#nem scribbles

[xxang3l-trapxx]

Art dump!!!

Some fanart from the previous weeks!

@lovefrom-theother-side @cinemagh0ul @brains4ne @taytumelise

[stars-over-ice-cream]

oh 2000 posts how it is to be feeling sane

[4izawas]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒. | 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔-𝐍𝐘𝐀.

𝐂𝐖 ‼️ | hybrids, hybrid au, no quirks, cat hybrid aizawa, hurt slight comfort, shou-nya lore drop ( aka u finally learn abt nem n zashi ).

“It wasn’t just me.”

Shouta’s voice breaks the long silence that had been perpetuated by nothing but the soft sounds of the accented narrator speaking about penguins and other arctic life from the television. You jump, startled by him speaking all of a sudden when you’d thought him asleep; you’d been cozy on the armchair in the corner of the living room, tapping away at your laptop and scribbling rapid notes into a notebook as you worked from home, and Shouta had been dozing on the couch the last time you’d glanced up. 

“Oh?” Is your only response, low and dumb-sounding in your surprise; Shouta wasn’t one for sharing information about his past, so this was mostly new for you. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs quietly, playing with the hem of the blanket he’d wrapped himself up in. He's quiet for a long time, seemingly pondering what to say next, and then, “There were three of us — four, before the accident, but three now.” He suddenly looks uncomfortably wistful — and pained. So pained. “Then. Three then. Now it’s just me.”

Your heart aches for him, despite what little you know. you weren’t an idiot, just from the mere sight of him and his missing eye and limb ( and God, all the scars; some of them  must have been agonizing ) you knew his life hadn’t been easy — and yes, you’d known he’d not gone into the shelter alone thanks to the manager ( though you’d only been informed of him being brought in as a part of a trio, not one amongst four ), but despite that he was a complete question mark, a mystery you’d yet to solve. “You aren’t…” you hesitate as he looks up at you through a curtain of hair reminiscent of the first time the two of you had locked eyes in the shelter, then force yourself to continue. “You aren’t alone anymore. You have me, if you want me.”

Another silence falls over the two of you. You don’t take his lack of a response as any sort of slight, considering he isn’t a chatterbox by any means ( and likely hadn’t ever been, if you were as good of a judge of character as you thought you were ), but still don’t return to your laptop. You instead gaze at him through the silence, eyes soft and considering, as he repetitively glances up to lock eyes with you before looking away. 

“I had a friend. Her name was Nemuri,” he offers quietly, and you try to control your facial expressions; him sharing names, something he clutched tightly against his chest, was a big step. “I met her first.” He goes quiet and blinks towards the window; you pretend like you don’t see how his eyes are growing misty. “Her fur was blue-black, like the sky in the middle of the night, and she was a short-haired hybrid. Her eyes were blue…” he trails off, his thick tail lashing anxiously as he slowly starts to breath hard in what looks like the beginnings of a small panic attack. “Hizashi was the other. He was blond and long-haired, more than me. He had green eyes, like spring grass…”

Shouta’s visibly trembling now, and you feel almost sick. Quietly you say, “Are you — no. What is it, Shouta? What’s wrong?” It’s the correct thing to ask, you discover a tiny bit later. He’s quiet for a long time — a really long time. His eyes are wide and panicked and wet, and he looks on the brink of tears as he gazes out the window into the trees on the edge of the backyard of your property. 

“I can’t,” he whispers quietly, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion as a soft sniff escapes him. “I can’t remember their faces very well anymore — just their eyes, and their fur.” Your heart plummets to your stomach, sharp and cold like a stone coated in ice, as he continues, voice shaking ever so slightly. “Their voices are gone too. It’s been so long…”

Slowly you stand, allowing him to show any signs of being against you going to sit with him. He does nothing but watch out the window, and you sit next to him on the couch gently and pretend you don’t feel when he sags i to you. 

“You speak about them in the past tense,” you say slowly, not wanting to push too far but still so curious,  “Are they…?”

“Might as well be,” he says bitterly, still staring blindly out the window, and the ache in your heart strengthens. “They were taken years ago and I’ve never seen them since.”

“That doesn’t mean that they died, Shouta,” you say as gently as you can manage, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, clearly holding back all of the big emotions he was feeling. 

“No, but it’s easier.”

“It’s easier to assume they’re dead?” you question softly. 

He nods. “Yeah. Makes it easier. Dead means they’re not out there somewhere, possibly being hurt again. Dead means they’re with—“ He stops himself, almost choking on nothing, and looks away. You want to ask who they could be with, but know you’ve already pushed your luck on sensitive subjects today, and wisely choose to refrain. 

“Do you remember what they were like?” you ask, already knowing the answer, and you warm up inside when he huffs out a tiny laugh and smiles fondly at his hands, visibly losing some of the tension in his shoulders as he melts against you further. Instinctively you begin rubbing gently between his ears, and he snatches up on of your hands to hold in his own, picking at the edges of your fingernails and silently comparing them to his own claws.  

“Yes. They were loud and loved smiling, and they were… they were like the Sun,” he finally says honestly, his voice gooey and soft with a love and reverence you so desperately hoped his former companions had when speaking of him to their owners. “My entire life endlessly revolved around them, they were the only thing that ever mattered to me…” He fixes his one-eyed gaze on you, soft and contemplative. “I suppose you’re my Sun now.”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[arcadian-vampire]

-- Welcome to Scribble Hell --

Hewwoooo, my name is Alo(e), but I also go by Aither, Red, Ra, Oracle, Kafei, and Arc! Feel free to use any of these names for me. I'm 23, and use they/them/their or ne/nem/neir pronouns, unless it's comedic to use something else. My gender is a bit that I'm fully committed to 🦑🎉

This is my chaotic mess of a main blog ft. LoZ + other games, queer disabled anti-capitalism, and plenty of neurodivergence

Twitter/Reddit refugee friendly! Don't forget to change your icon + blog title so people know you aren't a bot

You can find (or blacklist) my posts where I whine about my disability under the tag #medical anomaly blogging, or take a peek at my feeding tube-focused sideblog @nothing-more-than

Check out my art blog @clandestine-crayons , and my cat's blog @the-original-chai ! I post art whenever I make it, and kitty cat pics whenever I take them, so stay tuned!! My cat is the cutest ❤️

If I mention Ravio, chances are good I'm talking about my little brother ravio-the-cabinet-man, not character Ravio from hit Legend of Zelda game A Link Between Worlds

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[whatsarasaid]

fic tag game

Rules: Make a new post and post your latest/most recent line from your WIP and tag as many people as there are words. Tagged by @eri-223.

From Nem, Re: "Do you still do this sort of thing?"

One of these days, the stars will align and I'll get back into fic writing (I have a feeling those stars will be called Death Stranding 2). Role-play currently satisfies all of the scribble urges. The collaboration is more appealing to me, too. It turns writing into two children violently knocking Barbies together while pruning in a mud puddle out back, and that's energy I struggle to find when writing solo. I think I also like facilitating ideas more than creating them. Always an angel, never a god—when it comes to writing, at least.

Anyway, here's the most recent last line I wrote from a role-play reply:

He moons over the cookies and cake, making some polite-haha joke about how you won’t find these in MREs.

The rules are made up and the points don't matter, so only tagging @visualheresy (I have a fic of yours languishing in an open tab, begging to be read, and I'm excited to sink my teeth in here soon), @tallmatcha (one day we'll share a fandom again <3, I have hope), and @primewritessmut.

[onthekeys]

Cont. — When I stand next to you, I’m a trouble maker

Mar. 9, 2023; Wed. — WIP (Composition, writing & scribbles) 002

Quarta-feira, dia nove de março de dois mil e vinte três.

Sem alarme.

Na manhã seguinte, Mara acorda por conta própria por volta das dez. Procura se mexer, mas só de tentar rolar para o lado, sente o corpo todo pegando fogo. "Caralho... Em pensar que tem gente que faz muito mais do que eu fiz ontem em dança e não acorda todo quebrado na manhã seguinte." Pensa consigo mesma, encarando o teto.

Com esforço, consegue se virar e vê sua colega de quarto sentada em sua cama olhando o celular. "Jinny. Vai comprar um relaxante muscular pra mim na farmácia, URGENTE. Daí depois volta com um copo de água também, tá?" Contorce o rosto enquanto fala, sentindo pontadas de dor aqui e ali toda vez que se mexia um pouquinho involuntariamente.

Quando Seojin volta com a cartela de comprimidos e a água, se senta e toma um, lentamente e com dificuldade. Fica sentada por alguns minutos sem se mexer, com exceção dos dedos das mãos e os pulsos. Ao perceber seu estado melhorando, prontamente busca seu caderno para fazer anotações sobre o treino de ontem, apesar de ainda sentir o corpo um pouco sensível. Com uma mão começa a rabiscar ideias de coreografias enquanto as imagens do dia anterior ainda estão frescas na memória, enquanto com a outra acende um cigarro. Também belisca um pão para evitar passar mal por fumar de estômago vazio.

Apesar de desenhar um tanto mal, rabisca algumas ideias de possíveis pontos de foco da dança. Também complemente com notas como "com a mulher atrás" e "sem beijo, apenas provocação". Já imagina qual papel assumirá em cada pose e indica a si mesma com um M, além de desenhar seu cabelo comprido e franja na figura.

