two kids with her. Two pieces of his own heart out of his chest, the two greatest treasures he could have in life.

— Papá! — the little girl exclaimed, with a wide smile, waving at him as she guided the ball towards him.

— Mi cielo — he replied, as he followed, the pain in his arm from holding Ron growing stronger.

— Look, papá, I know how to do just like Vini!

— Yes, mi cielo...

— Get the ball, papá — the girl said, kicking the ball hard.

As the ball hit Fernando squarely in the face, his vision went white.

Charlie was tired. Tired of crying, tired of walking the hospital corridors, tired of sitting there, staring at Fernando, completely inert, while the machine above him beeped rhythmically, indicating that his heart was still beating. It was a sign that he was still with her, just not in the way she wanted.

She, along with Luis, Edo and Alberto, were informed early on Sunday morning that Fernando's injuries were not life-threatening, and that he should make a full recovery. The news was met with sighs of relief and thanks to God in whispered Spanish. However, that didn't mean he was out of the woods, quite the contrary. In addition to the ankle fracture that required surgery to stabilize, Fernando had suffered a grade-three concussion, which meant the end of the season for him and, in a way, for Charlie as well.

— He's going to be very upset — Luis muttered, putting one hand in his pocket, something everyone there agreed on. Fernando hated missing a free practice, much less a race. Breaking the news to him would be difficult, but that was a matter to be discussed with him awake.

That is, when he woke up.

After Fernando had surgery and was transferred to a room, his doctors expected him to wake up after the anesthesia wore off, but that did not happen. A neurologist brought in for a consult examined Fernando and determined that he was experiencing an expected reaction from his body, considering that he had already had other concussions of varying grades. A neurological exam with an EEG showed that his brain activity was normal, and he was just in what was functionally a very deep sleep, but that didn't make the wait any easier.

Looking at the hands on the wall clock only made Charlie feel more anxious. The feeling of helplessness in the face of the situation was overwhelming inside her chest and there was nothing she could do but take quick naps and sip cups of coffee that seemed completely tasteless.

Luis, Edo, and Alberto offered to take turns, to allow everyone a few hours off from keeping vigil at Fernando’s bedside, but Charlie declined. Something inside her told her that she would feel better if she went to the hotel to take a shower, eat a real meal and sleep in an actual bed, but doing so would mean leaving the man she loved alone. What if he woke up and she wasn’t there? She wasn't capable of that, not when she'd made that mistake before.

He needed her and Charlie was determined to stay there as long as she had to, even if she had to fight her own body. But with the arrival of another night, she was starting to lose the fight. With her head resting against her hand and her eyes closed, she was dozing lightly, the sound of the equipment monitoring Fernando's vital signs lulling her into a light sleep.

— Charlie? — a whisper made her shift in her chair. It was definitely some sort of auditory hallucination, she thought, because of how tired she was.

However, hearing the whisper a second time, Charlie was sure someone was calling her. Opening her eyes, she found Fernando with his eyes half closed, watching her. Running a hand over her face, she couldn't believe it.

— Fer — Charlie replied, jumping to her feet, her eyes filling with tears — It's me, I'm here.

— Where am I? — he asked.

— You're in the hospital — she said, wiping a hand over the tear that had trickled down her cheek. Charlie couldn't believe he was finally awake.

— In Vegas?

— Yes, we're still in Las Vegas.

He lifted his hand slowly towards hers, which was resting on the cold bed rail. Feeling his fingers land over hers, Charlie let go of the plastic and took his hand.

— What happened? Did I crash?

— Yes. You touched Pierre at the second chicane and flipped your car on the first lap.

He looked away, trying to move his body. After confirming that the hands and arms were fine, he tried moving his feet, first the left and then the right. Realizing he couldn't move his right foot, he lifted the blanket, staring at the soft cast that immobilized part of his leg.

— You've broken your ankle, they had to do surgery — Charlie said — The accelerator pedal broke in the crash, all of the force must have gone into your foot, so they have it immobilized. Oh, and you had a concussion too, but no other serious head injuries. I mean, aside from the fact you’ve been unconscious for two days, but… 

— Two days? — he asked, looking shocked.

— Yes, two days. It's Monday evening.

He pressed his lips together, staring at the logo on her clothing. Looking down, Charlie felt a little self-conscious about wearing the same uniform since Saturday night, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered when he was there, in front of her, alive.

— Didn't you go back to the hotel?

— No. I've been here since Saturday night. I arrived a little after you, actually.

— Charlie...

— I couldn't go back, Fer — she whispered, her thumb stroking his skin — I couldn't leave you here alone.

— But what about Alberto? And Edo, and Luis? Did they go home?

— No, the three of them are at the hotel, waiting for you to wake up to come see you. They’ve been in and out, they all left a little while ago…

Fernando was silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on their intertwined hands.

— Why did you stay?

— Because you needed me...

— Charlie — he said, cutting her off — Tell me the truth.

— But — she stammered, her heart pounding in her chest.

— I opened my heart to you and you ran away from me — Fernando snapped, dryly — Now you're here, by my side, holding my hand...

— Do you want me to let go of your hand?

— I want you to be honest with me.

Charlie felt a lump rise in her throat. Why did it have to be so difficult?

— Fer...

He looked up at her seriously.

— If, after everything we've been through together, you can't tell me how you feel, I think you better let go of my hand and leave.

— I wouldn't go even if you wanted me to.

— Yes, you would.

— Of course not — Charlie snapped.

— Why not? You did before…

— Because I love you! — she exclaimed. The volume of her voice made Fernando flinch, before Charlie remembered what the doctor had said about concussions causing visual and auditory sensitivity. Then she continued in a lower voice — I love you, Fer.

Fernando stared at her, seeming to process the words.

— I just didn't tell you before because I — Charlie hesitated for a few seconds — I was scared. I thought what we had was something casual, but I only told myself that because I was so afraid of how deep my feelings for you had gotten, and when you told me you loved me, I panicked. You had finally given the right name to the crushing feeling I feel in my chest every time I'm with you. It is not joy, it is not peace, it is not passion. It's love. It's simply love. And even still, it scares me.

Looking down at their hands, more tears filled her eyes.

— Does love scare you? — he asked.

— My love for you scares me. In fact, all the feelings you can provoke in me scare me. You've already made me feel so much that I didn't allow myself before — she stopped for a few seconds — My life is intertwined with yours in a way that I can't explain. And it's this lack of an explanation for my logical brain that makes it all scary.

— Love doesn't have to be logical — Fernando murmured.

— I found that out sitting in that armchair, waiting for you to wake up. It makes no sense for me to love someone I hated so deeply, but at the same time, it makes the most complete sense when you are the person who understands me, even though I am the mess of a person I am. What I feel for you is love. It has no logic or limit. And I just hope you accept mine the same way I accept yours.

He let go of her hand suddenly, which made Charlie's stomach sink. After some silence, she decided that was her last shot with him.

— I don’t know if you remember but in Montreal, in 2015, I ran out of the motorhome after the debrief and hid between the paddock buildings to cry — she whispered — I was mad at you, so mad. And Lewis just happened to find me there, sobbing. We talked about what happened and he gave me some valuable advice that day.

— What did he say? 

— He told me not to let you into my head — she replied, seeing his pursed lips — But today, I realized he didn't say anything about my heart. And you entered mine.

Fernando gave a small smile.

— He's an asshole.

— He said the same about you.

— Oh, he did? Good to know…

The two looked at each other for a few seconds in silence.

— Well… — Charlie said.

— What?

— It’s just as simple as that, I suppose, that I love you, and that I hope you still love me, too — she whispered.

— I never stopped loving you, Charlotte — Fernando replied, placing his hand on her face — Not even for a second. And you don't have to be afraid of anything. I will take care of your heart with all the love it deserves.

With her chest filling with warm sensation, Charlie leaned over the bed rail, placing a soft, tear-tasting kiss on his lips. The relief of having him alive and well mingled with the happiness of loving and being loved despite being far from perfect. She was finally safe.

After a few more delicate kisses and Fernando asking other questions about the race, Charlie took it upon herself to call the doctor who was taking care of him to take a look at him. Then, she called Edo, letting him know that his brother-in-law was conscious and oriented, news that he received with great joy.

— I'll let everyone around here know he's awake — he said — His mother will be so relieved, Lore told me she wasn't sleeping well with worry.

— I can imagine — Charlie replied, watching Fernando as a nurse took his blood pressure.

— Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can come over and sit with Fer so you can rest.

Charlie bit her lip. She was completely exhausted, but she didn't want to leave Fernando behind. It wasn't as if he wasn't getting the best treatment, much less that he was incapacitated in any way, but she took it as an obligation. However, the last thing Charlie wanted was to suffocate Fernando, even more so in this situation.

— I'll talk to him and let you know, okay?

— Yeah, no problem — he said — Give him a hug from me and tell him I'll see him tomorrow morning at the latest.

After hanging up the phone, Charlie approached the bed again. Looking at her, Fernando had a small smile on his lips.

— Edo?

