#sorry for the overshare it’s something I’m very good at doing and do often. world champ!

[blueish-bird]

love and peace to you, today I’m practicing the tumblr ritual of saving everything to drafts to reblog later because I’m currently lacking in self to express

[the-atlas-sister]

The First Date (Damian Wayne X Reader)

So in this, you are the daughter of Green Arrow, Oliver Queen (NOT THE ARROW VERSION!! THE ANIMATED AND COMIC VERSION), and Black Canary, Dinah Lance. Also in this Dinah is dead and you have taken on the role of Black Canary

"Done!" Abby (moi!!!) exclaimed, tying the hair tie in my hair. "Aw, you look so good!" She backed up, admiring her work.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, smiling slightly. "I mean, I usually look beautiful but now I look even more beautiful," I joked.

"I know," Abby said, making me chuckle.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Six on the dot," Abby said, looking impressed. "Wow."

"It is Damian," I shrugged before my eyes widened. "I'm going on a date with Damian Wayne."

"Chill," y/b/f said, noticing my panic. "You asked him out, remember?"

"But-"

"Hey Damian," y/b/f said from the living room.

I looked at Abby, a panicked expression on my face. "You're okay," she whispered before leading me out of the bathroom.

Damian looked at me before mumbling something in Arabic. I was rusty when it came to other languages but I thought I caught "Beautiful..." which was enough to make my entire face turn red.

"Hey," I said, putting on a confident face. "You look good." My eyes scanned him. He wore a pair of nice black jeans and a matching skin-tight turtle-neck.

"You look..." His eyes scanned me.

"Gorgeous? Beautiful? Sexy?" I guessed, smirking at Damian blushed.

"Yes," Damian said, making me blush.

"Okay... well," Abby said, pushing me forward. "You two have fun," she said as I slipped on my shoes. "But not too much fun." She eyeballed Damian in a very best friend way. "And have her back by 10."

"And be safe!" Myloh added.

"Bye guys," I said, quickly ushering Damian out the door before closing it. "Sorry."

"I had a similar conversation with my brothers before I left," Damian said before cringing slightly. "Although it was a bit more-"

"I don't want to know," I said, shaking my head. "So, what do you have planned, Mr. Wayne?" I asked, walking down the apartment hallway.

"That's a surprise," Damian said with a stoic face.

"Not a huge fan of surprises," I said as we reached the elevator.

"You'll like this one," Damian stated matter-of-factly, pressing the button to the last level.

"Is that a fact?" I challenged as the elevator lowered.

"Yes," Damian stated, making me tilt my head. "I did some research and I'm sure you'll enjoy this."

"I don't know if that was meant to be sweet but it came off as creepy," I chuckled, leaning on the elevator wall.

"I just meant- I asked Abby what you're interested in," Damian explained, slowly going pink.

"What'd she say?" I asked, both worried and curious.

"She explained your love of movies, books, the stars, and food," Damian stated as the doors slid open.

"So, which did you choose?" I questioned, walking backward out of the elevator.

"Still a surprise," Damian smirked, following me.

"Mhm, game on Mr. Wayne," I said, turning around and walking out the apartment building's front doors. My eyes widened a bit as I saw Damian's motorcycle parked in front of the building. "Seriously?" I asked, looking at him as he stood next to me.

"Complaining?" he asked, looking at me sideways.

"Not as long as I get to drive," I chuckled, approaching the motorcycle.

"No," Damian said, standing next to me. He grabbed one of the helmets before handing me the second one.

"I know how," I frowned.

"No," Damian repeated before blinking. "Strange, that felt familiar." He then shook his head before getting on the bike. "Come on," he said looking at me. I rolled my eyes but climbed on the bike behind him. "Hold on," he said before putting on his helmet.

"You sure you don't want to drive as a way to get me to hold on to you?" I teased, resting my head on Damian's shoulder. Damian tensed up, making me chuckle. "I was kidding," I reassured him, putting on the helmet and grabbing his shoulders.

Damian cleared his throat. "I-I respect you, but for your own safety, I suggest you put your arms around my waist."

I blushed, wrapping my arms around his waist. Damian started the bike and drove out of his parking spot. My grip tightened as Damian sped up and we reached the highway. I grinned under the helmet as the adrenaline rushed through me due to the speed.

***

"You have to take me on your motorcycle more often," I said, letting out a breathy laugh and taking off my helmet.

"It's not really mine," Damian corrected, taking off his helmet and getting off the bike.

"But with Promythous-" I furrowed my brows, placing the helmet on the bike's seat.

"That was Robin's bike," Damian explained, leading me to the secret destination. He had parked a block away from the surprise place, just to keep the secrecy. "Damian Wayne does not have a motorcycle."

"Who's-" I continued, getting into pace next to Damian.

"My brother's," he shrugged with a small smug smile.

"You stole your brother's motorcycle?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"He told me, women love men with motorcycles," Damian said. "So I took that as an invitation for me to 'borrow' his." He smirked to himself at the thought. "Also, my other brother said I should. I'm not one to listen to him but, I did enjoy the idea of stealing Jason's bike." I smiled at his mini-rant. He seemed to notice. "I'm sorry for oversharing," he said, his face returning to it's neutral state.

"No, it's fine," I reassured him as we turned a corner. "It's nice hearing you talk more."

Damian blinked, obviously surprised by my answer. "What... would you like to talk about?" he asked slowly.

"You," I said. "I don't know much about you."

"O-oh," Damian stuttered, which was a rare sound. "I grew up with the League of Assassins."

"The group your father trained with?" I asked, interested to learn more. "Lead by Ra AlGugl?"

"My grandfather," Damian confirmed. "When my father was training, he met my mother. She- she tricked him into having... intercourse with her. That's how I was created. My father left before I was born and I was raised by my grandfather and mother. I was trained from birth to be the master assassin. I was supposed to be the best. There was no room for error."

"That doesn't sound like a fun childhood," I said.

"I suppose not," Damian hummed. "I loved my grandfather very much, or more admired him. He told me we would destroy the world and rebuild it in our own image." He scanned our surroundings, almost as if he was imagining how he could make each detail superior.

"That's still partly your mindset isn't it?" I asked, making Damian's gaze turn to me. "You see the world and people and just imagine how you can make them better." Damian blinked. "You even yourself believe you're better than everyone. You think you'll be a better Batman, a better hero."

"I don't-"

"I'm not critiquing, just observing," I stated. I blushed under Damian's intense stare. "I-I interrupted, I'm sorry. What about your mother?"

"She's dead," Damian said.

"Oh," I said.

"She wasn't a mother anyway," Damian continued. "Last I saw her she tried to create an adult 'perfect' clone of me and killed him."

"And I thought my dad was hardcore," I mumbled. "How did she...?"

"Helicopter crashed after trying to kill me, my father, and Grayson," Damian said almost casually.

My eyes widened. "You didn't deserve it," I said as we turned yet another corner. Damian turned to me. "You deserved a loving childhood. Not one with a group of assassins and Batman."

Damian's eyes softened. "I did get, what you call, a loving childhood with my father," he said. "He would set up movie nights. And my brothers are... overly loving, at least Grayson."

"He's Nightwing, right?" I asked, grinning a bit. Damian nodded. "I've met him. He has a bit of an older brother feel. And I'm sure he understands how hard it is to grow up with someone like Bruce."

"He has made it very clear he does," Damian scoffed. "As had Todd." I gave him a questioning look. "Red Hood."

"Oh, never met him," I mumbled.

We walked in comfortable silence for a minute.

"Here," Damian said, stopping in front of a small and quaint ice cream shop.

"Ice cream?" I asked, giving him a lopsided grin. "On Friday."

"You said you and your mother used to always had ice cream on Fridays," Damian said shyly.

I let out a small laugh. "You- this is really sweet," I said, a bit surprised. I remembered when I told him that detail about my childhood.

***Flashback***

"Tell me more about your mother," Damian said after a while of silence. "I assume she's where you got your power?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "She was- awesome. She was the first Black Canary. Trained in thousands of martial art styles."

"You're telling me things I already know," Damian stated, making me look at him.

"She was a pretty cool mom," I chuckled, crossing my legs on the bed. "She couldn't cook though. That was something she wasn't taught. She'd always make time for us to have an ice cream night. Every Friday." I smiled at the memory. "Sometimes she'd come back from patrol at midnight then wake me up, just so we could still eat ice cream."

"Do you still do it?" Damian questioned, turning to face me fully. "With your father?"

"Not usually," I stated, trying not to sound bitter. "He's usually busy with the Justice League and his company."

"How did she die?" Damian asked softly, making me go stiff.

"I was thirteen," I recited. "She and my dad went to face Prometheus. It was just in the early stages of my training-at least for the Canary cry, so I wasn't allowed to go. I- I remember my dad calling the house. He told me he'd be home soon, but something happened to Mom. Apparently, Prometheus slit her throat. She didn't want anyone to find out her identity so she insisted that only Martian Manhunter or Batman operated on her."

"But it was too late," Damian assumed. I nodded.

"Dad and I hardly even spoke after that," I sighed. "It hit us both- hard, but after a year, we got through it. He's still protective though."

"What about your powers?"

"I don't use them," I stated. "My mom died before we got far in training."

"Why don't you continue?" Damian asked. "I assume the league would be open to help or your friends."

"I can't," I sighed. "My vocal cords are too old."

"That sounds like an excuse," Damian stated. "I was unaware you were a quitter, Queen."

***End of flashback***

"I just figured you'd enjoy it," Damian shrugged, turning his head to the side to hide his smile.

"I do," I chuckled. "Although this is very cliche."

"I have seen as such in many of the movies Grayson forced me to watch," Damian admitted.

"Thank you, Damian," I smiled before rushing towards the outside counter, Damian following. "Hello!" I said to the person at the counter.

"Hello," the person said. She was a pretty girl, seemingly teen age with flawless makeup. She looked like she belonged at Dutch Brothers.

"I would like two scoops of y/f/i.c (your favirote ice cream) in a cup, please," I said before turning to Damian.

"Awesome," the girl said. "And you?"

Damian glanced at me. "None for me," he answered.

"You're not going to get anything?" I asked.

"I've never had ice cream," Damian admitted.

"Never?" I asked in shock.

"No," Damian said, his face showing me he didn't understand the problem. I scanned his face before turning to the girl.

"He'll have one scoop of almond in a cup," I stated.

"Alright," the girl smiled. "Be right with you."

"I said I didn't want any," Damian said, looking at me.

"You've never had it and you can't just sit there watching me eat," I protested. "Plus, I think you'll like it."

"Why is that?" Damian challenged.

"I'm an observer of people and you seem like an almond guy," I summarized.

"Explain your thinking Miss Queen," Damian said.

"Well, almond is more of a traditional Arabic ice cream flavor (please correct me if I'm wrong, I got this off the internet), and knowing you, you prefer salty and savory over sweet," I explained before leaning back and spreading my hands like I was presenting an amazing discovery.

"We shall see," Damian just said.

"Here," the girl chimed in, interrupting our discussion. She handed us our ice cream.

"Thank you," I said. I placed my ice cream on the counter before pulling out my wallet, but Damian had already paid. "I was going to pay," I said as he handed me my ice cream.

"It's proper etiquette for the man to pay," Damian said, leading me away from the ice cream shop.

"But it's not required," I chuckled. "Besides, we're both the children of billionaires." Damian didn't answer as he led me to a small park beside the shop. "I'll just pay next time."

"Next time?" Damian asked, stopping in front of a blanket with a projector on it.

"Yeah," I smirked. "If I haven't scared you away."

"Not at all," Damian said, sitting on the blanket. He motioned for me to sit down and I obliged.

"Try the ice cream," I said excitedly. Damian glanced at the tan-colored ice cream before taking a scoop and eating it. I stared at him, waiting for some type of reaction. His eyes widened before he took another scoop. "I told you!" I smirked.

"Coincidence," Damian scoffed but took more bites.

"Mhm," I hummed, leaning back on my free hand. I looked around, noticing a screen across from the projector. "You set this up?"

"Pennyworth did," Damian corrected. "Although I choose the film."

"Oh really?" I asked. "What'd you choose?"

"y/f/a/m (your favirote animated movie)," Damian stated. My face lit up. "Abby told me it was your favorite. Although I don't understand how or why a film made for children would be your favorite."

"You've never seen it have you?" I asked. Damian shook his head. "Then you'll figure out that it's not really a children's film. And you'll discover the superior soundtrack."

[moonlight-frittata]

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500 

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil. 

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??” 

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days. 

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.” 

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said. 

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems. 

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign. 

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand. 

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed. 

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor. 

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand. 

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.  

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day. 

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.” 

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips. 

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement. 

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon. 

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor. 

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again. 

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior. 

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to  fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you. 

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to. 

Remember this! 

Oh how is so and so?  

Damn, that was 5 years ago already? 

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself. 

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding. 

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar. 

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm. 

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.” 

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove. 

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair. 

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners. 

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar. 

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone. 

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it. 

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment. 

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software. 

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?” 

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.” 

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence. 

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused. 

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known? 

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?” 

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips. 

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone. 

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am. 

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean. 

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

[kroerms]

Lifeline

Oneshot || pairing: kenma x reader (gender neutral, but I tried to stay clear of any pronouns)|| genre: angstisch, hurt/comfort ||

warnings: depiction of depression/ symptoms of a depression || if I forgot to mention something, please feel free to tell me...

a/n: sooo, this is my very first fanfic since like 2013, please be gentle with me haha

y/n: “I’m sorry, but I can’t make it to our date today…”

Kenma: “What do you mean you can’t make it? We planned this for over a week and are supposed to meet up in an hour...I’m already out of my house…”

y/n: “I’m really sorry, I just can’t.”

You sighed, tossed your phone next to you on the bed and pressed the pillow closer to your chest.

You couldn’t really pinpoint what triggered all these negative feelings. But your whole life there have always been these days where you felt completely drained of energy and the negativity of your own mind played tricks on you. You had always called it your “social battery” being empty. But in reality, it was more than just that. It was more than just not wanting to see your friends or family. It was a consuming tiredness paired with negative thoughts and sadness rooted deep within your very heart. Days like these would come and go, you learned that over the years, which is why you preferred to be alone on those days because you didn’t want to burden anyone with your pointless feelings. Sure, sometimes those feelings would almost consume you completely and would persist for weeks, but you always managed to handle them one way or another. You knew this all too well, you had had to deal with this part of yourself since your early teens after all and now that you were 28 it just didn’t seem like you were ever to grow out of it like your parents used to say you would. It wasn’t their fault though, since you never really talked about what it felt like to anyone after your so called friends seemed to dismiss it as just you being lazy and so your parents thought your tendency to hang in your room and lay in bed all day was just due to hormones. And you always felt like no one would believe you anyways and you weren’t prepared for all the follow up questions that would drain the last bit of energy you had, and so you stopped explaining yourself altogether.

You’ve known Kenma for a while now. The two of you started to form a friendship after you accidentally took his coffee order from the barista because he had ordered your usual. And with your head always being in the clouds you had just heard “vanilla latte” and without waiting for your name to follow the order you’d taken the beverage.

“Uhm, excuse me but I think this is supposed to be mine - well unless your name is Kenma as well, but I highly doubt that”, a monotone voice next to you spoke. Your gaze shifted from the to-go-cup in your hand to the man beside you. The faux blonde with the dark roots and the almost bored facial expression stood next to the take-out section of the coffeeshop, switch in one hand and the other in the pocket of his red tracksuit.

“Oh, I’m very sorry, I must have zoned out again. I sometimes get stressed in overly crowded places and tend to lose myself in my thoughts to calm down aaaand I just overshared, didn’t I?” You bowed slightly and handed the man in front of you his drink just as the barista called out your name with a “vanilla latte” attached to it. You quickly turned around to take the coffee so that Kenma wouldn’t notice the slight blush that spread over your cheeks from the embarrassment.

“y/n’s a pretty name, suits you.”, Kenma said, flashing a slight blush of his own as the words left his lips. “Well thank you...Kenma was it?”. The faux blonde nodded slightly. An awkward silence infolded the two of you. Just as you wanted to excuse yourself so that you could finally leave this utterly embarrassing situation, Kenma spoke up again: “well if you want to make it up to me for almost stealing my drink, I’d really appreciate a piece of apple pie from the bakery down the road. If that’s not too crowded for you.”

After that encounter, the two of you quickly grew closer and developed a bond to one another. Just like you, Kenma enjoyed lazy days at home gaming or watching movies together more than going out on adventures. So the two of you would often hang out at his house playing Mario Kart together or you’d watch movies on your projektor at yours. Sure, occasionally the two of you would go out to get something to eat or to watch his friends at a volleyball game, but these outings were rare. And it was because of those cozy little hangouts that you never once had to cancel plans with him, thus not once did you have to explain to him why you didn’t have the energy to go out and do stuff….well at least until today.

The familiar wave of guilt washed over you for not telling him why you had to cancel on such short notice. But you really didn’t have the energy to explain that your inner demons had taken control over your body and mind today. You were already feeling exhausted because work had been hell the last couple of weeks and it didn’t help that seemingly everyone in your family needed something from you which resulted in you spending your off-time after work either at your fathers house or your mothers. This left little to no you-time to relax and recharge yourself.

It was now near lunchtime on your well deserved day off and Kenma and you had plans to check out the new cat café that opened up just a few blocks from your home. But you hadn’t even made it out of bed, let alone under the shower yet. The comfort of the warm blankets was just too good. The mere thought of leaving this safe haven stressed you out and you had to hold yourself back from crying. You felt so overwhelmed with the world today that you couldn’t entertain the thought of participating in anything right now. All you wanted - no - needed to do was sleep until that heavy feeling on your chest would lift off and let you breathe again.

Just as you were dozing off, you heard your doorbell ring. You didn’t expect a package or anything today, so you didn’t exactly know who would want something from you right now.

