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mrs-mquve-cc · 11 months

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Sims Tag

I was tagged by @esotheria-sims!

1. What’s your favourite sims death?

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever let a sim die 😆 Not only do I not actually play the game very often, I’m just too attached to my sims. But if I had to choose it’d be death by cowplant.

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match?

Alpha/semi-realistic till the day I die!

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight?

Nah, that’s unnecessary.

4. Do you use move objects?

ALWAYS.

5. Favorite mod?

@lamare-sims‘ Shiftable Everything! I love to decorate, and this was a TOTAL game-changer for me.

6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got?

I bought The Sims 2 Deluxe in 2007. I still get confused with what came with the base game and what came with Nightlife because I’ve always had NL 😅

7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing?

Like LIVing. I seem to be in the minority on this but whatever.

8. Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

Laegrinna, of course! I’m sure everyone who follows me knows already but she’s the sim pictured in this post and in my avatar. She’s the protagonist of a game called Deception IV: Blood Ties.

9. Have you made a simself?

Yep, I do have one, you can see her in my 40th birthday post from last year. I gave her graying hair then to be more accurate. I did play as her a few times but it felt kind of weird so she just roams around my hood.

10. What sim traits do you give yourself?

I don’t use the traits mod but if I did, it’d probably be Absent-Minded, Perfectionist, Cat Person, Eccentric, and Socially Awkward.

11. Which is your favorite EA hair color?

I don’t use EA colors or textures, obviously, but I hate them all, especially the pee yellow blonde 😂

12. Favorite EA hair?

I don’t use EA hairs, but the only one I even remotely like is the Mansion & Garden dreads band hair. I might try to do something texture-wise with it at some point.

(Editing to say HOW THE SHIT DID I FORGET LAEGRINNA’S HAIR *facepalm* yeah it’s the Modern Bob from the EA store. As for hairs shipped with the game see above)

13. Favorite life stage?

I only play adults because I’m boring lol

14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

I dunno, I spend way more time creating and taking pics than I do playing. I’m awful at building but I do enjoy it and like I said I love decorating.

15. Are you a CC creator?

Yep, have been for almost 8 years now! I’ve made a ridiculous amount of CC, mostly hairs but I think I enjoy retexturing clothing and objects a bit more. I’ve just started learning meshing and it’s opened up so many new possibilities for me. I have an endless list of future projects!

16. Do you have any simblr friends/a sim squad?

I have a few. I’m not popular in the community or anything and my social skills are lacking but I do like interacting with other simmers.

17. What’s your favorite game? (1, 2, 3, or 4)

Sims 2 forever!

18. Do you have any sims merch?

Nope.

19. Do you have a YouTube for sims?

No and I don’t think I’d be good at making videos in general.

20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing?

It’s gotten much more eccentric and I’ve leaned harder into semi-realism despite most people playing Maxis Match the past 10+ years. I love goth/alternative CC and incorporated a lot more into my game when I created the Deception IV sims. It’s funny because it seems like people’s tastes get more mainstream as they age, but it’s exactly the opposite for me. I look at my old CC and the way I used to dress and make up my sims and think “wow was I boring back then.” The current aesthetic of my game more accurately reflects my personality.

21. What’s your Origin ID?

Bold of you to assume I use Origin 😂

22. Who’s your favorite CC creator?

Too many to list here! I’m a CC hoarder.

23. How long have you had a simblr?

7 years, almost as long as I’ve been creating.

24. How do you edit your pictures?

I do minimal editing, partially because I’m not very good at it and also because with CC previews I want people to see exactly what they’re getting. I use Pooklet’s game lighting actions, I’m careful with how much light I use when taking the pics in-game because it’s easier to brighten a screenshot than fix an overexposed one (Laegrinna’s white hair is particularly prone to overexposure). I brighten the subjects of the picture a bit more and darken the background a little so they stand out. But that’s really it.

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack do you want next?

Well, we’re not getting anything else for TS2 anyway, and I don’t even know what else I’d want because there’s so many fun mods out there that add to the game.

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far?

That’s a tough one - I love playing witches (Laegrinna and her sister Velguirie are both evil witches) so Apartment Life is up there, but I also love playing businesses and having my sims go out on the town so I couldn’t imagine playing without OFB or Nightlife.

I’m going to tag @furbyq, @focalor-sims, @equinoxts2, @pooklet, @skulldilocks, @letomills, and @phoebe-twiddle!

#fia.jpg #the usual gang of idiots #sim: laegrinna

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

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🐈‍Aizawa HC’s🐈‍

I dunno if people will care for this; I suspect my HC's for Aizawa are a little off the fandom norm. Still. I tried. Things get approximately NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He has like, one discernible change of clothes per season. There is no distinction between hero outfit, casual wear, and pajamas. That fabric used to be black. It is now an exhausted shade of ‘please stop washing me.’ If you suggest that he buy new clothes, he will stare you down like you have three heads, and none of those heads have a brain.

This man does not spend money. He has a mind-blowing amount of savings, but no one will ever know until he dies and wills it all to a random animal shelter in the middle of nowhere. Has a secret scholarship fund for UA students. Again, this is completely anonymous. Only the principal knows.

He's a startlingly competent sketch artist. Nothing fancy, and he never took an art class in his life, but his quirk innately lends itself to spacial reasoning and feature recognition. He has sketch books brimming with sloppy but pin-point accurate life drawings. He can capture your soul in three strokes of a dried-up ballpoint pen. It's eerie.

Given his schedule, you’d expect him to prioritze convenience first, but junk food makes him cross-eyed. His body is a temple and he eats like a fucking monk.

He’s a wine snob. Well, a liquor snob generally. He knows the name of every regional sake-maker in Japan, and can tell you exactly which bottle is the best, down the the month of production. Assumes everyone possesses such laser-focused knowledge.

Tea drinker. Yeah, he has encyclopedic knowledge about that too. Apparently everything this man drinks comes with a bibliography.

Technically he’s supposed to live in the UA dorms part of the time. He sleeps poorly there, and goes home whenever he has the opportunity.

His house is old, but not valuable. Probably inherited. Traditional style with very few modern updates. He keeps it meticulously clean and does repairs as needed, but the age is still obvious. Everything creaks. You swear the place is haunted but won’t dare admit it aloud - he WILL laugh you out of the house.

There’s a garden but he doesn’t have time to keep it up. He has a lot of memories of the plants in full bloom. Letting it go to seed upsets him more than he lets on.

He has zero personal possessions aside from household appliances, which he meticulously researches and keeps in perfect condition.

Reads an insane amount of books. These mostly come from the library. There’s always a stack near his bed. You have no idea how he finishes them, because every time you see him with a book, he’s asleep with it on his face.

He doesn’t adopt cats so much as just leaves his doors open and lets them freely colonize the place. It’s not his house, it’s theirs. Somehow there's not a single cat hair on anything.

Most of these cats are cuddly little angels; you've never met nicer. But there’s a few beasts in the mix, with battle scars and three legs and a craving for human meat; these are Aizawa’s special favorites.

- - - - -

Dating

Falls for you when he stumbles across you taking care of one of the hideous strays he usually feeds on his route. Doesn’t approach you at first (definitely tries to hide) but the cat is like "mrrr?" and brings you over to him, giving the game away. Traitor.

Will make you pay for your half of everything, down to the last yen. So what if you’ve been together for ten years? You have your own income.

One exception to the above: he’ll never buy you presents but he WILL treat you to lavish meals in dark restaurants with hand-written menus. Don’t mistake this for romance, he just likes the quiet atmosphere and excellent service.

He cleans every day; there’s an unwritten five-dimensional schedule and that schedule is EXACT. Zero time wasted. He’ll never actually ask you to help with any of it. He’ll never directly thank you, either. But if you learn how to take over certain chores and do the daily upkeep while he’s away, he’ll love you forever.

Not the type to talk about his day; he’d rather sit with you outside. He values silence. Not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, but a lot of the time he doesn’t have the energy to give you his full conversational attention. Physical contact is easier, and more comforting besides. Just... hold his hand a while.

His scalp gets tingly and sore from overusing his quirk. If you run your fingers through his hair he will pass out instantly.

He will cozy trap you. He’s touch-starved and was definitely a cat in a past life. Will hang all over you if you don't give him enough attention and constantly falls sleep in your lap. Hope you don’t need to get up anytime soon; he’s not moving.

You don’t exactly ‘move in’ with him. He never wants to spend a night without you, but his living space is already exactly how he likes it. He will never move out of that old house, but he’ll give you some rooms to yourself. Your stuff and his... complete absence of stuff... stay pretty much separate. Do NOT clutter up the bedroom.

The kitchen is the exception. That's a warm and cozy shared spot, the heart of the home. You’ll always be stepping around a cat.

He LOVES when you cook for him (so that he doesn't have to take the time). Will shower you with praise and encourage you to make huge earthenware vats of old-timey tsukemono that the two of you cannot possibly eat by yourselves. He’ll help with food prep and knows his way around, but he insists you’re the better cook (even if you aren’t).

Big on actions over words. Makes an effort to be present with you as much as he can.

Will stare into your eyes until you look away. When you look back, he's still staring with a rare warm smile on his face.

God, he loves you. You will never, ever know how much. He doesn't tell you often, but he shows you every day.

- - - - -

Somnophilia???.........

ACE ACE ACE ACE

This man is A-fucking-sexual. He’s not sex repulsed in any way, he’s just not personally invested.

Aromantic too. Deadass doesn’t get the hype. You are the most important person in his life and he’s deeply commited to and comforted by you. Just don’t expect to be seduced; it will literally never happen.

If you are allosexual, he will still be devoted to your sexual well-being. At first, that means buying you a DELUXE toy and encouraging you to use it on your own.

His voice is too damn sexy, even when he isn’t trying. He’ll give you all the phone sex you want; he thinks it’s sweet how you unravel for him. Edging you for ages is a fun little power play, but he’s definitely grading papers while he does it. Don’t be offended. Toshinori has overheard some THINGS.

