#surprisingly...this is not a fully rendered piece

[ghost-t-cryptids]

The mirror knows the real you

[aihoshiino]

how did you get into Oshi no Ko? just by the anime?

I think I might've told this story on Tumblr before but I don't remember to what extent so I'll just retell it from the start: insane as it's going to sound coming from fucking tumblr user ai "oshi no posting" hoshiino, I originally got into the series pretty much when it first started and bounced off it really hard!

I have a surprisingly clear memory of how I first found it, too – it was by total coincidence, I was on Bato reading something else and I saw the volume 1 cover pop up and even on a thumbnail level, it just caught my eye and really intrigued me and I went in totally blind. I tore through that entire first volume over the course of like an hour and came staggering out like... the hell did I just read???

The funny thing is, I accidentally fucking documented my first exposure to the series totally by coincidence, not really expecting it to be something I stuck with but just wanting to share this baffling curiosity with my friends so I can literally tell you down to the date when I first came across it

August 7th, 2020!!!! Like, weeks after volume 1 dropped in Japan, lol. And yes, it is extremely fucking funny to see this three year old post from me talking about not being into the series with my current day Oshi no Brainrotted screenname and pfp. We call that growth, baby!

I won't share the rest of the post because it's basically just me recapping volume 1 to the bafflement and confusion of my friends (some of whom themselves went along to become Oshi no Sickos with me lol) but it is again really funny and jarring to see my past self talk so dismissively about a piece of media that has come to be so deeply important to me, but there are definitely some burgeoning signs of me being an Ai Wife Guy in the future with the way I completely slowed down and so lovingly and tenderly talked about her baggage... you've got a big storm coming, bitch!!!

Like I said up top though, I didn't really click with the series even though I followed the fanscans for a surprisingly long time considering I felt really 'eh' about it. In hindsight, I was going in expecting the series to be completely off the wall crazy, constant twists and turns and status quo fucks and when it pointedly wasn't and was never intended to be that, I got kind of confused. Honestly, I think fucking Shonen Abyss is basically what I was expecting Oshi no Ko to be and it was never intended to be that!

I have another weirdly vivid memory of when I dropped it, too, though I don't remember the date exactly – I do remember the chapter, though and it was chapter 60! I wasn't clicking with Tokyo Blade at all and felt like it was kind of plodding and while I dropped it then, I really distinctly remember that final panel of Akane's all-consuming performance and commenting on the chapter that I felt like the story had gotten really boring and getting my ass absolutely thrashed in the Mangadex comments as a result LOL.

The series kind of faded out of my head after I dropped it and I lightly followed the news of the anime premiere when it was announced but I didn't really think anything else of it until I saw the positive buzz and saw friends I thought would be dismissive of it check episode one out, I went "eh, sure, I'll give it a try"

... Uh, I guess the results speak for themselves...

So while I technically didn't get in via the anime, the anime was really important in getting me invested in it! The anime's rendering of Ai and Rie Takahashi's absolutely godlike performance as her were sort of the extra pieces I needed to make things click in my brain and for me to get into the right headspace to get fully fucking engulfed by the series. It's funny how you really do have no idea what sort of things will end up touching you and how deeply at the end of the day, huh?

[that-1d-blogger]

Plot - a two shot where you marry the love of your life - Liam Payne

My hands shook slightly as Salem carefully pinned the last piece of my elaborately styled updo into place. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep the rising tide of nerves at bay. Today was the day I had dreamed about for years - my wedding day. The day I would finally become Liam's wife. Mrs Payne .

Fucking god

I don’t know how long it had been until Salem kissed my cheek, told me she loved me and ushered everyone and herself out of the room to give me some space .

A sharp rap on the door made me jump.

"You decent, love? Only got two handsome blokes out here looking to escort a bride," Louis' unmistakable voice called out in a cheerful rasp.

"Come in!" I managed to reply, my voice coming out higher than normal.

The door swung open and Louis strolled in with Zayn right behind him, both of them looking devilishly dapper in their immaculately fitted blue suits. Their jaws dropped almost comically when they got their first look at me.

"Bloody hell..." Zayn breathed, running an appreciative eye over my form-fitting white lace gown. "Payno's one jammy bastard, isn't he?"

A wide grin stretched across Louis' face, crinkling the corners of his bright blue eyes. "You're not wrong there, Malik. Although our little blushing bride has rendered me speechless for once."

I felt my cheeks flush ever deeper at their compliments. Zayn gave an exaggerated bow while Louis swept into a courtly gesture.

"My lady, might we have the honor of escorting you to your prince on this most blessed of days?"

Rolling my eyes good-naturedly, I linked arms with the two men who had quickly become like brothers to me over the past few years. I still remembered the first time I met Liam's tight-knit group of friends...

It was a quintessentially dreary London evening, rain lashing against the cafe windows in sheets. I had been freelancing some writing work and stopped in for a coffee break, never anticipating that the curly-haired bloke at the next table would change my life forever. Our eyes met across the dim, crowded shop and something indescribable passed between us. All I knew was that I had to talk to him.

With uncharacteristic boldness, I had scooped up my things and slid into the empty seat across from him before my nerves could fail me.

"This is probably incredibly forward of me..." I began. The stranger's features shifted into an undeniably handsome smirk.

"Forward? From a gorgeous girl like you? I don't mind one bit, love."

We spent the next few hours chatting away like old friends, losing track of time until the barista had not-so-politely informed us that they were closing up shop. I learned that his name was Liam, and those warm brown eyes and crinkly smile tugged at something deep in my soul. When he asked if I wanted to grab dinner sometime, the word "yes" had tumbled from my lips before I even had a chance to think.

We became inseparable after that first date. Liam's positivity, affection and quiet strength grounded me in a way I'd never experienced before. He had an incredibly close-knit group of friends, a bit of a lads' club really, but they welcomed me with wide open arms from day one. When he finally introduced me to Louis, Zayn, Harry and Niall over beers one night at their local, I instantly knew why their friendships all ran so deep.

Louis, with his biting wit, devilishly flirtatious charm and surprisingly soulful warmth...

Zayn, the quieter, more mysterious one but with hidden depths and an incredible loyalty to those closest to him...

Harry, the playful, shameless flirt with the raspy laugh and dimpled smile...

And Niall, forever the sun-bleached golden retriever puppy, ceaselessly positive and silly and kind to the core...

As different as they all were, their bond was palpable. It was like gaining not just a boyfriend, but a whole new wacky chosen family that fully embraced me as one of their own. Stumbling out of the pub well after closing time on that first night, cheeks flushed from too many pints and ribs aching from marathon laughter sessions, I had known there was something profoundly special about this whole crew.

Two years later, and here we were - Liam and I taking the ultimate plunge and sealing our commitment for life. Just the thought of it made my pulse race.

As a child I always wished of that fairy tale wedding with my parents walking me down the aisle , my hundreds of people cheering , but all of that shattered when I lost my parents in a car freak accident , and got stuffed in a orphanage home . So when I asked Louis and Zayn to walk me down the aisle, we all started crying and hugged each other for 30 minutes straight .

I met Salem and Sabrina while interning at Fine line designs, after an awkward run in , we were assigned to a group project and we bonded even after it ended . Sabrina then introduced me to her long time girlfriend and now Fiancée Jasmine, who gives the best advice and is an elder sister to me. We four got pretty close . Salem , Jasmine and Sabrina , aren’t close with the lads as I am but when they get together they mix well.

Well Salem nearly balded Niall once for saying she got wrinkles , and Jasmine broke Liam’s nose accidentally but they mix well….

"Ready, love?" Louis murmured, suddenly looking almost choked up despite his customary bravado. "Last chance to run, you know. Although Tommo might have to chase you down..."

"Don't you start!" I admonished through a watery smile. "I've never been more ready for anything. Besides, you'd only come rescue me from those other bridesmaids out of some knight-in-shining-armor complex."

Zayn barked out one of his distinctively rough laughs. "She's got you pegged there, Tommo. C'mon, let's get this princess to her charming prince before the lads start placing bets."

With Louis and Zayn bracketing me on either side, we headed out into the hallway and made our way toward the main hall where the ceremony would take place. My breath caught in my throat when I heard the first swells of music - this was really it. I was about to walk down the aisle toward Liam and pledge the rest of my life to him.

"Don't worry, I'll be here to hold you up if those knees start shaking too bad," Zayn murmured in my ear with a wry smile. I shot him a grateful look, pulse thundering in my ears.

"And I've got the fainting couch ready just in case," Louis chimed in with a wink. Taking a fortifying breath, I gave them each a playful shove.

"You two are terrible..." I grumbled, but my lips twitched with suppressed mirth. Honestly, I was grateful for their teasing banter and lame jokes. It helped steady my frazzled nerves.

At long last it was time to make our entrance, and the ornate wooden doors swung open before us. A soft gasp escaped me as I got my first glimpse of the resplendent scene awaiting us. Every surface seemed to sparkle and gleam with opulent white florals, crystal drippping from the soaring ceilings in glittering chandeliers. At the end of the long, lavishly decorated aisle stood Liam beside the officiator, hands clasped tightly and practically vibrating with nervous energy.

His entire face lit up like a thousand watt bulb when his eyes finally landed on me. The tender adoration in his expression very nearly buckled my knees, his warm brown eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. Harry and Niall flanked him in sleek black suits, the latter rocking back on his heels in apparent excitement while the dimpled Cheshire Cat grin stretched across Harry's face. I couldn't help but laugh at the cheeky winks they shot my way as Louis and Zayn led me closer and closer down the aisle, the music swelling all around us.

My best friends, Salem , Sabrina and Jasmine standing in navy blue dresses standing beside my side of the alter gave me tearful smiles. Jasmine made inappropriate whoops, as Salem blew kisses with one hand, the other hand cradling Sabrina who smiled widely at me, tears running down her cheeks. Thankgod the makeup was waterproof.

It felt like an absolute dream, this perfect slice of time almost shimmering around the edges with its beauty and poignancy. All too soon though, we reached the end of the aisle. Louis pecked my cheek firmly, sniffing in a distinctly un-smooth way.

"Love you, kid," he murmured gruffly. Zayn pulled me in for a tight hug, dark eyes looking suspiciously bright.

"You've got this," he mouthed, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I squeezed them both back fiercely before taking Liam's outstretched hands, losing myself in the endless warmth of his loving gaze.

"Hi," I mouthed, feeling drunk on happiness and disbelief that this was actually happening.

"Hi yourself," he mouthed back, dimples winking as tears spilled over onto his cheeks. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I felt my own eyes well up at his words, the love blazing between us almost a palpable force. The ceremony itself passed by in a dazed, blissful blur. Liam's vows were incredibly emotional and heartfelt, each vow and promise twining inextricably around my heart as he professed his eternal love and devotion to me. When it was my turn for vows, I had to take a few calming breaths before finding my voice.

The low murmur of the guests faded away as the officiator, a dignified looking man with silvery hair, stepped forward and raised his hands. A hush fell over the room.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this man and this woman in holy matrimony..." his rich baritone rang out.

I felt Liam give my hands a reassuring squeeze as the solemn but joyful words washed over us. My eyes traced over the familiar faces of our nearest and dearest - Louis giving me an over-exaggerated wink and cheesy double thumbs up, Zayn smiling softly beside him, Harry throwing a roguish air kiss in my direction and Niall practically vibrating with poorly contained excitement.

Shaking my head fondly at their antics, I refocused my attention on the officiator as the traditional recitations began. Liam and I turned to face one another, his warm brown eyes shining with so much pure love it nearly took my breath away.

"The couple has prepared their own vows to share with one another," the pastor continued. "Liam, if you would..."

Liam swallowed hard, giving a jerky nod before inhaling deeply. For a moment his eyes flicked over to the groomsmen and I couldn't resist a cheeky aside.

"Don't worry, your mates already told me you've got this," I murmured with a wry smile. A beat passed before Niall gave a badly muffled snort of laughter, making Liam's lips twitch upwards.

"The bride's got a point, Payno. Don't blow it now after all our pep talks!" Louis cackled in a carrying whisper.

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Liam gave me a look of pure adoration before finally starting in on his vows.

"My dearest love...from the moment you boldly plopped yourself down across from me at that cafe and started chatting me up, I knew you were someone incredibly special," he began, voice thick with emotion. "Your warmth, your spirit, your kindness and bravery in the face of everything this crazy life has thrown your way - it all captivated me right from the start. You came into my world during some really dark times, but you were the shining beacon that showed me the way back into the light again."

My own eyes welled up at the raw truth ringing in his words. Liam had been in a very unhealthy place, both mentally and physically, when we first met. The sadness and hurt he carried from past trauma had nearly consumed him. Yet my stubborn refusal to give up on him gradually chipped away at the walls he built up until the beautifully kind, sensitive and strong man I knew was waiting inside emerged once more.

"Our connection was cosmic, fated - something that transcended this earthly plane. You are quite simply the other half of my soul," Liam continued fervently. "Your unshakeable strength, spirit and compassion inspire me every single day. I promise to spend the rest of my life cherishing you, protecting you, lifting you up and supporting your dreams and ambitions. I vow to nurture, respect and care for you always. You have shown me how to live and love again...and I will spend my forever showing you the same in return."

By the time he finished, I had dissolved into a teary mess while the officiator discreetly passed me his handkerchief. Louis openly blew his nose beside me, already having lost the fight against his emotions. Zayn wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders, giving me a subtle "okay" gesture to indicate it was my turn.

Taking a steadying breath, I willed my voice not to shake as I met Liam's reverent gaze.

"Liam, you are the strongest, bravest, most generous person I know," I began, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "I saw glimpses of your beautiful soul that very first day at the cafe, but I don't think even I could have anticipated how immense and profound your capacity for love and healing truly was."

A sly chuckle escaped from Harry's direction, making Liam's brows furrow slightly. Zayn discreetly elbowed the green-eyed flirt before I continued.

"When we met, I had resigned myself to a life of solitude. As an orphan, I never expected to find that elusive place of safety, of true belonging...of home. But you showed me that even those of us who started out alone in this world could create our own extraordinary family through the people we choose to keep close."

I couldn't resist pausing to gesture at Louis, Zayn, Harry and Niall then, all of them straightening up proudly.

"These ridiculous lads you somehow conned into being your best mates are proof enough of that," I teased, successfully Breaking the tension with a ripple of laughter. "Thank you for welcoming me into your wild, weird, wonderful brotherhood from the very beginning and making me feel so cherished. I'll never be able to properly express what that's meant to me..."

Swallowing hard, I locked eyes with Liam once more.

"My love, you are my happy ever after. You are my peace, my joy, my home. I vow to spend the rest of my days showing you the incredible depth of my love and devotion for you. I promise to respect you, cherish you, challenge you and nurture the profound goodness inside of you that makes you so undeniably special. I will celebrate your successes, catch you whenever you fall, and remind you of your unique power and magic whenever you lose sight of it. You have given me a life and love I never could have dreamed of...and I will spend my forever making sure that you never for a single moment doubt how indescribably lucky and grateful I am to now call you my husband."

Liam's breath escaped in a watery rush at the end of my vows, squeezing my hands until our knuckles turned white. Over his shoulder, I saw Niall passing around a wad of tissues, hastily wiping away at his own suspiciously bright eyes.

"And now, the rings, if you please," the pastor's voice carried over the reverent hush that had fallen.

Salem and Louis both stepped forward, those ridiculous matching dimpled smiles plastered on their faces. Tradionally the best man gives the rings over, but of course these four had to put their own spin on it. Harry carefully plucked the simple platinum band from the plush velvet pillow he carried and slipped it into Liam's waiting palm. Louis did the same for me before leaning in entirely too close.

"You hurt him, I hurt you, got it love?" he stage-whispered, winking cheekily to take any sting out of the words before rejoining Zayn and Niall.

It appears Salem made a similar comment to Liam , whose eyes widened and made a visible gulp before nodding immediately. She gave me a cheeky wink as she went back to join Sabrina and Jasmine

She definitely threatened to chop his dick like sausage.

With a rueful chuckle, Liam met my gaze once more, eyes shining.

"Ready to make it official, darling?" he murmured.

"Forever and always," I replied fervently.

We repeated the age-old words after the officiant, sliding the rings onto each other's fingers with hands that somehow weren't quite as steady as we would have liked them to be. Looking up from our joined hands, I was struck by the pure radiance of the joy on Liam's face.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife..." The words triggering a thunderous outbreak of cheers and applause from our assembled loved ones. "You may kiss the bride."

I barely had time to draw a breath before Liam's hands were cupping my waist , twirling me as he crashed his lips fervently against mine. Distantly, I could make out the unmistakable catcalls and whistles from our groomsme- no, our brothers. Liam and I sealed our new beginning as a married couple with that searing, loving kiss, only breaking apart when Louis and Niall's increasingly lascivious hooting and hollering grew too obnoxious to ignore any longer.

Laughter bubbling up from both of us, we turned to face our exuberantly cheering guests - husband and wife at long last. Harry, Louis, Niall and Zayn all surged forward to engulf us both in a tangle of hugs, laughs and playful roughhousing. In that singular moment of joy, I felt so overwhelmingly grateful not just to have found my life partner in Liam, but a whole family of true brothers as well. Bound together by far more than just friendship, the five of us wild, weird souls had created something magical and unbreakable through the inexplicable circumstance of fate and destiny.

-------

Part 2 with a drunk fun party will be uploaded tomorrow!!! It's better i promise

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Mainblog

[halolouhh]

Day 6/90 of practicing artt

My attempt at coloring/rendering I started this yesterday, but I got busy, so I continued this study today. I hadn't colored/ fully rendered anything in a long while so surprisingly this was okay, after doing this I realized I should practice painting in values first I heard that really helps with this process, plus I watched about three tutorials for this one, I needed all the help I could get after not doing this in a while. Also, I found the solution to the back pain sitting with pillows for my back, so this piece was done with less back pain

[gloriesunsung]

Arcane Detail Dive: Shape in the Stone

I will do another long-ass episode analysis post, I promise, but in the meantime, here are some little details from the opening credits that I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time dwelling on.

Spoilers for season 1 of Arcane: League of Legends. Warning for Flashing GIFs below the cut

Edited to fix my stupid typos and added ALT text.

Bless the internet for allowing us to see the various cool alternative concepts for the Arcane opening credits. I will readily admit it took me a minute to love the one that we ended up with instead. A number of different ideas were put forward, but the essential focus in all of them remains the same: meeting our characters up close. Inside about a minute, we need to get a sense of who these people are.

For an animated show with such flash and fluidity of motion, the intro is surprisingly static. We are given these momentary snapshots of our characters in near-stillness, the “camera” doing the motion instead. It’s not totally clear what material these models are made of. At first it looks like it might be stone. But when the light shifts, we can see crosshatching and scrape marks as if someone has lovingly moulded them from clay. No one is immovable, unchangeable; and like any narrative worth its salt, everyone ends the season somewhere different than where they started.

The thing that struck me most — and I didn’t really connect the dots as to why until the end of season 1 — is how differently Powder and Viktor are represented compared to everyone else.

Powder stands back to back with her sister. She is this nebulous stone shape until the camera pans over Vi’s shoulder. Only when the light shifts from pink to blue and Vi’s face is cast in total shadow is Powder’s face rendered clearly, fading slowly into view. Though they are back to back, Powder’s gaze is aimed at Vi. Looking for guidance that never comes. We first meet Powder when she is still in the stages of becoming herself and it is only in the absence of Vi that her personality is formed and solidified, for better or worse. Powder becomes Jinx. Even though the sisters are physically joined, like they are carved from the same piece of whatever, already they are being set apart.

I also really love the little overlay flashes we see, a motif that repeats throughout the series when Jinx is dealing with her inner turmoil. Her relationship with Vi and its breakdown is the thing that most shapes her. One of the textures you can see (for like a whole 2 frames) is a film negative — and how fucking great a visual metaphor is that for Jinx’s maladaptive memory? The more you play a negative (or revisit a memory while in the throes of mental illness), the more distorted it becomes, and eventually it will degrade and become unwatchable. Or at the very least, nothing like it was before. Once the damage is done, it’s done, even if the underlying intent was positive.

Following the quiet stillness of Jayce studying the hex crystal, we next meet Viktor in more rapid fashion.

Like Powder, Viktor begins indistinct. In short, staggered bursts he is chiselled into detail; perhaps one for each arc of the season, each definitive change that shapes him. Discovering hextech, his death sentence and the resulting desperation, his glorious and awful transmutation. I think it’s interesting though that his feet remain part of the stone. The shape of him isn’t fully clear. Viktor undergoes vast changes in season 1, physically and mentally… but of course, he isn’t done yet.

Look at the way the light shifts and passes over him so quickly too. In seconds, we see him in so many different lights in a way no other character is portrayed here. I think it’s a brilliant representation of the speed at which his mind works, of the way he can at turns be both impulsive and considered.

We will come to know Viktor and Jayce as partners, but from the get-go they are painted in opposition. The stillness and blue hues of Jayce’s introduction are abruptly contrasted with the warmer coloured light and speed of Viktor’s. There are so many opposites in these brief glimpses alone. We’re so close up on Jayce we can’t even see his whole face, just his unwavering gaze on the crystal, whereas with Viktor we’re zoomed out and can see the whole picture. And what an indicator that is of the differing perspectives they have. Jayce deals with the thing that’s right in front of him at any given moment and probably dwells too long on the wrong thing; Viktor is a ruminator who thinks big-picture. And what he’s studying in this intro is Jayce’s notebook. Wherever their narratives end up, we know for sure that they will be in some way intertwined.