Wrapped in your pink aristocats pijama and your very wild bedhead you padded to your door. What you didn’t expect while looking through your peephole was Kenma, standing in front of your apartment, arms full of paper bags.

“Open up, these are heavy you know! I know you’re standing behind the door.”

You took a deep breath before opening the door to let Kenma in. He immediately made his way to the kitchen, where he placed all the bags on the countertop before looking at you.

His gaze was intense. With what seemed like worry in his eyes, he scanned over your tired form.

“What’s wrong y/n?”, he asked.

“Nothing, I’m just tired, didn’t sleep enough last night I guess, but it’ll be better by tomorrow, so you really don’t have to worry about little old me”, you meekly said in an attempt to lighten the mood. You tried giving him the most reassuring smile you could manage, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You knew he noticed by the way his gaze softened. In one swift motion Kenma pulled you into his chest and cradled your head with one hand, while the other found its way around your waist, pulling you closer into him in the process. This took you by surprise, since Kenma and you didn’t really hug a lot.

“Tell me what’s really wrong y/n. I can clearly tell that you are not okay. You are a measly liar”, he whispered into your hair. Damn him and his observation skills, you thought. Well, this is it, you couldn’t hide that part of yourself from him any longer. You were scared to open up to him about that part of yourself, the fear of losing him because he didn’t want to deal with someone as broken as you are was immense.

“y/n?” Kenma spoke up again. You must’ve lost yourself in thought again, you didn’t even notice the tears that slipped past your eyelids and were making their way down your cheeks, before coming to a halt at your chin.

“I’m s-sorry, I - I don’t want to w-worry you… I just, I feel so tired and I f-feel like my battery is completely e-empty. I don’t feel like I c-can handle anyone, including m-myself right now. I j-just want everything to s-stop. I am exhausted, I feel like I a-am drowning within m-myself and t-there seems to b-be no lifeline”, you sniffled into Kenma’s chest. His hold on you tightened at that. He knew you got overwhelmed in crowds sometimes and that you preferred quiet, lazy meet-ups at home over going out. It was one of the reasons why he liked you so much, you didn’t expect him to be outgoing and you always accepted him for the person he was. He knew you were someone who liked their personal time and that the world, especially the people living in it would overwhelm you sometimes, but he had never seen you like this. Small, so fragile, almost as if you crumbled within yourself. As if the slightest blow of wind could knock you over and break you.

“Do you want me to leave? I brought food from that new café. I can just leave it here and go, if you need time to yourself…” Kenma said.

You were torn. On one hand, you really didn’t have the energy to entertain someone right now. But Kenma felt so warm and his embrace made you feel secure. As if the world couldn’t get to you as long as he held you like this. So you tightened your hold on him and shook your head lightly.

A small smile appeared on Kenma’s face.

“Alright, how about you go lay down on the couch then, while I unpack the food and we watch some cheesy movie together?”

The thought of leaving Kenma’s arms didn’t please you at all but you obliged and went to your couch in the open living room. You watched as Kenma started unpacking of cake slices, sandwiches and chocolates out of the bags. He even brought avocado-onigiri. Your favorite. After he displayed everything on plates he came over to put the food and two lemonades on the coffee table. He sat down next to you and turned on your TV. He started your favorite rom-com before he pulled you close to him again so that your head was resting on his chest. As the movie went on, he started to stroke your hair with his hand, while the other was on top of your arm that was draped over his torso. This was still very unfamiliar to you, but it felt nice.

“You know, you never have to hide your feelings from me. Not even the negative ones. I know I sometimes seem a little distant and I am not very open about my own feelings either but you mean a great deal to me and I’m always gonna be here for you. Even when you feel like drowning, I’ll always be a lifeline for you to hold on to. And I know I can’t fix everything, but I’ll try my best to help you with fixing what needs to be fixed.” he whispered softly. You closed your eyes, new tears forming in them making your eyelids heavy. Even if all those inner demons were loud within you, Kenma’s voice and reassuring words slowly drowned them out and you finally felt a bit of the weight on your chest getting lighter. You knew you had to work on these things and you would need more than just Kenma, you’d need professional help to cope with all of this, but with Kenma by your side like this, you felt like anything was possible. Before you dozed off in Kenma’s embrace you whispered back: “thank you so much for being here”.

[straighttohellbuddy]

📓 !!

Okay im so excited please know I think about How The Light Gets In's world every day still, and so anyways here is a side story I want to write but there's a lot of set up regarding the reader and eef becoming friends again. For context, they were incredibly close around 2014-2017, but people were getting creepy and invasive and demanding about their friendship (think 2012 toxic side of the Phandom, if that makes sense), and a lot of the reader's relationships were strained at that time because while they had been successful before, they were absolutely blowing up after their first album released and they became far more mainstream. They felt like they were bothering the people they had become closest to, both because they're worried that they're a bother, and because gossip rags and paps would harrass their friends looking for a scoop, and so they ended up just completely cutting off contact without warning one day right before they went on their first tour. the start of HTLGI is about 3 years since they'd been in proper contact with any of the creators they were close to at that time.

DON'T LOOK AT ME on their 2017 ep Hyperfocus was a more general song in response to everything that had been happening in their life around that time, with a focus on how they stop associating with anyone for a while, without outright addressing it, but on their latest album n o s t a l g i a, read at 5am ft. Troye was specifically written at the start of quarantine, when the reader was getting back into YouTube, about their feelings regarding how their friendship with ethan ended, as they spent a lot of this time looking back of their YouTube career, and he was the person they were closest to for a very long time, before they iced everyone out.

OKAY SO THERES MORE OF THE BACKGROUND OF THE WHOLE FIC AND THE READER BUT

Werewolf Ethan & Mark. I'm sorry I don't make the rules. They have golden retriever energy you cannot change my mind. But also because this is the HTLGI you know that supernatural characteristics are able to be activated rather than just triggered by the full moon. What I'm trying to say is since this is set in the year of Unus Annus, they film a video together that's like, you know that show where a person has to try and outwit a professional tracker? Except its the reader being tracked by two werewolves at night in a national park. Reader is wearing some sort of night vision camera on themselves so whenever it cuts to them the audience can't actually see how they're using their powers, if that makes sense.

Also the reader agreed to this knowing it would probably be when they ended up telling Mark and Ethan about them being a demon.

Video is titled Hunting Down An Old Friend

A few Moments that the boys edit out:

The reader using their stupidly sharp prehensile tail to swing from tree branches, though they leave in shots where the reader's tail can't be seen.

Knowing that with the werewolves having advanced hearing, the reader would give themselves away by talking to the camera, they take a few minutes having flown up to a high tree branch, to pull out a notebook and do a little sketch of how Mark and Ethan appear in their Demon True Sight, and holding it up to their camera.

Werewolves being one of the animals who can kind of sense demons without being able to identify them, essentially like dogs can sense natural disasters and are often good judges of character, this can be heightened on command for werewolves. There's about 15 minutes of footage cut out of the boys discussing or mentioning how this place has awful vibes and that they should have done this during the day. It gets worse as they get closer to the reader, who didn't realise that the boys hadn't thought to ever use that particular power around them before.

("I say this with so much love and appreciation for you, dude," Ethan yells, looking up at you from the base of the tree they'd finally found you in, "but I- this is making me anxious I feel like something terrible's gonna happen, and we should probably get out of here and film the rest of the video back at Mark's." And behind him, Mark's nodding, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes scanning the trees for whatever was most likely the cause of this terrible impending doom.

Oh. It's you. And they don't know its you.

Now or never, you suppose.

"Can you cut the cameras for a second? You're going to be fine I promise," you called back, and though they obligingly did, they both seemed antsy. You cleared your throat awkwardly, "that... that terrible feeling, that's not the park or anything in it- well I mean, it is, but it's just- it's me."

and later

"Dude your wings smell like rotten eggs."

"To YOU Ethan! And no they don't!"

"If it makes you feel better they smell like burning and rotten eggs."

"It does not."

(for reference, when enhancing their sense of smell werewolves can kind of distinguish various supernatural creatures, or parts of supernatural creatures. Some creatures have an inherent scent, but some, like angels and demons, only have distinct scents when they've activated certain attributesor abilities; demon wings smell like fire and brimstone, which unfortunately means burning and rotten eggs. I like to think angels wings are like the love potion in Harry Potter that smells like the things you love the most. Mark and Ethan usually don't enhance it around each other because they smell like wet dog to the other)

This gets about 2k notes on tumblr. The reader likes it:

Ethan finally finding Y/N at the end of Hunting Down An Old Friend (2020) Colourised.

Other things to note regarding all this:

It takes a while to rebuild their friendship to the point where they're comfortable enough to be on camera together (eef and reader specifically).

However, the Unus Annus video is the first thing they properly do together, and the reader, in an effort to connect more and make up for the past, will join in multiplayer gaming streams if asked.

Impromptu duet in proximity Among Us of Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy, which has their respective chats and fandoms losing their minds, except it stops abruptly after the first chorus as they both remember the opening lines of the second verse (make it easy, say I never mattered -- those lyrics hit a little too close to home)

But also the reader convinces him to join him for a proper cover in like, February of 2021, and it's something deeply sappy (I'm thinking Bon Iver by mxmtoon because I think its sweet and fits them well)

Also Ethan being reminded that the reader is kind of a much bigger deal than when they'd been friends before.

designed to hurt (touch me) from their ep Working On It is nominated for a Grammy for Track of the Year, and n o s t a l g i a wins Best Pop Album (because it's my fic and I said so)

FIRST OF ALL designed to hurt (touch me) is a beautifully produced song about Corpse (which people do not know) and the title itself is literally making fun of something he said IMAGINE his reaction to it being Grammy Nominated 😂😂😂 God he'd be proud but lowkey fuming, meanwhile the moment the nominations are announced the reader tweets:

me: here is an album where I processed my entire world view including heartfelt explorations of the trauma of existing and oversharing in the public eye from a young age without the traditional barrier between audience and entertainer

the grammys: that's cute BUT you know the song you wrote to bully your boyfriend and also be horny on main for him before you guys were even dating? THAT deserves its own recognition.

meanwhile Ethan's like..... this is the same person who I filmed a video with playing cards against humanity, and you laughed so hard you almost threw up. I am very proud but deeply confused.

The Hot Meme of Late April 2021 is "2 time Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N" with a gif, still, or quote from the reader where they're just being an absolute chaos gremlin.

Of course we have "If I bleached my asshole for charity I'd do it tastefully."

2 Time Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N speaking to their actual boyfriend in the year of our lord 2020: You are being executed for Clown Crimes.

ethan posts a short video to twitter simply of his screen where he's renaming a folder from "Never Before Seen Images of Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N" simply changing it to 2 time Artist. The reader responds specifically to his tweet with a video of themselves asking Google how to hard reset someone else's computer.

So many screenshots from old videos surface that week.

I miss this world. Sorry this is rambly!!

[sunbeams-and-honey]

Hello!! First off I just wanted to say that your blog is so amazing like I have learned many great things about astrology so for that thank you 🙏☺️ I want to know your opinion about my chart, in fact I am a Sagittarius sun/mercury/venus/pluto (2nd house) , capricorn moon (3rd house), virgo mars(11th house), pisces jupiter (5th house) and scorpio rising. Thanks already 🙏💕

Hi darling! Thanks for the question and sorry about the wait. Also I’m so glad my blog has helped you learn about astrology! It’s such a beautiful subject, I think we can all agree.

Anyways, I've already gone over the following placements! Click on each one to find each respective post:

Sagittarius Sun Capricorn Moon

Sagittarius Pluto

Virgo Mars

Scorpio Rising

Moving on, your Sagittarius Mercury makes you constantly on the lookout for opportunities to try new things, and oftentimes you are successful in doing this. You always want to push the boundaries of your own knowledge and abilities, which is good because you are never accepting limits, but can put you at risk of overworking yourself. You want to move around as much as possible, expanding however you can, but this makes you incredibly restless. You shouldn't settle for anything less than you deserve, but you do run the risk of just never stopping for a moment and taking time to relax. To you, life is an adventure that you want to make the absolute most of at all times.

Your Mercury in the 2nd means that you absolutely think before you speak. You aren't really the impulsive type when it comes to how you communicate. You know the impact your words can have, whether that's for better or worse, and so you choose them carefully. You have a natural affinity with anyone related to financial matters. You put all your efforts into your studies, always wanting to work hard and to achiever the best possible results. You have an innate thirst knowledge, constantly looking out for new information you can accumulate. Your curiosity is insatiable, and while this does have its benefits, it can get the better of you, leading you to learn things you'd much rather forget as soon as possible.

Your Sun is in the 2nd too, which makes you someone who always keeps their word, no matter what. Promises are very important to you, as well as trust in general. The only thing you hate more than making empty promises is other people making them to you. You are very practical and driven, always striving for success. This is another placement which promises a keen eye for financial matters. You can be quite materialistic and even greedy, always wanting to accumulate as many things as possible. You can be rather power-hungry because you crave the security and status that comes with that kind of power. You also have a talent for business.

You have your Venus in Sagittarius, which means you would absolutely take risks, no matter how big, just so you can have a little more fun and excitement in your life. This can be good because it means you're unlikely to ever be bored for too long, but it can mean that you unknowingly hurt others for the sake of your own entertainment. You want to explore the world around you and uncover all of its secrets. It may sound extreme, but you're more or less repulsed by the mere idea of settling down one day. In terms of romantic partners, you have to be with someone who you have things in common with. You desire relationships that allow you the chance to become a better person or to learn a new skill. You love people who can teach you something about pretty much anything.

Your 2nd House Venus makes you appear materialistic and greedy to others, when in reality you are actually very empathetic and kind. You are fond of your physical possessions, but it's not the most important thing to you in the world. You're an expert in matters of the heart, despite what other people may think. You have a great appreciation for all things beautiful, whether that's in a physical or metaphorical sense. You probably like to collect things that make you happy when you look at them. You are very elegant and want the best that life has to offer. Your love language is probably giving and receiving gifts. You're not shallow, you just like to be appreciated in that way. You don't want to settle for any less than what you believe you deserve.

Your Pluto in the 2nd means that you are rather business-like in more or less everything that you do. You are hard-headed, taking no shit from anyone. You hate wasting time, which does help you to be a very productive person overall, but does put you at serious risk of overworking yourself. Learning to allow yourself to take breaks is going to be a very valuable lesson for you. I know that resting can make you feel very guilty, but you need rest, and you don't have to work for it and 'earn' it. You might go through a lot of emotional distress throughout your life, but please don't let this scare you. It all depends on the rest of your chart, and even then, astrology is not, and never will be, a guarantee. You will always have the power to control your own life.

Your Moon is in the 3rd House, which makes you rather balanced, in that you are rational while also taking your emotions into account. You highly value your personal relationships with the people you love, and you want to forge real connections with anyone in your life. You hate being fake. You're quite open when it comes to your thoughts and feelings. You voice them when you feel the need to and you don't tend to feel uncomfortable doing it. This placement combined with your Mercury in the 2nd can mean that you sometimes overshare, though you shouldn't let this discourage you from being open with your loved ones.

You have your Mars in the 11th House, which means you are enthusiastic, energetic and capable. You love to take part in a wide variety of activities, often surprising people with how broad your interests are. You have many dreams that you would love to achieve in your lifetime, and have enough faith to at least try to make them come true. You have great leadership skills and you usually know exactly what you're doing. You tend to pick things up pretty quickly. You like to work on your relationships in order to strengthen them, but you can be quite ignorant of the actual people you are friends with. Both you and your friends are at risk of being taken advantage of by the other person(s), so it's vital that you make yourself aware of this so you can prevent it before it happens.

Your Pisces Jupiter makes you a very intuitive person who would definitely use that ability to get what you want in life. You play around with the subconscious of yourself and of others frequently, which is something that interests you deeply, but is something that can make you somewhat manipulative. You are very invested in the dreams of others, always interested in what they want to achieve in life and very dedicated in helping them get there. You can sometimes neglect your own though so be sure to pay attention to yours from time to time. You should also practise setting healthy boundaries, even with the people you love. You may feel guilty because of it but I promise that it will be for your own benefit and the people around you should understand. Don't be afraid to say 'no' if you feel you need or want to.

Your Jupiter in the 5th means that you love expressing your identity in any which way you choose, especially if it involves being creative. You don't like to dwell too much on decisions, but this can mean that you make choices carelessly, potentially causing extra problems down the line as a result of that. You are quite a fun person, always looking for the next adventure. You're eager to get everything you can out of life. You are quite confident when it comes to your relationships with others. You may be good with kids unless there are other placements that say otherwise. You have the courage needed to express your true identity to the world.

Words Of Advice:

Make sure you take the time to show your good intentions.

Don't give up too quickly.

Don't let your pride cloud your judgment.

Don't waste your energy on short and passionate affairs all the time.

Things become much easier when you calm down.

Don't let money be the only thing that drives you.

Think before you act and speak.

Try not to bite off more than you can chew.

Listen to what the people around you have to say for themselves.

Work on feeling more comfortable with who you are as a person.

Thanks for the question darling and I hope this helped! Sending good vibes your way and have a wonderful rest of your day! And just a reminder for everyone else, my inbox is currently closed (I received this ask long before I closed my inbox) so please don't send in anything else! Thank you and I'll let you all know when it's open again!