When your relationship gets sufficiently serious, he’ll help out with his hands. He’s VERY SKILLED AT IT. He likes to lay down next to you and whisper encouragement in your ear. Eventually he gets possessive about your orgasms, and will make you ask for permission.

Sometimes the stars align, but his arousal is a rare bird. He'll take a whole afternoon to prepare. It’s love-making, full stop. Always slow and intensely emotional. He'll cherish every inch of you but might not cum at all; you can’t force it.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa sensei #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #gender neutral #aizawa headcanons #bnha #mha #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #fred writes

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dershloop · 3 years

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Title: Burning Pile

Words: 2410

Ship: Lava

Warnings: depressive episode, mentions of worthlessness. i wrote this based off od how my own depressive episodes tend to happen/come about so this might not be accurate to everyone so dont start yelling at me if its not "how depression is for you" anyone who says that will be blocked. its more of a comfort fic to get me through the last week of school.

Cole yawned, throwing his bag on the floor and rolling his shoulders, feeling them pop satisfyingly. Finally, he was home. Rubbing his eyes; cracking his neck and feeling his limbs come alive once more. He hated long car rides, they cramped his limps and make him travel sick. That’s the problem being tall and large; the back of cars wasn’t made to accommodate you. Jay kept telling him to learn to drive himself, but he didn’t have the time. Being a ninja was surprisingly hard work, with little time in between to learn to drive. He’d just have to make do.

“Oh Cole, hey dude, forgot you were coming back today,” Jay said, walking into the room, leaning against the counter, a strange look contorting his face, “How’s your dad?”

“Not too bad. Still pretty insistent on me being a good singer. Apparently, I just have to ‘dig deep. Something tells me he’s never going to back off with it,” Cole said with a laugh, Jay laughed, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, “Are you ok man? You seem… I dunno. Off,” Jay’s face fell, his mouth scrunching nervously.

“You’re gonna be so pissed I didn’t tell you but… Kai’s not ok, he-”

“Wait what? What happened, where is he?’ Cole said frantically, his face falling in panic.

“I don’t- I don’t know dude! He’s barely been leaving his room, I don’t think he’s showered all week and I’ve barely seen him eat anything. We’ve tried to give him stuff and made him drink some water but-” Jay didn’t get a chance to finish, Cole pushed past him, dashing to his boyfriend’s room. From what he could gather, this had started a week ago. When he’d left. He hadn’t had a depressive episode in months now; had him leaving been the catalyst for all this? He was sure he’d been careful, he’d texted him every day. Even if they hadn’t called, he hadn’t asked. Besides, his dad didn’t know about them yet, he didn’t want to accidentally come out because of a phone call. Either way, if Kai had been in a bad way he hadn’t seemed like it. Apart from not asking to call, he’d seemed relatively normal. No slow replies. No giving texts. Nothing.

Cole softly knocked on Kai’s bedroom door, though it seemed pointless. No matter the response, he was going in there.

“What?” A hoarse voice called from inside the room. Kai’s hoarse voice. Cole opened the door, staring in awe at the state of the room. It was… messy to say the least. Clothes were scattered across the floor, making it so you couldn't even see the carpet. Mugs and glasses and bowls and plates littered around, just extra obstacles to the already high-staked trek to Kai’s bed.

“I’ve told you guys, leave me alone!” Kai yelled pushing himself up from his flat position on the bed, twisting his head around and staring at Cole, slightly gone out. His face fell when he realised who it was, staring at him solemnly from his position in the doorway.

“You’re back,” He murmured, twisting himself around fully so he was looking at Cole. Properly this time.

“Yeah,” Cole said softly, stepping carefully around the rubble and decay scattered all over the floor, sitting down on Kai’s bed when he finally got to it, “What… What happened?”

Kai shrugged, not looking at Cole. His hair was slicked back, matted to his skull with grease. Pimples beginning to form on his face, the lack of skincare irritating his delicate skin. Cole would be lying if he said he didn’t look gross and smell just as bad, but that didn’t put him off. Obviously, something was wrong, what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t do anything.

“I just… started feeling empty. I don’t care about anything and I have no motivation to do anything but… I didn’t want to be a burden, and I knew that if you suspected anything you’d come back so I just played it cool. Half expected one of them to tell you but… I guess they didn’t want you cutting your trip short for me either,” He muttered sadly, still not making eye contact. He couldn't. Not in this state. He was disgusting. His breath stunk like he’d just eaten something that’d been dead for a while and he probably stunk like something that’d been dead for a while too. Despite barely leaving his bed, his face was gaunt, his cheekbones beginning to further protrude, this time to an unhealthy degree and his eye sagging, purple eyebags hanging down as if weighing down his entire soul.

“Oh firefly,” Cole mumbled, opening his arms and wrapping them around Kai’s shoulders and pulling him close, feeling as Kai slowly relaxed into his body, not moving his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Kai said softly into Cole’s chest.

“For what?”

“Not telling you. Lying to you.”

“I don’t care. You have nothing to be sorry for, you weren’t in the right headspace and still aren’t. But I’m home now, so I’ll help you get out of this. Have you been taking your meds?” Cole said, still speaking in hushed tones. He wasn’t 100% sure why, but it seemed to be comforting to him, so he continued doing it.

Kai shook his head slowly, knowing he was about to get lectured.

“Ok, that’d explain a lot. Let’s start with that then,” Cole said simply, standing up and looking down at Kai.

“What?” He said, confused as Cole looked down at him expectantly.

“Come on. I’m taking you to take your medication,” Cole stated, holding out his hand, “If I bring ‘em to you, you’ll not feel any better.” Kai sighed and took his hand, letting his boyfriend’s strong form pull him out of bed. He slumped over slightly, his legs barely able to keep him standing. Letting his arm hang limply, his hand barely holding Coles, they walked out of his room and to the kitchen. He wasn’t 100% sure he was even in the room with him, his mind fuzzing in and out of focus from his surroundings. One moment, he was in the kitchen with his boyfriend. Next, he was in his head, letting his thoughts run wild. The latter was less than ideal; especially without the prescribed dosage of antidepressants in his system; but he didn’t have the energy to care.

“Ok,” Cole said, putting 2 small pills down in front of Kai along with a cup of water, “Take them.” Kai nodded, letting go of Cole’s hand and picked up the tablets, sloppily placing them in his mouth and swallowing them with the cool water. It felt heavenly, rolling down his dry throat and even drier tongue, giving them a new lease of life.

“Better?” Cole said softly, taking Kai’s hand back in his own. Kai shrugged, leaning against Cole and closing his eyes.

“Don’t bother going back to sleep on my arm, there’s more,” Cole continued, firmly but lovingly. Kai knew it was for his own good but… he just wanted to get back in bed. There was an immovable weight on his chest, dragging him down and increasing the effort to keep himself upright. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could actually stay stood up.

“Ok, have you had something to eat today?” Cole asked, taking Kai’s other hand and looking at him softly. Kai nodded, looking back, but not quite meeting Cole’s eyes. His heart twisted with every beat in his chest; his stomach turning in knots. He knew he couldn’t give in and let him go back to bed- he’d never feel better while he’s in this state- but the look in his eyes. It was so… void. So tired. So… emotionless. Yet full of emotion. Twisting and turning. Hurt, anger, sadness and an utter lack of anything positive.

“Ok. In that case, only 2 more things. We’re gonna brush your teeth and shower,” Cole said, Kai’s face falling in desperation. Evidently, he didn’t want to do either of those things; but Cole knew full well that he wouldn’t do it of his own volition.

“Please, firefly. We can watch a movie or something after that. I just… want you to feel better. I’m doing this for your own good. Plus, I’ll help you. I won’t get in the shower with you, but if you need help with anything I’ll stay in the bathroom while you’re in there. Just… how about this. Just wash your hair. Then I can put some deodorant on you and wipe your face. Are you ok with that?” Kai nodded in response, eliciting a small smile from Cole.

“Good. I’m so insanely proud of you Kai, for working with me here. I know how hard it can be when you get like this so I know how much it’s taking for you to do this right now. So, I’m insanely proud of you for actually going along with me,” Cole said sincerely, raising his free hand and resting it on Kai’s cheek. Kai leant into his hand and smiled a small, but tired, smile, raising his own hand and resting it on top of Cole’s.

Walking towards the bathroom, Kai took a reluctant breath and stepped inside, Cole following soon after. Cole turned the water on, pulling the mildly disgusting shirt off of Kai and tossing it into the laundry basket, letting him take off his boxers. Slowly stepping into the shower, Kai winced as the hot water hit his skin, cascading down his body and washing any surface-level grime away. His arms were lead; his eyelids hanging heavily over his eyes. He couldn’t do this.

“Cole,” He said weakly, not moving from under the warm water, “I want to get out.”

“Come on Kai, don’t give up now,” Cole replied softly, moving towards the shower and opening the curtain, seeing the exhausted look in his eyes, “I’ll wash your hair. How about that?” Kai nodded slowly. Cole smiled, pulling his own shirt over his head and discarding it to the side, reaching around his boyfriend and grabbing the shampoo, making sure Kai’s hair was wet enough before applying any. He slowly massaged it into his skull, looking down from his hair to Kai every so often to give him a comforting smile. Kai sighed contently, feeling the first bout of comfort; and even the first sliver of joy; in days. The feeling of Cole’s fingers on his head… knowing he was here and he was ok and alive. He was alive. Cole was here. The steady scratching and rubs keeping him grounded.

Quickly washing the shampoo out of Kai’s hair and turning off the water, Cole smiled, taking Kai’s hand again and leading him out and towards the sink. Cole grabbed his robe from the back of the door, bundling Kai up in it to assure he stayed warm. Cole laughed a little, looking down at Kai’s short, thin figure wrapped in his large robe, like a baby in a teenagers coat.

“What?”

“You just look really cute. You know like when a little kid just gets out of the shower. Their hair’s all slicked back and their bathrobe is about 10 sizes too big?” Kai blushed and crinkled his brow indignantly.

“I do not look like a child, not all of us were blessed to be 6 foot you know,” He huffed, pulling the robe around himself tighter.