Unlike all the others in this sequence, Powder and Viktor begin formless. They are the characters who undergo the most significant changes, who have (I would argue) the most harrowing personal journeys to contend with in season 1. They don't arrive with the certainty of, say, Heimerdinger or Mel who both appear solid and sure.

Honourable shout-out to this shot of Caitlyn also. Shifting from the shadows of her privileged ignorance and literally being enlightened by the redness that is often coded with Vi. You love to see it. As with this fresco there is far more depth to Cait than first appears.

I'll be interested to see if and how the intro might change for season 2...

Other editions in this cursed post series: Story of Opposites

[m0rb1dch1ld]

WOW!! WOWOWOWOWOW! SUPER DUPER PROUD HERE!! This piece was another baptism of fire with the mist/fog and the very first time fully rendering/coloring brittle bones nicky!! Surprisingly? He gave me the LEAST amount of issues!!!

So I recently got into rare americans and what was the first song I listened to????  Yep. You guessed it.

I wanted to give him someone to haunt. Who better than Sophie (Girl has been around ghosts for...uh...ever). There's a few stories to this piece, but I am going to have to write them down on a separate post/journal. ENJOY! Deviantart

I do not own Brittle Bones Nicky! Brittle Bones nicky is rightfully owned by Rare Americans!

[tuagonia]

sunflower - mason x f!detective

pairing: mason x f!detective (mia garcia)

Summary: mason thinks about mia at the town’s florist.

rating: T

warning: i think there's like...one swear word.

word count: ~1.7k

note: lol ok since i flopped at getting mason x mia done for the hotwayhaven event.... i have been waiting to write this for a while and the amazing event organisers at @wayhavensummer finally gave me the excuse I was waiting for to fully indulge in this. thanks for hosting and putting in all the great work!! This is for Aug. 18 - Flowers.

--

They remind him of her.

Large and dangling free from her ears; brightly painted papier-mâché “monstrosities”.

That’s the word he’d used to describe them, making no effort to mask his distaste.

Instead, Mia smiled widely in response, reaching up to touch one at its faux-stalks. It stopped that distracting swing, back and forth with every slight movement of her head. Chuckling, and pride lifting her cheery tone, she told Mason she made them herself.

Lemony-yellow, mossy-green, the burnt-chestnut centre.

All crammed together outside of the tiny flower shop. Dozens upon dozens of them staring back at him; yellower under the blaze of the mid-August sun.

A makeshift sign stuffed among the mass of summer-ripe bouquets reads: “TOP QUALITY. Giant Sunnys £14 per bunch”.

Mason is just looking.

He tells himself there’s no harm in just looking.

And anyway, they’re hard to miss under the hot sun. It’s not his fault they’re in the way of his usual patrol route. Quite literally.

Bundles and bundles of large sunflowers, taking up the pavement. Usually, grey and cracked, now overrun with the sight of them. The florist’s quaint store looks like a child’s plaything next to the dramatic assortment.

He has to blink, thinking the sunshine and its heat has started playing tricks on him. It’s almost as if they multiply; little suns with their earthly centres, drawing him closer.

From the moment he rounded the corner to the main square, he never stood a chance against the brilliance of them.

Mason should have kept moving. He doesn’t have time for this— to stop mid-patrol, to idle in front of flowers.

But they remind him of her.

Not just of the — and his lip curls at the memory — weird handmade jewellery.

(A set for every occasion.

Cakes and candles for colleagues’ birthdays, candy canes for Christmas, glittery hearts the size of her fists for Valentine’s Day. Tiny pieces of reflective plastic shedding onto her delicate neck).

They remind him of the sunshiney smiles. The ones she so easily tosses his way, like they’re never any work, like they could never go to waste. Always patient, always bright, always...happy.

And as he glares down at them, he realises they don’t offend him. The observation renders him sceptical, partly convincing himself he’s stopped to figure out why he hasn’t felt repulsed at the overwhelming powdery aroma.

It’s not floral. No. Instead, it reminds him of...reminds him of… Mason racks his brain and frowns accusingly at the vivid flowers opened up at him.

Mason reaches for one, fingers wrapping around its surprisingly sturdy stalk.

He’s still just looking. He just— he just needs to get a closer whiff to figure this out.

Honey. That’s what it is.

Mason’s frown deepens at the realisation. His grip on the flower shifts, the skin of his palm uncomfortable against the fuzzy stem.

Bright and honey-sweet.

(There’s that memory of her kiss, soft and saccharine as powdered-sugar; should make his teeth hurt.)

The crown of gold petals distracts him, fills him with a warm something that he’s more desperate than annoyed to figure out. He can’t place it, can’t place it, can’t place it— wants to know it.

Maybe it’s the frustration of chasing after the unnamable thing that makes him forget the purpose of stopping, the reason why he plucked the flower to begin with.

...so distracted he doesn't hear when the round-cheeked vendor pops their head outside of the shop, all smiles that he feels nothing for (not her like smiles, though. Nothing like her smiles).

They mention the weather and ask if they can be of any help, but Mason’s attention slides back to the sunflower in his fist. But he shakes his head, unconvincingly but he’ll never know.

It’s the heat, he thinks. The arse-end of nowhere town at the tail-end of an unforgiving heatwave.

But just as he’s about to slot the stalk back into its bucket, the vendor stops him— shaking their head emphatically, their grin growing by the second. They sweep of their hands in a take it, take it, please motion, and send Mason off. They shoot him wink from overly-kind eyes.

Like they might be in on some big secret, and Mason will be the last in this entire godforsaken town to know.

There’s no harm in taking the flower, Mason insists, staring down into its dark-brown centre.

He’ll hold onto it until he can find the next rubbish bin, and in the mean time he’ll try not to think about how it reminds him of the dusting of dark freckles across her nose.

(He gets it now. He gets it when he’s with Mia.

He understands — finally — why everyone before her kissed his freckles like they wanted to taste the stars.

Her galaxies, his constellations. Every time they meet, Mason expects a seismic shift to take them asunder.)

His usual strides have shortened, his pace slower than normal, his senses overwhelmed by the true yellow of its petals.

For a moment, Mason forgets all about the patrol and just...walks.

It’s a quiet and lazy summer day. The sun (high and hot) urges residents to stay in the shade, seeks refuge in cool indoors. The streets are empty. Sleepy. So, he takes his time, the crease on his brow deepening with every side street he takes.

It’s hot inside his boots. That’s the only reason he’s leaning against her tin can of a car, outside of the station, holding this ostentatiously large flower.

A quick detour for some shade. That’s all it is. And when there’s a whisper of a breeze, rustling the leaves of the tree above him and the little crown of petals in his hand, it’s all the more cooler.

Mason can hear her colleagues moving in and out of the station, but pays them no mind as time moves on, still staring down at the flower in his grip. It’s far too large to twirl it with sturdy fingers, forcing him to keep studying it and wondering what exactly about it brings Mia to mind.

Lively, but not intense.

(Her laugh, he guesses. Loud and clear, broken up by giggles. The sound of it never jarring.)

A drop of sunlight, buried underground. Persists and blossoms through cracked earth.

(Her kindness, he ascertains. Not to be mistaken for weakness. As easy as she can dole-out radiant smiles, her sharp tongue can just as quickly follow.)

...like he’s been holding a piece of her this entire time.

The taut pull at his cheeks is foreign, and he lets the corners of his mouth drop.

Pointless because Mason hears a familiar drumming, a quick skip he’s grown used to over the last years.

He looks up just in time to watch Mia push through the station’s glass doors. At the top of the steps, she stops to survey the car park, and he feels a flutter in his chest when he realises those brown eyes are searching for him. He confirms it when her gaze lands on him and...that smile (the beating inside his chest is ten-fold) breaks out across her face.

She shields her face with a hand, squinting against the harsh glare of sun bouncing off windshields. With easy, unhurried steps she walks towards him and he drinks in the sight of her.

That scratchy yellow cardigan that’s become synonymous with Detective Garcia is nowhere to be seen. Probably thrown over the back of her office chair and forgotten, along with whatever work she’s been putting off all afternoon.

Dark curls scooped up and away from her neck, gives Mason a great view to the line of her throat and down her naked shoulders. A sage strappy shirt stretches down her small frame, trying its best to keep her cool in the heat...reminds him of the stalk in his hand.

He tenses.

Mia’s eyes flicker to the sunflower he’s holding and her smile (fuck, that smile will be the end of him) grows and grows.

All teeth (white, and...harmless with the dull edges) and she gives an airy chuckle.

“That for me?” she asks with one eyebrow lifting into a curly fringe.

Pushing off the car, Mason musters up his best grimace and fights back the fear fighting its way up his spine. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know why fear is the first thing that possesses him when she stands this close and gestures to the flower with a tilt of her head.

Before he can respond, before he can let his tongue and fear get the better of him— Mia makes for the sunflower in his grip.

Fear tells him this should be a mistake. This memory must be a mistake; one that he’s sure will be the only one to matter in a dizzying spiral of time: Mia smiling down at this sunflower.

The leaves rustle again, and sunlight filters through, dappling the deep brown of her hair.

She makes it easy, never has to wrestle with the feeling for too long before she distracts him. If it’s not a quip, it’ll be an expression that should not be equal parts funny or cute. Spears Mason somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn’t think he’s touched before— doesn’t know if it could ever be before her.

Mia speaks to the flower, a lone fingertip running over its petals. “It’s very pretty.”

Mason watches her stroke the large leaf at the stalk, leaning in nose-first to catch its scent at the centre, eyes fluttering shut. Dark lashes meet her cheeks, and he follows the line of her freckles (darker in the summertime).

He wants to take his time here too, with the same pace as he did those side streets (seeing parts of Wayhaven he would have never traversed without coaxing).

“Yeah…” his voice is rough and unused, studying as she looks up at the way the branches move above them. Sunlight casting down on her, and that easy smile fixed on her lips. “Very pretty.”

[lesbianlotties]

Comfort Food - Dani/Grace - Terminator: Dark Fate

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Terminator (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Grace Harper/Dani Ramos Characters: Dani Ramos, Grace Harper, Sarah Connor, Carl (Terminator) Additional Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Post-Canon, Missing Scene, McDonald's, Fast Food, Comfort Food, Fluff, basically grace survives and they stop by mcdonalds after they escape Words: 2870

The Rev-9 is destroyed. The four of them are barely alive after the fight. The first thing they need is to find a safe place to go.

That's when they step into McDonald's.

Sarah didn’t have time to say it, and she couldn’t exactly remember where she heard it first, but there was something oddly comforting about McDonald’s. That’s not to say she loved the place. A most likely despicable company, sure. But it was just so goddamned… big. It was available in most of the globe, and in every stupid country Sarah found herself in she could turn a corner and there it was, like a fucking mirage. The ridiculous “M”, the lights, the colors, the food, and the bathroom too. They were all mostly the same everywhere. The most childish spot for feeling like stepping into a sort of time loop. Somehow the most appropriate place to stop by after destroying the Rev-9.

The four of them were in various degrees of falling apart, some of them quite literally. “Wait here,” Sarah instructed Carl, not any more gently even after everything. He diligently hung back at the door, missing arm and all, while the three women entered the fast-food restaurant. “You two, sit,” Sarah pointed at one of the tables and confidently walked to the register. Dani and Grace hesitated at the door, but eventually gave in and followed the instructions.

Their little group probably looked beyond suspicious and out of place. They walked a long way until they found this place, and they were still covered in blood, dirt, and ashes. At least Dani’s long hair was the only thing still dripping water. Surprisingly, the employees of McDonald’s barely bat an eyelash at the new clients. It fascinated and worried Grace to think they weren’t the strangest thing these people had seen walk into the establishment in the middle of the night. Thankfully, there weren’t any other patrons.

“Are you alright?” Dani asked, as soon as the two were comfortably seated in one of the booths.

“Hm. Yeah, I think so,” Grace mumbled. She lowered her head, realizing Dani had noticed the way she had ungracefully fallen onto her seat, wincing and bleeding. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m alive.”

Dani’s answer came in a whisper. Her voice was trembling just slightly. This still wasn’t the time and place to think about the events that lead her here. However, this place, the bright lights above her, the clean floors, the smell of food, it was enough of a taste at normalcy to make her feel like she could take a break, like chaos was solved and she had made it out alive, for now. Which was enough, surprisingly. The best part? Seeing the moment that the words she just spoke fully registered in Grace’s mind as well. 

Dani had survived. The Rev-9 didn’t make it through the second explosion they had pushed it into. It was definitely gone. More and possibly worse problems could be waiting for them. But, for now, all that mattered was this, Dani’s little smile from the other side of the table. Dani was alive and Grace had completed her mission, “You know,” Grace started to speak, “I didn’t think…”

“Dig in,” Sarah interrupted them, dropping two trays of food on the table and sitting down beside Dani.

The following seconds were a quick flash of very different approaches to their meals from the three women. Sarah didn’t waste a second to get started on her burger. They needed food to stay alive, they had a chance to eat a warm meal, no time to waste. Dani, on the other hand, took a deep breath then turned her head away from the food. How could they eat after everything that just happened? Her stomach churned just thinking of all the violence she’d had to stomach since the previous days. Then there was Grace. For a second, she frowned at the food. Offended about the interruption, about the way it seemed to upset Dani, and… and then there was the smell of the fries. She took a handful of them, slowly chewed them, and then there was no turning back. She got started on her meal as if her life- as if Dani’s life depended on her eating that burger.

“Let’s get to the point,” Sarah announced after a few bites and a long sip of her drink. “Grace. The terminator was a hundred percent dead, correct?” Her question was met with silence and thumbs up, considering the augment soldier was halfway done with her burger. “And you? Will you live?” She ignored the look Dani her sent her way. Sarah was used to being blunt in worse scenarios, she wasn’t about to change things now. If anything, change within her was barely noticeable. But there was just something uncharacteristically earnest in her tone as she made her question. She cared about the answer, more than she was ready to admit.

They had to wait until Grace was done chewing, but finally, she got her appetite to slow down for a moment enough to give an answer. “There was a lot of damage,” she said, quickly scanning through the systems in her body, a series of unsatisfactory percentages showing up in her vision, but nothing too alarming. “Nothing I can’t fix,” Grace stated with finally, diving right back into her food. This would hold her up for a short while, but she would need to raid a pharmacy soon.

“Good,” Sarah nodded. After a few more moments of eating in silence, she turned toward Dani. “What about you? How, uh, how’re you holding up?”

Dani, almost without noticing, had started to slowly go through her set of fries. Eating them slowly, enjoying the warmth and the distraction. However, instead of answering, she ended up blurting out the first thing on her mind. “How are you so calm right now?”

“It isn’t my first rodeo. Hell, it isn’t even the second time I go through this shit,” Sarah replied, finishing her meal. “No time to dwell on it. We have to move to safety. Plus, we got that monster as a bodyguard waiting outside.” She nodded her head to the window, where they could glance at Carl, calmly waiting outside for them. Dani almost made a comment about Sarah forgetting her promise to destroy him if they managed to survive, but she decided against it. “I’m going to the bathroom,” Sarah continued, “you two finish up, get cleaned up. I’ll get us a phone and a vehicle. Then we need a pharmacy and a safe house. Don’t take too long.”

A moment later, she was done. Up and moving again. Dani was thinking about how much she would have to learn from Sarah, how much she would like to learn from her. Grace was thinking… “Dani,” she whispered, “Do you think I could get another one of these?”

“You can have mine,” Dani chuckled. She pushed the burger toward Grace. After taking notice of Grace’s frown and already knowing that was a sign for an upcoming speech about her protection and importance, she added, “Please, Grace. I can’t stomach it right now.”

Grace was reassured by the fact that Dani at least was steadily eating her fries. Encouraged by her deep hunger, she accepted the burger. “Thank you,” she smiled. After taking the first bite she made a sound of appreciation. If her attention wasn’t all taken by Dani and her meal, she would have attempted to think about how profundly human she felt. It was a comfort to eat this incredibly ordinary food and pretend everything was perfectly normal about her, her life, and the world around her.

“What were you going to say,” Dani asked her without preamble, “before the food arrived?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Grace shook her head softly.

It wasn’t convincing in the slightest. Even less so to Dani, whose stubbornness could easily match Sarah’s and Grace’s. But then again, there was something mesmerizing, comforting, but also so simple and easy about watching Grace have the time of her life eating ridiculous McDonald’s food. It rendered Dani speechless. It got her thinking a little. About the way Grace had gone through so many years without these simple pleasures. About the way Grace’s body worked differently, but the bigger part of her was always so endearingly human. About Grace in general, fascinating even under the worst conditions. Done with what little food she could tolerate and soothed by the space and the company around her, Dani allowed herself to close her eyes for just one moment…

“Dani… Dani?”

Grace’s voice eased her out of that unlikely sleep she had fallen into. The soldier sounded concerned enough to still sound like Grace. But it was undeniable the hint of amusement and fondness in her tone. Was she used to waking up her Commander from accidental naps like that? Was that a spark of jealousy that Dani was feeling for her own self of the future?

“Sorry,” she attempted an awkward laugh. “Let’s stop by the bathroom. We don’t want Sarah causing a scene because we’re taking too long.”

“Take your time,” Grace said. Her words were soft, her frown was unforgiving. The fondness between her and Sarah was reciprocated, but still complicated. Grace wouldn’t hesitate to stand her ground against anyone that tried to disturb Dani’s brief moments of peace.

The bathroom was another unlikely little piece of heaven. It was clean, empty, functional, quiet. Most importantly, it looked like Sarah had acquired a first aid kit from the employees and left it behind for the two of them. What followed was a slow and steady process of dealing with the most pressing issues both of them had. First, a visit to the toilet, sure. Then, washing faces, hands, and arms. Grace wet her hair, and was almost completely unaware of Dani's appreciative stares at the whole process. They didn’t have a lot to work with, and there were a lot of bandages and healing in their near future. But, at the very least, they had a small bottle of alcohol, and they did what they could with it.

Cut clean and bodies slightly refreshed, Dani had time to openly stare at Grace. “You’re incredible,” she sighed. She hadn’t meant to just blurt it out, but at the same time she couldn’t figure out a reason not to. Grace turned to look at her with genuine wonder in her eyes. “It already looks better,” Dani added, pointing at the wound on Grace’s neck. Back at the dam, it had looked beyond deadly. It would have been, to anyone who wasn’t an augmented soldier, apparently. Now the wound appeared to be closed, at least. Though there was still a long road of healing ahead.

“See? I still got it,” Grace replied. Technically, the smile she wore at that moment was small. But it was so… new, to Dani, that she found it to be the brightest most beautiful thing in the world. For a moment she felt like the luckiest person on Earth knowing that now she would have time to really get to know Grace, her sense of humor, her personality beyond being a soldier, all of her. She didn’t even have time to think about all the upcoming smiles from Grace that would soon come to lovingly blind her. For an instant, Dani opened her mouth to reply, but then she closed it and turned away to stare at the mirror again. “What?” Grace gently prompted her.

Dani took a deep breath, and started washing her hands again, quite unnecessarily too, but it was better than staring at the other woman as she said, “It’s just that… not running for our lives? Looks good on you.”

Grace stayed silent. She took her time processing the information. The look on her face was complicated. A small arch in her eyebrows showed she was at least a little impressed by the compliment. Then there was that absolutely gorgeous pair of expressive blue eyes. They were delighted, caught off guard, for sure, and very appreciative for Dani’s matching ease, the first time she saw her relaxed and awake since they met. But there was an unmistakable hint of grief, nostalgia for something impossible to recover, even if what was in front of her was just as good.

Dani took the opportunity to ask something that she hasn’t been able to shake off her mind. “What were you going to say,” she slowly asked Grace a second time, “before the food arrived?”

The expression on Grace’s face instantly dimmed, but she didn’t look too bothered about it either. “I just didn’t think I would survive this far,” she gave a small shrug, “that’s all.”

That’s all, she said. As if that wasn’t a pretty significant thing, Dani thought. “I can’t imagine,” Dani frowned and spoke in whispers, while Grace tilted her head and listened intently. “I can’t imagine… ever, you know, being the person that gives the order to send you, Grace, in a suicide mission.”

“It’s not like that,” Grace shook her head softly. She was leaning against the sink, staring at Dani with all the devotion she couldn’t seem to shake off her eyes whenever they locked eyes. “I volunteered,” Grace said, “I, you and I, we both knew I’d be the best one to protect you.”

“Why is that?” Dani asked, considerably more breathless than she meant to. Then she took a hesitant step forward, and nearly started shaking when Grace mimicked her move.

“Can’t you tell?”

In the back of her mind, Dani was thinking about how she could probably spend the rest of her life analyzing that question, and the way Grace said those three words. She was genuinely asking, she was hopeful, she was afraid, she was sad, she was… She was placing a hand on Dani’s cheek. Grace was cradling Dani’s jaw with a delicacy and gentleness that most likely shouldn’t be possible in a soldier like her, wounded, traumatized, transformed, and scarred. But Dani felt like the two of them were standing on top of a cloud, leaning forward, looking up into crystal clear blue eyes…

“A car is here,” Grace announced, sharply turning her head to the right and schooling her expression back into deadly professionalism.