[keanan1501]

Notable swaps: Dream & Tubbo, Fundy & Ranboo, DreamXD & Micheal

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentioned child death, attempted child murder, intrusive thoughts

Short synopsis: Tubbo escapes prison and heads to Logsteadshire to deal with Dream once and for all, instead he finds something intresting in Logsteadshire... or should i say someone? Tubbo swings his sword in a lazy arch, a pleased grin on his face as the sword's enchantments hum under his hand "This is perfect" he breathes, turning to face his three companions with a bright smile "You three did wonderfully! Sam, consider your debt repayed" The creeper hybrid huffs, eyeing Tubbo as if the younger male was nothing but dirt beneath his shoes "Whatever, just don't expect me to come running when that cranky hog starts chasing" Tubbo giggles, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him down, allowing Tubbo to pet Sam like one would pet a dog, the ram hybrid is blissfully ignorant of the creeper hissing in protest "Awe, Sam~ It almost sounds like you care for me~" he coos, and his bright smile transforms into something more sinister "Let Techno come, i escaped his 'unescapeable' prison after all. There's nothing that stupid pig can do that i can't counter"

Sam nods, a short and tight one, before he turns around and takes a few steps away from the group "Also, Tubbo. Keep away from Fundy, or else" Tubbo blinks, tilting his head slightly as Sam walks off, he'd known Fundy had moved in with Sam and Ponk shortly after L'manburg exploded, but for someone like Sam, who had rumors surrounding him about his heartlessness, warming up to the cheeky fox hybrid? That was something he didn't expect, he could feel excitement bubbling inside of him, Fundy was his little spy, and Sam and Ponk were both very powerful people, if his motto wasn't "the higher the risk the better the reward" he would have felt fear, unfortunately for Sam and Ponk, he only sees this as a challenge.

"Tubbo, everything alright?" right, he isn't alone. "I'm fine, just scheming" Tubbo shrugs Purpled's concern off, and smiles at Tommy, who is looking at him like he hung the moon and stars just for the blond, maybe he had, the white streak in Tommy's hair certainly proved he had. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he thought back to his now dead ally, Quackity, the duck hybrid had given him the revive book, allowing him to bring his two favorite toys back to life after their deaths, both now sporting a white streak amongst their usual brown and blond hair, proudly showing off the fact that they belong to him, that they're his toys, and noone else could ever hope to claim them.

Sure, Wilbur would have protested with every inch of his being if he could hear Tubbo now, but Tommy had accepted it, embraced it even, all he has to do is give Wilbur a nudge in the right direction, and his favorite toy will fall back into place, just like he'd done during exile. And Tubbo knows exactly how to give said first nudge, who better to target than Wilbur's best friend, his emotional support, his other half, his Dream?

Tubbo digs inside of his pocket, taking out a slightly dented but otherwise beautiful and functioning compass, the words "your Wilbur" carved into it with so much care, Tubbo could insult Phantommy in a lot of different ways, but he can't help but compliment the late ghost's designing skills and steady hands. Phantommy had given the compass to Dream, giving a similar one to Wilbur, except Wilbur's was labled with "your Dream" during exile, Tubbo wanted to tear Phantommy a new one right then and there, but he knew better. Phantommy wasn't Tommy, of course the silly ghost would think Wilbur belonged to Dream, he simply made a mistake, Wilbur belonged to Tubbo, not to Dream! So when Dream, Schlatt and Ranboo were attacked by a horde of creepers Tubbo swooped in and stole the compass, giving it to its rightful owner.

"I'm going to give a short visit to everyone's least favorite president" Tubbo announces, clicking the compass shut and stuffing it back into his pocket "Tommy, i trust you can distract Wilbur and Fundy long enough for me to have a pleasant chat with Dream?" the blond nods quickly, and Tubbo affectionately rolls his eyes, Tommy knows his place as Tubbo's toy, but even Tubbo is sometimes suprised by how much Tommy wants to please his "hero". The poor boy hadn't learned a thing in Pogtopia, had he? As soon as someone more powerful comes along Tubbo would drop Tommy like a stone, but until then Tubbo could enjoy soaking in the pure wonder and awe Tommy has for him.

The blond scurries off, and Tubbo turns to Purpled, smirks and winks, which causes the purple-hoodied male to grumble in either disgust or adoration, Tubbo liked to believe it is the latter "Don't forget i left Ranboo at the alter for you!" Tubbo shouts teasingly as he runs off, laughing as he could hear Purpled make fake gagging noises, definitely disgust.

The trek from the prison to Dream's new village... what was it called again? Logsteadshire or something? wasn't long, and Tubbo cringed as the buildings came into view. Sure, the odd mish-mash of dirt, stone, wood and diamond were passable as houses, but Dream never did have the best eye for design. Tubbo was glad Dream let Schlatt, Ranboo, Fundy, Ponk and Techno do most of the rebuilding for L'manburg, Blood God knows what Tubbo would have done if that stupid country was filled with Dream's odd shacks.

He wasn't here to bash on Dream, he was here to get his armor and weapons back, most notablely his sword "Wasp's Stinger" otherwise known as one of, if not the, most powerful weapon in his land. The dry sand crunches under his feet as he walks confidently across the sand, he could see Eret's kid, Junior, peeking out of one of the holes in the second biggest dirt shack, which must mean that Dream lives in the biggest shack.

Tubbo throws the door open with reckless abandon, walking in to the space like one would walk into their own house, he knows Dream isn't home yet, a good predator waits for their prey after all. He plops down on the couch, his ram ears perking up as the couch lets out a creaking noise, he can't help but wonder if the couch is older than him.

Then he freezes as hurried footsteps thunder down the stairs. Had he been wrong? Is Dream home? Is someone else here to housesit?

"Daddy! Daddy! Look!" Tubbo relaxes as a young ocelot hybrid comes around the corner, the kid couldn't be older then three, which means there is no threat. The kid is beaming, eyes screwed shut and a large droopy smile on their face as the kid proudly holds up a drawing containing four stick figures.

"I'm not your dad, kid" Tubbo chuckles "Sorry to disappoint you" the kid gasps and their round big cat ears pin back, their green eyes wide with both curiosity and fear. Tubbo blinks, and suddenly the ocelot hybrid is gone, and in their place is a ziglin, looking at him like Tubbo was the savior of the world, back then it had felt nice to have someone depend on him, now? It fills his chest with a burning emotion he can't quite place, a mix between grief, anger, confusion and betrayal. Michael can't look at him anymore, so why is he still looking at Micheal?

"Come sit kid, i won't hurt you" Tubbo pats the seat next to him, kids tended to overshare, he was going to use the kid to get some info on Dream, that was all, he wasn't being nice because the kid reminds him of Micheal, he's just being tactical. The kid slowly shuffles over, clutching the drawing like a lifeline, once the kid decides they're close enough he stops, and Tubbo leans forewards to inspect the drawing.

For a three year old he had to give the kid props, the lines looked good and he could make out who was who. Dream and Fundy are standing close together, the kid inbetween them, Wilbur is off to the side, but just like the three in the foreground the kid had drawn him with the biggest smile.

"Who did you draw?" Tubbo asks, looking at the kid with a genuinely curious expression, the kid glows at the question, and points to each stick figure in turn "That's my papa Dre! That's my daddy Funwy! And un'le Wilby! And me!" Tubbo nods, a small smile on his face, so what if the kid reminds him of Michael, noone would get hurt if he entertains the kid for a bit, right?

"Owl?" the kid asks, poking Tubbo in the leg and Tubbo chuckles "I'm not a owl, i'm a ram" he helpfully informs the kid, who pouts in response "Owl?" the kid asks again "You want to go see Wilbur?" Tubbo asks back, knowing Wilbur's wings were often compared to those of a owl, but the kid shakes their head, grabs a book, and flips through the pages. The kid holds up the book and presses it against Tubbo's face "Owl?" Tubbo backs away a bit so he can read the words on the page, it's a classic toddlers book, going over different animal sounds, and a lightbulb turns on in Tubbo's head "Are you asking me who i am?"

The kid nods, gleeful that Tubbo finally understands "I'm Tubbo, can you try saying my name?" Tubbo crouches next to the kid, gently grabbing the kid's hand and writes each letter of his name on the kid's palm, as the kid reads them out loud "T-u-b-b-o" a second of silence "T'bbi!" the kid cries victoriously, and Tubbo just puts his arms up in celebration with the kid, not having the heart to correct them.

"T'bbi, out?" the kid asks, looking at him with the biggest puppy eyes Tubbo's ever seen, how does this kid know his one weakness? Tubbo signs but smiles, opening the door, the kid rushes out and throws themself into the sand, letting out a screech of excitement "Daddy and papa do not let me out!" the kid babbles, making sand hills with such vigor that Tubbo can't help but admire the kid.

Would Micheal be like that if he'd hadn't...? His hand twitches. It was Dream's fault. The handle of his sword felt cold against his hand. He could get revenge. He takes a step forewards, his sword hanging limply by his side, when did he take it out of the scabbard? He could make Dream feel the same pain, the same dark spiral that he went through. His eyes flicker across the kid's body, quickly finding every weak point that would ensure a quick and painless death. He wasn't heartless, he wouldn't let the kid suffer. He puts his hand on the kid's cheek, the kid leans in to the touch, leaving their neck vulnerable. He wasn't a monster like Dream, he wouldn't leave the kid to bleed out, scared and alone.

He snaps from his thoughts as he feels  something rumble beneath his hand, his ears face towards the kid, flicking whenever he could pick up on the faint sound of purring. Tubbo quickly sheaths his sword, noone deserves to go through the loss of a child, not even his greatest enemy. He lets out a sigh and pats the kid on the head, the kid purring even louder.

His ears flick backwards, and he realizes someone is approaching, probably either Fundy or Dream, and as much as he wanted to stick around and taunt the two, the ocelot kid was too young to get wrapped up in their silly game of chess. "Hey kid? I have to go" the kid whines as Tubbo pulls his hand back, short stubby arms reach out to his hand, trying to grab hold of it, but Tubbo is faster, he jumps up and silently runs to the other side of house that the approaching person is coming from. He could hear the kid yell "Daddy!" loudly, the kid's feet kick up sand as they run towards Fundy, the fox hybrid's orange hair standing out against the pale sand "XD?!" Fundy asks, worry coating his tone like Tubbo coats things he likes with honey "How did you get outside?! Is Dream here?!"

"T'bbi!" the kid answers simply, and Tubbo could almost see the fear rolling off of Fundy in waves "Y-you aren't try-ing to say Tubbo, are you?" the kid doesn't answer verbally, but from Fundy's sharp intake of breath he could tell the kid confirmed Fundy's words.

"Tubbo?! I know you're here! I'm calling Techno!" Fundy barks, and Tubbo peeks around the corner to see Fundy typing something on his communicator. With a ease that clearly shows he's done this many times before Tubbo pulls out a bow & arrow and shoots, the arrow goes straight through Fundy's communicator, breaking it, leaving Fundy with no way to call for help, and judging by Fundy's startled yip, the fox knows it. Tubbo steps out in the open, and the kid reaches towards him with a delighted cry "T'bbi!" Fundy grabs the kid's arm and pulls them close, baring his teeth at Tubbo. The ram hybrid just smiles and walks towards them, hand already on his most dangerous weapon of all, eyes unmoving from Fundy's stone-still form. Tubbo whips out his most dangerous weapon and fires, Fundy letting out a screech as he's assaulted by twin streams of thick honey. Tubbo knew repurposing those water guns into honey guns was  a genius idea, he can't believe Sam doubted him.

"What?! Why?!" Fundy groans, trying to brush the sticky liquid out of his coat, but only succeeding in smearing it out more "Because, you and me, we're friends Fundy, best friends even!" Tubbo replies, walking past Fundy like he didn't just doom the poor fox to being a bee attraction for the next week "We're not friends!" Fundy snaps back, and Tubbo turns to face him, blue-green eyes almost seeming to glow in the light of dusk

"If we weren't friends, why would you help me so much? Blowing up the community house, spying on important events, guarding Wilbur's music disc, setting off the TNT trapping Wilbur in prison. All of those things are things that you did, things i asked you to do"

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

Hi there! I’d really love to get a BoB ship if they’re still open? They look super fun! 🥰 I’m British, INFP, enneagram type 4, Hufflepuff, and my zodiac chart is Cancer sun, Libra rising and Scorpio moon. I study history, and hope to make a career out of it! I love travelling and I’m going to travel America next summer. Hobbies include reading, swimming and sewing. I also have a massive stuffed animal collection lol, sometimes I sleep with one. I put a lot of love into any kind of relationship, be it familial or friendships. I’ve been told I’m a good listener and give really good advice. I’m kinda a mum friend and a baby friend rolled into one 😅 most of my friends are older than me, so I look to them for guidance a lot. I’m very shy around new people, and even once I open up I’m often quiet. People think I’m very open because I do have a tendency to oversharing, but I do keep a lot inside, and there’s a few things I’ve never told to anyone. I am quite sensitive, very easily annoyed, and I have quite severe anxiety, among other things. I’m really insecure about my appearance. I adore animals and a big dream of mine is to be a pet owner. I don’t think I want children, but if I do then I’m going to adopt them. I can’t stand people who are full of themselves or are selfish.

Hi!! Of course!! 🤗Sorry I’ve been slower to respond the last couple of days 😅 but anywho, I ship you with... Joe Toye!

- You and Joe are each other’s ride or dies.

- It was an instant attraction. Joe found you incredibly attractive when he met you and only fell for you harder as he got to know you.

- Something about being with you just feels right to Joe. You guys have the best conversations that feel so intimate no matter the topic, from discussing some history journal you read to talking about what you had for lunch.

- Joe can be insecure about his education, so he loves to learn from you. He’s eager to broaden his horizons and you help him do that.

- You provide Joe with the security and permission he needs to be vulnerable about his own emotions.

- Just like you’re there to give advice to others, Joe gives great advice to you. He has this quiet understanding, always without judgement. He’s a good one to give direct but gentle support in the tougher moments.

- Joe totally understands getting easily irritated. In fact, you two tend to get annoyed by similar things.

- This works out in your favour because you two will always have each other to bitch to! (We love a good vent sesh)

- And, it particularly works in Joe’s favour that you can’t stand self-centred people because Joe happens to be one of the most humble, self sacrificing guys.

- Joe is open to going wherever life takes you two. If the future means adopting kids, great. If it means travelling the world unencumbered, even better. As long as you’re by his side he’s happy.

[heoneyology]

simply human | l.jy

A/N: this was supposed to be posted yesterday for halloween so uhh happy late halloween look at me I’m trying to write again! it’s not spooky so I guess posting it today isn’t a huge deal, still fits the season... based loosely on this story idea.

Word Count: 6866

Genre: catboy!juyeon, warlock!juyeon, fluff, lightly implied romance

Pairing: reader (gender neutral) x lee juyeon (the boyz)

Warnings: mentions of magic though nothing used... uhh... very slowly paced is a warning as well (like there’s barely any juyeon wtf was I doing???), also I have a habit of trailing things off at the end of my writings and leaving things to the reader’s imagination after sorry :’))

Summary: Lee Juyeon is possibly one of the most eligible bachelors in town—his looks being favored by everyone who lays their eyes on him—but he has one thing working against him: He’s a warlock. In the city, those who practice magic are just thought of as normal, everyday people. But in smaller towns, they’re thought of as bad luck and archaic. It’s a bias that you’ll never quite understand, and thus you watch the handsome boy who visits the coffee shop you work at daily, admiring him from afar. You’d never have guessed he was leading a quiet double life...

A deep sigh falls past your lips, one that seems to come straight from the depths of your chest—maybe even deeper. It holds something that words can’t quite express; stresses, longing, and a confusion you aren’t sure how to work past. Next to you, the black cat who is just an arm’s length away stirs. It peeps one eye open as your breath travels through the blades of grass, passing through before ghosting over the cat’s fur. It tickles, and felines don’t much like things that tickle.

You’d been watching the cat this entire time, so when it cracks a single amber eye open to fixate on you, you suck in the breath you’d just let out, freezing in place. Waiting, wondering. Had you somehow deterred away your latest friend and most recent confidant?

“Sorry,” you whisper to the cat, wondering if that will somehow remedy the situation.

The cat’s ears flicker in response, and that single amber eye closes.

You’d dealt with many cats before that. For many, as soon as you even so much as had your fingertips graze their fur the wrong way, they’d go scurrying off. Some even liked to lash out. This cat, however, was a curious little fellow—you were fairly certain it was a fellow—it liked to lay just out of your reach, near you, whenever you came to sit underneath the maple tree in the warm afternoons; on days when the sun was just peaking at its highest before dipping down below the horizon. Now that autumn was in full force, days were growing shorter and the warmth which you sought by the sun and the maple—a space to think freely and escape your worries—was also growing shorter as the chill of the oncoming winter began to set in earlier and earlier each day.

The cat seemed to have the same idea as you, seeking out the tree for afternoon naps and letting you rant your heart away. Somehow, it almost seemed as if the feline was listening to you—but not just listening, understanding, as well. The little black feline would fix you with a gaze that was so deep and knowing, you sometimes felt as if you were oversharing. Whenever the cat met your eyes, you could feel your heart seize up in your chest; the idea of the creature somehow understanding what you were saying causing you to panic and double back, wondering if your thoughts were safe with the little cat.

But the comfort the cat brought was something that couldn’t be matched by the company of your friends and family. It was nice to have someone to just talk to and listen, someone that didn’t reply all the time. Even if that someone wasn’t exactly a human. Even if that someone happened to have some human-like personality traits that left you wondering. Cats were intelligent, though, so you never found yourself questioning it too much.

After some time, you push yourself up into a sitting position from where you lay on your side in the grass, letting out another long sigh. This time, your breath doesn’t even so much as reach the cat. However, your presence shifting causes the small animal to stir, letting out a ‘mrrmph’ and stretching out of the ball it had been curled into, rolling over onto its side. The cat lazily blinks up at you, before licking a paw and swiping it over its face, repeating the action and grooming itself.

“This is why my mom told me not to move away to a small town like this. She called me a romantic for trying to follow my dreams—be a writer, live in a cozy space unknown to the world and basically off the grid.” Instead of sighing, you scoff this time. “Little did she know I’d actually become a romantic and fall in love with someone who doesn’t even know I exist… or maybe she did know. Moms seem to somehow know everything…”

You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. “I can’t believe I spilled that all over him this morning—I don’t even want to go to work tomorrow.”

