#you're crying a lot

[inkskinned]

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

a couple scribbles i cleaned up. also i think i like drawing him in varying states of distress

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

There's something to be said about Nine and Twelve as parallels, about them being these seeming grumps with hearts of gold who must relearn optimism while being fundamentally kind at the end of the day, and Eleven and Thirteen as parallels, as these lonely tinkerers who travel with multiple companions at the same time but push people away before they get too close because they are creatures built on grief, and Ten alone, as something that is all and none of the above, who starts out as a creature born of love but who loses said love and is willing to die and must find grounding but loses said grounding and declares himself the Time Lord Victorious because if he cannot have love he has to have something, anything, he can call his own, and about how all five of them are shaped, fundamentally, by their grief and their guilt over the Time War and being the last of their kind and how every companion leaves them and they will always, always be the last one in the TARDIS, always be the last one surviving, no matter what, and yet all of them, at the end of the day, die to save someone. Die to be kind, just one more time. Because that is what ties them all together. That is what makes them the Doctor.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I want you whipped into shape!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[elvisqueso]

Times they had to say goodbye — [4/4]

Pocahontas (1995)

[greeneyessmize]

You all really really really need to watch this.

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The whole thing. The Hozier Take Me To Church? The cheek caress? The chin hold? The almost kiss? I am deeeeaaaaaad. This is so romantic. I love it even more than the original. 🐝🍯🏵

Lyrics after the cut:

"Take Me To Church"

My lover's got humour

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshipped her sooner

If the heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week

"We were born sick," you heard them say it

My church offers no absolutes

She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom"

The only heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you

I was born sick

But I love it

Command me to be well

Aaay. Amen. Amen. Amen

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

If I'm a pagan of the good times

My lover's the sunlight

To keep the Goddess on my side

She demands a sacrifice

Drain the whole sea

Get something shiny

Something meaty for the main course

That's a fine-looking high horse

What you got in the stable?

We've a lot of starving faithful

That looks tasty

That looks plenty

This is hungry work

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

Offer me my deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

Offer me my deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

No Masters or Kings

When the Ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

Only then I am human

Only then I am clean

Ooh oh. Amen. Amen. Amen

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

[cobaltfluff]

so i started playing persona 4

where are the QoL features

[thefirstknife]

We're told that at the beginning of the Golden Age "human lifespans tripled" - my impression is that this continues to be a case and that the humans we know are often well over 100 years old. In my head at least, Eva is in her mid 200s. Am I wrong, or is this supported by canon?

I believe it is still the case, though finding evidence is really difficult, mostly because we simply don't have a timeline. I think it would make sense for this to still be in effect because nothing else from the Traveler's terraforming and gifts was removed post-Collapse.

However, the question is also how much of the extended lifespan was due to the paracausality of the Traveler and its gifts and how much was just advancement in technology. Or a combination of both? If the majority of the lifespan extension was just due to technology, then this would've been lost post-Collapse. But possibly some of it could have been regained in the recent years, affecting the lifespans again.

One of the most obvious questions is Eris and the status of Lightless Guardians and aging. She lost her Light in the Great Disaster which was quite a while ago, but how long ago exactly? Long enough for this to affect her? Long enough to be noticeable or not? It doesn't seem to be very noticeable, so either it wasn't too long ago, or Guardians don't age even after losing their Light, or the lifespan is still extended so Eris is just old and it's not a big deal.

Eva is also a curious case, as we know very little about her life. She's very clearly an older woman, but we have no idea about when she was born. There's not a single mention of anything from her youth that would help us place it somewhere in the timeline. Has she been around for a normal amount of time or extended? She made one comment to Osiris (at the time Savathun, but Eva didn't know that):

"Eva. It's been too long. You look as bright as ever." Osiris melted out of the shadows near her doorway. The ex-outfitter snorted. "That's faint praise coming from someone who's been fifty for several centuries."

