#so yeah gimme some lizards

[alteredphoenix]

‘Kay, well I picked The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons as my next read because I have had dragons on the melonas mind for the past week and a half (been trying to draw one with little success), let’s see what the dragons are like in this book.

[stanpinesdykewife]

hii! could I request stan/gender neutral reader fluff? maybe something along the lines of what mornings look like together? the direction you take it is absolutely up to you, thanks again YOU’RE AMAZINGGG <3

i got carried away can u tell stan's my favorite. I'M CRAZY!!! i'm crazy. also THANK YOU so much your request is amazing it gave me brainworms!!!!!! under the cut:

mornings together stan/reader (gender neutral) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified fluff, 825 words

“Stan,” you say, nudging his shoulder. He grumbles in his sleep, rolling away from you so you're facing his back. You laugh openly, leaning further over the bed to nudge him again. Your other hand is adjusting your work pants, tugging it up and trying unsuccessfully to do your belt buckle. “Stan, wake up. You're giving me a ride to work, remember?”

“No gas,” he mumbles, pulling his arm away from you. When you poke him again, he raises a hand to wave you away. “Quit it.”

“Stanley.” Your belt is left undone as you shove him with both hands, and finally he rolls over to shoot you a glare. You just grin at him, and his face softens, just a little bit. “You're giving me a ride to work.”

“What genius came up with that idea?” he mutters, but props himself up onto his elbows with a groan. Stan rubs his eyes, some crust clinging to his lashes. His hair is all mussed up and his tank is crooked, one arm hole digging into his armpit and the other coming dangerously close to flashing a nipple. There's some dried drool on his face, from the corner of his mouth to the side of his jaw, and when he stretches his arms over his head, a series of concerning pops and cracks emit from his spine. One thing's for sure: if this were a cartoon, you'd have heart eyes.

“You did, you dork,” you say, the affection painfully clear in your voice. Stan picks the crust out of the corner of his eye and then looks at you, his brows furrowed still. He isn't glaring at you anymore—just needs his glasses. Before you can turn to look for them, he grunts and beckons you closer.

“C'mere. Gimme a kiss,” he grumbles, and you plant both hands on the bed to kiss Stan's cheek. A smile threatens his lips, but he keeps up the grumpy old man act: “What are you, Puritan?”

“I'm not kissing you until you brush your teeth,” you say matter-of-factly. Then, just to make fun, “I dunno where your mouth has been.” Stan quickly switches gears.

“You know where my mouth has been,” he says, the sleaze, and you laugh as a flush crawls up your face. Stan beams at you then, a charming, sleepy grin that makes you giddy. “Say I drive you to work. What's in it for me?”

“Here we go,” you say, rolling your eyes. Your smile cancels out any sass. “You've been awake for less than a minute and you're already hitting on me. You're a real perv, you know that?”

“Oh yeah, baby, love it when you talk dirty,” Stan says, and suddenly tugs at your wrist so you topple over. You faceplant right into his chest, and before you can react, Stan wraps his arms around you and heaves you onto him with little effort. You're laughing the whole way, eventually managing to shove your foot between the mattress and bedframe so you can push yourself up.

“Stan!” you protest, even as you grin into his shirt. Stan manhandles you so you're right on top of him, like a lizard on a log, and he holds you tight to his body with brawny arms.

“Alright. Back to bed. Goodnight,” he says promptly, tucking your head under his chin. He manages to fake one long, loud snore before you start squirming away from him. It's an impossible feat. His grip barely loosens. “Hey, what gives?”

“You're wrinkling my work shirt,” you say, and then squeal when Stan rucks up the back of your shirt like he's going to pull it off.

“Why do you need a shirt, anyway?” he snickers, and you manage to reach behind you to slap his hand away. Stan laughs and finally lets go of you. “Alright, alright!” You push yourself up, hovering over his face. You try to look mad, but you're still smiling.

“Stop fooling around,” you scold him lightly. You know for a fact Stan won't take you seriously, so your heart isn't in it. Still, you bargain, “If I give you a kiss, will you get up?”

“A trade, huh?” Stan doesn't even pretend to think. He tilts his head up at you, smug. “I'll take it.”

“Yeah, you will.” You close your eyes and lean down slightly. When you peek, Stan's closed his eyes, too, readying himself for a kiss. You shift your weight and smack his face lightly, very lightly, then roll straight out of bed and stand up. When Stan sputters, blinking his eyes open to look at you, you laugh in his face. “I'll kiss you when you brush your teeth! You really thought th—Oh, nope, you're getting up now, okay, meet you in the bathroom!”

You dash away, your undone belt buckle slapping against your thigh, your pants falling from your hips a few inches. Stan’s loud laughter follows you down the hall.

notes: HELLO please tell me what you think. (business suit and coffee mug and conference table spawns in) let's talk about him. pookie bear

[the-archangel]

Finally!

We've all waited for it to happen, for weeks and weeks we've hung on, finally it does and V is awestruck - and maybe Johnny is too. Also, it's accidentally exactly 1000 words long and still very little happens!

“It’s 4AM V, go the fuck back to sleep.”

V had been tossing and turning for hours, Johnny could sleep through that, but now he’s (albeit very quietly) talking to someone over the holo and that’s just a step too far.

“Gimme a minute,” the merc whispers softly to whoever is in the other end of the call, “Just fuck off if I’m disturbing your beauty sleep, no one asked you to lurk on the side of my bed.” he hisses to Johnny.

“Where else am I going to go in the middle of the night? Sides, I’ve been looking after your interests.” V looks at the Rockerboy quizzically. “The egg moves…”

V follows Johnny’s eyes over to the other side of the room, it was on the tip of his tongue to ask what new gonkery Johnny had dreamt up to stop him talking to Kerry when he saw it, the egg moved. “I’ll call you back.” he tells his new input and crawls over the bedding to sit next to his imaginary friend. “What’s it doing?” he asks in hushed tones.

“How the fuck should I know?” Johnny replies, “and why are we whispering?”

V shrugs, if he’s honest the stupid egg had been sat in that bowl for so long he’d presumed it was a lost cause, but there it was rattling around the ceramic and making a gentle tapping noise. “How long’s it been, y’know, moving?”

“Couple of hours. Few more and you’ll be living the high life.”

Johnny receives another confused look, “What?”

“Think of the eddies V, there’s idiots who’ll pay through the nose for an iguana.”

They sit staring a little while longer as the egg jumps and skitters around the bowl, “What’s an iguana?”

The exasperated look Johnny gives V is almost audible, “It’s a lizard,” he tells him surprisingly patiently, “mostly found in South America. Though where a low-rent merc like you found it I can’t imagine. Been looking at that thing for months wondering if it was ever going to do something.”

V goes over to the bowl crouching until it’s at eye level and looking with child-like wonder as a tiny crack appears in the shell. “Got it from Yorinobou’s suite at Konpeki Plaza, wasn’t even sure the lizard was real, it was just sitting there like some kind of weird statue. Thought the egg would make a preem souvenir… though it turns out I got more than one of them that day.”

Johnny nods, “Shoulda maybe stopped at the lizard.” He looks at the back of V’s head waiting for a reaction, receiving none he crouches down beside him joining the vigil. “Look, you can see it through the crack.”

Sure enough, movement can be seen through the growing crack, a tiny nibbling action working on expanding the hole and making an escape.

“I used to know a guy in the market in Japantown that traded in exotic shit like this, doubt he’s still there but someone over there’s bound to still do shady lizard related dealings.” V nods in a non-committal way, he’s mesmerised by the newly revealed pink nose poking through the gap with every nibble. “Ten thousand at least,” Johnny continues, “prolly more, if you’re lucky there’s a few gonks out there ready to get into a bidding war for a super-rare dude like this one.”

“Jackie would’ve really loved this,” V murmurs wistfully, “he’d be calling Misty over so they could sit and watch it together thinking of names and picking out tanks.”

“Yeah well, you’ve just got me. Call it Eddie and let someone else do the hard work.”

The two men continue to stare at the slowly dissolving egg, mesmerised by the emerging hatchling. When nothing appears to happen for several seconds the pair exchange worried looks, but the tiny animal is merely taking a breather from its hard work and soon resumes the destruction of its former home. More of its face is revealed, big eyes and bright green skin, a pink tongue helping it gulp down its first meal. V’s face softens, this may be the most magical thing he’s ever witnessed – apart from that one guy who miraculously came back to life after V’s blades cut his head off, but that was more a cyberware malfunction than an actual miracle.

“What do iguanas eat?”

“How the fuck should I know, bugs or some shit. It’ll do just fine in here.”

V considers giving Johnny a dark look for that crack, but he has a point; Nibbles is often noisily wrestling some sort of wildlife in the middle of the night.

“You’re not seriously thinking about keeping it? Think of the eddies!”

Both pair of eyes swing back to the tiny lizard drawn by the sound of the egg shell quietly falling to one side allowing the hatchling to push itself free and lay panting in the detritus. It’s intelligent eyes roam curiously around the room finally focusing on a surprised Johnny who lifts a finger to stroke it’s head. “It can see me!” He marvels as the creature preens under his touch.

“There’s a tank at Jackie’s place we could use,” muses V.

“Nah, this one’s a free spirit. Let it have the run of the place, it can share bug duties with your ugly cat.”

“The ugly cat you spend most of the day murmuring to whilst you’re both curled up on the couch?”

“Only cuz you’re such shit company. Look, it wants to get out of the bowl”

V gently lets the lizard skitter onto his hand and holds it up to look it over. Johnny leans in looking over V’s shoulder and the men have matching smiles as the hatchling’s tail wraps around V’s wrist. “I think I’m gonna call it Jack.” The brown eyes look straight into V’s and seem to approve.

“Yeah, that’s a good name, I’m just gonna, y’know keep an eye on it for while.”

“You do that Johnny.” Says V grinning.

[bishiglomper]

We were supposed to bring some tools/samples of our craft so we could take a header photo. No one else remembered tho pffft

But I brought my jewelry bits and bobs of stuff I experimented with. Was showing the tiny beaded lizard and turtle I made from seed beads and she was like "you could put an earring back on those, I'd take it right now" so I took her up on it!

When we came in she had a handful of Dino stuffies she was working on. I brought nephew in to get him started learning. He went straight to the plushies and played with them.

He said he liked them again later and host said he could have one. So we decided I could pay it back with another project trade or something. She did gimme a few bucks for the earrings so I handed that back. I'm hoping she'll just wanna pick out a handful of earrings from when I bring em in. 👀 I'm thinking Dino is probably worth $30-40? It's what I would expect to see at a stall, soooo....

Yeah that's definitely one of those "pfft I could just make that" but never will so lmao I'm glad he got to have it. Because we're too poor to spend $40 on a crochet doll 😭

[societalenemynumberone]

Author's note: I have been so obsessed with Hazbin Hotel. As soon as the first season finished I ran to Tumblr for fics. So like please send me asks for Hazbin Hotel I need to let my hyper fixation out on something. I am open to writing headcanons

Tw: ???

"Your insecurities are one hundred percent valid and you deserve a break to recuperate for your mental health." Twyla called out from behind the door Rayna locked herself behind. "That being said, I almost risked a deal with the Radio Demon to get you this meeting with the princess of hell. So you better get your ass up and out of bed or I swear to Satan I'll give you a real reason to hide inside your bedroom. You fuc-"

Twyla's threats were then accompanied by her muffled angry screams and banging on the door before forcefully being dragged away. In her place, their soft-spoken assistant, Fleuretta. Because of her adamant fear of talking, she talks to people she's close to through their mind, a power she was granted after death.

"Yes, Ms. Twyla. Of course I'll talk to her Ms. Twyla." She cleared her throat before gently knocking on the door. "Miss Rayna? We all know that we've been through, uhm, as you've said, a "shit-ton" this past month. Your breakup has negatively affected your emotional state and all of this house. But when this negativity starts to negatively affect the business then the house has an even bigger problem."

"You see, Benson and Sebrina have been at each other's throats with all the tension you've been carrying throughout the house the past few weeks. So Twyla and I think it's for the best if you put your emotions to the side for a temporary amount of time so we can attend this meeting with the king."

Rayna sniffled on the other side of the door, wiping the dripping mascara off her cheek. "Yeah- *hic* Yeah I can do that-" She got up and unlocked the door, sticking her head out a bit. "Gimme like 30 minutes, I'll be ready by then."

"You got 10!" Twyla's voice came from down the hall, a flying dress shoe following her words, hitting eerily close to Rayna's poking out head. Rayna rolled her eyes before slamming the door shut, leaving Fleur standing in front of it.

Fleur gave a small huff before going to check on the children, bringing up her tablet to check off "Make Sure Rayna Gets Ready" off her to-do list. When Twyla and Rayna became business partners and moved in together, the kids who they died with were pulled into their mess as well.

Benson, Twyla's teenage little brother, in 1976 he had gotten involved in the gang shit Twyla had to deal with when she was alive. His death was supposed to send a message to his sister. Obviously, it didn't send anything since she came falling into hell a year later.

Then there was Sebrina. Rayna's psychotic little niece. Poor thing was abused by her mother for years before she ran away in 1966 at 7 years old to her Aunt Rayna, who happened to be in a very competitive business. As a thanks for taking her in Sebrina got rid of Rayna's competition through cannibalism. When Rayna found out she wasn't the happiest about it but she covered up the murders for 3 years. Until they were caught in 1969 and shot down by officers for resisting arrest.

Fleur knocked on their shared bedroom door. "Kids? Are you ready?" There was muffled yelling behind the door but nothing like Twyla and Rayna's overly loud constant loud arguing. Fleur sighed before twisting the doorknob, dreading what's on the other side.

Benson was trying to suffocate Sebrina with a pillow, she was obviously trying to fight back but the demon form she was given was short and had thin, small little limbs. These were just some of the attributes Sebrina got from her demon form plus her new bunny qualities.

"Benson! Will you get off of her!" Fleur pulled him off by his tail, a trait from his humanoid lizard form, an animal form he got from dying.

"That freak tried to set me on fire!"

"She is not a freak." Fleur picked the small thing off the floor by her armpits, like a puppy. Before straightening out any wrinkles on the dress Rayna specifically made for her and fluffing up her skirt.

"I did not try to set him on fire." Sebrina folded her arms over her chest, raising her head up, offendedly. "I tried to set his outfit on fire. It's ugly!"

"Oh you 'li-!"

"Benson. Don't." Fleur stopped him before he started, leaving him grumbling as he started to put on his shoes.

"Sebrina, sweetie, people prefer it when you try to burn their clothes while their clothes when they're not on them." Fleur clarified, pulling Sebrina into her jacket.

"Oh no, I know that Miss Fleurey. I just don't like Benny." She sneered at him on his bed.

"Fleur!" Twyla called, stopping the kids from getting into it again. She stepped into the room, wearing a suit with a corset over the shirt and a loose tie. "Rayna ready?"

"Probably not." Fleur handed her her jacket. Before being able to say something else Twyla caught Sebrina's beady eyes staring at her. "What? I don't look nice?" She gave them a quick 360 with a smile.

Sebrina narrowed her eyes. "...You look...nice..."