“Righ,” Dani exhaled a heavy sigh, took an extra moment to recover herself, and added, “Let’s go.” Then, without allowing herself to think too hard about it, grabbed Grace’s hand and led her outside. She didn’t look back to see Grace’s reaction to her taking the lead like that, but she could have made a pretty good guess.

Outside McDonald’s, they met Carl. The retired Terminator looked at them with his familiar but stoic stare and said, “I hope your meals were satisfactory.”

“Yeah,” Dani nodded, “Thanks.”

“Is that safe?” Grace asked, nodding toward the car parking a few feet away from them.

“Stay put,” Sarah ordered as an answer.

Carl couldn’t help but take a couple of steps forward, to be closer to the stranger, to protect Sarah if necessary and possibly even against her will.

Hearing Sarah’s curt response, mutual fondness or not, Grace nearly groaned out loud in annoyance. She did tighten her hold on Dani’s hand. Which brought to Dani’s attention the fact that their fingers were still comfortably interlocked and how natural it felt to just continue to hold on.

“Hey, Grace,” she said softly, tugging a little on the hand she was holding.

With her attention back on Dani, Grace instantly relaxed. Irritation vanished from her face, and the pressure of her hand loosened a little too. “Yes?” she asked. Looking at her with that same exact spark of adoration from before. 

“Can I kiss you now?”

First, Grace just smiled at her. It was an honest grin. She genuinely looked elated. Not at all like she had expected this outcome based on experiences from a future that hadn’t happened. She looked overjoyed and relieved as if she was experiencing the completion of a dream she’d had her entire life. 

“Of course,” Grace replied, in the middle of taking a deep breath and exhaling a soft sigh.

Grace stepped closer, Dani placed a hand on the back of her neck, they met in the middle. At first, it felt like a spark, an explosion of all the action, the adrenaline, the terror, and the thrills they had experienced during nearly every second since they met. Then, the feeling melted into a slow and steady flame, it was comfort, relief, triumph, safety. It was an action of complete love, and hope, and the promise of a future together.

A moment of such levels of perfection, of course, could only be interrupted by the loud and tremendously inopportune sound of a car horn.

“Let’s go, lovebirds!” Sarah yelled from the window of the driver’s seat. She sounded like her usual self, even if she couldn’t hold back her smirk.

“Please,” Carl added, “excuse her for the interruption. Would you like to have an additional moment of privacy?”

“No, Carl, uh, thanks,” Dani replied, a giggle stuck in her throat. “We’re, um, we’re good. Yeah. Let’s… let’s go.” She could hardly keep her composure, not with Grace standing behind her, arm wrapped around her middle and holding her close, her lips smiling and pressing a kiss on the top of her head.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Hypothetically,

Ao3,   MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Intrulogical, Platonic Logince

It is about! Damn! Time! That I wrote some Intrulogical! Also, y’all already know my stance on platonic logince,,,, guys they ARE best friends i’m sorry I don’t make the rules.

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending). mentions of stuff like autopsies and nuclear explosions in the context of like experiments- they do stuff in The Imagination, basically. Panic attack (?). Hurt/comfort. Pretty heated kissing; It’s more intense makin’ out than I usually write but it isn’t anything explicit at all, don’t worry! ADHD Remus and Autistic Logan. Cursing- like So Much Cursing. Mentions of space, deep sea, etc. Food mention.

Word count: 6,769

There was a conundrum. 

A., Logan needed to use the Imagination. B., He could not use it on his own, considering that he was Logic. C., Roman was nowhere to be found. The answer to what was frustrating Logan at that moment would be all of the above.

To be clear, he didn’t like going into the Imagination. It was simply the only suitable place to perform his ‘experiments’. His very necessary, very distracting experiments. But, as stated, Roman was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. 

Logan sighed at the door, as though it was the inanimate structure’s fault. The cracks gleamed obnoxiously bright, golden light pouring out from behind the door in a somewhat eerie manner. It was a nonsensical, unrealistic, completely insignificant place, and he wanted in.

Logan was contemplating asking Janus for help (lies took imagination, right?) when, out of nowhere, an arm was thrown around his shoulders. Literally an arm, disembodied and oozing sick-smelling blood onto the carpet. Ah. Wonderful. 

“Hello, Remus,” he pulled the appendage from around him, holding it at arm’s length (no pun intended, dammit). 

“Hi!” Remus took his arm back and reattached it with a disturbing crunch, a grin stretching his face. He sidled up to Logan, imitating the side’s stance in front of the door. 

“Can I help you with something?” the logical trait tilted his shoulder away from where Remus had pressed against him. 

“Not unless you’re willing to get really messy- but I can help you!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re implying.”

The Duke rolled his eyes, promptly flinging the door to The Imagination open. An encompassing energy radiated into the common room, corrupting the usual neutrality of the space. It didn't last long before Remus grabbed Logan’s wrist and dragged him along through the entryway, movements as sporadic and fast-paced as everything else about the creative.

“It’s not very logical to just stand there staring at the door all day, in my opinion. I dunno what you need Imagination for, but whatever it is, I can help! My half is much more interesting, anyway.”

“Oh,” Logan blinked, narrowly ducking his head under a branch as he was pulled forward, “Thank you, I suppose.”

He politely didn’t mention that he doubted Remus’ capacity for helpfulness. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. 

The door from the commons was quite a walk from the darker half of The Imagination, but at the pace its owner had them going they were there in minutes. The border was marked with tangles of densely thorned shrubbery, which parted for them, as if they sensed the approach. Logan just barely avoided snagging his shoe on one as they passed.

There was forest, twisted and shadowy, for only a minute. After that, they were in a city, with tall buildings and winding streets and dark alleys. Another switch, they came into what seemed like an amusement park. Nothing was consistent in theme, and none of the scenes held up for more than a minute or two. Remus shook his head and tisked. With a snap, a good portion of the ever-changing scenery was erased, leaving blank white space. The Duke turned to look at Logan with a satisfied smile. 

“Ta-da! What do you need?” 

Logan blanched for a moment, surprised at Remus’ willingness to completely delete Imaginings without a second thought. It usually took Roman ages to find a spot that he was okay with giving up on for Logan’s “projects”- which he always had thought was a little silly, seeing as he could bring it back when they were done. The change of pace was a pleasant one, though, so there was no need to dawdle for long. 

“I need a miniature fully-functioning model of our solar system. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, totally,” Remus waved his hand and the request appeared suspended in the air, spread out to be the size of a dining table. All was accounted for- sun, moons, eight planets plus pluto- orbiting and spinning around each other. Imagination, by nature, had no real limits, but the detail was still a sight to behold every time. Logic smiled, surveying the set-up, before gesturing to the edge of their blank section.

“Thank you for the help, you may go.”

“May I now?” Remus conjured a seat for himself, staring at Logan with his chin resting on his hands, “You’re not even going to tell me what this is for? That’s just rude.”

Logan glanced up from the tiny earth he was inspecting, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“You are welcome to stay, if you wish, but your brother usually leaves at this point. He says my experiments are-” he summons his notebook, “‘Bore-ifying’, which I assume is a portmanteau for ‘boring’ and ‘horrifying’.” 

“Roman’s a big baby!”

Logan shrugged, not disagreeing, and resumed his careful observation of the tiny model earth. Remus made no move to go, wheeling his chair even closer. The scientific side carried on before his new audience of one, hovering a hand over the little planet. Abruptly, it stopped spinning. Logan made a gesture with his hand that magnified the model significantly. 

The results were immediately catastrophic. Logan jotted a few observations down in his notebook, watching closely at the ways torrents of wind ripped up trees and buildings. In the back of his mind, he was faintly impressed by just how well-rendered ‘Dark’ Creativity’s earth was, down to the individual humans, brutalized by the storms. 

“Whoah, what the fuck?!” 

Logan looked up briefly to see Remus craning his head over the destruction of the stilled planet. His eyes were wide and bright with curiosity.

“Oh- I should probably explain. I come here, usually, to run some improbable scenarios as a sort of stress-reliever. Specifically, this one is what would happen if earth stopped spinning on its axis. As you can see, due to the earth no longer rotating at its usual speed, the wind would continue on at-” he cut himself off abruptly, sensing the beginnings of a ramble, “I’m sorry, I’ve been told that I have a tendency to ‘go off’ when a subject particularly interests me.”

Remus rolled his chair even closer, looking much like an excited animal (more so than usual, anyway).

“Well then, go off! Don’t leave me hanging! Is that really what would happen, just if it stopped?” He gestured enthusiastically to the way that the oceans had begun to crash against and consume shorelines. He looked interested- genuinely interested. 

Logan bit back a smile. He didn’t have to be told twice. 

 It was one of those particularly restless nights. For no foreseeable goddamn reason, Logic’s mind had become alight with enough half-formed thoughts and barely sensible ideas to fill a very, very weird book. The Imagination did wonders when he got like this, but it usually wasn’t two in the morning when he needed to use it. That wasn’t to say the circumstance was unheard of, but all times prior he could push the urge to investigate away with the reasoning that he could just ask Roman in the morning, and that the Creative side needed his ‘beauty sleep’, as he called it. There wasn’t anything he could do about that, was there?

Tonight was different. Logan could hear the occasional snap or tear or cackle from the room across from his. Remus’ room. 

It had been less than a week since The Duke let him use the darker half of the Mindpalace, and that was pretty much the only meaningful interaction they’d had in as many days. They weren’t close, Logan wasn’t even sure if they were friends (not that he was a good judge of that, given the first time Roman referred to them as ‘besties’ he had all but cried), but Remus was at the very least an option. He was also unlikely to mind, given that he was already awake and had exhibited excitement previously. 

Logan made up his mind after yet again failing to fall asleep. Quietly, he opened his door and took the few short steps across the hall, raising his fist. Remus’ door was open before his second knock. 

“Oh, hey! What are you doing, coming knocking at this hour?” he didn’t even try to whisper, accompanying his statement with an over-exaggerated wink. Logan didn’t waste his time trying to shush the side. 

“Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-”

“You know I don’t mind your ‘interruptions’, Twunk-y Megamind!”

“-But I was wondering if you would… Help me, again. I seem to be having a hard time getting to sleep, and I think that getting out some of my ideas could help.”

Remus’ face lit up dramatically. 

“Oh hell yes! Are we gonna blow up more planets?”

“Something like that,” he kept his voice monotone, disguising the relief and hint of pride at such a positive reaction. 

“Well, come on!”

Logan let himself be dragged into Remus’ room, barely having time to make note of the surprisingly organized layout before he was pulled through a sleek black door. 

“But you have to tell me about it,” he ordered, twisting them through narrow paths in his half of The Imagination. Logan suppressed a smile. 

“If you want to hear it, then I’m happy to.” 

Without warning, they stopped the breakneck pace that Remus moved at. The trait seemed appeased with their surroundings, though as far as Logan could tell it was just another piece of ever-shifting ominous landscape. 

Remus snapped his fingers. The scene remained intact. 

“Sorry,” he glanced around nervously, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Can’t get ‘em out. I’ll get it, I just-”

“It’s no trouble.” 

Logan rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t like using his ‘abilities’ much, as every side had some set of special skills, and all of them were much too ostentatious. But they were helpful, at times. He waved a hand, gesturing carefully so that he didn’t dismantle any more of The Imagination than was absolutely necessary. With a small stutter, the landscape shifted to a blank slate.

When he looked back up, Remus’ expression was not unlike that of a Cheshire cat.

“What was that?”

“I am Logic, therefore it follows that I am the antithesis to any Imagination creations. It’s very easy to erase them with just a bit of rationality.” 

“No clue what a lot of those words meant, but it’s still cool that you can destroy shit.”

Laughing was unbecoming, to say the least, and so the logical trait tended to avoid it at all costs. The snort that escaped him was entirely involuntary. 

If Remus noticed the noise, he said nothing about it. He was too busy bouncing from foot to foot, expectantly waiting for instructions. Logan cleared his throat of the outburst and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple…”

 At his request, Remus would construct immaculately detailed creatures, settings, and models, watching gleefully at the ordeals Logan put each one through. They tested various and progressively elaborate ways to sink populated cruise liners, they simulated the effects of falling from the Empire State Building, dissected approximations of obscure marine animals (a shared special interest of theirs, apparently), and any of the other unrealistic questions that occurred to the typically rational Logic. 

The only way to get such questions from his mind, he’d found out a long time ago, was deconstructing them one step at a time, to see them in their full ridiculousness. 

It was also, he was coming to realize, incredibly fun. 

Before the two knew it, the already late hour had turned unreasonable. Logan blinked owlishly at his watch, distracted from the tiny supernova that he’d created.

“Oh, I must have lost track of time,” four in the morning. Four in the morning! 

“Aw, does that mean we’re done?” Remus whined, yet he still began unmaking his small star system. 

Logan was suddenly very aware of the heaviness of his eyelids and a rubbery feeling in his limbs. God, was he tired. 

“I’m afraid so. I really should’ve gone to sleep hours ago.”

“Fine,” Remus dragged the word out with a groan, “But let me know next time you wanna fuck with space, or deep sea stuff, or anything like that.”

Next time. 

As much as Logan adored Roman, there was something very nice about having the more grim brother help him out with these experiments. For one, his creations were often much more accurate to the real world- likely because gore and destruction were that much more impactful when they were realistic. For two, he actually seemed to enjoy the work. 

Logan’s deliberation was brief. 

“I will.”

 As it happened, the night spent delving into dozens of ideas had purged Logan’s need to use The Imagination, for the time being. Clearly, Remus was not patient enough to wait for him.

He popped up, unannounced, in Logic’s room.

“Lo!!!”

The trait in question fell out of his office chair in a very undignified way. Not that there’s a particularly dignified way to fall out of a chair, but if there was, this definitely wouldn’t have been it. He ‘ate shit’, as the saying goes.

Out of pure embarrassment, Logan made no move to get off the floor.

“Hello, Remus,” he greeted, “How may I help you?”

The Duke laughed raucously, sprawling into the now-unoccupied chair and leaning over him. 

“You’re a riot, Dork,” then, added with glittering eyes, “Did you break anything?”

“No. Given that I am metaphysical, I’m not sure that I have bones.”

“I have bones!”

“Are they your bones?”

“They are bones and they are in my possession, yes.” 

Logan let the subject drop and repeated his first question. 

“Right, I forgot! I have an idea for an experiment!”

Logan thought that, despite his mild humiliation, it would probably benefit the conversation if he wasn’t lying on the ground, so he stopped doing that. Brushing mostly imaginary dust from his clothes, he shot Remus a bemused look.

“That’s nice. But I was asking you why you were here.”

The Duke’s face fell, almost imperceptibly.  

“I thought you’d wanna know, because of what you said last time. Isn’t this, like, a thing we do now? You know how shit works, and I know how to make that shit, and then you can tell me about it!” 

Oh. 

“Remember when you were talking about radiation the other day? You can’t just say stuff like that and then not expect me to want to try it out, so really this is on you. It’d be dumb not to let you in on it.”

Oh. 

He’d been listening to that rant? Moreover, he’d remembered it, and now had his own ideas and follow-up questions about it? 

Logan felt light-headed. 

“You’re probably too busy with work, huh? I guess my explosions don't have to be accurate, if you’re set on being boring,” Remus’ tone was nonchalant, but he was obviously lingering for attention. Logan then remembered that words are a thing, and people use them to communicate.

“No! I mean, yes- I mean, I’m not busy. I can join you, I- I’d like to, even,” the intelligent side heard a small voice in his head, his own miniature Virgil, screaming- what the fuck was that, get it together, Jesus, because he, despite what his fellow sides insisted, was absolutely nonfunctional when trying to form a friendship. 

Remus didn’t seem to notice or care much past his own cheer.

“Cool!” he, yet again, wasted no time in seizing Logan’s arm and yanking him away, “I wanted to see what would happen to animals and plants and stuff bunches of years after lots of radiation! Do you think they’d mutate? Get all twisted and fucked up so that they aren’t even recognizable as, say, a dog?”

Logan considered the question as he was led through the Mindpalace.

“Well, nothing would be able to live there at all. Additionally, anything within a little under a mile of the nuclear fallout- depending on a few variables- would be completely incinerated upon impact.”

“Like, flesh-melting incinerated?” 

“More like vaporized. The fireball would burn 10,000 times the heat of the sun.”

Remus went starry eyed, bringing them to a halt a mere five feet from the door. 

“I wanna see that,” he waved his hands around at their surroundings, “Can you do the white-out thing?” 

Logan, much less hesitant than last time, obliged. A small smile escaped him at the wondrous look on The Duke’s face. It was another form of expression he didn’t particularly care for, but containing his emoting was more trouble than it was worth by now. He couldn’t find it in him to care much either, for once. 

“Where do we start?” Remus prompted.

“You tell me. I will help you make it as accurate as possible, and provide any insight that you want, but it is your idea,” and he wanted to hear more about those ideas. Odd and violent, mesmerizing and clever. There was so much that he wanted to hear about, to talk about, to puzzle out together. 

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone to share such interests with. Maybe, despite how deeply he cared for his ‘family’, as Patton called them- maybe it was never.

Remus chattered as he worked, disrupting the train of thought. Logan almost tuned it out- after all, everyone had grown perfectly used to The Duke’s rambling- but he caught himself. That was hardly how he should treat the side that was so strangely considerate to him, wasn’t it? 

Logan listened from then on. He began to add on to the conversation, corrections and elaborations and actual questions, because he actually didn’t know some of it. He didn’t regret the choice. 

By the end, Remus and Logan were sitting together in the smoldering ruins of their make-believe test town, exchanging notes for different variables they could use in the next trial. They only stopped when Logan was abruptly summoned away by Thomas. He excused himself, a bit apologetic, promising to visit again soon.

As he helped Thomas (with what really should have been a simple task, honestly), Logic wondered briefly about the origins of the hollow feeling that grew in his chest. Something distracted, longing, and unfamiliar. 

And then the oven caught fire, and the only thing he felt was annoyance with the man that he was somehow a component of. 

 So, that was that- Logan and Remus were friends, now spent regular time together, and shared interests. By all accounts, it was a simple and obviously positive development. 

But then there was Roman. 

“What’s wrong with my work? You’d really prefer whatever edgy 12-year-old DeviantArt account nonsense that he thinks up?”

Logan set his book down with a sigh and looked over to his doorway, where Roman stood with his hands on his hips.

“Come in, Roman, and thank you for knocking,” he snarked. The Creative side made a vaguely sassy noise, trotting right in and flopping backwards onto the bed. Without closing the door, the monster.

“I thought that building your Weird Science contraptions was our thing.”

Logan made a show of standing up and manually shutting his door before responding. 

“You don’t like my ‘contraptions’, as you call them.”

“Yeah, but I still made them for you! Because we’re friends, but I suppose you’ve forgotten all about that!” 

He really should have expected the melodrama. And yet, Logan had lived in a delusional world where he didn’t care about the most Extra being on earth.

With an eye roll, Logic dropped down beside Roman on the bed- though he wasn’t half as flamboyant about it. 

“I can have more than one friend.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be your favorite! We’re supposed to hang out together! Do the friendship bracelets I made mean nothing to you?”

He flung his arm across Logan’s chest, a ‘friendship bracelet’ clearly visible on his wrist (a loose usage of the term, given that it was a solid gold band with inlaid sapphires, because of course it was).

Logan held up his arm as well, showing that his (silver with inlaid rubies) was still very much in use, despite his distaste for jewelry.

“We hang out plenty. It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings by spending time with your brother. My reason for doing so is that he seems to take active enjoyment in building and learning about these things with me. He also makes very good conversation, in regards to the more, ah, eccentric experiments.”

Roman tossed his head to the side to watch Logan with narrowed eyes. After a pause, he linked their arms at the elbow. 

“Yeah, you would think that. You’re secretly just as much of a weirdo as him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh please, I can barely keep up with a word that either of you say,” Roman headbutted Logan’s shoulder in what was likely another of his odd displays of affection. He let his head rest there for a minute, a rare instance of peace before he inevitably resumed talking. 

“Anyways-”

“Anyway,” Logan corrected.

“Anyways, if you nerds wanna talk about your weird, creepy experiments, then I guess that’s fine. But he isn’t allowed to co-opt anything else that we do together that we both actually like- no making fun of movies together, no Crofters jams, and no poetry-slash-rap battles.”

“Of course not, Roman. You will always be my favorite person to disagree with.”

“Love you, too,” Creativity bumped him again, then sat up to stretch. Logan snorted a laugh and considered shoving Roman off the bed, watching as he raised his arms up and straightened his back. Before the trait had the chance, unfortunately, his friend was already standing. 

“Leaving already? Weren’t you just going on about spending time together?”

“Nah, that was all I wanted to yell at you about for now. I’ve gotta go help Pat with dinner.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Thanks, I won’t.”

“I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

Halfway out the door, Roman threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Oh, and whatever you two end up doing, do not give me the details. Please.”

Okay, finally, that really was that. Friendship established, blessings given, the end. A simple symbiosis.