“Yes, you do! You’re my cute little baby boy!” Cole said enthusiastically, noticing the smallest of sparkes light up in Kai’s eyes again as he glared indignantly at his boyfriend. With a laugh, Cole grabbed Kai’s toothbrush, putting some toothpaste on it and splattering it with water.

“Open up baby boy!” Cole said with a grin. Kai rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, allowing him to quickly brush his teeth. Grabbing a face wipe from the cupboard, he gently scrubbed the grease off of his boyfriend’s face. Then, finally, he grabbed a can of deodorant and sprayed him all over, banishing any thought of odour away from their minds (and bodies). Cole grabbed his shirt from the spot on the floor where it had landed earlier and pulled it back over his head.

“Hair drying time now,” Cole said, grabbing a clean towel from the cupboard and laying it over Kai’s wet hair, gently beginning to rub it, dragging the worst of the moisture out. Kai sighed in contentment, feeling himself shake and move as Cole dried his hair, the rough towel feeling heavenly as it dragged along his scalp, massaging any worries or unnecessary emotions away. Now all he felt was a deep feeling of peace and quiet.

“Damn, I’ll rub your head more often, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy,” Cole said with a laugh, continuing to softly rub his head with the towel, unable to contain his laughter at the small noises of contentment coming from Kai. Eventually, he took the towel back off his head and smiled down at his boyfriend, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“Now we just need to get you some clothes, then it’s dumb movie time,” Kai smiled, his lips softly curving into a smile; a real one.

“Can I wear your clothes?” he said softly, his voice still hoarse from barely speaking this last week.

“Of course firefly, it’d be rude of me not to!” Cole said lightly, taking his hand and leading him to his room, immediately grabbing his largest hoodie and sweatpants. He helped Kai put them on and stared down at him in awe.

“You. Are. So. Damn. Small!” Cole said happily, looking at his boyfriend’s small frame being taken over by his large clothing.

“No, you’re just too big,” Kai said indignantly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the hoodie.

“You know I mean it lovingly, you just look too cute in my clothes,” Cole gleamed, his face lighting up in pure delight. Kai said nothing, just let out a small giggle, his face glowing crimson.

“Now come! My sweet little baby boy! We shall watch dumb movies made for people 10 years younger than us until you feel better!” Cole exclaimed, sweeping Kai off his feet and holding him bridal style, carrying him towards his own room where he dumped him on the bed, turning on the TV and preparing for at least a day of watching weird movies and enjoying each others company.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago kai smith #ninjago cole #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago lava #lavashipping #ninjago kai/cole #kai/cole #ninjago fic #dersh’s fics

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samwrights · 3 years

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➳ » 𝕞𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤 «

⤷ ℂℍ𝔸ℙ𝕋𝔼ℝ 𝟞.𝟝𝟘—missed calls

» warnings and stuff

Language, written portion and the moment you’ve all been waiting for

» playlist is here

»»————-　 ✿ ♡ ✿ 　————-««

As carefully as you can, you tiptoe past a sleeping Matsukawa in the living room and make your way down the hall directly in front of you. Dim lights from the city streets illuminate the walls of the apartment, allowing you to see the door that you perceive to lead to Hanamaki’s room—the only room with a light still on. Still trying to keep quiet, you rap on the door with a nail, hopefully loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough not to disturb the sleeping patrons.

With equal caution, the knob turns before the door is pulled slightly ajar, just enough for Hanamaki to grab you by the wrist and drag you in.

“What’s that face for?” He grimaces when he sees the stupefied look you’re wearing. “Did you really think I was just gonna let you sleep on the floor?” Grumbling to yourself, you toss your overnight bag onto the floor near the doorway, hoping you didn’t have anything in there that was particularly fragile.

The strawberry-brunette resumes what you assume was his previous position—resting on his queen-sized mattress that had the covers made up while you stood on edge before him. The fuck were you supposed to do? You didn’t know—it was the reason you had even called Terushima in the first place.

Listen to what your heart tells you.

Taking a moment to come to terms with the fact that you were standing in Hanamaki Takahiro’s bedroom, you glance all around the stylized space. You could faintly make out that the walls were a rich navy blue and he had an affinity for gold accents, but most of that was hidden underneath what was probably thousands of drawings. From the first Christmas gift he had given you, you knew art had been a hobby of his, but this?

This was far beyond your imagination.

The wall to your right was littered with flash sheets of various themes, large paintings that echoed to his neo-traditional style, quick sketches and doodles, as well as a large, weekly calendar that served as a planner for his work schedule. Flowers, as it seemed, was one of his specialities. Every work of art had a floral accent that screamed of his signature, regardless of how rugged the piece might have been.

To your left was a simple white desk that housed his laptop, tablet, and a few floating shelves that held various sentimental knickknacks. Your hands reach over to grab the dusty golden pocket watch you’d given him for secret Santa in your third year, not even needing to search for it on the shelf—it screamed its presence all on its own. Albeit hesitantly, you gather the courage to sit next to him on the empty space in his bed, mimicking his posture with your back resting against the grey, tufted headboard. “You really couldn’t open this fucking thing?” You ask, holding it up between the two of you before letting it lay flat in your palm, offering it towards the former wing spiker.

“The clasp didn’t work and I didn’t wanna break it.” His nimble fingers take the pocket watch, clicking the clasp that made repeated noises to signify it should open. However, the lid remained shut. Hanamaki shrugs before handing it back to you, turning away so he can hide the overwhelming bubble of emotions boiling in his chest.

You were here.

In Sendai.

In his apartment.

In his bed.

Right next to him.

And the thought that he couldn’t do anything about it was killing him.

Abruptly, you get up from his bed and carefully step towards your overnight bag. Unzipping it, you pull out a small, thin pocket knife that Daichi made sure went with you everywhere before sitting back down next to Makki. Maybe it was you feeding off the anxiety he was putting into the air, but you hesitated on prying the watch open for the first time. “The guy I sent it to for engraving must have ruined the clasp,” you muttered as you forced the tip of the knife at the seam of the watch. Your mind was relentlessly speeding at several hundred miles an hour, unsure of what was to unfold.

Once you opened this watch, everything was laid out on the table.

The pocket watch was meant to be a symbolic confession of the love you held for this man in your younger years—held?

The past tense didn’t seem to be accurate.

Your nail holds down the clasp as you gingerly twist the knife, breaking the inner mechanisms of it and allowing the golden pocket watch to show the custom engraving you had gotten for it. Hanamaki reaches for it, but you yank it away before he can read the inscription.

“Makki...” you whimper out, unsure of how to proceed, “Hiro, what comes after this?” From the corner of your eye, you can see one of his large hands tugging at his slightly longer locks in frustration.

“I dunno, yn. We won’t know until we move forward.” The trembling watch in your shaky hands like an unsteady rhythm of a snare drum as you cautiously place the slightly ajar watch in his hand. Much to his chagrin, the pocket watch no longer worked, the ticking dying down after a couple years. Not that Hanamaki had even noticed in the first place, his own wallowing drowning out the noise back when it had still moved. “‘After all this time, it’s still you’,” he reads aloud, calloused pads of his fingers tracing the inscription and stopping when they reached your initials.

Then he laughs.

He laughs so hard that he all but falls off his bed, not slightest bit concerned at the volume of it, as he clutches the gift to his chest.

“H-hey, don’t laugh!” The tips of your fingers snap against his bare arm as you back hand him, though there’s no real force to your playful strike.

“I’m not laughing at the gift. I’m laughing because...” Makki pauses, fixing himself up so he could face you. “Because it hurts that this is how this all comes out.” There’s a deep cloud that settles over his grey eyes, the pain in them swirling black into the stone. Meeting his eyes, you gnash on your lip, subconsciously grabbing at your sunflower necklace. “You kept it...”

“I’d never get rid of it.” There’s a thick silence much denser than what’s hanging in the air, though neither of you are unsure if you should break it, or even how to. Steely grey eyes drop to where your hand cradles the necklace, reaching out to run his fingers over the back of your hand. Your muscles tense at the touch, dropping the pendant and allows him to hold the golden sunflower.

“So what now?” Takahiro’s voice barely comes out as a whisper, the pads of his fingers still tracing every ridge in the pendant. He won’t look at you—not right now; he can’t. His control is wearing thin and it takes every ounce of him to not be selfish, just this once. But at the end of the day...

At the end of the day, he loved you.

And he would never do a single thing to intentionally upset you, regardless of how much he wanted to close the gap between you and finally feel your lips on his.

“I-I don’t know, Hiro. I’ve never given this particular scenario much thought.”

“I have,” he says immediately. Despite the self-control he’s exercising at the moment, his mouth moves faster than his brain. Hanamaki pulls his hand away from your necklace, finally, opting to rest it on his belly before the thin threads of his self-control snapped.

“Yeah? And how do you see this playing out?”

“Honestly? You rolling over and going to sleep and nothing changing.”

Huh?

You turn to your side, removing yourself from the headboard to rest on your elbow while you face him. What was that supposed to mean? That he had moved on and that you were reading too much into the moment? Shit, wait why were you reading into it in the first place? The feelings you once had—past tense—were exactly that: of the past.

Right?

“Yn,” Makki mirrors your position, resting on his own elbow while his free hand gingerly cradles the space between your shoulder and neck, “we can’t move forward if we’re stuck dwelling on the past. So...” the strawberry-brunette closes his narrow eyes slowly, long lashes dancing along the tops of his cheekbones as he does so. Rather than opening his eyes, however, he leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. You’re vaguely aware of the various spots in his body pulsating, drumming with blaring volume that you swear will wake the whole apartment. “I love you, and I will always love you. But, I came to terms with it a long time ago, that you aren’t mine to love. And I can’t ask you to just up and leave your life just because I’m no longer afraid to tell you I love you, that’s not fair.”

It feels like nails are piercing your throat, your own heavy heartbeat the hammer pushing them deeper and deeper into your chords. Nearly a decade you had waited to hear that this man returned your feelings, and here he was with his forehead pressed against yours doing just that. All while you were engaged to someone else.

Someone you’d fallen so hard and so fast for—a complete one-eighty from the way you’d slowly cultivated your affection for Hanamaki Takahiro.