Passa umas duas horas fazendo só isso, e quando se sente satisfeita o suficiente para dar uma pausa, larga tudo e descansa de olhos fechados por algum tempo. Não sabe exatamente quanto, mas depois de um momento abre os olhos novamente e dessa vez procura seu computador e seus pendrives para continuar a trabalhar nas músicas em si. Foca mais na title, dá uma polida tanto na melodia e instrumental quanto na letra, chegando no título definitivo de Trouble Maker, mas também trabalha em outras faixas, pretendendo lançar um mini-álbum e quem sabe mais coisa no futuro.

Passa o resto do dia trabalhando nesse projeto, sem fazer mais nada. Até pula o almoço e só para para fazer um lanchinho de tarde e depois um jantar simples. Com a cara enfiada hora no caderno e hora no computador, não escuta as meninas da banda chamando ela para dar uma volta e também não olha para o relógio. Só sai de seu mundinho às onze da noite, sem nem se tocar que tinha passado tanto tempo focando em uma coisa só, e vai direto para cama mais uma vez.

[startrekscribbles]

Day 47 – USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Sovereign Class http://ift.tt/2Eu26kO

[jarel-dot-thepoet]

Rapid fire guesses like my fingers doing double texting next in line I'm next in rhyme line reason for seasoning a sea son for me son we gotta see sum'n like tubthumping wit chumbawumba bubble gum ya chew you up blow a bub pop that suka then spit it out in public get down dirty done wit it run over tire spinnin shit like the swishinin of a toilet or the sizzlin of the boilin egg water you niggas aint nuthin but egg water good for boilin me up hot hard boiled eggin crack shells heads n tails n no more incubatin this my escape em room for changin see me on the camera like a pornhub cable TV what's your category cannot filter me I'm unparallelled I'll go for the longest duration curation Keurig shin put the mug against pour the water in coffee cafe proud like pennay CIEN like Andrade come off of rebound like I'm Rodman new hair 'zolved problem distant (dissolved) memory forget about me? Blemish B. On your faces. See. Son Free Daughters From Slavery.

Black Lives MATTeR just like ALL iNgRedieNTs of a cake batter. Flitter flatter. Ditter datter. Pitter patter. Actress actor. Push a quarterback like a sacker. X Factor Facin Fears like Joe Rogan wit too many beers or too many jeers queers to hear ears niggas appear FUCK FEAR! Adhere to hear a weer peer pear wear where here hear appear apparel is sterile ferrell callin swat cause someone won a tournament duke to win march madness cause I'm not in the Philippines makin things happen. Crappin on the beat like a spinner jack swagger style can't jack my style my style never die multiplies bebe kids cousins n nem friend till the end could be the end but i told you no dating before your married scary to be wary but dreary mcdreary conspiracy for quizzin the mind study in time train behind knows where to sit. Upfront n personal business to take care of you. It ain't easy to write a book n it n'aint easy reedin 1 eitha. Pipes of a believer. Phone gripped, hands of a receiver. The boy Golden. Retriever. Say it again. The Boy Golden. Harry Retriever styles like Jill Scott stoppin by Golden spots. Glamour n Glitz'n. Fishin four houses Dasher, Cupid, Blitzen, Vixen Winter Wonderland Wishin that's 4 x 4 on 4 different house kitchens quick cookies n bullets mathematician jars still far from empty fuck forgive me 2 thousand n 22nd reasons for reparations restorations no hesitation government pay me pay us for savin you from going broke hungry n crazy cannibalism insanely white right not write for left rights scribble scrabble different rights switch tiles like a different right write a wrong like I'm different right? Sharpshooter 2 Chainz tooth'll'ya HitMans Bret Hart Owen swingin from the left heart broke my heart. Different start. Reignition. Back in the kitchen switchin demons like we le monstrate sliced on the plate for an hour or late r gay tour scopin bodies i c u o n my radar Reptar Rugrats runnin round tyrannosaur Rex whats your head good for? Usin it.

Not abusin it. Different view in it. Beef the stew n sip. The broth n coff in. Dead nails droppin on ur coughin cousin covid huggin no taste buddin joe pumpin stomach cause its fun huh'n n yea ima get me a hun in the phili ppines n its gonna be too sweet like smoke n cocoa beans.

My dog n cat. Go thru measures drast ic. Walk around Mr. Fantastic for Owlin wise nudist scowlin foolin around n this wOrDPLAY game of lyricism like I was the one holdin a convention in it. Microsoft Surface sinnin touch me from the beginnin for that the world was spinnin bottle playin n kissin n g at the endin. Cause ima G. No 1NE can Grade me except Him.

The ENd.

WoRdPLAY by Ryan Jarel Harris

[xxang3l-trapxx]

A year in drawings.

@cinemagh0ul @seikointelli @brains4ne @taytumelise @whatsaudreythinkingabout @xxbatmanb3y0ndxx @kymyit

[stars-over-ice-cream]

It was meant to be temporary, and this Twilight knows like the back of his hand. A flame, yes, but one that would be blown out once he was ready. 

He just didn’t have enough oxygen to do it yet.

[moniheartsluffy]

- [ ✌︎︎ ] attack on titan scribbles

warnings: there are none🧍🏽‍♀️ i don’t think…but to y’all remember this show on disneyxd??? cause i loved it. but enjoy😌 (read the tags ig😗)

ఌ eren gives me SUCH kick buttowski vibes

ఌ armin is 100% gunter. fanon armin to be exact. i will take no constructive criticism😗

ఌ i think jean would be brad💀(connie n sasha would be brad friends…idk they names)

ఌ and whenever eren and armin need help fighting jean nem they call mikasa😭

ఌ ik y’all seen kick momma😩 she so fuckin fine istg (kick momma 🤝 carla yeager)

(being fine)

ఌ idk what ppl see in grisha😕 im sorry but he so fuckin ugly😭 kick daddy ugly too soo uhh…👀 yeah

ఌ levi would be one of the neighbors that don’t like kick😭 tryna get that boy sent to military school n shit😟

[therainroguefanfiction]

🎾 Cult; Masaharu Niou (Sportember #002)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Slice of Life, School, Friendship

Word Count: 2,440

Pairing: Reader, Niou

World: Prince of Tennis

Prompt: “Do you wanna start a cult with me? I’m not vibrating like I ought to be, I need a purpose.”

Sport: Tennis

Author’s Note: While I did use a random generator to create an idea for the logo, it gave me the idea to create this and, believe it or not, I actually make this 4 symbol as a line break when I’m writing stories on paper. No idea why I started doing this, but I thought it was perfect for the logo, so I wrote it out as neatly as I could and then added the diamond heart in the center

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

Your eyes followed the ball as it shot back and forth across the net. It was a practice match between Niou-Yagyuu and Marui-Jackal, but you weren’t focused on who was hitting it, you could only focus on the ball itself. Your mind was blank, a small sheen of sweat covering your skin because of the sun baring down the metal bench you sat upon. This is how you spent your weekdays – you would wake up, go to school, watch practice, then return home.

‘What a boring, mundane life,’ you sighed, letting your chin fall into the palm of your hand, propped up on your knee.

Yukimura glanced at you, brow quirked in question. “Is something wrong, Y/N-san?”

“Eh?” You finally tore your gaze away from the ball, turning to look at the captain sitting at the opposite end of the bench. “No, I’m okay, just bored.”

Sanada grunted as he stood beside his captain, arms folded across his chest as his eyes scanned the courts, just looking for someone to yell at. “If you’re bored, then get up and run laps.”

You actually considered this for a moment before shaking your head and sliding down in your seat. “Sounds boring.”

His eye twitched at your lack of motivation, eyes snapping to glare at you from beneath his cap, but Yukimura stopped him with a chuckle. “You need to find a purpose.”

“A purpose? Like what?”

“Something you enjoy that you can dive into with your whole being. A sport, perhaps, or a club. Your studies or even a job. It may not seem that important because you’re young, but -”

“We’re the same age, Yuki.”

He ignored you. “It’s very important to find yourself while you’re young. It becomes much harder as an adult.”

“You remembering a past life or somethin’?”

He only smiled in response, closing his eyes.

You meditated on his words for the rest of the day, barely conscious of what was happening around you as you made the trek home. Time seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye and you found yourself stepping through the classroom door the next morning, completely unaware of what had happened after leaving the court. You had been so pre-occupied with the advice that you couldn’t recall anything from that conversation to the current period in time.

Even after all of that, you still had no idea what your purpose was supposed to be.

A shove to your shoulder snapped you from your thoughts as Niou came up behind you, his arm resting on your shoulder. “You left without me this morning, brat.”

“Oh, my bad.” You headed for your seat at the back of the room, right by the window, and Niou took his seat in front of you.

“Ne, ne, did you see the new music video?”

“There’s a new one? Lemme see!”

You glanced to the side where two guys were huddled together around their cell phone. Music started to play super loud and they fumbled to turn it down, sending nervous and apologetic looks to the other students that had stopped to stare at them. Normally, you would just ignore this, having no interest in the rest of the student body, but there was something drawing you to them.