Logan was thinking about the practical uses of medieval torture devices? Remus. He wanted to see exactly how long it would take your average healthy adult to succumb to drowning? Remus. Logan wanted to just rant, about anything and everything, his brain moving a mile a minute? Remus. They spent an inordinate amount of time together. 

Occasionally, when he didn’t even have the energy to converse, he would sit down with a book in the commons when he knew Remus was there and let the trait’s never ending word-vomit wash over him. It was an odd sort of intimacy, but that fit within the theme of their dynamic. Like he said, simple symbiosis. 

And that was when the not-very-platonic fondness grew. And Logan, to his own surprise, allowed it to. 

After deep consideration he had seen no reason not to; Remus wouldn’t judge him, not ever. It put a name to the hollow longing that occurred whenever he, eventually, had to get back to work and part from their talks. 

He hadn’t sorted out what to do about the feeling yet, but he felt no urgency. 

Logan’s book lay forgotten in his lap, that morning being one of the quiet ones as he reflected on his unfamiliar emotions. It was almost nice, letting such affection curl up in his chest and settle there.

His contemplation was broken by a sharp jab to his shoulder.

“Are you listening to me?”

He tilted his head at Remus.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?” his eyes lit up, very obviously hoping for it to be something disgusting. Logan glanced away, given that he didn’t even like eye-contact in the best of circumstances. 

“Nothing important. You have my attention now.”

Remus rolled his eyes with a huff, apparently genuinely irritated. 

“Well now I forgot what I was saying.”

“Let’s backtrack: what were you talking about before?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine, we can talk about something else.”

The irritation had grown to something unrecognizable to Logan- frustrating, given how closely he tried to study body language. He felt a stab of guilt as Remus stood up from his spot.

“It probably didn’t matter. I’m gonna go annoy Janus.”

“Oh,” Logan’s voice was small, “Alright, then.”

He was already gone.

That was… concerning. Not to mention bewildering; Remus didn’t just pass up opportunities to talk! He didn’t just leave, not even when he wasn’t wanted! Logan really hadn’t thought his zoning out would earn such a reaction. 

But he was far from perceptive about emotional problems. There was no way to know if it was anything to throw a fit over. For all he knew, it was just an off-day. He couldn’t always expect his friend to be rambunctious and energetic, even if that was a big part of his personality. 

The issue would likely resolve itself.

 The issue did not do that. It did the polar opposite, speeding from mildly concerning to downright frightening at a whiplash-inducing pace.

Remus barely asked questions and almost never offered insight, as he usually did when they spent time together. In fact, his contributions had become rare and unenthusiastic enough that he could have passed as neurotypical, however disturbing the thought was. And that was when they did end up spending time together, which was becoming less and less often, much to the dismay of one significantly smitten smart side.

Something was very clearly wrong with Remus. Not the demented, destructive, mildly endearing and unhinged sort of wrong. It was the wrong sort of wrong.

Logan was hesitant to confront him outright. After a couple weeks of careful consideration, a more subtle solution occurred to him, as he idly flipped through a very graphic murder-mystery late into the night. Something bloody, and awful, and very much Remus’ taste. He set the novel down, knowing full well that his friend would be wide awake as he made his way across the hall.

“Remus?” he knocked at the side’s door, wearing a smile much wider than he usually liked. He was more than willing to express exuberance, if there was even the slightest chance that it would be infectious.

The door decidedly did not fly open. Rather, after a good deal of wrapping at it, Remus slowly pulled it back and poked his head out.

“Oh. Hey.”

Logan didn't dwell on the concern that reaction brought. He had something that would cheer Creativity up, of that he was sure.

“I have a test tonight- it’s going to be very messy,” he began, searching the impulsive trait’s eyes for any signs of interest. There was the slightest glint, but not much more. 

“So, you want me to make stuff for you?” His speech was monotonous. 

“Yes, that was the idea. It’s going to be gory.”

Hardly a reaction. All Remus did was open the door the rest of the way to allow Logan inside. Clearly, he had underestimated just how poorly his friend felt.

“Alright, I’ll set it up for you. Just don’t take too long, I was actually hoping to use my part of the Mindscape today.”

Logan nodded, very taken aback. He couldn’t ignore the slight hurt at the cold, dismissive tone (the irony of that wasn’t lost on him).

They stepped foot into The Imagination and immediately Remus stopped, destroying whatever had been in front of them- which was usually fine, it was just how he operated, but normally out of enthusiasm, not apathy. Maybe this was more than could be fixed with some blood and guts.

“What do you need?”

Logan conjured a tiny notebook, giving a tentative smile. Still, he was giving this plan a shot.

“Operating table,” one appeared before him, sleek metal with rolly legs, “A standard set of surgical tools,” he looked up to gauge Remus’ interest, but his expression still hadn’t changed as he continued to create, “A human corpse, and then we can get started.”

With a wave, a perfectly generic body fell onto the table, but Logan’s attention remained on The Duke.

“Great, have fun, let me know when you’re finished.”

Logan faltered, watching him turn to leave.

“You- you aren’t going to stay and do this with me?”

“You want me to?” Remus crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Logan with a gaze that could (figuratively) wilt flowers.

“I- Yes? If you aren’t at all interested right now, then I can save this experiment for another day?” Yeah, this wasn’t working, but Logan had no backup.

“No, no, don’t wait for me, you’ve already got everything you need, right?”

“I mean- technically, yes, but it- it wouldn’t be the same.”

Remus cackled, sounding quite like the cartoonish villain that he often acted as. It hurt to listen to.

“So that’s what this is about! Let me just fix you up, then!” 

He snapped, and a blank humanoid form appeared at his side. It tilted its faceless head curiously at Logan, who recoiled.

“Not good enough? Is a hunk of nothing too unrealistic for you?” he snapped again, and the being suddenly transformed to match its creator exactly. 

Nearly exactly: it wore an enthusiastic grin, eyes wide and sparkling, rather than the steadily building fire that raged in real-Remus’ eyes. It spoke in a disgustingly cheery tone.

“Wow, tell me more! Show me that again? What happens when you do that? You’re just so interesting, Lo!” 

Remus watched the creation, a look of one part pride and a million parts resentment.

“Is that what you want? It’s just like me, but without any of the hassle of being another person that you have to deal with! And this one, you really can get rid of whenever you want, isn’t that great?”

Logan looked between the two, a fearful understanding creeping up his spine. There was something he was missing here, wasn’t there?

“No,” he muttered, half to the fake-Duke and half to the real one. 

“No?” Remus spat, circling his mirror, “No, of course, you’re so right. This isn’t nearly enough.”

He made an elaborate gesture, and about a dozen more Creativities appeared, surrounding them. Logan stumbled back from them, nearly tripping on the operating table that they’d previously made. When he looked up, the real Remus was approaching him with an expression that fought its way between guilt and indignation. It was all at once heart-wrenching and frightening. 

Logan tried to right himself, tried to look unaffected and certain of himself, as he raised his voice. He would not let this go a step farther, despite his confusion.

“Stop,” and with that, a wave rocked across The Imagination, and all was erased. In the aftermath he stood before a teary-eyed Remus (just the one, though), uncharacteristically looking like a stiff wind would knock him right over.

“What’s wrong? I gave you what you wanted!”

Logan reeled.

“Why would you think I wanted any of that?” 

“You wanted an experiment, I gave you one! You wanted a willing audience, I gave you twelve! But I guess I just get everything wrong, right?”

“You know that isn’t true,” Logan felt choked, his words clumsy. It was foreign and horrible and disgusting, but he’d trudge through it all if it meant fixing whatever he’d done wrong. It couldn’t have just been him losing focus once? Could it? 

“Oh, of course, I do just enough to be useful. So I’ve got that right; I’m a good utensil. Is it so much to ask that people would care about me, not just what I can do?” he posed a rhetorical oozing with vitriol, but it quickly evaporated into something much more desperate, “What if it’s my fault? It was my idea, I wanted to help. I don’t know why I thought you’d care past all that, did I give you a reason to? I can’t remember. It might make more sense that way, if I were the problem, wouldn’t it?”

Logan was running out of time to fix this, watching Remus curl in on himself, barely keeping from falling to the floor. He had no clue how The Duke had reached the conclusion that he didn’t care about him! They spent nearly all their free time together: sitting next to each other just to have the company, throwing each other tricky and often troubling questions to answer, constantly toiling away at things in The Imagination. Sometimes, they didn’t even need to talk, they just worked together in rapt silence; Remus did the creating and Logan arranged his work just so, and- Wait. Wait. Wait.

Logan didn’t need to talk, or touch, for that matter. Perhaps it was a mistake to presume the same for such a needy, affectionate, boisterous side? 

No, not perhaps, it was a huge mistake. A major fuck-up, if you will. 

He’d thought, if the blunt side had needed such comforts, surely he would initiate it? He hardly shied away from anything, except, well. 

Except. Feelings. 

God, he was the dumbest smart person in the world.

“Oh, Remus…”

The Duke’s head jerked up, continuing his back-and-forth of desperation and rage. 

“I don't need your pity!”

Logan sighed, twisting the end of his tie in frustration. 

“That isn't what I'm offering,” he took a breath before continuing, linking the words together so it would come out right. “I'm so sorry, I didn't take into account how you would interpret our interactions. I thought it was obvious that I cared for you, that I didn't need to say it outright. Clearly… I was wrong. So, if you need more than what I previously expressed- which I'm now realizing was very little in the eyes of someone who is not me- then I am happy to provide that for you.” 

Remus was shaken, a good deal of his ire slipping away. Whether that was good or bad remained unclear.

Before it could be overthought, Logan crossed the remaining few feet between them and brought his arms around The Duke in his loose approximation of a hug. The trait froze, but he didn't pull away. 

Physical affection, check. 

“I value your companionship more than I'm entirely sure how to verbalize. You understand me in a way that most others don’t seem to. While your ability to make detailed creations is very helpful, it is hardly the only thing I appreciate about you. 

“For one, you make me laugh. A lot. More than I'm used to. Additionally, you can easily match the pace with which I speak, or change topics! And, you are so much smarter than you make yourself out to be,” Logan finished the spiel with a smile, genuinely proud at his ability to articulate such… sentimental things, with relative ease. Words of affirmation, check.

He snapped back to attention when Remus brought shaking hands up to Logan's chest. For a moment, he worried that Remus would shove him away. The fears dissipated when all he did was bunch the front of Logan's shirt in his hands and hold on tight. 

“Do you mean that,” his volume was low, “Or do you just want me to calm down?”

Logan tightened his grip around him and, following a motion that he'd seen Patton employ many times to great success, he rubbed up and down his back.

“I understand that it might be hard for you to trust me, but I promise I'm not lying to you. I would have to be pretty awful to do something like that, wouldn't I?”

Hesitantly, Remus nodded against his collar. A good sign, but there was one thing left he had to say. 

“And- If you need further convincing- then you should know. I love you.”

Remus stilled. He then unfisted his hands from Logan's shirt. It was an anticipatory second before he threw his arms around the logical trait and finally returned the hug. His hold was crushing, and it was the most comforting thing that Logan had ever felt. 

They were okay.

“I'm sorry I-” 

Logan didn’t let him finish the apology. 

“Don't be. You didn't know how I felt, because I hadn't communicated it in a way you understood. That is hardly your fault.”

Remus nodded again, remaining much quieter than he’d probably ever been in his entire existence.

They held each other for longer than either would like to admit, speaking softly. 

“Thanks,” was muttered against Logan’s shoulder. 

“Of course. Just so you know, I'm more than willing to do this again whenever you need reassurance.”

“It might be a lot,” his tone was turning more mischievous, more him, “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Absolutely.”

Logan hardly minded having an opportunity to gush about Remus to Remus. Not to mention, the physical affection was even nicer than he'd imagined it being. And oh, had he imagined it. 

Remus' face returned to his usual ever-present zeal, and he ended their hug to bounce in place. 

“Great! I'm good now! We can get on with that autopsy you wanted to show me- there better be buckets of blood!”

Logan shifted his weight. 

“Maybe we should save that for another day.”

“Oh,” Remus' face fell the smallest bit, “Okay.”

Logan was quick to amend:

“By that I mean, I have something better in mind.”

 Remus curled himself up in Logan’s lap, his eyes barely focused on the TV as the side carded his hands through his tangled mop of hair. Final Destination 3 played on the television (he had assured Logan that they didn't need to see the first two, and he was mostly right), serving as an excuse for the two to drink in each other's company. 

It was right in the middle of a particularly graphic rollercoaster scene that Remus took Logan's hands from his hair to hold them, twisting around to face him.

“Is something wrong, Remus?”

“You told me you loved me,” he stated blankly. 

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn't say it back!”

“No, you didn't,” it hadn't been the most important matter at the time, really. “You don't have to say it. It's perfectly okay if you don't feel the s- Mmph!”

Remus smashed their lips together, holding the sides of Logan's face (disrupting his glasses in the process) and pulling him forward harshly. 

Logan, for less than a second, was floored. And then Remus tilted his head to deepen the already heated kiss, and the situation properly clicked. Logan reciprocated, slightly uncertain in his movements, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. 

Remus smiled against him. He nipped at Logan's lower lip with sharpened teeth, eliciting a very embarrassing yelp. Logic let his lips part in response as his thoughts grew fuzzier by the second. 

The (somewhat clumsy) open-mouthed kiss lasted right until they absolutely had to break, separating for air. Neither moved very far, letting their foreheads rest against each other and all but panting for breath.

“I love you so fuckin' much, nerd,” when Remus spoke, their lips brushed ever so slightly, “Just so you know.”

“I picked up on that, yes.” 

“A little clarity never hurts, right?”

Logan chuckled at the reference to his own sentiments, but the sound was abruptly cut off when Remus kissed him properly again. 

When they broke apart, he explained how 'stupid-cute' that laugh was. And Logan, only half-joking (since when did he joke at all?), said that he’d have to do it more often.

Banter came easily to them, despite the raw undercurrent that still laced their conversation. Although, neither of them had ever found it difficult to talk; talk about the first thing that came to mind and the last thing that would come to anyone’s mind, talk about exceedingly simple nonsense and topics so intricate that they wound up sounding like nonsense, just talk.

So things would stay mostly the same. They would ramble to each other when no one else could stand to hear such disturbing things. They would sit, working side by side, running through plans and ideas and results at rapid-paced speech. They’d speak, and they would listen, when even their closest friends couldn’t manage such patience.

Only now, sometimes the rushed words might turn soft. Now, all that ranting might be more substantial than anyone would at first see. Now, they’d still listen, but leaned close together, gazes impossibly fond.

But then, on occasion, they would find that there were things far more fun than talking to do together.

@shrimp-crockpot

[loveactionsspeaklouder]

we belong together - kylian mbappé and julian draxler fanfic

13| Findings

may 2024| london

Molly wondered if she was making the correct decision; it had been two weeks since her emotional conversation with Julian, the season had finally finished, so all the players and staff were on holiday. Molly had taken a quick trip back to London to see her family, realising she needed to have a final conversation with Adam. As part of her healing process, she knew she needed to speak to the people she had been hurting the most, her former boyfriend was the main one.

So, as she stood outside his apartment door, she couldn't help but feel nervous. She watched as he slowly opened the door, a small smile on his face. "Stranger," Adam smiled. He pulled her into a hug and walked with her into his living room. She sat on the couch and rested her hands in her lap. "How've you been Moll?"

Molly gulped and gazed into the blue eyes she once adored staring at. "N-not good," she stuttered, taking a deep breath to control her nerves. She twiddled with the promise ring Julian had bought her for her birthday, grazing her finger over the engraving on the inside. She softly smiled at the words: I love you, Juju. "But I'm trying to get better, that's why I'm here," she continued. "I need to explain and apologise for everything."

Adam nodded, allowing the brunette to continue. He sat next to her on the couch, resting his hand on hers. She lightly grinned at the gesture, closing her eyes before speaking. "I just want you to know that you did nothing wrong. What I did to you was horrible and I would fully understand if you never forgive me," her words left him speechless, unable to move his body. He blinked his eyes a few times, processing the words she was speaking. "I turned into a nasty person and betrayed your kindness. I didn't care that I was hurting you, I didn't care that I was lying to you. I wasn't thinking about anyone, not even myself."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I was hurting," Molly whimpered. Adam wiped a single tear from her cheek and sighed. "I wanted people to feel what I was feeling. I trained myself to switch of my emotions; when I saw the people around me hurting, I enjoyed it. But that isn't right and it's not the person I want to be."

He moved his hands to her face and cupped her cheeks, tenderly placing a kiss to her forehead. "I forgive you Molly," Adam whispered. "You were my first love and you'll always hold a special place in my heart. I hope someday you'll find it in you to love the person you are, because she is special and she deserves all the love in the world."

....

may 2024| maldives

"Okay, I've taken one million photos of you, can we please continue walking?" Molly giggled. She pushed her designer glasses up her nose and stared at Freddie, who rolled his eyes as he grabbed his phone from her hand. The pair were in the Maldives for their after-season holiday; they had arrived a couple of days after her trip to London, which overall was a success. "This view is amazing, I wish we could stay here."

"Now what fun would that be?" Freddie ruffled Molly's hair and playfully winked at her. They walked along the beach until they found a quiet spot to sit in. It was early in the afternoon, so the sun was shining bright. "You haven't told me about your conversation with Adam."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, laying her back on the sand. "Surprisingly well," she started. It had only taken Molly two hours in the Maldives until she revealed what she really had been doing to Freddie; he wasn't shocked, he knew the relationship between the three of them was confusing. "I was just honest with him about everything and he was really understanding."

"Did you tell him about Kylian?"

"No," Molly confirmed. She knew she couldn't reveal the whole truth to Adam, she didn't know if he was still in contact with Rosalie and if he would tell her. From the exchange they had, she realised he had developed real feelings for Kylian's fiancé. "That would make the entire situation worse. I'm sure my conversation with him won't be as successful."

"Have you spoken to him?" Freddie questioned. Before Molly could reply, she felt her phone vibrate. She instantly knew who the caller would be; Kylian had been religiously calling and texting her, every single second of the day. She hadn't responded to any of his messages or calls. She ignored the phone and turned her head back to Freddie, who had his eyebrows raised. "Why don't you just speak to him?"

"Because," she loudly sighed and sat up, running her hands over her face. She was tired of arguing and fighting, she was mentally drained about everything. "I have no idea what to say to him." Molly explained. "I love Julian, I truly do. But there's something in Kylian that I can't let go of. I know it's wrong because of his fiancé and his unborn child, but I can't help it."

She picked her phone up and scrolled through the messages from Kylian, showing them to Freddie. He scanned his eyes through them and exhaled, passing the phone back. She continued to look through them and read each individual message.

Tuesday 09:00am – I miss you so much.

Thursday 15:00pm – Why are you ignoring me? Have I done something wrong? If so, I'm sorry.

Saturday 11:00am – Please talk to me.

"Oh Molly," Freddie chuckled. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his body. She softly giggled and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and played around with his fingers. "Every time we go on holiday, these two boys cause you problems."

"I wish it wasn't so easy to fall in love with me," Molly joked. She winked and nudged her elbow into his chest. She rolled her eyes as she heard her phone vibrate again. "I'm muting this thing," she muttered.

Freddie noticed her expression change when she glanced at the screen. He saw the twinkle in her eyes and the slight smile starting to form on her lips. He immediately knew who was causing this reaction. He knew there was only one person in Molly's life who could get this response out of her. "What did he say?"

She didn't respond straight away, she was still trying to process the message she had just received. It wasn't a long-worded essay or loads of individual messages, it was three words that made Molly's heart flutter with happiness. It was three words that they had said to each other countless times before, but after three weeks of silence, it was the three words she needed to hear. She hadn't spoken to Julian in over three weeks and she still wondered if his heart was still in the same place. How couldn't it be, she thought. You chose Kylian, went to England and then when you returned, he was still there waiting for you. Why do you keep hurting him?

"Earth to Molly," Freddie nudged her arm and laughed. She turned to face him and giggled, realising how long she had been staring at her phone for. "He must have said something spectacular to render you speechless."

"He did," she beamed. "It's so simple, but it means so much," she stood up and brushed of the sand, helping Freddie to his feet. He raised his eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue. She smiled and wrapped an arm around his waist, starting to make the journey back to their hotel. "He said: I love you."

....

may 2024| maldives

Julian knew when she didn't reply to his message he had to go see her. And that is what he did. He flew from his own holiday all the way over to the island Molly was staying on and managed to locate her hotel (He messaged Freddie on Instagram) but as he found himself in front of her door, he was suddenly nervous. What if she didn't reply to me because she doesn't want to see me, he thought. What happens if she's moved on? He shook his head and knocked on the door, he blushed when his eyes finally met hers. "Surprise."

"Julian?" Molly blinked in surprise, instantly pulling him inside and into a hug. He chuckled and kissed the skin on her neck. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," Julian whispered against her skin. He passionately kissed her lips and picked her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved them to the bed. He moved a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled. "You are so beautiful," he traced a finger along her cheek. "I've missed you."