— Yeah. He said he's coming to see you tomorrow morning.

— Is he coming with you when you come back?

She blinked.

— Well, I thought I'd stay here one more night.

— Why?

— So I can take care of you.

The driver laughed.

— Charlie, I'm in a hospital. There's no shortage of people here to take care of me.

— But they're not me.

— True, they aren’t, but — he said, bringing a hand to her face — But it's no use trying to take care of me if you're not taking care of yourself.

— I'm fine — Charlie snapped — I can stay awake a lot longer. In fact, I had many nights like this in university.

— You were 20 years old then, you could get away with it — Fernando said, his thumb stroking her cheek — Now, you need to listen to your body and rest. I’ll be fine, I promise.

His concern made something warm inside her chest. "Love, this is love", Charlie thought to herself, smiling.

— Okay, I'm going to the hotel — she relented — But I'll be back tomorrow morning, very early, okay, my love?

Fernando smiled.

— Perfect, mi amor.

After a few goodbye kisses and a good-natured joke about how handsome he looked with a fuller beard, Charlie finally left his room, making her way to the hospital lobby practically floating. It was as if she were in a romance book, in which the protagonists were finally living their “happily ever after”.

Well, until she looked outside the hospital.

In front of the building, what seemed to be more than a dozen cameras were pointed at the entrance door, along with a good number of journalists and photographers. It was clear that there would be people there, waiting for anyone who could give more information about Fernando. And, considering she was in the team uniform, she was the perfect person for it.

— Miss, do you need help? — a man wearing a white coat and surgical scrubs asked. She explained the situation, and the man took her to an exit leading to the staff parking lot, which was free of reporters. 

“An angel”, Charlie thought, as she made her way back to The Signature in an Uber, ducking slightly so reporters wouldn't see her leaving the building. The entire drive there was a big blur, as was the arrival at the suite. After taking a shower and calling in-room dining service to order something to eat, she allowed herself a moment of contemplation, looking up at the ceiling.

Fernando was fine, he was alive. And most of all, he still loved her. He had never stopped loving her, not for a second, not even when she feared her own feelings for him. And being loved by that man was a sublime feeling, better than anything Charlie had ever felt in her life.

There was so much more than just sexual chemistry between the two, but something much stronger and deeper. What they had was something that even the word she was most afraid to use to describe it — love — seemed inadequate. Fernando didn't complete her, because Charlie was sure she was a complete person without him, but he complemented her. He brought out the best in her and that was...

— Fuck, Charlie — she muttered to herself, wiping the tears that had trickled from her eyes. However, unlike the last few days, these were tears of joy.

She was happy.

Finally happy.

The next morning, Charlie was back at the hospital, feeling much better than she had the day before. “He was right”, she thought, as she walked past the reporters in silence, lowering her Brighton cap a bit. After checking in at the reception desk and getting a visitor’s badge, she went up to Fernando's room, wondering if he’d gotten some more sleep, if he was awake, if he’d been able to eat, and if he was in any pain.

Knocking softly on the door of room 249, the answer came in his expression, which looked much more rested. Not only that, he looked happy.

— Good morning, everyone — Charlie said, greeting Edo, Luis and Alberto who had arrived there earlier, before approaching the bed slowly — Good morning, Fer.

— Good morning, nena — he replied, stretching out his hand toward her — Did you get some rest?

— Yes — she said, giving his hand a light squeeze before releasing it. The reaction made the driver raise an eyebrow at her — What?

— Aren’t you forgetting something?

She looked down at herself, trying to imagine what she could have left at the hotel that she hadn't noticed, but Fernando had.

— No, I have everything here.

— What about my kiss? — he asked, giving her the puppy-eyed look that made her give in to his every request, even the most absurd of them.

— Fer — Charlie said through clenched teeth, feeling her cheeks heat up.

— Come on, it's not like they don't know we've been together for over six months — Fernando said, looking at the three men beside him.

— You haven’t exactly been discreet — Alberto said, crossing his arms, with Luis nodding beside him.

— Especially with the hickeys — Edo added, smirking — You've already done quite a bit of damage to his neck, Charlie.

Charlie felt a little embarrassed about that. As much as she wanted to be discreet, it was hard not to want to kiss and bite the skin on Fernando's neck. When she saw it, there was already a purple mark nestled in the space between the muscle and his collarbone. Luckily they were always hidden under the green shirts and racing overalls.

— So where's my kiss?

— It's here — Charlie relented, giving him a delicate peck — How was your night?

— Good. I ate, slept, and talked to the doctor. He updated me on everything that happened to me and recovery times. He said that the average is eight weeks, but I think Edo and I will be able to reduce it to six.

— Fernando, you can't control the speed at which your bones heal — she said seriously.

— But I can and will help them along. Edo and I will talk to Lore tomorrow, when I'm home, to see what supplementation I can take...

— Home? Are you going to be discharged?

— Yes, the doctor said he's releasing me tonight — Fernando replied.

— And are you going to Lugano?

— No, Oviedo. My mother is going to break my other ankle if I don't go home for a bit after this one. Besides, it'll be nice to be around my family for a few weeks, I haven't seen them all together since Barcelona, so...

Charlie smiled, running an affectionate hand through his hair.

— Love is always the best medicine, my grandmother always says — she said, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

— So can I get the jet ready for the five of us, Fer? — Alberto asked.

— Five? — Charlie asked, looking at him and then at Fernando.

— Yes. We’re all going to Oviedo — the driver replied, stroking her hand.

— But, am I going with you?

— Of course, Charlie — he said, before he saw the doubt in her eyes — Well, if you want to.

She pressed her lips together, feeling a little confused. Although she wanted to stay with Fernando and support him through his recovery, Charlie felt like she was going too fast and too far. Being at his house was one thing, but being with his family was something else entirely. It was like taking a step bigger than her leg.

— It's like your grandmother says, love is the best medicine — Fernando said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the fingers, eyes fixed on her — And I'm going to need some doses of yours, mi cielo.

“How am I supposed to say no?”, she thought to herself.

— Okay, my love. I'll go with you.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Anonymous asked: I'm writing a story where the villain grows close to the main character/his current target. All the other characters are between trusting and finding something off about him cause they trust the main character who sees nothing wrong. Do you have any advice about how I can make the villain come off as subtly creepy without tipping off the main character and about how I can reveal how horrifying he's supposed to be later? When I think of his true intentions reveal it's not really scary or momentous and I want to create a sense of dread but I'm not sure how to do that.

[Ask edited for content and length]

As far as subtlety in making the villain come off creepy, I think it's all about finding things that appear creepy outside of a particular context. For example, imagine one of the friends pulls up to the MC's house and sees the villain standing in front of her window, peering in. Super creepy! Of course the friend will tell the MC about this, and the MC will probably say, "I'm sure there was a good reason..." and when they mention it to the villain later, the villain says, "Oh! I was walking by and I saw an unusual caterpillar crawling up the inside of the window frame." Now the thing that looked so creepy has a believable explanation. However, it's not so reasonable that it couldn't still be an excuse... It provides just enough wiggle room for it to go either way. And you can have some fun playing with the reader's expectations, too, because maybe a few days later, the villain pulls out their phone and shows the MC and the friends pictures of the unusual caterpillar. Now anyone who doubted the villain feels silly, but it doesn't mean they weren't peeping through the character's window. You could even have a time when the same friend (or maybe a different one who knows about the "caterpillar incident") shows up and sees the villain peeping through the window again. They say, "Another unusual caterpillar?" (their tone laced with suspicion), and the villain chuckles nervously and says, "No, ants this time. I need to let MC know they've got a little infestation." For anyone with a healthy skepticism, that's going to be too much... the caterpillar you can begrudgingly dismiss, but now... ants??? But, you can see how easy it would be for the MC to dismiss it because they trust this person. They will see no reason not to believe they were looking at ants this time. Especially if the villain elaborates... "I noticed a trail of ants when I was looking at the caterpillar last week, so walking by today, I thought I'd see if they were still there and let you know if they were." Sounds plausible enough to the MC, but the friend won't be so sure.

And, obviously I'm not suggesting you use this particular scenario, but hopefully you can see how you can use plausible deniability to make the trusting MC believe the villain where the friends (and potentially the reader) see that there's more going on.

As far as revealing the extent of the horror later, I think you'll want to use the rising suspicions and fears of the friends to create that build-up of dread, and then when the MC realizes (if that's part of the reveal), it's sort of like a domino effect where every single red flag their friends warned them about suddenly pop into their head as the red flag it always was rather than whatever plausible excuse they believed at the time.

Have fun with your story!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[drdemonprince]

Dear dr. Price,

A follower pointed out your book Unmasking Autism to me and said it was a life-saver. I have put in on my birthday wishes list.

According to lists on the net, I am supposed to reflect on whether I am behaving in a way that is aims at others' needs or my own and so on. This is precisely my problem. I am closer to 50 than to 40 and have probably been masking for over 40 years. How can I know what type of behaviour is learnt? What is ingrained? Is it possible that I have passed the window where I can still find natural conduct?

