#he's just the easiest to humanize

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Enki S Ending: God Blocking Gambit

[seefasters]

my take on the steeplechase trio (and montrose’s mask variants)

[akkivee]

bonds are necessary for the true hypnosis mic to be used according to rei!!!! so bonds not only negate the effects on the target, but also on the user as well!!!!!

[alchemistdetective]

The Idol

[note-boom]

Fanon: Mori is an irredeemably evil pedophile and traumatised Dazai

Canon: Mori is a utilitarian creep and traumatised Yosano and was slightly terrified of Dazai

[alicepao13]

Pretty late to this but whatever (you don’t want to know what is happening in this blog’s drafts lol). Since season 5 is over and no extra insight came forth, I must say that it slightly bothers me that based on what we saw, the sole excuse for Charlie’s behavior in season 4 seems to be that he was acting out because he couldn’t have the woman he wanted. There were so many things going on that for this to be the only takeaway, we’d have to choose to brush over the dozens of times he and Rex had their lives threatened and almost died, and that the people close to him were in danger a bunch of times too.

And then he and Sarah get together and that’s like, a magical fix on everything? It would be nice if relationships worked like that.

[avpd-queer]

I feel bad that my former best friend is in a toxic relationship and can’t see it, is throwing away their friends of over a decade for her, but I also can’t stop remembering how, when I shared with them that I had just learned I had been cheated on and gaslighted about it for 6 years, their response was concern about my abuser’s mental health. That conversation didn’t affect their relationship with him in the slightest, they didn’t try to be there for me or show up for me to him, and when I they learned that I was going to get back with that person just a few days later, expecting them to be like, “uh no I don’t think that’s a good idea” (like everyone else had done and like I expected from them, having told them “just don’t let any of your friends date him” when I shared that I was leaving him, thinking they could help me figure out where to sleep and how to adjust), they didn’t protest at all. I was glad to avoid the awkwardness of, “thank you for your concern but I don’t have other options and idk I guess I’m gullible but also I just really want to believe it’ll get better” but also hurt that they didn’t seem concerned for my well-being. Hoping that they just didn’t voice that part because I’m an adult and can make decisions and already know what advice I would give myself. I just had to cling to believing that, and thinking maybe they don’t understand what gaslighting is and that’s why they didn’t seem to care, even as they became less and less my friend and eventually dropped both of us for trying to set a boundary with them about their girlfriend. And the only way they offer for me to be there for them through their relationship is to stuff down all of my needs and feelings, go along with every whim of their girlfriend, and accept that we will never get time with them without her ever again. They kept pretending like everything was okay and they totally understood, when we were face-to-face, and then they’d go home and suddenly we’re horrible and need to apologize to her for…being her friend? Trying to get more time with our best friend? Being honest with our best friend when they ask why we haven’t been able to get closer to their girlfriend? We were trying to be adult and trust in the strength of our friendship, but they fully gave in to their girlfriend’s temper tantrum over her misinterpretation of messages she logged into their discord to read, and they have just fully thrown us away. Ghosted us for pride and haven’t communicated with us in any form since. We had some extra pizza from a canceled event at my partner’s work that I left on their doorstep and had my sister text about, and they responded that they were out of the country, visiting her family. Normally we have two weekly dnd sessions and 1-2 weekly hangout sessions - the first week of dnd was canceled and after that, they just never showed up. This month of nothing is one of the few months we had left before they were going to move to where her family lives in the US, like 10hr drive from here, being fully isolated with her, without a support system, away from the support system they haven’t been away from in like 8 years (when I was in New York - my partner was here during those 2 years, they were roommates).

I’m just so hurt. They meant so much to me, I planned on having them in my life for the rest of it. I knew in the last relationship they were in they let us fall to the side some but she broke up with them and they realized how absorbed they’d been and promised to not let it happen again. Before meeting the current girlfriend, who they immediately got absorbed into. I don’t know what the fuck to do.

[bayleaf-2]

*takes off glasses and pinches bridge of my nose* god hpw much vivi lore have i posted here again

[bluebudgie]

what's fascinating about drawing petthri is that he's so incredibly inconsistent difficulty-wise.

like with all my other rats i just know that certain criminals are harder to get right while others come really easily

but petthri is always either one or the other. ranges from "draws 3 lines; oh good he's done" to "curse this rat's face he's literally the worst (spends half an hour moving around cheek bones)". nothing in between.

[kakusu-shipping]

Neat!!! Tell me more about your reverse selfship w Koro-Sensei!!! What kind of media would you be from? How would the general fandom feel about your character?

Anon I love you mwah mwah this is all I was thinking about while at the eye doctor today and lemme tell you. I still have nothing.

Like Koro-Sensei's the easiest to do a reverse Self Ship for because he is a self shipper, especially with cool characters from anime and manga which is what my default media is buuut

I don't think I'd be his type in a fictional setting. Koro-Sensei has a very prominently big titty girl that could beat your ass type when it comes to anime. He likes Shonen and action and cool main characters with super neat powers. I.. don't and probably wouldn't fit into or be from an anime like that (a sweet slice of life maybe, one of the side characters to the main romance?)