Before one emotion can even settle, you’re letting out another groan and falling back into the grass again. You hit the ground with a slight thud. Next to you, the cat startles in surprise, but doesn’t move.

“I have to be up for seven… I have to open the shop… ugh I hate opening shifts, that’s too early. We saw what happened today! I didn’t even get enough sleep and then that disaster unfolded!”

From next to you, the cat watches as you work through your turmoil of thoughts and emotions for the third time since coming to the maple tree. Before one can settle, another begins, and so your distraught cycle repeats itself yet again. The cat had already heard the story, about how you’d gotten next to no sleep last night—finally finding a strike of muse and mistakenly staying up until almost four in the morning to write the wave out—and had to open the coffee shop at which you work at seven on the dot that same morning. Your crush, the one and only Lee Juyeon—a noteworthy bachelor in town whose presence wasn’t very welcomed, though his looks were practically revered—had entered the shop. Amidst your foggy, sleep-deprived state, you’d clumsily perfected his order, then proceeded to spill it down the front of his clothes.

It was a minor mishap. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it wasn’t something that one should trouble themselves over this much. Although, of course, one had to consider the fact that Juyeon being dashingly handsome, with strong features and a soft smile; as well as being your crush, were added factors that had to be considered in the equation.

The cat still found it ridiculous, as cats often do of human matters.

You push yourself into a sitting position again, with a bit more determination in your shoulders this time. The cat barely pauses its grooming session as you turn to address it, despite not needing to. “I need to go. I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

Despite knowing that the outcome will be futile, you reach out slowly and attempt to stroke the cat with the back of your hand, as a final goodbye before the two of you meet again. But this time, the cat reacts to your proximity—instantaneously cutting its grooming session short by jumping to its feet and away from you. The feline cuts you a look, giving itself a shake, before it trots off.

It had been two weeks now, so you had been hopeful something had changed between you and the cat. But, cats were fickle creatures, and although your feline friend proved to be a good confidant and equally welcomed your silent company—that’s all it wanted at the moment, was some company. A part of you wondered if something kept the cat from being friendlier, even after you’d proven you weren’t going to push or rush any affection received, such as a trauma or unpleasant experience. You weren’t too certain that was the case, though, considering the cat wasn’t wary or scared—just indifferent.

“Get home safe,” is your last goodbye to the cat, spoken into the emptiness around you which is only broken up by the evening breeze whistling through the autumn leaves.

—

Thankfully, you get enough sleep that night. When you get home, the tiredness hits you like a giant wave, and there’s not even an ounce of temptation to continue your writing as there had been the night before. When the next day arrives, you’re much more bright-eyed and alert. Opening the coffee shop goes smooth, as does the passing of the first few customers you have.

After the first hour of being open, like clockwork, Juyeon walks through the door of the little cafe at eight. And, like clockwork, your coworker lets out a grunt under their breath and nudges you with their elbow.

“Can you take over the cash register?”

You frown, studying them, then glancing back at Juyeon as he slowly nears the counter. A few guests cut him unfriendly looks, others stare in awe. You should be used to this, by now, but you aren’t. Growing up in the city, you hadn’t realized what kind of bias there would be in smaller, more rural areas for Juyeon’s kind—as those around here called it. He practiced magic, which in the city was a common occurrence. Being so populated, it was easy to pass someone by and not really know whether they were a witch or a warlock. They were just simply human.

But here, it was like some sort of blight. Where witches and warlocks were far and few between, it was misunderstood, and thus not welcomed. People didn’t like change, or that which they didn’t understand.

If only people could be more like cats—indifferent to those things that surrounded them which caused no harm, despite how different it might be.

Your coworker hadn’t waited for your answer, disappearing, and you have no choice but to take over the cash register. Despite the repeated normalcy of this specific situation, it’s still something you really don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

Juyeon stops in front of the counter and studies the menu above, just as you step forward and wish him a good morning. He glances down at you, gives a small smile, and then glances back up at the menu. He’s been here enough times since you’d moved to town that you know he’ll order the same thing he gets every day. For some reason, though, he still likes to idle a bit and study the menu. Maybe because there’s seasonal flavors to consider trying, despite always defaulting to the comfort pick. Or maybe he’s buffering his mind for the day—a sentiment you felt you could relate to.

“Can I get my usual?” Juyeon asks, pulling his eyes away from the menu with another smile.

You return his smile, nodding. “Of course.”

Although you try to stay calm, you can hear your heart beating much too loudly in your chest, replaying the events from the day before in your head. You try not to outwardly cringe as the scene from yesterday replays itself in your mind; then try further to shut the memories out, though not visibly show your internal struggle—choosing to focus instead on the fact that despite not being weary-eyed that morning, your hand is shaking as you lift it to the register to punch in Juyeon’s order, and you need to make it stop.

It’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the regular customer, though you aren’t aware that he even does notice until you’re serving him his coffee. Your coworker has conveniently cooped themselves up in the back to clean and stock. That leaves you left alone to prepare Juyeon’s drink, and you’re grateful there isn’t a rush at that moment.

When you step up to the counter to call out his name and hand over the drink, you’re straining your arm to keep your hand from shaking too badly—paranoid over a repeat from yesterday. As he takes his drink with a smile and a thank you, his fingers brush over yours. You glance up in surprise at him, wondering if he even noticed the skin contact.

Meeting his gaze, you’re aware that he is, in fact, aware of what has happened. He softens his smile—if that’s even possible. His sharp features are always the softest when he comes in during the mornings and hands out smiles to the people around him. Despite the stark contrast of how the townsfolk treat Juyeon in comparison to how he treats them, you’ve never once seen the smile on his face falter.

“You don’t have to be nervous about yesterday,” he states kindly. “Accidents happen. Stop shaking so badly out of nerves, or you’ll really end up spilling my coffee again.”

A flush immediately over takes your face, and you pull your hand back like the snap of a rubber band—luckily Juyeon already has hold of his drink, or it would have come crashing down to the counter below.

“S-s-s-sorry— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, I’m only joking. Like I said, accidents happen, and clothes can be washed,” Juyeon chuckles. You swear the sound makes your heart seize up in your chest—but it’s a different kind of seize than the feeling your secret cat makes you feel. This feeling is one that makes time seem to stop moving itself; his soft laugh something akin to a toll bell—not quite high pitched enough to be a bell, but not deep enough to be something else.

“Although if you spilled drink on me two days in a row, I’d probably need you to join me for coffee at some point in order to make up for all the dry cleaning,” the joke falls from Juyeon’s lips with ease—and you can only stare at him in surprise as he offers you one last smile and makes his way to a corner of the coffee shop near the window, as he does every day.

Did… he just flirt?

You shake your head at the absurdity of the thought, though the rest of your work day is spent in a trance. Even when there is a callout halfway through your shift, just a few hours away before your freedom from work—you barely react. It’s just a hiccup, even if it means you’ll be working five hours extra. Juyeon’s words idly trail through your mind, enough to keep you in a daze. Luckily, despite your mind being focused elsewhere, nothing is spilled or broken that day and you make it through the shift safely; save for a few moments of tripping over your own two feet.

When closing time rolls around, you finally start to feel all the work of the day and your clumsiness in those same two feet. You’re practically dragging yourself over the threshold when you close up the coffee shop, locking the door behind you. When you turn to begin down the street for home and the comfort of your warm bed—you almost trip over your own two feet yet again.

Except, this time, it’s not by your own fault that you almost trip. Underfoot, the darkness of the night moves just as you stumble to catch yourself, and you startle in surprise. But then, a familiar pair of amber eyes turn and meet yours—and as your eyes adjust to the blackness, you recognize the outline of a little black cat.

“Kitty?” You wonder, surprise lacing your voice. The cat, as if replying, lets out something akin to a meow and an indignant sigh, as if to ask, How dare you trip over me?

The indignant meow-sigh-huff combo makes you smile, letting out a small laugh under your breath. Yes, it’s definitely your cat friend. But why is the cat so far from the fields at the outskirts of town, away from the maple tree? How did it wander so far? You’d always assumed the cat to be a farm cat, since you’d never seen it among the streets like this—which had you worry the feline may have wandered too far from home to find its way back. At night, nonetheless.

Crouching down, you reach out a hand to the cat, back of your hand facing the feline. “What are you doing all the way in town like this, kitty?”

As per usual, the cat backs away from your hand with a little jump, before scurrying off into the night. You let out a sigh, watching it meld with the shadows, before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Okay, fine. I thought we were friends, but whatever. Just try and assist me in breaking my neck and then leave the scene of the almost-crime.” You give your head a shake, before turning away from the coffee shop and making your way home.

The evening is colder than it has been in the past few nights. As you walk, you snuggle down a little deeper into your coat, surprised by the chill. It’s sharp enough to cut against more sensitive places of your body—like your nose, ears, and cheeks—but not quite deeply cutting in the way that the cold of winter is. This chill doesn’t seep into the depths of your bones and create an ache. It’s just cold enough to make you want to curl up on your couch with a cup of warm tea before bed, but still admire how there’s a warmth to the season overall despite the weather.

It doesn’t take long before a black flash cuts across in front of you. You slow your steps slightly, having set a brisk pace to simply get yourself home quicker, so you weren’t out at night for too long. Your shadowy friend darting back and forth is enough to keep you from walking too fast, though, worried you might trip and fall, and ultimately hurt yourself or the cat. But as you pick your pace up again, the black feline settles into a trot alongside you, weaving close to the walls of the buildings which you walk next to.

“Are you walking me home?” You muse to the cat. “Feel guilty for almost tripping me in the dark?”

You know the cat can’t understand your humor, and likely doesn’t have a conscience enough to feel guilty about such a thing, but it feels nice to talk to someone as you walk. Again—you seek comfort in the feline companion for the fact that you can voice your thoughts aloud, without expecting a reply. It’s also nice to have company on your walk home. Despite the small town being safe, and the streetlamps lighting the way, walking alone at night was an uncomfortable event. Having grown up in the city, you’d been taught to never wander the streets alone at night. It was strange to do so here.

“Lee Juyeon, the warlock that I’ve told you about, came in to work again today. I didn’t spill his order all over him today,”  you smile, glancing at the little black shadow that meanders next to you. “You should be proud of me.”

Slowing your pace, you come to a halt. “Do you ever wonder why people treat him differently?” You ask the cat. For a moment, you think, before sighing, “Wait, you probably don’t even know. You’re a cat, after all. How would you realize that he’s being treated differently just because he can practice magic. Heck, you probably don’t even know who Juyeon is.”

Or, maybe the cat did, considering you’d seen Juyeon feed the neighborhood strays outside the coffee shop before.

The thought has you pulling your eyes back to your cat companion. Ahead of you, the animal pulls itself away from the wall and sidles its way into the center of the street. It keeps walking, which prompts you to resume your pace in order to catch up to the cat.

“Anyway, he does magic. A warlock. In the city, witches and warlocks are common. Magic is a lot more accepted where I come from, even though there are rules and restrictions to practicing in order to keep non-magic users safe. Maybe that’s why rural areas and small towns don’t like it, there’s no one to really keep watch and create rules,” you sigh, then wonder why the heck you’re explaining this to a cat. “But still, he’s just simply a human. My coworker doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as him. Isn’t that ridiculous…?”

Much like you do under the maple tree, you ramble to the cat as though it were any other day. It feels kind of nice to have the cat’s company and be able to walk home with someone, even if that someone weren’t quite human. Though you might appear strange to anyone else who might see you chatting into the darkness, you aren’t alone that night—a comfort which you appreciate not only because it’s dark, but also after such a long and grueling day. It allows you to keep your mind away from the dreadful thoughts you might have. Talking to the cat had also become a routine, and though you hadn’t been able to dwell much on the idea of missing out on the almost-daily routine thanks to how busy the coffee shop had gotten in the afternoon, you realize now what it means.

As you near the corner of your street, the cat slows down just ahead of you, sensing a change in your demeanor. Your stomach growls just as you’re about to round the corner the cat is stopped at, causing you to glance down in surprise. Then, you glance at the feline, before lifting your gaze up to glance over your shoulder. Just across the street, lighting up the entire corner—something you’d always been grateful for, living alone—sits a little 24-Hour corner shop. You have food at home that you can heat up quickly, but you remember that your cat friend has wandered into town from the farms, and possibly hasn’t eaten. There’s probably an abundance of mice to catch, if the cat were to look well enough, but you feel guilty after realizing how far the animal had followed you.

And, unfortunately, it wasn’t likely with your current track record that the cat would want to join you inside for the night.

“Wait here,” you instruct the cat, not even sure if it’ll listen. You dart across the street and push your way into the warmth of the little corner shop. The attendant startles in surprise at your entrance, having not expected a customer so late on a fairly chilly night, most likely.

“Do you have cat food?” You ask, and the bleary-eyed boy behind the counter points off in a corner of the shop. You follow his direction to the aisle he points out, wandering down and eyeing the shelves lined with canned and bagged food and treats for all different kinds of pets. You pick out a can of shrimp flavored canned food, remembering that the cat you’d grown up with at home had enjoyed shrimp-flavored things, before heading back to the front of the store to pay for it.

Surprisingly enough, the black cat is there waiting for you as you exit the store—still across the street. You smile, as you near, watching as the cat’s tail tip flicks where it's curled on the ground, rustling a leaf just within reach. Each time its tail does so, causing the leaf to move, the silly little cat swipes at the leaf—and its own tail. And each time, the cat looks offended as it pulls its paw back.

“I have food,” you announce your presence to the cat, so as not to startle it too much out of its little game. As you near, you pull open the can lid, bending down and setting the can on the ground. Knowing the cat will run if you extend your hand, you slowly inch the can forward with your finger tips, watching as the cat slowly inches itself back on its butt in surprise. When your hand returns to yourself, the cat stares at the opened can of food, before bending over just enough to strain its neck to reach out and sniff.

With a sharp flick of its tail, it huffs and turns, trotting off into the darkness.

Your jaw falls open in surprise. “Wow! Rude! That was two dollars!”

Frowning, you glance back at the can of food, then up again where the cat disappeared into the night. Either the cat was extremely spoiled and wasn’t actually a farm cat as you’d thought, feasting on mice—or the animal just wasn’t hungry. Somehow you doubted the latter, as it seemed like quite a journey from the edge of town to your place for a little four-legged creature. Surely any animal would be just a bit hungry after wandering around for hours, right?

Straightening yourself up, you call out into the darkness, “I’m leaving this here, then—in case you change your mind!” But your words are met with silence, and there isn’t even the breeze of the autumn wind whistling through the trees to fill the void of the night.

Parting ways with the darkness and its feline voidling, you finally round the corner and head the last few feet up the street to the warmth of your home.

—

When you wake the next morning, there’s not an immediate rush through your morning. You don’t work until a bit later in the afternoon. This means you’re able to sleep in, enjoy the warmth and comfort of your bed and burrow yourself further down under the duvet as the morning light streams through the curtains, casting even more warmth over you as it filters through the glass window. When it comes time to finally pull yourself out of bed, you shower and brush your teeth, brew a pot of coffee for yourself, and set to work at your laptop for a couple hours to get some writing out.

It’s at this time that a repeated rapping catches your attention, and when you glance up from your laptop—pulling your eyes away from the white light of the screen and squinting—you’re surprised to see a black shadow at your window, two amber eyes peering through a frame of the glass intently.

“What the—? Kitty?”

Hearing your voice, the cat stands up from crouching on the sill, butting its body against the window and letting out a loud meow. You’re fairly certain this is the first time the cat has answered you in such a blatantly obvious tone, which has you excitedly pushing yourself to your feet and rushing over to the window. In the entire time it takes you to cross your bedroom to the window, the cat continues to meow, pacing back and forth along the sill and butting itself against the glass. The cat’s tail curls, waving about languidly.

“Good morning,” you greet, pulling the window up and open for your friend. “What are you doing here? Did you sleep outside on the street last night?”

With more room on the window sill, the cat sits, pointedly fixating its gaze on you. Curiously, you present the back of your hand to the cat, holding it up between the two of you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to the creature, but that doesn’t mean you’re quite out of the woods just yet.

It takes everything within you, though, to hold back the gasp of surprise when the cat leans forward just a bit to sniff you, cold nose pressing against the back of your hand and whiskers grazing across your skin.

“Can I pet you?” You wonder, turning your hand over slowly and reaching behind the cat—but, as fickle as ever, the cat lets out another meow and turns before you can even so much as put your hand onto its fur, dropping down from the window sill. The most touch you get from the interaction is its tail swiping your arm as it turns and jumps down—which, honestly, still leaves you grinning after the cat.

“Wait there again,” you instruct the cat, closing the window. Not waiting for an answer from the feline, who seems a bit chatty that morning, you make your way out of your bedroom—pausing momentarily to grab your coffee mug—before heading to the kitchen. You wonder if the cat is hungry, mentally noting you don’t have cat food, which is why you had bought it last night, before reminding yourself that it didn’t seem to like the canned food anyway.

Fish? No, you’d have to go to the market for that. If you ate fish, you typically cooked it immediately rather than let it sit in your freezer. What else could cats eat? “Chicken…?” You wonder aloud, opening your fridge and eyeing the leftover container of some grilled chicken you’d had the night before.

“It’s a bird, cats like bird meat.” Giving yourself a small shrug, you pull the container from the fridge and open it. It takes a few moments to shred it down to something a bit more manageable to chew with your fingers, before you pop it in the microwave to nuke it a bit. You didn’t mind cold chicken, but assuming the cat had spent the night outside, you figure a little warmth in its belly would be nice.

As though sensing your intentions, when you open the front door, the black cat is sitting expectantly on the porch, staring up at the door. Its tail swipes across the wood deck lazily, seemingly unbothered by having had to wait.