If you could see your way clear to answer my concern, I should be much obliged.

Kind regards,

Maarten

Hi Maarten!

Thank you so much for your question. While I understand deeply the desire to try and sort out which elements of yourself are naturally you and which elements are learned behaviors linked to a lifetime of trauma, in actuality there is no separating them. There is only one you. You have only lived one life, and it was the (at times very challenging and invalidating) life that you had. Humans are social beings, it almost makes as little sense to thing of humans in individual terms as it does to discuss ants without talking about colonies. Who we are is social, interpersonal, relational, and interactive.

The good news about that, however, is that who we are and how we feel can change, so long as our circumstances do. To some degree, masking and inhibition may always feel natural to you. I've been utterly fixated on unmasking both personally and professionally for years now, and while I've opened up a lot and learned many communication skills, my default mode of operating is still always to clench up. I will probably carry that reflex inside me for all of my life. That reflex has helped me. That reflex has saved me a great many times. It's just also hurt me and cost me a ton. And these days I try to accept all of that, and accept myself as the mutable, fragile, self-protective, sensitive being that I am.

I think it is far easier to focus on small behaviors and desires (and not-desires) than it is to worry too much about who we "really are" who we "would have been" in a completely alternate reality where we hadn't suffered the experiences that we have. Thinking about a fully liberated and unfiltered alternate self is enticing, I fantasize about who I'd have been in a better world all the time, but that person does not exist, and never did, and never ever would have.

Neurotypical are harmed by neuro-conformity pressures too. Capitalism, white supremacy, and the gender binary restrict how all people behave today pretty severely. Nobody lives fully free right now. This might sound bleak, but it's also a fact that unites us, and thinking about it gives me some hope. It helps me realize that I'm not uniquely boxed inside myself and separated from other people -- I'm suffering from the exact same forces that all people do, just in my own way.

I'm not uniquely broken. Neither are you. But we are irrevocably shaped by our life experiences. Instead of trying to change who we are, or find some inner true self, which is a daunting task, I think that instead, we can just practice saying no to things that make us uncomfortable, asking for the changes to our environment that we do need in order to feel comfortable, sharing what we feel, and taking time regularly to take stock of our lives and figure out what it is that we want and we wish for. It starts small.

Little phrases like "I don't like that," "I don't feel good," "I'm not interested in talking about that," "I'm going to go do something else," "Here's what i believe," "I don't agree with you," "I really need [thing]," and "I want to build a life with more room for [thing] in it" are some places to start. Truly, the more you get in the practice of saying such things, the better you get at noticing how you are feeling, and the more feelings and wants and not-wants you become able to self advocate for. It's not about becoming a new person, or throwing off the mask in one go. It's a skill, and anyone can develop a skill. You might as well make the rest of your life better. No amount of suffering in the past condemns you to needing to feel shitty about your desires forever.

[symbioticsimplicity]

Four Guys Walk Into A Bar pt 4

I let Eddie drive, this is what happened.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 A03 link

                                                               *

“You ever wonder if ants have feelings?” Eddie asked the ceiling, his voice floaty and aloof the way it usually got when he was toasted, “Like is it possible to compress the shit that makes feelings down that much?”

“Can’t say I have.” Billy passed Eddie the cigarette they’d been sharing, the reach made easier by Eddie’s positioning with his head on Billy’s stomach.

“You think about ants often, Munson?” The words were probably meant to be mocking, but the liquor had softened Tommy's tone. His freckled cheek was pressed against Steve’s shoulder, making the words all the more muffled and soft.

That was something that had started about an hour ago, all of them bleeding into one another. First Eddie had thrown his legs over Steve’s lap. Then Tommy, never one to be shown up, let himself lean into Steve’s side. Billy had laid down beside Eddie, and Eddie hadn’t hesitated to cuddle up to him. The blonde had looked like he was staring down a bear, but he hadn’t told Eddie to move. Which naturally meant Steve could sprawl his legs out over Billy’s. 

He hadn’t argued that either.

Now they were all more or less a puddle of limbs in the middle of the floor. 

It was comforting, though, in a way Steve hadn’t realized he desperately needed. It had been years since he’d felt anything approaching safe. Even before the Upside-Down craziness started, when he was afraid there was rarely anyone around to turn to about it. Whether it was because he was actually alone, or just for fear of being mocked. Steve kept to himself, and he hadn’t allowed himself to think about whether or not he wanted things to be that way.

Now, surrounded by warmth and pressure, and the sheer certainty that he wasn’t alone, he found he never wanted it any other way again.

Eddie yawned, catching Steve’s attention. Christ, even his yawns were loud and dramatic.

“Not usually. Not any more than I think about birds or dogs or whatever. Just sometimes, when shit gets really wild like this, it makes me wonder, ya know?”

“Almost getting killed by interdimensional monsters makes you wonder if ants have feelings?” Steve tugged at the loose fibers at the bottom of Eddie’s jeans.

He sighed, then groaned, then sighed again, “Not-- there was a process. I was thinking about everything going on, and then I started to wonder what we even look like to those things. Do they know what people are? Made me think about us just being formless blobs, but that didn’t feel right so I pictured ants instead. Cause nobody ever really thinks about ants when they kill them, which is kind of fucked up, when you’re imagining yourself as an ant, you know? Then I started thinking about if an ant would really think that? Like do they care? Do they have feelings? Is killing them worse if they do, or sadder if they don’t?”

“Oh my God,” Tommy whispered, and for a moment Steve was surprised to hear him sound concerned before, “Do you always think that much, holy shit dude.”

Eddie lifted one of his feet off of Steve to smack at Tommy lightly with it, “Do you always get so surprised by the human capacity for thought and introspection? I know you’ve probably never done it, but it’s pretty normal.”

“Nothing about that was normal.” Billy replied, snagging the ass end of their shared cigarette from the corner of Eddie’s mouth where it had burnt down during his little rant.

Eddie arched his back to look up at Billy, though it had the unfortunate side effect of digging his heel into Steve’s stomach. Steve groaned, lifting his foot before it could dig into his scarring, consequently not immediately noticing the stares aimed his way.

“What?” Steve glanced from Billy to Eddie to Tommy and back again.

“What do you mean what?” Billy glared, his cheeks dyed pink again.

“Ah, Steve Whorington makes his mighty return.” Tommy grinned maliciously.

“Not for nothing, but he’s right, that was about the sluttiest sound I’ve heard outside of an actual porno.” Eddie’s voice sounded the same as it usually did but his face was as flushed as Billy’s.

“That was a pain noise!” Steve objected, feeling his own face go hot, “Your foot was in my large intestine!” 

Eddie bit both of his lips and pulled them into his mouth, trying so hard not to say something that Steve could feel him vibrate with the urge.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Eddie chirped, a grin cutting across his face.

“Sounded like his dick was in your large intestine.” Tommy said instead, foolishly for how close he was sitting to Steve.

Steve smacked him, harder than he probably would have usually for the cavalcade of images that had now flooded his brain. 

“Ow!” Tommy whined, “What, hit too close to home, Stevie?”

Steve knew that if he looked over at Tommy, he’d be giving him that look. The one where he made his eyes look as big as possible since he knew how easily that got Steve, the one where he looked like he couldn’t possibly do a thing wrong. It was one of Steve’s favorite and least favorite expressions on him all at once. He was evil.

“You’re an asshole.” Steve glared. 

“That wasn’t a no.” Billy pointed out, helpfully, “You into Munson?”

Steve suddenly wished fervently for another earthquake to open up a crack directly beneath him.

Eddie for his part hadn’t said a word, he was just watching Steve the same way he’d watched Tommy earlier. Those big, dark eyes of his made Steve feel like he was falling upward into the night sky. Like he was weightless even while being crushed, like he could float there forever even if he didn’t survive the experience. 

“I’ve got eyes, don’t I?” Steve tossed an arm over his eyes, half to hide the blush burning across his cheeks and half to hide from Eddie’s stare. 

The softest gasp met his ears, making nausea crest in his stomach. Goddamn it, of all the ways to drop this…

“He is kind of cute, I guess, under all the layers of weirdo.” Tommy said appraisingly, snapping the room’s attention to him next, “Oh, were we just supposed to keep trying to act like everyone in this room hasn’t thought about screwing everyone else?”

“I--” Billy started.

“Oh no, don’t you even try to bullshit me, Hargrove. I might be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.” Tommy kept on, “I know you have a thing for Steve, and you’ve been acting the same way with Munson all day.” 

Billy scoffed, “Acting like what? I haven’t been acting like anything.”

Tommy only raised his eyebrows at him.

“I haven’t!”

“We could test it.” Eddie shrugged, “Tommy’s little hypothesis.”

“Test it?” Billy squinted, “How?”

Steve was sure he already knew where this was going, but he found the idea of stopping it for once was the least appealing option. Sometimes he was drawn to the fire just as much as the rest of them, sue him.

“I could kiss you.” Eddie’s voice was calm, soft, and filled to the brim with something fragile, like hope but thinner. 

Billy tensed up, “The hell makes you think I’d want that?”