More under:

This can be read in several ways. it might just be a phrase because Guardians are known to not age. She knows Osiris must be the same as he was when he was rezed and she knows that he's been around for a while, given that he's a well-known Guardian. Or maybe she's also been around for a while and has seen him before; while she aged normally over the centuries, he didn't.

But that also becomes a problem with his exile because that would mean she would have to have seen him for a while before his exile and then years would've passed during the exile and she's still around now, which would make her quite significantly old (and would also prove extended lifespans). But we have no real proof of this.

Speaking of Osiris and his exile, there is one other specific piece of evidence, but it also depends A LOT on how well we can estimate when certain events happened.

Sister Faora! She led the Cult of Osiris at the time of Osiris' exile (and for ?? years after). We know this because she got to meet Osiris merely weeks after his exile:

The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him.

The last time she appeared in the setting (in-game wise) was around House of Wolves; after that, she was no longer mentioned. I honestly thought she died of old age and that this wasn't important enough to mention because she's a fairly niche character.

But she didn't die. She appeared in the City during Season of the Deep. And it's not a story of something from the past, it's her being in the City in the present time because she meets with Shayura who is mourning Reed-7's death (which occured at the start of Lightfall). This now gives us a unique insight because she's a normal Lightless human, and we have two specific points of reference: Osiris' exile and the Witness' attack on Earth in Lightfall. We would just have to figure out how long it's been between these two events, which is where the problems start and assumptions must be made.

My first assumption is that Faora must've already been old-ish when she was the leader of the Cult back during Osiris' exile. I think it's reasonable to assume this, given her position as a leader. I always thought she would've been at least 40 or older at the time of speaking to Osiris after his exile.

The first problem is the timeline of Osiris' exile. We know he was exiled around Twilight Gap which brings us to problem 2: when was that? This leads to assumption 2: Twilight Gap happened at least a century ago. There's some evidence to this, namely Osiris saying the following:

They were young, and nearly a century of navigation through the Infinite Forest had honed Osiris's ability to remain unseen.

But does this refer to the time passing in general or the time dilation in the Forest? So the problems continue. It's basically impossible to tell what's the time span between these events; both the Great Disaster (for the question of Eris' age) and Twilight Gap are notoriously hard to place, even in relation to each other. This has been an ongoing debate for years.

If Twilight Gap is not that long ago - maybe a few decades - then Faora's age could probably be within normal limits, though depending on her age at the time of Osiris' exile, she could be pushing 100 or more. So even if Twilight Gap was less than 50 years ago, Faora could still be too old for non-extended lifespans.

She would have to have been in her 20s and Twilight Gap would have to be at max 50 years ago for her to be within a reasonable current age if the lifespan is not extended. Both of these estimates feel too low to me, especially Faora's age as an established leader of the Cult with a lot of authority. As I said, I imagined her being at least 40-50 at the time of speaking to Osiris.

And Twilight Gap has to be at least several decades away. I find it hard to believe that the Gap happened like 20 years ago; it's always talked about like Guardian history and its relation to Osiris' exile is fairly significant as well, so I'd give it at least a century, which also matches with Osiris' statement. If Twilight Gap happened at least a century ago and Faora was at least 40 at that time, she would have to be 140 right now which I think would suggest extended lifespan. However, depending on how we do the estimates, she could easily also be around 60-70.

But the truth is, we don't know. Much like the timeline, I think this is also very deliberately vague. I think it's very possible that the lifespans are still extended, or perhaps that there is some middle ground. The original Golden Age lifespans are still out of reach but the technological advancements in the current age combined with everything the Traveler has done to the system in the Golden Age allow for humans to push past what we have today. So maybe they can't get to the projected Golden Age 300 years, but possibly being 150 or 200 isn't out of reach.