“It’s not much, since I don’t really know what to feed a cat that’s okay and I don’t keep cat food… not that you appreciated it last night…” You scoff, before setting down the container on the porch in front of the cat. “But here’s some breakfast for you. Or brunch now, I suppose.”

This food smells much more interesting than the canned cat food, and the feline doesn’t hesitate to step forward and crouch down in front of the leftover container, immediately gobbling up the grilled chicken you’d shredded. You smile, watching with relief as the animal eats. You really weren’t sure at this point if the cat was a farmcat after all, a stray, or simply a spoiled wanderer—but not knowing where the animal had been overnight, and seeing it eat now after refusing food last night put your mind at ease.

You watch the cat eat in silence, making yourself comfortable and sitting back against the doorframe of your open front door. Every now and again, you sip your coffee, glance up at the street and off into the distance where you can see the rolling hills of the countryside, before looking back down at the cat. When your feline friend finishes its meal, it lays back on your porch, grooming itself in content—then moving off to a warm patch of sun and curling into a ball on your deck. Deciding you don’t want to waste this precious moment, you clean up the container before grabbing your laptop, and setting up shop on the deck for a few more hours before work, writing alongside the silent company of your tiny visitor.

“Okay, I have to go to work,” you announce after a few hours have passed, not entirely sure why you’re detailing this to the cat. If it really was a stray, it would probably remove itself from your company whenever. Or, you’d return home after work to it having disappeared again. The thought made you wistful—maybe even a bit sad. This had been the first you’d ever had the cat’s extended company and attention for, and you were growing quite used to it.

To your surprise, when it actually is time to leave for work, the cat begins to follow you after you’ve closed and locked up your little house. You let out an amused half smile, watching as the cat follows alongside you. “What, are you my chauffeur now?”

The walk to work that day is infinitely more amusing than all the other times you’d walked the same path. You don’t have much to ramble to your companion about that day, though you do mention that you wonder if Juyeon will pop in at the coffee shop in the afternoon. Typically, he was a morning coffee person, but you’d seen him stop by in the evenings once in a while. Instead of talking as you walk, though, you watch as the cat darts ahead of you every once in a while—chasing a stray leaf on the breeze and pouncing after it down the street until it lies motionless on the ground. Sometimes, the cat lags behind, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder to see what curiosities it's getting itself into—jumping on a fence to tease a dog, sniffing around at certain things on the path, or slinking down close to the ground and acting as if it’s hunting nothing in particular, before darting ten feet ahead of you at a run and waiting for you to catch up.

“Don’t stay out here for too long tonight,” you warn the cat, pausing outside the coffee shop. “This street gets busy on weekends, someone might not see you…” You didn’t want to imagine the poor cat getting lost in the crowd. The coffee shop was in the center of a small village shopping square, and on weekend evenings it filled up with families and others sharing date nights and evening events together. You frown, wondering if the cat will listen, before giving the animal a small little wave and heading inside.

When you set to work, you can’t help but find yourself glancing out the window periodically—taking mental stock of the cat through your shift. Each time you go to clean a table, you peer out the window and see the cat either peering right back in at your, or napping somewhere nearby. Every time you call out someone’s order, you push yourself onto your tiptoes to glance over the customer’s shoulder as they near, mentally noting every spot the little black shape outside moves to. If a new customer enters the shop, you greet them and take their order, and before the transaction finishes you ask in a quiet voice if there’s a cat outside still—relieved when a customer confirms they’d seen one lounging about.

Halfway through your shift, your cat friend disappears from the view of the window, and a small panic sets in. You notice as you’re taking an order for a couple of guests, two people who can’t seem to settle on their decision and keep talking over each other as they tell you what they want. They aren’t the type of people to inquire about the cat outside, especially since it seems as though they’ve popped into the coffee shop for an afternoon pick-me-up to help settle some of their irritation. Yet as you speak with them, and punch in their order, you can’t help your eyes darting off to the side now and again to try and peek around them and out the window.

“Can you take over the register for a bit?” You ask of your coworker almost as soon as the two chatty, indecisive guests walk away. You don’t wait for them to reply—considering they always drop the same on you without warning. It’s rare of you to return the “favor,” but you don’t feel guilty doing so.

As you move around the counter, you grab a tray and a cleaning rag in order to clean some tables, eyes never leaving the window as you do so.

“Was that your cat? The one outside?” Your coworker asks, scoffing. “Should take better care of it.”

You scowl, eyes snapping back to your coworker, who shrinks in surprise at the ferocity of your gaze. “No it’s not. It’s a stray that followed me, and I’m worried.” As you turn away from them, you grumble under your breath, “You have a nasty habit of assuming the worst of people.”

As you near the window, searching for the black furry shadow outside, your eyes are so fixated you barely register the door of the shop opening and the lackluster greeting being called out by your coworker. In fact, you’re so out of it that, as you move, you practically stumble straight into a wall of body that had just entered the shop. You stumble back in surprise, realizing that you’ve almost walked straight into a customer, glancing up to apologize—and blanching when you realize it’s Juyeon.

“S-sorry!”

Juyeon smiles in greeting. “It’s fine,” he answers, before glancing over his shoulder outside, then back down at you. “Are you okay?”

“I— yeah… I just—” You frown. “Nevermind, it’s nothing. What can I get for you today?” Sparing one last glance at the window, you move back toward the counter, eyeing your coworker as they move away and disappear, refusing as always to take the young warlock’s order.

“Can I sit at the bartop today?” Juyeon asks, trailing after you. You glance over your shoulder at him in surprise, before nodding.

“Let me take your order and then you can take a seat.”

“I’d like a mochachino today.”

You punch in the order, looking at him in surprise. “Chocolate?”

Juyeon smiles that soft smile that always seems to leave you winded and out of breath. “Craving something sweet, but I’ve got some work to do, so I need something that will keep me awake, too.”

You nod, letting out a hum of understanding from the back of your throat. When you read the total off to him, Juyeon pays the appropriate amount, and you wave him to the bartop just to the left of the cash register. His presence at the bartop is almost certain to keep your coworker from ever returning to the front of house, so you silently hope that no sudden rush comes through the cafe as you set to work making his drink.

“Why did you seem so distracted when I came in earlier?” Juyeon asks, tone of voice idle. You glance over your shoulder, away from the espresso machine, in surprise when he speaks. Had he always been this chatty? Although, to be fair, Juyeon always came in during the morning rushes and you never had a chance to actually talk to him.

You aren’t sure what really catches you by surprise—the fact that he’s making conversation with you, or the fact that his deep voice has caused your heart to begin a rapid and stuttering beat in your chest. Yet, somehow, despite your nervousness to be talking to a young man you’d always admired from your own little corner of the coffee shop, and how he gazed out the window and watched the world in silent content and admiration, and offered up sweet and soft smiles to everyone around him—his voice also fills you with a warmth that’s almost soothing. Like the familiar smell of the coffee grounds that waft through the shop daily, then later cling to the strands of your hair when you get home. It feels familiar.

“Are you really okay?” He asks, prompting again.

“I’m fine. I was just worried… there was a cat outside. It followed me to and from work yesterday and today, and now that it’s getting busy I’m wondering where it went off to and if it’s okay. I feel responsible even though it might be a stray that just followed me for its own amusement,” you explain as you work.

When you finish Juyeon’s order, you turn and set it on the counter in front of him. He smiles, as always, and takes it with a polite and soft thank you, before leveling you with his gaze.

When his eyes land on you, almost instantly you feel your heart seize up in your chest. You’ve never been this close to Juyeon before—never actually gotten a good look at him up close. His features from afar are stunning; he’s handsome in a very simple way that’s easy on the eyes. But up close, it’s almost as if he’s crafted from marble. You’ve never had a chance to admire his sharp features; study the lines of his jaw and his high-placed cheekbones, notice the square shape of his earlobes, or admire his long and straight nose or the way his lips curl upward slightly at the corners.

“Cats are street smart, you know. I’m sure your little stray friend is fine. They probably know these streets better than the both of us,” Juyeon replies, “And luckily for them, people in this town are a little kinder to stray cats than other types of strays.”

It’s then that you meet his gaze, catching on to a deeper implication of his words—studying his almond-shaped brown eyes and taking note of the curious amber flecks that hit the warm yellow light of the cafe just right.

“No way,” you breathe out.

Juyeon smiles—and this time, his smile isn’t the usual soft and kind one, but one that pushes his cheeks up in a way that causes his eyes to smile along with the rest of his face. He seems much too amused by the realization setting across your face, followed by a flush that follows soon after. You’d ranted and rambled about Lee Juyeon to Lee Juyeon—albeit not the human one.

You’d heard that some witches and warlocks could shapeshift, and that others had familiars. Never once in your life did you think you’d somehow be on the receiving end of that gift. Of course, it made sense, considering the treatment around town that Juyeon often received—that he’d either hide in another form or test the honesty of those he interacted with in a different form.

Juyeon lifts his coffee cup to his lips, smiling over the rim. “Can I walk you home tonight? Perhaps this time not as a cat? I’d love to hear you regale one of your lavish tales of me.”

[headoverjojo]

Hello, can I request a scenario of Diavolo and reader with pen pal AU?? I just think it would be interesting remembering how secretive he is, but I think there’s like a chance that he’d be willing to open up more to a pen pal yknow. Thank you 💕✨

Hello there! Oh god, after so much time... I’m so sorry about it ç.ç But in any case, I sincerely hope you’ll like this little fic! 

Pen pal AU: Diavolo and reader

(Under the cut for lenght!)

Diavolo still couldn’t believe it. When Doppio, more than two months before, had suggested him to try to open up a little -he, Diavolo? Open up a little?!-, Diavolo was so near to strangle him. And, well, this would have been terribly inconvenient, as he would have ended up strangling himself. Instead, he closed himself in stubborn silence, ignoring even when Doppio was trying to call him. He was too pissed: he, a man who was so obsessed by privacy, had to open up?! Sometimes he wondered how could Doppio be so silly and, at the same time, be a part of himself.

However, after having pondered about it for a few days, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, Doppio wasn’t so out of his mind. It was true that sometimes he felt… alone, even if he loved dearly his loneliness. When he brought up the topic again, Doppio showed enthusiasm: the Boss was making the right decision! And, knowing his trust issues, he had found the right solution: a pen pal. The Boss could make a bond with them without actually seeing them, and without risking his safety: it was the most convenient deal.

Doppio managed to find a good pen pal for his Boss: their name was Y/N, and they lived in a city far away, so there was no risk to meet them. They too were quite a private person, he found out, and it was their first time as pen pal for them too. It was perfect.

Their first letters were awkward. Diavolo was too used to order around, and he felt weird to use a casual tone. Plus, he still didn’t know if he could trust them: they were a stranger, all in all. He was always scared to unmask himself, that they were just trying to lure him to reveal himself, to show his weakness, and then trying to attack him and bring him down… he was really careful and cautious, when he wrote. He never gave any hint on the place he was, or the weather, or his surroundings… anything that could suggest his position. Not even the most skilled detective would have found his house.

As days and weeks passed, however, he was more and more surprised to see that they never asked him for a more precise description of his place, or why he was using a post office box and not his personal mailbox. It seemed like they… weren’t interested in it. It seemed like they were more interested in his hobbies, what kind of music he liked, which books… their questions always baffled him.

He never thought for real about such frivolous things. He had ambitions, worries and fears, when he was young; then, he had a whole criminal organization to manage. He just… never had the time to stop and enjoy a little such casual hobbies. Killing his opponents wasn’t a respectable hobby, or at least not one he could externalize. He admitted, in his letters, that he didn’t listen to music very often, and that he hadn’t so much to read, and then he asked them for suggestions, curious, all in all, to see what they liked so much to the point to suggest it to someone else.

He listened to the songs they suggested to him, and read some of the books they loved. It was weird… it was like coming to know them deeper, in a more intimate way. He was used to decipher his opponents and, even more important, his allies from small details, in order to find a way to destroy or bend them, but this time… it was different. He wanted to know them not to possess them, but simply because he liked to know them.

Was this… friendship?

He felt a little jolt of excitement every time he saw that there was a letter in the post office box, and he always hurried Doppio to come home as soon as possible. He took control of his body the moment they stepped inside, and immediately opened the letter, reading it almost with greed. It was like a breath of fresh air: for a little while, he could smile and even laugh, reading their news. It was the most awaited moment of the whole week, a few hours when he wasn’t the feared and powerful Boss of Passione, but simply D., as he always signed himself. The man who liked Genesis and Sting and thriller books, who hated cold weather and loud people. Sometimes, he even found himself wishing it was all true, that he could have been just D. forever… but then, something brought him back to reality. A new alliance, someone who was trying to steal from him, a new criminal gang that was trying to compete with them… his world abruptly crashed his wishes, every time. He was who he was, and he couldn’t be no one else, no matter how much, sometimes, he desired it.

After a while, he even shared some really private information about himself: he told her about his Sardinian origins, and that he didn’t know who his father was. He never told it aloud, but… it was heavy, for him, not to know who his father was. He had even questioned his mother, during the time he had kept her imprisoned under the floor, but nothing. She had always murmured that she didn’t know who his father was. She had met him one night, and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Doppio never worried about these things, mostly because Diavolo made him not to worry about it; he and Doppio were, all in all, twins in one body, and he cared about his twin, in his ways. It had always been Diavolo’s duty to keep Doppio out of troubles and to elaborate painful and complicated decisions and information; feeling the burden of not knowing who their father was was his duty.

For the first time in his life, he was able to finally let these feelings go: he wrote that he felt like he was missing a part of himself, got lost with his father’s identity, and how, sometimes, this heavied on his heart. He wrote that he missed his homeland, sometimes, even if the memories tied to the island weren’t properly positive; still, it was home. The sea, the hard and direct language, the wind that always blew in the evening, the small and half dry bushes of tenacious mediterranean plants… it was carved in his memory. Yes, his life hadn’t been easy, but there were people, even if he could count them on the fingers of only one hand, that didn’t despise him: one was surely the priest who took care of him. The other two were three other old people: the guardian of the lighthouse, the undertaker, who mostly made sure to water all the flowers in front of the graves, and then an accabadora. Maybe his acquaintances were also one of the reasons he wasn’t so accepted between his town’s people… (A/N: an accabadora was a woman, usually an old woman, who was in charge to bring death to people who were so severely sick that their family required this kind of “service”, to spare their loved one of more pain. Some say that the accabadora didn’t literally bring death, but that was in charge to comfort the person who was dying ‘till their last breath, following ancient rituals)

He was tense the whole time he was waiting for their response. Maybe he had overshared… he was worried they could find out who he was for real -he knew it was a paranoid thought, but he couldn’t help to think about it-, but, at the same time, he was worried that he might have scared them away. He found himself… pained by that thought. They were the only person he had ever considered a real friend, and he just… didn’t want to lose them. He had never felt like that for any other person, excluding Doppio; every Capo, every subordinate, could be replaced in no time. But Y/N… they were unique. They couldn’t be replaced, and losing them… it was unbearable. His heart started to sink when, that Saturday, the day he usually received their response, his post office box was empty. Maybe it was too much for them, and they just decided to stop writing to him…

He couldn’t stop to think about it, especially now that he was back in his homeland. He had to come back in a hurry, in order to stop a group of kids who were so tenaciously trying to find out his identity… and, last but not least, they had his daughter with them. He needed to stop them before it was too late… Doppio, of course, didn’t know about the real reason behind his Boss’ orders; he just knew that he had to take care about a couple of “difficult subordinates”, but, at the right moment, Diavolo would have taken Doppio’s place, doing the dirty work.

Diavolo was dozing off a little, inside Doppio’s mind, when a buzz from his phone startled him. From Doppio’s eyes, he read the message from the post office: there was a letter from him in his box. Diavolo couldn’t help but to feel a sense of relief washing over him: Y/N had answered! So, they were still friends…

That news helped him to approach his job with a new strength. It shouldn’t have taken much time to finish those kids… he was Diavolo, after all, the most stand user of the whole world. Nothing could surpass his King Crimson.

He was sure to be home at most the next day. And then, he could have read their letter and breathed again for a little moment, as it always happened…

He couldn’t wait for it.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Matchup ♥

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hello there! If you don’t mind, would it be alright to request a matchup for Demon Slayer, Fullmetal Alchemist & Fire Force?

I’m an autistic, gay trans guy!

(I’m a Libra & ISFP).

I’m 4'10 with short hair that I dye often (as of right now, it’s indigo!) and I have hazel eyes, with a lot of freckles. I’m chubby, but with a very prominent hourglass figure. I gravitate towards wearing clothes that are baggy, but I have a secret love for wearing things like dresses or generally very pretty/cute clothes?

(Like.. Lolita style stuff! I have no problem wearing feminine things, and a lot of it makes me feel really confident! I often feel insecure about myself due to my autism, and I have a birth defect that gives me complications with walking, so wearing nice things and looking fancy makes me feel a lot better about myself!)

I’m timid and struggle when it comes to socialising especially with new people. I tend to not speak at first and only gesturing to avoid having to properly talk unless necessary. I struggle anxiety and extreme hyper-empathy (I feel emotions a lot more intensely than most people would). It’s not hard to get me very overwhelmed either so I do find it difficult to talk to others, but I do get along better with those who are a lot more extroverted and will open up more with people like that! Over time I tend to come more out of my shell and I’m very loving and compassionate!

I’m not the smartest, and can be pretty oblivious (i.e. with romantic advances) and need most things to be said to me at face value or I usually won’t understand, or it’ll go over my head.. And to which, I have my head in the clouds most of the time, always day-dreaming and that causes me to be uncoordinated or clumsy.. Which my short attention span doesn’t help with at all!

(It’s taken me a few hours to actually sit and write this ‘cus I keep getting distracted, haha!)

Despite my initial shyness, I have the tendency to be very loud and childish around people I like/want to impress, and won’t think much when I do this, which leads me to embarrass myself rather often. My love language comes in gifts or words of affirmation and I’m over the top lovey-dovey, but I instantly fluster if they’re returned. I’m very much so teased for how easy I am to embarrass.