Eddie’s expression changed on a dime, irritation rolling in like a storm cloud. 

“For fucks sake, Hargrove, ain’t nobody here for you to posture up to.” Eddie twanged the way he did when he was too annoyed to hold it in, “Not like we’re gonna tell anybody about all this. Right guys?”

Eddie fixed his intense stare on both Steve and Tommy.

“Why in the fuck would I tell anyone about this?” Tommy scoffed, “Hello, conservative parents and Christian college football scholarship?”

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want anyone to know.” Steve shrugged, “I mean, we’re probably all gonna die tomorrow anyway.” 

“No we ain’t.”

“Fat fucking chance.”

“I’m not dying at twenty-one, I didn’t quit railing coke on the weekends just to die young anyway.”

“Okay, alright sure. We’re not gonna die tomorrow.” Steve conceded, “That means we’ll have that ‘fought and almost died together’ brotherhood thingy Grandpa talked about with his war buddies. That’s gotta mean we can kiss without making it weird or whatever.”

“He makes a sound case.” Eddie said, thoughtfully stroking his chin, “What say you, Sir Hargrove?”

“That’s worse than ‘Sunshine.” Billy muttered, his deep blue eyes finally falling on them, on Steve in particular much to his heart’s detriment, “I think they should do it first.”

“Who’s they, Sunshine? Me and one of those two or those two and…those two?”

“Those two.”

“Ah, want me all to yourself, do ya~?” Eddie grinned.

“I-- shut up, Munson.” Billy squeezed his eyes shut, almost as though praying for patience.

“Why don’tcha make me, baby boy~?”

Steve could see the exact moment Billy’s patience ran out. And in all honesty he didn’t blame him, if anything he was surprised he’d survived this long. Eddie could be annoying when he didn’t actively want something, but with an agenda? He could be just as relentless as Nancy if he felt like it.

The blonde moved much faster than a regular human could have, fast enough that Steve lost track of his arms for a moment. He hauled Eddie up his body-avoiding knocking his feet against Steve’s crotch by the grace of God-like he weighed exactly nothing, before crushing their lips together.

Steve watched for a moment before glancing away to give them at least the illusion of privacy. 

Unfortunately looking away meant meeting Tommy’s eyes, Tommy who was giving him that look.

“Want some of what they’re having?” And if Steve hadn’t been trapped in the gaps between his eyelashes, he might have laughed at the lame line, “Been a while.”

It had been. Years, in fact, since he’d kissed Tommy. Before either of them had gotten girlfriends they used to “practice” on one another, for hours. If Steve was honest, he had loved passing the time that way.

“What about Carol?” Steve asked, only just now remembering his former best friend’s long time girlfriend. 

His eyes tightened around the edges, mouth drawing into a thin line, “We broke up last June. She went off to France to study, and I went to Indiana State.” 

Steve winced in sympathy, “Know how that feels. Me and Nance… we didn’t make it long.”

Tommy nodded, “Yeah, saw the ass end of that. Looked rough.”

“Was.” Steve nodded, watching the way the words formed on Tommy’s lips, “Took a while but I got over it.”

“Have any help with that?” He glanced over at Eddie and Billy where the former was currently kissing the latter half way into the ground.

“A little.” Steve smiled, remembering how goddamn flabbergasted he was to find being around Billy Hargrove of all people made him feel… calmer. And then Eddie had strolled in and lit up his world like he’d been born with an instruction manual just for that.

“You’re not jealous?” Tommy tilted his head towards him, “I’m kinda jealous.”

“Not really?” Steve’s eyes traced up Eddie’s jaw and over to Billy’s, “I probably should be. But it’s-- this makes sense to me? The other way around never really did, I guess. Why have one person when you could all have more?”

Billy’s hand slid into Eddie’s hair and pulled, causing the other metalhead to pull away with a whine that made Steve’s stomach swoop with arousal.

“I like more.”

“More.” Tommy echoed, his tone catching Steve’s attention again, “I’ve always been a greedy bastard.”

The next thing he knew Tommy’s lips were finding his. 

Kissing Tommy was familiar, like coming back to a childhood home after years of having lived on his own. His hands went right where Steve knew they would, and his own followed suit. The rhythm they found was the same they’d decided on years ago, and the comfort of the routine soothed Steve bone deep. 

It had been months since he’d kissed someone, fuck he’d missed it.

More than that though, he’d needed the emotional bit, he thought. He’d been running at a dead sprint, ignoring every single thing that could hurt him or slow him down for years now. He hadn’t known where the hell to break down at, even if he’d wanted to. Who could he lean on who wasn’t already carrying the sky along with him? 

The familiarity and the softness broke him apart with such care he didn’t even realize he was crying until Tommy pulled back. 

“That bad?” He teased softly, an echo of what he’d said the first time they’d kissed.

Steve laughed, wet and a little hysterical, “Not you. Just. Fuck, I needed that.”

Tommy surprised him yet again by pulling him into a hug. 

“You haven’t freaked out this whole time, duh you needed something to wake your ass up.” Tommy murmured, “Experience or not, this is some crazy shit. You haven’t even batted a fuckin’ eye Steve. I’ve seen you get upset about cubed cheese.” 

“It’s just better that way.” Steve muttered, “Slices are harder to make even.”

“Fuckin’ weirdo.” The affection in his tone kept the insult light, stingless, “But seriously, when was the last time you let yourself lose it?”

“Uh…” There was no way to lie around this one that wouldn’t get him caught, Tommy knew all of his tells, god he was just as bad as Robin about calling him out on his bullshit, why had he missed him?

“That alone is a good enough answer.” Tommy’s hand rested against the back of Steve’s neck, beginning to kneed at the muscles there, “This shirt is a lost cause, don’t let its death be in vain, feel free to cry all over it.”

Maybe it was the absurdity of it all, maybe it was the still swelling emotions in his chest, or maybe it was the relief of having someone offer him a safe place to drop his worries and responsibilities for a moment. Hell, maybe it was all of them.

But Steve tucked himself up against Tommy’s neck and shoulder and let himself cry. 

He’d never been a loud crier, preferred people not to notice he was doing it at all if he couldn’t stop himself. The only sound he made were the occasional sniff or hitched breath. 

Once the tears had stopped coming and his mind was stuffed full of numb-tingly cotton, Steve had adjusted so he wasn’t laying so awkwardly with Tommy. He noticed Billy in a position not too different from his own, his cheeks similarly damp. 

Like Tommy, Eddie was rubbing his back, stroking through his hair almost absently. As if giving affection the way he did was just second nature and not a goddamn miracle to people like Steve, people like Billy.

“If we do die tomorrow,” Billy’s voice wound quietly between the four of them, “Glad this happened first.”

"Me too." Tommy agreed, turning his head Billy's way, "Oh and Hargrove?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever fucking lie to me again."

Tagging: @thelemonbandit @ihni @love-kurdt @thediktatortot @ghostlyjax

[benevolentcalamity]

In Her Eyes [Makima x Female!Reader]

Disclaimer: I have not watched an episode of Chainsaw Man before writing this. I do plan to sit down and watch it, but I do know enough to have a grasp on Makima and some other characters. (Why does Aki's English voice sound like a Lifetime heartthrob divorce attorney)

CURTAINS!

Nobody in your life had dared to call you passive. You, a woman just making it in a world where the war against the devils can - and will - risk you being collateral damage. Bouncing around job after job as a direct consequence of the strife, the only reason you've even managed to go on is seeing the Public Safety Devil Hunters cleaning up the mess. The Gun Devil's certainly created quite a mess...

Not to say that this conflict hasn't directly affected you as well, not just in terms of your home being destroyed in crossfire. Your family scattered like ants trying to get out of this place, effectively leaving you to face the music. The irony is most saddening there, considering you're alive and... Well, that song and dance is an everyday one anymore.

Well, all that's passed over and now you're here, free of your bra and pants after a hard day at work. To be specific about the job you work now, you're a mechanic that mostly works with cars. Considering you work in the same city as the Public Safety HQ, your boss had recently decided to train all of you in how to assemble/clean guns as well.

Who knew that today would be the day you got to experience an RPG cannon? And who knew that they were an absolute bitch to clean?

I guess I'd rather work kill me than anything else... You huff.

Eventually your legs fly up, and you 'catapult' yourself onto your feet. That's quite enough of that - you have to get yourself something to eat. If you don't, you'll go to bed hating yourself, which you do not need help with these days.

So you assemble a pot, some vegetables, some meat you had in the fridge... Maybe some bomb beef udon? Getting the pot on the stove, you reach for the dial-

ding-dong!

SHIT!

Flying into a panic - you're never keen on greeting people in your underwear - you run around your apartment, eventually saying 'fuck it' and ditching your dirty clothes for a nice shirt and dress pants. A second ding-dong on the door has you shifting into a full sprint, and you wash your face of excess filth and straighten out your hair.

"Coming!" You call, and you're at the door in record time. Taking a deep breath and making last minute adjustments you grab it, composing yourself and opening it prepared to make a million apologies.