Molly pulled him closer and reconnected their lips, she rolled their bodies over, straddling his waist. To say their sex was amazing would be a mere understatement, every touch brought them closer together. "I've missed you so much," she breathed. This was the first intimate act they had shared in over three weeks; it was full of love, passion and urgency. After they finished, she rested her head on his chest, connecting their eyes. "I realised I never replied to your message," she blushed, grazing a finger over his lip. "I lov..."

"I want to be with you," Julian blurted. "I want to hold you, kiss you, touch you," he continued, almost breathlessly. "I want to call you mine."

Molly exhaled and sat up, running a hand through her hair. "It's what I want, but," she paused, turning to face the German. She grabbed his hands and intertwined their fingers, placing soft kisses to his knuckles. "I still have a few things to sort out first, I don't want to hurt you."

"Why would you hurt me?" Julian questioned. He pulled her closer and used a finger to move her head to face his. He gazed over at Molly's phone seeing Kylian's ID on the screen, he loudly sighed and eyed the brunette. "Do you still love him?"

She pondered the question, realising she truly didn't know the correct answer. She couldn't say yes because she knew she fully loved Julian. But, she couldn't say no either. She didn't know why, but a part of her couldn't dismiss the strong feelings she once had for the Frenchman. Realistically, she couldn't truthfully answer the question. She knew every answer would hurt Julian, but she couldn't lie to him. So, she decided to go with the answer she felt comfortable with and hoped he would understand. "I don't know."

....

a/n: oh my baby molly, why isn’t life easy??? so, hello. i know i said i’ll update soon and i lied (i’m sorry) but today is the day i arrange all my posts for this book, because... it is coming to an end *sobs*

anyway, hope you are all love, love always. speak soon xxxx

[pandemilkbread]

abashed ✩

eyes like sinking ships on waters

ᴛᴏᴅᴏʀᴏᴋɪ sʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ ✩ masterlist

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: It was something that crept up so slowly it left Todoroki unaware, but he thought that was the best kind of love; one so natural you don't even notice.

[ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴏ ᴢ’s ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ sʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs]

warnings: suggestive themes of smut, though only detailed at the last parts. read at your own discretion. not really smutty tho...

author’s note: i promised to upload this earlier, whoops, i apologize. hehe

ⓐ — ᴀʙᴀsʜᴇᴅ

ᴀʙᴀsʜᴇᴅ:

/əˈbaSHt/

adjective

embarrassed, disconcerted, or ashamed.

Warmth.

Warmth was the ray of light shining through the gray-like curtains at the peak of dawn, the heat amassed within the heavy blankets that covered skin, the hotness of pillows from where your touch lingered and left, with all the toss and turning in between; the very definition of warmth described the comfortable heat radiating from the arm wrapped around your stomach like a safeguard—

Cold.

Cold was the sweat dribbling down your forehead in sheer panic, the chilly breeze that encased your body as you quickly ripped the blankets off, the freezing temperature of the tiled floor immediately upon falling on your bare bottom soon after, cold and empty was your mind, connecting the images of what transpired the previous day— or night rather.

All you picked up were bits and pieces: bright lights, booming music, the smell of strong alcohol, a pop of a balloon… ‘Ah, yes.’ You thought, hesitantly. ‘The birthday party.’ Who knew an adult as yourself, who had the alcohol tolerance of a Viking from the late eighth century, could flat out collapse from drinking too much.

And God you wanted to throw up.

Besides wanting to spill out your guts onto the crystal clear floor—you cringed at the thought of whoever was supposed to clean the mess after, if you chose to do so anyway—there was a direr issue to address; which was… knowing where the hell you were, and who you were with.

You slightly inched yourself onto your knees and peered back at the comfortable blue sheets where he laid, fast asleep. Surprisingly, your fumbling did not wake the sleeping man. You assumed as much as you were knocked out from the liquor, he was in a similar state as well.

Sighing, you pulled yourself up only to be met with a painful ache on your upper thighs, forcing you to stumble on your backside. You hissed. ‘What in the world?’ Squinting at the dark splotches on your skin that darted from your lower thighs up until your upper stomach, a small part of you believed there were more sprinkled on your chest and neck. It forced one notion down your thick skull.

First, you were naked. The bareness of your skin provided neither protection from the cold breeze coming from the air conditioner, nor the heat radiating from your cheeks in embarrassment. The pain from earlier, and the bruises that enveloped your skin were two of the many testimonies of your late night endeavor.

You groaned. In truth, you weren’t the type of person to be hooking up with a stranger, no— scratch that, you were never the type of person to be having sex at all, and with a stranger nonetheless. Frankly, the only time you were close to doing the deed was with your boyfriend of a year and a half, whom you broke up with months ago, and it did not end well.

Let’s just say, he had a ‘technical difficulty’ with putting on a simple condom; leaving the touch starved you, furious as he suggested to do it otherwise without it. And the night was cut short. ‘A great night forever encased into my memories.’ You mused.

Back to the crisis at hand, your eyes shifted to the human unconscious on the bed, the sound of small breaths reached your ears. You prompted yourself onto your knees then leaned your upper body on the bed, a small blush dusted your cheeks as you glanced at the man.  

‘Great.’ You breathed. Over 126 million people in Japan and you slept with the one person you’d rather not see again.

Your fingers gently swiped the strands of red hair covering his closed eyes. Breathtaking. Even while asleep he managed to send your heart into a frenzy, and brought shivers down your spine, and reignited the little speck of hope you had left, one you thought had blown out years ago, only to reemerge stronger than ever.

Oh, god, you hated hope.

You propped your chin on the palm of your hand. Sighing, you continued to play around with his hair. A part of you hoped the beautiful stranger, not-so unfamiliar anymore, woke from his slumber— a sort of wakeup call and signal for you to get going. Another, cruel part, wanted him to stay asleep, a somewhat impossible wish; and you wished, you really wished, this was a dream.

If it was one, please, please, please, you wanted to crawl back under the covers, just for a few minutes.

You pinched yourself.

Once, then twice, then thrice.

Maybe seventh times a charm?

You massaged your temples. If it were a dream, you would have awaken by now. Then, you were not in a dream, and this was real. And if it was real… you can afford to be a little selfish. So you sat up from your spot and leaned forward, brushing your lips against the top of his forehead.

“Good morning,” you whispered.

Loud enough to satisfy your wants, but as quiet as the passing breeze, rendering it nonexistent.

You could always shuffle back into the sheets, you know you wanted to; bask in the warmth of the bed, so soft and cozy; pretend reality did not exist, yes, in another life this apartment was your home; and the notion of walking in shame was all fiction, you were abashed.

You sighed, sounding more like a mix of a hiss and a groan.

It was time to go. There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs and the what-could-have-beens. Simply, you are an adult. Yet, the years of being humbled at college, forcibly awoken by the harsh realities of adulthood, and the gruesome jobs at the hospital— could not diminish your fairytale dreams and hopes, by now reverted back into one intense form.

Your high school crush on the one and only, Todoroki Shouto.

Something that had shrunk to the size of a pea, had somewhat grown into a bowling ball, all in the span of ten minutes and by all means, it would continue to grow bigger. You were sure of it. The plausible solution?

Running out while you still had your mind, heart, and spirit intact. Oh, yes. The very same went for your embarrassment and shame: behold, the little youngling had initiated her very first hook-up for all the world to see! ‘Technically anyone awake by seven’ you presumed by looking at the light from outside.

Grabbing your discarded clothes, you walked to a room, closer to a closet than an actual bathroom, and put them on. Now that you were fully dressed, the whole idea of sleeping with your high school crush was unbelievable.

A prank? You rolled your eyes. No one would go that far to prank someone as unimportant as you.

…Would they, though?

Your mind wandered back to the mix of silver and red asleep in the bedroom. Was he the type of person to sleep around with anyone he wanted?

He can, though. You thought. Then again. He did not seem like the type to do so.

You ruffled your hair in front of the mirror, sliding your fingers through your hair in an attempt to smooth out the tangles.

Is it possible? Perhaps you never slept with him in the first place? Maybe, your lower pain was the symptoms of a forthcoming period, or maybe the bruises on your skin were the scars of an epic battle fight sequence in the bar, or maybe the person sleeping on the bed was never Todoroki Shouto and you were delusional.

Putting it that way, the lame excuses sounded more ridiculous than reasonable.

The door opened with a click, and you winced at the sound, your fingers quickly twisted the knob to prevent any more unnecessary noise. Stepping out of the bathroom, you glanced at the person laying on the bed. For someone considered one of the nation’s top heroes, Todoroki slept pretty peacefully while a stranger used his room to her volition.

What if I was a villain, hm? You grumbled. One slit to the throat and you’d be a goner.

The exact moment you thought about assassinating (not that you would actually do it, you were a hospital resident for heaven’s sake!) the peppermint boy stirred in his spot, forcing you to freeze. The blankets shifted downwards to reveal the bare skin of his chest, littered with splotches of dark blue, and you gaped.

His neckline gleamed with love bites, his collar taking the brunt of all the kisses, and the chest area had a trail of kisses all the way down to his lower stomach, where the blanket laid comfortably— ‘did I do that?’ you breathed.

This close, you were this close to pulling all your hair out in frustration. Last night must have been the best night of your life and you couldn’t remember a thing! The whole thing was unfair!

You shook your head. No time to dwell, time to go! And go you must before the object of all your teenage fantasies woke up. Eyes scanned the room for the last item of your possessions, the shoes you wore.

You scoured under the gray sofa to the side of the bed, then softly shifted the blanket on the floor, it was not in the bathroom where you changed, the carpet showed no sign of the footwear, and you remembered really wearing shoes to the party. ‘So, where is it?’

After searching for what seemed like twenty minutes, you plopped down on your knees in front of the bed. ‘Maybe Todoroki knows where it is?’ A stupid suggestion, why would a sleeping man know the location of your shoes? He was not psychic; and if you did not know the place, how on Earth would he know?

But that did not stop you from asking either.

“Good morning, dear. Happen to know where my shoes are?” You joked.

It was barely a whisper, a joke for your ears only; a gag really to soothe yourself during moments of distress. He was not supposed to reply, you weren’t expecting a reaction either, so you slumped. If you could handle three back to back shifts at the hospital without a break, you can handle walking out of this damned apartment without shoes.

By the shine of the bright light outside, and knowing it was a Sunday morning, there should not be a lot people to gawk at your unruly appearance. If you were lucky enough to hail a taxi in three minutes, all before the early joggers on the street gushed about your lack of footwear, you would be safe from the impending embarrassment.

Maybe, you could take a pair of slippers from the apartment? The hero will never know, and if he did, what kind of rich hero would search far and wide for a woman who stole his flip-flops? It was just some slippers! ‘All right, do it!’ You dared.

Just as you were about to stand up, a warm arm reached for your neck— the base of his palm wrapped around the back of your head, compelling your chest to rest on top of the bed. Mismatched eyes of gray and turquoise stared back at you—your stomach jumped, and you gulped, God was it that hot in here?— rather groggily, the corner of his lips smirked.

“Have you tried the shoe rack outside?” Todoroki murmured.

One blink, two blinks, three blinks. You hissed in realization. ‘Of course! Who brings their shoes inside?’ You had to be the dumbest drunk to have ever lived, you weren’t drunk right now per se, but, the alcohol must have done something to your brain. It was strong enough to make you forget simple Japanese customs, you wanted to smack your skull.

Eyes peeping at the man, you diverted your gaze sheepishly, the intense stare he had made you bashful, slightly making your insides churn and almost making you a spluttering mess. You glanced back at Todoroki, and tilted your head.

“W-Were you awake this whole time? I-I thought I saw you move…” You admitted.

He loosened his grip on your neck and rested his palm on your shoulder. “You were not exactly quiet,” he then traced tiny circles on your collar. “Falling off the bed…must have hurt, are you all right?”

Your face swiftly turned three shades darker. ‘He was awake!’ The moment you woke up in shock and slammed your bare ass on the floor, he was awake! ‘Naturally! He’s a god damned hero!’ Obviously, who wouldn’t stir awake from the loud smacking sound, and your cry of pain?

You squinted at the smirk on the corner of his lips. ‘He’s teasing you!’ He was awake this whole time… then, he must have felt your lips on his forehead, and heard the ‘good morning’, and the fumbling for your shoes, and the swipe of your fingers, and you playing with his hair, and everything else!

How was it possible to be this abashed? Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire, oh fuck, it had to do with his stupid little smirk, his stupid intense gaze, his stupid hold on you as if you meant something to him like—like you meant the world to him.

Oh, how your stomach kneaded at the thought.

“I’m… fine.” You snatched his hand and placed it on the bed.

By the way he looked at you, you reasoned out he was waiting for something. Gratitude for the night before sounds way too conceited, he did not seem like a narcissist. An apology for taking too much of his time and space sounded too sad, your heart ached and hearing him jab it with regrets would hurt.

What else was there to remember? God, did you puke into his suit, or clothes, did he want you to pay for his dry cleaning? You cringed, goodbye self-esteem.

“…I’ve never done this thing before, you know?” You spoke. “Ah, I don’t really know what happens the morning after…” Blushing, you pinched your fingers, a nervous habit. “I’ve… I mean… I watch those shows and… I know someone has to walk out after and seeing this isn’t my room, I have to walk out. Yes. Me.”

His face contorted, confused. “Why do you have to walk out?”

The whole purpose of walking out was to signify the end of a session, like you would tell him that. Basically, the room was unfamiliar territory, therefore, not your apartment. Who else would walk out if not you?

“This,” you gestured the room, “is your apartment. Not mine. Why would you walk out of your own apartment?”

“Yes, I know.” Todoroki said, matter-of-factly. “But, why?”

“What do you mean ‘but, why?’ Why? Me… and you… we aren’t even a thing! We just happened to—“ You pointed. “You! This is all your fault! If you just pretended to sleep and continue doing it, we wouldn’t have this awkward exchange in the first place!”

“You asked where your shoes were.”

“I didn’t actually think you were going to reply!”

He pulled himself into a sitting position and stretched his arms. You heard the sound of a crack followed by a soft groan, and his feet perched on the ground, right in front of where you stood. The sleepy man placed his chin on his closed fist, while his elbow laid on the top of his now crossed legs.

Todoroki sighed. “You did not answer the question. Why do you want to leave?”

There were a hundred reasons to leave. He was a top hero, a celebrity in the eyes of his followers, an untouchable God by his multitude of fangirls. You believed it was impossible to stay with someone like him, your ego would not allow it.

A part of you was scared. If you stayed, the chances of talking about what happened increases. Staying meant realizing you really slept with him, and in a way reconfirmed your feelings that you might actually stand a chance. Maybe your feelings were worth it, maybe he would give you a chance, and maybe your impossible love was never impossible at all, maybe—

“It’s— It’s… not proper…” You conceded. “You’re… you! And I’m me! I barely even know you and in all honesty… I don’t really remember what happened last night. I’m sorry, it’s better if we pretend this never happened.”

He paused for a while before answering. “Why? Do you hate it that much? Do you want to talk about it?”

You clenched your hands. It was infuriating how easily his words planted fantasies into your head. The way he phrased the sentence drove an idea down your throat. ‘Did he want you to stay?’

“The thing is… I don’t remember. Do you?” You replied.

“Of course…” He took a quick glance at your face, almost looking for something, before staring back at the curtains. “Are you married?”

‘Married? Married!’ You gaped. You could not begin to comprehend why he asked such a question. Did he think you were running away because you had someone waiting at home for you? Or did he ask because he tied the knot with someone else? God… did you sleep with a married man?

You don’t recall him being married. “No! I don’t have a ring on my finger…”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He added.

Oh, you breathed. Was that the reason why? Was he asking all these things because he felt inclined to know whether the woman he slept with had someone waiting for her at home? He was minimizing the potential of a possible scandal. You sunk at the thought. “Ah, I did… But that was months ago.”

Do all hook ups have these morning questionnaire sessions? Or was this a top hero only session, to reduce the possibility of a hot and spicy front page article on the tabloid? Oh, maybe he felt guilty. You glimpsed at the man, his eyes closed in ponder.

You were never one to snitch, and something like this was a secret that would never leave your lips, until, well… you were six feet down under. You deflated yet again, presuming after his barrage of questions, he would send you out the front door.  

“If it is not because you are married, not because you are taken, not because I did something wrong…” He began. “Then… stay.” His arms wrapped around your waist, while he leaned his forehead on your stomach.

Faint, you were going to faint. You heard it right, didn’t you? He said ‘stay’, not ‘leave and never come back,’ not ‘forget this, go,’ not ‘get away,’ he told you to stay. You died and went to heaven, didn’t you? Was it possible for someone like him to want you? Even if it was just for a moment, you wanted to succumb to the feeling of being loved.

Your face heated up, and your hands unconsciously reached for his head, dragging your fingers slowly between the locks of his hair. “…Are you this touchy with all the girls you sleep with?”

Right off the bat you tested the waters, almost grimacing at the implications. Why you formulated such a simple sentence into something with a double meaning, you never knew.

“No. Just you.”

Great. The issues with double ended questions. What did ‘just you’ mean? Did he sleep with a lot of women, and you were the only one he cuddled with so far? Did it mean something else? You had to pry further, not that it mattered whether he slept with other people.

“So… do you sleep with people this often or…?”

He scowled. “What makes you think I take anyone I see to bed?” Todoroki swiftly twisted you around, facing your back, and pulled your body to his lap. “…Only you.” He mumbled.

Ah, you instantly felt relieved. Though, the reassurance only managed to disorient you even further. What happened at the bar? What conversations happened during the hours of the party? What did you say to make him interested? Was he really interested? Maybe, by the way he was holding you right now, his body language proved he was.

Your stomach stirred at the close contact, pulse racing as he settled one hand on your thigh while the other swaddled your waist. “…Do you really not remember?”

You wanted to recall as well. “I don’t… sorry.”

He sighed in defeat. “All right.”

His breaths caressed the back of your neck, sending goosebumps all over your body. You shook your head and forced yourself to breathe, breathe in, and out, in and out, in and— were you being cuddled by the Todoroki Shouto on his fucking bed, why me? Out of all the women in this world, Japan rather, why would he be wrapping his warm arms around you— breathe out!

Everything was so confusing, so perplexing, so—a prank! ‘Ha ha ha, good job everyone!’ You mused. ‘Time to reveal yourselves, you assholes!’ Your list of ‘bastards who pissed you off for a living’ had hundreds of guys. The idiot from work, the bartender near your apartment, your next door neighbor who played rock music at 3 in the morning, stupid Monoma who fucked around at the hospital.

You sighed. One more time, one more phrase of reassurance. Just one more. And you’ll stop asking.

“Hey, hey… Todoroki?” You nudged him with your head, gently. You heard a soft ‘hm’ and continued. "Are you really Todoroki?”

He paused. “…Shouto.”

“I know who you are,” You hummed, a smile flickering your features. “I mean, is it really you? You’re like this… cool hero. A celebrity, really. And I’m just… sitting on your lap, in your room, in your apartment, wherever this place is.”

His grip tightened on your waist. “Who else would I be?”

“Monoma trying to fuck around and fuck up my feelings.”

“Ah, trust me, princess. I would not let that happen.” His so soft voice, sent shivers down your spine. “…Do you really not remember?”

Knock out! He called you ‘princess’, princess, princessprincessprincess. Such an endearing word for a stranger, oh but you love it so. You took a double take, the word was very familiar. Very familiar. It was difficult to pin point a certain time or place, but…

You pinched his ear. “Why do you keep asking? Was it that good that you can’t stop talking about…?”

“We talked about this right before I took you to bed and you—“

“You know what,” You spluttered. “Never mind! Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

The tips of your own ears tinged red, you could feel the heat. Learning more of what happened last night made you squirm, …it will flow back eventually. You hoped.  Learning about it from the man himself made you embarrassed, super embarrassed. Knowing he was the type to be nonchalant about everything, he might describe the whole night without any reservations.

Feeling braver, you wiggled yourself into a position that had your legs wrapped around his waist and your head rested on the crook of his neck. Cloud nine, you sighed. This is what cloud nine feels like.

You closed your eyes and listened to the beats of his heart, the rhythm pulling you quicker and quicker into the sensation of sleep. As long as the man himself told you to stay, you shall indeed stay, God, you wanted to stay.

Eyes moving under your lids, one memory emerged— and boy did it send your heart tumbling. You yelped in reaction, eyelids immediately snapping open.

“Hm?” Todoroki asked, certainly with a teasing tone. A fraction of smirk was displayed on his lips. He had sort of an inkling of what happened.

“Nothing, nothing.” You deflected, snuggling your head back into the crook of his shoulder, a way to hide your forthcoming blush.

Warmth was his breath on your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbone, as his teeth lightly nipped the base of your throat. Your head blanked at the pleasure, the heat, the excitement— and only he, calling your name pulled you out of your drunken stupor, though the words he muttered afterwards sent you into a crying mess.

“…I love you.”

[tartagilicious]

Hello! May I request a hc for the dangerous fellows boys of an mc who gets into an accident that causes them to lose their eyesight (permanently or temporarily I’ll let you decide). Thanks a bunch! 😊

im the queen of responding to asks 😞 also i chose to just do Ethan, Zion, and Lawrence for this one~

⚠️ tw for blood and severe injuries to the eye

Ethan:

- in this case, I’ll go with temporary blindness!