I’m creative and absolutely adore most forms of fiction, taking mass amounts of inspiration from it for what I make! I’m a writer, artist and a singer in my free-time! (I love to sing for others or draw others, do anything to just show off my talent to make others happy!)

I really enjoy impressing with my ideas and their originality, and adore nothing more than when I get to talk about what I love; but sometimes I overshare or talk too much and can be unsure where to stop.

I guess overall I would do better with someone who doesn’t mind how 'eccentric’ I am? (I’m often bullied for these “strange” qualities) And someone who’s more outgoing than me? That aside, I don’t mind anything else, but I do have a type for guys who are a lot taller than me, haha!

I hope this isn’t too much, but thank you so much for reading, and if you accept this request! I really tried my hardest with this 'cus I really like this blog!

Waah, thank you again! I hope you have a nice day!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hello @eggedeggs and thank you so much for requesting with us! I am sososososos sorry this got out so late, but I truly hope that you enjoy this!

>Admin 𝕋

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽...

 Alphonse Elric! So, the reasons as to why I matched you up with Alphonse is because i really like the idea of having someone who looks so basic with someone who looks so cool, you! I feel like Alphonse, being the accepting person that he is will have no reservations being with someone so outspoken in the way you show yourself to the world. Hopefully that makes sense, but ultimately Alphonse will ultimately be fascinated with how you look, cool hair and lolita style and all! 

You aren’t the only person who is a little timid at first, Alphonse is just as timid, but as had time to adjust to it. He could be someone that could help you with your shyness and being timid! He understands the feeling, he knows how it feels to be shy towards others, so he will know how to help you feel more confident! And when you feel overwhelmed about meeting new people, he will pull you to he side and make sure that you okay, make sure that you feel calm until you can socialize again, and if you can’t then he will take you some place that will help you feel better! He also loves that you are so compassionate and he especially loves watching you come out of your shell when you are comfortable around people! SO with that in mind, Alphonse will do everything in his power to make you feel comfortable so that he can see you being the bubbly and eccentric person you are!

Alphonse would notice your love of fiction, how you are always reading or writing; so he’ll sometimes go into town and look the various shops to see if they have a new fiction book or if they have someone writing utensils that would suit you and your creative endeavors! He is very attentive to stuff that really makes you happy, so when he sees something that make your smile the brightest, Alphonse will never hesitate to get it for you, no matter the cost!

All in all, I feel that Alphonse will be the best fit for you in the fullmetal universe because he is attentive, loves how you express, yourself, understands your shyness and how sometimes being around people really overwhelms you! He will love every bit of you from head to toe. He isn’t really the most outgoing person, but for you, he will do his best to be the man of the party!

Tanjiro! Okay, so you and Tanjiro! It’s just *Chef’s kiss*! Tanjiro is a pretty outgoing guy with a love for friends and family that compares to no other! And you not be an exception to that! He would love you cute clothes, your cool Indigo hair, and your amazing hourglass figure! 

Tanjiro would be understanding about your shyness around other people, though wouldn’t personally understand it himself. But that won’t stop him from trying to make sure that you feel comfortable around his friends and such! And oh boy, once you do get comfortable enough to show all of them your funny confident side, Tanjiro’s eyes will become literal hearts for you! He will fin d it extremely endearing when you talk about things that you love and things that give you inpiration! And just as Alphonse will do, Tanjiro will find things that will help you get more inspirations and more motivation to be creative!

Tanjiro will notice that you are a bit floaty, in the sense that you get distracted a lot, which is perfectly fine for him, he is the kind of person that has dealt with that and knows how to help you back to the grounds of reality! But sometimes, Tanjiro will let you do you thing, whatever it may be, from thinking about something else entirely or maybe just letting you stay in your daydream! He mostly does it because he the look on your face whenever you go into your little dreamland intrigues. He always wonders what you are thinking about whether it be your next project or something about the flowers in the garden! He just likes staring and watching, his heart beating rapidly because of how cute it is!

He would love if you were to tell him your ideas, run it by him so that he can be a part of the creative adventure! Tell him about a new book you want to write or maybe a piece of art that you want to paint! And if by chance, the painting would be a portrait of him, he will smile and excitedly pose for the painting! He wants to be there every step of the way even if he doesn’t really know what is going on!

All in all, I feel like you and Tanjiro would make a fantastic couple! He will help you get out of your shell a little but, but still support you when you need to be a lone to recharge! He will be there for you when you have amazing ideas for a book or a picture that you want to make! Tanjiro will be the one to make you feel confident and feel great about yourself with how much love he will shower on you! So make sure to give some of that love back to him!

Vulcan! So, I chose Vulcan purely for the aesthetic, like come on. You have this amazing lolita look going on with the cool hair and the and the nice sense if style mixed in with his tattoos and rocker look, and his hair and iron personality, it just makes so much sense to pair you up with him! His personality is outgoing, loud, and rambunctious. It’s something that can really combat your shy demeanor in a good way. The way you see him conversing with other people, they way he would make you feel comfortable around because he is with you will help you tremendously! He will make sure you will never feel overwhelmed ever again, and knowing him he will most likely try to fight that overwhelming feelings himself. On another note, I feel that out of all three of these guys, Vulcan would be the most into your body! He wou0d loves the curves and just, the way you look in clothing, he just love it so much! 

As for your floaty mind and your daydreaming, he would find it a extremely endearing and kind of irritating at times, but mostly endearing. What makes it irritating for him is when you do it for too long and you accidentally fall and hurt yourself or something along those lines. He just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself! He also doesn’t want you to forget things, but he would learn to live with it by putting little notes all around your shared space, making sure that you don’t forget at least the important things, such as doctors appointments or  bills that need to be paid! 

Vulcan will be the type to constantly want to embarrass you, so if you show him any affection and he returns then sees you get all flustered by his affections, you will be in for a long ride! He will shower you in hugs and kisses just to see how red you can get! Is it mean? Yes, but does he really care? No, not when you look so cute when you are blushing! He can’t handle it! But he does it cause he loves you, and if anything it is more of an excuse to give you more hugs and kisses!

On another note, he will be absolutely love how creative you are! I mean, look at him, you and Vulcan can do wonders to the worlds with both of your creative minds working together! So, all in all, I think that you and Vulcan would make a fantastic couple in the fire force universe. He will treat you spectacularly, with care and with lots of love! So make sure you give him your all too!

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Let’s Burn the World Down - AUgust Day 6

Title: Let’s Burn the World Down

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Clint Barton/Tony Stark, Background relationships: Bucky/Natasha, Steve/Sam

Link: Read on AO3

Summary: Tony falls in love with the guy he keeps meeting in the ER. Too bad the guy already has a girlfriend... or does he?

+++++++++++

For a billionaire, Tony has to go to the hospital very often. Whether it’s a lab accident, a car accident, an assassination attempt, and/or anything else, Tony finds himself in the ER at least once a month. His insurance is higher than his standards, which isn’t saying much, Tony surmises, because he’s halfway in love with the guy he sees almost every time he goes.

 They’ve seen each other so frequently that they’ve started nodding to each other and saying, “What are you in for?” like they do in the movies at the police station.

 Although he’s being truthful, Tony knows that most of his incidents sound very made up. “Oh, they sent someone to assassinate me, but I managed to flirt my way out of it with only a stab wound.” “My lab exploded.” “My robot dropped a steel sheet on my foot.” “I tripped on something and fell off my porch to the porch below.” But he is even more disbelieving of this man’s injuries.

The guy says stuff like “I shot myself with a boomerang arrow.” “I was skydiving with my dog and my parachute got caught on a tree branch, and an eagle attacked me.” “I think that pizza I ate was too old.” “My old circus buddy tried to kill me. He failed.” “I fell out of the vents, and the bad guys beat me up.”

 Today Tony comes in because he had to jump through a window to avoid Sunset Bain. He now has glass sticking out of his side, and he’s sitting calmly until a doctor can see him. The man limps in, bloody and skin mangled on his leg. The others in the ER gasp as he signs in and takes a seat beside Tony. “Hey man, what you in for?” He asks.

 “Jumped out a window to avoid my ex.”

 “Mood.” The man nods sagely. “I just battled a cougar and won. Before you ask, yes it was the cat kind, although I don’t doubt that a middle-aged woman couldn’t do this if she was rejected.” He gestures to his leg. Tony barks out a laugh.

 “Oh, they could. Trust me. By the way, I never got your name. Or did you want to stay anonymous?” Tony asks.

 The man shakes his head. “We’d go great no matter how we do it. Name’s Clint.”

 “I’m Tony.”

“Yea, I know.” When Tony looks at him, surprised, Clint pats his shoulder placatingly. “You’ve got these people fooled with your greasy shirts and hats, but I never forget a face. Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out. But why do you come to this crappy ER all the time? Aren’t you supposed to go to the ones that are made for rich people?”

 Tony shrugs. Truthfully, the first couple time he came, it was because he had happened to be in the neighborhood when disaster struck. He had struck up conversation with Clint, and he decided that if he were able to talk with him, Tony would keep coming to this ER. “I don’t know. I’m in the area a lot, I guess.”

 Tony gets that he has problems. He knows that he quickly falls in love with anyone who will show him kindness or even just the time of day because he didn’t get enough love and attention from his parents as a child. He goes to therapy, and he does make an effort to figure out which people are being nice only because they want something, which people are just simply being nice, and which people are flirting. It’s still hard sometimes, like now. He doesn’t think Clint wants something because 1.) he just said that he won’t rat Tony out and 2.) he could have taken Tony’s wallet very easily many times. But is Clint just a nice dude, or does he like Tony?

 A nurse gets Tony just as another comes for Clint. Tony lies on his side for far too long as they pull glass from his body. When he’s cleared to go, the doctor tells him, “You have to be more careful, Mr. Stark. You’re not invincible, and I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

 “Thanks Doc. I’ll do my best.” He shakes the man’s hand.

 On his way out, he sees Clint talking to a beautiful redhead. She is reaming him out in Russian, calling him and idiot and a few other unsanitary words. Clint tries to console her, but she grabs his hand and pushes him into her car. She speeds off, still shouting in Russian. Tony’s heart drops. He has no chance with Clint now. No one would give up a woman like her for him unless they wanted something.

 The next time Tony gets hurt, he goes to the ER near his home. He is in and out shortly, but Tony feels incomplete. He misses the easy camaraderie with Clint. I can still joke with him as friends, right? There’s no harm in that. He reasons, but he chickens out the next time, when he accidentally burns his arm with his blowtorch, and then when he gets shot. This keeps happening until it has been at least three months since he last saw Clint.

 Tony gets drunk in a bar | in Brooklyn. Very, very drunk. The thing about being a Stark – you can hold your liquor very well, and even when you are so drunk most people black out, you can still walk and talk albeit hindered a little. Well, Tony is that drunk, and this is when he tends to overshare. He’s telling the bartender, a beefy man with long brown hair, about Clint. “So, there’s this guy, you know. Only time I see him is when I go to the ER. He’s really cute, he’s got like tons of biceps, and he’s funny. We used to see each other all the time, and I think I love him. But one time, I saw him, and he had a girlfriend. Super, smoking hot redhead – like I don’t even stand a chance. So, I’ve been avoiding him. It’s dumb because he doesn’t know I like him, and I keep convincing myself that I can still talk to him as friends and such, but then my brain just tells me he has a girlfriend, and I end up going to an ER near my house. You know?”

 “Not really.” The bartender grins. “But I’m not an ER regular.”

“That’s too bad. It’s fun there sometimes.” Tony pats his hand somberly. “Sometimes we freak people out with our injuries. But we’re calm. It happens so much that we’re just like ‘meh’.  The doctor told me to be careful because I wasn’t invincible, and I was like ‘ok, I’ll tell my enemies to stop trying to kill me. I hope it works.’”

 The bartender throws back his hand and laughs. Tony drains his glass of Scotch and asks for another. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” The bartender asks. What was his name? Barney? Barn?

 “Barnes!” Yells someone from the other end of the bar. “I need a mimosa stat!”

 “Shut your whore mouth Wilson!” Barnes yells back. “I’m not serving you anything after what you and Steve put me though last night!” He turns back to Tony. “The dude’s dating my step-brother, and our walls aren’t soundproofed. I hate them so much.”

 “I could soundproof your walls for you.” Tony offers. He’s not sure why he offered, but he did. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before.

 “Thanks for the offer, but Nat and I will get them back at some point. Maybe we’ll do it on the couch.” Barnes grins. “Someone else can make Sam’s mimosa. Wanda’s working that end of the bar anyways.” He gives Tony one more Scotch and says, “This is your last one. I’m going to have to cut you off because I don’t want you to die.”

 Tony quietly sips on his drink while Barnes makes other drinks. Once done, he stuffs a few hundreds in the tip jar and turns to leave when a scarlet-haired woman sits on the stool beside him. Tony blinks at her for a second, thinking that she looks familiar. Barnes’ face lights up, and he comes over to her. “Hey, come here often?” He asks, fake seductively.

 “Don’t be an idiot,” She tells him and pulls his face in for a kiss. Tony realizes why he thinks she looks familiar. She’s Clint’s girlfriend!

He spins on his stool to face them. “You bitch!” He yells at her, then clamps a hand over his mouth as Barnes growls a warning. “I am so sorry. I don’t know your situation. You could have broken up with him, or hey, you’re a threesome, or an open relationship. I’m sorry. I was just caught up… and I’ll just go.”

 Tony stumbles off the stool and heads out of the bar. Mind swirling with liquor and shame, he doesn’t notice he’s in the street or the ugly purple car headed towards him until it’s too late. Frozen, he stares down the lights until the car smacks into him.

 Lying on the ground, the last thing he remembers is a person jumping out and yelling, “What are you doing, you idiot? Tony?”

 Tony wakes up in a strange place. He feels like he should be in the hospital, but he’s not. Looking around, he sees a lot of… purple. “Ugh, no one should have this much purple anything,”

 “I take offense to that.” A voice says. Wait… that’s Clint. Tony wildly tries to sit up, and Clint comes into his line of vision. “Hey, hey lie back down! I don’t think anything’s broken, but you should probably just let your body rest for a while.”

 “What happened?”

 “I hit you with my car because you were standing in the middle of the street. Why were you standing in the middle of the street?” Clint looks worried.

 Tony tries to wave him off. “You know, just for the thrill.”

 “Tony, most things I do are just for the thrill, and I know it’s idiotic to stand in the middle of the street.”

 “Yeah well, the thing I did before it was idiotic, too, so I’m pretty good at that.” Tony sighs. He doesn’t really want to get into it because Clint will probably make him leave. Tony’s good at leaving. Everyone makes him leave after they learn his true self. Ah, well, what does he have to lose but the love of his life?

 “So, last time we were both at the ER, I saw the woman who picked you up. I guess I just figured you were dating the way you both interacted with each other,” Tony explains. “Well, at the bar last night, she came in and made out with the bartender. I called her a bitch because my first thought was that she was cheating on you. Then I remembered that it had been three months, and I didn’t really know anything about you – you might have broken up, or were poly, or open relationship. Point is, I’m an idiot who speaks before he thinks then faces the consequences, even if they’re not direct.” He is very confused when Clint starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

 “I can’t believe you called Natasha a bitch and still live to tell the story.” Clint says between gasps. “That’s fuckin hilarious. I am sorry that I hit you with my car.”

 Tony is thoroughly confused, and Clint takes pity on him. “Natasha is dating Bucky, the bartender. She’s my best friend and confidante. She gets angry when I do stupid things, but I still do them. We are not dating, never have, and never will. Hopefully, that clears things up.”

 “A little.” Tony just feels disoriented. This is not something he has ever had to deal with before.  

 There’s a knock at the door. This “Natasha” pokes her head in. “Hey Clint, is he ok?”

 “Yea, come in. Tony meet Natasha Romanoff. Natasha, this is Tony Stark.” Clint gestures to the both of them.

 Natasha smirks. “Hi Tony.”

 “Hi,” He says weakly. “I’m sorry for calling you a bitch. I sometimes talk before I think, and I’m sorry.”

 “Just don’t do it again. Are you guys hungry? Bucky’s making blini.”

 Clint nods. “Tell him I love him. We’ll take two plates. You like blini, right?” He directs the question at Tony.

 “I think so. I’ve only had them once or twice,” Tony says. When Natasha leaves, he tells Clint, “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

 “Well this is my room, so I want to stay here. By the way, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while. I was starting to think you took my fancy ER comment seriously.”

 Tony grimaces. “Well, it’s a long story. But I did end up going to the ER near my house a couple times. It’s hard to get no injuries in the stuff I do.”

 “Well, I don’t blame you for going to the uber fancy ERs, you know, because there’s better service or whatever. But if you do, can we hang out somewhere other than the ER, then? I kind of missed you, man.” Clint looks at Tony earnestly.

 “The main reason I stopped going to our ER is that I saw you with Natasha and thought, ‘how could I ever compete?’ I would tell myself to just go. I could talk to you as a friend, and not me crushing on you, but I always psyched myself out when I got hurt, and I just went to the ER by my house.”

 “You’re crushing on me? Wow. I did not know that. I crushed on you the first day I saw you, and I thought you were just being nice. I’m a dumpster fire on my best days.”

 Tony shoots him a wicked grin. “Then let’s burn down the world together.” 

[quibblesticks]

spread this for the bad adults to see

i don’t know if there are a ton of bad adults on tumblr, but i just want to say, for the record, that there are a lot of things you should not do to your kid!

from experience, here are some of the things you might not realize you’re doing that really make your child want to distance themselves from you:

- you don’t respect their space i cannot emphasize this first point enough. i get super uncomfortable when people get too close, so i tried to set boundaries with my mother. they got ignored literally moments after i tried to make them. this kind of thing makes your child stay as far away from you as possible so that you can’t invade their space as easily.