Standing there, without the faintest annoyance on her face, is a woman, slender and elegant. Bright pink hair is put up in a bun, some strands framing her face like a delicate portrait. Her lips are shining with recently applied balm, and her faint aroma of paper and perfume reaches your nostrils in a blink.

But it's her eyes that captivate you most. They're a deep, almost glowing amberish-orange, an odd but not unordinary pattern dancing about her pupils. In the time it takes your gazes to meet, she's already torn right into your insides, probing them with just her gentle yet intense stare.

It's like this for a moment, you standing frozen in your doorway, her seeming to just stare straight into your soul and back again, and then you register her head slanting to the side along a crease of her brow, and that's where you realize she just asked you a question.

Blinking out of your stupor, you bow in apology, swallowing. "Please excuse me, ma'am, it's been a long day at work and I'm tired. Can you please repeat that?"

Her head straightens, and again she doesn't look the least bit bothered. "Is this [Name] [Last Name]'s residence?" She asks. She sounds so melodic...

"I am she," You reply with a nod. "Who are you?"

Her lips curve into a perfect smile. "My name is Makima, and I am with the Public Safety Devil Hunters. Do you have time to talk?"

Oh, shit! "Yes, of course. Please, come inside." You stand aside, and she does, taking off her shoes and stepping in. Closing the door behind her, you lead her further inside. "Please, sit down. I'm just in the process of making something to eat. Can I offer you any, or make you some coffee?" The general rules of hospitality are not lost on you, and she doesn't look at all put out or annoyed at your house not being clean. "I'm sorry, by the way, I wasn't expecting company."

"No, it's quite alright." She meets your eyes with that smile never fading. "A little disorganization never bothers me."

Relieved, you can't help but reflect her. "That's a relief. My job takes up a lot of my time."

She pouts in thought, tapping her index to her chin. "You're... one of the mechanics of Hishegawa, aren't you?"

You blink. "How did you know that?"

Not being able to help but chortle, she returns her expression to that smile. "Your work's popular among my group, you know. In fact, I've heard them ask for you specifically."

With your chest swelling with pride, your cheeks are dusted pink and the days exhaustion seems to fall right off your shoulders.

"I'm happy to hear that." You mean it. "I was starting to think that my work wasn't really that important."

"Well you certainly contribute a lot to the war, I should tell you." Makima takes a seat on the sofa, elegantly crossing her one leg. Everything she does seems so perfect... "But then there's your question. I've eaten, but if your coffee pot is going..."

You glance over at it. It's brewing. "Any cream or sugar?"

"No, just black is fine."

Now, something you didn't learn until your late father showed you, it is very safe to pull the pot out while the coffee's brewing. You just need to be mindful of putting it back in time lest it overflow. So you grab a sizable mug, fill it up, and bring it out, placing it in her awaiting hands.

"Thank you very much," She smiles, sipping it without even a wince. It is cold outside...

Sitting down nearby, you tilt your head. "Did you have business with me, Miss Makima?" you ask.

"Ah, yes, that." She sets the mug down and puts her hands in her lap, interlocking her fingers. "I hope you don't mind, but I did ask Hishegawa-san for your information." Ex-pardon me, what? "Nothing too invasive, however. Simply your resume and some background information - the sort of thing that pops up when you interview for something new." Oh. "From what I understand, you've been just about everywhere."

You sigh, head slumping a little. "I've had to learn and do so much training, only for it to go to waste when the devils would attack once more," You explain. "Hishegawa's is the longest job I've had, which might just be the universe giving me a break for once."

"What a shame." Her voice doesn't imply any sort of sarcasm or something like that... Rather, she's attentive, eyes not leaving you for even a moment. "And then you come home and even I can tell you're tired."

"Which proves I made a good choice, to be frank with you," You chuckle. "I'm not fit to fight devils, so I'm way better off just working with weaponry."

"On the contrary." Your brow arches as she scoots forward in her seat, uncrossing her legs. "The shifts are long and arduous, and you've adapted to them to where you can still function when you come home, correct?"

"Uh, yea." What is she getting at?

"And, you know how this sort of weaponry works to be able to clean it, right?"

"Mhm."

"So, say you do wind up being a combatant. You'd more specialize in long-ranged combat and artillery, which would be valuable even among those with contracts that can make up for what they're lacking." Her back straightens, and for a moment you're perfectly entranced. "And, the work we do is less arduous because we're not cleaning our weaponry all the time, and the paycheck, you could say, is an additional pace."

She looks right into your eyes, and for a moment there's a sensation like millions of tiny hands holding your head completely still.

"[Name]."

"Ah... Yes...?" Your voice grows faint, and she draws a bit closer.

"Join the Devil Hunters."

Your chest tightens, and for the briefest of moments almost imaginary, your very body stills. Something wraps around your heart, pulling it closer to her, almost, as though sensing your slow gravitation to her without even a physical beckon.

Is something wrong with me?

The room's gone completely silent. Even the TV, which is supposed to fill the void that pulls you into your own head, isn't making a peep. Right here, right now, it's just you, held in the allure of this strangely perfect, yet mysteriously ominous, woman. Her very presence is a spell, one even the most vigilant of ladies and gentlemen will find themselves enraptured in.

And for a moment, you wonder if she's even human.

"Your work will be much less tiring, and you'll surely be more satisfied in the day knowing that you'll have a job that won't be stolen from you by the war, and you'll have a bigger paycheck and more energy than you know what to do with. Surely, even, a boss that doesn't pick apart every little flaw is appealing on their own," She adds, voice a bit lower.

Oh... my... gosh...

She makes an almost satisfied hum, smiling, setting her empty mug of coffee aside, the sound pulling you from your stupor in enough time to register her scooping up your hand and placing a business card into it.

"Just think about it for a little bit, and in the meantime we'll be watching over you with great interest." She softly pats your shoulder, passing you by as though you're not making the most calmly disturbed expression a horror movie could never replicate. "And just let me know your answer using the number, or if you know someone that's interested in becoming one, give them a heads-up. But in the meantime..."

Just when she's at the door with her shoes on, she casts her head over her shoulder, her smile only growing.

"I look forward to hearing from you, Miss [Name]. Thank you very much for the coffee, it was delicious."

Your mouth opens and you reach for her, but by the time you've returned to your normal self she's gone.

Trembling, your eyes fall to the card in your one hand. It's a simple business card of the Public Safety Devil Hunters, with her picture on it as a face to refer to and a number, along with some other inquiries and the sort. It's perfectly legitimate, too, with an insignia of governmental approval.

The offer itself is appealing, but Makima's gaze... Refusal doesn't feel like an option, gently teased from your reach the moment she had met your eyes.

Will you abandon the course of your life for a new one, with more danger but possibly new doors of opportunity? A meaningful place to put your newfound knowledge, but a deep dive into the unknown?

You swallow.

Makima...

As though in a trance, you punch in the number as the water in the kitchen comes to a rolling boil.

[blindmagdalena]

❛ i realized what was the matter, what had always been the matter — i was deeply and incurably in love with her. ❜ 👉🏻👈🏻

Anonymous asked: Hi :D can i have a ❛ i’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me. i love you. ❜ with a pining homelander? :D AO3 Link. Familiarity and consistency feed a base need in all of us; stability. For Homelander, there are precious few things in his life that offer him any of the above. People come and go. It's the nature of the business. He's stopped paying attention to the PA's, interns and other worker ants that rotate in and out. Their faces blend together in a bland sea of normality and mediocrity. They're little more than cogs in the machine of his contrastingly extraordinary life.

Funny, then, that you should catch his attention amidst the buzz of it all.

It happens quite abruptly. He's just sat down before a brightly lit vanity, where it's your job to style his hair and makeup, as it has been for the last several months. You greet him good morning, as you do every time, but for whatever reason… He notices you today.

"Remind me, what's your name again?" Homelander asks, watching you draw a comb from your kit.

That catches you off guard. You stare at him for a moment before snapping to attention, smiling sheepishly as you introduce yourself. The name doesn't sound familiar to him. Had he never actually asked? Probably not. Why would he bother?

He hums. "You've been styling me for awhile," he notes, tone contemplative.

"Yes, sir. About eight months now," you say, using the comb to begin working product through his hair. You're fairly certain this is the most he's ever spoken to you in all that time.

To Homelander, that sounds like both a long while and yet no time at all. It's nothing in the grand scheme, but in terms of the people he sees consistently, that puts you in a shockingly small pool of individuals.

From that day forward, it's like you suddenly exist to him.

"Gooood morning," he greets you the next day, which comes as something of a surprise to you. He never initiates.

"Good morning to you, sir," you say with a smile that catches his eye.

You're actually quite pretty, he notices. Not exceptionally so, not like the celebrities and figures of social influence that someone like him brushes shoulders with on a daily basis, but... pretty nonetheless. He doesn't remember you being this pretty before, and speculates whether you've changed something about yourself. He cannot put his finger on what that may be, though.

Homelander waves his hand dismissively. "Please, Homelander is fine. You keep it awfully formal."