Unfortunately, we don't really know for sure. We could probably go into analysis of every normal mortal human character mentioned and try to figure things out, but there will be confusing and contradicting evidence all over the place, keeping this fairly vague. And there would also be the issue of individual outliers; either those that live longer or die younger for reasons unrelated to aging.

Personally, I think lifespans are at the very least at least somewhat extended.

[apostate-in-an-alcove]

"They make being ex Christian/Muslim their whole personality 😒." Good for them! Deconstructing and leaving your religion is difficult to do, they should be proud for making that choice and embarking on that journey.

[july-19th-club]

one of the good changes from episode one is the way the lead-up to their flight to camp is used also as a way to explore what grover's been through, how terrified he is of 'screwing up' a mission again, how much he kind of hates his job. because he befriends these kids, he's really just a kid himself, still, and then he has to lie to them and push them away for the mission as a whole, and aryan sells how much he just hates it. how convinced he is that getting only one of and not both of the people whose safety he's entrusted with to camp IS 'failure' and not 'as much success as could be expected, under the circumstances'. he's got this anxiety that stems from feeling older than and having more responsibility expected of him than the children he meets, befriends, and guides to camp, but he's not really older, not emotionally, not in terms of anything except raw years, which doesn't really mean as much as he thinks it does when, for instance, he was also seven for twice as long as a human boy. but he's surrounded by not just humans, but human hybrids who die super young, so that is the time scale he thinks on, and he DOES feel older and he does feel a responsibility! in the book he's basically out of the picture for this sequence, so i really enjoyed getting to see some stuff geared towards his past and his goals and his issues . hi sweetheart i always loved you and you're going to find a god who's spent thousands of years hiding from everyone but you, because you care about him more than anyone else ever, ever has, and when he dies you're gonna put what's left of his soul in your heart and i love you so much

[inkskinned]

it mattered because when my brother asked me what if this is the happiest you'll ever be? the best you'll ever get? the thing i felt was fear, not peace. everybody thought you were so perfect for me. even i thought you were "helping me grow". i had to challenge every internal clock. make myself more thoughtful, more kind, more beautiful.

i told my therapist it was good because i like the changes i made and there's something so strong about saying i did that. the problem is that i can like the difference all i want, but i changed for you. something akin to getting your name tattooed, all my progress is stamped with fuck you.

it was the happiest i'd ever been and also the best i'd ever gotten. i would still get in the car and think what the fuck just happened.

[utilitycaster]

You know what's interesting to me? For all people keep claiming at every juncture that perhaps Bells Hells will come around on the gods and see the harm they do (which, as discussed extensively, is, half the time, simply not intervening) not only have they never done so, but also they never quite cross the line into saying the party should join the Ruby Vanguard or aid them - and indeed, they defend against it - so what does this achieve? It feels like they're asking for a story in which the party stands idly by, which isn't much of a story nor, if I may connect this briefly to the real world, a political stance anyone should be proud of.

That's honestly the frustration with the gods and the "what if the Vanguard has a point" conversations in-game. What do we do then? Do we allow the organization that will murder anyone for pretty much any reason that loosely ties into their goals run rampant? The group that (perhaps unwittingly, but then again, Otohan's blades had that poison) disrupted magic world-wide, and caused people who had the misfortune to live at nexus points to be teleported (most, as commoners, without means of return). While also fomenting worldwide unrest?

Those were the arguments before the trip to Ruidus; with the reveal of the Vanguard's goals to invade Exandria, the situation becomes even more dire. Do you let the Imperium take over the planet?