“Hey,” you called out, gaining their attention. “Can I see it, too?”

Boy one nodded with a grin. “Sure!”

“Thanks.” You stood up, moving to stand on the first boy’s left as he held the phone between the three of you, pulling the slider back to the start of the video before pressing play. It was an American rock band called Bring Me the Horizon and, while you couldn’t understand most of the lyrics, the song and video stuck with you well after it came to an end. There was just something… magical and powerful about it.

“Take your seats,” Jin-sensei ordered as he stepped into the classroom seconds before the bell rang. Everyone did as he said, shuffling to their seats as a wave of quiet settled over the class.

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but his words were a blur within your brain, outweighed by the video still replaying in your mind. Glancing at the teacher to make sure he wasn’t look in your direction, you quietly pulled your phone from your bag, hiding it under your desk as you searched for the translated lyrics of the song.

By the time lunch rolled around, you had watched the muted music video a few dozen times.

Niou said nothing as he left the room, returning a few moments later with two pieces of soba bread and two boxes of strawberry milk. He set all four onto your desk before sitting backward in his chair, his teal eyes curious. “What’s got you so distracted?”

You looked up at your best friend as he unwrapped the plastic from the bread, taking a large bite. The words passed your lips before your brain could even process them. “Let’s start a cult.”

His brow quirked up in surprise and he swallowed the bite of bread, lips curling up. “Sure, puri~”

With a nod, you opened your notebook to a clean page, picking up your pen. “First, we need a name.”

“‘Puri.'” He smirked, eyes shimmering with amusement.

“Too obvious.”

“‘The Nious.'”

“No.”

“‘Niou and Y/N.'”

“Boring.”

“‘Nyoun.'”

“Stop making shit up.” You rubbed your forehead in frustration, looking down at the list of proposed names. All of them sucked, even the couple that you had jotted down.

With a hum, Niou plucked the pen from your hand, turning the notebook so it was him facing him before scribbling something down and turning it back to you with a satisfied grin.

“‘N.M.Y.N’?”

“Nem-yen,” he corrected before taking another bite of his bread.

It sounded and looked quite strange, but… something about it stuck with you. You circled it before drawing a line beneath the names to separate the page. “Okay, now that we have a name, we need a symbol. Something that will represent the cult, something that people look at and immediately know who it belongs to.” He opened his mouth, showing off the half-chewed bread, but you cut him off with a disgusted scowl. “And not a tennis ball.”

He scoffed, words muffled. “Why ask if you’re just gonna reject my ideas?”

“Because your ideas are stupid,” you responded, flicking his forehead with the pen. “And chew your damn food before speaking.”

He did as you requested, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Google it.”

“We need a unique symbol, not something taken off google.”

“Gimme your phone.” He held out his hand and you placed the phone against his palm. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he searched for a random symbol generator, only to wrinkle his nose. “It’s just a bunch of HTML code generators.”

“Let me see.” You took the phone back, clearing the search bar and trying a few different search terms. It took a few tries but, finally, you found a site.

Niou hummed as he read the site’s name. “Sounds questionable.”

You clicked the generated button a few times before finding a suitable description, then you moved to the paper to draw it out to the best of your ability. You were no artist, but the design was fairly simple, completed in just sixty seconds. Even so, you thought it looked pretty cool.

Niou hummed, his chin propped up against his palm. “It’s perfect, puri~ What’s next?”

“We should make fliers so people know we exist and can join us.” You frowned, tapping the pin against the page in thought. “I’m not very artistic, though, and I only know the basics of Photoshop.”

“Leave that part to me~” He winked. “Now eat your bread before I do.”

You rolled your eyes but exchanged the pen for the bread roll, carefully pulling the plastic off of it. For the first time in years, you actually felt excited about something and you were looking forward to what the future would bring. Is this what it means to have a purpose in life? You weren’t sure, honestly, but you weren’t feeling bored anymore and that was a great feeling.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

You closed your locker door, finding Niou’s grinning face behind it. “Morning, Haru.”

Niou pulled his hand from behind his back, holding up a stack of papers with a grin on his lips. “Puri~”

Curiously, you took the stack from his hands, eyes scanning the page. The design was simple enough with the silhouetted bust of a man, the name NMYN written in a speech bubble with the symbol you had drawn fading into the background. At the bottom of the page in bold, black letters were the words Join Us followed by a time and date.

The corners of your lips pulled up, eyes shining. “They look awesome.”

“Of course they do~ My sister is in college for graphic design, after all.” He smirked. “I already delivered a stack to my fanclub. They are official members now.”

You glanced at the clock before separating the stack. “Come on, we only have ten minutes before the warning bell sounds.”

“Puri~”

The two of you headed off in opposite directions, handing out fliers to every student that you passed. Most just took it and slipped it into the back of their books, not even sparing it a glance, while some sent you questioning or concerned looks. Others just waved their hands and shook their head before moving on, not interested in whatever the flier had to tell them. You were able to get rid of nearly all of them by the time the bell rang.

You stepped into homeroom, heading to your desk where you placed the remaining fliers. Movement from the corner of your eye had you glancing to the side where the two boys from before stood, quietly bickering as they glanced at you. Boy one caught your eye and cleared his throat, offering you a shy smile as his friend pushed him forward.

Before he could speak, you held out one of the fliers, nearly hitting him in the face with it. That seemed to be what he was planning on asking about because his eyes lit up as he took it. Boy two peeked over his shoulder, brow furrowing. “There’s a date but no location… where do we meet?”

Niou walked into the room at that moment, hands empty and a smirk upon his lips. “If you really want to join us, you have to figure that out for yourself. Puri~”

“Hah? Can’t we even get a hint?”

“You already have.” He tapped the flier before falling into his chair.

The boy’s lips parted but the bell cut him off, Jin-sensei stepping through the door soon after and ordering everyone to take their seats. Niou sent you a wink before turning his attention to the front of the room.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

When the time finally arrived for the first NMYN meeting, you found yourself feeling quite nervous as the two of you headed to the meeting location – the basement underneath the basketball gymnasium at the far end of the school grounds. The door was located at the back of the tool shed behind the gym, a location that not too many students were aware of. There was no real reason to visit the tiny shed, after all.

How many people could honestly figure out that there was a small trap door hidden within the bust on the flier? Even you hadn’t noticed it at first, thinking that Niou was a genius for adding it.

Even if they did notice it, how would they possibly connect that to the hidden door in the shed? This honestly worried you and you found yourself wondering if the project you had put your heart into would turn out to be a flop.

Niou bumped his shoulder against yours and when you glanced over, you saw him holding his hands together in front of his chest as if he were praying. “All I’m asking for’s a little bit of faith.”

You chuckled at the use of the lyrics and nodded, tugging the wooden door open. It was an older door and didn’t even have a lock it since the school never believe it to be an issue. The shed itself was small, filled with cobwebs and gardening materials that were rusted and unusable. As far as the student body was concerned, the shack didn’t even exist.

Niou stepped inside first and when you went to follow him, you noticed something on the door frame. It was small, carved into the wood crudely – the cult’s symbol. The trap door creaked and groaned as the rusted hinges were forced into action, the metal coming to rest against the back wall.

He carefully lowered himself into the hole, facing you as he descended the rusted metal ladder. You watched him, seeing candlelight flickering down below as they lit up the darkness. Once he was out of the way, you carefully stepped onto the ladder, pulling the trap door shut behind you before descending to the concrete below.

Your footsteps echoed through the tunnel as you followed the curving path which soon opened up into a large room. A group of people in black robes were gathered within, silently facing toward the back wall where a podium had been set up, surrounded by flickering tea candles. Behind the podium was a black banned, the symbol printed in a crisp white pain in the center of it. Pipes snaked across the walls on either side of the room, the sound of water dripping to the ground echoing every minute or so.

At the sound of your approach, the crowd turned toward you, bowing at the hip. “Welcome, masters!”

They parted like the sea as you and Niou stepped toward the raised platform, all eyes following the two of you. While Niou took his spot beside the banner, hands folded behind his back, you stood behind the podium, hands gripping both sides of the damp wood. As you looked down at the small crowd, their eyes focused only on you as if you were a god among men, a rush of excitement filled your veins.

You felt powerful, important, like your voice actually meant something. You felt high, felt happy. It no longer felt as if you were just floating through life, trying to find something to anchor you down. You had a purpose now.

You smiled, tongue darting out to wet your lower lip before addressing your waiting subjects. “Welcome, my children… to NMYN.”

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

[angellazull]

(Arte e edição feita por/Art and editing by @ryollie)

O convite

Uma história de Slytherin Angel

Enquanto os alunos ouviam o velho Binns falar sobre a história do uso de varinhas pelos bruxos europeus, todos na sala de aula começaram a adormecer lentamente, exceto dois estudantes que ficaram acordados. Um desses garotos era o notório Ollie Potter, filho do famoso mago do mundo bruxo, Harry Potter, que atualmente estava se concentrando bastante em uma nova peça em seu caderno de desenho. O outro aluno muito bem acordado era Angel, o sonserino com mechas turquesas nos cabelos brancos que caíam sobre parte do rosto. Ele só conseguiu resistir à tentação de dormir, apenas para admirar o garoto da Corvinal enquanto ele desenhava.