“None of this is fair.” Before you had time to process the scenario, warm, silent streams of tears clump at your mascara-clad lower lashes before spilling past the dam. You inhale a shaky breath, closing your eyes to match Makki, exhaling forcefully because you can’t fucking breathe.

Perhaps it’s the trepidation in your breath or the rattling of your bones against his that causes Takahiro to pull away, opening his eyes. It almost felt like looking towards the sun, he muses, until he sees your crying form just below him. Instinctually, he wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your smaller frame is tucked underneath his chin. “Hey, hey. No crying,” he attempts to soothe, his large hand roaming the cloth covering your side, “there’s no reason to cry, yn. As long as you’re happy.”

Maybe that was why you were crying?

Were you happy with Daichi? And if you were, why was that the second time of the night that you were questioning it?

“W-what do you want, Makki?” You ask quietly, hoping his answer will offer some sort of solace or guidance. Instead, he squeezes just a little bit tighter before relaxing his arm to hold you like a fragile China doll.

“Nuh uh,” he tuts, “this is about you and what you want. I will not let anything I have to say about what I want be any sort of influence.”

Part of you is grateful for that because maybe you don’t have to be the one to wonder what would happen if you left Daichi. Or if you got up and just drove to your parents right now. Or if you decided to indulge yourself for one night. There was no pressure, no hidden agenda to force you into a precarious situation. But if there’s anything you want to do at all in this moment, it’s the fact that you want to tell him for real, so that he can hear it from your lips. “I love you,” you whisper out, curling deeper into his chest so maybe—just maybe—he won’t actually hear you, “and I’m so sorry I waited too long to say it.”

“I’m glad to hear it, even now.”

The two of you remained entangled with one another, your tears and hiccups finally subsiding enough for you to be aware of your current state. You’d probably stained his pillow covers with clumps of black mascara or had it hoarding together in blobs down your face. Even so, neither of you dared to move, enjoying the feeling of being in one another’s company while being enveloped in your own thoughts. Or rather, thought, as in the singular. While you’d pondered the question long before your current state, you took the time to bask in his certainty to wonder what the fuck you did want. Clearly, you hadn’t the faintest clue.

You love Daichi, that’s a fact. He’s passionate and compassionate, he’s the pressure you need to keep you grounded and level-headed. Daichi isn’t afraid to tell you when you’re stepping out of line whether it be going out one too many nights in a row with Terushima or when you’d fallen into a depressive episode and can’t find motivation to do little things like bathe or clean. He keeps you together, despite the broken and dismantled soul you felt you were sometimes. Sawamura Daichi is the present and the future—the matured love you gladly welcomed.

Right?

So why did being in the arms of Hanamaki Takahiro, even in a rather platonic way considering the confessions, feel like a catharsis? Like you’d been drowning further and further into a sea only to finally break the surface and breathe fresh air? Like he was the reason your lungs had been able to inflate and take in oxygen. And the warmth he was bringing to you on a crisp spring evening echoed the comfort of a homemade hot chocolate in front of a fireplace after playing in the snow. Yet, all he had was his arms around you and his head caressing the crown of your scalp, restraining himself from speaking his truth so as to respect your reality. Hanamaki Takahiro was the past—the love of your youth belonging entirely to him.

Maybe you didn’t have to come to a decision right then and there—perhaps thinking it over would be a smarter decision. If anything, your focus should shift to the fact that if you move away from his chest that you’ve precariously buried yourself into, your resolve will crumble.

It’ll crumble, because the only thing you’re certain about in this moment is how much you want to kiss him right now.

But you have to swallow that thought like a bitter, too-big pill and wash it down with limbs wrapped around you carefully as you fall asleep.

»»————-　 ✿ ♡ ✿ 　————-««

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@levinneheart @hoe4hq @veelafyre @its-the-aerieljeane @disgvste @sunflow3rbab3 @kiyoojima @urdads @kuroos-babie @more-stuff-of-pi @dabi-hates-fish @chao01248 @kuroos-roosterhead @cremepuffingwaldio

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣'𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖:

THEY FINALLY CONFESSED. SOUND THE ALARM Y’ALL. also, i don’t know why I totally see Mattsun looking for a cougar. But in all seriousness, I KNOW. You guys want them to live happily ever after already, BUT I really like showing how Makki’s grown up over the years without ya.

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svtskneecaps · 3 years

Text

crew and cast

(gender neutral) reader x jihoon

genre: fluff + some?? angst? listen i tried lmao; words: 2.8k

well howdy @toxicsocial tis i, your tct secret santa. so uh, i can’t actually make people cry in a timely manner and i didn’t figure most people would be down to read like 9k of buildup, so!! the angst is minimal!!! but i tried really hard and i hope you like it i love you so much also i forgot to title it again until right now so don’t look at it too hard

You loved your high school’s theatre crew. From freshman year they’d been a staple in your life. It was refreshingly stable to be able to walk into the tech room anytime and reliably know what would be going on. Except, there was one thing about theatre you couldn’t stand: Lee Jihoon. You’d avoided him since freshman year, but unfortunately for you, you’d taken over the position of Run Crew Head and Prop Master, and he was the Student Director. You were forced to sit through every production meeting with him.

Which, fine. You’d do anything for the show to run well. But that didn’t change the fact that he made you want to commit a crime.

Or three.

“Great news guys!” you yelled, sweeping into the tech room. “The crutches still aren’t right and Jihoon wants us to repaint the brickwork on the platforms to be less ‘garish’ and the typewriter is from the 1940s when it should be from the 1890s and I’m going to set something on fire!”

Chan slammed his head against the nearest cabinet. “This is the third time he’s rejected the brickwork, oh my god.”

“Fourth time he’s hated the crutches too, and I’ve told him that the only period accurate typewriter in the basement is literally one wrong keystroke from breaking onstage but I guess he’s willing to take that risk for a typewriter that’s going to be in one scene.” You massaged your forehead. “I’m gonna stay late Wednesday so we can have our shit together by Hell Week.”

“I’ll have to join.” Chan peeled his head off the cabinet, cracking his knuckles. “You think Mingyu’s got time to spare? I might get him to help; there’s way too much platform for me to do in time.”

“Dunno, he’s pretty busy.” Vernon scooped a loose screw out of a sawdust pile and swept the whole thing into the dustpan. “Makeup’s been working hard to get the ‘ragged urchin’ look right.”

“I’ll con Soonyoung into it then, I don’t think they’re rehearsing the dance numbers tomorrow so he might be free.”

“I wish you luck with that, dude.” You scooped the crutch off the floor. “I gotta go beg costumes to let me into the basement storage and see if there’s another goddamn piece of fabric I can use for the crutches.”

“You have fun.”

You ended up getting lucky; Minghao already needed to go down there so you wouldn’t have to fight for cell signal to make sure you were allowed to deface the cloth scraps you’d found.

“You seem stressed,” he noted as he unlocked the basement door.

You snorted. “Stressed is an understatement.”

“Jihoon again?”

“If he tells me to redo the damn crutches again I’m going to nail him to the wall.”

Minghao lead the way down the stairs. “I really thought you had it that time.”

“Nothing is good enough for that guy.”

He shrugged. “He just wants the show to go well.”

“Yeah, well, so do I. He doesn’t have to get up everybody’s ass sticking his opinions where they don’t belong. He’s never been crew, why does he get to make us repaint the entire damn set anyway?”

“He’s the director.”

“Everyone else thought the bricks looked fine!”

Minghao looked at you sideways. “What’s your deal with Jihoon?”

“Like I said, poking his nose where it doesn’t--”

“No, you had beef before he got appointed Student Director.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. He’s always kind of been a pain even when he was ensemble.” You drove your finger into your temple. “And he broke a crucial prop that wasn’t his the night before the show opened and didn’t tell me.”

“You did props?”

“Buddy I was Prop Master. I literally didn’t find out until the Stage Manager tried to run that scene before school.” You glared absently at the shelves of typewriters to one side of the walkway. “I literally had to skip my last three classes and dinner to get a replacement and he never even apologized for it.”

Minghao whistled. “That’s unforgivable.”

“Tell me about it.” You waded through the costume racks to get to the bins of scraps in the back.

“And you’ve never considered forgiving and forgetting? I mean, it’s been two years.”

You sighed, leaning the crutch against a shelf. “I mean. . .”

He snickered. “Come on, it’s just you and me and the ghosts down here, you can say it.”

“I mean. . . he just makes me so mad!” You yanked the lid off a tote with a snap that echoed across the basement. “Like, every time I start thinking maybe he’s not so bad he pulls some other shit on me and I slam right back into hating his goddamn guts.”

“You’re on the same team,” Minghao called down the row. “You’re just trying to make the show better.”

“Making the show better shouldn’t involve painting the entire set three times.”

“I’m just saying, it’d put at least three years back on your lifespan.”

“Yeah yeah.”

You managed to update the crutches by the end of the day, and repainted the entire set on Wednesday--although you had to sacrifice your lunch and free periods and several hours after school to get it all done. Thursday left you with a finished set and another production meeting.

He didn’t like the bricks.

You saw red.

In the hallway, you pulled him aside.

“What don’t you like about the bricks?”

He frowned. “They detract attention from the actors.”

You wanted to seize him by the shoulders and shake him like a maraca. “It’s gray! It is the darkest most nondescript color we have in the buckets and you’re telling me it detracts attention from the actors? You haven’t even seen them rehearse with it!”

“It’s gonna be too much,” he argued. “It’s the same color as half the costumes--”

“I have seen every single costume in the show, it’s not even close to the same pigment!”

“Even still--”

“Listen,” you snapped, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, “if you want the set redone in time for Hell Week then I expect to see you in the goddamn tech room tomorrow after school wearing something you don’t mind getting paint on because I’m not going to make Chan and Vernon repaint the entire damn set by themselves for the fifth time and I have to figure out how to keep that 1890s typewriter from falling apart, do I make myself clear?”

He looked almost disgusted at the prospect, but he nodded stiffly. “Crystal.”

You turned on your heel just as stiffly, striding away before you lost all composure.

To your complete surprise, Jihoon actually showed up the next day, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a shirt so faded that whatever decal had been on the front had long washed away.