I just don't think I as a character would fall into his range. I mean maybe, we all have our outta left field F/Os here and there. It's just unlikely.

Taking into consideration this Highschool or maybe Office Job Slice of Life Comedy Romance setting, I'd probably be a side character, implied canon queer rep in 2015 manga that got censored for the Anime, or even fully cut because I'm just one of the friend group who didn't get a real episode to himself till book 7 or so, and didn't end up with anyone in the end. The manga readers (like Koro-Sensei) are die hard fans, the Anime Onlys have no idea what they're talking about. I have no official merch and the Mangaka only draws me in the big promotional group images sometimes.

I could see Koro-Sensei being really upset about the lack of content about his favorite character and setting out to make it all on his own. He write the X Readers and draws all the fanart and makes a whole Stan blog and everything. Goes really hard about it for two weeks or so, and ends up burning himself out on it. Then he'd switch hyper focus onto something else and leave it all to rot in the bowels of A03.

That's about all I have for it right now, and probably eve will have? At least for Koro-Sensei. I have some other ideas for other Reverse Self Ships thanks to the Discord bouncing the idea around this morning a lot.

I dunno if I'll continue these into anything but they're fun thought experiments! Thankyou for indulging me!

[poptartmochi]

in my benedictus era rn

[scover-va]

Oh yeah highlight of my night so far probably was when i booted up ultrakill 6-2 (with cheats so i could focus on rambling) so i could show my brother Gabriel’s voice lines in said chapter (i also rambled abt gabriel’s like. Lore and stuff. Mostly his overarching narrative presence in the other layers) (this happened because i mentioned one of gabe’s voice lines references a NIN song, my brother says he only listens to one NIN song, blah blah the stars aligned) and then he asked if he could fuck around in the next chapter w/ cheats on. I was like. Yeah sure go for it buddy. While holding back a big ol grin because it’s fucking 7-1. I only maybe really told him abt the basic mechanics in advance like how to shoot and how to punch/parry. It was extra fun when he thought the minotaur boss fight was over. Like. Surprise, bitch! Anyways yeah then i got him playing thru the game properly. Its been fun watching him so far actually he got to the end of 2-3 before tapping out bc he was tired. Do you know how much lore i got to ramble about. Do you. Win for me

[rasticore]

i think most christians are just fundamentally unable to know how to tell a compelling story even when given the easiest building blocks for one

like the whole story of christ gets overshadowed by the "son of god" aspect when the most interesting and even relatable part is that he's literally just A Dude who was saddled with insane amounts of responsibility. Like it's THE quintessential Chosen One story but they somehow manage to strip any amount of nuance and depth you could go for because they're so scared of "sacrilege" or "blasphemy".

[whateveriwant]

SFW Size Difference HCs with Simon

F!Reader, NSFW version

He loves to use your head/shoulders as a resting spot. All the time you’ll be cooking, sorting through the mail, etc. and he’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and place his chin on the top of your head to watch what you’re doing

After you drive his car, you always have to remind yourself to adjust the seat back for him. You can tell when you’ve forgotten because the next day his knee is all bruised after having bashed it against the steering wheel

You’ve discovered kissing him is easiest when you’re elevated somehow (e.g., sitting on the kitchen counter). Otherwise you have to work around tippy toes and neck strains

Of course, you’re no stranger to using step stools/ladders to grab something that’s high up. But now that you’re dating a literal giant of a man, he’s become your personal slave that you make fetch things that are out of your reach

That being said, don’t get on Simon’s bad side because he will use his height to his advantage. You mouth off at him? Have a bit of an attitude with him? Yeah, he’s hiding your favorite snacks on the top of the fridge

Because his hands are so much bigger than yours, you can never interlock your fingers together when holding hands. You just have to settle for palm against palm :(

Don’t even worry about your feet potentially getting tired around him. The moment you start to complain about your sore feet, he’s immediately picking you up and carrying you either bridal style or piggy back (I wanna be his lil backpack)

“His” jumper? Nay nay. Our jumper, because you’re constantly raiding his closet to wear his shirts/sweaters like dresses

His size makes him like a human furnace, so whenever it’s cold, you just need to shiver a little and he’s unzipping his coat to let you nuzzle against him

Every time you go to a restaurant that has high tables, he jokes about getting you a booster seat like a little kid (but he secretly finds it adorable when you kick your feet back and forth when they don’t reach the ground)

99% of the time, he’s the big spoon when you cuddle. And though he would never admit it, that 1% of the time when the roles are reversed are actually his favorite 🥺

Concerts are a blast for you because you get a great view from your perch on his shoulders. As for the people standing behind you, well… Let’s just say it’s a good thing your boyfriend knows how to fight

[seelestia]

✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(your heart skips a beat.)

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

how mysterious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ a moment among the stars:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(it remains persistently.)

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

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

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

✧ a moment among the stars:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[arolesbianism]

I wanna redesign my furry Yukina design a lil bit to make her dog half more clear but also I need to design everyone else but also doggy :(