And do the arguments against the gods even hold up? If Ludinus is so angry at them for the Calamity, what does it say that he destroyed Western Wildemount's first post-Calamity society for entirely selfish means? (What does it say about the validity of vengeance as a motivator?) What does it say that Laudna told Imogen she could always just live in a cottage quietly without issue before the solstice even happened? (Would this still be true if the Imperium controls the world?) What does it say that when faced with a furious, grieving party and the daughter she keeps telling herself was her reason for all of this, Liliana can't provide an answer to the question of what the gods have done other than that their followers will retaliate...for, you know, the Vanguard's endless list of murders. (That is how the Vanguard and Imperium tend to think, huh? "How dare your face get in the way of my boot; how dare you hit me back when I strike you.") She can't even provide a positive answer - why is Predathos better - other than "I feel it", even though Imogen and Fearne know firsthand that Predathos can provide artificial feelings of elation. Given all the harm Ludinus has done in pursuit, why isn't the conclusion "the gods should have crashed Aeor in such a way that the tech was unrecoverable?"

Even as early as the first real discussion on what the party should do, the fandom always stopped short of saying "no, Imogen's right, they should join up with the people who killed half the party," it was always "no, she didn't really mean it, she just was trying to connect with her mother." Well, she's connected with her mother, and at this point the party doesn't even care about the gods particularly (their only divinely-connected party member having died to prevent the Vanguard from killing all of them). So they will stop the Vanguard; as Ashton says, the means are unforgiveable. As Laudna says, it's not safe to bet on Predathos's apathy. As Imogen says, she's done running; the voice that she used to think of as a lifeline belongs to someone she doesn't trust. So I guess my question is: if they're stopping the people who are trying to kill the gods (and defense of the gods isn't remotely their personal motivation)...do you think the next phase of the campaign is Bells Hells personally killing the gods? Reconstructing the Aeor tech and hoping none of their allies notice? How does this end? Does your ideology ever get enacted? Or is this entirely moot and pointless and the story ends with Bells Hells saying "well, I'm really glad we stopped the people who [insert list of Vanguard atrocities from above]; none of us follow the gods or plan to, but honestly, the status quo we return to is preferable to whatever nightmare Ludinus had concocted in his violent quest for power and revenge"?

[merakiui]

angel and devil on your shoulder as the leech twins except they’re both devils they just argue who’s bad idea u should do XD

OOOOOO omg devil!Jade who is always up to no good... and then angel!Floyd who is objectively the worst angel ever. T_T he's the least holy angel you'll ever meet (he's committing sacrilege daily and archangel Rollo is going to kick him out of heaven for one more infraction), but at least he's sort of good at his job (i.e. he's good at lazing around and putting good vibes out into the world)???

He's assigned to you as your guardian angel and all is well until Jade worms his way into your life, ready to lead you astray with all sorts of mischievous temptation. He's the soggiest incubus you've ever met because he thought it'd be cute to look pathetic and hungry, but you refuse to let him feed from you and now he just looks silly when he's all splayed out on your bed like a nude model in his skimpy outfit. :( mission failed successfully? Because now he's so whipped for you, the only human who's able to resist all of his charms. He thinks he'll stay for a while; your home is very comfortable. <3

Floyd's kicking him out because you're his human shrimpy. It's his job to look after and protect you. Jade is not welcomed here. >:( Floyd's jealousy gets the better of him and maybe he's being petty when he blesses your house and puts all sorts of magical seals and enchantments on it to ward off devils like Jade, but this is only because he wants you all to himself. How else can he possibly have a chance with you if Jade's so annoyingly relentless with his attempts to charm you into sex? T_T

[neomedievalist]