“So he arrives!” Chan yelled from his perch on the desk, where he’d been watching you wrestle with the typewriter.

Jihoon looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he squared his shoulders. “Where do you need me?”

“We gotta move all the set pieces in before we start,” Chan said. “Then I’ll probably have you start on the legs. We gotta wait for Vernon before we can move the tall stuff. One sec, I’ll--” he bolted into the hallway.

Jihoon stared after him, then looked to you. “Where is he going?”

“To tell Vernon we’re actually doing the repaint.” You shrugged. “Honestly I’m surprised you showed up.”

“I said I would.”

“Actually you just said you understood the ultimatum; we had no idea if you’d show or not.”

“Oh.”

You shrugged. “Good to have you anyway.”

Chan returned with Vernon before the silence could get too awkward, and you helped them move all the platforms back into the tech room. From there, Vernon set up his speaker and the real work began.

Jihoon helped choose the color of the bricks (and Chan threatened to really break his leg if he changed his mind about it later), and they got to laying down the base coat. You went back to glaring at the typewriter and reading through every antiques article you could find online.

After trying seven different methods to no avail, you shoved your chair away from the desk. “Typewriters are hellspawn created by the Devil himself to punish unfortunate Prop Masters.”

Vernon snickered. “That good, huh?”

“I’m going to put a screwdriver through the keyboard,” you said mildly.

“Okay maybe don’t do that.” Chan paused to pull a clean paintbrush out of his pocket and throw it at you. “You know where the overalls are; come take a break.”

“Why do you just have that?” Jihoon asked.

“A painter is always prepared.”

Jihoon glanced at you. You shrugged. “I don’t question it.”

Between the four of you, you managed to finish all but one platform by the time Chan and Vernon had to go. Being older, you had infinite time, so you cracked your knuckles and sat back at the typewriter. Jihoon lingered in the doorway.

“You need any help?”

You looked up. “Nah, I think I got it. Thank you, though.”

He shifted. “Listen, I know we didn’t really get off on the right foot but, I’m sorry. I know I never really apologized for the prop, and I’m sorry for how long it took, too.”

You sighed. “It’s fine. It’s kind of unfair of me to hold it against you this long anyway, so, I’m sorry too.” It wasn’t the only reason he made you so angry, but that chip on your shoulder made a lot of other offenses you would have normally overlooked seem larger.

“Can we maybe start over?” he asked. “Freshman year all over again?”

You actually found yourself nodding. “As long as you don’t make us repaint the set ever again.”

He laughed, running a paint-stained hand through his hair. “No, I won’t. I can’t do that to your crew again.”

“Good. Cause we weren’t kidding about breaking your legs.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He hiked up his backpack. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“Happy Hell Week.”

Hell Week was hell (and the sky is blue).

Three of the actors lost their voices four days before Opening Night. One of the glasses for the restaurant scene shattered during the dance number--even though it was supposed to be offstage already--and the third lead got very close to twisting her ankle after landing a jump wrong. The actors could never manage to find their light, there were technical glitches with the backstage mics, and you were so on edge that if you heard the word standby you’d jump so bad you’d bruise your knee on the table.

The typewriter gave you more anxiety than it was worth. The actress using it had strict instructions not to actually touch the keys, because the only thing holding it together was gaff tape. You’d put Jun and Wonwoo in charge of bringing the desk it sat on onstage, because you trusted them to have it under control and keep it from tipping, because if it tipped at an angle any more than about 30 degrees, the keys would get out of alignment and that required time and experience to fix, of which you had neither.

Needless to say, you were two steps away from tearing your hair out.

At least you weren’t fighting with Jihoon, though. You’d even gone out to grab takeout with him for dinner, once, and yelling about all the problems in the car was really cathartic and you came back refreshed and relaxed, for once (only for every muscle in your back to clench at once because an actor bumped the prop table in their hurry to get in costume and one of the glasses fell over).

But it was Opening Night, and you were wound tighter than a spring waiting for everything to go wrong.

And it did.

Jihoon was in the hallway behind the stage, giving Joshua a few final notes about his big solo, and he didn’t check his surroundings closely enough. In his wild gesturing to demonstrate the level of enthusiasm, his arm clipped the typewriter.

And it fell.

He stared at it. Joshua stared at it. You could not tear your eyes from it.

The keys had tilted out of alignment. The bar holding the paper was skewed. The decorative paneling to one side had cracked down the middle. You didn’t have time to fix it before it went on. Maybe you couldn’t fix it at all.

“I am so sorry--” Jihoon started, but you stopped him with a hand, balling the other into a fist.

“Don’t,” you forced through your teeth, because you didn’t want to start yelling at him; it was an honest mistake and it was your fault for not resettling it on the desk after the last run. You were just seething with rage, at yourself, at the typewriter--you didn’t want to project it.

“Ten minutes to go!” someone yelled down the hall. You forced yourself to exhale, gingerly picking it up, flinching with every shift of the keys.

“Is there anything I can--”

“Get to the booth. Tell Seungcheol what happened, just-- be in your place. Jun!” you yelled into the tech room. His head jerked up. “I need you to take over headset for me, can you do that?”

His mouth fell open seeing the typewriter and he nodded, wordlessly, leaping to his feet and hurrying backstage.

Jihoon still stood there, looking between the typewriter and you with an anguished expression. “You’re sure you don’t--”

“I got it,” you said again, clipped. “I can handle it. I can-- just get to the booth, Jihoon!”

You hadn’t yelled. You knew enough not to yell when the audience was already in their seats. But your words had the same effect, because he flinched, and he nodded, and he turned the other way and ran.

Your rage was turning inward as fast as it was dulling, but you had a show to put on, so you placed the broken typewriter carefully on a counter in the tech room and sprinted for the basement.

You managed to get the 1970s typewriter back upstairs and on the desk before it went on, and the show went on without a hitch. The actors hit their marks, all the props found their way back to the prop table, and the pit orchestra didn’t have to loop a section for a missed cue even once.

You waited until everyone was gone before you let yourself cry.

“I really am sorry.”

You looked up.

Jihoon stood in the doorway, twisting his hands.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s partially my fault for not making sure it was centered right.” You rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands, hoping to disguise the redness. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Do you want help?”

“I don’t know if it can even be fixed,” you said, staring blankly at the remains of the typewriter in front of you. “It might-- it might be beyond my help.”

For a long moment, you stared at it, mind spiralling.

You pushed yourself up. “They’ll want to lock up.” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll just come in before the show and work on it. Maybe get Jun to grab me some McDonald’s or something and eat during the intermission.”

Jihoon’s brow furrowed. “That’s not healthy.”

“I’ve done it before.” You waved him off. “The show must go on, you know?” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The day came by in flashes as you researched the typewriter with a renewed vigor. You could probably use hot glue and some kind of putty to hide the crack in the paneling, you could probably put the keys back or at the very least tape them to look like they were back, from a distance. The bar at the top would be much harder but you hadn’t really inspected it the night before so maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was?

You didn’t feel particularly hopeful when you stopped by the tech room to pick up the typewriter.

Until you saw the typewriter.

“What the fuck.” It was fixed. The keys aligned, the crack sealed, the bar sitting on top just as it was supposed to be. It looked exactly like it had when you’d first set it on that desk.

Jihoon came around the corner, dried putty staining his hands. “Hey,” he said, seeming tired but absolutely beaming at you.

“Did you do this?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t want you putting your health on the line.”

“Oh my god, thank you. I can’t-- this is incredible!” You kept tracing your fingers over the ridge formed by the sealed crack, but you couldn’t see it.

“I did a good job, then?” He put his hands in his pockets, grinning.

“Better than good, oh my god I could kiss you!”

Your cheeks burned when you realized what you’d said, but he laughed. “Whoa, buy me dinner first.”

“Bet,” you said, accepting it like a challenge. “You pick the place, I’ll pay.”

“Okay,” he said, and then lifted his hands. “I gotta wash up.”

“Meet you by the front door in five?”

“It’s a date.”

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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

Text

Thanks fo’ saving my ass (Part 2)

There is a part 3 coming, I think these two deserve the...culmination, but I wasn’t sure if I could have it ready soon enough. Stay tuned for more, hope you enjoy! x

Part 1 - Part 3*

It starts with a resounding bang. A back curving over maple hardwood; taut muscle stretching soft cotton fabric; twin jades squinted in concentration; a shoulder blade protruding briefly for one swift determining movement. Red, blue, yellow, purple, orange phenolic resin scattering across green worsted wool like a dozen pinballs simultaneously kicked in various directions.

It ends with the deep echo. A ball falling into emptiness before meeting rock-bottom; the release of a soft withheld breath; firm flesh unflexing with satisfaction; two sets of glossy eyes meeting in a knowing look. "Nice break, Styles. Stripes it is," y/n happily comments once Harry leans back from the pool table.

Gibson’s is full of rowdy chatters, tipsy laughs and fulsome smiles. Strangers bonding for a night of undiluted carefreeness, clicking drinks after merry drinks in honor to their new ephemeral best friends. All sorrows have been forsaken on the coat rack at the entrance, hung in insouciance, leaving nothing but good spirits to sit at the tables and loiter near the bar. Everything about this place is warm and nurturing, a cosy embrace after a tedious day, a home for the people that lets them nurse bottles and wounds alike, and sees them leave later on, cheerful, relaxed and healing. It took but a second for Harry to understand why y/n is so fond of the place and he was not surprised to find her on a first-name basis with the barmaid, the two of them catching up on life while she was preparing the drinks.

Now, fifteen minutes in, they’ve happily made their way to the vacant timeworn pool table at a secluded corner of the bar, drinks and grins in toe. The space is only lit up by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling, casting daedal shadows along the walls and across the table’s carpeted surface. The subdued light and music crooning in the background make for a suggestive atmosphere, air thick with limitless curiosity and enticing promises.

The corner of Harry’s lips quirks in a wry smile and a bold glint takes residence at the crease of his eyes; the telltale sign of a burgeoning idea brewing up in his cheeky mind. "What’dya say we make this a lil more interesting?" The offer is served with a raised brow, a hand on his waist, and one foot perched on its toes over the other as he leans against the cue.