Angel olhou para Ollie com uma expressão de desejo desesperado - ele não podia olhar para aquele garoto de outra maneira.

– Nada vai acontecer se você apenas olhar para ele, você sabe. – Lian, que deveria estar dormindo, estava acordado e observava o modo como olhava para Ollie. – Você ainda não o convidou para um encontro?

– Não é tão simples, Jardine. – Angel sussurrou para Lian, que levantou a cabeça levemente. – Vou perguntar a ele hoje depois da aula.

– Não acredito que o confiante e destemido Angelo Lancaster tem medo de pedir um encontro a um garoto. – zombou Lian.

– Cale a boca, Jardine. Se você continuar me provocando, não hesitarei em lançar Silêncio em você. – Angel sibilou de volta.

O professor Binns encerrou sua palestra tediosa sobre Ollivaras ser o mais antigo comerciante de varinhas da Grã-Bretanha. Angel pegou apressadamente um pedaço de pergaminho e rabiscou rapidamente.

Ei, Potter!

Encontre-me no Three Broomsticks no sábado às 14:00.

A. Lancaster.

– Uau, você é tão romântico, Lancaster. – disse Lian sarcasticamente enquanto lia o convite.

– Calma, Jardine!

Angel dobrou o pergaminho na forma de um pequeno avião de papel e, com um aceno de sua varinha, o pequeno avião de papel voou da mão de Angel e pousou graciosamente na frente de Ollie. Parecendo surpreso, ele pegou o avião e o desdobrou, lendo a mensagem. Ollie olhou de olhos arregalados para Angel, que respondeu com seu sorriso confiante e uma piscadela, o rubor tomou conta das bochechas de Ollie quase que instantaneamente e ele baixou os olhos de volta para o caderno de desenho, evitando o olhar de Angel.

O garoto sonserino sentiu seu coração palpitar, ele acreditava que Ollie o ignorara. Com um olhar frustrado, ele olhou para Lian, que apenas deu de ombros em resposta.

Quando a aula finalmente terminou, Angel estava determinado a falar com Ollie pessoalmente. Ele respirou fundo para se acalmar antes de se aproximar de Ollie, que ainda rabiscava em seu caderno de desenho, mas quando viu Angel, fechou-o rapidamente.

– Ei Potter, então o que você diz?

Angel sorriu confiante para Ollie, que abraçou o caderno com força. Com as bochechas coradas, ele desviou o olhar e gaguejou.

– Eu ... eu ... eu tenho que ir, desculpe.

Ollie virou-se e saiu correndo da sala parecendo muito ansioso e envergonhado. Angel levantou a mão na tentativa de tentar detê-lo, mas desistiu e olhou para o chão, desanimado. Lian, que testemunhou tudo, se aproximou de Angel.

– Parabéns Lancaster, você conseguiu afugentar o garoto. – disse Lian com uma sobrancelha levantada.

– Oh sim? O que você sugere, então? – perguntou Angel, cruzando os braços.

– Seja mais gentil com ele, se você quiser convidá-lo para um encontro, não agindo como se estivesse procurando um boné vermelho. – Lian tirou uma mecha de cabelo do rosto e continuou falando com indiferença. – Eu sei que ele gosta de balas de hortelã e adora desenhar.

– Balas de hortelã e algo relacionado ao desenho...?

– E eu sei que Angelo Lancaster tem que estar confiante e indiferente vinte e quatro horas, mas tente não assustá-lo, bobo.

Lian riu da cara de Angel e o socou levemente no braço antes de sair da sala de aula. Quando Angel estava saindo da sala de aula, um corvo branco voou pelo corredor e pousou em seu ombro. O belo animal carregava um pedaço de pergaminho dobrado no bico e estendeu para o garoto. Assim que Angel o pegou, o pássaro voou pelo corredor, desaparecendo de vista. Ao desdobrar o jornal, ele viu que era o bilhete que enviara a Ollie, mas logo abaixo havia uma resposta escrita com uma letra minúscula e elegante:

Ângelo.

Vemo-nos em Três Vassouras.

Ollie.

Angel não pôde deixar de sorrir com a resposta de Ollie, nem tudo estava perdido, ele teve a chance de impressionar o garoto que ele gostava.

------O------O------O------O------O------

The invitation

A story by Slytherin Angel

As the students listened to old Binns drone on about the history of the usage of wands by European wizards, everyone in the classroom slowly started to fall asleep, except for two students who stayed wide awake. One of these boys was the notorious Ollie Potter, son of famous wizard of the wizarding world, Harry Potter, who was currently concentrating hard on a new piece in his sketchbook. The other very wide-awake student was Angel, the Slytherin with turquoise streaks in his white hair that fell over part of his face. He only managed to resist the temptation of sleep, just to admire the Ravenclaw boy while he was drawing.

Angel looked at Ollie with an expression of hopeless longing – he couldn't look at that boy any other way.

"Nothing will happen if you just look at him, you know." Lian who was supposed to be sleeping, was awake and watching the way he looked at Ollie. "You still haven't asked him out on a date?"

"It's not that simple, Jardine," Angel whispered to Lian who raised her head slightly. "I'll ask him today after class."

"I cannot believe that the confident and fearless Angelo Lancaster, is afraid to ask a boy for a date," Lian scoffed.

"Shut up, Jardine. If you keep provoking me, I won't hesitate to cast Silencio on you," Angel hissed back.

Professor Binns ended his tedious lecture about Ollivander being Britain's oldest wand merchant. Angel hastily took a piece of parchment, and scribbled quickly.

Hey, Potter!

Meet me at Three Broomsticks on Saturday at 2 pm.

A. Lancaster.

"Wow, you are so romantic, Lancaster," said Lian sarcastically as she read the invitation.

"Quiet, Jardine!"

Angel folded the parchment in the shape of a small paper plane and with a wave of his wand, the small paper plane flew out of Angel's hand and landed gracefully in front of Ollie. Looking surprised, he took the plane and unfolded it, reading the message. Ollie looked wide-eyed at Angel, who responded with his confident smile and a wink, the blush took over Ollie's cheeks almost instantly and he lowered his eyes back to his sketchbook, avoiding Angel's gaze.

The Slytherin boy felt his heart twinge, he believed that Ollie had ignored him. With a frustrated look, he looked at Lian who just shrugged in response.

When the class finally ended, Angel was determined to speak to Ollie in person. He took a deep breath to calm himself down before approaching Ollie who was still doodling in his sketchbook, but when he saw Angel, he closed it quickly.

"Hey Potter, so what do you say?"

Angel smiled confidently at Ollie, who hugged the sketchbook tightly. With flushed cheeks, he looked away and stammered.

"I… I… I have to go, sorry."

Ollie turned and ran out of the room looking very anxious and embarrassed. Angel raised his hand in an attempt to try to stop him, but gave up and looked at the floor dejectedly. Lian, who witnessed everything, approached Angel.

"Congratulations Lancaster, you managed to chase the boy away," Lian said with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? What do you suggest, then?" asked Angel, crossing his arms.

"Be kinder to him, if you want to invite him for a date, not acting like you want to hunt for a red cap." Lian took a lock of hair from his face and continued talking nonchalantly, "I know that he likes peppermint candy and he loves to draw."

"Peppermint candies and something related to drawing...?"

"And I know that Angelo Lancaster has to be confident and indifferent twenty-four hours, but try not to scare him, silly."

Lian laughed at Angel's face and punched him lightly in the arm before leaving the classroom. As Angel was leaving the classroom, a white crow flew down the hall and landed on his shoulder. The beautiful animal carried a piece of parchment folded in its beak and held it out to the boy. As soon as Angel picked it up, the bird flew through the corridor, disappearing from view. Unfolding the paper, he saw that it was the note he had sent to Ollie, but just below it was an answer written in tiny, neat handwriting:

Angelo.

See you at Three Broomsticks.

Ollie.

Angel couldn't help but smile at Ollie's answer – not all was lost, he had a chance to impress the boy he liked.

------O------O------O------O------O------

Angel, finalmente criou coragem para chamar Ollie para um encontro, mas sua atitude determinada acabou afastando-o, mas parece que Ollie ainda sim, resolveu aceitar o convite de Angel. Como será que Angel vai lidar com isso?

Com a participação de Lian Jardine (Corvinal) – @moontii23

------O------O------O------O------O------

Angel finally found the courage to ask Ollie for a date, but his determined attitude ended up driving him away, but it seems that Ollie still decided to accept Angel's invitation. How will Angel deal with this?