"Ya look like a pimp." Benson had his eyes on his phone, not even bothering to look up at his sister.

"Don't start with me ya little shit. Now c'mon. I want us all to be sitin' in the living room like we been waitin' for hours. Make her feel all bad 'n shit." She grinned, rushing the others to the living room, banging on Rayna's room door as she passed.

They were in the living room for about an hour before Rayna finally exited her room.

"How do I look?" She grinned, posing like she was on the runway. Her purple hair was put up in a low side bun and she was in a sleeveless turtleneck dress, rhinestones on the criss cross lining that showed off her thighs.

"Great!" Fleur smiled, checking "Get Everyone Together, Ready in the Living Room" off her to-do list.

"I like the rhinestones!" Sebrina awed at the shine on her dress.

"You look like a...a sexy Morticia Adams. But like, with purple hair." Benson grinned.

"We an hour late. Le's go." Twyla walked through the door, not sparing Rayna a glance. Everyone following her out.

Not proofread!!!

Author's note: Ok, so this was like way longer than I originally thought so I'm going to split it up into parts if people end up really liking this. And again I will take most requests for most fandoms, not just Hazbin Hotel, plus my own original stories

[mozzarella-stickz]

Karma: Cad Bane x F! Original Character

Author’s Note: I titled this Karma like the Taylor Swift song only because of the line “Karma’s on your scent like a bounty hunter” and I was like OMFG. Anyways enjoy this absolutely disgusting piece of literature.

Summary: Zena Brene is on the run from her rich father. He hires Cad Bane to bring her home.

Warnings: NSFW (oral sex F! and M! receiving fingering, vaginal sex), alien penis??, author makes up stuff about space poorly, arranged marriage (not with Bane), original female character

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first two days on the run had been fine. Her father hadn’t known she was gone for at least a few hours, giving Zena a head start. However, by the third day, unbeknownst to her, someone was following her.

Zena had assumed her father would send someone after her, but not who was now traveling through the cantina, scanning his red lizard eyes for her. Zena hid further under the hood of the robe she had stolen from home, desperately trying to cover her face up. The entire cantina was silent as Cad Bane trailed through it, holding a puck with her face on it. The bartender took one look at it, back at her and his eyes widened. Zena felt her heart go out and time stand still as he opened his lips and yelled to the bounty hunter.

“She’s right here!”

Zena turned around and met the gaze of Bane, her heart dropping to her stomach. She had a plan, and as she jumped up and ran, she used the cloak to knock him over, running out of the cantina as fast she could. Her speeder was out there, sitting and waiting, and she grabbed the goggles from the seat, starting it up and…

It didn’t start. The bastard had taken out the transmission.

“Stars above,” she swore, her eyes filling with tears. No choice now but to make a break for it. She began to run, but her attempts were proven futile as she heard running from behind her, the sound of a blaster shot, and the next thing Zena knew, everything was dark.

“You put up quite a fight, lil’ lady.”

Zena opened her bleary eyes, finding herself in a small cell on what appeared to be a ship. Sitting up, she wiped her eyes, her vision coming back as she locked eyes with Cad Bane through the bars.

“My father hired you, didn’t he?” she snarled, crossing her arms. “Of course he would do that. How much is he paying you?”

“Dat is confidential information,” he said, pulling a toothpick out of his pocket and chewing on it.

“Fuck you!”

Zena spat at him through the bars, enjoying the glare he gave her as fury raged in his red eyes.

“You outta learn some respect,” he said bitterly, wiping the spit off his face. “I pity the poor bastard who’s marrying you.”

“Oh, so he told you, huh? How I’m his rebellious, annoying, petulant brat? How he thinks this man is going to set me straight? Yeah, right. That bastard has about the same amount of brains as an Akk dog. Smells like one too.”

“Yer a funny one. It’s a damn shame you’re engaged already.”

“Oh, gimme a break! You stunned me and put me in a cell, don’t try and get all sappy with me now.”

Zena sat back down, but was surprised to hear a key inserted into the lock, turning with a click. Bane entered the cell, leaning against the wall, dangling the key from his long fingers. To her chagrin, something…ignited in her. She felt a wave of arousal between her legs.

“We’re almost dere,” Bane said. “About a day’s journey left. If you promise to behave, I can let you outta dis cage.”

Another wave of arousal made its way between her legs. Zena hated to admit it, but his dominant and domineering nature had an affect on her. Maybe it was the product of her very obvious daddy issues, but Zena had always been interested in the kinkier side of sex. When she was sixteen, she read her first dirty story on her Holopad, late at night under her bed covers. Ever since then, she was hooked. She’d looked for it in many guys, but they only ever wanted blowjobs. She was a virgin in every other aspect.

“I promise,” she said thickly.

“Good girl.”

Maker, Zena was getting hornier than a loth cat in heat. It was evident on her cheeks, she knew it, the blush that made her freckles stand out and her blown out pupils thinking about the dirty things she would let him do to her if given the chance.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Zena played a few rounds of Sabbac with Todo, Bane’s protocol droid, but mostly just sat in silence, arousal dripping down her thighs.

“Where am I sleeping?” Zena asked, as she began to grow exhausted, letting out a yawn.

“You tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you better not be. I can smell da arousal on ya, lil’ lady. Practically begging me to fuck ya.”

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t act so shy with me. My bedroom is that way. Be face down ass up in five minutes or dere’ll be hell to pay.”

She followed the direction of his fingers, closing the door behind her. His room was a small, surprisingly clean if a little bare, and smelled like him. Zena stripped off her boots, pants, tunic, and belt, leaving them on the floor. Her undergarments were soaked. Zena peeled them off slowly, leaving her entirely bare. She laid down in the bed in the position he had instructed her to be in, the anticipation making her pussy even wetter. The door opened behind her, and his heavy footsteps made their way towards her.

“Such a pretty girl,” he said, low and mechanical.

Bane stepped forwards, his large hands running up the back of her legs. Zena shivered under his touch, body growing warmer and warmer. Cad chuckled under his breath, no doubt feeling the warmth in her body spreading. His hands traveled from her thighs, to the middle of her spread legs. His long finger was cold as it stroked her cunt, but Zena let out a small whine as it circled her clit.

“You like dat, don’t you?” Cad asked, his finger picked up ministrations.

Zena only nodded, unable to form words. Cad growled, grabbing a handful of her blonde hair, forcing her to look at him. Zena’s eyes went wide, but her pupils grew even larger with lust at the roughness.

“I believe I asked you a question, lil’ lady,” he spat.

“Y-yes,” Zena said breathless.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…sir.”

“Dat’s a good girl. Now roll over f’ me.”

He released his iron grip on her hair, and Zena rolled over, spreading her legs wide. Cad looked her up and down, from her tits to her hot, wet cunt. Cad’s hands cupped her tits, squeezing them softly as she moaned. He chuckled again, clearly enjoying controlling her. Not that Zena minded, really. She liked him being rough, telling her what and what not to do. It made her brain go fuzzy, made her not have to worry about anything outside of him.

Cad squeezed her breasts once more, before lightly nipping at them with his sharp teeth. Zena jumped slightly, before letting it happen again as he grazed her nipples just barely.

“Feels s’ good sir.”

“Is it?”

“Mhm.”

“Too bad den. This ain’t about you.”

He moved off you, unbuckling his trousers. He threw his belt to the floor, before pulling his cock out with a tug. Zena’s eyes widened. It was the same shade of blue as him, but the tip was a darker purple-ish blue color, throbbing and hard. There were ridges all along it, and his balls were full and dark like his tip. Cad smirked as he watched Zena take it all in.

“Like what ya see?”

“Yes sir.”

“Come down ere and suck it.”

Zena sat down on her knees in front of him, grabbing his cock in between her manicured hands. She had done this before, but not with a sick as big as his. Zena stuck her tongue out, giving a soft kitten lick to the head of his sock. Cad immediately let out a groan, grabbing the back of her head again.

“Maker, girlie, yer mouth is so much better for cock suckin’ than back talkin’.”

Zena smiled up at him with her large brown eyes, before wrapping her lips around his tip and suckling it gently. She eased her way down his shaft, using her hand to jerk off what she couldn’t fit into her mouth. Cad swore over and over, his hand guiding her up and down. Zena, however, had another idea. Letting go of his cock with a pop, she lifted his cock up to reveal his balls, sucking them into her mouth and licking them.

“Fuckin’ hell!” he exclaimed. “You like dat? Like suckin’ on them like a dirty slut?”

“I love it, sir,” Zena said, not even holding the slightest bit of brattiness. She genuinely did like it.

She took his cock back in her mouth, letting Cad fuck her throat as he moved her back and forth. It wasn’t too long until he was cumming in her mouth with a shout. His cum filled her mouth, some dribbling from the side of her mouth. Cad leaned down, wiping it and stuffing it back in her mouth. Zena swallowed it all.

“Was…was that good?” she asked, suddenly insecure.

“Lil’ lady, I dare say dat’s the best my cock has been sucked. I think ya deserve a reward for dat.”

“Reward?”

“Lie back down on the bed, spread yer legs, and yer gonna find out.”

Zena laid down and spread her legs as she had before, anxiously awaiting him. He kneeled in front of her, pulling her by the legs to the end of the bed. It was then she realized what he was doing. Cad’s tongue licked up her folds, and she threw her head back as his long tongue wrapped around her clit. In all her years, she’d never felt anything as good as this. Bane quickened up his pace with his tongue leading Zena further and further to the edge. With a howl, Zena’s orgasm came crashing down, flowing out into Babe’s mouth. He rode it out, Zena shaking and near tears as the aftershocks shot through her body at a quick speed.

“F-fuck,” Zena cried, “T-thank you, sir.”

Bane stood up and grinned, his blue face smeared with her slick. Zena blushed, tucking a strand of her blonde hair back.

“Ya came so hard, girlie,” Bane teased. “Has anyone done that to ya?”

“Well, uh, no. I didn’t tell you this before but I-I…I’m a virgin. All I’ve done is give blowjobs.”

All it took was those words for his eyes to grow darker. He had no obvious pupils, but if he did, Zena knew they would have been blown out entirely.

“A virgin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Girlie, yer first time and it’s with a bounty hunter’s dick. Yer in fer da time of yer life. Lay back down.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zena laid back down, spreading her legs again. Bane adjusted his hat, before positioning himself in between Zena’s legs. His hands spread her thighs apart wider, before he smiled down lustily at her.

“Ya ready, lil’ lady?”

“Mhm.”

“Alrighty, hold on.”

He entered her, and Zena let out a hiss. It was painful, especially since it wasn’t a human cock inside of her. Zena grabbed onto Bane’s arms tight, as he thrust into her slowly. As she adjusted to him, it started to feel good, still painful, but it was slowly turning into a good feeling of fullness.

“Ya okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. I’m gonna go faster.”

Zena nodded as Bane picked up speed, thrusting in and out of her. Her tits bounced, and she threw her head back.

“Ya feel so good, tight and…warm!” Bane groaned. “Squeezin’ me so good.”

“Keep going, please sir!” Zena begged.

Bane reached down, rubbing her clit furiously. It didn’t take long before she could feel the orgasm building up.

“I’m getting close!” she cried.

“Glad I’m fuckin’ the brat outta ya,” Bane said, low and breathless. “I should feel bad, ruinin’ ya for ya husband.”

“Fuck him!” Zena cried. “Bane…I’m gonna!”

“Let go, girlie. Let ya master know how good he’s fuckin’ ya!”

Zena moaned, louder and higher than before, her walls clamping around Bane’s cock. It didn’t take long before he was swearing, his seed filling up her belly in a loud, gravelly groan. He fucked it into her as the aftershocks began to wear down, and he pulled out of her slowly. Zena was completely fucked out, red face, mussed hair, smeared mascara, sweat riveting down her body. Bane zipped his pants up, adjusted his hat, and went to grab her a wet towel.

“Bane?”

“Ya?”

“When you bring me back to my family, will you come visit me?”

“Ya have a life to get to. I have my own.”

“Oh.”

“If ya run away though and yer daddy asks me to find ya brat of a self again, maybe I’ll see ya.”

Zena smiled, sitting up.

The next day, Zena was returned to her family. Credits were exchanged, and she was thrust into wedding preparations immediately. Still, instead of dreaming of her fiancé at night, it was always Bane.

A few weeks later, Bane received a holo message from Zena’s father once again. He smiled as he took the puck, promising to bring his little girl back like he hadn’t taken her virginity the last time he’d hunted her down.

Maker, Cad Bane was going to have fun with her once again.

[ray-the-fanatic]

The good the bad and Casey Jones 2012

- Casey's a nerd and I love him just wiritng in his journal about him becoming a hero

- Casey talking to himself "who do ya think you are a ninja" this boys such a dork I love him

- I love Raph targeting Donnie first in the last standing fight just cause donnies all "I still see the spots from last time"

- the fact this epsiode is one after Slash and destroy and showing raph really reflecting on his anger he's been shown how it can turn him into a monster and how raphs trying to understand what's going on with himself ;3;

- I apperacite that they made thr city feel alive with people walking around all the time

- Casey being spooked by a rat xD

- okay but casey clear knocked over a dude at least twice his size with one hickey puck? Why are we constantly ignoring how strong this twig is!

- also Casey intro to this dragon fight is actually cool him wearing all place do his mask really looks like a skull

- I just love this fight it shows hiw casey I'd a street fighter he's not trained at all just raw angry hitting with blunt objects. I could better got in to his fighting but I'm not gonna at the moment I'd rather like break down all the charater if I did again I just apperiacte the effort for this detail

- the boy have met at last!!!

- "another mutant!" "What are some kind of turtle ninja" "Okay you lizard thing"

Casey your just being rude you litteral said what Raph was xD

- THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

Casey is someone who has never been in a real fight raph who's had maybe 14 years' worth of ninaj training and casey giving him trouble, and I dunno that's something to admire about Casey in thud fight cause he meet blow got blow woth raph

- man I could watch raph and casey fight over and over actually its really good

- casey: I knew we were fighting, but imma still say your throwing stars are cool

Gotta admit the throwing stars are pretty cool

Raph let me show you my sai!

Boys please stop flirting

- casey just casually Taunting raph through out this fight as if this mutant turtle is fucking throwing and slamming him around

-I just really love when Casey first shows off his saktes and how it guve him and advantage over raph cause it makes him faster and mkre agile

- raph two seconds from stabbing casey in the eye good story to tell when they talk about how they met xD

- "Yeah you run away or skeet! Whatever!" Ya you tell gimme raph

- Donnie just happily sitting on the couch ready to watch TV:D

- raph trying to apologize to Leo ;3; he really trying here and he can't help but get irratatied because he's struggling to talk and not really getting a chance

- you know for a guy that took a beating that had him sore still three days later casey at least able to move around just fine

- oh he spotted Raph and followed him home. Casey litteraly thr stray that picked raph uwu

- "anger issue I don't got anger issues maybe they got anger issues I git a PhD in anger issues!" Raph xD

- "Oh yay raphs back" I love how low donnies voice is when he says that

- rip Casey's mask off casey just "bleeeah" like a fucking zombie xD

- "its fave paint!" Did Leo think that was just casey face xD

- shipper in me maybe I just like that April picks to introduce raph to casey by "the one and only Raphael."