From across the pool table, y/n is quite endeared at the sight but her response comes out in fake offense,"oh I’m sorry, am I boring you already?"

"Quite the opposite actually." His head tilts the slightest bit to the side, gaze unwavering from her face in a mission for persuasion.

Her lips grimace as she tries to suppress a betraying smile to no avail, "fine, I’m listening."

He grins victoriously at her inability to keep a straight face, his limbs dislodging from his casual pose. "We take turns," his motions at the space between them. "F’we pocket, we get to ask one question. No bullshit answer, jus’ the truth." His eyes are wide as he gauges her response.

"A question, huh?" she takes her time to contemplate the proposition just to watch him squirm in impatience. "Damn, for a sec I thought you were about to suggest strip-pool." She sends him a playful look as she walks the length of the table to step closer to him and have a better look at his chiseled features.

"I mean, m’totally down but might be a bit unfair on your part," his eyes briefly trail down her body in silent conveyance of her single-piece attire. He’s got much more material to shed before exposing skin than she does.

"Wouldn’t you like to know." The suggestive retort has Harry’s stomach churn with humid passion, the question of just how many layers she’s wearing exactly, playing with the most lascivious parts of his brain. "Not that it matters, you’d be butt-naked before you’d get a nip-slip."

"Overestimating yourself?"

"Just giving you fair warning," she shrugs in nonchalance running her fingers along the edge of the table, "so you know what you’re getting yourself into."

When she lifts her head back to connect their gaze again, she finds him biting at his bottom lip to contain his signature smirk, "no worries there, darlin’. M’all willing." He almost punctuates his retort with a salacious wink but decides to save it for a more opportune time. Something tells him he’s in for a long evening, not that it’s any cause for concern. Like he said, he is very much consenting to anything her heart desires to do to him.

"Good to know." Y/n quips back with a smile before leaning on her hand resting upon the pool table. "What’s your question then?"

For a moment, Harry forgets he just broke the rack and successfully sent a plain purple ball in one of the table’s pocket, taking him one step closer to victory and granting him one question as per his own proposition. He quickly gathers his reeling thoughts before settling on an easy inquiry, fingers fiddling with the desire to sketch every bit of her character. "Right um, do you have other hobbies besides playin- or should I say, winning pool?"

She wants to slap- or should she say, kiss the smug look off his lovely face, but her answers airs in the same level tone she employs at work, "yes I do."

It’s not enough for Harry’s archeologic curiosity though. He’s barely dusted off the ground beneath his feet to reveal the hint of new groundbreaking findings; armed with sieves and brushes, he is eager to dig a little further, "and what might those be?"

However, y/n is quick to rebuff him, "uh uh, that’s two questions."

Indignation soars through his straightened posture, as he cries out a faint ’what? no!’ and her own ego grows two size at her cunning deceit, "gotta up your game if you wanna keep that perky bum intact, Styles."

Earlier words resonate in the confines of his outfoxed mind then, you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and he tries really hard not to think about the promise following them. Instead he counterattacks in obvious diversion tactic, "that’s twice you’ve mentioned my ass in the past 5 minutes, perhaps I should read into it?"

"I guess you’ll have to wait and see," she lithely deflects as she grabs her own cue with a determined look etched upon her face, "my turn now."

With powerful strides, y/n navigates around the table to position herself at the most promising angle for a score of her own. Once she has both her target and the cue ball in firing line, she tunes out every last bit of stimulus encompassing her; the muffled sound of the music, the sticky oxygen filling up her lungs with sensual tension, the charming presence of the beau intently ogling her every move.

It barely takes her a couple seconds of intense concentration before a sharp thump is bouncing off the table and piercing through the air. The shot is so accurate, clean-cut, vigorous yet graceful and elegant all out once, Harry finds himself mesmerized by her skills more than the subtle form curving out from her bent posture.

The satisfaction is evident in her traits as she straightens up to face him, a pleased rictus forming at her lips. She doesn’t let any suspense unfurl before she cashes in her prize, "so what’s up with the muffin deliveries? You a stress-baker or summat?"

It’s a puzzle that’s been boggling her mind for while now; ever since the first time she watched him gallivanting around the office, handing out kindness and freshly baked goods for the small price of a friendly smile; it’d been a reoccurring thing ever since. The recollection has Harry’s cheeks warm up to a bashful shade of vermillion at the thought of admitting the reason behind his action: he’d bake a basketful of cakes just so he could give her one without exposing himself. Being straight forward with his infatuation may have been unfeasible at the time, but there was nothing against inconspicuously indulging the sweet tooth he knew she had, right?

"I dunno, just like seein' people smile, and everyone likes a good muffin, right?" His answer teeters on the ledge between veracity and evasion, the genuine ‘they were all for you’ being replaced by a less naked truth.

Y/n nods at his answer and waits until he is about to aim for another shot to voice her musings out loud, "mmm, they are quite delicious." Her attempt to distract him turns fruitful when his ears perks at her sultry voice right as he pointedly knocks the white ball with his cue. It’s off by an inch but a near-hit doesn’t help assuage his frustration, "fuck."

"Oh bummer. Guess you’ll have to pass," y/n can’t help but to tease him.

And the pout on his lips does nothing to quell her amusement, "bollocks, you distracted me."

"I did no such thing," she denies before taking his place at the table. The odds are in her favor, a perfect alignment offering itself to sink the blue striped ball right into the closest pocket. And because y/n never misses a clear shot when she’s handed one, that’s exactly what happens. Tucking the cue back at her side, she mulls over the hundred questions titillating her mind and settles for another pass at him,"is this suit the most extravagant you own and if not, what are the others like?"

Harry scrunches up his nose at yet another dig taken at the expense of his clothes, his voice pitching a halftone higher than usual, "hey, s’nough outta you, leave my suits out of it." There is a pout puckering at his lips and y/n giggles at his theatrics when he brings his hands to his chest in a protective gesture. This man and his suits…

"Somehow I don’t believe you give a single fuck about people’s opinion on your fashion choices."

"Very true. But I do value your opinion." For a brief moment, humor and wit give way to vulnerable sincerity as the two of them lock eyes over the pool table. A shy smile graces y/n’s lips, her heart faltering at his sweet sentiment before Harry gently breaks the consuming stare-off, "well, if you’re lookin’ fo’ more extravagant, I actually have a canary yellow flared suit that goes with a violet dress-shirt." And just like that, they found their way back to confidential banter.

"Damn, now I have to see it."

"One day if you’re lucky," this time he does wink at her, and this time he doesn’t let her enchantress juju distract him from the task at hand. As soon as the balls vanishes from the table, the question flies out of his mouth, "do you really find my suits obnoxious?"

Y/n pauses at the inquiry and tries to read into his eyes. She inspects the bright emeralds for any unsuspected insecurities and when she finds none, she sends him a simple smile, "I love them. I just enjoy too much your reactions when I give you shit about them." Her chuckle tugs at Harry’s lips, before she lets honesty flooding past hers, "you got such a great sense of who you are, Harry, it just shows in the way you dress. I admire that, don’t let that go."

Interiorly, he’s heart is jumping in somersaults at possibly the kindest compliment someone’s ever granted him, the fact that it came from her only sending his beating organ into more acrobatics. Exteriorly, he returns her tender smile and mutters a timorous ‘thanks love,’ before watching her pocket another ball.

This time she doesn’t have to mull it over, "why did you wait?"

"Huh?"

"When we kissed earlier, you said you’d wanted to do it for a while. Why didn’t you?"

Her words are bare of any reproach as they both lean on their side against the table, inches apart from each other. It’s a fair question; one that she doesn’t really own as the word could have easily tumbled out from his mouth instead. It’s him on the spot though, and while he didn’t quite expect to broach such hazardous matters over a game of pool, he appreciates the openness of their bond. "I dunno, you always seemed so attached to boundaries at work, always so professional, I didn’t think you’d want me to make a move."

"I secretly did," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Goosebumps race down Harry’s arms as he takes in her confession and the way her teeth are nipping her lips into a darker shade of pink. His eyes are drawn to them, the urge to close the gap and have her moaning in his mouth growing harder and harder to ignore, "fuck that’s sexy. You’re sexy."

The praise washes over y/n like a cold shower after a scorching day at the beach; startling shivers at first, golden skin tingling, and then all-encompassing relief. She loves how unfiltered he is with her, baring his thoughts to her just as they come, no editing, no secret agenda, no diffidence. Just her pure effect on him plastered across his beautiful face and candy-coating his words with a thick oozing layer of honeycomb syrup.

Leaning the slightest bit towards him, she tempts him with a near-kiss, almost dipping her lips in exquisite spongy fudge, but stops just as their breaths starts blending in one hot mess, "your turn," she purrs against his lips tantalizingly, before stepping away.

Harry looks like he is now the one in need of a cold shower, eyes pinched closed as he tries to compose himself, "right," he clears his throat. It takes him a bit more time to regain enough focus to make a successful go at the game, but once he’s got a good hold on the cue, a stable breath and a clear view of the shot, he takes it with ease and fortune.

As soon as he straightens up, he erases the distance between them, a determined look hardening the subtle lines of his face. "Did you ever think about me like I thought about you? At work, did you ever see me pass in the hallway and it took everythin’ you had not to follow me and kiss me senseless in the copy-machine room while no-one was watchin’?"

"Fuck. The thought might have crossed my mind once or twice," y/n confesses in batted breath. It’s clear the scenario isn’t so much a fabrication of his mind made on the spot as it is a confession of his own experience, and the thought has the air in her lungs going scarce, as though she’s reached the apex of Mount Everest.

Harry isn’t fending off the heated tension much better, fingers twitching around his cue as he’d rather have her underneath his fingertips instead. He takes one look at the ceiling to stave his yearning some and draws in a deep breath."This is killing me," he whimpers while his lips skim over he skin of her forehead. "Go on, take your damn shot so we can be done with this game."

"It was your idea," she reminds him wryly. All of it, really; coming here, playing pool, playing 20 fucking questions, this heated hodgepodge of salacity and virtuous adoration is all his doing.