- you’re partnered up with Ethan on a patrol one night, and suddenly out of nowhere, a bright light on the school front aimed at you suddenly switches on (maybe lawrence wanted to try eliminating Ethan but caught you instead? 👀)

- this happens, and all you can see is dots in your vision. understandably, this scares you as you’re out in the dark and there are zombies around (plus the light attracts them!!) so you immediately yell out for Ethan

- it’s dumb, but the fastest way to get his attention and hopefully get out of there

- thankfully, it does work out that way, and Ethan comes rushing over to you as soon as he hears you. He’s worried to see you standing so unnaturally still, but you only briefly explain before pushing him to end the patrol early

- you still can’t see very well, so when you get to the top of the stairs inside the building, you literally collapse with tears of relief in your eyes. Ethan spends telge next few minutes comforting you until your eyesight is back properly.

Zion:

- god I just fucking realised he calls the mc kid, just like the nickname hawks uses 😩 idk how to feel about that shdhsjsj

- but ~anyway~

- “kid? ____?! what happened?”

- after a night patrol, you encounter some zombies alone, and have a struggle with them that ends up with one of them forcing your blow back onto yourself.

- The pipe in your hands comes barrelling back to you, and lands right on top of one of your closed eyes.

- by the time you escape and run into zion on the top floor of the school, it’s turned into a black eye and is bleeding considerably. you cover it as you see him, not wanting to freak him out. though, when you start crying, it still tips him off that something horrible has happened.

- it hurts badly enough that your tears muffle any words you can manage out, and by the time you actually agree to move your hand that’s covering it, you swear you see Zion’s soul leave his body for a second.

- he’s immediately cradling your face to get a better look, and the look in his eyes is so tender that the pain almost vanishes for a second.

- Zion rushes you back to the main room, and doesn’t listen to anyone around you as he looks for the right supplies to make you more comfortable. This inevitably puts him in a bad mood towards everyone but you.

- he insists that you stay in his room until you heal if you need anything. Scarlett and Lawrence try to veto this, but no one else thinks it’s a bad idea, so it happens

- and eventually, it does heal, but your eyelashes that were ripped out along with the blood that was cleaned never grow back. your eye also doesn’t fully open all of the way — rendering you almost fully blind in that eye.

Lawrence:

- bold of you to assume Lawrence would even let you go blind 🤡

- I’m kidding kind of

- I picture this as happening during his ending, when it’s only just the two of you, and you hurt your eyes by trying to escape. I don’t know the circumstances, but let’s just say something pierces your eyes on accident

- you try to hide it from him as long as you can.

- with the remaining time you can still see, you clean yourself up, and also just don’t respond to why you aren’t opening your eyes. he doesn’t deserve to know anyway.

- he at least assume as much and doesn’t question it more than he needs to. but, it’s kind of hard to hide that you’ve gone blind. muscle memory can only go so far in a new place.

- so, eventually, Lawrence puts the pieces together and confronts you about it, and you have no choice but to admit it — that you think you’ve gone blind.

- surprisingly, as much as I dislike Lawrence, I doubt that this scenario would have him in his yandere personality. I think that he would nicely help you places, and also care for you in a bit more of a gentle way

- ofc that’s not to say he wouldn’t use this to his advantage more. he’d place things in plain sight just to see if you were lying to him, or try and gaslight you into believing that he was your only way to surivive now.

- but as painful as it is, he’s right.

[suncaptor]

HUGE SHOUTOUT TO THE PERSON WHO LEFT AN ESSAY ON BELAJO IN THE COMMENT SECTION OF MY UQUIZ. anyways please click readmore if you want to read something that almost brought me to tears. This person is astounding I'm blown away they’re galaxy braining.

anyway so belajo is something that is actually so special to me because we all saw that weird romance plot the writers tried to force on jo and dean right??? we all saw that and felt icky about it??? moving on, we also know bela was a dean mirror. SO okay the reason dean and jo felt so forced and icky and weird I think (besides the actors having NO romantic chemistry) is because jo is a lesbian. LMAO no but fr fr dean always kinda treated jo like a little sister because he had a little brother and it’s the Eldest Daughter Burden Syndrome in him to do so I think. where dean and bela differ is that bela only raised herself, whereas dean helped raise sam, so bela is used to being dangerous and independent etc. without it affecting anyone but herself MEANING where dean tried to baby jo (because she was a girl ((gotta love early spn))? because she was ellen’s kid? because she was new in the hunting world? idk but he felt responsible for her one way or another) bela wouldn’t. SO BASICALLY belajo would be everything deanjo tried to be. both people rough around the edges, self destructive, but where one has too much freedom and a level of confidence that only looks deep from the surface, the other hardly has ANY freedom (or so she thinks because ellen is protective) and confidence that is honestly kind of unfounded for how new she seemed to be at hunting. jo would obviously be game for all of bela’s ridiculous plans and bela wouldn’t patronize jo, rather give her important roles in the plans she makes. my guess is that jo would run into bela on a hunt and they’d butt heads a little bit because O K they’re both stubborn and snarky but they’d end up having to work together and they’d surprise themselves with how good of a team they were making (they wouldn’t say anything at first about it). at the end of the hunt or whatever jo would be the one to give bela her cell number (“incase you find yourself in deep shit again”) and they’d go on with their lives. bela holds onto the number but doesn’t put it in her phone. she doesn’t call either. the next time they see each other it’s another situation where they just happen to be in the same place at the same time. jo is working on a cursed item hunt or something IDFK and bela wants the item to sell or whatever. they’re at some fancy dinner party and bela’s like “you again? can’t get enough, huh?” or something idk sorry I’m literally typing an essay. ANYWAY they work the case exchanging snarky one liners except this one gets intense and it’s one of those Saved At The Last Minute deals. it’s probably bela that goes “guess we make a pretty good team, huh?” and this time they don’t part ways. they get a hotel room together (“I saved your life TWICE! damn right it’s your treat”) and sleep in separate beds it’s all very normal and whatnot because I am a slut for slow burn and it’s ME who is holding YOU captive and making you read my belajo essay so it goes how I say it goes. anyway when they part ways in the morning bela is all blushy and this time it’s Jo with the snarky flirty remarks. bela finally calls jo one day about three weeks later or something (she still doesn’t make jo a contact, and in fact makes a point of fishing her number out of her purse and typing it in her phone every time she needs to call after that) and they work another case together. they work more and more cases together until they literally are just sharing a car looking at each other and going “what’s next?” bela doesn’t tell jo about her demon deal. she almost forgot about it herself, what with the craze of the cases and adrenaline that having a partner in crime comes with. but she doesn’t forget. and she doesn’t say anything either. jo has fully warmed up to bela at this point, all her snarky remarks now tinged with something of adoration. bela’s even met ellen (who took her in immediately, much to jo’s surprise) and ash (who takes a little longer to warm up to her because bela is bela lmao)! jo’s never felt so alive. and it’s not just the adrenaline—it’s bela, who makes her feel like she’s worth something, who she watched shoot out the tires of some guy’s car because she didn’t like the way he was talking to jo (which normally jo would find possessive but something about the way bela did it made her feel safe), who tells jo one night after celebratory drinks that she’s beautiful, and jo’s stomach flips. because when she talks to bela, bela LISTENS. and bela is funny. and smart—UGH SO SMART. and surprisingly handy with a knife. and maybe just a little bit beautiful too. amazing, jo thinks. bela is amazing. and she says so, too, one evening. they’re planning their next move. it’s sticky and convoluted and seemingly impossible until they make a breakthrough. it’s bela that connects the final piece, and she gets that look on her face that says she’s equal parts bewildered and ecstatic. jo says it then—“you’re amazing—“ and it’s the way she says it that makes bela stop in her tracks. the smile melts off her face and she starts shaking her head. she tells jo about the deal then. she has only what like three months left at this point. jo is PISSED. P I S S E D. she leaves bela crying on the bed in the motel room to go for a walk and cool down. it’s pretty intense lmao. she realizes then that she loves her and that’s a terrible terrible terrible feeling. bela is asleep when she gets back to the room. oh god I’ve gotten to the part where it’s only half rendered in my mind but basically blah blah blah jo has ellen and ash and every other hunter she knows looking high and low for ways to save bela. as her time gets shorter and shorter bela gets more and more impulsive and dangerous (“why not? I’m going to hell anyway! I won’t even be around for the consequences :)”) and jo gets more and more frustrated. they have another fight where jo confesses that she can’t lose bela and bela says something along the lines of “you never had me! I was using you the whole time” or something, you know, like a LIAR, and jo tells bela to fuck off, bonus points for an “I hate you,” you know, liKe a LiAr, and she leaves. little does jo know that that would be the last conversation she has with bela before she’s dragged to hell. and of course, it’s jo that finds her in ribbons, a red and white tapestry of blood against the expensive hotel carpet, underneath the chandelier, eyes blown open and limbs splayed out beside her. she was on her way back from the bar, where she walked to with plans to go home with someone else, drink her worries away, etc I guess lmao but she was too nauseous to even go in so she just circled the block a few times before heading back to their room. she opens the door with shaky hands, blinking away the last of her tears, and fully intending to apologize, take it all back, tell her she loved her. instead, well. you know. anyway so OBVIOUSLY bela comes back. idk how but she does she HAS to because I need a happy or bittersweet ending or whatever but yeah I haven’t even placed the next pieces yet. they change each other for the better obviously too. bela allows herself to be vulnerable and heals through some of her trauma and jo grows as a hunter and strategist, and understands more of what it’s like to be protective over someone. even ellen grows to trust jo more on her own especially with bela, who ellen (who is definitely is NOT someone to dote but) grows more and more fond of. it’s found family. it’s hesitant allies to hesitant friends to best friends to widow to awkward I-can’t-believe-you’re-back-I-don’t-know-what’s-allowed to best friends again to LOVERS awwwwwwwwwww

[grigori77]

2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 1)

30.  BODY CAM – in the face of the ongoing pandemic, viral outbreak cinema has become worryingly prescient of late, but as COVID led to civil unrest in some quarters there were a couple of 2020 films that REALLY seemed to put their finger on the pulse of another particularly shitty zeitgeist.  Admittedly this first one highlights a problem that’s been around for a while now, but it came along at just the right time to gain particularly strong resonance, filtering its message into the most reliable form of allegorical social commentary – horror.  The vengeful ghost trope has become pretty familiar since the Millennium, but by marrying it with the corrupt cop thriller veteran horror screenwriter Nicholas McCarthy (The Pact) has given it a nice fresh spin, and the end result is a real winner.  Mary J. Blige plays troubled LAPD cop Renee Lomito-Smith, back on the beat after an extended hiatus following a particularly harrowing incident, just as fellow officers from her own precinct begin to die violent deaths under mysterious circumstances, and the only clues are weird, haunting camera footage that only Renee and her new partner, rookie Danny Holledge (Paper Towns and Death Note’s Nat Wolff), manage to see before it inexplicable wipes itself.  Something supernatural is stalking the City of Angels at night, and it’s got a serious grudge against local cops as the increasingly disturbing investigation slowly brings an act of horrific police brutality to light, until Renee no longer knows who in her department she can trust.  This is one of the most insidious scare-fests I enjoyed this past year, sophomore director Malik Vitthal (Imperial Dreams) weaving an effective atmosphere of pregnant dread and wire-taut suspense while delivering some impressively hair-raising shocks (the stunning minimart sequence is the film’s undeniable highlight), while the ghostly threat is cleverly thought-out and skilfully brought to “life”.  Blige delivers another top-drawer performance, giving Renee a winning combination of wounded fragility and steely resolve that makes for a particularly compelling hero, while Wolff invests Danny with skittish uncertainty and vulnerability in one of his strongest performances to date, and Dexter star David Zayas brings interesting moral complexity to the role of their put-upon superior, Sergeant Kesper.  In these times of heightened social awareness, when the police’s star has become particularly tarnished as unnecessary force, racial profiling and cover-ups have become major hot-button topics, the power and relevance of this particular slice of horror cinema cannot be denied.

29.  BLOOD QUANTUM – 2020 certainly was a great year for horror (even if most of the high profile stuff did get shunted into 2021), and this compellingly fresh take on the zombie outbreak genre was a strong standout with a killer hook.  Canadian writer-director Jeff Barnaby (Rhymes for Young Ghouls) has always clung close to his Native American roots, and he brings strong social relevance to the intriguing early 80s Canadian setting as a really nasty zombie virus wreaks havoc in the Red Crow Indian Reservation and its neighbouring town.  It soon becomes clear, however, that members of the local tribe are immune to the infection, a revelation with far-reaching consequences as the outbreak rages unchecked and society begins to crumble.  Barnaby pulls off some impressive world-building and creates a compellingly grungy post-apocalyptic vibe as the story progresses, while the zombies themselves are a visceral, scuzzy bunch, and there’s plenty of cracking set-pieces and suitably full-blooded kills to keep the gore-hounds happy, while the horror has real intelligence behind it, the script posing interesting questions and delivering some uncomfortable answers.  The characters, meanwhile, are a well-drawn, complex bunch, no black-and-white saviours among them, any one of them capable of some pretty inhuman horrors when the chips are down, and the cast, an interesting mix of seasoned talent and unknowns, all excel in their roles – Michael Greyeyes (Fear the Walking Dead) and Forrest Goodluck (The Revenant) are the closest things the film has to real heroes, the former a fallible everyman as Traylor, the small-town sheriff who’s just trying to do right by his family, the latter unsure of himself as his son, put-upon teenage father-to-be Joseph; Olivia Scriven, meanwhile is tough but vulnerable as his pregnant white girlfriend Charlie, Stonehorse Lone Goeman is a grizzled badass as tough-as-nails tribal elder Gisigu, and Kiowa Gordon (probably best known for playing a werewolf in the Twilight movies) really goes to the dark side as Joseph’s delinquent half-brother Lysol, while there’s another memorably subtle turn from Dead Man’s Gary Farmer as unpredictable loner Moon.  This was definitely one of the year’s darkest films – largely playing the horror straight, it tightens the screws as the situation grows steadily worse, and almost makes a virtue of wallowing in its hopeless tone – but there’s a fatalistic charm to all the bleakness, even in the downbeat yet tentatively hopeful climax, while it’s hard to deny the ruthless efficiency of the violence on display.  This definitely isn’t a horror movie for everyone, but those with a strong stomach and relatively hard heart will find much to enjoy here.  Jeff Barnaby is definitely gonna be one to watch in the future …

28.  THE MIDNIGHT SKY – Netflix’ big release for the festive season is a surprisingly understated and leisurely affair, a science fiction drama of big ideas which nonetheless doesn’t feel the need to shout about it.  The latest feature in the decidedly eclectic directorial career of actor George Clooney, this adaptation of Good Morning, Midnight, the debut novel of up-and-coming author Lily Brooks-Dalton, favours characterisation and emotion over big thrills and flashy sequences, but it’s certainly not lacking in spectacle, delivering a pleasingly ergonomically-designed view of the near future of space exploration that shares some DNA with The Martian but makes things far more sleek and user-friendly in the process.  Aether, a NASA mission to explore K-23, a newly-discovered, potentially habitable moon of Jupiter, is on its return journey, but is experiencing baffling total communications blackouts from Earth.  This is because a catastrophic global event has rendered life on the planet’s surface all but impossible, killing most of the population and driving the few survivors underground.  K-23’s discoverer, professor Augustine Lofthouse (Clooney), is now alone at a small research post in the extreme cold of the Arctic, one of the only zones left that have not yet been fully effected by the cataclysm, refusing to leave his post after having discovered he’s dying from a serious illness, but before he goes he’s determined to contact the crew of Aether so he can warn them of the conditions down on Earth.  Despite the ticking clock of the plot, Clooney has reigned the pace right in, allowing the story to unspool slowly as we’re introduced to the players who calmly unpack their troubles and work over the various individual crises with calm professionalism – that said, there are a few notable moments of sudden, fretful urgency, and these are executed with a palpable sense of chaotic tension that create interesting and exciting punctuation to the film’s usually stately momentum, reminding us that things could go suddenly, catastrophically wrong for these people at any moment.  Clooney delivers a gloriously understated performance that perfectly grounds the film, while there are equally strong, frequently DAMN POWERFUL turns from a uniformly excellent cast, notably Felicity Jones and David Oyelowo as pregnant astronaut Dr. “Sully” Sullivan and her partner, mission Commander Adewole, and a surprisingly subtle, nuanced performance from newcomer Caoilinn Springall as Iris, a young girl mistakenly left behind at the outpost during the hasty evacuation, with whom Lofthouse develops a deeply affecting bond.  The film has been criticised for its slowness, but I think in this age of BIGGER, LOUDER, MORE this is a refreshingly low-key escape from all the noise, and there’s a beautiful trade-off in the script’s palpable intelligence, strong character work and world-building (then again, the adaptation was by Mark L. Smith, who co-wrote The Revenant), while this is a visually stunning film, Clooney and cinematographer Martin Ruhe (Control, The Keeping Room) weaving an evocative visual tapestry that rewards the soul as much as the eye.  Unapologetically smart, engrossingly played and overflowing with raw, emotional power, this is science fiction cinema at its most cerebral, and another top mark for a somewhat overlooked filmmaking talent which deserves to be considered alongside career highs such as Good Night & Good Luck and The Ides of March.

27.  PALM SPRINGS – the summer’s comedy highlight kind of snuck in under the radar, becoming something of an on-demand secret weapon with all the cinemas closed, and it definitely deserves its swiftly growing cult status.  You certainly can’t believe it’s the feature debut of director Max Barbakow, who shows the kind of sharp-witted, steady-handed control of his craft that’s usually the province of far more experienced talents … then again, much of the credit must surely go to seasoned TV comedy writer Andy Siara (Lodge 49), for whom this has been a real labour of love he’s been tending since his film student days.  Certainly all that care, nurture and attention to detail is up there on the screen, the exceptional script singing its irresistible siren song from the start and providing fertile ground for its promising new director to spread his own creative wings.  The premise may be instantly familiar – playing like a latter-day Saturday Night Live take on Groundhog Day (Siara admits it was a major influence), it follows the misadventures of Sarah (How I Met Your Mother’s Cristin Miliota), the black sheep maid of honour at her sweet little sister Tala’s (Riverdale’s Camila Mendes) wedding to seemingly perfect hunk Abe (the Arrowverse’s Superman, Tyler Hoechlin), as she finds herself repeating the same high-stress day over and over again after becoming trapped in a mysterious cosmic time-loop along with slacker misanthrope Nyles (Brooklyn Nine Nine megastar Andy Samberg), who’s been stuck in this same situation for MUCH longer – but in Barbakow and Siara’s hands it feels fresh and intriguing, and goes in some surprising new directions before the well-worn central premise can outstay its welcome. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the cast are all excellent – Miliota is certainly the pounding emotional heart of the film, effortlessly lovable as she flounders against her lot, then learns to accept the unique possibilities it presents, before finally resolving to find a way out, while Samberg has rarely been THIS GOOD, truly endearing in his sardonic apathy as it becomes clear he’s been here for CENTURIES, and they make an enjoyably fiery couple with snipey chemistry to burn; meanwhile there’s top-notch support from Mendes and Hoechlin, The OC’s Peter Gallagher as Sarah and Tala’s straight-laced father, the ever-reliable Dale Dickey, a thoroughly adorable turn from Jena Freidman and, most notably, a full-blooded scene-stealing performance from the mighty J.K. Simmonds as Roy, Nyles’ nemesis, who he inadvertently trapped in the loop before Sarah and is, understandably, none too happy about it. This really is an absolute laugh-riot, today’s more post-modern sense of humour allowing the central pair (and their occasional enemy) to indulge in far more extreme consequence-free craziness than Bill Murray ever got away with back in the day, but like all the best comedies there’s also a strong emotional foundation under the humour, leading us to really care about these people and what happens to them, while the story throws moments of true heartfelt power at us, particularly in the deeply cathartic climax.  Ultimately this was one of the year’s biggest surprises, a solid gold gem that I can’t recommend enough.