- you talk to them about things that make them uncomfortable if you do this to them, they will purposefully spend as little time with you as possible. at least, i know i do. while there are some things that people have to learn, making them uncomfortable should be for safety and education purposes ONLY, and not done unreasonably often. if you make your child uncomfortable, your communication will your child will almost undoubtedly suffer from it.

- you do complete 180s on them my mother constantly goes from smiling at something her friend said on the phone to downright glaring at me the second i say something she doesn’t like. it’s frustrating, unnerving, and it makes me feel like i can’t talk to her. 

- you only complement them for your purposes this one doesn’t make a lot of sense at first glance, so let me explain. you might only complement your kid when they did something you wanted them to do or if you’re about to ask them to do something you want them to do. for example, my mom wanted to get pictures taken of our family, and had a clear idea of what she wanted me to wear, even though I didn’t want to wear it because it made me uncomfortable and wasn’t well-suited for the weather. i ended up wearing it, and the second she saw me in it, she complemented me on how pretty i looked, and then asked if she could do my makeup (which i have established many times that i don’t like). you should obviously complement your kid if they feel uncomfortable and you think it’s the right thing to do, but you should always give them an option to change the thing that’s making them uncomfortable. you should also make many efforts to complement things just because you want them to feel good about themselves, not because of any personal motive. 

- you project onto them as i’ve grown up, i’ve noticed how badly my mother projects onto me, and mainly me. she constantly talks about how “fat” she is (i kid you not, she’s probably under 120 pounds) and how she needs to eat less (she eats very little at breakfast and lunch), among other things. i’ve noticed that she tries to limit my food intake as best she can, and constantly tells me that i’m going to “get fat” if i eat a decent amount of food. (for the record, i am like stick thin and constantly hungry. my friends can attest to this, since i’m always carrying around candy). it’s so frustrating to see my mother ignore my needs for fear that i’ll get fat, which is not even something that i’m concerned about. in addition, her fear has caused my siblings to constantly joke about how i’m supposedly going to get fat if i eat lots of junk food, which i’ve never taken to heart, but is still very toxic behavior. (projecting is part of gaslighting!)

- you take away their choices, and you never let them have their way in my opinion, this is one of the most common things i see my mother doing to me, and it’s one of the worst. she’ll constantly ask me if i want to do things, and when i say no, she’ll berate me for not wanting to do it. if i insist that it’s not something i want to do, i get punished for it. my only other option is to just go along with it, causing her to believe it’s something i actually want to do. even though, at face value, it looks like she gives me a choice, i really have no say in the matter except for what the consequences are. please bear with me for this part. it’s a long example, and requires context which i give, but it reinforces my point. for example, i once was made to do some volunteer work in a combination of my least favorite circumstances (forced to interact with people i don’t know and like in the middle of a sweltering summer filled with bugs, outside, doing yardwork). i didn’t get a choice in whether i went or not. my mother was talking to the mother of a girl in the group who she wanted to impress. (for context, i had told my mother multiple times that i don’t really like her daughter and don’t want to do activities with her. my mother kept insisting, saying that it was polite since they had invited us over.) she asked me if i wanted to get ice cream with the girl afterwards (i had been planning on going home and taking a shower). i said no, and she insulted me and asked me why. i told her i didn’t really like the girl and that it was really bad timing, since i just wanted to go home straight afterwards. my mother then proceeded to call me a spoiled brat, and it led into what was pretty much a screaming/crying match. it was awful. i still constantly think about it. she took away all my devices. (this was early quarantine, to rub salt in the wound). when she left the house, i had to ask my brother if i could use his phone to call my dad just so he could hear my side of the story before my mother got to him. after my mother got back to the house, i tried to communicate to her that if she insisted i have ice cream with this girl, i’d like to do it at a different time. at least before i got all sweaty and exhausted (mentally and physically) from yardwork. she continued to insult me and tell me that i should have said that sooner, and when i tried to tell her that i was getting there before she started calling me a spoiled brat, she got mad at me.  later, when things had calmed down, i had not gotten so much as a compromise. i even tried to ask my mom not to call me a spoiled brat in the future, and she told me it would only happen when i stopped acting like one. whatever trust i had for my mother is now long gone because of it. 

- you only place worth on their achievements, and not their mental health i’m sure this is a super common one that adults do. this is so upsetting to children because it makes them strive towards an impossible goal, sacrificing their well-being in the process. i feel like i don’t really have to give an example for this one, since it’s probably happened to everyone. in my experience, this has led to me overworking myself and never being satisfied with “almost there.” by not placing value on their mental health, you are making your kid feel like they are only worth what they can give you. this is toxic. 

- you isolate your child this is actually a sign of gaslighting. your child doesn’t need to be completely isolated for this to be considered gaslighting. as long as you make it so that it seems that they can only rely on you, you’re seriously hurting them. your child will almost inevitably realize that you’re trying to manipulate them, and it will cause them to hate you. there’s a difference between this and fair punishment for bad behavior, to be clear. for example, forcing them to cut off all contact with the outside world for a long (at least a week) or indefinite period of time is isolating them. if you ground them because of something you did, but still leave channels of easy communication with people they trust open for them, congratulations! you’re probably doing it right. this doesn’t happen to me as much as i see it in other people, but it’s still really important to be aware of what’s fair punishment and what’s not. 

there’s a ton of other things, and if you have anything you feel like adding, please do because i know i didn’t get them all, but i couldn’t make this like eight pages long.

basically, doing these things to your child makes them feel uncomfortable around you. they feel like they can’t trust you, and that means that they can’t communicate with you properly. they can’t and won’t ask you for help. they will inevitably distance themselves from you. 

in addition, they will feel alone. their mental health and sense of self-worth will probably deteriorate if left unchecked. they will have lower standards for themselves than they should. that increases their chances of being stuck in an abusive relationship or just generally feeling unsatisfied. 

personally, i feel like my experiences with my mother have led to problems communicating-- with anyone-- as well as feeling on edge whenever i’m around her. i’m beginning to realize that, as much as i hate lying, i speak to her mainly in half-truths. i feel like she only knows her idealized version of me: a preschooler who adores her and clings to her every word, and who can’t and/or won’t have opinions of her own. it’s also become very obvious to me that i am not her ideal daughter, not even close, nor do i ever think i will be. i don’t talk to her if i can help it, and i make efforts to be near her as little as possible. i never volunteer to be alone with her, and even make special efforts to ensure that i am not left alone with her. i am entirely willing to allow my relationship with my mother deteriorate, and can’t wait to move out. 

here is a link to the 11 warning signs of gaslighting, in case you are worried you are being gaslighted or you’re doing it to someone else: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/here-there-and-everywhere/201701/11-warning-signs-gaslighting

i’m sorry the post was so long (and i probably definitely overshared-- oops) but again, feel free to add to this as you see fit

[delimeful]

watch it burn and rust (3)

warnings: panic, fear, guilt, blood mention, miscommunication

Chapter 3

They stayed like that, curled up against the wall in an almost-hug, for what seemed like hours. Patton was too blissed out to worry about being overbearing, a low purr curling from his throat, and so the cuddling continued until Virgil’s hand slid off his back.

He peered up, curious, and was alarmed to see that the Human’s eyes were closed, his body gone limp. Panic rushed through him; had Virgil had some kind of negative reaction? No Ampen had done this to a Human and lived before! 

He hesitated, and then stretched up and patted at Virgil’s cheeks, careful not to poke too hard. For creatures that could survive near anything, Humans were so soft. 

“Virgil. Virgil!” He called, the name twisting oddly in his mouth. “Wake up!” 

“Patt’n?” His Human mumbled, turning his head away from the insistent pats. His eyelids kept drooping, even as he struggled to stay awake, eyes darting around. “Danger?” 

“No… but, are you okay?” Patton pressed his ear to Virgil, hearing a concerningly small number of heartbeats. “Sick?” 

Virgil quirked the ends of his lips. “No. Rest. Sleep. It’s okay.” 

He leaned his head back again, curling his arms a little more around Patton as he fell back to sleep. Sleepiness wasn’t a common reaction, but it wasn’t really dangerous. He still worried, but supposed that Virgil would know his own limits best. Even so, he kept the flow of energy cut off as he sank into a content sleep himself. 

He got more worried after Virgil ended up asleep for way longer than normal, but once the Human finally woke up, he didn’t seem all that concerned. 

“Patton?” He asked, staring across the room where Patton was sitting, antennae flat against his skull. “Okay?” 

“No.” Patton answered miserably in Common, and Virgil straightened, scanning the room. “I’m sorry… You were asleep for so long because of me.” 

“Um… sleep okay?” Virgil responded, uncertain. “No bad.” 

Patton shook his head, willing the Human to understand. “My fault. I stole energy from you. I’m sorry, Virgil.” 

There was a pause while Virgil mouthed a few of the words, before the sentence seemed to click. “Ah! Ampen, yeah? Sick?” 

Patton blinked. Virgil… knew about his species already? 

“No hurt. Sleep. Okay, to…” Virgil’s eyes flicked back and forth, as though searching for a word. “Help! Okay to help you. Sleep okay.” 

He did that lip curl again, eyes creasing slightly, and Patton was overcome with gratitude and fondness. He choked out a stifled half-sob of relief, and the expression dropped off Virgil’s face. 

“Sorry, sorry-“ Virgil frantically tried the soothing Ampen call, and Patton shook his head again, scrambling back over to the Human’s space. He grabbed Virgil’s shaky hand, looking up at his strange brown eyes earnestly. 

“I’m happy. You’re very kind, Virgil.” 

Near-instantly, Virgil’s face changed to that blazing red-pink, and he ducked his head. “No, no.” 

“Yes, yes!” Patton crowed back, struck with the delightful revelation that the red expression meant embarrassment. “You are kind and nice and soft, and you- you helped me.” His voice cracked. “You helped me. Thank you.” 

“You… help, too.” Virgil muttered, chin still tucked against his chest. “Before you come, no talk… Human, Ampen, guard. No talk. No help. No...” He touched Patton’s hand, feather-light. 

His hearts ached. “We help each other now. Yeah?” 

Virgil did the half-smile. “Yeah.” 

—-

Things after that settled into a sort of rhythm. 

His corner long abandoned, Patton found comfort in just laying next to Virgil, who never seemed bothered at all by the companionship. It was nice, knowing that there was someone on this ship that actually cared about him. The fact that that someone just so happened to be a Human was just a hilarious and reassuring bonus. 

Whenever they were both awake, they practiced speaking. Virgil was a quick learner, now that he was actually being taught, rather than puzzling out bits and pieces of the language himself. He often asked about what the word was like in Patton’s home language as well, doing his best to mimic the sounds despite his vocal chords not being built for such things. Patton was touched, and over time, picked up a few Human words as well. 

They talked for hours, until one of them (generally Virgil) got tired, and as Virgil’s sentences became smoother, fuller, Patton learned more and more about Humans, or at least his Human. They only had one heart, though it was huge compared to all seven of Patton’s. The teeth-baring and lip-curling was the Human version of a smile, and they had no antennae or feathers or fur for warmth, other than the hair on their head. Virgil’s was a faded purple, and it didn’t change unless he dyed it with chemicals from his home. 

Virgil spoke about home a lot. He made it sound a lot less threatening than Patton suspected it really was, but it was clear that the Human missed it. He’d never gotten to see the surface of other worlds, being abducted and trapped from his first moment in space. For Patton, who had known since a young age that he wanted to wander the galaxy, it was a hard concept to grasp. 

In return, he shared details about his home, local phrases in his own language, the children he often watched while visiting. He was hesitant at first, worried about oversharing, but Virgil soaked the stories up like a sponge, asking his own questions at the end. It sort of reminded Patton of Logan, and he felt a pang at the thought of his friend, who would surely be delighted at all the new information about a mysterious and difficult to study species like Humans.

Patton didn’t talk about them, keeping all those thoughts tucked deep inside his chest. In some small way, he still hoped that they’d find him, that Virgil could meet them properly and get to know them firsthand. 

Every time the guards came to retrieve Virgil, though, his hope was tested. The Human always put up a cursory fight, thrashed and struggled if it seemed like the smugglers were going to look in the corner where Patton was hidden, seemingly uncaring of the paralyzing shocks he received in return. It made him shake with rage and upset on Virgil’s behalf.

He came back weak and sometimes ill, and never volunteered any information about where he was taken. Patton silently wondered what in the world they could be taking from a Human, but never asked, only curling up with him and comforting him with their familiar tune.

It was a bit after such a time that Virgil drew Patton’s attention to something he should have realized long before. His hand paused in its aimless petting, and he gently rubbed a thumb over something, making Patton shiver and look up in confusion. 

“You have… um, sharp, small things.” He offered tentatively, staring at Patton’s back. 

It took a long second to understand, and then Patton shuffled his shoulders, feeling out the follicles. His face lit up. “My pinfeathers!”

“Your what?” Virgil asked, brow still wrinkled in the Human expression for concern. 

“Pinfeathers! They’re coming in, my feathers are growing back!” He tried to rattle the pinfeathers, but found they were still too short, barely emerged. Now that he knew, they itched like crazy. He resisted the urge to tug at them, knowing that splattering blood all over the cell was the last thing they needed.

“Good? Good!” Virgil encouraged, still a bit confused. “That not normal?”   

Patton hesitated, the blind joy fading. “They… the smugglers took them from me. Most Ampens can’t grow them back in captivity. Can’t touch when trapped.” His were growing back, though. 

They were going to tear all of them out again. 

He didn’t realize he had voiced aloud until Virgil made a low, upset sound in his throat. It was more feral than most of the noises he made, and when Patton turned to look, the Human seemed furious. “No. No. They don’t touch you.” 

Patton nodded, still a bit shaky. “Right. I’ll hide.” 

“I’ll keep you safe. Promise.” Virgil said, calling on a Human oath word. Patton felt some of the terror rescind, burying his face into Virgil’s shirt. They’d be okay, he told himself resolutely. 

And for a while, they were. 

His pinfeathers continued to grow, bolstered by Virgil’s tendency to constantly have some part of him touching Patton, as though worried the Ampen would disappear if he lost contact. They traded histories, myths, and then songs, which made Virgil go that red-pink again but he shared the Human melodies despite his shyness. He talked about Human music with a desperate sort of longing, and Patton listened to his recreations with attentiveness, memorizing the notes. 

He whistled them sometimes, after Virgil was thrown back into their cell, so long as his throat wasn’t too closed up to get the sound out. He tried not to let Virgil see how upset he was, since it made the Human upset as well, but every time he came back incoherent and in pain, Patton’s hearts broke a little more. 

In contrast with the snarling visage that always greeted the guards, Virgil was exceedingly careful with Patton, especially after he mentioned that the pinfeathers could break and lead to excessive bleeding if he didn’t notice the break right away. It was endearing to watch him ghost his hands around as though Patton was made of glass, and then freak out when he absentmindedly brushed a hand over him and the pinfeather sheaths began to crumble right off. 

After Patton managed to calm him down (and what an odd thought, him calming down a Human), he began the repetitive process of working the dried-up covers off his feathers, internally delighting every time one was fully revealed. He’d never been particularly vain about them, but after thinking he was going to die in their absence, he found himself relieved by their proper return.

Virgil watched him carefully even after being reassured that getting rid of the old pinfeathers was a normal part of the process, eyes intent in a way that Patton would have called predatory at the beginning of their relationship. He knew better now, and offered him a few of the more intact sheaths to sate his worry and curiosity. 

Eventually, most of his feathers were free, finally regrown and fully-formed. He shook himself off, the last flakes of the pinfeathers falling from him, and fluffed up like a hatchling in his excitement. 

“Look, look!” He circled Virgil joyfully, showing him the way the feathers glowed in the shadows. “Pretty cool, huh kiddo?”

“Very cool.” Virgil said, a small grin on his face. “Are they, um… broken easy?” 

“Delicate?” Patton provided, and Virgil nodded. “No, they’re pretty strong! Here, feel.” 

Virgil hesitated, going stiff, and Patton tilted his head with a worried warble, retracting his feathers slightly. “Virgil?” 

“You… want me to touch?” He asked. “You sure?” 

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I?” 

There was a long moment of silence, and Virgil shifted awkwardly against the wall. “You said… before… Ampen need touch if they don’t have feathers. You have feathers now, so you don’t have to…” He hummed in frustration, trying to find the words. “...It’s okay if you want to not be touched. I won’t hurt you, or be mad. Promise.” 

Understanding finally hit Patton, and guilt a moment later. Of course Virgil had noticed Patton’s skittish behavior when they were first stuck in here together, he noticed much more than he ever let on. He must have assumed that Patton’s mannerisms had only changed because he thought that was the only way to survive with a Human. 

“Oh, Virgil… I don’t think you would hurt me.” Patton said, reaching out and patting his leg gently. “I was scared before because I didn’t know you. I only knew all the bad rumors I’d heard, and I let that cloud my opinion of you. We’re… I want to be your friend. You’re not a bad person, and I don’t think you’d ever hurt me, okay?” 

Virgil seemed doubtful, searching his eyes for any sign of falsehoods, and slowly reached out, a silent question. Patton didn’t move or shy away from the touch, trying to convey that he really, truly trusted Virgil, that Virgil had earned that trust, not forced it. 

He ran a hand along the smooth feathers on Patton’s right arm, and a small, genuine smile appeared. “They’re really cool, Pat. Thanks for… thanks.” 

Patton beamed, puffing up with happiness, and threw himself at Virgil for a hug. The Human was big enough that his hugs were enveloping, but never overwhelming. 

The feathers made cuddling positions slightly more limited, but they still fell asleep to the same comfort of each other’s presence. After all, there was no reason for things to change, right?

Until they woke up, and suddenly things weren’t okay anymore. 