"I miscalculated."

"Poor you," y/n gently mocks is disgruntled attitude before scoring another ball, or as she likes to regard, another question, another opportunity to further tease at his already crumbling countenance, "what about you, Harry, do you ever think about me? At work… or otherwise?"

She already knows the first half of the answer and only voiced the double-entendre to rile him up, so she’s quite stunned when he whizzes, "too fucking much fo’ my own good."

The pained expression on his face is almost comical for y/n, she can’t resist probing at his despair, "me too." He groans at the flowing visuals he can’t ban from his filthy mind before she gestures towards the pool table in a gentlemanly way, "and that’s your cue," they both share a chuckle at her silly pun.

If Harry wasn’t so lost in a whirlwind of lustful thoughts, he would revel in the way their intellects seem to dovetail on all fronts; humor, banter, seduction, sincerity, nothing is lost in translation, they seem to talk in the same love language. From teasing digs and dirty innuendos to play on words or heartfelt confessions, they know exactly which frequency to tune in.

"Fuck, I can’t see straight," he laughs as he misses a shot for the second time, and y/n quickly takes over his spot around the pool table. Settle, relax, aim, breathe, shoot; another point to her flawless record. She turns to him, looking intently at his blown irises to stir up the flame already inhabiting them, "was it good?"

"Mind-blowing," he answers without unlocking their eyes, and the whole conversation is starting to get to her too. Her thighs rub against together, knuckles turning white around her cue as she tightens her grip and Harry has to bite his lips to contain a moan. He tries to distract himself by taking his turn in the game, and burst out in laughter when he pockets the ball and y/n cries out, "blue ball in the pocket! I feel like their might be a subliminal message somewhere but I can’t quite put my finger on it"

Once they regain their breath from laughing, tears of joy actually peeling from the corner of their eyes, they go back to staring at each other. It’s Harry’s turn to ask a question, and the anticipation had y/n fidgeting under his consuming gaze. She expects him to bounce back on the previous question, but to her surprise he decides to take a different route, "tell me darlin’, if I were to kneel at your feet and look up that pretty dress right now, what color your lil panties would be?"

The question sounds boyish really, yet instead of rolling her eyes at him, her core clenches around emptiness at the thought of having him between her legs right this moment, "can’t answer that, sorry."

"Oh come on love, you gotta say. Them’s the rules," Harry tries to coax the answer out of her but she’s not budging.

"Sorry, Harry. I’d tell you if there was anything to tell." His eyes widen at her lewd implication, the revelation of just how many layers away she is from being in the nude, coming into light. Damn, he would have gotten much more than a nip-slip.

"Fuck me, I need to sit down for a mo’."

She laughs at his dramatic response before picking up her cue, "you do that, in the mean time…" The rest of her sentence is cut short as she positions herself at the pool table, and the next sound cutting through the humid atmosphere comes from the ball falling into its target.

"Jesus, do you ever miss?"

"I don’t play to lose, Styles," she quips back. "Now, what’s your biggest fantasy? Aside from shagging in the copy-machine room, that is."

Harry takes one step closer, gently backing her against the table with one hand encasing her at either side of her waist. As he towers over her, his ardent look ignites a fire at the pit of y/n’s stomach, flame licking all the way up to her heart and down to her toes. Her core throbs before the words fall out of his supple lips like maple syrup on a stack of fluffy pancakes. "Right now? Bend you over this pool table and have my way with you."

"In front of all this people?"

"What d’you think is stoppin’ me from doin’ it right now?"

"Manners?"

The retort earns her a deep chuckle, as he shakes his head in disbelief, "fuck y/n, I lost my manners the moment you kissed me."

The raw admission sends a shiver down her spine, before she regains her full bearings and pushing his cue against his chest for him to grab, "your turn."

Barely moving from his spot nestled against her, he successfully sends the ball down the drain and doesn’t waste any time before asking in the same sultry voice, "favorite position?"

‘Why are y’asking?"

"Future reference," he announces confident.

"Well in that case, kinda like this…" she brushes against him as she bends over the table, ass jutted out on one side, before adjusting the angle of her cue and aiming for the pocket, "…when everything aligns and it just sinks…" bam, she propels the sphere in one strong hit "…right through." She finishes her demonstration with a score and a suggestive smile, only but one ball left for her to obliterate; the eight ball. "Are you ready to lose, Styles?"

"Dunno, is that your question?"

"Yes. I got everything I want to know already."

"Then I don’t fucking care about losin", s’not the game I wanna play anymore," he trails a finger down the skin of her back, goosebumps erupting at his touch. He is stopped by the tip of her cue pressing at his chest, slowly pushing him back from her space, and his hands meet this air in surrender. She’s got a wicked smile on her lips and a title to uphold after all, "last shot, make it count."

Harry takes the shot hastily, half expecting another miss, but the solid yellow ball disappears into the table’s corner in a vibrant crash. Eyebrows raised and shallow breath, he pivots back towards her, "please tell me this is turnin’ you on s’much as it’s turnin’ me on?"

"Yes," she rubs the exposed skin of his chest, eyes leaving his face to trail down his torso. "I’m just better at hiding it," she brings her lips to his ear, "physically or otherwise apparently." Then she leaves a loud smack on his cheek and goes around the table to sink the last ball standing in the way of her victory. In true y/n fashion, she completes a faultless round with one last graceful hit that leaves Harry transfixed by her dexterity.

"Damn, you are the queen of pool, I’m bowing down to you. Any final question?"

She lays the cue down on the table before coming up to him, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Take me back to my place?"

His head falls back on its neck, eyes closing in deliverance, "fuck yeah." This whole night may have been the most intense and rousing foreplay he’s ever experienced, he can’t wait to deliver good on his own promise.

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #reader insert #friends to lovers #coworker!harry #harry styles fluff #creative writing #part2 #flirting

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dumb-little-trans-writer · 3 years

Text

Rust and Black Thorn Trees. Chapter 2.

The girl tiredly wandered, getting increasingly exhausted.

She didn’t know where she was.

She knew nothing.

What Miranda neglected to focus on, however, was the fact that she also transformed when on the brink of death, to attempt to find something, anything, to eat, or to wear.

She saw a pack of lycans.

She silently transformed, as how Mother taught her.

Or, more accurately, beat into her.

She stalked the lycans for the perfect moment.

They grabbed bunnies as though they were chips, the high-pitched screaming echoing through her ears.

As one of the lycans had a rabbits leg in it’s mouth, Dasha struck the lycan closest to her, slashing it’s throat. She quickly moved from lycan to lycan before they could react.

As she transformed back, she immediately started tearing the flesh from the lycans with her teeth. She found that eating right after transforming prevents the nausea and the puking, it doesn’t prevent the leaking of the liquid from her eyes and nose, though.

She binged, knowing that this may be her last meal for a while.

She could smell winter on the horizon, and this was her life for the next six years.

Over these six gruesome years, she was able to find the occasional lost tourist or hunter in the forests surrounding Heisenberg’s Factory.

She stole their weapons, and their clothing.

She found that she preferred men’s clothing.

The girl would transform less and less, using the limited ammo and resources she had.

Karl Heisenberg watched her last hunt, as it was the closest to the factory she’d ever been.

Risky.

Hmm, he thought as he watched her dance with the lycans.

With a shotgun shell to the face, of course.

“Hey, you know, there isn’t anyone who can sell you ammo around here,” Heisenberg said, walking toward the girl. She jumped, cautious, “if you run out, you’re kinda fucked.” he stated, putting out his cigar.

She had heard of Lord Heisenberg. Never met him though.

“What are you implying?” she spat.

“All i’m saying is that running out of shotgun shells during the wintertime, when it’s nearly below zero, can be deadly,” he paused, spitting on the cold leaves, “especially for someone as tiny as you.” he laughed at her glare.

“Don’t call me tiny.” she replied, walking past him.

In the recesses of her mind, she was okay with it.

Heisenberg led Dasha to his factory.

It was loud.

The metal clanging against itself, the periodic releases of steam, and the...chainsaw revving?

Heisenberg opened a hatch, and screamed “SHUT YOUR HOLE, ROTTEN CUNT.”

The revving stopped.

“Is one of your failed experiments down there, Karl?” she teased, taking off her jacket as the humidity made it extremely warm, and uncomfortably sweaty. It revealed how muscular she had grown. She was still slim, but a little buffer from when she was with Her.

He seemed taken aback by her calling him Karl, instead of Lord, or even just his last name.

He liked that she didn’t pay his status any mind, he knows he didn’t give a fuck.

“Maybe. I’ll throw you down there if you decide to say some shit.” Heisenberg said with a slight growl.

“I could take it, i bet.” she purred.

“Don’t tempt me, bitch.” Heisenberg whispered, emphasizing ‘bitch’

The girl lightly skipped down the hallway, amusing Heisenberg.

“If I didn'thave a spare room I'd make you sleep outside.” Heisenberg called. She turned and nodded, “It’s right over here.” he pointed to a door on the side of another hallway. The room they were currently in had the bare necessities, albeit it was a mess.

She really didn’t mind though.

She walked to the room he was talking about, and opened the door to a bed that seemed to be collecting dust.

In fact, everything seemed to be barely touched.

Despite her past with cleaning, she needed to at least dust everything down.

“You got something i can wipe this shit down with? Looks like a tomb in here.” she yelled.

“Yeah, gimme a sec, christ” Heisenberg seemed to be struggling with something. She left the room, confused, and then amused at the sight before her.

He seemed to be trying to fix his oven, or cleaning it, whatever he was doing, he was struggling with it.

“Pfft, need help?” she asked, smirking.

“I’d rather kill myself than get help from you.” he coldly replied, sighing as he took his head out of the oven. His face was slightly stained with ash, and he was sweating. She leaned up again the counter, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. Now that she had a closer look, he seemed to be cleaning to oven judging by the ash stained rag soaked in water he was holding.

“This isn’t how you do it, let me help you.” she demanded. Heisenberg was slightly surprised by this, but silently swallowed a bite of his pride, and stood up, arms crossed.