You laugh, pushing your fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter shut as you do. "I'm a creature of habit. Might take me a couple tries to adjust," you warn, covering his forehead with your palm as you spritz product into his hair. He likes that you never let any of that sticky crap get on his face. You always take care of him, taking all these little measures to ensure his comfort, even though he’s never complained. You seem to do it entirely out of reflex simply because you care enough to.

"Well, you've made it this far. You've got time to adjust," he says. Now that he's seen you, he doesn't care for the thought of you being gone.

More and more, he starts looking forward to the time he spends in the chair with you. What used to be a monotonous aspect of the celebrity side of his life has become a comforting ritual. The two of you chat easily, like old friends made new. He tells you about himself, vents to you about work and personal business alike, and in turn he learns about you, and the life you live beyond the time he spends with you. It’s nothing extraordinary, not like his, but it's yours.

The more he grasps that you are an entire person outside of the service you provide him, the more he wants to know. He doesn’t give a fuck about your elderly cat, but he does like the way your voice changes when you talk about it. His mind drifts when you tell him these little anecdotes, and he wonders what you tell the people in your life about him. He wonders if your tone changes when you do. Do you speak fondly of him?

Days turn to weeks, and weeks to months. Little by little, Homelander discerns small changes in himself. There’s a slight pep in his step these days. The sun feels a little warmer, the thrum of crowded events less irritating. His attitude towards interviews flips; even the ones he used to dread, he begins to anticipate. He knows you’ll have him looking and feeling his finest. When he has nothing on his schedule to be styled for, he sulks.

On those days, he misses your laugh. He makes sure the products he keeps at home are the same as the ones you use. The smell of them reminds him of the smell of you, of your knock-off Dior perfume that fades too quickly after you apply it, which makes it just perfect for his keen sense of smell. The subtlety of you, your sincerity and gentleness, have become a boon against the corporate, unfeeling reality of his day to day life.

On the days he does see you, he begins to miss you before you’re even gone.

Now, as he walks to his next scheduled appointment with you, he’s painfully aware of the beat of his own heart. His stomach is twisting in on itself, though he isn’t hungry. If anything, he feels a little… nauseous. The closer he gets to the door, the louder the cacophony inside of him becomes. Is he sick? That shouldn’t be possible, but he can’t understand what’s happening to him.

Pausing just outside the door, Homelander takes in a steadying breath. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Collecting himself, he gives his face two quick pats on either side, shaking his head. Get it together , he tells himself, stepping into the dressing room. “Gooood morn–” Homelander cuts himself short, looking around the room. His brows pinch. He knows he isn’t early. Pursing his lips, he takes a brief stroll about the room, clutching his hands behind his back. He peers down the hallway, cutting through the layers of wall with his vision. No sign of you on the grounds yet. He clicks his tongue. You’ve never been late.

Unable to settle, Homelander paces for a while. He has the thought to call you, but he realizes he doesn’t have your number. Why doesn’t he have your number? It seems such a silly, obvious thing to have, despite the fact he’s never needed it. He’s just pulled out his cellphone to track it down from Ashley when the door suddenly opens, and his head snaps up. The initial relief he feels is cut sharply short, turning cold in his chest when the person who steps through the door is not you.

“Good morning!” The woman greets him, chirpy and fake, grating in Homelander’s ears. She’s not really happy to see him. She doesn’t know the first fucking thing about him. His leather gloves creak as he curls his hands into fists.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks, voice as measured as he can manage it. His anger comes in an unreasonable surge. This woman’s only crime is the fact she’s not you, and yet it’s enough to make him want to rip her head off her shoulders.

The woman hesitates in the doorway, her friendly demeanor flipped immediately to a fearful one. “Uhm, my name is Lisa, I’m supposed to style you to–”

“Where is my stylist?” Homelander interrupts her, stepping close, prowling towards her like a hungry predator. He says again, louder this time, voice full of anger and anxiety in equal measure, “Where the fuck is my stylist?!”

“I– I don’t know!” Lisa yelps, stepping backwards from him. “I was called in as a last minute replacement! They said– they said there was an accident, or–”

Homelander pushes her roughly out of the doorway, blowing past her with a frustrated growl. She hits the wall before crumpling to the floor like a sack of potatoes, but he doesn’t even register it. Why the fuck didn’t anyone think to tell him?

“Ashley!” He snarls into his phone the second she answers. “Tell me where the fuck my goddamn stylist is.” ~~~~~~

Homelander is at the hospital within minutes. The staff puts up a meager effort to enforce protocols, but he IS The Homelander, and they inevitably let him through.

You’re sitting with the hospital bed halfway reclined, wearing nothing but a hospital gown when he steps in. The vibrant reds and blues of his suit paint a sharp contrast to the stark white walls of the hospital room. You have a pudding cup in your hand, though you nearly drop it when you see him in the doorway. His hair is unstyled, splayed loose in every direction from his flight.

“H-Homelander,” you sputter, choking on your bite of pudding. You swallow, clearing your throat. He’s walking towards you. The closer he gets, the faster your heart beats. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” He asks, blowing off your question entirely. He blinks, and his vision flickers. He scans your body for internal damage, for broken or fractured bones. You’re not wearing a cast or anything, but he needs to be sure.

You nod, clutching at the blanket, wearing your confusion plainly on your face. “Yeah, I’m okay, it’s probably just mild whiplash, but I’m getting an x-ray to be–”

“You’re fine,” he breathes, more to himself than to you, though his relief is palpable. He can hear the flustered patter of your heart clearly. With the adrenaline wearing off, he’s beginning to feel that sickly familiar feeling that he had experienced in the hallway; butterflies rampant in his stomach, battering their wings frantically inside him. His jaw feels tight, his tongue too big for his mouth.

Staring at you now, frail and precious as you are in this ugly hospital bed, he realizes what’s the matter, what has always been the matter– he is deeply and incurably in love with you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking in his tortured expression, his wildly wind-swept hair. It would make you laugh if he didn’t look worried sick.

“No,” he says, the response knee-jerk. Even though the room is still, he feels as though the world is spinning around him. “No, I think… I think I’m in love with you,” he says, expression twisted up, like he’s figuring out each word as he says them.

Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches in your lungs. The bewildered confession utterly paralyzes you.

Homelander laughs. It sounds a little hysterical. “I’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me,” he says, reaching out to cup either side of your face in his gloved hands. “I love you,” he says, voice firmer now, the realization setting in fully. He looks a little delirious with it. He’s discovered a secret that he should have known all along, that seems so obvious in hindsight. Of course he loves you, because you love him .

The gentleness in your hands as you touched his face, the care in your fingers stroking through his hair far longer than both of you knew you needed to.You dedicated yourself like no other to showing him reverence in service, and is that not love in its purest form?

And yet, you don’t look to share his elation.

You feel like you’ve been struck by lightning, tingling all over with pure shock. You’re not sure if you’re lightheaded because of his words, or because you’ve forgotten how to breathe properly. Either way, you manage to suck in a shaky breath, blinking several times.

Homelander’s smile falters. “What’s the matter?” He asks, tone dropping slightly. “This is good news! Great, even.” For every second that you do not speak, the beat of his heart feels heavier in his chest. Why don’t you look happy?

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You lift your hands and grip his wrists, squeezing them through the thick fabric of his gloves to convince yourself that this is actually happening. Maybe the accident was worse than you thought, and you’re hallucinating. “I never… I never would have thought, or even dreamed, in a million years… You would love me back.”

Like a dying flame stoked back to life, Homelander’s demeanor reignites, his fading smile broadening once more. “I was worried when you were late,” he says, leaning closer to you. He’s near enough that you can smell the ozone lingering on his skin from the way he tore through the sky to reach you. He huffs a laugh that feels warm on your lips. “They sent in some idiot to fill in for you, like they could replace you that easily. I almost tore her head off,” he muses quietly.

Your brows furrow. “Wait, what?” He almost did what now?

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

You shiver with it, nodding minutely, eyes falling shut. “Please do.”

Homelander’s lips are unbelievably soft against yours. You can’t help but melt completely against him, relaxing fully into his grip. Maybe it’s the pain meds, but you feel like you’re flying. Your stomach is doing backflips while his lips move against yours, gentle and exploratory, learning the feel of you.

When the two of you break apart, you exhale, laughing breathlessly. You move your hands to touch his face. You’ve seen it countless times, been close enough to kiss it a dozen more, but the barrier of reality has always been a thick wall from it. You scarcely let yourself fantasize about it, let alone come anywhere close to acting on such thoughts.

Glancing up, you cannot help but laugh more earnestly at the wild splay of his hair. “And people wonder why I use so much gel,” you murmur, pushing both of your hands into his hair to smooth it down, cupping the back of his head. Homelander smiles so wide and boyishly, you can’t help but kiss him again.

“I’m not out of my mind on pain meds right now, right?” You ask quietly, the tip of your nose lightly pressed to his. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he purrs, kissing you gentler than you thought possible. “You’ll be seeing a whole lot more of me from now on.”

Maybe you’ll send flowers to the guy that rear-ended you this morning. You’re pretty sure he changed your life forever.