imagine that you're the perfect knight, of all time forever, and you then have to deal with failure for basically the first time in your life and are hated by god and get tormented for a whole two-three books and cry a lot and do penance and cry again a bunch and your son finds the holy grail and is taken to heaven by angels and looks objectively better than you in every way and you're like dude fuck okay i'm a bad person i get it i get it and you try to be better and to repent and it's not enough because you're still locked out of the grail chamber and it's really a Dog at the Door Looking Inside Seeing But Not Entering Fiasco and then you get knocked out for 24 days by god as punishment for being a bad person even though you literally were just trying to help. and then everyone comes back to camelot and is like man sure sucks that your son died and also perceval but it is because they were morally perfect they got to see the grail & go to heaven lol. and you're like whatever man. so you get back on your bullshit but you still feel bad and guinivere is like why are you ignoringg meeeeeee and youre like i just got told directly by god that i would be perfect if i wasnt distracted by fucking you and shes like wow you are such an asshole and then exiles you and you fight in some tournaments in disguise and do some random shit and then a bunch of time passes and you come back and arthur is like hey while you're here. there's this guy who, crazy story actually, by pure beautiful mary sue plot contrivance, apparently he can only be healed by the best knight in all the world. we'd uh love if you could give a shot. because we had a whole page and a half worth of knights and kings try already. and you're like. dude you're wasting your time but i guess i'll try. and then you check out his wounds and he's immediately healed. What would you do in this situation.

[tunastime]

A Minute in the Morning

so I started playing pokemon legends arceus. crumples to the ground. (2762 words)

In a hazy, rusty morning light, Ingo wakes up.

It’s a slow start—like his office computer, taking a whole ten minutes to finish booting, enough to stir sugar into his morning coffee and dissect his breakfast sandwich into parts. It feels like it takes just about that much time for Ingo to become aware of where he’s lying, which is in bed. Which is not where he fell asleep to begin with, which means that someone lifted him to bed and tucked him in. Which was rather sweet. Because he’s burrowed into the covers like a happy drilbur, keeping the cold from his fingers and toes and nose. He finally blinks his eyes open, and it’s sunrise that fills his room. Not his room. Scratch that. Emmet’s room. No wonder the blankets are so much lighter than he remembers them being. Nevertheless. Happy drilbur. He weasels a little more into the pillow. From either side of him, something moves. It’s slight, if there, but as he cranes his neck, slow and careful, he can see a dark head of hair on one side, and silver-white on the other. 

Ingo’s heart swells a fraction too big and too warm for his chest as he sighs out.

Elesa and Emmet haven’t woken up yet, which is a plus. If he were to move too much and move them he might lose the warmth from either side. Elesa’s shoulder rests against the crest of his back, and Emmet’s holding onto his elbow with one hand. The grip is loose at best, but the warmth, both from shoulder to spine and hand to elbow, seeps through him.

It’s blurry. Just everything. It kind of mushes together in his brain, like jam. Or maybe jelly. It doesn’t really matter. If he thinks too hard, his stomach starts to twist in knots, and he’d rather not feel sick while he’s trying to enjoy his morning. He remembers falling asleep while the television played the night prior—nighttime skits and commercials he filtered out until Emmet’s shoulder became the comfiest thing. He supposes that sometime between that point, and the point which he’s just woken up, Elesa came in, and at some other point, he was carted off to bed. It’s nice, though. The blankets make just enough weight over him to soothe ache and anxiety, and it’s warm, and he’s mostly thinking about how nice a cup of coffee sounds right now. Maybe a latte. Something warm. He shuts his eyes again.

The light is surprisingly yellower when he wakes up again. There’s still a warm weight on both sides of him, but it feels different than before. It stretches over him, too, more than just the weighted blanket that’s been added on top of him. He peeks an eye open to find Eelektross slumped over him, his large head curled near Ingo’s shoulder and his similarly large eyes shut as he snores. Ingo snorts, trying to shift to his back with the weight over him, without waking Eelektross. He does after a moment, settling once again, only for Eelektross to huff and fix one, tired eye on his face. Ingo smiles, just a little.

Wriggling a hand free, he pats Eelektross’ forehead, a path well pet and well loved.

“Good morning, you gigantic eel.”

Eelektross trills, nuzzling into Ingo’s hand.

“Mm, yes,” Ingo says. “I’m sure that definitely did not alert Emmet that I am awake, meaning I can’t fake any more sleep. Thank you Eelektross.”

The eel gives a happy sniff.

Ingo snorts.

Typical.