Will be performing Lian Jardine (Ravenclaw) - @ moontii23

[egygizdanaploja]

nagyon szeretnék írni. de túl sokan látják. túl sokan láthatják a gondolataim. egy regényíró ezt hogy tudja elviselni? kiadják a könyvét, és jobb esetben sokan kedvelik, rengeteg emberhez eljut. hogy tudja bárki elviselni, hogy ennyire lecsupaszítsák, hogy vadidegenek ismerhessék meg a lelke legeldugottabb szegleteit? ha egyszer megírom azt a nagy könyvet, biztos, hogy álnéven fogom publikálni. soha senki ne tudja meg, hogy az az én lényemet fedi fel.

mondom ezt most, de biztos nem így lesz. már ugye akkor lehet szó erről, ha egyáltalán valaha írok egy könyvet. ki tudja.

szóval szeretnék írni. de nem megy. nincsenek gondolataim.  és mégis túl sok minden történik egyszerre a fejemben. ha hagyom.

ha engedek a kalandozásnak. az ábrándozásnak. a mélázásnak.

ha fiam lesz, béla lesz.

csak viccelek.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Villainous Heroics - Chapter 15

Woo! This took so much longer than I wanted it to where midterms hit hard. Here we are, though, with Chapter 15. There's three more chapters left after this, so the story will be wrapping up shortly. Don't despair, however! I have "end game" drabbles planned for this series as well as two spin-offs that deal with mind sharing and body swapping. That's right, readers, we are FAR from done!

Enjoy!

               Click here to read the work on Archive Of Our Own.

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                            ⍣ I have a Patreon! NOW UPDATED!!⍣                              ☪ I have a tip jar! Buy me a coffee!☪

Summary: Eraserhead is an underground hero who is constantly busy and doesn’t have time to be dealing with new villains - even if they aren’t all that villainous and make the night interesting.

Present Mic is the latest up-and-coming villain in the world and he has a point to prove to everyone out there - as long as he doesn’t keep getting distracted by Eraserhead.

Aizawa Shota is someone who soon learns that there is more to someone than the mask they show to the world - especially when it comes to playing heroes and villains.

Yamada Hizashi learns that there is more to heroics and villainy than he could have ever thought - especially in a world where some heroes still care about those lost in the shadows.

(Inspired and dedicated to corndog-patrol’s Villain!Mic AU on Tumblr.)

            <<First/Chapter>> <<Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

                                           Chapter Fifteen

Halfheartedly scribbling a thumbs-up on Ashido’s latest test paper where she had achieved a low B, Shouta glanced at his phone as it started vibrating for the fifteenth time that hour. Considering his contact list was five names long, he could safely narrow it down to the only person who would find the need to text multiple messages in a row instead of confining her words into a single text box like a sane person.

‘Eraser!!!’ ‘When were you going to tell me that Present Mic was a hero?!?!?!’ ‘He just saved me and my sidekick a bunch of trouble!!!’ ‘He’s so great too!!!’ ‘He’s really a SCREAM!!’ ‘Lol but no seriously when were you going to tell me??’ ‘ERASER HE HELPED BANDAGE MY SIDEKICKS ARM AND GAVE HER A PIECE OF CANDY’ ‘IT WASN’T POISONED CANDY EITHER’ ‘OI ERASER CAN YOU HEAR ME???’ ‘He told me to tell you hi by the way he’s so cute’ ‘Really tho is he licensed?? When did that happen??’ ‘Ah he’s leaving now but seriously check the news it’ll probably be on there.’ ‘Did you delete my number again?? It’s me!! Ms Joke!! Your fiance!!’ ‘erASER’ ‘Tell Nem I said hi’

Exhausting. Joke was utterly exhausting and Shouta regretted every day that he hadn’t killed Nemuri for giving her his number. Moving to turn his phone off, Shouta frowned as it started ringing with an annoying American song that Nemuri had chosen for herself years ago. He almost let it go to voicemail before he decided he didn’t want to deal with her in person.

“What do you want, Nemuri?” Shouta answered, pushing himself up from where he had been working at the kotatsu for the past few hours. It was really showing he hadn’t moved in a while, he mused.

“I thought you said Present Mic wasn’t a vigilante?” Right. Joke had been talking about a fight that Present Mic had showed up to help out on.

“He wasn’t last time I saw him. What happened?” Shouta shuffled to the kitchen, smiling softly as he deftly avoided Jelly’s playful jumps and nudges against his ankles.

“Joke and that new sidekick of hers, Bullseye, were having some problems with a mutation quirk villain. Some sort of large animal with a lot of teeth and not that good at laughing.”

“Not good for Joke,” Shouta muttered, frowning as he checked his coffee pot, wrinkling his nose at the cold dregs left behind. He’d need to brew some more.

“No, not good for Joke. They were waiting for backup when your vigilante came on the scene and took care of the guy. Five minutes and he was down.”

“Sounds about right. Why are you calling me, then?” Flicking his phone to be on speaker, Shouta started a fresh pot, eying Jelly’s food bowl. He could probably give her at least another half scoop for the night.

“Because you said he was still a villain last time we talked!” Snorting at that, Shouta picked his phone back up, collapsing at the kitchen table.

“He probably still thinks he is.” Really, though… Yamada hadn’t been a villain for a very long time. After their talk the other night at the man’s apartment, Shouta was almost certain that Yamada had never been a villain. He was far too kind for that.

“He keeps saving people! That’s the opposite of a villain!” Stifling a laugh against his fist, Shouta listened to Nemuri’s ranting and complaining as he kept an ear out for the quiet sounds of a happy cat and a brewing coffee pot and thought about the ‘villain’ that was Present Mic, or, rather, the hero that was Present Mic. Shouta had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last they heard of the new vigilante and hero.

Two weeks later proved him more right than he was expecting. In two weeks Present Mic had teamed up with Nemuri for a raid that had gotten out of control, aided Kamui Woods with a building evacuation during a fire, bonded scarily well with Mt. Lady during a bomb threat, and had even managed to work together with Endeavour of all people. Although, Shouta had heard from Nemuri that Endeavour's ears had been ringing for a few days afterwards.

All in all, Present Mic was finally making an impact like he had wanted to, turning the spotlight on him and making sure the media, and by extension their world of heroes and villains, knew just who he was. And yet, here he was, hiding away on the top of a roof like he was scared of being seen.

Landing on the edge of the roof lightly, Shouta hid a sigh in the wraps of his binding cloth as he stepped forward, letting his footsteps be heard. He knew Yamada knew it was him when the man didn’t even tense or look back. Not sure what to say, Shouta finally settled on something that he at least knew would get a response. “How goes the day, hero?”

The laugh was dry and brittle, an inch away from snapping as much as Yamada was. The man still responded, though, tilting his head to look back at him, “Shouldn’t it be night?”

“Probably,” Shouta said softly as he gave a twitch of a smile at Yamada before moving to take a seat beside him, still marveling on how a man as loud and outspoken as Present Mic had such a common name. Then again, after speaking with him in his civilian life, he supposed it made more sense. Yamada Hizashi seemed scared to speak louder than a whisper. “You know, typically heroes stick around to do the paperwork that comes with the work you’ve been doing.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not a hero, then.” The words were clipped, short, and to the point. Shouta believed them as much as Yamada seemed to. “I know what you’re going to say and I’m not changing my mind. I’m not… I’m not some hero.”

“No,” Shouta finally sighed, looking down over the city that spread out around them. From the building they were on it felt like they could see their entire world awash in cool blacks and bright neon lights. “You’re not.” Shouta hated how, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yamada relax. “But you could be.”

For once, Yamada didn’t have a quick response or a sharp denial ready. Instead he looked towards the night sky, hints of stars just barely peeking past the light pollution of the night. Silence settled around them, but Shouta noticed it wasn’t a comfortable silence. It wasn’t upsetting, to any degree, but… there was tension.

Shouta finally sighed, fingertips curling around the sleeve edge of Yamada’s leather jacket, giving it a light tug. The man didn’t move, but Shouta knew he had his attention as he asked, “What are you doing, Mic?”

“I… thought I could help. People, good people, were at the risk of getting hurt on all those occasions. I thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe I could at least make sure no one died. I thought I could help-”

“You did help.” Did he really not see that? After all of this, did he really not see that he was doing good? “Joke told me how you helped her and her new sidekick. It could have been a lot worse. Nemuri won’t stop bugging me to get your phone number for her, half the other pros thought you were a new hero, and Endeavour is still absolutely pissed - which, if you ask me, is always the mark of a good hero.”

His last line, just like he had hoped, had Yamada giving a startled laugh. Tension seemed to drain out of both of them, Shouta feeling a shoulder press against his own. He didn’t move away. Instead, he sat calmly, relaxing at the swath of warmth until he heard Yamada suck in a shaking breath, “I’m supposed to be the villain, Eraser.” Eraser? Ah, right. Yamada didn’t know that Shouta knew who he was - both parts of him.

“Is that what you really think? Or is that what you’ve been told to think?” Because Shouta had a theory that Yamada wasn’t a villain by choice. He had started all of this to help people in his own way, after all. A man like that could never be a villain. “You keep saying your quirk was dangerous… Who told you that?”

Just as he suspected. Yamada was tense against his side once more, wound up and tightly coiled as if ready to cut his losses and run. It was almost cute that Yamada thought Shouta would ever let him leave. Maybe that wasn’t the right question to ask, though. Maybe the better question…

“Why have you been helping the pros, Mic?” If he was so dead set on being a villain, why help? “A villain would have taken advantage and taken them all down. You stopped and helped. Why?”

It felt like an eternity, but finally, finally, Yamada let out a shaking, wobbling sigh. It was a sound that was a step above a sob and Shouta wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that he wanted nothing more than to draw Yamada over and hug him. He was getting too soft.