[afirewiel]

Loki, Sylvie, Sylki, and the Future of the MCU.

Firstly, as you may have heard, the MCU is reportedly scrapping the whole Kang storyline and replacing him with Dr. Doom. I have no doubt that this is in response to the domestic abuse allegations made against Jonathan Majors. The issue, however, is how are they going to write Kang out of the MCU? They spent years, both seasons of Loki, and Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania setting up a multiversal war with Kang's numerous variants. So how are they going to swap out Kang for Dr. Doom? They can't just pretend Kang never existed or was a threat. That would be absolutely terrible writing. The only thing I can think of is to have the Dr. Doom variants take out the Kang variants because they want to be the most powerful.

My next point of concern is Sylki and just what the MCU is going to do with it. I know that it can't be the main focus, not with so many other characters needed to fight the war. But I do want them to at least acknowledge it was a romance. The writers of Loki have said several times that it is a romantic relationship. It just didn't feel that strong in season 2 and I think they need to actually commit to the bit. Especially if, as I suspect, this is might be the last phase and end of the MCU.

I really don't want Sylvie and Loki's first reunion since the end of season 2 to happen off screen. It's something they need to show. So either a) only a short amount of time has passed when we get the reunion or b) HWR's tempad cannot take Sylvie to where Loki is. I say this part because I really hate the idea of Sylvie not going to find Loki quickly. Even Sophia said in a recent interview that Sylvie wouldn't leave Loki alone for long and the only way I will accept her not doing so is if she is unable to go to him. Plus, imagine the drama of their reunion if that ends up being the case.

Of course that is assuming that we get show-Loki (which it sounds like we are). I wouldn't mind getting movie-Loki, but not just him. If we only get one Loki, I want it to be show-Loki. What's the point of making him the God of Stories and replacing HWR otherwise if they're not going to have him participate in the multiversal war? And I'd hate to have the only Loki we get be one who doesn't know who Sylvie is. If they brought in both Lokis, though, they could really have some fun with it. Just imagine Sylvie meeting movie-Loki, quickly realizing it's not her Loki, and going "Damn! Wrong Loki!" and he just goes, "What are you talking about? I'm the only Loki!" Plus, it would be awesome to see how the two Lokis play off each other. Especially considering just how different their lives have been after the battle of New York.

Speaking of different versions of the same character, I know because this is dealing with the mutliverse, we are very likely to get variants of the other characters. And I'm fine with that, but the one character that I want our version of and not just a variant is Thor. I want our Thor to meet show-Loki and learn what he's done. It just wouldn't hit the same with a different version of Thor. And think about how much our Thor has lost. He's lost both of his parents, Loki (multiple times), Heimdall, Vlostagg, Hogun, Fandral, maybe Sif, his home, and now Jane. Yes, he gained an adopted daughter at the end of Love and Thunder, but that's just one gain compared to all of his losses. He needs to gain more. He needs Loki back. He needs to meet Sylvie and take her to heart as a sister (which he would totally do).

All in all, I guess you could say that I'm mildly optimistic about the future of the MCU.

[ttrpgbrackets]

Propaganda and explanations under the cut.

Prophecize:

Your character may only use this once.

You may state something about the world that is unequivocally true. This could be something like, “The enemy will show up here at this time” or, “The barriers between worlds are no longer passable.” You get one sentence with one main idea, and you can only do it once. Spend a Link.

Further errata: This move can only be taken once, by anybody. That means if your friend took this move, then it’s gone. It’s a one hitter quitter so use it wisely…Or don’t, wish for a fish. I’m not going to stop you.

What makes it Cool?

In a game where the canon is already nebulous, the person with the power to all at once say "THIS IS WHAT SHALL COME TO PASS" is incredibly powerful. I've also never seen a move couched as "this can only be used once, in one game, BY ANYONE" and that's so awe-inspiring that it suddenly comes with all the same gravitas mechanically that it does narratively.

World Breaker's Hand:

You’ve inherited some of Melanie Malakh’s power to break the world. Just focus on something you can perceive, within about a quarter-mile of you; judge it as unworthy of existence; and bam! It shatters and turns to dust and then into nothing at all.

This power of unmaking is overwhelming—in fact, it’s worse than you’re probably thinking, because it’s not strictly limited to things. You can kill the sound of footsteps, the shine of a streetlight, the shadow of an ant, the amusement value of a puppet, or the hand of the puppeteer. You can take the weight from a door or a window from a house, and it’s basically up to you at the time whether that leaves a hole or just a “there isn’t a window there” after. You can kill time before an appointment, tone down the salt on an over-salted meal, or snipe a single feather from the wing of a flying tern. You can even do this stuff remotely when visiting someone in the guise of the Dream-Witch’s Shadow or A Waking Dream, below.

This is the power of the Bleak Academy—a power of unmaking, of the Outside. So if you blast something that people love or need, or toy with someone to excess, they may be able to invoke the rules for fighting the Bleak Academy to stand against you.

What makes this cool?

Chuubo's is full of abilities that would be insanely overpowered in any other game, but due to the focus on slice of life they end up playing out very differently. This is the writeup for the ability on the premade character Miramie Mesmer, and she's mostly horrified that this is something she can do! When it does get used, its fun to argue what exactly happens - if I erase my failing grade on my math test what happens? Do I have to take it again? Does the teacher realize she needs to grade it again and I end up where I started?

[ifonotlnow]

ALBUM REVIEW NOBODY CARED ABOUT PART VII: SPIRIT PHONE EDITION

Lifetime Achievement Award: 7.75/10

It took me embarrassingly long to realize that the first letters of delta echo alpha delta spell out “D.E.A.D.”. Anyways, EVEN AS WE SPEAK WERE SYNTHESIZING BLOOD AND ORGANS SYNTHESIZING HEART AND SOUL. 

The slow part’s sick as hell (I’m writing this album review as i listen)

It also took me embarrassingly long to catch the Michael Jackson ref

Touch Tone Telephone: 7.75/10

Fun fact: this was the first lemon demon song I actually liked enough to listen to it repeatdly. After i stopped liking this song, i stopped listening to lemon demon, then I found cabinet man, and i started listening to lemon demon more and started liking this song again.

Caminet Man: 5/10

Ehh. I get why it’s popular cause it’s a great song. I just stopped liking it as much when I listened to the rest of the album. Also, it’s probably too late to say this, but I’m rating on how much I like it, not on how good it is.

No Eyed Girl: 7.5/10

Love how the bass Im this song is Neil with a voice effect. Great.

Also, if i’m correct the lyric is “without proof i know” but i thought it was “without proof, oh no!”

When he died: 8/10

Unfortunately, instead of listening to this on Spotify or something, I’m listening to it on audiomack, so i doubt get to hear the great transition from “no eyed girl” into “when he died” :(

Never noticed the slight echo on Neil’s voice before, sick

Sweett bod: 8/10

Don’t play this one in front of your parents!

Who else but Neil would write a song with the lyric “some sexy shaking tumors”

Sick ass guitar solo

Eighth wonder: 6/10

Don’t LOVE it, but it’s a great song.

Fun fact, this song’s only slightly younger than me.

Ancient Aliens: 7/10

I litened to it too much and now I don’t like it anymore :(

Soft fuzzy man: 8/10

One time in math class, we were listening to the class playlist and this song started playing. My math teacher immediately said “this is horrible, who requested this” and as soon as he read who made the song the whole class looked at me.

As Your Father I Expressly Forbid It: 9/10

This song sounds like the red angry bird

I Earn My Life: 9/10

:(

Reaganomics: 10/10

Hell yeah

…

With reaganomics

Baby

Baby

Baby

BABY

YEAHHHHH

Man Made Object:7/10 

I now realize how good the percussion in this album sounds.

This song has the vibes on an instrumental without being one

I love the delivery of the lines “I am an altogether different man by day / I have the influence to send that man far away”

Spiral of Ants: 8/10

The perfect ending to a perfect album

OVERALL ALBUM RATING: 9/10

FAVORITE AND LEAST FAVORITE SONGS:

Probably sweet bod, reaganomics, or as your father i expressly forbid it (yeah i know, not at all consistent with my ratings)

For my least favorite, easily cabinet man

[downtofragglerock]

Rahi Taxonomy: Oh shit I didn't realize these existed addendum edition

Okay this one's on me, I thought I had catalogued basically every rahi in bionicle and tried to figure out which specific animal groups they belonged to

Turns out bs01 doesn't just have a gallery page for unnamed rahi, it has a full actual page too, including a whole bunch of species I didn't know about, so let's get cracking for what will actually be the last time I swear

First some of the easier ones:

A species of dragonfly rahi

A species of fly rahi (not the acid fly)

A species of firefly rahi

The dark hunter Tracker's pet rahi, which seems to be a bull that has specevo'd into the niche of a dog

A species of shark rahi that is said to have three jaws, wether those jaws are stacked or recursive is not elaborated

A species of crimson insect rahi that were xenophobic to anything that weren't themselves, and, okay, just call them ants, that's clearly what they are, why beat around the bush?