- "so the turtles are all Italian?" Gonna ignore some things there but gonna say i love casey once again xD

- Casey's fear of rats only to display raphs fear of bugs parallels uwu

- they look so funny in this show when they retract into thier shells xD raph looks lole a green bean in a turtle shell xD

- "its the kids fault he followed me!" Raph caseu is older than you xD

- "they followed you too dude!" "Don't dude me dude!" They are stupid and I love them

- it such a small detsuk but caseynusing scary paint to mark the specific foot bot they needed so they wouldn't lose track of him

- they are fight the whole time but even at odds you are being show how well they actually work together here

- THE TRAIN SCENE!!!!!!

Casey asked if raph was okay and raphs little soft thanks;3; this scene kills me it's one of my favorites for then

- raph saving casey from almost falling off the train and Casey's "thanks raph" they aren't even friends yet and he's already calling them that ;3; ahhh guys my heart can't take this!!!

- also that smile raph flashes Casey's way when saying they are even

- I love the chase scene because as it gose on you see these two slowly going from at odds to working together ending with raph throwing casey to stop the foot bot bot with his taser

- like you see them starting to cover the others weak points and I just ahhhhh

- " your raw unfocused dangerous crazy, but not bad"

"Thanks your not so bad yourself" arm wrestling to hold hands "for an amphiana"

- raph and casey bonding over the chase they just got back from uwu casey casually resting his elbow on raph ;3;

- "wow what's with you guys you like best friends forever now?" Mikeys younger sibling jealously is showing

- I dunno I jist love raph playing it cool and just being all yay Casey's pretty cool as of he wasn't just all excited and joyfully talking with Casey a second ago

- raph and casey already talking about getting into more fights together now slamming thier heads together and all "yeeeeah" I love them so much

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi  🌸 Patreon

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

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me. 

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it. 

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost. 

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl? 

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own. 

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

-----------

If you enjoyed the story please consider donating to my ko-fi or supporting me on patreon (even a dollar helps!), check out my Sapphic fantasy book as well!

[xidyl]

Ok gimme a few moments to absolutely flip out over this creature

So I was listening to one of C. M. Kosemen’s podcasts and he was mainly talking about some interesting cases of convergent evolution, it’s a fascinating topic and one of the animals he brought up is the phylliroe sea slug. When I looked up pictures of it, it ABSOLUTELY. BLEW. ME. AWAY.

KHJHJSHGJ HOLY SHIT

Yeah, this is a REAL animal. It’s a sea slug/nudibranch, that SOMEHOW, evolved to form a body much like a fish!!

Which... just.. WHAT?? This is just absolutely astonishing to me!! This is just an amazing case of an invertebrate convergently evolving to have a form much like a vertebrate’s! 

To understand how insane this is, imagine if a centipede were to evolve to resemble a lizard. Or if a mouse were to evolve into a worm-like form. These two creatures who are vastly different from one another, somehow took their shape! It’s nothing short of remarkable!

It looks sooo fucking cool, too...

C. M. Kosemen uses this example to show how convergent evolution is far more prevalent in life than we would think, and how alien life on an Earth-like planet would most likely resemble life on Earth a lot more closely than you’d think.

If you’re working on an alien worldbuilding project with life forms that originate completely differently from Earth’s, it’s actually not too far off to have them superficially resemble life on Earth! You don’t have to feel pressured into making them groundbreakingly bizarre, because evolution, as we understand it, is blind and indiscriminate. If the body plan works, it works!

btw listen to C. M. Kosemen’s video it’s truly fascinating and goes deeper into this topic

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RvAyElW2vgM

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS!!!!

Rex and Quetzalcoatl had a pair of twins that they cared for very much. A girl named Maria, and a boy named Eduardo.

The twins were born on the 25th of September, and that date had arrived so it was time to celebrate their birthday!

In the morning, Mari was peacefully asleep.

Mari: *SNOOOOOOORE!*

Quetz, softly: mijaaaaaaa....

Mari: mmm....!

Quetz: mijaaaaaaa.....!

Mari, sleepily: mama..... I wanna..... sneeeeep......!

Quetz: but mija, it's your birthday today....!

Mari: hmmm.....

Quetz: did you hear me, mija?

Mari: *grumble* ok..... *sigh* I'm getting up already.

Mari got up, still very tired.

Mari: Da hell's my glasses?

Quetz handed her her glasses.

Mari: gracias....

Quetz: you should probably hurry, everyone else is already getting ready.

Mari: who the hell is everyone else?

Quetz: just the rest of the family.

Mari: hmmmm.... okay...... was worried I'd have to deal with a party.....

Quetz: don't worry, we know you don't enjoy those. It'll be just the family.

Mari: good....

After some time getting ready, Maria went out into the living room.

Mari, while yawning: ok.... how long will it take to get there again?

Rex: uh... not too long, maybe an hour or so on the serpent.

Ed: still crazy how fast he can be.

Quetz: well of course my familiar would be fast! It'd be a bit disappointing otherwise.

After a bit of time getting ready, the family went outside to see Quetz's pterosaur outside ready to go!

Quetz: ok everyone! Get on!

The family got onto the large flying reptile.

Rex: ok then. Now just a simple invisibility spell so we're not spotted on our way there.

Ed: radar won't work either right?

Rex: right, I've got everything covered, Mijo.

After that, the beast took off!

After some time in the air, their destination was in sight: Mexico City!

Ed: wow!

Mari: such a massive city.

Quetz: ah, it's been too long since we've been here.

Finally the pterosaur landed and they got off to go out into the city!

Rex: man, this place brings back memories!

Ed: so, where to first anyways?

Quetz: it's up to you guys

Mari: breakfast!

Rex: ok yeah, should probably eat first

*stomachs were growling*

The family went to a nice restaurant for their breakfast.

Quetz: mija, those are a lot of pancakes...

Mari: si, and?

Rex: your mother is just a bit concerned for you is all.

Mari: hmmm, sounds unnecessary.

Rex: also Ed, is that enough bacon?

Ed: hmmm.... maybe.

After breakfast, there were still many things that could be done.

First thing, was visiting the old site of Teotihuacan.

Quetz: *sigh* it's been a very long time.....

Mari: looks kinda.... decrepit.

Rex: kinda par for the course with old ruins and shit.

Ed: ....is there a ball court?

Quetz: si, but I doubt we're allowed to play these days.

Ed: awww....

Next stop, was the Aquarium.

Mari: Shork

Ed: Shork

Rex: ya real fascinated by those sharks huh?

Quetz: don't ya wanna see the penguins?

Ed: Penguins?!?!

Rex: also piranhas.

Mari: PIRANHAS?!?!?!

Next was the Zoo

Rex: mi corazon, it's just a random Jaguar. There's no need to cause a scene.

Quetz: I CAN SEE MY STUPID BROTHER TAUNTING ME THROUGH IT'S EYES!!!!

Mari: Mamá, not every Jaguar is Tio Tez.

Ed: we're gonna get kicked out if you don't stop.....

Rex: really hope there aren't any spiders too.

Another fun site, was the museum.

Ed: so..... this is Piedra del Sol?

Quetz: si

Mari: but... so is your noble phantasm?

Quetz: si

Ed: ....how does that work?

Rex: don't ask too many questions about this kinda stuff. You'll get it eventually.

Finally, it was getting a bit late. So it was time to return home.

Mari: we getting the presents now?!?!?

Rex: si, si. You relax will ya?

Ed: you already know she can be a bit greedy.

Quetz: it's better that you try to relax that, Mija.

When they finally got home, a Large assortment of presents were waiting for them.

Mari: Hell yeah!

Ed: hmmmmmm......

Mari: let's see.... which one first....

Mari first grabbed one with.... very unique wrapping, eyes and other odd things decorated the paper.

When she unwrapped it, what was inside was a plush wolf

Mari: AAAWWW!!!

Ed, opening a similar box, got a plush Narwhal.

Ed: oooooh!

And the horn started to glow

Ed: huh

Rex: ....that's a sword

Quetz: it's definitely a sword

Mari: also, my plush smells poisonous.

Rex: well.... that's par for the course for your Tia Quinny.

Next were.... slot machines?

Ed: so we just... pull them?

Quetz: I guess so?

The twins pull the levers of the slot machines.

The machines spun their slots for a time, until finally stopping on 3 symbols that looked like present boxes. Then out of the machines, popped out tickets for both kids.

Mari: oh

Ed: huh

From Mari's popped out VIP tickets to a Music Festival.

Mari: POG

And from Ed's popped out, a soccer season pass.

Ed: oh word?!

And finally, matching tickets for the two, for "5 hours of use of the Mooncell" from BB

Mari: ......

Ed: .......

Quetz: well that sure is.... interesting.

After that, was another box. Wrapped in blue wrapping paper. The two unwrapped it, and inside were two gecko eggs. Along with incubators and everything necessary to raise lizards. With a lil tag saying "from Calamity" (Chalchiuhtlicue)

Mari: LIZARD

Ed: they're cute!

Next were two VERY big gifts wrapped in bone patterned wrapping.

Mari: gimme!

After Mari unwrapped the gift, what she found was a VERY large obsidian Hammer.

Mari: ah hell yeah!

SLAM

Ed: damn.... ok.

For Ed, was a large Obsidian Club.

Ed: oh fuck, ok.

Rex: there a reason Xolotl decided to give such gifts?

Quetz: good question.....

Then a very deep and loud *CROAK* was heard

Ed: FROGE

Then hopping out, was a very VERY large bullfrog. About a foot and a half in length!

Ed: OH HE'S A LARGE LAD!

Mari: damn.

Rex: mija, look behind that tree.

Mari: hmm?

When Mari looked, she saw a Huge car! Modeled after the Batmobile!

(Tho, with bat theming replaced with skulls)

Mari: HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!

After latching onto the car, Mari was very happy.

Mari: finally.......! I can drive!

Quetz: can we trust her with that?

Rex: we'll play it by ear.

And in a small package near the center of the pile. Was a first aid kit, with a note.

"Happy birthday you two, hope you enjoy the car and frog. And don't forget to stay safe with the first aid kit love, Florence, Julius and Eva."

Mari: awwww.....

Ed: so sweeet....

There were many other presents from friends and family alike, more toys, clothes, even laptops too.

Then it was finally time for Rex and Quetz's presents for the kids.

Boom

Mari: the hell?

Then, out of the trees of the nearby jungle, came a large animal. A dinosaur known as Giganotosaurus.

Mari: oh...!

The creature stomped up to the family, until it stopped in front of Mari.

Mari: holy crap.....

Rex: now you have your own divine familiar too, Mija!

Mari: oh shit!

Quetz: si, wasn't sure why you didn't get one the same time as Ed's Pliosaur, but now we got you one!

Mari: finally!

Quetz: and for Mijo, it may not be as big. But since you already got your Pliosaur. We got you this instead.

In Quetz's hands, was what looked to be an electric eel. Tho it glittered with green sparkles, not unlike that of jade.

Ed: whoa, he's an odd lil guy.

Rex: he's very special too. He's not just any electric eel. But a divine construct at that!

Quetz: si, his name is Onotlachin. The storm fish.

Ed: hot damn!

Ed held the lil guy in his hands, and felt the energy within the fish. It also seemed perfectly fine without water.

Ed: he's amazing, gracias!

Mari: si! Gracias for this!

Rex: no problem you two!

Quetz: si, anything for mis hijos!

A/N: and there's the birthday story. Sorry it came out a bit late. Things happened irl. Hopefully everyone likes it! And the festivities can still continue on throughout the weekend and even longer if anyone wants to celebrate with us.

Tags

@hasbbdoneanythingwrong @havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @exmeowstic @grievouslyxorvia @panyum @witch-of-chaldea @chaldeamage-neo @hasnightingaledoneanythingwrong @renmeo @writer-and-artist27

[elareine]

JayTimSpooktober - Cryptids

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s a shadow,” Tim explained patiently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can see that, thank you. Why are you pointing a camera at it?”

“It might move.”

“It hasn’t done shit during the week you set up surveillance, but it will move now that we’re here with an entire crew and your camcorder, staring at it?”

“Maybe it’s into that.”

“Did you just imply that this Shadow… person… is kinky?”

Tim smirked. “You went there, not me.”

In a flash, Jason was up and walking toward the end of the small alley.

“Hey, Shadow Person!” he called out. “I’m getting a bit bored here. Wanna get kinky with your shadow tentacles?”

Tim groaned. “Jason…”

“Not even some shadow theatre?” Jason asked. “Everyone can do a dog and a tree. C’mon. Gimme something, I’m dying of boredom.”

Tim jumped up, something like genuine fear on his face. “Jason! I told you to stop provoking them, what if—“

Jason scoffed. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“People disappeared, Jason! We don’t know the answer to that, but it’s nothing good.” Coming to a stop next to Jason, Tim shivered. “Whoa. That’s quite the cold spot.”

“The freezer from the restaurant on the other side of the wall, you mean.”

“That would send out heat, not cold,” Tim shot back.

With a sigh, Jason slid off his jacket and draped it around the shorter man’s shoulders. “Sure. It’s totally a cold spot.” A wink at the camera. “Nothing else it could be. That’s why I’m fine with my shirt. Nothing to do with you being a total bean.”

Tim glared at him, but when they went back to their observational posts, he snuggled into the jacket all the same. “What’s got you so riled up about this one?” he asked.

Jason ran a hand through his hair. Shrugged. “Dunno. I just don’t get why this particular alley is any scarier then thousands of others in Gotham.”

“A kid is supposed to have died here.”

“Again—how’s that different from the rest of Gotham?”

“You know as well as I do that violence leaves a mark.”

Okay, Jason couldn’t argue with that, so he tried a different tack. “Even if this—this Shadow person exists—and that’s a huge if—what’s the big deal? I always wonder about that.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You wonder what’s the big deal about a Shadow Person that snatches those that walk by?”

“Yeah! That’s just your ordinary vigilante. Or, like, take the Yeti. What’s so cool about a hairy dude in the mountains eating tourists? At worst, that’s a serial killer. Nothing interesting about these dudes.”

“We have no actual evidence they eat people.”

“We have no actual evidence they exist, Tim.”

“We do!” Tim’s cheeks flushed, as always when he got into his area of specialty. “What else do you call the Indian army tweeting about it? And there was that one picture—“

Jason leaned back, the small smile on his face hidden from the camera, as Tim rambled on and on and on, only stopping when the sun finally rose.

After, when the crew had left and it was just the two of them debriefing, Jason said: “That was a nice touch, don’t you think? Nothing to talk about, no monster to speak of, so let’s bring up the Yeti.”

“I know you play it up the cameras, Jay,” Tim told him. “And the viewers love it. But deep down, I think you know I’m onto something here.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Drake.” Jason shifted uncomfortably. Something in Tim’s blue eyes was disconcerting.

“Oh, you can keep denying all you want, but I’ll have you admit it eventually.”