“Mic.” Biting his lip, Shouta pushed his embarrassment aside and slowly moved a hand up, freezing for a few seconds before setting his fingertips against Yamada’s cheek and carefully pressing until he had the man finally looking at him. Yamada looked like he was shaking to pieces and Shouta didn’t stop to think before he pressed his palm against Yamada’s cheek, thumb rubbing against soft, smooth skin. “Why are you helping, Mic?”

There was a single moment where Shouta thought Yamada would jerk away and bolt. That moment passed, however, and Shouta shivered as he felt Yamada completely relax and lean into his touch as if he was starved for it. Distracted as he was, Shouta almost missed the words Mic said next.

“Someone important to me told me that I could be a hero.” The words were whisper soft - a secret that he knew Shouta would protect. “I think he might have been right.”

                                                          ::

Shouta had never lied. He knew that Yamada Hizashi could be a great hero, but that didn’t mean he could ignore the truth. Yamada had grown up on rough streets and knew how to fight both with and without his quirk - which was powerful on its own. He hadn’t been trained as a pro, though.

There were some pros that didn’t go to a school specialized in hero training, yes, but that meant they usually served out internships and acted as sidekicks until they had the knowledge and experience they needed to go forward. Some sidekicks spent over a decade learning from pros, and even a new pro had the force of an agency behind them. Hell, Shouta himself worked for an agency and he was underground.

Yamada had none of that. He had no idea what the common strategies or signals were, he had never been trained to keep calm in mentally taxing situations, and he no doubt had only ever interacted with panicking civilians briefly. There was also the fact that he had never been trained to deal with real villains.

Present Mic fought thugs and gangs and kept the streets safer, but he didn’t deal with smuggling rings, quirk black markets, and hostage threats. Present Mic should never have been near a raid for an underground market that dealt in trading children with promising and powerful quirks. It was too dangerous - for him and everyone else involved in the scene.

It was all well and good to call him a hero, but that did not make him a pro. At best he was a vigilante and at worst he was an idiot who was trying to get himself killed.

“Mic!” The busy and upscale neighborhood (which hadn’t that been terrifying to know this was all taking place in somewhere considered safe) was filled with nosy civilians, handcuffed villains, crying and screaming children, and the wailing of sirens. Shouta could barely hear himself think in the mess, but he knew Yamada could hear him. Yamada always heard him. “You are not just walking off after all of that! You can barely walk!”

This raid had been dangerous from the start, but, as was the case these days, they had underestimated their opponents. While all the children had been rescued and were still alive and breathing, Yamada and half of the smugglers had almost died when the man had brought down the building to keep them from escaping. Shouta himself had barely gotten out and it had taken over an hour to dig everyone out. Yamada had been lucky that he was still alive!

“You could’ve died from a stunt like that! Are you even listening to me?!” Yamada was bruised, bleeding, and limping, his glasses having been cracked during the initial crumbling of the building.

“So what if I die? You wouldn’t care. I’m a villain - and a piss poor one at that.” Yamada had spun around to meet his approach, fist clenched around his broken sunglasses as he stared at Shouta with tear-filled eyes. Shouta wasn’t sure if it was the tears that made it feel like the breath was knocked out of him or the fact that Yamada had just said those words so casually. No… he had said them so bitterly. “I give it my all and you still hate me!”

Shouta had failed. If Yamada thought that he hated him after all that had happened, then he had well and truly failed in everything. Yamada looked close to even more tears, voice sounding so defeated as he muttered, “At least let me sulk in peace.”

Shouta was moving before he was even fully aware of it, catching Yamada by the lapels of that stupid leather jacket of his and tugging him close and keeping him from running away. His fingers had gone white with how tight his grip was, but he paid it no mind, instead entirely wrapped up in how their foreheads bumped together, Shouta hearing the hitch in Yamada’s breaths as he slammed his eyes shut, unwilling or unable to meet Shouta’s own gaze. It hurt more than he thought it would. There were a million words he could say, but words had never been Shouta’s strong point, and all he could get out was, “I don’t hate you.”

“So what is it?” Yamada was quick with words like always, but his voice shook as if expecting the fall that was about to come. “What’s wrong with me?” Shouta was so tired of Yamada thinking he was worthless. He was tired of Yamada thinking that Shouta would ever let him fall. “Why all the rejections?”

Shouta was bad with words. He always had been. There had been a hundred situations where Shouta had destroyed or ruined something because he had said the wrong words. He was determined to not let that happen with this man. So instead of words that would fumble and fall flat, Shouta tightened his grip on Yamada’s jacket before pushing himself forward, lips slotting themselves against ones that were chapped and dry. The silly man probably bit his lip every moment he grew nervous.

For a moment the lips against his were still and unmoving and Shouta felt his heart drop. There was no way he had read all of this wrong. Present Mic had flirted from the start, but Yamada Hizashi had stared at him with eyes that were filled with the same emotion Shouta had constantly been feeling around him.

When he felt hands curl into his jumpsuit and pull him closer, lips pressing hard and messy against his, Shouta realized he shouldn’t have even bothered to worry.

Pulling back, because even a moment like this needed a few words, Shouta bit his lip as he looked at Yamada’s face, still bruised and dirty from the raid, but flushed with pink and holding wide green eyes that practically shone.

“If I hated you,” Shouta near whispered, “I wouldn’t have bothered putting up with all of your stupid hijinks.”

“Oh!” The exclamation was quirk strong, Shouta not giving Yamada the chance to apologize before he was pressing forward again, lips finding Yamada’s as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Yamada didn’t hesitate, this time.

Shouta would be lying if he said he hadn’t pictured this moment before. He tried not to, but when the thoughts slipped in they usually revolved around adrenaline and something fast and rough and more about actions than words. This… wasn’t.

The kiss stayed hard for only a moment before Shouta felt hands cupping his cheeks, calloused fingers resting against him and a rough thumb pressing into the scar under his eye, dragging against it like he had after the USJ incident.

Shouta wanted to know those hands. He wanted to know each dip and curve and he wanted to know what had caused each scar and callous. Shouta could spend hours kissing his way across each inch of skin, giving the man all the contact and attention he had so obviously been starved of.

He had to have been starved of touch. It was in the way Yamada clung to him like he was afraid Shouta would pull away and never return. It was in how he pushed forward with the same amount of force he pushed back, arching into the hand that Shouta had pressed against the back of his head, keeping him close.

It wasn’t rough and fast and hard, though. It may have started like that, but Shouta was becoming lost far too quickly as Yamada curled into him like he belonged there, lips moving slowly and assuredly against his, a hint of teeth pressing against his own lower lip that had Shouta shivering and fighting back any sort of noise. Yamada didn’t have the same concern, a low, soft moan leaving him when Shouta’s fingers dug against the man’s scalp.

Slowly remembering that they were in the middle of a raid scene and they were both sore and injured, Shouta carefully pulled back, almost going right back when he saw Yamada staring at him with a flushed and dazed expression.

“Come on, hero,” Shouta mumbled, indulging enough to let himself press his lips to the edge of Yamada’s jaw, skin smooth and soft as he returned the favor from so long ago and flicked at the skin with the tip of his tongue. The noise Yamada gave had Shouta swallowing roughly as he pulled away again. “Let’s get you patched up.”

“Promise not to let go?” Yamada’s voice was rough and low and nothing at all like the smooth, high tones he had as Present Mic. It had Shouta tightening his grip more than he thought possible.

“I won’t.”

                                                           ::

“How hard would it be to have an adult get a pro hero license?” Shouta kept his expression perfectly blank and even, laid back as ever as he watched Nemuri cycle through at least eight different expressions in the middle of the staff room. When her face finally settled on a sharp smirk, though, Shouta wondered how fast he could get away.

“This is for Present Mic, I take it?” Nemuri’s voice was a purr and Shouta hated her. He still gave a single, sharp nod, however. “Well, well, it looks like my little Shou-chan finally found love! Ah, they grow up so fast!”

Shouta kept silent and, by the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. Nemuri was staring at him with sharp, narrowed eyes. Shouta stared back evenly, trying not to show any fear. She could no doubt sense it.

“Shou-chan,” Nemuri cooed, voice light and sweet and containing all the horrors of the world. “When I said you found love, that’s usually when you correct me and tell me how wrong I am.” Right. There were many ways to do this.

“There’s no use in correcting you when you aren’t wrong.” In hindsight, Shouta should have expected the squeal. “Are you going to help me with this or not?”

“Of course I am!” As usual, Nemuri didn’t seem put off by his sharp voice and sharper glare at all. “Oh you’ll have to tell me all about it. Did you two finally admit to your feelings?”

“Sure.” In truth, there hadn’t been much time. The raid had been a few nights ago and Yamada had been absolutely exhausted after having an EMT on the scene use a minor healing quirk on the worst of his injuries. Shouta had followed to make sure he got home alright, but they hadn’t had a chance to talk about… what had happened. Yamada had whispered that he would see him soon, though, before leaving, and that was more than enough. “Here’s the paperwork I’ve managed to gather so far.”

“You can leave it all to me, Shou-chan!” Nemuri grabbed the paperwork, near spinning in circles she looked so happy. Shouta had the urge to tie her up and shove her away in a closet for a few days. “I’ve witnessed a true miracle! Not only is my sweet Shouta in love, but his feelings are returned!”