The door cracks open a moment later, the wide eyes of his brother peeking through. He raises his eyebrows, looking over Ingo and Eelektross still in bed. It comes with a little head tilt, something Ingo knows is indicative of an Emmet with a question.

“Sleep well?” he asks. Ingo nods.

“I think so,” he says. “I didn’t realize I’d be carried to bed when I fell asleep.”

“Ah!” Emmet says, eyebrows raising. “I made sure you stayed asleep when we carried you in. You’re a very deep sleeper when you want to be.”

It’s getting better, the gaps in his memory. It’s not enough to trust himself to start his duties as a Subway Boss again, but it's enough to have a few doctor’s appointments and to speak with police and his boss and their coworkers. He’s remembered their pokemon, which is why Eelektross didn’t startle him. And he’s remembered enough for him to fall asleep on Emmet’s shoulder with no care in the world. Enough for life to begin to settle from the chaos. Today is Tuesday, which means Emmet has the day off, and Ingo can tell, even as he reaches to wipe sleep from his eyes, that Emmet is still in his pajamas. He opens the door a little wider, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Ah,” Ingo echoes. “Was it Elesa’s idea to sleep in your room rather than my own?”

“It was,” Emmet concedes, smiling. “But I am Emmet, and I make a very good pillow.”

“You are Emmet and you are a very clingy sleeper,” Ingo says, letting his eyes shut again. Emmet makes a startled noise.

“Go-Go, don’t fall asleep again,” he yaps. “Your breakfast will get cold.”

Slowly, Ingo opens one eye, looking at his brother in the doorway. Eelektross snuffs into his shoulder, wriggling off of him. He grunts as the eel’s weight shifts off, leaving him free, but cooler.

“What’s for breakfast?” he says, watching Eelektross wriggle off the bed and toward Emmet. Emmet opens the door a bit further, takes a step back, and hefts the eel into his arms, knees bending with the weight. Ingo watches Emmet giggle to himself, shifting Eelektross in his arms to better wrap around his neck and arms, weight heavy against him. Clearly.

“Pancakes,” Emmet huffs. He’s still smiling, something almost infectious.

“Alright,” Ingo sighs.

“I also cut some fruit.”

“I’m getting up,” Ingo grumbles, rolling onto his side before he peels himself up and into a sit.

“I think Elesa left her nice coffee creamer, also.”

“I’m already up, Em,” Ingo snorts, trying not to laugh. “You don’t have to convince me.”

Emmet laughs again.

“Just adding!” he says cheerily, wobbling off toward the living room. In the open doorway, Ingo can see the sprawl of their living room and kitchen, lit by yellow daylight. Ingo sighs, stretching his arms above his head, twisting around. When the room settles, he stands, and he realizes that the room is warm around him. Emmet must’ve turned the heat on, and it must actually be working. He hums as he combs his hair back, wandering into the bathroom to wash his face.

When he finally makes it to the kitchen table, Emmet is sitting at the table, scrolling on his x-transceiver. He’s changed into a cream-colored, high collared sweater, his hair held back with a small headband. Eelektross is lying across the couch, head resting on the arm. There’s a plate of pancakes sitting in front of Ingo’s seat at the table, and a half-eaten plate in front of Emmet. He looks up as Ingo sits, raising his eyebrows.

“Good morning,” Emmet says. He nudges a cup of coffee toward Ingo. It’s a light brown color—likely the way that Ingo likes it. It helps they like their plain coffee the same way. If it were any other type of coffee, Ingo’s certain there would be some big disagreement—type of milk and way of prep and iced versus hot. But Ingo takes a long sip of hot coffee and nearly sighs in relief. Whatever fancy creamer Elesa buys really does make a plain cup of coffee so much better. He sits, nudging Emmet with his foot under the table.

“What are you reading?” he asks, gesturing with his fork to Emmet’s phone. Emmet holds it up.

“Article on a new electric rail system in Galar.” 

Ingo tilts his head, nodding along.