Jason couldn’t help but grin. “You’ll just have to convince me.”

Tim leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then, while Jason gaped at him, stunned, he ran, hastily calling out: “LookingForwardToIt—byeee!”

Jason stared after him. His cheek burned when he lifted a hand to touch it. That was—did that mean—

…it meant he was acting like a schoolgirl in the fourteenth episode of an anime, that’s what it meant. He turned to the shadows. “Not a word.”

The darkness stayed silent. Good for it.

“Now, you seem to be new, so I’m cutting you some slack. This is my city. If you wanna feast on those who harm others, be my guest. I’m not gonna complain if some would-be rapists were to, say, vanish from the corner of Johnson and Third. But if you touch anyone innocent—or anyone that is mine—I will find you, and I will burn out what little is left of your miserable little existence. Understood?”

Jason let his eyes turn green just a little bit, a mere hint of what it was dealing with. It was enough for the shadow to shrink.

Jason nodded, satisfied. “Good night. Let’s not do this again.”

As he walked away, secure in the knowledge that nothing and no-one would block his path, he considered today’s filming. Tim was right—the people loved their banter. Team Sceptic vs. Team Believer and all that. Jason had seen shirts. Today’s subject would be fresh and exciting enough to keep the discussion going.

A Shade. Who knew. You’d think Gotham would be full of them, but this was actually the first one Jason had come across.

That was the thing with cryptids, though. Hard to predict which ones were real and which one only existed in the collective mind of an internet forum. And sometimes, the lines between those blurred. Just ask the Slenderman. Guy was a bit of a dick, though, so Jason didn’t exactly feel sorry for him.

He actually had no idea about the Yeti or the Chupacabra. The only reason Jason knew that Mothman was real was that he’d accidentally ran into him on a road trip once. Like called to like, and all that. The Lizard Man of Swamp Ore was, sadly, either a myth or very shy. Jason had spent enough time with Tim in that miserable tent to know.

Or maybe, the Lizard Man had just been afraid of him. It didn’t matter.

What mattered that Tim—sweet, curious, sharp-tongued Tim, the boy that Jason had met ten feet away from a vampire nest and had offered to start a show with just to stop him from entering—was safe. Would be safe, as long as Jason was by his side. The funny internet discussions were just a bonus.

[commentaryvorg]

Digimon Savers Commentary Episode 3 - The Genius Who Returned Home, Tohma! Crush Meramon!

In this episode, we’re introduced to Tohma, whose return to the Japanese branch of DATS immediately sparks a hostile rivalry between him and Masaru. Meanwhile, Masaru’s first mission as a DATS member presents him with the tricky conundrum of figuring out how to punch fire.

We open with Masaru and Agumon stuffing their faces at the Daimon family breakfast table.

Sayuri:  “My, my. Masaru never usually gets up before the afternoon on a Sunday. This must be thanks to Agu-chan!”

Masaru habitually sleeping in on non-school days is deeply relatable.

But more importantly, it’s lovely that him meeting Agumon has changed that! Though Masaru might have got something out of fighting random street punks before, it seems that it wasn’t quite exciting enough to him to get him out of bed early for it. It was probably more just that he’d wander around town bored and pick fights with anyone who seemed up for it out of a lack of anything better to do.

But now that he and Agumon have got all these Digimon to fight, Masaru’s got a real reason to wake up as soon as possible to go do that! Meeting Agumon has genuinely made him a whole lot happier with his life.

Also it is adorable how Sayuri and Chika have already taken to calling Agumon “Agu-chan”. It’s a cute sign that they see him as exactly the dorky kid that he is rather than as some weird monster, and also that they see him as one of the family, which is absolutely what he is now.

Can we please appreciate Chika’s done-ness here. I love her.

Masaru:  “What the hell, Mom! Serve me before Agumon!”

Sayuri:  “I never said you wouldn’t have your share. Just wait for a bit. After all, Agu-chan’s still a child.”

Again with the just treating Agumon like the big kid that he is. Sayuri is so good.

We are also introduced to the glorious treasure that is Sayuri’s fried eggs! Agumon has certainly discovered how great they are.

(Technically, these are tamagoyaki, a Japanese miniature rolled omelette thing. But the subs go with fried eggs, which is close enough and rolls off the tongue quicker in English.)

Masaru:  “Gimme that!”

Agumon:  “I won’t hand over the last of Sayuri’s fried eggs, not even to you!”

Oh, won’t you, Agumon? Not ever?

(This is another line to keep in mind for a lot later.)

Chika:  “What a child…”

As Masaru wrestles Agumon in an attempt to literally get the fried egg back from out of his mouth, Chika observes that she’s somehow the most mature of the three Daimon kids. (Yes, I said three, what of it.)

Meanwhile, Tohma is… having a gratuitous shower scene. Uhhh, sure. Apparently this totally needed to be his introduction. …Look, at least I appreciate that the fanservice is being equal-opportunity in terms of gender. (For now.)

He also has a butler, and is living in a pretty big but mostly quiet and empty mansion. This sequence is about showing the huge contrast between Masaru and Tohma’s home lives, but I do not know why the writers thought a shower scene was necessary for that.

(Tohma mentioned at the end of last episode that this country is his mom’s homeland, but he sure doesn’t appear to be staying with his mom right now, does he.)

Agumon attempts to fit himself into the basket of a bike which I can only imagine is Chika’s, because I don’t think Masaru’s bike would be pink. Agumon doesn’t seem to realise this. Chika doesn’t seem to want to tell him. He is such a ridiculous dork.

Meanwhile, Tohma gets seen off in the morning by the mansion’s staff bowing goodbye to him, and then is driven around in a limo.

Masaru’s “transportation”, on the other hand, is running down the street while giving Agumon a piggy back. Apparently this is so that Agumon can stay still and pretend to be a really big stuffed toy, but he’s kind of ruining that by talking and waving his arms around to cheer his aniki on.

(Of course, the most obvious way to not have Agumon raise suspicion would be to keep him in his Digivice, but it seems they’ve already agreed offscreen that that’s not an option because Agumon doesn’t like it in there. Yoshino and Satsuma would probably have some words to say to them about that, but hey, they’re not here, so Masaru’s gonna let his follower stay outside and be happier.)

Masaru:  “Uh… what do I press again? This? No…”

Masaru, that DATS earpiece only has like two buttons on it, it can’t be that hard to figure out.

Yoshino:  “We have a Digimon signal.”

Masaru:  “Where?!”

Yoshino:  “Area C-7. Can you get there directly?”

Masaru:  “Yeah! Leave it to us!”

Not pictured: Masaru wondering where the heck “C-7” is and why he impulsively said he could definitely get there when it could be on the other side of the city for all he knows.

(Okay, that’s probably not actually what happens. Somehow we are supposed to believe that Masaru – Masaru – memorised all these location codes that DATS uses remarkably quickly. I imagine he knows the city quite well, but these codes for the areas are presumably a DATS-only thing that civilians wouldn’t be familiar with.)

Street punk #1:  “So boring…”

Street punk #2: “Nothing’s going on at all…”

PetitMeramon: “Nothing at all!”

This is the first time we’ve seen a rampaging Digimon speak… but it doesn’t necessarily seem to be expressing its own thoughts. Rather, it’s just parroting these bored dudes. The PetitMeramon goes on to float down the street and set things on fire, which certainly makes it so that something interesting’s finally going on. It almost seems as if this is happening because these dudes were bored and wanted some kind of excitement, even if they weren’t necessarily wishing for this.

This is almost immediately followed by Masaru and Agumon showing up, which… the timing of that doesn’t exactly work out for the PetitMeramon to have only just appeared, assuming this is the Digimon signal Yoshino told him about while he was still in his own neighbourhood. But I’m still very sure that the writers want us to feel like these dudes’ boredom is related to the PetitMeramon being here, and honestly, showing us that is more important than getting meaningless details like the timing of things exactly right, so I don’t actually care.

Masaru:  “Let’s fight!”

PetitMeramon: “Fight…”

Again, still not really speaking for itself, just parroting. Though this time it’s parroting a different person, so maybe what we can take from this is that there were some other bored people who originally brought it here and now it’s just parroting and acting on the thoughts of whoever happens to be nearby. (It’s true that we didn’t actually hear the sound of a Digital Gate opening just now.)

Unfortunately for our pair of dorks, a living fireball like PetitMeramon is immune to Agumon’s fire attacks and not solid enough for Masaru to punch. And without punching it, Masaru can’t get his Digisoul, so he can’t evolve Agumon either. This is the absolute worst possible enemy for them to try and fight.

Naturally, they just chase it further down the street anyway, giving absolutely no care to the random dudes who just watched a giant lizard and a living fireball duke it out. Despite being a DATS member now, Masaru is still really not here for all of the calculated government secrecy stuff.

Luckily, Tohma arrives on the scene in his limo and cleans up these loose ends Masaru left using a memory-wipe flashy thing. And, to be fair, I wouldn’t be surprised if Satsuma just didn’t even give one of those to Masaru in the first place. I’m not sure I’d trust him not to accidentally point it the wrong way when using it or something, given that he could barely figure out the two buttons on his earpiece. Masaru and technology do not mix.

(…Though I have to wonder why Gaomon then emerges from the limo and isn’t inside his Digivice. Sure, the flashy thing knocked out those dudes so they’re not a problem right now, but do you really not expect to run into any more people as you chase down the target? …But of course, the only real reason Gaomon is out right now is so that we can get a brief glimpse of him as a stinger before the opening.)

Okay! Okay!

I can jump over any limits!

Feel that excitement passionately!

Some more gung-ho opening lyrics! These feel appropriate here, as the idea of Masaru’s burning passionate excitement is going to be a bit of a thing in this episode, as is the idea that he brashly considers himself to have no limits whatsoever.

At DATS HQ, Masaru is grumpy about not being able to win.

Yoshino:  “Well, I didn’t think it would go easily for you from the start.”

Honestly, having seen how easily Masaru handled the fights in the first two episodes, I would have expected things to go easily for him, at least in terms of fighting. It only didn’t because this specific enemy happens to be immune to all of his usual tactics. The more logistical side of things, such as the secrecy and the memory wiping stuff, I can see Masaru needing a while to get used to (though, spoiler, he’s, uh, never really going to become any good at that at all), but not the fighting.

Tohma shows up with the PetitMeramon’s Digiegg, presenting it to Yoshino and not even acknowledging Masaru’s presence.

Miki and Megumi, the two young women who work the tech side of things at HQ, begin fawning over him, which is, uh, a liiittle questionable when he’s fourteen and they’re… it’s never made clear exactly how old, but definitely at least adults. Thankfully, this mostly goes away and stops being much of a thing after this episode.

There is also Gaomon! He is a good dog. Though right now he’s being as dismissive as his master and ignoring Agumon when Agumon tries to ask who he is.

Masaru:  “You bastard! You took away my prey!”

It’s so Masaru to be mad about this. That PetitMeramon was his opponent first, and now he can’t even settle the fight himself because this guy came in and defeated it before he could!

Tohma barely looks at him, and…

Masaru:  “What, gonna fight?”

…of course Masaru is ready to start a fight over this, because this is how he’s used to settling disputes.

But actually Tohma was just turning to walk towards Satsuma, still pretty much entirely ignoring Masaru’s presence.

Tohma:  “I’ve looked through the written reports, and it seems rather peculiar that there are a large number of Digimon detected in this country lately.”

[…]

Satsuma:  “Is the frequency not as high in EU?”

Tohma:  “No. It must be because it has a larger area.”

I do not understand what Tohma is trying to get at with that last part. Since Europe is bigger than just Japan, surely that means they’d expect more Digimon incidents in it, not less.

That weird part aside, though, it is a relevant point that Japan in particular has been seeing more Digimon incidents than anywhere else. There’s a reason for this.

Masaru is fed up with Tohma acting like he doesn’t exist and walks up to cough pointedly behind him. It’s actually rather unlike Masaru to be passive-aggressive and indirect like this, but it does amuse me.

Satsuma:  “Oh, let me introduce you. This is…”

[Tohma barely even glances at Masaru; Masaru gets angry]

Masaru:  “Hey! I don’t care if you’re called Tohma or Tonma… but around here, I’m your senpai! I’ve only been here for three days, but make sure to call me ‘Daimon-san’ or ‘Daimon-senpai’!”

Not that it takes much for Masaru to go back to his usual direct approach to things. Tohma just waltzing in here, easily defeating the opponent that Masaru was struggling against, getting immediate respect from everyone else in the room and barely even acknowledging Masaru as worthy of looking at makes Masaru feel inferior, which riles him up and gets him flailing to assert some kind of superiority in a really transparent way.

See, Masaru wouldn’t usually care all that much about people showing the appropriate politeness when referring to him, but when it’s this jerk who’s making him feel like this, damn right he’s going to insist that the three days more he’s been here is totally enough to count as making him a senpai. (A senpai means someone senior within the same group; it’s a Japanese concept that doesn’t quite have a direct English equivalent, hence the subs leaving it as-is and just giving us a translators’ note explaining it.)

Calling him “Tonma” – which another translators’ note informs us is a word for an idiot, so basically Masaru’s just insulting him in a very juvenile way – is, of course, not exactly the best way to establish himself as a mature and senior senpai.

Satsuma and Yoshino point out that actually Tohma is Masaru’s senpai, because he used to work here until he took a six-month trip to work at a DATS branch in Europe, which he’s just returned from.

Masaru:  “B-But no matter how you look at it, he’s the same age as I am…”

Establishing Tohma’s age as being also fourteen. (Though technically Masaru wouldn’t necessarily know his exact age and is just saying he seems similarly aged, but whatever, Tohma is fourteen as well, let’s go with it. Their rivalry has a much more fun dynamic if they really are exactly the same age rather than one having a year or two of seniority over the other.)

They also go on to add that Tohma is a genius who already has a degree (and even more than that, as we’ll later learn). And, okay, while on paper Tohma’s genius achievements are probably wildly unrealistic for anyone to have managed at the age of fourteen no matter how clever they are, it doesn’t really bother me. In practice, the genius thing isn’t here to make Tohma magically unrealistically special; it’s here to make him interesting and a great foil for Masaru. Tohma is a very well-written character whom I really like, almost as much as Masaru, and I’m looking forward to getting to talk about him a lot here.

On top of this, the Norstein family is Austrian nobility, so Tohma’s practically a prince as well. (Again, there’s very much a point to this that’s relevant to his character and not just for the sake of making him special). And they add that Gaomon is the most accomplished battler they have among the Digimon at DATS (not that there’s that many for him to compete with there).

Satsuma:  “Be sure to get along with each other, as you are colleagues.”

Yep, Masaru’s sure to have no problems getting along with this person whom you just lengthily explained is way more awesome than he is despite being the same age as him.

Masaru certainly doesn’t seem too happy about this.

Tohma:  “I think it will be futile to do so, Captain Satsuma. There is not a chance that this person could benefit DATS.”

Masaru:  “What d’you mean?!”

[Tohma only barely glances at Masaru before turning back to the Captain]

Tohma:  “People like him should be dismissed at once.”