“You’re lucky I still need you alive.” Shouta hated to admit it, but Nemuri was far better with loopholes and paperwork than he was. Besides, this was important. He wanted to have all the paperwork ready when he finally sat Yamada down and truly talked to him about all of this. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I have things to do.”

“Right, right, go train your secret love child,” Nemuri waved off, suddenly pausing and going completely still. Shouta was already reaching for his binding cloth as Nemuri looked at him with wide eyes. “Does Mic know you have a son?”

“I am going to skin you alive and feed you to my cat,” Shouta hissed, refusing to admit any heat in his cheeks. “I do not have a son.”

“Yet.” Turning on his heel, he decided that ignoring Nemuri was the best thing he could do. “Boo, no fun. I’ll get the paperwork to you later!”

Pausing at the door, Shouta glanced back and gave a small nod before deciding that he could be cruel, too. “Mic and Shinsou have already met. He seemed delighted that I ‘had a son.’” With that, Shouta left the lounge and closed the door, smiling a little to himself as Nemuri’s pleas and whines for more information.

Heading to the indoor gym he had been spending most of his afternoons in, Shouta peeked his head in and smiled to himself as he saw Shinsou going through his warm-up routine, focused intently as he moved through his stretches. The kid had come far since that first fight in the festival and Shouta knew without a doubt that he would make it into the hero course.

“I know you’re there, Sensei.” Kid was getting more observational, too. Shouta hated how stupidly proud that made him. “It’s creepy when you just watch, you know.”

“It’s my job to watch.” Striding into the room and over to his student, Shouta helped him to his feet, noticing the look. “You have two minutes.” It had taken months to get Shinsou relaxed enough to talk with him honestly and openly. It had then taken a few minutes to realize he had made a horrible mistake. Once Shinsou was comfortable enough to talk, he didn’t stop. Shouta almost wanted to throw him in a room with Yamada and see which one ran out of words first.

“The new hero Present Mic, huh?” Shinsou had a large grin on his face, Shouta placing a hand on the teen’s head and gently tipping his head down towards the ground. All it did was cause laughter. “Is he still saying he’s a villain?”

“Not for much longer.” Not if Shouta had anything to say about it, at least. “He was never much of a villain to begin with, anyways.”

“I thought he was that night when I first met him.” Oh? That was news to him. “He came striding in like he was one of them and the guys who had me cornered started talking about how he was always fighting against Eraserhead.”

“Well, they weren’t wrong,” Shouta snorted, nudging Shinsou along. “Come on. Second set of stretches.”

“I don’t think I was afraid of him even when I heard that, though.” Shinsou kept talking even as he began the next set of stretches, Shouta shucking off his capture weapon and joining him. “He was glaring, but he was glaring at the one that was holding that muzzle-”

“Muzzle?” Shouta stumbled out of his own stretch, eyes snapping to Shinsou. He silently conceded to Nemuri that he might have grown a touch attached when he had the immediate urge to check the kid over and make sure he was alright after an event that had happened months ago.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you that part?” Shinsou blinked, looking entirely nonplussed. “They were talking about how I’d fetch a nice price.” The fact he could say that with such a detached tone had Shouta feeling even more worry. He didn’t much like it. “He played them all, though. Present Mic.”

“Let me guess. He got rid of the muzzle and then screamed at them until they passed out?” Because he remembered the state those men had been in when Shouta had come across the scene.

“He took the muzzle and fooled them into thinking that he was helping and that he was going to put it on me himself,” Shinsou recounted, tongue poking out as he focused on a pose he always had problems with. Shouta was nudging him into the correct position almost absently, Shinsou flashing him a smile. “He had them all fooled even as he dropped that muzzle and put his headphones on me instead.”

“That sounds like him,” Shouta snorted, remembering that night clearly, now, and how Yamada had been without his headphones when Shouta had found him. “He’s not all that intimidating once you see that stupid smile of his.”

“Yeah. He had me hide behind the dumpster and reassured me the whole time. He made it seem like he was on their side right until he took them down.” Shinsou stood up from his stretch, entering a more relaxed one as he stretched his arms up, a small crack coming from his back. “He’s a pretty amazing hero when you think about it.”

“Vigilante, you mean?” Shouta glanced down to see Shinsou’s smile, wide and honest as he shook his head.

“No. I meant hero.” Shinsou laughed as Shouta rolled his eyes, fighting to hide a smile. Shinsou was right, though. Yamada truly was an amazing hero. A hero that… deserved to know the truth.

Next time. Next time they spoke, Shouta would tell Present Mic he knew exactly who he was and he and Yamada Hizashi could sit down and figure things out. It wasn’t going to be easy - not by any stretch of the imagination - but Shouta had a good feeling about where it was going to go from here.

It was time for Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi to be more than just Eraserhead and Present Mic.

[moth-to-a-flame-ffxiv]

Character Habits

Tagged by: @grump-qote

Tagging: @ayselistarreader, @elegant-etienne (for Adi!), @aalriya-rose, @degeneratemagicalcatgirl, @oleandre-ffxiv, @aurelle-ffxiv, @elezendad, @quinlan-xiv, @doctornhaviri, @fheylahaken, @xevtan, @anuspancake, @savothesewercat, @baien-tatakai-ffxiv, @insaniteitime, @brokenbutwhy, @melisie-ffxiv, @secretsmokeandmirrors, @ijazrahalffxiv, @belovedbartender, @floating-city-of-nem, @skycatrhaz, @tessariel-aerlinn, @sky-dandy, @theqoipond, @analeil-ffxiv, @auliander-ffxiv, @meowmonk, @swordandpen, @rolanberryshortcake, @juste-xiv, @paradymeshift, @roegadamn, @peacefulautumnsworld, @mihookochi, @fair-fae, @thedarkestknightxiv, @a-realm-reblogged, @rhalgr, @meandering-mind, @sigsdigsintothebrigs, @lance-of-fury, @sedatayuun, @videra, and anyone else that’d like to do this!

Characters under the cut! There’s three of them (to make up for the delay..? [nervous laugh into the abyss]), so I tried sparing the post itself from being too long. H’oh geez.

Template Used: 

Bold all of your character’s regular truths & Italicize occasional / uncommon actions!

1. Smoking: the action or habit of inhaling and exhaling the smoke of tobacco or a drug. 2. Binge drinking: the consumption of an excessive amount of alcohol in a short period of time. 3. Drug abuse: the habitual taking of illegal drugs. 4. Nail biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 5. Lip biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 6. Night Owl: a person who is habitually active or wakeful at night. 7. Early bird: a person who rises, arrives, or acts before the usual or expected time. 8. Negative attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with criticism and pessimism. 9. Positive attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with optimism and confidence. 10. Swearing: the use of offensive language. 11. Superstitious: an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome. 12. Inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom. 13. Scratching your neck: a common body language sign of uncertainty. 14. Foot and finger tapping: a common body language sign of stress/impatience. 15. Nose touch: a subtle body language sign of deceit. 16. Flipping hair: a common body language sign of craving attention. 17. Twirling hair: a common body language sign of flirtation. 18. Cracking knuckles: a common body language sign of readiness. 19. Hands behind back: a common body language sign of confidence. 20. Finger pointing: a common body language sign of authority. 21. Hands on hips: a common body language sign of readiness. 22: Hands in pockets: a common body language sign of mistrust/reluctance. 23. Frequent touch: a common body language sign of warmth/familiarity. 24. Throat-clearing: a common body language sign of rejection/doubt. 25: Jaw-clenching: a common body language sign of hostility. 26: Eye-rolling: a common body language sign of irritation. 27: Head-tilt: a common body language sign of interest. 28. Whistling: to emit high-pitched sound by forcing breath through a small hole between one’s lips or teeth; usually to a tune. 29. Humming: make a low, steady continuous sound like that of a bee; usually to a tune. 30. Perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection. 31. Photographic memory: the ability to remember information or visual images in great detail. 32. Paranoia: a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically worked into an organized system. 33. Exaggeration: a statement that represents something as better or worse than it really is. 34: Intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. 35: Quick-witted: showing or characterized by an ability to think or respond quickly and effectively. 36: Interrupting: breaking the continuity of a conversation with one’s own statements. 37: Doodling: to scribble or make rough drawings, absent-mindedly. 38: Irritable: having or showing a tendency to be easily annoyed. 39: Gambling: to play games of chance for money; bet. 40: Travel-sick: suffering from nausea caused by the motion of a moving vehicle, boat, or aircraft. 41: Sensitive: having or displaying a quick and delicate appreciation of others’ feelings. 42: Melancholy: a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. 43: Chewing gum: the exercise of chewing flavored gum which is not intended for swallowing. 44: Fidgeting: to make small movements, especially of the hands and feet, through nervousness or impatience. 45: Skeptical: not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations. 46: Neat-freak: compulsively obsessed with cleanliness. 47: Gossiping: divulging personal information about others. 48: Prim: feeling or showing disapproval of anything regarded as improper; stiffly correct. 49: Abbreviating: Giving others nicknames/shortening names/giving pet names. 50: Having a catchphrase: having a sentence or phrase typically associated with a specific person.