A large species of rahi that I can best describe as "King Ghidorah but brown" which gives us another dragon I suppose

A sub-species of the Nui-Rama that can throw and presumably regrow its stinger, so whatever mosquito/wasp/some third thing those guys are

Now for some slightly more vague descriptions:

A reptilian rahi that eats fish and inhabits rocky coasts, no identifiers beyond "reptile"

A species of fish rahi with malicious temperaments that inhabit a river beneath Zakaz, no indetifiers beyond "fish"

A species of small, aggressive, rainbow colored fish rahi with needle sharp teeth that usually live in schools in the waters around Daxia, while no identifiers beyond "fish" are given, they might be piranhas given the context clues of their rather vivid description

A species of four foot long flying insect rahi, no identifiers beyond "insect"

Other microscopic rahi species outside of the Protodites

A rahi species said to resemble a hybrid of a Kavinika and a lizard. If you take the text at face value that the Kavinika is a wolf, then this is probably some kind of gorgonopsid. If you, like me, find the statement that the Kavinika is a wolf absurd because look at it, its a fucking bird, than this rahi is probably a dromeosaur

A rahi species comprised entirely of a gelatinous substance, so like an amoeba or something

And lastly, the "I really don't know"

A species of rahi that is said to weave webs. Now this could just be another spider, but "spider" is never a descriptor used, and given how many rahi can have powers that are incongruous with their appearance, frankly it could be anything

A small burrowing rahi that can dig quickly. With a description that vague, it could be a number of different species

A tentacled rahi comprised entirely of smoke, I don't even know how that works

A species of flying rahi on Artidax just referred to as "strange". There is also a species of flying six-eyed rahi that live in caves on Artidax. Its possible these are both the same species, but beyond that no significant identifiers

A species of bat-winged rahi used by both the dark hunters and the OOMN as long distance messengers. You might think that a term like "bat-winged" would be a smoking gun, but Nivawk also has bat wings but is a bird, so who knows?

A marine rahi with hypnotic powers, beyond its environment, no significant identifiers

A marine rahi that is immune to all forms of venom, beyond its environment, no significant identifiers

A squat, slimy, rahi species with bladed forelimbs that can stretch to twice its size, I got nothing

A species of pale bipedal rahi with huge yellow eyes

And lastly, a species of rahi with a long clawed leather-scaled limb that can create living rengerative crystals that it then uses to build its nest. The description says limb singular, and it sounds like its describing a tail, and I think long, clawed, scaled tail and my brain immediately goes to Drepanosaurs, a group of Triassic reptiles in a similar niche to modern monkeys with that exact characteristic feature. I doubt that was the intention though.

And there, now I'm really done

[creepycrawliesanonymous]

While you knew that it was pretty much impossible for you to hate Andrew Neiman, he really did know how to get on your nerves.

When you first saw him enter the dreaded Fletcher’s band room, you were struck by his resemblance to a puppy left out in the rain. Wide eyed, a little nervous, and young; not much younger than you, but certainly compared to everyone else in the room. You even felt bad for him the first time he was really truly laid into, stowed away in the saxophone section while listening to the abuse Fletcher hurled at him. You had approached him after rehearsal, maybe to try to be his friend, maybe to just offer some reassurance that he would not find with his teacher. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, because the minute you put a hand on his shoulder he was shrugging you off, stalking away with a “go fuck yourself.” You had made sure to call after him a “fuck you, too, asshole.”

And with that, your rivalry was born.

Up until that awful night of the jazz competition, you two had never even had a full conversation. Sure, you would trade dirty looks from across the band room, sometimes spiced up with a swift middle finger when you were absolutely sure Fletcher wasn’t looking. You would be walking through the halls until Neiman, sitting on a bench hunched over some sheet music, would call out, “Sounded like you had trouble keeping up today. Maybe studio band is too advanced for you.”

“You’re an ant beneath my boot, Neiman.”

Both of your words would always hold spite, but they never seemed to reach the level of malice that was more appropriate for a rivalry. It didn’t help that your face would burn just a bit after each encounter, not out of anger, which would have been fine, even welcome at this point, but something else, something that got on your nerves even more than that infuriating drummer. (Neiman would hide his face in his music after you would pass him, scared of anyone calling out his bright red cheeks while you were still within earshot.)

Which is why you were not the least bit worried, no sir, not at all, when Neiman came in late to the jazz competition, sans drumsticks, yelling about his position as core drummer. And you definitely didn’t want to stop him as he ran out again, in search of his missing drumsticks.

But there was no way you could deny how anxious you were seeing him get on stage late, covered in blood. Him tackling Fletcher was only icing on the cake.

The wind that night was calm, pleasant even. Fall was fully in swing, leaves were changing on the trees outside the theatre. And Neiman, looking more and more like a small boy, a child, was sitting hunched over on the curb, staring into his bloodied hands. You couldn’t not walk over him, to ignore him would be cruel.

“You doing okay?” A stupid question, and you realized that immediately. Neiman sniffed and shook his head, not looking up at you. You squatted down, sitting next to him on the curb.

“I’m such a fucking fuck-up.”

You didn’t say anything, electing to softly place your hand on his shoulder instead. You saw that he was crying before you came outside, but was trying his best not to in front of you.

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Do you need help with your hands?” Anything to steer this conversation away from territory you were woefully unequipped to deal with. He sniffed again, tentatively moving his hands towards you, while you dug around in your tote bag for some bandaids. You made sure to bandage him up with as gentle a touch as possible, the look in his eyes letting you know that his desire to not cry in front of you was not going to hold for much longer. You couldn’t stand to let go when you were finished, cradling his hand more than holding it.

“I though you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.” You lightly rubbed the meat of his palm with your thumb. “You piss me off all the damn time, but I don’t hate you.”

Neiman pushed his face into your shoulder, sniffing once more, before finally silently weeping. You used your free hand to pull him in closer.

“What do I do?”

You rested you cheek on his hair, and took a slow breath in.

“I don’t know, Neiman.” You didn’t. You refused to lie to him. He deserved better than empty words.

He took another shuddering breath in, curling in on himself in your hold.

Another sniff.

“What the fuck do I do?”

—————

Part 2 to maybe lesson the blow

[spanishskulduggery]

i have a question about something -- i say "paso por ti" if im telling someone im passing by for them later today or something but im realizing that isn't the technical future conjugation, that'd be "pasare por ti". is there a reason we say paso instead of pasare. if you say it in the conditional is that saying that you aren't sure so have a back up plan lol

This is actually a very common question or concern. The thing is that present tense can also be used for short-term future

Like the way people say voy al banco can be "I'm going to the bank" or like in the very short future "I will go to the bank"

Another one is nos vemos as an expression is "see you later" but more literally "we will see each other"

(Also I'm assuming you mean pasar por alguien in the sense of "to come get someone" or "to pick someone up" in that sense?)

Using future tense pasaré por ti "I'll come get you" isn't wrong, it just feels more distant future planning... Like I'd say paso por ti enseguida "I'll come get you right away", or paso por ti temprano "I'll come get you early"

Present tense generally has three-ish basic meanings, the regular statement, present continuous, and short-term future. In other words if you say voy it could be "I go", "I am going", and "I will go (shortly)"

-

As for conditional, it would probably make more sense in an "if/then" statement which can be more actually hypothetical with imperfect subjunctive

si me hubiera pedido, pasaría por ti "if you had asked me, I would have come to get you"

...

In a regular sentence that isn't so hypothetical you might say, si me pides, paso por ti "if you ask, I'll come get you" or paso por ti cuando termino "I'll come get you when I'm done" which are more certainty-based statements

Subjunctive is more doubtful but possible... and conditional needs a condition to be met, in other words, "I would get you (assuming something were to happen)"

~

Related: I wouldn't say conditional sounds like a back-up plan it just requires something else to happen first, like "if only I could", "if I had time", "if I were there"... those kinds of expressions are often imperfect subjunctive, followed by conditional. If you were going for a more doubtful present-y feeling it would be present subjunctive

That more reads like doubtful like less than 50% probability or there are certain subjunctive phrases...

Like, es posible que pase por ti antes "it's possible I'll come get you sooner/before"

And it can exist with regular subjunctive - paso por ti cuando termine la película which reads as "I'll come get you once the movie ends" as if you don't know when it will end

Note here that present subjunctive has the same future-y quality as regular present indicative, like cuando termine la película "whenever the movie ends" vs. cuando termina la película "when the movie ends" both have the same element of "hasn't happened yet"

Same would be true for es posible que pase por ti "it's possible I'll come get you" it's just an indefinite future versus regular indicative paso por ti "I am going to come get you"

-

I think in this particular context, all of it can make sense it's more just the vibe of it; certain or uncertain, short-term or long-term planning, etc.

Present tense is a very nuanced tense in my experience; English tends to use more modals to express things like "will" or "would" which makes us question the exact timing of certain tenses

For us "I go", "I am going", and "I will go" require entirely different words (which Spanish does have) but it makes it hard to understand when Spanish present tense could possibly be any one of them