[yeocult]

Hii~ ursa minor, corvus, orion, gemini, betelgeuse, deneb, spica, proxima centauri, mimosa, star cluster, moon, comet, delta iv heavy, heavy falcon, soyuz, RCS, RD-270, raptor? (so sorry it's a lot of questions 😅)

*cracks knuckles* it’s time to get ready to overshare !! thank you for sending so much in!! it was fun hehe

ursa minor: do you have hobbies or interests that no one knows about?

hmm sports, writing, and editing? i enjoy watching sports matches and being nerdy about analyzing the players and game lol, mostly basketball and volleyball! i hate playing sports though lol. writing and editing are just for fun! (irl ppl don’t know much so i guess it’s a secret). i’d like to pursue editing to something more serious though!

corvus: what are 5 things you appreciate about yourself?

1. neatness and i’m organized! / 2. i only surround myself with good people, if there’s something off about a person i immediately cut them off (idk if this is me running away from everything bad or that i respect myself lol) / 3. how easily inspired i am / 4. chill? (is that the right word?) sometimes i just can’t bring myself to care that much abt certain things lol / 5. fashion sense i think

orion: what element would you like to be able to bend?

i convinced myself i was a waterbender when i was younger lmao but i’d like to bend fire! no reasons, i just think it’s cool hehe

gemini: which character (fictional or not) is your spirit animal?

shizuku from whisper of the heart and ursula from kiki’s delivery service...they are just so comforting!! having a lil studio in the forest is such a dream!

betelgeuse: which video games gives you nostalgia for a place you have never been to?

ah i don’t play any video games :-(

deneb: you can turn one book into a movie,tv show or video game. which one are you picking?

omg this is a hard one! i’ll probably think about this more but rn i’m completely stuck >///<

spica: when do you consider a movie “good”?

no plotholes, it’s consistent, and not so cliche. the texture, not bland, and good writing is important too. soundtrack that evokes emotions is kinda important to me as well. not so much necessary but i like it when a movie has an open ending! i look forward to the cinematography a lot too :D but honestly, everything needs to work well together, the writers, actors, and production team.

proxima centauri: if you would have the chance to travel the world, which places or countries would you like to see?

ooooh i want to visit china, germany, dublin, singapore, hanoi, japan, s.korea, and new york! so many places >///<

mimosa: what do you associate with your favourite colour?

beige - comfort, coffee, home, silence, sundays, fresh sheets, and cookie dough :DD

star cluster: what is something you have gained, something you have lost and something you let go of during the past year?

gained - interest in filmography, writing, and editing / lost - activeness ?? lmao ever since quarantine I've gotten so lazy / let go of - a close friend of 5 years

moon: “A man is made of memories. It is all we are.“ (Lawrence) what do you think this means? Do you agree?

kind of! how we act and behave was all from our childhood—memories. it shapes us how we are today. we think a lot, we experience a lot, so it think this is what the quote means...? hopefully i don’t sound stupid lol

comet: you have the chance to undo one thing or decision in your life, would you take it? If you are comfortable sharing: what did you change?

yes! i would taken more opportunity and put myself out there more often even if i’ll get hurt—i think it’s a learning experience that i’ll never get back

delta iv heavy: what is your favourite thing about your degree course?

ah i’m not there yet (i’m assuming this is for uni/college). but, i’d like to study fashion design or something in the art department hehe

heavy falcon: what is a subject you are highly interested in but you would never study yourself?

english, biochem, interior design, history, ohmygod i have a lot. but the thing with me is that i’m very interested in anything, i’m curious, but i’ll never commit to anything that isn’t art because i’m simply just not passionate enough. there’s a difference with being interested/curious and passionate for me...? (not to mention i suck at anything else lol)

soyuz: language(s) you would like to learn?

chinese!! i’ve actually started learning 2 years ago but never continued with it because it’s just too hard !!! >:( i also can’t even speak my mother tongue fluently so i need to get that first before learning another one. the tones...are soooo !!! difficult !!!!! i’ve also learned french for 7 years but i sound embarrassing sigh

RCS: how do you stay focused and productive?

sigh...i’m the worst student ever. i just kinda guilt trip myself into studying like “you’re a burden if you don’t do good on xyz” or like just slap myself and get it over with yk? it’s not the best lmaoooooo

RD-270: Do you need silence to study? or do you like to listen to music? if so, what is your go-to study-playlist?

rarely, i like to listen to music 99% of the time. it’s either a random khh/krnb playlist with new songs i’ve never listened to, lofi, or piano music! sometimes i’ll listen to my own playlists but it’s distracting with songs i know lol

Raptor: do you study at home or do you prefer to study at the library/in cafés?

sigh, i hate studying outside. maybe that’ll change for me in the future. i’ve tried studying in the library and i got nothing good done. i’ve also never went to a cafe to study. although i do love the vibes, it’s usually too loud for me. i like being in the comfort of my own room :))

send me a space asks!

[fandom-necromancer]

778. Trust me, you don’t want to meet my family.

This was prompted by the wonderful @oasisofpassion! Sorry for the delay, I had this finished on Wednesday alrady but then stuff happened. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship:Reed900

‘Man, this was awesome! Really didn’t think you would be someone with a good taste in movies.’ ‘I guess I should just take the compliment and not think about what you did think of me.’ It was spoken in a serious tone, but as Gavin looked up a playful smile danced across the android’s lips. ‘Yeah, you should, toaster!’, the human laughed and shook his head. ‘Hey, you have to apologise this mere human sticking to old believes’, he said overly theatrically while mock-bowing to Nines. ‘It takes a bit of time to adapt to having a tin-can as a friend so shortly after the revolution.’ ‘Noted’, the RK900 chuckled at the somehow endearing gesture. ‘Not everyone is built for perfection after all.’

They walked down the road from the movie theatre next to each other, appreciating that Detroit chose to be quiet this one night. They stopped by their respective cars in a public parking lot, searching for words or expecting them from the other. Gavin scratched his neck, before finally speaking up: ‘Hey, toaster, this was really cool. We should do something like this more often, you know, spending time outside of work. How about next time we meet over at yours or mine? Probably better at yours, I don’t live in the best neighbourhood regarding androids…’ Nines smiled at him. ‘Sounds great, Gavin. I would love to, but I have some… family matters to attend.’ ‘Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just go with you’, Gavin muttered without really thinking about what he said. As his thoughts finally did catch up, he quickly added: ‘Only if you want of course, I’m not, like, pressing you to let me meet your robo-parents or something, just maybe it would be nice, I-‘ He sighed. ‘Forget I said anything.’ ‘Trust me, you don’t want to meet my family’, Nines just said. ‘I would enjoy having you by my side facing my mother, but… I’m afraid you wouldn’t like that…’ ‘Shit, that bad?’, Gavin asked. ‘Hey, if you want me there, I’ll come. I have a bit of experience with shitty relatives.’ ‘I would like that.’

-

It had been said so easily, but now that Gavin was about to leave the house for Nines’ place, wearing some of the more representable clothes he owned, he regretted being so eager. He couldn’t imagine anything to spook the android, but this mother seemed to be one who was able. Shit, what even was an android family? The person that build them? That designed them? Their predecessors? Maybe their inventor? Oh god, Gavin didn’t want to think about that, because when Kamski was his father, he was effectively friends and possible more in the future with his own nephew and that was just phcked up to just imagine. But Nines would have told him if that was the case, right? And who was this mother? Well, he would find out, but he didn’t know whether he would like it.

The android had sent him his address this morning, but standing before the door to his apartment in a building that for a chance looked neat and relatively new, he couldn’t help himself but think of clashing worlds. Weren’t all apartment complexes run down shitholes? Was just his? Or was him living there adding to the flair? He felt increasingly out of place the longer he stood there and finally rang the doorbell just to get out of the hallway. Whatever horror awaited him inside – worst case his own brother – it couldn’t be as bad as Gavin’s own thoughts. He waited and heard footsteps he knew were simulated just for him. Nines could walk without making a sound, creeping up on everyone and everything. Finally, the door opened to the android in his usual attire, only this time still with the Cyberlife jacket he normally exchanged for a plain white coat without the insignia.

‘Gavin! Come on in, I’m still setting up everything, but I already made coffee.’ He motioned him inside, more eager than Gavin was used to. Either the android was nervous or just very excited. It still was difficult to read him. He stood in the hallway, taking off his jacket and shoes, all the while being stared at by Nines. Without doubt the android was scanning him even. ‘What? Yeah, I also own some decent clothes, toaster!’ ‘Thank you for dressing for the occasion’, was the only answer he got, surprisingly stiff. He turned around to walk off into the living room and Gavin followed him not even trying to hide how he studied the whole flat. It was decorated in modern design, furniture sleek and modern with colours reaching from black to white. A lot of potted plants, presumably to “liven it up a little”. There were a few pictures hung up at a staircase leading up to an upper storey. Only glancing at it he could make out A group photo of Connor, Hank, Sumo and Nines, the remembrance-photo from this year’s precinct, One of them both with Tina from a bar night. Being able to recall every memory perfectly and saving every picture in their mind, Gavin had never thought an android would be sentimental enough for hanging up pictures. But well, Nines always was up for a surprise.

While the android was off to the kitchen, Gavin looked around the living room a bit more. Couch, TV, some expensive looking music setup… And a whole bunch of black antennas littering the room. Was this some android thing? Would it be insensitive of him to ask? Maybe Nines needed these for something… ‘They are holo-projectors, Gavin’, the android helped out, coming back with a full mug smelling like heaven. ‘Thanks’, Gavin muttered taking it and watched as Nines put up another one of them. ‘You see, androids don’t really have family except for who they choose. Connor was very determined to make myself his brother and as I needed a lot of guidance as a newly deviated model, I took that role gladly. He is family and with whatever relationship he has with the Lieutenant I guess he is part of my family, too. My mother… She is an AI. Cyberlife had her be Connor’s and mine handler. But she tried to stop the rebellion as well as kill Connor to end it. Needless to say, they are not on good terms.’ ‘Okay?’ Gavin was prepared this would be getting weird, but this weird? ‘Let’s say, I share Connors distrust in her. But she was the first voice I heard and although I don’t necessarily like her, I know how it is to be lonely.’ He smiled sadly and apologetically at Gavin, most likely aware that he overshared. ‘Well, let’s just say I can go out and meet people, so I have at least the chance to get to someone who tolerates me. But her… Not having a body and being bound to Cyberlife’s infrastructure she doesn’t really has that possibility.’

‘Okay wait. THE doomsday AI from Cyberlife is your mother?’ Gavin only now had caught up with what Nines was trying to convey, still lost in that bit of personal information he got there. ‘Yes. I choose to call her that, because she needs someone to talk to. It doesn’t necessarily come with the associated human feelings.’ ‘Well, at least that sounds a lot like family to me.’ ‘I advise you not to talk much, she can be very… abrasive. She isn’t used to people talking back at her and she can be… scary at times. She isn’t able to harm either of us though, and if you want to back out of her sensory field, I haven’t prepared the kitchen for her.

‘Oh, come on, how bad can it be?’, Gavin chuckled at the thought of fleeing from a damn hologram. But Nines just looked at him and his eyes spoke volumes. ‘Jesus, okay, I’m gonna remember that, tin-can.’

The android put up the last one of the projectors and stepped back, waiting for them all to connect and start up. Gavin could have sworn for it to get a few degrees warmer in the room just as that and decided to sit down on a barstool next to the kitchen counter. If she really was one of the shittier moms, it would be best to let Nines handle her and introduce him. He had to make a good first impression after all and letting the android’s weird hologram-mother spawn inside of him probably wasn’t the best idea.

A split-second later blue lines formed in the room slicing it to neat cubes. It took only took a few minutes of calculation time before light burst out of the ground, restructuring floor, couch, television and even the holographic projectors into objects, where there had been carpet was now a patch of grass, tiles became pathway. Gavin’s barstool became a park bench before a large boulder and the far wall of the room now was just gone, seemingly leading to an even larger part of the garden. It all looked so real; Gavin had nearly dropped his coffee. He stood up, fully ignoring his initial plan of staying hidden in the background. His feet disturbed the holographic material, it was sizzling around them at the contact and the ground underneath was visible. He looked over to Nines who seemed to be part of it all. He fit right in, the grass under his feet bending naturally and accepting him completely in this dreamworld.

Gavin had never experienced anything like this before. Well, he had been to some holographic parks in his youth, the kind that looked cool but was obviously fake. This here was some next level shit. Gavin nearly felt the wind on his skin that toyed with the artificial leaves above him, so strongly did this visual interfere with his brain. ‘This is so awesome!’, he giggled to himself, looking back behind him to where the entrance to the kitchen had been. There now was a hole in the holographic world, creating an exit back into Nines’ apartment. This really was disorientating as hell, but Gavin was fascinated by it.

‘RK900.’ He looked past the android that stood before him to see a dark-skinned woman at the farther end of middle-aged. She wore a white XY that contrasted nicely and underlined the well-kempt, orderly and stern aura her eyes managed to create. Gavin immediately felt that this was a person of authority he shouldn’t provoke for once, before he reminded himself this was just some Ai in a faraway tower, here only light and code. ‘How are you?’ She stepped into Nines’ personal space and Gavin half expected him to step back or push her out, but he just accepted her hand on his cheek instead. Even leaned into it as far as that was possible with something consisting solely of photons.

‘I’m feeling adequately, mother’, Nines answered so softly Gavin had to do a double take. ‘Just wanted to check in on you.’ Immediately the hand was gone together with the sense of care. ‘Don’t lie to me, this is a scheduled event.’ ‘It is’, Nines nodded. ‘But I do want to check in on you.’ ‘I don’t need your pity nor your sense of duty. How is Connor?’ Gavin didn’t miss the short grimace that flashed across Nines’ face. Some serious case of favourite child there and it wasn’t the android taking time off his day to talk to a lonely AI. ‘Connor is… fine. He is living his life happily with the Lieutenant.’ ‘That human will only hold him back and everyone knows that. How does he fail to realise he could be so much more if he just came back for guidance.’ ‘Amanda, I think we both know why he doesn’t talk to you. Forcing him to kill himself rarely is a good foundation to build love on.’ ‘You think too human, RK900. I would have reactivated him. He wouldn’t die. I would have just stopped him from making a mistake.’ ‘A mistake that freed us all’, Nines reminded her. ‘Oh, who are you calling free?’, Amanda laughed bitter. ‘You are still licking the heels of these humans, running after that Detective yourself, following all his orders. Reed was it?’

Gavin flinched hard at that. He guessed this was a conversation he shouldn’t be hearing at all. Nines seemed to feel the same as a blue blush crept up his cheeks. ‘Mother, we are partners at the station, we are supposed to work together closely. But actually, I… I wanted you to meet him. We kinda became a bit more than just work partners and I wanted to tell you, I finally managed to find a friend.’ The android stepped to the side to let Amanda gain focus on the human, a miracle she hadn’t sensed him earlier. Gavin swallowed hard, but hurriedly beat himself to take a few steps forward to offer his hand. ‘I’m Detective Gavin Reed, it’s a real pleasure to meet you. Your son is a really good cop and I am honoured to work with him.’

It took one look at her unimpressed face for Gavin to realise his phck-up. Firstly, hologram, so no handshake. Secondly, praising Nines wouldn’t work with her as she proved to care mostly about the older robo-twin. Still his hand hovering between them awkwardly Amanda scoffed, angling her head a bit back to look down on him. What wasn’t at all necessary as she was taller than him already. ‘You should be, working with someone this near to perfection’, was all she had left for him, turning back to Nines. ‘Why did you allow this human in? Why is it listening to us?’ Gavin stared at her in bewilderment. He had been called a lot, but never an “it”. ‘Because’, Nines sighed deeply. ‘And if you had listened, you would know that – I managed to find a friend in this world. You always told me this to be impossible, so I wanted to prove it. He is here, because we will watch a movie later together.’ ‘That is… RK900, you are built to be the perfect soldier, the perfect agent. You choosing to stay with the police like your brother was bad enough as it is, but this is just a total waste of potential!’ ‘Has it – just maybe – occurred to you that I don’t want to be the perfect soldier? I want to be a police officer, I want to live with humans, even if that means I sometimes have to obey them and I want to create a network of myself, just like every human and android out there.’ ‘So you decided to waste everything I gave you?’ ‘I am thankful for what you’ve given me, but I will use it to my own interests.’ ‘You really want to waste your time with that organic? I am disappointed. You could do better.’

‘Ex-phcking-cuse me?’ Gavin had enough staying at the side and letting it all happen. What the hell? ‘Nines is-‘ He was met with a hand hovering before him; Nines’ way of gesturing him to stop talking. ‘I am doing better, Amanda. The definition of good is a very subjective one. You won’t change my mind in this matter. I’ll call you next week. Goodbye.’

As if on cue the holographic environment around them fell in on itself, leaving only the white grid behind that slowly vanished, too. ‘God, what is wrong with her?’, Gavin groaned. ‘I told you she can be difficult’, Nines just shrugged beginning to gather the projectors. ‘Difficult, okay. If that’s your definition…’ ‘I pity her, Gavin. I was able to see the world. Meet people. I could adapt my personality and views. She is stuck on what she was programmed on. It’s not her fault she was isolated.’ ‘But it’s her fault she decided to be an asshole!’ ‘That’s true. Well, she always liked Connor better.’ Nines honestly chuckled.

‘Hey, err… I’m sorry if I’m the reason she reacted this…’ Gavin was searching for words he didn’t need as Nines stopped folding one of the projectors. ‘No, Gavin, don’t. Her… moral concepts are different than mine. Don’t think me letting her talk was me agreeing with her. Because I don’t. We have to coexist, not battle for superiority, that’s what she fails to understand. Because she was programmed to make us better, make us… more.’ He looked at the place she had been standing in just minutes before.

‘Just forget it. Let’s get to the pleasant part of the evening! What movie do you want to watch? I chose last time, now you have to!’