…Though, it turns out, Tohma is also equally unwilling to even attempt to play nice. All this barely even glancing at Masaru and talking about him rather than to him is kind of a dick move. Really, Masaru and Tohma are being equally as rude to each other here, albeit in completely different ways.

Masaru:  “Say that to my face! Look into a person’s eyes when they’re talking!”

And I love that this in particular is what gets to Masaru the most. He’s always so straightforward, and being that way is important to him. He can’t stand people beating around the bush and being vague about their intentions rather than just coming out and saying what they really mean directly to the person involved.

To be fair to Tohma, he does actually listen and look Masaru straight in the eye this time.

Tohma:  “You and your partner are not suited for DATS.”

Yoshino:  “Tohma!”

I like Yoshino protesting here. Even she thinks this is going a bit far.

And it is a bit far, really – sure, Tohma caught a glimpse of Masaru and Agumon’s rather unfortunate fight against the PetitMeramon earlier, but that’s hardly enough evidence to decide that they have absolutely nothing to offer. This says less about Masaru and Agumon and more about Tohma himself: he’s something of a perfectionist, and he doesn’t like the idea of working with anyone who doesn’t match up to his very high standards.

(College degree as a teenager? Member of Austrian nobility? Yeah, we can already guess where some of that might come from.)

Masaru, being Masaru, has had enough and just tries to punch Tohma – but he blocks it easily.

Tohma:  “Really, now. You want to face me with that level of power? How incredibly pathetic.”

Masaru:  “What do you mean, ‘that level’? How strong does that make you, then?!”

This is the first person Masaru’s met in probably a really long time who’s said anything to the effect that he’s not strong enough, who’s implied that there’s some other, higher level of strength that Masaru just doesn’t have yet. He’s not used to thinking of his strength in those terms, and feeling inferior. Isn’t he supposed to be the number one street fighter in Japan? How can there be any kind of greater strength he doesn’t have?

Tohma:  “Do I have to answer that?”

Masaru:  “Yeah! Go on, show me! Let’s see the truth behind all that bragging!”

Of course Tohma has to answer that and actually prove himself! Masaru is all about actions rather than words; if someone’s claiming they’re stronger than him, there’s no way he’s going to just accept that until he tests it out for himself.

It turns out Tohma is indeed perfectly willing to put his money where his mouth is, because we cut to what’s presumably a gym somewhere in the DATS HQ, in which there is a boxing ring. I might call this awkwardly convenient, but no, actually, since Tohma used to work here (and he’s into boxing, as we’re about to see), it makes a lot of sense that he might have asked to have one installed for himself to use recreationally in between missions.

Yoshino:  “Hey! Put on your headgear!”

Masaru:  “I don’t need it! Besides, he’s not wearing any!”

Masaru and Tohma are both being reckless idiots here, pointlessly endangering themselves because of their pride. They’re both telling themselves “I don’t need to protect myself to win against him”, and they’re certainly not going to be the only one to wear headgear while the other doesn’t and end up looking like they’re only winning because they have an unfair advantage, or like they’re wearing it because they’re worried.

It is notable that Yoshino is only trying to encourage Masaru to wear the headgear. Apparently she’s already expecting Tohma to have the upper hand here? Ouch.

As you’d expect, the first few moves of the fight are Masaru throwing wild punches at Tohma while he easily dodges them all.

Tohma:  “You put all your faith in power without using any strategy or tactics.”

Which pretty much sums up the entire Masaru-Tohma contrast going on here: reckless power versus careful strategy.

Tohma:  “Why did you join DATS?”

Masaru:  “Huh?! It was so I could win, obviously!”

Tohma:  “Against who?”

Masaru:  “Against strong guys!”

Look at how Masaru doesn’t even think to specify who he wants to win against at first, because the exact opponent he’s fighting isn’t the point. He just wants to challenge himself and prove to himself how strong he is by winning those challenges, and fighting Digimon happens to be the best way for him to do that right now.

Also look at how Masaru has completely stopped caring about the part where the other reason he joined was so that Agumon wouldn’t be taken from him. That genuinely does not matter to him any more, now that he’s here anyway because he wants to be.

(So it’s actually kind of a bit much that Tohma is insisting Masaru should be dismissed from DATS – because that would mean he’d lose not only this job, but also Agumon.)

Tohma finally stops just dodging and counters with a blow to Masaru’s stomach – the first punch that’s actually landed for either of them – giving him a sense of the high ground as he says these next words.

Tohma:  “What a boring story. DATS has an important mission. Every member has an obligation and a responsibility to carry that out.”

It’s very appropriate that Tohma would be so disdainful of Masaru being here for entirely personal reasons, while he feels like this whole thing is supposed to be about a sense of duty for a greater purpose. That noble Norstein family heritage is showing just a little bit.

Obviously, DATS’s general mission of covering up Digimon incidents is indeed important, but so long as he helps them do that anyway, what does it actually matter if that’s not the reason Masaru’s here?

Masaru:  “Shut up! Stop acting all elite!”

Masaru still does not like Tohma constantly acting like he’s better than him, like he’s just this perfect superhuman who doesn’t even have any personal desires of his own other than to do as he’s supposed to.

Tohma:  (He’s beyond help.)

Geez, Tohma, that is going a bit far. Again, he’s just writing Masaru off entirely because he doesn’t fit Tohma’s idea of how things should be, rather than trying to understand his different view on things.

(But of course, Masaru is not really being any better about trying to understand Tohma’s perspective and is currently similarly writing him off as an elitist jerk who needs to be taken down a peg.)

Tohma follows this thought up by punching Masaru right in the face, implying he’s been going easy until now and has finally started getting serious, expecting this single blow to end this. Which it does, because Masaru is knocked to the ground and doesn’t manage to rise for Yoshino’s count of ten, making Tohma the winner of this boxing match.

(please appreciate this look on Masaru’s face as he realises that Tohma has arguably beaten him, that maybe he really is inferior)

…But of course Masaru’s not just gonna stand for that. As Tohma is about to leave the ring, Masaru finally manages to get to his feet anyway.

Masaru:  “Wait right there… You really are… spouting a lot…”

Tohma:  “The match is over.”

Masaru:  “Match? What we’re having is a serious fight! It’s not a game!”

He doesn’t care about anything so pointlessly official as a match or a countdown to determine the winner. Settling their differences and proving who’s strongest goes way beyond those silly arbitrary restrictions!

With these words, Masaru manages to punch Tohma just as hard in the face… albeit only because Tohma was turned away and not quite ready to defend himself. Still, as far as Masaru would see it, in terms of his usual kind of fights, that’s on him! If he turned away from an opponent who’s still able and willing to fight him, that’s just letting his guard down!

Masaru:  “A fight doesn’t end until one side admits defeat!”

That’s the only rule Masaru needs for his street fights. So long as the combatants are still willing to fight each other, anything goes!

In fairness to Tohma, he doesn’t even complain about Masaru catching him off guard and seems quite willing to accept these new “terms” for the fight, because they jump right back into beating each other up.

We cut to later in the main control room.

Masaru:  “Damn it… That bastard…”

Yoshino:  “You should be happy it was a draw!”

Who’s betting it was Yoshino’s decision that it was a draw. I can’t imagine either Masaru or Tohma being willing to even admit to that much. After a while of them trading blows and obviously being quite evenly matched to the point that this could end up going on forever, Yoshino probably stepped in and insisted they call it off as a draw before they seriously hurt each other.

Yoshino:  “Tohma’s beaten Olympic champions in the past.”

…Yeah, so also on top of everything else, Tohma is a supremely talented boxer. But I don’t mind, because something like that is necessary for him to be able to equal Japan’s number one street fighter in a fistfight. And his fighting style being the precise and controlled sport of boxing rather than anything-goes street brawls once again serves to contrast their approaches. Tohma’s boxing talent is just another part of making him Masaru’s equal and opposite. These two are such good foils for each other.

Masaru:  “Well, I’ve taken out the leader of the third Minato high school!”

That is totally an equivalent thing here, right. He’s successfully beaten tough guys, too, the context doesn’t matter. Masaru was expecting to win and not just draw, damn it!

Yoshino:  “Really, the only things worthy of a gold medal around here are your pride and your competitive attitude.”

I love her snark. She’s not wrong. (Though really, Tohma’s pride would be giving Masaru just as much competition for that medal.)

I also love how pouty Masaru is.

It’s interesting how Yoshino’s putting band-aids on Masaru’s bruises, yet Tohma then walks into the room (still barely acknowledging Masaru) with an equally bruised face, and Yoshino’s not trying to tend to him. It’s like how she was only trying to get Masaru to wear the headgear earlier and not Tohma.

At this point, I doubt this is so much about thinking Masaru is weaker and more in need of this than Tohma, since she just watched them match each other in a fight. So maybe it’s more that Yoshino finds Masaru more approachable than Tohma. For all his reckless stubbornness, Masaru’s basically still a regular person, while Tohma’s from a whole other world to her. Perhaps she simply feels more comfortable directing this mom-friend behaviour at Masaru rather than Tohma, despite having known Tohma for longer.

The Digimon-signal alarm blares and Masaru instantly shifts to this excited grin. What a dork.

It’s more PetitMeramon. A lot of them. Turns out that if even the tiniest flame from their body is left behind, it can develop into a new PetitMeramon. Hearing this prompts Masaru to recall his earlier unsuccessful attempts to punch it, which only succeeded in sending little embers from its body flying everywhere.

Masaru:  (This is my fault…)

It’s admirable of Masaru to immediately acknowledge this rather than stubbornly try and make excuses to himself and pretend he totally didn’t mess anything up at all. But it is notable that he’s not saying that out loud. Which is probably because Tohma’s in the room, and he doesn’t want to give Tohma even more ammo to keep claiming that he’s a liability here.

Kudamon:  “It’s up to you, Tohma, Gaomon.”

Masaru:  “Wait! Those fireballs are ours to beat!”

Masaru insists this partly because he’s still frustrated that he didn’t get to finish the fight himself earlier, but almost certainly also because he feels responsible for this. This is his mess, and he wants to at least make up for it by being the one to fix things.

Tohma:  “Are you 100% certain you can secure these Digimon?”

Masaru:  “Damn right! We’ll pull it off somehow using our spirits!”

Such certainty. Masaru is definitely the kind of person to optimistically throw himself into things without being sure what the outcome will be. Usually, it might be reasonable to bank on that, but against this particular enemy which Masaru and Agumon currently have no way of even damaging… probably not.

Satsuma:  “This time, Tohma and Gaomon are best for the job.”

Satsuma realises this, too, of course. I like how he’s specifying that this is only because Tohma and Gaomon are more suited for this particular job, which is extremely true, and not that they’re better overall, which Masaru would not respond well to.

Satsuma:  “Yoshino. You and Lalamon will go to support Tohma.”

Which is to say, Yoshino will drive the car, because Tohma isn’t old enough to do that. (Lalamon won’t really be doing anything at all.) Tohma came to the earlier fight from his limo, but it seems that was only because he was being driven to DATS HQ and happened across the Digimon on the way. Limousines are not the usual DATS-approved method of transportation to Digimon incidents, funnily enough.

Masaru, having been ordered to stay behind and just watch them, is left feeling frustrated and inadequate.

(It’s really only because you can���t punch fire, Masaru!)

Gaomon fighting alone against the swarm of PetitMeramon achieves basically nothing, so Tohma very quickly switches from “Plan A” to “Plan A-2” and evolves him. (I like how it’s not “Plan B” and is totally just an alternate version of the first plan. It’s definitely not that trying to fight a swarm of several Child-level Digimon with a single Child-level was ever a bad plan and really he should have evolved Gaomon from the start.)

It’s a neat detail that Tohma clicks his fingers to summon his Digisoul. Yoshino does kind of a similar thing, not clicking her fingers but instead making a very particular emphatic motion with her hand. It’s like they need some sort of psychological trigger to get it to work – which then also makes it slightly less ridiculous that Masaru needs to outright punch a Digimon to get his to show up. It’s just a stronger kind of psychological trigger, is all! And Tohma and Yoshino have been doing this for a long time. Maybe it usually takes a lot of practice to be able to get one’s Digisoul to show up on command, and the reason why Masaru’s has this extra condition to trigger it is actually because he’s new at this.

I want to take this moment to inform everyone that Gaogamon is a very good fuzzy doggy. He’s one of my favourite Digimon designs.

As an Adult-level, Gaogamon is exponentially stronger than these Child-level PetitMeramon and can easily take down the entire swarm of them in a single attack. Digimon evolution levels, everybody. This isn’t even Gaogamon being especially impressive; this is just how it was always going to turn out.

Tohma:  “3 minutes, 47 seconds. We shortened it by another minute.”

Okay, so, some of Tohma’s genius traits can come across as a little bit silly in practice, such as this idea here that he and Gaomon have been timing themselves in their fights against rogue Digimon and constantly bringing that time down. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that each opponent they fight is different, so really it should be completely unreasonable to act like their times for each fight are at all comparable and that completing one fight faster than another means anything. (Plus, this is a thing that’s never going to come up again.)

Still, I do appreciate the narrative purpose of this bit – to show that Tohma is always pushing to improve himself and be better, despite being so incredibly hypercompetent at everything he does already. A lot like Masaru is always striving to challenge himself and get stronger despite already feeling like the strongest fighter in Japan! They are really not so different in a lot of ways.

Also, note how Tohma is getting to fight here, but it’s not the climactic fight of the episode. Just like I talked about for Yoshino in the previous episode: even though this is his introduction, this is not actually Tohma’s episode. It’s still Masaru’s. Tohma gets to have this fight and win it not for his own sake (the whole thing is so effortless that it’s not at all an interesting narrative from his point of view), but rather for the sake of Masaru’s conflict in this episode, because seeing how good Tohma is at this contributes to Masaru’s feelings of inferiority.

Agumon:  “Wow…”

Having watched Tohma and Gaomon’s performance from HQ, even Agumon can’t help but be impressed. But then he catches himself and looks guiltily at Masaru, realising he’s just making him feel worse. Aww.

It is interesting to note how, despite all the similarities between him and Masaru, Agumon himself doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by being outclassed by Gaomon in the same way. After all, he’s still a kid who knows he’s got a lot to learn from his aniki; Agumon has never tried to present himself as the best person around at fighting like Masaru does.

Kudamon:  “Understand now? This is the difference in ability between you and Tohma.”

Kudamon is apparently quite happy to imply that Masaru is significantly inferior to Tohma. Satsuma, though, doesn’t say anything to agree. I get the sense that Kudamon was a lot less on board with bringing Masaru into DATS, even though he ultimately accepted Satsuma’s decision to do so.

Masaru rushes out of the control room in frustration, with Agumon following.

Kudamon:  “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

Satsuma:  “Leave him alone.”

I like that Satsuma gets that this is something Masaru needs to figure out on his own, and that trying to talk to him directly about this is probably only going to make him feel worse.

(It’s this kind of approach of Satsuma’s that makes me think that him being so indirect about recruiting Masaru was on purpose out of him wanting Masaru to make the decision for himself.)

Masaru runs out of the DATS building through a tunnel that I’m pretty sure incidentally happens to be the same one we saw Agumon escaping through at the very beginning of the first episode.