Fumio Aogane

Bold all of your character’s regular truths & Italicize occasional / uncommon actions!

1. Smoking: the action or habit of inhaling and exhaling the smoke of tobacco or a drug. 2. Binge drinking: the consumption of an excessive amount of alcohol in a short period of time. 3. Drug abuse: the habitual taking of illegal drugs. 4. Nail biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 5. Lip biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 6. Night Owl: a person who is habitually active or wakeful at night. 7. Early bird: a person who rises, arrives, or acts before the usual or expected time. 8. Negative attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with criticism and pessimism. 9. Positive attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with optimism and confidence. 10. Swearing: the use of offensive language. 11. Superstitious: an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome. 12. Inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom. 13. Scratching your neck: a common body language sign of uncertainty. 14. Foot and finger tapping: a common body language sign of stress/impatience. 15. Nose touch: a subtle body language sign of deceit. 16. Flipping hair: a common body language sign of craving attention. 17. Twirling hair: a common body language sign of flirtation. 18. Cracking knuckles: a common body language sign of readiness. 19. Hands behind back: a common body language sign of confidence. 20. Finger pointing: a common body language sign of authority. 21. Hands on hips: a common body language sign of readiness. 22: Hands in pockets: a common body language sign of mistrust/reluctance. 23. Frequent touch: a common body language sign of warmth/familiarity. 24. Throat-clearing: a common body language sign of rejection/doubt. 25: Jaw-clenching: a common body language sign of hostility. 26: Eye-rolling: a common body language sign of irritation. 27: Head-tilt: a common body language sign of interest. 28. Whistling: to emit high-pitched sound by forcing breath through a small hole between one’s lips or teeth; usually to a tune. 29. Humming: make a low, steady continuous sound like that of a bee; usually to a tune. 30. Perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection. 31. Photographic memory: the ability to remember information or visual images in great detail. 32. Paranoia: a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically worked into an organized system. 33. Exaggeration: a statement that represents something as better or worse than it really is. 34: Intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. 35: Quick-witted: showing or characterized by an ability to think or respond quickly and effectively. 36: Interrupting: breaking the continuity of a conversation with one’s own statements. 37: Doodling: to scribble or make rough drawings, absent-mindedly. 38: Irritable: having or showing a tendency to be easily annoyed. 39: Gambling: to play games of chance for money; bet. 40: Travel-sick: suffering from nausea caused by the motion of a moving vehicle, boat, or aircraft. 41: Sensitive: having or displaying a quick and delicate appreciation of others’ feelings. 42: Melancholy: a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. 43: Chewing gum: the exercise of chewing flavored gum which is not intended for swallowing. 44: Fidgeting: to make small movements, especially of the hands and feet, through nervousness or impatience. 45: Skeptical: not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations. 46: Neat-freak: compulsively obsessed with cleanliness. 47: Gossiping: divulging personal information about others. 48: Prim: feeling or showing disapproval of anything regarded as improper; stiffly correct. 49: Abbreviating: Giving others nicknames/shortening names/giving pet names. 50: Having a catchphrase: having a sentence or phrase typically associated with a specific person.

Kosaka Urabito

Bold all of your character’s regular truths & Italicize occasional / uncommon actions!

1. Smoking: the action or habit of inhaling and exhaling the smoke of tobacco or a drug. 2. Binge drinking: the consumption of an excessive amount of alcohol in a short period of time. 3. Drug abuse: the habitual taking of illegal drugs. 4. Nail biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 5. Lip biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 6. Night Owl: a person who is habitually active or wakeful at night. 7. Early bird: a person who rises, arrives, or acts before the usual or expected time. 8. Negative attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with criticism and pessimism. 9. Positive attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with optimism and confidence. 10. Swearing: the use of offensive language. 11. Superstitious: an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome. 12. Inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom. 13. Scratching your neck: a common body language sign of uncertainty. 14. Foot and finger tapping: a common body language sign of stress/impatience. 15. Nose touch: a subtle body language sign of deceit. 16. Flipping hair: a common body language sign of craving attention. 17. Twirling hair: a common body language sign of flirtation. 18. Cracking knuckles: a common body language sign of readiness. 19. Hands behind back: a common body language sign of confidence. 20. Finger pointing: a common body language sign of authority. 21. Hands on hips: a common body language sign of readiness. 22: Hands in pockets: a common body language sign of mistrust/reluctance. 23. Frequent touch: a common body language sign of warmth/familiarity. 24. Throat-clearing: a common body language sign of rejection/doubt. 25: Jaw-clenching: a common body language sign of hostility. 26: Eye-rolling: a common body language sign of irritation. 27: Head-tilt: a common body language sign of interest. 28. Whistling: to emit high-pitched sound by forcing breath through a small hole between one’s lips or teeth; usually to a tune. 29. Humming: make a low, steady continuous sound like that of a bee; usually to a tune. 30. Perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection. 31. Photographic memory: the ability to remember information or visual images in great detail. 32. Paranoia: a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically worked into an organized system. 33. Exaggeration: a statement that represents something as better or worse than it really is. 34: Intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. 35: Quick-witted: showing or characterized by an ability to think or respond quickly and effectively. 36: Interrupting: breaking the continuity of a conversation with one’s own statements. 37: Doodling: to scribble or make rough drawings, absent-mindedly. 38: Irritable: having or showing a tendency to be easily annoyed. 39: Gambling: to play games of chance for money; bet. 40: Travel-sick: suffering from nausea caused by the motion of a moving vehicle, boat, or aircraft. 41: Sensitive: having or displaying a quick and delicate appreciation of others’ feelings. 42: Melancholy: a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. 43: Chewing gum: the exercise of chewing flavored gum which is not intended for swallowing. 44: Fidgeting: to make small movements, especially of the hands and feet, through nervousness or impatience. 45: Skeptical: not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations. 46: Neat-freak: compulsively obsessed with cleanliness. 47: Gossiping: divulging personal information about others. 48: Prim: feeling or showing disapproval of anything regarded as improper; stiffly correct. 49: Abbreviating: Giving others nicknames/shortening names/giving pet names. 50: Having a catchphrase: having a sentence or phrase typically associated with a specific person.

Zihji’a Nhikna

Bold all of your character’s regular truths & Italicize occasional / uncommon actions!

1. Smoking: the action or habit of inhaling and exhaling the smoke of tobacco or a drug. 2. Binge drinking: the consumption of an excessive amount of alcohol in a short period of time. 3. Drug abuse: the habitual taking of illegal drugs. 4. Nail biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 5. Lip biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 6. Night Owl: a person who is habitually active or wakeful at night. 7. Early bird: a person who rises, arrives, or acts before the usual or expected time. 8. Negative attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with criticism and pessimism. 9. Positive attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with optimism and confidence. 10. Swearing: the use of offensive language. 11. Superstitious: an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome. 12. Inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom. 13. Scratching your neck: a common body language sign of uncertainty. 14. Foot and finger tapping: a common body language sign of stress/impatience. 15. Nose touch: a subtle body language sign of deceit. 16. Flipping hair: a common body language sign of craving attention. 17. Twirling hair: a common body language sign of flirtation. 18. Cracking knuckles: a common body language sign of readiness. 19. Hands behind back: a common body language sign of confidence. 20. Finger pointing: a common body language sign of authority. 21. Hands on hips: a common body language sign of readiness. 22: Hands in pockets: a common body language sign of mistrust/reluctance. 23. Frequent touch: a common body language sign of warmth/familiarity. 24. Throat-clearing: a common body language sign of rejection/doubt. 25: Jaw-clenching: a common body language sign of hostility. 26: Eye-rolling: a common body language sign of irritation. 27: Head-tilt: a common body language sign of interest. 28. Whistling: to emit high-pitched sound by forcing breath through a small hole between one’s lips or teeth; usually to a tune. 29. Humming: make a low, steady continuous sound like that of a bee; usually to a tune. 30. Perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection. 31. Photographic memory: the ability to remember information or visual images in great detail. 32. Paranoia: a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically worked into an organized system. 33. Exaggeration: a statement that represents something as better or worse than it really is. 34: Intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. 35: Quick-witted: showing or characterized by an ability to think or respond quickly and effectively. 36: Interrupting: breaking the continuity of a conversation with one’s own statements. 37: Doodling: to scribble or make rough drawings, absent-mindedly. 38: Irritable: having or showing a tendency to be easily annoyed. 39: Gambling: to play games of chance for money; bet. 40: Travel-sick: suffering from nausea caused by the motion of a moving vehicle, boat, or aircraft. 41: Sensitive: having or displaying a quick and delicate appreciation of others’ feelings. 42: Melancholy: a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. 43: Chewing gum: the exercise of chewing flavored gum which is not intended for swallowing. 44: Fidgeting: to make small movements, especially of the hands and feet, through nervousness or impatience. 45: Skeptical: not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations. 46: Neat-freak: compulsively obsessed with cleanliness. 47: Gossiping: divulging personal information about others. 48: Prim: feeling or showing disapproval of anything regarded as improper; stiffly correct. 49: Abbreviating: Giving others nicknames/shortening names/giving pet names. 50: Having a catchphrase: having a sentence or phrase typically associated with a specific person.