26.  THE LAST DAYS OF AMERICAN CRIME – Body Cam’s fellow heavyweight Zeitgeist fondler is a deeply satirical chunk of speculative dystopian sci-fi clearly intended as a cinematic indictment of Trump’s broken America, but it became far more potent and prescient in these … ahem … troubled times.  Adapted by screenwriter Karl Gadjusek (Oblivion, Stranger Things, The King’s Man) from the graphic novel by Rick Remender and Greg Tocchini for underrated schlock-action cinema director Olivier Megaton (Transporter 3, Colombiana, the last two Taken films), this Netflix original feature seemed like a fun way to kill a cinema-deprived Saturday night in the middle of the First Lockdown, but ultimately proved to have a lot more substance than expected.  It’s powered by an intriguing premise – in a nearly lawless 2024, the US government is one week away from implementing a nationwide synaptic blocker signal called the API (American Peace Initiative) which will prevent the public from being able to commit any kind of crime – and focuses on a strikingly colourful bunch of outlaw antiheroes with an audacious agenda – prodigious Detroit bank robber Bricke (Édgar Ramiréz) is enlisted by Kevin Cash (Funny Games and Hannibal’s Michael Carmen Pitt), a wayward scion of local crime family the Dumois, and his hacker fiancée Shelby Dupree (Material Girl’s Anna Brewster) to pull off what’s destined to be the last great crime in American history, a daring raid on the first night of the signal to steal over a billion dollars from the Motor City’s “money factory” and then escape across the border into Canada.  From this deceptively simple premise a sprawling action epic was born, carried along by a razor sharp, twisty script and Megaton’s typically hyperbolic, showy auteur directing style and significant skill at crafting thrillingly explosive set-pieces, while the cast consistently deliver quality performances.  Ever since Domino, Ramiréz has long been one of those actors I really love to watch, a gruff, quietly intense alpha male whose subtle understatement hides deep reserves of emotional intensity, while Dupree takes a character who could have been a thinly-drawn femme fetale and invests her with strong personal drive and steely resolve, and there’s strong support from Neil Blomkampf regulars Sharlto Copley and Brandon Auret as, respectively, emasculated beat cop Sawyer and brutal Mob enforcer Lonnie French, as well as a nearly unrecognisable Patrick Bergin as local kingpin (and Kevin’s father) Rossi Dumois; the film is roundly stolen, however, by Pitt, a phenomenal actor I’ve always thought we just don’t see enough of, here portraying a spectacularly sleazy, unpredictable force of nature who clearly has his own dark agenda, but whom we ultimately can’t help rooting for even as he stabs us in the back.  This is a cracking film, a dark and dangerous thriller of rare style and compulsive verve that I happily consider to be Megaton’s best film to date BY FAR – needless to say it was a major hit for Netflix when it dropped, clearly resonating with its audience given what’s STILL going on in the real world, and while it may have been roundly panned in reviews I think, like some of the platform’s other glossier Original hits (Bright springs to mind), it’s destined for a major critical reappraisal and inevitable cult status before too long …

25.  BILL & TED FACE THE MUSIC – one of the year’s biggest surprise hits for me was also one I was really nervous about – the original Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and its just-as-good sequel Bogus Journey have been personal favourites for years, pretty much part of my geeky developmental DNA during my youth, two gleefully dorky indulgences that have, against the odds, aged like fine wine for me over the years.  I love Bill and Ted SO MUCH, so like many of the fans I’ve always wanted a third film, but I knew full well how easy it would have been for it to turn out to be a turd (second sequels can be tricky things, and we’ve seen SO MANY fail over the years).  God bless Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves for never giving up on the possibilities, then, and for the original screenwriters, Chris Matheson and Ed Solomon, for writing something that does true justice and pays proper respect to what came before while fully realising how much times have changed in the TWENTY-NINE YEARS that have passed since Wyld Stallyns last graced our screens.  Certainly times have moved on for our irrepressible pair – in spite of their convictions, driven by news from the distant future that their music would unite the world and usher in a new era of peace and prosperity, Bill and Ted have spectacularly failed to achieve what was expected of them, and they’ve grown despondent even though they’re still happily married to the Princesses and now the fathers of two wonderful girls, Billie and Thea (Atypical’s Brigette Lundy-Paine and Ready Or Not’s Samara weaving).  Then an emissary from the future arrives to inform them that if they don’t write the song that unites the world TODAY, the whole of reality will cease to exist.  No pressure, then … it may have been almost three decades, but our boys are BACK in a riotous comedy adventure that delivers on all the promises the franchise ever made before.  Winter and particularly Reeves may have both gone onto other things since, but they step back into their roles with such ease it’s like Bill and Ted have never been away, perfectly realising not only their characters today but also various future incarnations as they resolve to go forward in time to take the song from themselves AFTER they’ve already written it (a most triumphant and fool-proof plan, surely); Lundy-Paine and Weaving, meanwhile, are both absolutely FANTASTIC throughout, creating a pair of wonderfully oddball, eccentric and thoroughly adorable characters who would be PERFECT to carry the franchise forward in the future, while it’s an absolute joy to see William Sadler return as Bogus Journey’s fantastically neurotic incarnation of Death himself, and there are quality supporting turns from Flight of the Conchords’ Kristen Schaal, Anthony Carrigan, Holland Taylor and of course Hal Landon Jr., once again returning as Ted’s grouchy cop father Captain Logan.  The plot is thoroughly bonkers and of course makes no logical sense, but then they’re never meant to in these movies – the whole point is just to have fun and GO WITH IT, and it’s unbelievably easy when the comedy hit rate is THIS HIGH – turns out third time really is the charm for Matheson and Solomon, who genuinely managed a hat trick with the whole trilogy, while there was no better choice of director to usher this into existence than Dean Parisot, the man who brought us Galaxy Quest.  This is the perfect climax to a trilogy we’ve been waiting YEARS to see finally completed, but it’s also shown a perfect way to forge ahead in new and interesting ways with the next generation – altogether, then, this is another most excellent adventure …

24.  TRUE HISTORY OF THE KELLY GANG – Justin Kurzel has been on my directors-to-watch list for a while now, each of his offerings impressing me more than the last (his home-grown Aussie debut, Snowtown, was a low key wallow in Outback nastiness, while his follow up, Macbeth, quickly became one of my favourite Shakespeare flicks, and I seem to be one of the frustrated few who actually genuinely loved his adaptation of Assassin’s Creed, considering it to be one the very best video game movies out there), and his latest is no exception – returning to his native Australia, he’s brought his trademark punky grit and fever-dream edginess to bear in his quest to bring his country’s most famous outlaw to the big screen in a biopic truly worthy of his name. Two actors bring infamous 19th Century bushranger Ned Kelly to life here, and they’re both exceptional – the first half of the film sees newcomer Orlando Schwerdt explode onto the screen as the child Ned, all righteous indignation and fiery stubbornness as he rails against the positions his family’s poverty continually put him in, then George MacKay (Sunshine On Leith, Captain Fantastic) delivers the best performance of his career in the second half, a barely restrained beast as Ned grown, his mercurial turn bringing the man’s inherent unpredictability to the fore.  The Babadook’s Essie Davis, meanwhile, frequently steals the film from both of them as Ellen, the fearsome matriarch of the Kelly clan, and Nicholas Hoult is similarly impressive as Constable Fitzpatrick, Ned’s slimily duplicitous friend/nemesis, while there are quality supporting turns from Charlie Hunnam and Russell Crowe as two of the most important men of Ned’s formative years. In Kurzel’s hands, this account of Australia’s greatest true-life crime saga becomes one of the ultimate marmite movies – its glacial pace, grubby intensity and frequent brutality will turn some viewers off, but fans of more “alternative” cinema will find much to enjoy here.  There’s a blasted beauty to its imagery (this is BY FAR the bleakest the Outback’s ever looked on film), while the screenplay from relative unknown Shaun Grant (adapting Peter Carey’s bestselling novel) is STRONG, delivering rich character development and sublime dialogue, and Kurzel delivers some brilliantly offbeat and inventive action beats in the latter half that are well worth the wait.  Evocative, intense and undeniable, this has just the kind of irreverent punk aesthetic that I’m sure the real life Ned Kelly would have approved of …

23.  MUST MERCY – more true-life cinema, this time presenting an altogether classier account of two idealists’ struggle to overturn horrific racial injustices in Alabama. Writer-director Destin Daniel Cretton (Short Term 12, The Glass Castle) brings heart, passion and honest nobility to the story of fresh-faced young lawyer Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) and his personal crusade to free Walter “Johnny D” McMillan (Jamie Foxx), an African-American man wrongfully sentenced to death for the murder of a white woman.  His only ally is altruistic young paralegal Eva Ansley (Cretton’s regular screen muse Brie Larson), while the opposition arrayed against them is MAMMOTH – not only do they face the cruelly racist might of the Alabama legal system circa 1989, but a corrupt local police force determined to circumvent his efforts at every turn and a thoroughly disinterested prosecutor, Tommy Chapman (Rafe Spall), who’s far too concerned with his own personal political ambitions to be any help.  The cast are uniformly excellent, Jordan and Foxx particularly impressing with career best performances that sear themselves deep into the memory, while there’s a truly harrowing supporting turn from Rob Morgan as Johnny D’s fellow Death Row inmate Herbert, whose own execution date is fast approaching.  This is courtroom drama at its most gripping, Cretton keeping the inherent tension cranked up tight while tugging hard on our heartstrings for maximum effect, and the result is a timely, racially-charged throat-lumper of considerable power and emotional heft that guarantees there won’t be a single dry eye in the house by the time the credits roll.  Further proof, then, that Destin Daniel Cretton is one of those rare talents of his generation – next up is his tour of duty in the MCU with Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings, and while this seems like a strange leftfield turn given his previous track record, I nevertheless have the utmost confidence in him after seeing this …

22.  UNDERWATER – at first glance, this probably seems like a strange choice for the year’s Top 30 – a much-maligned, commercially underperforming glorified B-movie creature-feature headlined by the former star of the Twilight franchise, there’s no way that could POSSIBLY be any good, surely? Well hold your horses, folks, because not only is this very much worth your time and a comprehensive suspension of your low expectations, but I can’t even consider this a guilty pleasure – as far as I’m concerned this is a GENUINELY GREAT FILM, without reservation. The man behind the camera is William Eubank, a director whose career I’ve been following with great interest since his feature debut Love (a decidedly odd but strangely beautiful little space movie) and its more high profile but still unapologetically INDIE follow-up The Signal, and this is the one where he finally delivers wholeheartedly on all that wonderful sci-fi potential.  The plot is deceptively simple – an industrial conglomerate has established an instillation drilling right down to the very bottom of the Marianas Trench, the deepest point in our Earth’s oceans, only for an unknown disaster to leave six survivors from the operation’s permanent crew stranded miles below the surface with very few escape options left – but Eubank and writers Brian Duffield (Spontaneous, Love & Monsters, Jane Got a Gun, Insurgent) and Adam Cozad (The Legend of Tarzan) wring all the possible suspense and fraught, claustrophobic terror out of the premise to deliver a piano wire-tense horror thriller that grips from its sudden start to a wonderfully cathartic climax.  The small but potent cast are all on top form, Vincent Cassel, Jessica Henwick (Netflix’ Iron Fist) and John Gallagher Jr. (Hush, 10 Cloverfield Lane) particularly impressing, and even the decidedly hit-and-miss T.J. Miller delivers a surprisingly likeable turn here, but it’s that Twilight alumnus who REALLY sticks in your memory here – Kristen Stewart’s been doing a pretty good job lately distancing herself from the role that, unfortunately, both made her name and turned her into an object of (very unfair) derision for many years, but in my opinion THIS is the performance that REALLY separates her from Bella effing-Swan.  Mechanical engineer Norah Price is tough, ingenious and fiercely determined, but with the right amount of vulnerability that we really root for her, and Stewart acts her little heart out in a turn sure to win over her strongest detractors.  The creature effects are impressive too, the ultimate threat proving some of the nastiest, most repulsively icky creations I’ve seen committed to film, and the inspired design work and strong visual effects easily belie the film’s B-movie leanings.  Those made uneasy by deep, dark open water or tight, enclosed spaces should take heed that this can be a tough watch, but anyone who likes being scared should find plenty to enjoy here.  Altogether a MUCH better film than its mediocre Rotten Tomatoes rating makes it out to be …

21.  PENINSULA – back in 2016, Korean director Yeon Sang-ho and writer Park Joo-suk took the tired old zombie outbreak trope and created something surprisingly fresh with their darkly satirical action horror Train to Busan.  The film was, deservedly, a massive international smash hit and a major shot in the arm for the sub-genre on the big screen, so a sequel was inevitable, but when the time came for them to follow it up they did the smart thing and went in a very different direction.  Jettisoning much of the humour to create something much darker and more intense, they also ramped the action quotient right up to eleven, creating a nightmarish post-apocalyptic version of Korea which has been quarantined from the rest of the world for the last four years, where the few uninfected survivors eke out a dangerous day-to-day existence amidst the burgeoning undead hordes, and the value of human life has plummeted dramatically.  Into this hell-on-earth must venture a small band of Korean refugees, sent by a Hong Kong crime boss to retrieve a multi-million dollar payday in stolen loot that got left behind in the evacuation, led by former ROK Marine Corps Captain Jung-seok (Secret Reunion’s Gang Don-won), a man with a tragic past he has to make up for.  Needless to say, nothing goes according to plan … Train to Busan was an unexpected masterpiece of the genre, but I was even more bowled over by this, particularly since I got to see this on the big screen on Halloween night itself, just before the UK cinemas closed down again for the Second Lockdown. This certainly is a film that NEEDS to be seen first on the big screen – the fully-realised hellscape of undead-overrun Seoul is spectacularly immersive, the perfect cinematic playground for the film’s most impressive set-pieces, two astounding, protracted high-speed chases with searchlight-and-flair-lit all-terrain vehicles racing through the dark streets pursued by tidal waves of feral zombies. Sure, the plot is predictable and the tone gets a little overblown and maudlin at times, while some of the characters are drawn in decidedly broad strokes, but the breathless pace rarely lets up throughout, and there are moments of genuine fiendish genius on offer here, particularly in a truly disturbing centrepiece sequence in which desperate human captives are set against slavering undead in a makeshift amphitheatre for sport, as well as a particularly ingenious use for radio-controlled cars.  And the cast are brilliant, with Don-won providing a suitably robust but also pleasingly fallible, wounded hero, while Hope’s Lee Re and newcomer Lee Ye-won are irrepressibly feisty and thoroughly adorable as the young girls who rescue him from certain death among the ruins.  Altogether, this is horror cinema writ large, played more for thrills than scares but knuckle-whitening and brutally effective nonetheless, and in a year where outbreak horror became all too real for us anyway it was nice to be able to enjoy something a little more escapist anyway – given the strength of its competition in 2020, this top-notch sequel to a true genre gem did very well indeed to place this high.  I’ll admit, I wouldn’t say no to thirds …

[dai-ou-sama]

meimeng fic (pt 1)

post-canon, featuring mei hanxue coming over to sisheng peak to have a sleepover with mengmeng, and flirting (kind of).

no title yet,, just something i’ve been writing,, it’s supposed to be a 2 part fic on ao3 and this is literally the first quarter of part 1,,,,,,, but like idk when i’m going to finish writing this and I DON’T WANT TO DROP IT so i’ll put it up here as i finish it section by section hhhhh ENJOY?

“I’m sleeping with you tonight. We’re having a sleepover.” Mei Hanxue boldly declared, standing outside the door to Xue Meng’s room in his glorious, splendid silk sleeping-robes, with a gigantic bag of – what seemed like – everything he owned in his arms.

Xue Meng, too, was dressed in silk sleeping-robes, though his were a simple white rather than the embroidered, resplendent mess that was Mei Hanxue’s. 

Xue Meng stared at him speechlessly. “No.”

Mei Hanxue smiled kindly and the beauty of his face was enhanced by the soft, orange glow of the fire-lamp hanging above him. “Why not? We’ve already slept together when we were children anyway, it’s like we’re reliving the good old days!”

Xue Meng’s face crumpled and he fumed, “What do you mean ‘why not’? The past is the past, and now is now. As if I’d let someone as immoral as you even come close to my sleeping quarters now - who knows what you’d do at night?! In fact, I must’ve been mad to actually have slept in the same room as you when we were kids. I really put myself in danger!”

Mei Hanxue was completely unbothered by Xue Meng’s rant. “Don’t be so paranoid, Sect Leader Xue. What in the world could I possibly do to a character as grand as you?”

Xue Meng’s frown deepened. “Who knows! If it’s you, fucking anything is possible! And don’t call me ‘sect leader’!”

Mei Hanxue’s eyebrows rose and he selectively ignored Xue Meng’s words. “Oh my, Sect Leader Xue, what dirty things are you thinking about?” 

Xue Meng’s expression changed and he sputtered, “I– What– Who said–” 

But Mei Hanxue’s eyes were glittering now and he cut him off mercilessly, efficiently seizing the opportunity to taunt Xue Meng, “It couldn’t be… Were you thinking of me laying my hands on you? I simply wanted to relive some old memories and play around like we were kids again, but Sect Leader Xue, were you imagining–”

“–You! Obviously not! Stop putting words in my mouth, are you crazy?! Who said I thought about– about anything!” Xue Meng shouted loudly to cut Mei Hanxue off.

Xue Meng had been the one to bring up these matters in the first place, but it was just in his nature to be loud and unreasonable like that, so Mei Hanxue let it slide. Xue Meng’s face was slightly red now and he looked very much like an agitated bird that had puffed its feathers up. Mei Hanxue was faintly delighted by the sight, but he hid his smile.

“Well then, since there’s no doubt in my decency anymore, there’s nothing to fear, is there? I’ll be sleeping here tonight.” With that, Mei Hanxue easily brushed past Xue Meng and stepped into his room, shamelessly setting his things down onto the tea table in the center of the large space. 

Fuck?! What kind of fucking logic was that? Xue Meng stared at the blond-haired man in his stupid, flashy silk robes, looking left and right around his room, saying in appreciation, “Wah, Sect Leader Xue, your room has really gotten an upgrade now that you’ve become a Sect Leader now, huh. What luxury. Even my room is only half the size of yours – hm, although it is a little bit empty and dull.” 

Xue Meng felt his eye twitch in annoyance. He contemplated throwing the teapot at his face in retaliation, and the urge only grew stronger when Mei Hanxue had noticed him still standing frozen at the doorway and asked gently, “Are you going to stand there all night, Sect Leader Xue? No offence, but you look a little stupid.”

Wow, Xue Meng almost threw the entire table at the man who still had a crystal droplet still hanging at his forehead despite his sleeping clothes. In his mind he spitefully (pettily) thought, ‘You look stupid with that crystal in your hair still!’ 

However, Xue Meng was indeed a sect leader now, and he’d gone through hours and hours of Elder Xuan Ji and Elder Tan Lang’s nagging – really, enough for him to wonder if he could really endure another second more of this etiquette training before he went mad with frustration – so he restrained his anger and simply slammed the heavy wooden door shut. 

“Stop calling me ‘sect leader’,” Xue Meng said gloomily, “Why are you even here? To suddenly have an urge to have a– a fucking sleepover – have you gone mad?”

Mei Hanxue and a handful of Taxue Palace disciples had arrived at Sisheng Peak a few days ago with a letter from Palace Master Mingyue Gelou. The letter had explained that the Palace Master had heard that Sisheng peak was starting to do some reconstruction in the towns around Sisheng Peak and felt that she wanted to help as well, so she sent a few disciples over together to assist in their endeavours. Surprisingly, Mei Hanxue had been amongst this group of disciples too.

Mei Hanxue and the disciples would stay for as long as they were needed – until the towns were fully repaired, or at least, until all the ordinary civilians had a proper roof over their heads and they could resume their normal ways of living before the war between the two worlds had broken out. It was a completely no strings attached offer of aid and Xue Meng had been extremely touched by Palace Master Mingyue Gelou’s sincerity and generosity. What he didn’t understand, though, was why someone as reputed as Mei Hanxue – as much as Xue Meng resented the idea of admitting this – was here to help with such menial tasks as well. 

While Mei Hanxue and Mei HanXue had come over to visit Sisheng peak rather often ever since he’d become the sect leader and having their presence around him had become quite normal, however, they usually didn’t stay long and would leave after they finished up their matters, or after a dinner together with Xue Meng.

At first, Xue Meng had thought that maybe Mei Hanxue was just here for courtesy sake and would only stay for a while to supervise his disciples before returning to Mount Kunlun. However, not only had Mei Hanxue actually stayed and gone with the lower disciples to help with the renovations, he’d also been obediently helping Xue Meng with some administrative sect matters. All in all, he’d been very helpful in the time he’d spent here, and Xue Meng had been simultaneously pleasantly surprised, annoyed, and suspicious. 

He had no idea what this frivolous pretty-boy was scheming now, or if he was even doing so. But the past few days had been completely unproblematic, and Xue Meng had almost started to believe that Mei Hanxue was really here to just help out of the kindness of his heart. He’d even started to feel a little sorry for his earlier suspicions – though he would never say a word of it aloud, and thank god for that because just as he had started to feel so, Mei Hanxue had barged into his room and demanded they have a sleepover. Xue Meng really wanted to spit on any of the previous guilt he’d felt just before.

In front of him, Mei Hanxue turned to face him. He paused for a moment, and something flickered dimly in his eyes, but it vanished before Xue Meng had noticed it. Mei Hanxue smiled brightly. “After staying at Sisheng Peak these past few days, I was reminded of the time we’d slept together as kids. Then I realised it’s actually been a while since we last sat around and had a good chat, so I decided to come over tonight and reminisce with you!”

As Mei Hanxue said this, he nimbly untied his monstrosity of a bag and, to Xue Meng’s horror, pulled out a five-tiered tiffin carrier from it’s midst. A few pieces of his luxurious robes were accidentally pulled out along with it and they slid to the floor, already creating a mess in the few minutes he’d arrived. The tiffin carrier itself was a beautiful, polished black, and there were elegant gold engravings all around it – it was almost as extravagant as the dozens of pastries and desserts that were contained inside.

Xue Meng was rendered speechless once more. “You– …Mei Hanxue, that could feed six people at least. Are you actually stupid?”

Mei Hanxue shrugged and sat down, already picking one of the pastries up to eat. “Not as stupid as you.” 