Agumon:  “Aniki… Why are you angry?”

Masaru:  “Shut up!”

[Masaru trips in his running and falls to the ground]

Masaru:  “Damn it…”

I enjoy how Masaru tripping over serves to illustrate how his unthinking recklessness doesn’t always end well.

Agumon:  “Well, I think Tohma and Gaomon are nasty guys too, but…”

Aww, Agumon, trying to show that he’s still on his aniki’s side. And, yeah, he agrees that Tohma and Gaomon have been kind of dicks to them so far, but… (but still, he doesn’t get why Aniki is this upset about it.)

Masaru looks at Agumon with this bitter look for a moment, almost like he’s tempted to agree and just keep sniping at Tohma… but then he drops it.

Masaru:  “No… It’s myself that I’m mad at, not them.”

Of course that’s been what this is really about. This is the first time in a long time that Masaru’s been given any sense that he’s not good enough at something he really wants to do. This isn’t about Tohma; Tohma’s presence just brought this out of him.

And hey, big props to Masaru for being willing to admit this! He couldn’t quite do so at HQ in front of everyone, and especially not in front of Tohma himself, but at least he’s willing to do so here in front of Agumon. A weaker person could easily have kept insisting that, no, this totally is all about that arrogant jerk Tohma, and avoided the necessary self-reflection, but Masaru is generally pretty good at being emotionally honest about things, even when it stings.

He also happens to pull the band-aid off his face at this moment, which I enjoy – needing his wounds patched up is a sign of weakness that he doesn’t like having.

Masaru:  “Damn it! What am I doing? Really… what the hell am I doing?”

You’re doing your best, Masaru! Just like you’ve always, always been doing!

I really like how Masaru can’t actually properly articulate what the problem is. He knows there’s something wrong, something that’s frustrating him about himself, but he can’t put it into words. It doesn’t seem like he’s properly consciously aware of why he’s so into his whole fighting thing, and why he wanted to “fight stronger opponents” through joining DATS, so he can’t quite grasp why feeling like he’s not good enough at this bothers him so much.

Also, my compliments to the animators, and to Masaru’s VA. He looks and sounds like he’s on the brink of tears here, and it is good.

Masaru reaches the end of the tunnel… and who should he run into but the old man who gave him his Digivice, who’s sitting there cooking a fish like nothing is more natural.

Old man:  “It’s hard lighting up a fire… The sparks go out easily whenever the wind gets a little too strong.”

Masaru:  “Well, obviously!”

Old man:  “But… once I get a larger flame going, it burns strongly no matter how much the wind blows. Fire is an interesting thing, isn’t it?”

What we learned about the old man last episode is that he finds Masaru interesting and likes randomly showing up whenever Masaru is acting in a way that he considers to be interesting. Apparently, he got wind somehow of the fact that Masaru has been having these doubts, and so he showed up to just… observe, and express his observations in metaphor form. He’s comparing Masaru to the fire, saying that right now his “sparks” aren’t quite strong enough to keep going when something challenges them – but that soon enough, if he just keeps growing more, he’ll become so strong that nothing will be able to stand in his way.

That said, I highly, highly doubt that the old man expects Masaru to actually learn anything from this metaphor – I’m sure he must know well enough to expect anything and everything metaphorical to go right over Masaru’s head. This isn’t actually an attempt to give Masaru advice. This guy just likes being a mysterious old man who makes abstract metaphors about people he finds interesting, that’s all. Sooner or later, Masaru’s flame is going to burn so brightly that nothing at all can blow it out, and won’t that be fascinating to watch?

(I agree, old man. It will. That’s why I’m here, too.)

[Masaru stares intently at the fire the old man has managed to light]

Masaru:  “This is…”

And naturally, Masaru, who wouldn’t understand a metaphor if it punched him in the face, completely failed to pick up on what the old man was getting at. Instead, what this metaphor also coincidentally (or maybe not so coincidentally?) happened to be was some pretty useful advice on how to deal with the very literal, practical problem he’s been having today.

Before he can think on that further, Masaru hears a conversation over his earpiece. There’s more PetitMeramon signals, in a place where gas tanks are – not a great place for living fireballs to be flying around – and Yoshino and Tohma are 10 minutes away in their car.

Masaru:  “Leave it to me!”

Yoshino:  “Huh? What are you saying?”

Tohma:  “You can’t do it!”

Masaru:  “Shut up! I can get there in 3 minutes!”

The perfect opportunity for Masaru to get the chance to prove himself! Under other circumstances, it’d be arguably better for Masaru to stay back and leave this to Tohma again. Having shown some self-reflection on things, even Masaru himself would probably be willing to accept that and relent. But in an emergency like this, when he’s the closest one to it? Damn it, he has to at least try.

Since the “there” in question was only described as being “Area B-42”, what we have to conclude from this is that somehow Masaru has magically memorised all those location codes already. He doesn’t seem to be making this up to save face; he’s looking at an area off in the distance that he’d probably reasonably be able to sprint to in that time.

(Well, either that or he just assumed based on knowing that this is the only remotely nearby area with gas tanks. Maybe it’s that.)

Satsuma:  “I won’t approve of this!”

Masaru:  “Whatever, just watch! I’ll get ‘em this time!”

This isn’t Masaru arrogantly trying to show off and refusing to acknowledge that he’s unsuited for this. This is Masaru genuinely caring about trying to prevent the crisis if he can – and this time, he does have at least some idea of how to go about doing so.

Masaru makes it to the gas tanks, where there are indeed three PetitMeramon floating around.

Masaru:  “Agumon! Use Baby Burner!”

I’m… not sure how Masaru knew that Agumon even has an attack called Baby Burner, since he’s never used it before. I would say he could have had some kind of offscreen fight as a DATS member already in the three days he’s been here, but Yoshino’s response to his failure earlier suggested that today was indeed his first proper DATS mission.

Agumon:  “My attacks don’t work on them!”

Masaru:  “You heard me, do it!”

Agumon:  “Okay…”

Agumon is such a loyal follower! He doesn’t understand why this is a good idea – in fact, it seems like a thoroughly bad one – but he trusts his aniki’s judgement and does it anyway, even as it only seems to make the PetitMeramon stronger and Masaru keeps ordering more.

After enough fire, the three PetitMeramon grow strong enough to fuse together and evolve into Meramon. (Hey, at least this one’s a non-partnered evolution that makes sense to be happening right now.)

Agumon:  “It evolved! What now, Aniki?”

[Masaru grins]

Masaru:  “This is perfect!”

I love Masaru’s cocky taunting face here. He knows he’s got this, and he’s so ready to just have a good old fight again, like always.

Masaru:  “Fire sparks easily go out whenever the wind blows on them. But… Once they burst into flame…!”

[Masaru leaps to punch the Meramon quite solidly in the face and lands with his Digisoul flaring]

Masaru:  “They won’t be extinguished so easily!”

This was what he got out of the old man’s words. Not metaphorical advice about his emotional struggles, of course not – instead, just very literal advice on how to punch fire. He couldn’t punch the PetitMeramon because they were small enough that the wind of his punches just blew the flames out before he could connect. But if he makes the fire bigger and stronger? Then it’s no problem!

And you know what this is? This is Masaru using strategy. It’s a strategy that he needed someone else to nudge him towards – he’s still not really the kind of person to come up with something like this on his own – and it’s also a much more straightforward, reckless, Masaru-style strategy than someone cautious like Tohma would ever dare to use. But hey. It worked.

(Also, please appreciate this ridiculous shot of the DATS car skidding sideways as it dramatically arrives on the scene. That is not how cars work, but okay. …In fact, surely it’s been less than seven minutes that Masaru’s been here; I guess Yoshino floored it to get here as fast as she could, hence the dramatic skidding? She drives like a badass.)

Tohma:  “He got it to evolve on purpose… by making the fire stronger…”

See, even Tohma appreciates what the strategy was, even if he’s kind of gobsmacked at it being something so reckless.

And then, as usual, GeoGreymon wins the fight in a single attack. But again, I don’t really mind. The interesting part was getting to this point in the first place.

The Meramon disintegrates into three eggs, appropriate for the three PetitMeramon it came from – but it kinda raises some questions that this single Adult-level Digimon was effectively three individual Digimon in one. It also raises some questions that PetitMeramon was able to multiply itself just by its embers setting stuff on fire, and each of those multiplied offshoots also had its own individual egg. Is this just a particularly unique method of Digimon reproduction? I am definitely not supposed to be thinking about it this much.

Masaru:  “How’s that? I was able to take out the PetitMeramon, too!”

Having shown that he can do just as good of a job as Tohma after all, Masaru has bounced right back from his self-doubt and is feeling good about himself again. This kid doesn’t stay down for long.

Tohma:  “Don’t let this go to your head. You were just lucky this time.”

It really was not luck. Masaru used an actual strategy that he had good reason to believe would work. Tohma himself even just about acknowledged this during the fight… but not now, now that Masaru is properly listening to him and he’d have to acknowledge that to Masaru.

(A bit like how Masaru only acknowledged his own sense of inadequacy when Tohma wasn’t around.)

Masaru:  “It’s just like I told you. The ones who don’t give up until the end win the fight!”

Masaru claims this is like he told Tohma, but is it really about him? After all, Masaru himself was the one who had almost given up for a moment. It’s more like he’s saying this to remind himself that he shouldn’t have done that and should have just believed he could do it all along. (Like the old man said, he just needs to let his sparks grow into a bigger, unstoppable flame!)

We cut right from the location of the fight back to DATS HQ, while the argument amusingly continues as if there was no timeskip at all. They were probably arguing like this all the way back in the car, too. (Poor Yoshino.)

Tohma:  “Don’t be absurd. You don’t come up with any strategy or tactics. Do you think using force all the time will let you win at everything?”

He literally did come up with a strategy, though, Tohma! Maybe a strategy that relied on force, maybe not the kind of careful, cautious strategy that you’d use, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t count as a strategy!

Masaru:  “Hah, sounds like a sore loser to me.”

Yeah, I think Masaru’s spot on with this one. Tohma refusing to acknowledge Masaru’s approach in that fight as a legitimate if risky strategy really does seem like he’s just being a sore loser.

(Though I like how Masaru himself isn’t even trying to argue that it was strategic of him. Clearly that’s not something that he sees as being worth bragging about.)

Tohma:  “What did you say?”

Masaru:  “Wanna make somethin’ of it? I’ll knock you out with one hit to the face this time!”

Oh my god, Masaru. Look at this competitive dork. Now that he’s got his confidence back and feels like he is just as good or better than Tohma after all, he’s ready to have a rematch in the ring and certain that this totally means he’ll win this time!

Satsuma shuts them both up with his, quoth Yoshino, “thunderous demon roar” – apparently a regular thing of his – and declares that Masaru and Tohma will be working together as a team from now on. Naturally, they are both Not Happy about this.

Yoshino:  “This is the worst…”

Neither is Yoshino. This is a catchphrase of hers, which is sometimes used when things are going badly in a crisis, but is just as often used simply to express her sheer exasperation at the people around her. I love her role as the Only Sane Man among these two ridiculous over-the-top dorks she’s wound up working with.

Overall thoughts

I like this episode a lot! It’s a great introduction to Tohma, specifically in the context of him serving as a foil to Masaru.

There will be a lot more things about Tohma’s own issues and situation (like I said, there’s a reason for all the genius stuff, I promise) that we’ll eventually get into, but that’ll be a gradual process, because Tohma is not the sort of person to talk about his personal problems to anyone else. For now, since Masaru is the single main character of this series and we therefore see a lot of things through his perspective, it’s appropriate that Tohma is introduced in terms of how he differs from Masaru (as well as a few hints at their similarities).

Then, because of this, we get spend a lot of the episode on Masaru feeling outclassed and how he deals with that, and it’s delightful and subtle and I love it. The first two episodes were setting up the deal with Masaru encountering Agumon and joining DATS, but now that we’ve settled into a little more of a status quo, it’s the perfect time to start digging into Masaru’s character and have things begin to challenge his conception of his own strength. There will be more of this, and I’m looking very much forward to covering those episodes in particular.

This won’t really ever come up again, but it’s incidentally neat to see Masaru struggling with an enemy he can’t punch, and eventually coming up with a strategy by interpreting the old man’s metaphor about his issues literally, because of course he does.

I also just love the old man being there making metaphors about Masaru’s issues simply because he felt like it and finds Masaru interesting. He serves as a nice little narrative device to help draw the audience’s attention to when things are going on with Masaru, as we’ll see in a few more episodes in this arc. I can’t help but appreciate that about the old man, because it’s also basically what I’m doing with this commentary.

---

[Dub comparison]

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 17

Here it is!

“So, how’s your uncle?”

“Not too bad. I was tellin’ the others that he probably could come but the physio’s insisting for him to not rush things. At his age, stuff takes a real amount of time to heal up.” Mundy took a sip of his drink while Larry returned to one of the couches. Richie went to the other end of the counter, tending to other customers. That left Mundy and Mark alone. 

“How long before you think he’ll be alright?”

“Physio reckons it’s gonna be an extra month, maybe a month and a half.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Why? Does he owe you money or somethin’?” Mundy chuckled.

“No, I just miss talkin’ to him. He’s a cool guy.”

“Could still visit him at home. I'm sure he’ll be happy to see some people.” Mundy said, without thinking too much.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean…”

“If you don’t wanna, it’s fine.” Mark answered, and now for Mundy, it was clear. Mark was not asking to visit his uncle as much as he was scouting Mundy’s heart. As one would dip his toe in the water of a calm lake to measure its temperature, Mark was testing Mundy’s mood, where he stood with respect to him.

“Wanna play some darts?” The blonde asked. 

“Sure.”

Better leave it blurry, Mundy thought. There was no point anyway… Or was there? 

Both men stood a few metres away from the target and Mark threw his first dart. 

“Ha, not bad, eh?” He proudly said. 

“Yeah, true.” Mundy closed one eye and took aim. He looked at the target and saw the blurry dart in front of his face. “Hm!” He threw it.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me…!” Mark laughed and shook his head. “A bullseye? on the first try?”

“Well, if there’s somethin’ I can do, it’s aim.” Mundy said and took a step away for Mark to replace him in front of the target.

“Oh, that I know, Aussie.” Mark threw the second dart. “Ha! I’m gettin’ closer, man!”

Mundy smiled under his hat. He took Mark’s place and shot again. 

“What?! How d’you do it?!”

“Told ya.” Mundy’s raspy voice chuckled through his words. “I can aim.” He raised intense eyes to Mark. The American looked left and right. 

“Wanna get harder targets?”

“Pff, Mark-”

“It’s ok if you don’t like the challenge, eh.” The blonde quipped. “I’ll just let you win and assume it’s your luck.”

“Told you, Mark, I’m a hunter, gimme darts, arrows, a rifle, anything, and I can aim with it.”

“I'm a hunter too.”

“Are ya now? Where’s your game then?”

“Maybe…” Mark looked left and right. He took a step towards Mundy, leaving hardly a few inches between them. “... I need a few lessons from someone who's clearly better than me, and a little bit older, huh?”