“Interesting. Any good?”

“Very efficient,” Emmet says, nodding along. He eventually pulls back, setting his phone face down on the table and returning to his pancakes. He takes a large bite, and through it, says:

“Maybe Gear Station should get some upgrades.”

Ingo snorts.

“We’re already quite efficient,” he says. “Do you think our trains could be quicker? Easier to board?”

Emmet shrugs.

“Wishful thinking. They’re already automatically driven, so there isn’t much more, but maybe longer cars to hold more passengers. Our trains are quite small.”

“Sounds expensive,” Ingo says, drinking his coffee. He pulls apart his stack of pancakes, poking at them with his fork.

“Maybe they’ve already got an upgrade in the works,” Emmet says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had an all-staff meeting. Perhaps we should inform the director.”

“Especially since I’ve returned and have about three years to catch up on, mm?”

Emmet smiles. It’s a bit tight, though. Ingo glances away, biting into his tongue. Should’ve kept that thought to himself.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says. “Though I promise you that not much has changed in the last three years.”

Ingo hums. He believes it, that nothing much has shifted. It’s hard to say, obviously, considering he wasn’t there to see it for himself, but his brother was never the type to lie without a reason, and this certainly didn’t have a good one. He takes a large bite of pancake and finds them still warm. It’s a quiet breakfast, between pancakes and coffee and Galvantula sleeping underneath the table. Emmet eventually finishes his food, shoveling large bites of pancake into his mouth as quickly as he can. Ingo watches him swallow with surprising difficulty, reaching for his cup of coffee. It takes a moment for Ingo to stomach the rest of his pancakes. Having this much food is a luxury he had not often afforded a month prior. His stomach still wasn’t used to it.

“Where is Elesa?” Ingo asks after a beat. Emmet talks through a mouthful of pancake and strawberry and maple syrup. 

“Mm, she had four battle appointments today, but she’ll be back around. Probably before two.”

Emmet is the first to finish, setting all his dishes together as he stands. He moves around Ingo as Ingo finishes, collecting dishes and setting everything in the sink. As Ingo stands to pass him his plate, he asks:

“Did you have a plan today?

“Mm?” Emmet hums. “No, not particularly. Why? Is there something you wanted to do?”

Ingo frowns, face pulling.

“Well,” he starts. “I was thinking—”

“Ah,” Emmet interjects. “Your first mistake—”

“I was thinking,” Ingo continues, narrowing his eyes. “That it might be a good idea for us to visit Elesa. I need to ask her for a new coat.”

“Mm!” Emmet startles, turning toward him. His face brightens. “That’s right! You do need a new coat. Good thing she’ll be over later, mm?”

Ingo nods. He fetches his coffee mug, pouring another cup of black coffee to balance the sweetened dregs. He leans back against the counter right as Emmet goes to hand him a dish to put away. They work in tandem for a moment, pausing as Ingo works to finish his coffee.

It’s a slow morning, 8:45am, and Ingo gazes back at his bed with longing.

It’s just. When’s the last time he had such a good sleep, right? On a bed that soft? He’d gotten so used to tatami mats and the grass and canvas laid out on the ground and here was a bed, with thick fluffy blankets and several large pillows and another person taking up space. It was very—stop it, Ingo—it’s comfortable. He hands Emmet his coffee mug.

“Ingo,” Emmet says.

Ingo hums. His eyes have drifted to the couch. Maybe standing is a little hard today. He should sit, shouldn’t he?

“Is my brother still up there?” Emmet asks, tapping Ingo’s head. Ingo startles as he does, turning to him.

“I would hope so,” he says. “Otherwise I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Not here, obviously” Emmet says. He finishes rinsing Ingo’s mug, setting it top down on the drying mat. “Though I’m not entirely sure you’re all there right now, are you?”

“Trying,” Ingo hums. “Too much going on.”

Emmet hums, a bit of a laugh showing through.