Xue Meng threw a teacup at him in rage. Mei Hanxue dodged.

Somehow, Mei Hanxue, with his careful words and honey-soaked voice, had managed to coax Xue Meng into sitting down and eating with him. Although Xue Meng was still grumpy at first, he soon relaxed once more. Firstly, because the snacks really were quite delicious – not that Xue Meng would admit that – and secondly, because Mei Hanxue was a master at flattery – not that Xue Meng was aware of it.

Before the little peacock had even realised, hours of chatting (bickering) and snacking had already passed, and by the time Xue Meng yawned, he was in a much more agreeable mood than he’d been in when Mei Hanxue had first arrived.

Mei Hanxue watched him quietly with his face resting against his palm. Then he smiled and said, “Sect Leader Xue, it’s getting late. We should probably rest soon.”

Xue Meng humphed and stood up, heading straight for the bed. “Don’t call me ‘sect leader’.” Behind him, Mei Hanxue laughed a little and responded with an appeasing ‘alright, alright’, then went about the room putting out the candle lamps.

Because Mei Hanxue had managed to spend the last few hours plying Xue Meng with good food and an ample amount of less-than-subtle praise about all the wonderful things Sect Leader Xue had been doing nowadays, Xue Meng didn’t kick up a fuss when Mei Hanxue slipped under the covers beside him.

For a moment, it seemed as if Xue Meng had already fallen asleep, then his eyes fluttered open and he turned to glare at Mei Hanxue warily. “Mei Hanxue… I’ll say this again: you better not try anything funny – otherwise, I’ll actually murder you.”

Mei Hanxue simply returned his glare with an unbothered curl of his lips. Something gentler was hidden in his gaze, but it was too dark for Xue Meng to notice it. The sheets shifted, then Mei Hanxue reached out and flicked Xue Meng across the forehead. “I’m not going to, Mengmeng. Now get your head out of the gutter and go to sleep.”

Xue Meng bristled and made to push himself up. The words ‘you fucker’ were already halfway out of his mouth, but then, Mei Hanxue started… snoring? 

Xue Meng paused, then rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Hey.” He reached out and jabbed Mei Hanxue’s cheek with a finger. “You dog, stop pretending.”

Mei Hanxue remained motionless, his face the perfect picture of tranquility and ease. The only sound in the room was his peaceful snoring, sounding oddly elegant. Xue Meng continued to jab his cheek, pinch it, pull at it; at one point, he even shoved a finger up Mei Hanxue’s nose. In response, Mei Hanxue only frowned a little, and unconsciously swiped his hand away, but he remained asleep.  

Minutes passed like that, and Xue Meng eventually gave up with a frown, the rest of his annoyance already washed away by his disbelief and confusion. He muttered to himself, “He actually fell asleep…? Is that even possible?” Then with a final, incredulous glance at the sleeping figure beside him, he scratched his head, turned and settled back beneath the blankets. 

Xue Meng hadn’t realised just how tired he’d been. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Eventually, at some point through the night, he’d turned in his sleep and ended up facing Mei Hanxue. 

Unsurprisingly, Mei Hanxue hadn’t actually fallen asleep. Xue Meng was just a little dumb and Mei Hanxue was just very committed to his act.

“I can’t believe you actually dared stick your finger up my nose, Ziming. How rude.” Mei Hanxue said quietly, his hand coming up to stroke Xue Meng’s cheek. His touch was featherlight, the lightest brush of his fingers. “What an idiot,” Mei Hanxue laughed to himself silently, then he flicked Xue Meng’s nose, causing the sleeping man to scrunch his nose a little and swipe his hand away, quite similar to the way Mei Hanxue had pretended to do earlier.

For a while, Mei Hanxue just watched the sleeping figure in front of him. Xue Meng’s features were softened by both sleep and moonlight, making him look much younger now that he was just breathing. It was only now that he was lulled by sleep, that his face looked peaceful; that it was free of worries and anxieties. Mei Hanxue felt some of the tightness that had been in his chest since he’d first seen him when he first arrived ease.

Mei Hanxue took in the paleness of his face, the inky shadows that stained the delicate skin beneath his eyes, telling of the exhaustion that now plagued his entire being. His thumb continued to stroke over Xue Meng’s cheek, perhaps in an unconscious attempt to provide him with some comfort. 

The newly inducted sect leader. The foolish peacock. The darling of the heavens that nobody could care for. Dared to care for. Thought of caring for. Arrogant, and radiant, and too far out of anyone’s reach to be properly comforted. Mei Hanxue caressed his sleeping face with gentle hands, quietly hoping it would ease some of the pain that now marred the deepest part of his being. To take away some of the hurt that was hidden out of sight to everyone else who only spared him a passing glance.

‘It’ll be okay,’ Mei Hanxue said with the touch of his fingers against Xue Meng’s skin, with his gaze. ‘I’m here now, Ziming. It’ll be okay.’

oook that’s all for now; hope you enjoyed this very unedited meimeng crumb

[valkyrisffvii]

60 Questions about Mithra

Some background information about Mithra Valkyris

1: What’s your OCs favorite color?

Mithra’s favorite color is most definitely red, specifically dark crimson, the same color as blood. Her 2nd Class SOLDIER uniform sports this color, as do several other outfits that she wears.

2: Where does your OC work?

Mithra used to plunder people’s homes for clients as a part of a thieving ring. She was rewarded for her skills with food, clothing, and a place to stay. Unfortunately, the job ran out of use for her when she reached her late teens. In order to avoid having to sell her body to ensure a stable life, Mithra ran away from that particular part of Midgar and joined SOLDIER, the elite military group. They were reluctant to accept her at first due to the fact that she was female, but her skills in stealth ended up proving quite valuable to Shinra.

3: What’s your OCs favorite food?

Mithra is fond of anything that’s spicy. She can tolerate spicy food better than most of her friends. Mithra also has a very strong sweet tooth, preferring her coffee sweet and having a fondness for anything with chocolate. 

4: Does your OC prefer paper or plastic?

Gil does not come in card form nor paper form, so Mithra carries her gil in a pouch that attaches to her belt, much like others who don’t carry bags.

5: How old is your OC?

Mithra is around 14 when she first finds herself in lower Midgar. She joins SOLDIER at the age of 17 and is promoted to 2nd class at age 19. She is 22 when she gets into her first relationship with Sephiroth.

6: Does your OC have any supernatural powers?

Like other members of SOLDIER, Mithra receives Mako injections which give her enhanced speed, jump height, strength, and other powers. She learns several ice and electric spells to use in combat as a contrast to Genesis’ skills with fire. 

7: Is your OC in a relationship?

Before she joins SOLDIER, Mithra does try to get the attention of several girls her age, with no luck. She believes that she only holds feelings for females until she meets and falls in love with Sephiroth, whom she is afraid to confess her feelings to. Luckily, a slip of Zack’s tongue allows the two of them to confess their feelings to each other. They maintain a loving relationship for many years, and their commitment to each other pushes them to fight against those who threaten them.

8: What are some of your OCs strengths?

Having faced great adversity at a young age, Mithra is no stranger to conflict, and she has no problem with standing up for herself. She’s also very crafty with her words and actions, and she can manipulate anyone into giving in to her wishes, though she’d rather not do this unless she’s dealing with an enemy. Mithra’s stealth skills have made her a valuable asset to SOLDIER; she is a skilled lockpicker and pickpocket, and she can move silently and hide easily due to her short stature and small frame. She’s a patient teacher as well, taking some time out of her days to help infantryman Cloud train so that he can become a SOLDIER.

9: What are some of your OCs weaknesses? 

Having little to no memory of her childhood, Mithra struggles with understanding her identity. During her teenage years, she feels that she’s different from other girls because she does not hold romantic feelings towards men. Luckily, she comes to accept herself fully once she finds her place as a member of SOLDIER, and she comes out as bisexual. Mithra is also somewhat of a hothead, albeit less than that of someone like Genesis. She can get overwhelmed easily and this can result in impulsive decisions, some of which don’t end that well.

10: What is your OCs favorite outfit?

Once she hits the age of 18 and comes out, Mithra feels much more confident in her clothing choices. Like many other young women in Midgar, she likes wearing crop tops, even going so far as to alter her SOLDIER uniforms to fit her style. She hates anything that is tight around the neck, so she removed the turtleneck on the uniform as well. When she’s not in uniform, Mithra normally wears cropped tanks, as she hates sleeves. She also prefers going barefoot over constantly wearing boots.

11: What animal does your OC relate to?

Mithra probably relates most to a fox. She’s sneaky, both in physical prowess and her speech. She’s also quite solitary before she befriends the other SOLDIERS. 

12: Is your OC sexually active?

Mithra has little to no interest in a sexual relationship at first due to some bad experiences with older men on the streets. Even after she gets into a relationship, sex is not high on her list of desires, as she prefers to go on adventures with her S/O rather than have intimate moments. That being said, she does make perverted jokes occasionally… 

13: What is your OCs earliest memory?

Mithra’s earliest memory is waking up on the ground in an alleyway in Midgar. She can recall faint snapshots of her supposed childhood, but there’s nothing solid enough for her to remember vividly. She did remember her age and birthday, as well as how to fight.

14: Does your OC have a cell phone? If so, what kind?

Mithra has a touch screen smartphone like everyone else who works for Shinra. She is in several group chats including one for the six main SOLDIER members as well as SOLDIER Director Lazard, one with herself, Zack, and Cloud Strife, and one with her female friends Tifa Lockhart and Aerith Gainsborough. She often sends her friends “memes”.

15.What makes your OC angry?

Anyone who says that women are weak immediately get disapproval from Mithra, as does anyone who hates members of the LGBTQ+ community. She is also angered by those who threaten or make fun of her friends, especially anyone who antagonizes Sephiroth. The thing that she absolutely cannot stand, however, is being told to “know her place”.

16: When is your OCs favorite time of year?

Mithra loves the summer because she and the others usually get longer vacations. They often go to Costa Del Sol or another exotic location and just enjoy their time together. She is also fond of the winter cold and snow that sometimes falls in Midgar, and she can spend hours sitting at the window watching the snowflakes fall.

17: How long can your OC hold their breath?

Mithra’s SOLDIER abilities include the ability to hold her breath longer than the average person. However, she does have her limits, as seen when she dives into a reservoir lake to search for a piece of materia and gets attacked by mutated Shinra creations, which results in Sephiroth having to save her.

18: What kind of underwear does your OC wear?

Cotton. She thinks lace and silk are stupid, not to mention the mess they’d become during one’s menstrual cycle.

19: Does your OC prefer plaid or polka dots?

Mithra isn’t particularly fond of either. 

20: What’s your OCs favorite kind of pizza?

Either Margherita or barbecue chicken. She will judge anyone who thinks pineapple on pizza is good.

21: Who is your OCs best friend?

When she first joined SOLDIER, Mithra felt out of place because she was the only woman. However, Zack Fair, who was on the brink of making 2nd Class at the time, was quick to introduce himself to her and make her feel welcome. She and Zack quickly became close friends, both of them having a sense of humor and outgoing personalities. Through Zack, Mithra met and befriended the elite 1st Class members Genesis Rhapsodos, Angeal Hewley, and Sephiroth. Mithra became close friends with Cloud Strife after she helped him make SOLDIER. Mithra also became close friends with Aerith after helping Zack get closer to her, and Cloud introduced her to his childhood friend Tifa. 

22: Has your OC ever killed someone?

Before joining SOLDIER, Mithra had actually never killed anyone. She had to knock a few people out using her rock sling in order to escape a few fights, but she never murdered anyone in cold blood. After she became a SOLDIER, she’d do regular jobs that sometimes involved killing people, but only because it was her job and not due to personal grudges.

23: What's your OCs biggest secret?

Mithra was groped several times in her teen years by older drunk men, which fueled her dislike of alcohol. She also has a prominent scar behind her right ear that spans vertically from the top of her ear to the upper part of her neck. This scar was given to her by a drunk man who smashed a beer bottle into her head after she refused to sleep with him when she was sixteen. Had she not jerked her head away, the broken bottle would have disfigured her face, maybe even rendered her blind in her right eye.

24: What does your OC smell like?

Mithra doesn’t like perfume, so unlike Sephiroth, she simply smells like powder-fresh deodorant. Her hair can smell badly if she doesn’t wash it daily.

25: What time of year does your OC prefer?

(Same as 16)

26: Is your OC a human or an animal?

Mithra is very much human, albeit somewhat of a superhuman due to Mako injections.

27: What languages does your OC speak?

Mithra only knows the common language spoken by most people on Gaia. She also doesn’t have an apparent accent. 

28: Does your OC like anime?

She’s not really into it itself, but she does like the art style and tries to replicate it in her spare time.

29: Can your OC swim?

Mithra is a surprisingly strong swimmer. Her small frame allows her to move in the water swiftly, and she has strong arms and legs thanks to SOLDIER training. She enjoys swimming whenever she gets the chance, especially during the hot summer months.

30: What does your OC choose to do about the, er, hair down there?

She shaves, but she would never let anyone wax her down there.

31: Does your OC believe in fairies? 

Mithra isn’t overly superstitious, but she believes in ghosts. 

32: Did your OC go to college? What did they major in?

Anything Mithra learned was either a result of an experience (bad or good) or from being in SOLDIER. She did know how to read and write when she woke up, though. Zack introduced Mithra to Angeal, who took her under his wing alongside Zack. Angeal taught her most of the skills she needed in SOLDIER, and Mithra caught on pretty quickly.

33: Are your OCs parents dead? 

Mithra does not know who her parents are or if they abandoned her in that alleyway. She has faint visions of people whom she thinks are her parents, but she isn’t sure if they’re still alive or not. Seeing as no one came looking for her, it’s most likely that she was left to die by her parents, or her parents had died and whoever was caring for her got rid of her. 

34: Is your OC religious?

Mithra does sometimes mention Shiva when she’s surprised, but for the most part she is agnostic.

35: How flexible is your OC?

Mithra is much more flexible than any of the other SOLDIERs. She is great at climbing and has great balance. One of her pastimes is doing parkour in the simulation room with the scene set to rooftops in Midgar. Her past life as a thief gave her the ability to jump fences and squeeze into tight spaces. She also has great grip strength and can hang on for long periods of time without letting go.

36: What turns your OC on?

Mithra loves people who are confident and assertive. She believes that the most “masculine” thing that a man could do is not care about what others think. She likes girls who also don’t care about outside opinions and stand up for themselves. The most attractive trait that a person could have, in her opinion, is undying loyalty. 

37: What was your OCs first word?

As for the first word she uttered as an infant, Mithra has no idea what it was. However, the first thing she said when she woke up was “Huh?”

38: Does your OC have any pets?

While she’s living in the Shinra building in Midgar, Mithra does not have any pets. However, she dreams of getting a dog someday, particularly a husky or a corgi.

39: Who is your OCs biggest enemy?

At first, Mithra’s enemies are the criminals she works with as they try to force her into submission. When she escapes the criminal underworld and joins SOLDIER, her greatest enemy is Professor Hojo. She harbors a strong dislike towards him from the very beginning due to his obsession with using live subjects, and the hatred only grows when she finds out the truth about Sephiroth’s origins. Hojo’s feelings towards her are mutual, and he even goes so far as to torture her for meddling in his work. 

40: What is the craziest thing your OC has done?

The craziest thing Mithra’s done is probably dating the famous, elite Silver General despite his hoards of fangirls, directly contributing to thousands of jealous women all over the Planet. She does not fear them one bit even though they are notorious for fanatically snooping and gossiping about Sephiroth. Then again, the Silver Elite are also terrified of her.

41: What is your OCs motto about life?

“I’m selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and, at times, hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” - Marilyn Monroe

42: Does your OC drink coffee or tea?

Mithra is partial to both, but she prefers green tea and likes her coffee sweet with plenty of cream. She hates iced tea but she loves iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk.

43: Who is your OCs biggest hero?

Probably the three Firsts. Between Genesis’ dramatic personality, Angeal’s devotion to honor, and Sephiroth’s inner warmth, she deeply admires all three of them. However, unlike their fan clubs, who love them for their deeds, appearances, and heroics, she appreciates their personalities and her friendships with them. 

44: What color eyes does your OC have?

Unlike most other SOLDIERs, Mithra does not have the signature “Mako eyes” despite receiving Mako. This makes it easy for her to hide the fact that she’s in SOLDIER. Her eyes remain their natural warm brown, and they appear to have golden reflects in direct sunlight. 

45: Does your OC like reading?

Mithra absolutely hates reading. Part of it is from constantly listening to Genesis recite LOVELESS, and most of it is because she prefers actually doing things rather than reading about other people’s experiences. She has stolen LOVELESS from Genesis multiple times, much to his annoyance (don’t worry, they’re still best friends).

46: Is your OC loyal?

Having been betrayed before, Mithra vows to never betray her friends. She is an incredibly loyal friend and girlfriend. She would never cheat on Sephiroth with anyone, nor would she sell anyone out for her own gain. If she ever accidentally betrays someone, she will do anything to gain forgiveness. 

47: Does your OC tolerate violence?

Unfortunately, Mithra has to tolerate some violence as a member of Shinra’s elite military. She is not overly fond of violence in situations where it’s unnecessary. However, she is more than willing to kill people who have hurt her or her close friends. 

48: What social class is your OC from?

Mithra started out as a thief, a class that no average person would want any association with. She jumped dramatically in social hierarchy when she joined SOLDIER, becoming a high-ranking member of society. When she enlisted, Director Lazard was quick to remind the other members that she deserved respect as the only female. She was even given her own private suite with a full kitchen, bathroom, living room, and bedroom in order to ensure her privacy among all the men in SOLDIER.

49: What country was your OC born in?

Somewhere on the planet of Gaia. It’s not exactly known where Mithra was born, as she was already a teenager when she found herself in Midgar. Her family could have very well either been from Midgar originally or they may have moved from another town. 

50: Does your OC cry easily?

Mithra has taught herself to be strong and stoic in times of hardship and show little emotion. She does not cry easily, but she prefers to work off her anger and sadness by doing target practice. When she meets her friends and eventually gets into a relationship, however, Mithra becomes more open with her feelings and is willing to let her emotions out rather than bearing her burdens. She feels that her friends accept her fully and will be there for her even when she seems weak.

51: What is your OCs favorite genre of music?

Mithra loves instrumental music that she can play while doing things such as cleaning, cooking, or drawing. She also loves songs that she can sing or dance to. She would often sing to herself when she was alone in order to keep herself occupied. 

52: How does your OC feel about insects?

Despite her adventurous personality, Mithra is terrified of cockroaches, slugs, and moths. She likes flies and mosquitoes and the like as much as the next person, and she thinks that bees are cute at a distance. She is extra happy when Sephiroth moves in with her because it means that she doesn’t have to kill any roaches that wander into her apartment. 

53: What is your OCs sexual orientation?

At first, Mithra believes that she is a lesbian, as she only feels attraction to women during her time as a thief. However, everything changes when she joins SOLDIER and she’s exposed to charismatic men such as Zack, Genesis, Angeal, and Sephiroth. She comes out as bisexual at the age of 18, which makes her the only member of SOLDIER to be an open member of the LGBTQ+ community at the time. 

54: Does your OC smoke?

Similarly to her feelings towards alcohol, Mithra loathes tobacco. She was forced to smell it when wandering around the criminal underworld and never got used to it. She also knows that smoking can ruin one’s body and does not want to destroy herself at such a young age.

55: What gender is your OC?

Mithra identifies as a cisgender female. She is mostly feminine, but she enjoys crossdressing in men’s clothes. A particularly amusing instance of this is when she tries on Sephiroth’s coat, which drags behind her like a cape, and the sleeves are several inches too long. Sephiroth does get a good laugh out of this, though.

56: What kind of clothes does your OC wear?

Mithra’s wardrobe consists of crop tops and comfortable pants such as sweatpants or leggings. She hates long sleeves and therefore wears tanks most of the time. When she’s not wearing her SOLDIER combat boots, Mithra is normally either barefoot or sporting sandals. She’s also quite fond of two-pieced dresses, as seen with her choice of fashion for Shinra’s annual banquet. 

57: Would you call your OC adventurous? 

Mithra lives for adventure. During her time as a thief, she would wander around the slums of Midgar with constant interest in the different people living in the city. Her job as a SOLDIER only gave her new opportunities for adventures around Gaia. She has traveled to Costa Del Sol, Banora, and several other small towns. She also travels to several remote areas.

58: Is your OC introverted or extroverted?

Despite seeming more introverted at first due to her solidarity, Mithra is actually very extroverted and loves being around people. Befriending Zack and then the others turned out to be one of the best things that happened to her, as it allowed her to relate to other people and feel a sense of belonging. 

59: What is the first thing that someone would notice about your OC?

Mithra is very short, standing at 5’3”. She looks even shorter when she’s with her fellow SOLDIERs. The only one close to her height is Cloud Strife, and even he is four inches taller than her. She also does not sport blue eyes like other members of SOLDIER, but instead retains her natural brown eyes. 

60: Does your OC enjoy nature?

Even though she’s mostly a city girl, Mithra does enjoy the great outdoors. She goes camping with Zack and Cloud several times and fully enjoys it (partially because she can scare Zack). She does drag her boyfriend with her a few times, much to his displeasure.