“You could ask yer Dad.”

Mark's head swooshed to Larry on the couch. 

“He’s too busy right now, I wouldn’t want to bother him while he plays God knows what with his friends.”

“So you prefer to bother me?” Mundy answered and the blonde raised lustful eyes to him. Ha, Mundy had never been too good at telling the hints, seeing the signals, but the way that Mark stared at him with his hazel eyes was louder than sirens.

“Yeah.” Mark blinked delicately, or maybe he fluttered his eyes slightly. “So? Is your van free for another lil’ trip?”

Mundy pondered for a split second. His head was showing him wild pictures. Was it worth it? Would he end up living in New Mexico with Mark? Would he introduce him to his parents? Nah, he wouldn’t. Mark was way too hot-headed, Mundy did not really like that. But…

But his guts screamed at him. It had been a while since anyone had hit on him, and his ego was more than pleased with it all. The colder Mundy looked at Mark, the colder he behaved with him, the harder the young American clung to him. Gosh, Mundy loved the feeling, looking down in his eyes and seeing how much the other wanted him… When was the last time that it happened? Far too long.

“Alright.”

THe night was as dark as the last time that it had happened and the privacy of the van wasn’t enough for Mundy. He raced through the dry and golden desert of New Mexico, which now was as deep as the night could be. The Moon wasn’t there.

“Oh, yeah, M-Mundy… Take me - arh!”

The Aussie shut his head and listened to his body, to his blood pumping everywhere, to this feeling of sharing something with someone, doing something exceptionally not alone. Well, yeah, he could just lay there in his bed and do it with his hand. But nah, he was there with someone. And as Mundy looked under him at the man laying on his stomach, he felt everything mix within him. As the thrusts of his hips resounded in the slapping of his sweating skin against Mark’s, as the groans of the blonde filled him, as the golden streaks of sweat raked Marks skin under the old, yellow light in the van, Mundy realised he heard nothing and saw nothing either. 

Only his thoughts were there. The same thoughts he had when he was alone. Was that person the right one? Did he like them? Was there something in his heart that would push him to do the unthinkable for that person? Would he drop hunting for them? Would he drop hunting beasts for them? Would he drop hunting… men? Would Mark fill the part of himself that unbearably itched for decades now? Could Mundy let that itch irritate him and burn him instead of deafening it as best as he could with one-night stands? 

What did his heart think? Heart? Heart? Is there anything there for Mark and me or…? 

Ah, yeah, well… 

“Mundy, I’m gonna-I’m gonna… Arh!”

Mundy almost stopped thrusting as he rose back from his daydream. The blonde had somehow risen to his knees and elbows, and as Mundy recovered his ability to see, he realised that Mark had been frantically using his hand on himself until, well, the end. And it pulled the Aussie to finish too. 

“Oh, man… It was even better than last time…” Mark concluded as he rolled on his back.

Mundy’s lips pursed into a smile, but the voice inside him still banged at his heart’s door. 

Heart? Heart! Tell me! You can’t just not answer! C’mon! Tell me if I can hope for something with this bloke? Yes or no?! How hard can it be?!

He banged again and again, as both him and Mark cleaned up and lay down to sleep, this time together, in the narrow bunk inside the van. 

Heart?

-- A few weeks later --

It had become a habit. Mundy would meet with Mark and spend his nights with him, without either of them questioning it. And it took less and less for Mark to ask him. As of late, a simple nod of the head towards the pub’s main door sufficed to signal to Mundy that the American was in the mood.

Mundy indulged every time. Why? Because it never felt bad to have someone to do it with rather than his own hand, to be blunt. But of course, the more they met, the more Mundy wondered. And the more he wondered, the more he harassed his own heart and his head for an answer, because quite frankly, if he asked what he had below the belt, his relationship with Mark could last forever… 

During his days, Mundy became more familiar with the geography of the city and the overall State of New Mexico. He appreciated dearly the patch of desert not too far from his Uncle’s and spent time there when he wanted a corner of solace, an outer haven. And he spent his time there alone, as always. Not that he would fight anyone who would like to join him, but no one ever did want to come along. 

Not even Mark.

Mundy had asked him one day. 

“D’you wanna stay here tomorrow mornin’?”

Mark was half asleep, naked next to the Aussie in his warm van. 

“Nah…” 

“You sure?”

“What would we do here in the middle of nowhere?” The American spoke half into the pillow.

“We could spend the day huntin’, under the sun, just you and me. We’d be far from people and uh, y’know, just enjoyin’ ourselves.”

Mark chuckled in the pillow. 

“You’re a funny guy, Mundy… See ya tomorrow.”

The Aussie thought about that slice of conversation again and again, it was playing on loop in his mind as if it had been recorded on a broken disc. Was Mark just too tired to have a chat after their usual meeting? Or did he genuinely laugh at Mundy’s suggestion?

The Aussie sighed. In the silence of his lonely van, he thought about it. Hold on. Mundy may not know Mark’s intentions but he knew how he behaved. The American would always ask to be cleaned, then roll to his side and sleep. The only thing Mundy would hear from him was sometimes praise of his performance of the day, and a “Night, night.”. Well, then maybe he did not really laugh at him…?

The Aussie finally decided to exit his van. He had been parked in front of the pub for a long enough while, just lost in thought. He needed a distraction, and a beer would surely-

“Hey, Aussie.”

Mundy gasped. 

“Oh, hey, Mark. Sorry, I didn’t see ya.”

“No worries.” The blonde chuckled. “You came here early today.”

“So did you.” Mundy answered. 

“I’m just playin’ the taxi driver for my Dad. He wanted to have a chat with Richie to organise the next big party here. Samantha’s gettin’ married with Jerry.”

“Oh, alright, congrats to them then, eh…?”

“Yup.” Mark nodded. “But what're you doin’ here this early?”

“I just wanted a beer or somethin’.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

“Sure.”

Both entered the bar and got served quickly. It was too early to be really busy, although a few patrons were enjoying their lunch there. 

“So, uhm, Mark…?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you uh… Would you like to maybe spend some time in the desert?” Mundy asked with his eyes down on his beer. Mark laughed. 

“Again with the desert stuff? You like it more than lizards do!”

Mundy smiled. 

“Yeah but, I mean, it’s nice out there. Nice and calm. We could go for a bit of hunting, eat what we catch.”

“Pfff, and then what? Grill under the sun for some wild thing to make us their dinner? Nah, Mundy… You go and get roasted if you want, I like it better in the shade.”

Mundy frowned slightly.

“Right, then uh… What about somethin' else?”

“Like what? You’re not tryin’ to take me out on a date, are ya?”

“N-No, nah, I'm not the date kind of guy…” Mundy shook his head. “I just… Gets quite lonely out there, just lookin' for some company, and uh… You’re a hunter too so I thought that uh…”

“Well, it’s my father who’s big on the whole hunting thing. I follow him sometimes when I’m bored but I’m not huge on it.” Mark took a gulp of his fresh beer and Mundy’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“So you don’t wanna hang out with me sometime?”

“I think we’re good the way we are.” Mark answered. “Why change it?”

Mundy sighed. He looked at his beer and he didn’t want any of it anymore. 

“Right.” The Aussie took off and left the bar, his pint still almost completely full.

“Mundy?”

He turned back to Mark with a hand on the pub’s front door still. 

“What?”

“You angry at me?”

“No.”

“What? What’s this mean then? You just leave and you haven’t finished your beer?”

Mundy sighed and looked left and right. The last thing he wanted was his private life and his interest in men exposed to people who knew Phil very well. He entered back and went to Mark. 

“Listen, if you're just with me for the nights, I’m not in anymore.”

The bluntness with which he spoke shocked Mundy himself. 

“I thought you liked it better that way?”

“No-Yeah, I don’t know and it doesn’t matter.” He spoke between gritted teeth. 

“So much for tryin’ to make me believe you're not mad…” Mark said with a scoff. “If you don’t know what you want, I can’t answer you, Mundy.”

“Alright, then. Here’s what I’d like to know, Mark.” Mundy removed his hat and slammed it on the counter. “Are you just with me for the nights?”

“I mean, that’s what we’ve been doin’ and I-”

“Answer me.” Mundy’s fierce glare made Mark gulp down audibly before he frowned. 

“Yeah, guess I am.” The American finally admitted. 

“D’you wanna go on like this or d'you wanna…?”

“Do I wanna what?” Mark frowned, now he was as mad as Mundy. 

“I don't know!” The Aussie answered. “Maybe we could do stuff together instead of just using each other like that?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Mark asked. 

“Nothin’!” Mundy got his face closer to the American’s. “I just don’t like bein’ used, is all.”

“For someone who doesn’t like it and who’s a grown up man, you never said no, you never even raised the concern and you were the one fuckin’ me.” Mark spoke between gritted teeth for his shouts to be muffled into hard whispers. “You were the one to open your van, you were the one to get me out of my clothes, and you were the one to put it in me! Now if you didn’t want any of that, you never even gave me a clue about it! How could I have known?!”

Mundy sighed. 

“Look, I don’t know, I just… I can't go on like this.” Mundy answered and spun on his heels to leave again.

“Alright then, go back to spendin’ your days alone in the desert, see if that does you any good!”

Mundy stopped sharp. 

“What did you just say about me?” He said, slowly, and growling menacingly.

“I said: go back to the desert you like so much, I bet you’ll feel better there.” Mark repeated. 

“Pray that I never find you again, Mark.” Mundy pulled the hat down on his eyes and left.

“Or what, huh? What're you gonna do, huh? Hunt me down like I’m a deer?!” This time, Mark had raised his voice, but as he did, Mundy left and was already outside. 

The Aussie slipped in his van and drove back home. No. He needed the desert. He shifted gears to reverse. 

“Mundy! Mundy, wait!”

The Aussie  almost didn’t hear the voice calling for him. Larry came running to the van and banged the door on Mundy’s side. 

“Mundy, hold on!”

The Aussie lowered the window, his face as dark as his boiling rage made it. The shy Mundy within him wanted to blush. After all, Larry was Mark’s father. 

“Your mum’s called here, they’re asking you to go back home.”

Mundy’s eyebrows jumped and his face brightened, as if the storm raging within him a second ago had been pushed by the sun.

“Oh, uh, ok, thanks, Larry.”

“Pleasure, son, see ya!”

Mundy nodded and drove off. It took him the usual fifteen-ish minutes to reach back home. 

“Mum? You wanted to see me?” Mundy said as he entered. “Oh? What’s all that?” As he had pushed the door and entered, Mundy’s feet bumped on wicker bags. That one had towels at the top, oh, there was a cool box there. 

“Yeah, Micky, come in and go help your Uncle, will ya?”

“Sure… What’s with all the bags?” The Aussie entered the kitchen to find his mother making sandwiches. 

“We had a chat with your Uncle today. They say the weather’s gonna be real hot and sunny for the next week at least so we decided to go to the beach for a few days.”

“Oh…” Mundy’s eyebrows jumped out of surprise. “Alright, sure. You said Uncle Phil needed my help?”

“Yeah, he’s packing his stuff. I already dealt with your things and I assume you have some swimming shorts in your van, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“Then it’s all good. I’ll drive his car and you get your van with Marty next to you, yeah?”

“Works for me.” MUndy nodded with a smile.

“Perfect, now go before he goes mad. I’ve been hearing him grumble to himself…!”

“Sure, thanks, Mum.” Mundy came to leave a kiss on his Mum’s cheek. 

“No worries, baby.”

About an hour later, everything had been loaded into the van and the car, and Marty happily joined Mundy in his van, on the passenger’s seat. 

“How long is it till we get there?” Mundy asked.

“We’ll have to drive through the state and then through more or less the entirety of Texas to get to the sea.” Philip answered. “But if you ask me, better Texas than California!”

“Alright, you know your business, UNcle Phil.”

“It’s a twelve hour drive but of course, we’ll make a lot of stops and we’ll sleep on the way there. I know a few good places along the way. Used to make the trip with some colleagues at work once a year at least in summer.”

“Wow, twelve hours… I don’t think I’ve ever driven for that long.” Mundy answered. 

“It’s fine, son, we won’t do them all in one bite, eh?”

“I know, I know.. Still…! Right, let’s get started then.”

“You’ll just have to follow your mum, I’ll be with her to guide her.”

“Ok, thanks Uncle Phil.”

“Thank you, son.”

Mundy climbed in the van, on the driver’s seat. As he did so, Marty who was sitting on the passenger’s seat started wagging his tail.

“Hey, Marty, ready for the journey?”

The dog leaned into Mundy’s hand to enjoy some good head scratching. 

“Right, gimme a paw then, eh?”

The dog obeyed.

“That’s a good boy right there, good puppy. Right, Mum’s starin’, you sit and be a good boy while I drive, yeah?”

[hypfic]

Ikebukuro Otome 109: Ch. 3 First Meeting [pt. 2]

“Alright! That should be the last of ‘em!” You wiped sweat from your brow after placing down the last of your boxes. “I think we deserve a break, can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea? I bought some Caplico yesterday at the dollar store.”

“Tea sounds great, thanks y/n,” Ichiro grinned from the couch, pushing some of his bangs up out of his face. You told yourself not to stare from over the counter. 

After pouring two cups of cold tea, you walked back to the living room and handed Ichiro a glass before sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. The two of you sat in an awkward silence as you sipped your drinks, avoiding each other's eyes. 

“So uh,” Ichiro cleared his throat, “Do you want to start unpacking some of your boxes? Or would you want to go out and grab some lunch and walk around for a bit?”

You choked a bit on your drink, swallowing hard before placing the cup in your lap. “Sorry,” you chuckled embarrassedly, “But yea, I’m starving! I don’t know much around here though… I guess that’s why I have an expert here with me, huh?” You gave Ichiro a smile. 

“That is what I’m here for I guess,” he laughed along with you, a hint of pink clouding at the top of his ears, Ichiro prayed that you didn’t notice. You did. 

“Alrighty then! I just need to go grab a sweatshirt out of one of my boxes of clothes…. I’ll be right back! Don’t go anywhere!” You decided to shove the image of Ichiro’s blushing ears out of your mind. It was probably only because the two of you had been sweating by moving boxes around all day… yeah.

You close the door to your bedroom and pressed your back against it, smacking your blushing cheeks with your palms. Pull it together! God, what was this? A shoujo manga? No, this was real life, not some Otome game… Ugh, curse Ramuda for setting this all up!  You sighed and walked over to one of the boxes on the bed and fished out a random sweatshirt from the bottom. Without looking, you pulled it on over your head and hurried out of the bedroom. 

“Ok! Ready to go!” You chirped enthusiastically, grabbing your bag from behind the couch, freezing when you looked over and saw Ichiro grinning. “U-Uh… is there something on my face?”

“No, no, I was just admiring your Godzilla sweatshirt. You didn’t strike me as a fan, that’s all.”

“What? I work in video games, you didn’t expect me to be into giant fighting monsters? Gimme a break!” You teased, hoping that your confident attitude would hide your blushing face. 

“Well, I guess that’s true,” Ichiro pondered, “Are you a serious fan or just here for the aesthetic?”