“You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I won’t,” Ingo promises.

“I don’t believe you,” Emmet says, shutting off the sink. The clean dishes sit on the rack, dripping water. Emmet wipes his hands with a dish towel. “You know, you should be resting if your engine isn’t working at full capacity. Rest is very important”

“Can’t be a well oiled machine with nowhere to go,” Ingo says, folding his arms. “I don’t understand why I don’t have the energy to move anymore.”

“Does the why matter?” Emmet asks. He’s leaning against the counter now, a mirror to Ingo, like he often was to Emmet. It was a natural progression—one following after the other, a mirror, a shadow, a doppleganger.

“It matters a little,” Ingo shrugs. “It matters to me. It gives me a reason.”

“Your reason is that you’ve gone through a lot,” Emmet says, pushing away from the counter. He scoops up his x-transceiver from the table, moving around it and through the apartment as he talks. “Your reason is that your body is playing catch-up with the world around you.”

“Maybe,” Ingo huffs.

“I am Emmet,” says his brother. “I am tired. I don’t sleep well. Do you think it’s my fault that I’m tired and don’t sleep well?”

Ingo grits his teeth. He hates this part—ever since they were little, Emmet would flip this hypocritical card, showing Ingo exactly how stupid he was sounding. It was good, for the most part, because Emmet was right and next time Emmet did the same thing, Ingo could follow suit with that card. But it was so annoying watching it now, watching Emmet throw open the blinds and shimmy open the window for the fire escape. A tinged-cool spring breeze filters in through the open window, tossing the curtains aside. Emmet keeps moving as Ingo thinks, the gears in his head turning slowly, still dulled with sleep. 

“No,” Ingo says shortly, watching Emmet rearrange coasters on the coffee table, setting game controllers back into their docks. “I don’t think anything is your fault.”

“Well now you are just flattering me, Go-Go.”

“Don’t say that flattery never got anyone anywhere,” Ingo says, pointing at him, waving his finger. Emmet laughs.

“My point is,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “You’re allowed to rest. We can figure out the steps from there, right? Even if we’re sitting on the couch to do it.”

Ingo sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Even if I fall asleep?”

Emmet nods, still smiling a little.

“I will wake you if you do.”

Ingo huffs out a laugh, feeling the edges of his mouth quirk up. As Emmet sits on the soft, corduroy couch, Ingo feels himself pulled forward, as if recalled, to sit beside him. He brings his knees up as he settles into his familiar spot between the back and arm of the couch. 

“Do you promise you’ll shake me awake?” Ingo says, leaning his head against the back of the couch. Emmet scrunches his nose.

“Yes,” he says, knocking his knuckles into Ingo’s knee. “I do. But I’m going to watch Alakazam! so you can think without my talking.”

Ingo nods. The television hums to life quietly in the background.

Emmet always watches Alakazam! at 9am. At least, when he can catch it. Ingo watches the last few minutes of the previous game show, something quiet and low despite the flash of colors and excited spread of energy. As the show starts, he watches Emmet’s face shift, that serious pull to his mouth and the furrow of his eyebrows that Ingo only sees when they’re battling. To see that spark again, not knowing how long it’s been gone, turns a question in Ingo’s mind.

“Emmet,” he says.

“Yes, I am Emmet,” Emmet says. “You are Ingo. What do you need?”

“I think I've got an idea of what I want to do today.”

Emmet turns his head a bit, looking at Ingo mostly out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flick back and forth between Ingo’s face and the television, waiting for his program to start.

“Mm?” Emmet asks. Ingo smiles a bit, a laugh stuck behind his teeth.

He sees the glint in Emmet’s eye before he even asks his question.

“What about a pokemon battle?”

[mintaikk]

Me reading a fic where the person had an identidy realization that they were in he aroace spectrum and now they were figuring themselves out(I finally found something that understood me and a romance I could relate to after all these years)