“Bold of you to assume I would be simply swayed by pure aesthetics. I may work in design but I happen to be full of surprises. One of those happens to be my love for giant sea-lizards….” Might as well shoot out an embarrassing fact since you already exposed yourself with your clothing choice. “I have every movie on DVD, limited editions too…”

“I see you’re a woman of culture as well,” He chuckled, “You’ll have to show me your archives sometime, I’m impressed!”

You had to concentrate hard not to blush. “Sure! Not today though, I gotta make sure you wanna come back and see me.” 

“Hmm, I’m surprised you thought that would be an issue. I wasn’t planning on helping you move in and then leave you in the dust, no need to worry. We could have a marathon sometime!” Ichiro paused, “Ah, maybe that was a little forward… I’m just excited to have someone besides my brothers that’s interested in the same things.”

“No you’re fine! That sounds like a great plan! Uhm, but for now I’m hungry. I think I could eat an entire barbeque!” 

“Well, lucky for you I know a great spot for that!” He shot up from the couch, “It’s not that far from here, actually. I think it’s a five minute walk?” Ichiro pulled out his phone to check.

You peeked around his shoulder as he showed his phone to you, “Damn, not bad at all!” 

                                                          ——

The conversation between you and Ichiro didn’t lag as the two of you had lunch together. From the walk to the restaurant and throughout your meal, there wasn’t a dull moment. You and Ichiro seemed to have a lot in common. While he was a bit timid to admit it at first, he never really was a super social person. He used to be involved in some pretty bad stuff as a kid, so he never really had a normal, friend-filled childhood. The only two people he had as a constant were his two younger brothers and his teammates, Jiro and Saburo. Ichiro didn’t elaborate on it much, but he briefly mentioned his start in rapping and his road to where he was now. In turn, you shared your story. It was nowhere near as impressive or elaborate as the other’s, but you shared nonetheless. The two of you discussed favorite niches, anime, and games to which you shared similar tastes. You asked about his music and he asked about your designs. It was nice to just… talk to someone about what you liked and have them be interested. Ichiro also talked a lot about his brothers, proudly showing you photos of them and laughing while sharing stories. You didn’t have any siblings of your own, so it was nice to see what that life was like. By the time lunch was finished, the two of you had stayed in the restaurant till their four-o-clock closing time. Neither of you realised. You were too busy laughing to tears and enjoying yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… happy to talk to someone. Sure you always had Ramuda to lean on and chill with, his teammates too, but there was some sort of barrier there between them. With Ichiro… that barrier didn’t seem to exist. You pondered on that realisation as the two of you walked back to your apartment. Maybe it was the similar interests? The closeness in age? No, it couldn’t be the age, Ramuda and his posse weren’t too much older. Whatever it was, the two of you just… clicked. 

The two of you continued talking as you entered the elevator up to your third story apartment. You so badly wanted to reach over and push all the buttons so you could spend more time talking with him. It was getting to be well into the evening and you knew he had a family to get back to. You stopped in front of your apartment door and turned to him. 

“Thanks for all your help today, Ichiro-sa– Ichiro. I really appreciate it,” You said with a smile and a slight bow. “I would invite you in for dinner but…. I haven’t gotten any actual groceries and your brothers are probably waiting at home for you. Some other time maybe?”

“That would be awesome! Maybe we could uh watch some of your Godzilla collection too?” He smiled bashfully. 

You nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds like a perfect plan!” Your heart was pounding in your chest. 

Ichiro’s phone rang and he sighed, “That’s my queue to get home,” he sent the call to voicemail and returned it to his pocket. “It was great getting to know you today, text me and we can plan something soon,”  He waved with a grin as he turned on his heel and walked down the hall. 

After he was out of sight, you let yourself into the apartment and slid down against the door. You placed your head in your hands and screamed softly. This was bad, you couldn’t be falling for someone so easily. 

Ramuda totally knew that this would happen. That bastard. He was setting you up! He always liked to try playing Cupid with you. Ohhh you were going to kill that little pink man. 

☆♬○♩●♪✧♩　 ←previous │ next→ 　♩✧♪●♩○♬☆

T A G L I S T: @mguqiis @hypnosis-mic-smuts

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[scenesandscraps]

Boundaries

“Steven, I was reviewing some of my old notes and I found something I think you might be able to help me with,” Ford said one day, once the Shack was closed.

“What’s up, Dr. Pines?”

“I don’t suppose you know what this is?” Ford handed Steven his journal.

Steven’s face went pale. “Where’d you see that?”

“In the mountains near here, years ago. I never was able to determine what it was for.”

“It’s a warp pad. Gems use them to teleport around. They don’t usually have that big chunk taken out of the middle though.”

“Fascinating,” Ford took back his journal and jotted a note. “Have you seen many of these?” Steven shrugged. “Sure, they’re all over the planet. All over the galaxy, really.” “They’re still operational?” “I sure wouldn’t try to use that one, but yeah, I’ve used them all the time.” “I see, I see.” More scribbling. “I wonder if it’s just coincidence that it was installed here, of all places?” “Probably? They’re everywhere. But I know a Gem who might be able to find out, if you’d like.” “I’d appreciate that, my boy.” Ford smiled. “At your convenience, of course.” ***

“Hey Peridot!” Steven waved at his phone.

“Steven! How’s, whatstheplace, Inertia Drop?”

“Gravity Falls? It’s fine. But listen, I just found out there might be a warp pad near here.”

“Really? Hold on, let me look up your geographic location… hm. That’s an unusual place to put a warp pad for that facet. Gimme a minute,” Steven saw her turn to some other device. “I picked up a Gem screen to try and help connect their data network to Tubetube. And… Got it.  Special warp pad installation Gamma. It seems that there were plans for a research base there.”

“Really? Researching what?”

“It says ‘frequent anomalous occurrences’.”

“What’s that mean?”

“A lot of weird stuff happened and they wanted to know why.”

“Weird stuff?

“It looks like those same anomalies caused a lot of construction delays. There’s something about extra large wildlife, and it once rained… sucrose pellets? They didn’t get the station built before the planet was abandoned.”

“Huh.”

“Have you seen any anomalies around there??”

“Mmm…” Steven thought of the adventures the Pines family had described, and the things he’d seen himself: the rainbow bear, that wolf with the extra mouth, that twisting eyeball thing, the way the syrup here tasted and nobody offered fry bits..

“Maybe a couple?”

“The report says the warp pad was damaged. We could  probably get it up and running again. We could come see you any time!”

“Ah, er… that’s okay Peridot. We’ll talk later okay bye.” Steven hastily hung up. ***

“Why didn’t you want Peridot to fix the pad?” Connie asked during their evening call.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see her. But I kind of came out here to get some distance from the Gems, you know? If they can just warp over anytime…”

“Yeah, I get you. Still, having the option might not be so bad, if they’ll respect your boundaries. If not, you could always smash it again yourself. Graarrr!” Connie made a monster-face and Steven chuckled. “You’re right. Thanks, Connie.”

(A few weeks later)

“And there were go, good as new!” Peridot announced. Her pod robonoids, each with a different smiling face drawn in marker on the front (courtesy of Mabel), marched on to the pad and vanished in a shimmer.

“Are you sure it’s all right if I keep this one?” Ford asked, hefting one of the little automatons. Peridot laughed. 

“I doubt your primitive instruments could make sense of it anyway, so go ahead.” 

“Thanks Peridot. Just remember what we talked about, okay?” Steven said.

“Sure, sure.” She waved a hand. “No visits unless we call you first or it’s an emergency. You got it.” 

A couple days later:

“What do you mean it’s broken again?” Peridot shouted over the phone.” “Dr. Pines went back out there and it’s got a big crack again. It actually looks a lot like the first time.” Steven sent her the photo. “You know, I’d forgotten how much I hate my work getting smashed.” Peridot grumbled. “Listen, if Ford hasn’t broken it, I’ll send a signal to his robonoid to patch it again. Then I can set up a monitor to see what keeps doing this.” Within a few hours of Peridot activating the monitoring device, it picked up motion. Steven, Peridot, Ford, Mabel, and Dipper all gathered to watch her display. “Is that a werewolf?” Dipper asked. “It looks like one to me,” said Mabel, and her tone made Dipper glare at her. “Do NOT run over and flirt with the werewolf, I mean it.” “Shh!” Peridot hissed. The figure on the screen growled as it approached the warp pad, and they could hear it growling furiously. It leapt onto the warp pad and began to punch and jump on it; the sight would have been comical if not for the obvious rage the creature was experiencing. “What is it… doing? Hang on, another signal.” She rotated the sensor. Another figure came clear, humped over and slow. “What’s that?” Ford let out a murmur. “A troltle?” The others looked at him. “A troll-turtle. They’re normally very shy, I wouldn’t expect it to go near a werewolf. Or work together with it to smash something.” As that one was clearly doing. One by one, more creatures came into the screen, all of them with one clear goal: attacking the warp pad. None of them seemed able to make a dent in it, but it didn’t seem to dissuade them at all. Then the screen began to shake. One tremor, and another, and another. Ford let out a gasp when the source pulled itself onto the screen: an enormous lizard, its skin covered in gray, rocky protrusions, its tiny black eyes like smoldering coals. “Is that a mountain-root monitor? They’re supposed to be extinct.” “It looks pretty tinct to me,” Mabel said. “If ‘tinct’ means ‘pissed off’.” When it reached the pad, the lizard lifted its head and slammed it down onto the glassy surface. It had a stony extension beneath its chin, and the weight was such that it left a clear crack in the pad. Another slam, and another, and suddenly the spell over the gathered creatures seemed to be broken. Some instantly scampered away, others slowly trundled off. As though by unspoken agreement, none seemed inclined to attack one another. Steven could swear that the lizard gave their sensor a look of pure hate as it passed.

“Well, I guess we know why the base never got finished,” Steven said. “But why would they attack the warp pad?” “Does it put out any kind of signal?” asked Ford. “Well, of course,” Peridot said. “Every warp pad is in constant contact with the galaxy warp. But its quantum vibrations shouldn’t be detectable by Earth fauna.” “/Shouldn’t/ be,” said Ford, scribbling notes furiously.  “But weirdness is the rule in gravity falls. All of the enraged creatures were cryptids. I wonder what sort of common sense they have?” “But what do we /do/ about it?” asked Dipper. “We have to leave it alone, don’t we?” asked Steven. “We can’t keep repairing it and it really seemed to be hurting them.” “Oh, that’s easy,” Peridot said. “I can modify it with a physical activation key so it’s unpowered and disconnected until you turn it on. That’ll mean you need to activate it from this end before it can be used at all, though.” “That’s perfect!” Steven said, just a little too quickly. “Um, I mean, that sounds like it’s best for everyone.” In his mind, he offered a silent thanks to all the angry cryptids. 

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/4/21

yeah yeah yeah may the fourth be with you whatever this is mostly me rambling disjointedly about the bits and pieces of star wars i crammed into my weekend

i think the star war that is the best-made and most watchable on a technical level (including script) is ESB. however, AOTC is my fuckin favorite bc there’s so much fucking nonsense happening all the the goddamn time. incoherent movie with too many sidequests but it all looks sick as shit

my personal history with star wars is: watched it (like many other movies) juuuuust a little too young with my dad as a Bonding Activity (to the silent fury of my mom) but unfortunately got Really Into It. reading expanded universe novels (nearly all of them, i have almost two hundred of them in boxes in a storage unit) was the thing that kept me alive through high school. never really got into the comics, didn’t pick up any of the post-disney-nuking-the-expanded-universe novels. was horribly disappointed by the sequel trilogy and solo. rogue one is all right. however, the mandalorian (weird and cheesy as it is, also i am not immune to pedro pascal) really got me back into this stupid fucking franchise. so i have been taking a rambling walk through things that i remembered liking. all my fun star wars facts are old and outdated but they sure all do live in my brain

listening ‘General Grievous’ off the ROTS soundtrack. this is i think the beginning of my love for heavy low rumbling undercurrents? would not say this has a ‘groove’ per se but there is definitely a forward momentum. love some ominous brass. love the williams panic-spike strings. LOVE A DANGER WARNING LEITMOTIF

god u listen to the original + prequel soundtracks and then listen to the sequel soundtracks (as i have been doing during working hours for the past week) and i get really sad. should have let him retire in peace. he doesn’t have a ton of gas left.

anyway this is the bit of the movie where obi-wan shows up on utapu (the cool sinkhole planet) with the big lizard bird to fight grievious btw. good fight. why does he flirt with the big robot man when he’s already in a enemies-to-lovers flirtationship with asaaj ventress RIGHT AFTER the duchess of mandalore died in his arms??? who can say. grief makes people do weird things.

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reading rebel heist (2014, kindt & castiello). these are some of the few loose single-issue comics i own bc i love the covers so much. i hate dealing with bagged and boarded comics bc they’re a pain to store and they’re honestly a pain to read. gimme a trade paperback any day please. rereading these, i liked them less than i remembered- it’s a cool conceit of following an ordinary person in the rebellion as they get caught up in luke & leia & han & chewie’s schemes, and things of course do eventually turn out fine but not before all these regular people go UHHHH WHAT THE FUCK? WTF WTF WTF NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR at some classic skywalker nonsense. can i just say how much i love these covers again tho

watching star wars: the clone wars ran from 2008 to 2020. i watched the first six seasons with my siblings on starwars.com for most of its run, bc there was a brief period of time (i forget whether it was two days after or ten days after) when you could watch each episode for free and we didn’t have cable until well after i went to college.

the second season is where it really starts to hit its stride- i haven’t gone back to watch anything as an adult but i remember liking a lot of the episodes from this season. as an adult, it’s pretty horrifying to realize how fucking stupid the clone wars were from a loss of life and material gain standpoint.

there’s a two-episode arc about the zillo beast, a big kaiju critter, and i only had enough time to watch the first one. the have to protect the oil planet (sorry, i’m getting a note in) so sorry the FUEL RESERVES on the oil planet, so they drop a giant EMP two miles from the city center, but this isn’t a planet with people that look like humans so it’s fine! the important thing is that the fuel is okay.

anyway, this episode is lovely and moody- this is such a stiff-looking show and wreathing everything in cool purple mist and making sure the silhouettes look good is really doing a lot of the work here

look i just really like this framing. the jedi on a stage above everyone else, waist-deep in blood already from the months-old war, the hint of an imperial symbol in the cannon dish, anakin & mace separated by an interior wall and separate hatches. i’m reading too much into season fucking two of the clone wars but i just think it’s neat.

yes!!! starship fuel SHOULD be bright radioactive green!!! star wars is mostly about things looking sick as shit and it’s part of why i am the way i am now

ok i fucked up on this last screenshot but look. LOOK. this is some peak nonsense right here love it. mwah. star wars is at its heart a melodramatic pulpy swashbuckling science fiction adventure and it gets weird when it forgets that

playing i own fallen order bc it came for free with my pc but i have not cracked it open bc it seems like an assassains creed, a style of game that fucking infuriates me. also i own no other star wars games so this section left intentionally blank

making i make one of these things a year now i guess. this one is finally for me.