“So how do YOU do it?” Heisenberg asked in a condescending tone.

“You got baking soda?” she suddenly asked, “’cause we’re gonna need a decent amount.” she added, taking out the oven racks.

“I have a lot of it, i guess.” Heisenberg replied, slightly confused.

“Do you realize how much of a fire hazard this is? I might scrub your entire fucking house down at this rate.” Dasha exclaimed, “where’s the baking soda?”

“There.” he pointed to a cabinet. She opened it and grabbed the tin, holding it for a moment to see if she’d need another one.

“Vinegar?” she asked.

“In the same cabinet.” Heisenberg said, annoyed and impatient.

“This is gonna take a day, I hope you know.” Dasha laughed.

“Fucking WHAT?” Heisenberg asked, shocked.

“Yeah. I have to-”

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME AND YOU’RE CLEANING MY OVEN.” Heisenberg said, frustrated.

“...Do you wanna know my name?” she asked, pouring baking soda and water into a cup, “or how to clean your own fuckin’ oven?” she said, sarcastically.

“Both’s fine I guess.” Heisenberg rolled his eyes.

“Dasha Jelíneková. That’s my name.”

“Dein Name ist schön...” Heisenberg muttered.

“...what?” Dasha asked, confused.

“Nothin’. Explain why it’s gonna take a day.” he quickly changed topics.

“Well, wiping down the interior with a soaked rag might get some of the grime off, but it won’t get it all off,” she paused as she mixed more baking soda in with the water to make a paste, “deep cleaning your oven like this also helps heat disperse evenly.” she explained.

“Seriously..?” he muttered, thinking about how his last meal was damn-near raw in some spots, and burnt in others.

“So, you take baking soda and water, make a paste with it like this,” she stuck the cup in his face, “you got rubber gloves, right?” she asked.

“Take a fuckin’ guess.” Heisenberg laughed at the question.

“Hand ‘em to me, dickhead.” she said, making a poor attempt to hide a smile.

“By the way, dunno if this has anythin’ to do with you, but i’ve been finding pretty large lycan carcasses that are either brutally killed and then eaten, or seemingly killed in self defense, all of ‘em had gnarly claw marks,” he paused, “know anything about that?” He asked. Her blood ran cold, but she tried to keep her composure.

“Maybe it was a mutated Lycan.” she quietly said, applying the paste to every crevice in the oven. Heisenberg was confused as to why she was acting strange, and more importantly, how she knew the Lycans were caused by...that.

“Well, uh, keep an eye out, yanno?” Heisenberg uncomfortably laughed in the awkward silence.

“Can you plug the sink, and pour some baking soda on ‘em? Then pour the vinegar on ‘em.”

“Okay...what now?” Heisenberg asked.

“Wait for it to stop foaming, and stick em under the water. In the sink, i mean.” she explained, finishing applying the last of the paste.

“Okay...” he muttered.

“Now, we wait for at least ten hours.”

“...Are you serious?” Heisenberg asked, seemingly shocked.

“Why wouldn’t i be?” she replied, confused.

He looked down, “That doesn’t seem reasonable-”

“You don’t seem to be either, Mister Heisenberg.” she smirked at him.

“You know...” he started, “You should be happy I haven’t chucked you down that chute.” he threatened, towering over her small frame with a hand in her hair, mimicking a ponytail, pulling her close to him. He outwardly smelled like cigar smoke, gasoline, and sweat. His breath reeked of whiskey, his hot breath on her cheek. But she smelled more than just that, due to the experimentation with the Cadou.

She could smell what people feel, she always sort of could, but this was heightened by the experimentation.

This was new, it smelled like a heavy, rich devil’s food cake.

It smelled like sin.

She glanced downward at his crotch, and he was definitely pitching a tent.

“You really don’t want this, Karl.” she whispered. It was true, at least in her mind.

No one should want a monster.

She didn’t even know what she wanted, outside of Her dead.

Staring directly into his eyes, she gently placed her hand on the hand he was using to grip her hair. He violently let go, glaring and walking outside.

He hated how similar, yet different they both were. He wanted her to stay with him, despite barely knowing eachother.

It was a bag of mixed emotions.

Dasha followed behind, she found Heisenberg collecting firewood.

“I’m makin’ hotdogs.” he stated.

“On a fire, I’m assuming?” she asked, “i had to learn how to make a fire by myself. Got good at it too.” she bragged.

Heisenberg ignored her comment, “Can you get the ‘dogs and the buns for me outta the fridge?”

“Sure, what rack are they on?” she asked.

“Figure it out.” he coldly replied.

She scoffed, and went back inside, muttering to herself.

Heisenberg thought for a while while she was inside.

Why did she know about the Cadou? Why does she live in the forest? Is it by choice? I wonder if she’s useful...I wonder if Miranda- he thought. He zoned out, and realized his hands were dangerously close to the fire. He nonchalantly pulled them away, added a little more wood, and grabbed a chair. He thought for a moment, and pulled another chair over from the wood pile.

She came back, hot dog buns and hot dogs in tow.

Heisenberg used his powers to make two metal sticks come to him.

“What the fuck.” she whispered, taken aback.

“Oh. Here.” he said, handing one to Dasha.

“No, what the fuck was that-?” Dasha nervously laughed.

“Oh, yeah. I can do that. Only metal though.” Heisenberg explained.

“Huh.” she replied, giving a bun and a hot dog to him. He stuck the tapered metal point through the middle of the hot dog, and stuck it over the fire.

Dasha did the same.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for what felt like a hour, but really was five minutes.

Heisenberg, obviously, was the first to break the silence.

“So I know you’ve never really mentioned it, but I’m thinkin’ you LIVE in the forest, right?” Heisenberg asked.

“Yeah. Why?” she asked, holding the hot dog above the fire.

“Just haven’t really seen anyone willingly live in the forest.” Heisenberg shrugged. There was another period of silence between them as the fire popped and crackled.

“Do you live in the forest willingly?” Heisenberg asked, taking his hot dog off the metal stick, placing it into the bun.

She looked at him, and opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words to describe her situation. She blinked a couple times, trying to find the words.

“I don’t know.” she furrowed her brow, and had an unmistakable look of i’m-remembering-things-i-don’t-want-to-think-about. Heisenberg wasn’t amazing with emotions, despite being able to read someone like a book.

“Sorry.” he quietly said, looking away from her.

“You had no way of knowing. It’s fine.” She leaned towards him. Then, she took her hot dog away from the fire, and just ate it off the stick. This sight amused Heisenberg.

“How long have you lived in the forest?” Heisenberg asked with his mouth full.

“Around six years? Hard to keep track.” she said, after swallowing a bite.

“Damn. So how old are you now?”

“I don’t know, around twenty-three, i think?” she replied.

“That checks out.” Heisenberg smugly joked.

“At least I don’t look like I’m from World War II.” she retorted, laughing.

“And what if I am, huh?” Heisenberg joked, knowing he was in fact born around when WWII ended.

“I was kidding, shut the fuck up.” she laughed. Heisenberg realized that he really, really liked her laugh. Maybe it’s from the isolation in the factory, and now he finally has someone that seems to enjoy his company. This feeling scared him, just a little bit.

“Yeah, sure.” he laughed. There was silence again.

“This might be coming out of nowhere, but could you...refer to me as a boy? I know this is strange coming from someone who looks like me, but-” he got cut off.

“I get it, it’s alright. No worries. You got a new name?” he asked.

“Dimitri.”

“Still a pretty name.” Heisenberg muttered.

“I heard that.” Dimitri laughed.

“Oh.”

The both of them finished their hot dogs, and they went inside. It was getting cold.

“Starting tomorrow, you’re gonna help me around the factory. Otherwise I won’t hesitate to throw you out.” Heisenberg threatened.

“Alright, you’re gonna have to show me how it works around here though, depending on my job.” he replied, taking his jacket off. He got into his room and rummaged through his bag, looking for a tank top or something. He found a black one that he looted off of a tourist, and swapped into it. Even when it was freezing outside, it was mildly uncomfortable to wear a sweater like he was. He didn’t even think about his immense number of scars being visible, from various creatures and pitiful self-defense attempts. One benefit from the Cadou was that it gave him a healing factor. The only downside, in his eyes, was that killing himself was impossible. He walked out of the room, and into the living room. Heisenberg was making multiple small metal parts like gears and screws float in a certain fashion, making outlines of various things.

He sat on the couch that looked as though it was about to fall apart.

“You’re almost as scarred up as me,” Karl laughed as he pulled up his shirt, revealing a multitude of scar marks, and a happy trail.

Fuck, okay maybe I do know what I want... he thought. He felt a small tingling around his cheeks, as he laughed. He turned around and pulled up the back of his shirt to reveal some of the worst scars he’s gotten. Heisenberg felt himself tense up, his cheeks went red too.

“Can i..?” he asked as he reached his hand out halfway.

“Touch them? Sure.” Dimitri replied, scooting backwards.

He felt his calloused hands gently trace over all of his scars, even the smaller ones. Despite Karl’s rough and mean demeanor, he was so gentle. His hand gently ran down to his waist. He was surprised, but it was calming.

Karl pulled away, fearful of being intimate with him. He had just met the guy, why did he feel this pull?

“I was okay with that, you know.” he said, facing him and letting his shirt fall back to it’s place. He moved a bit closer, wanting the closeness of someone that he never had. “...Please?”

Heisenberg was confused. He was reluctant because of trust issues, yet Dimitri was the polar opposite?

Why did he come here..?

I wanted to use him as an experiment, why-?

“No.” he stated, “I can’t.”

He wordlessly left, Dimitri assuming into his room.

He sighed, and left into 'his' room too.

"Shit." he muttered, thinking about how bad that was. Dimitri went to sleep, trying to forget the entire damn day.

#karl heisenberg #daddy heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil village #fanfic #heisenberg x oc

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franeridart · 4 years

Text

Anon said: How are you just like "Oh these are just some warm up sketches" and post a full finished piece, while I'm over here sketching a triangle person and calling it a finished piece.

I dunno if this was a legit question asking for a legit answer, but I do happen to have a legit answer so I might as well give it! If I wanted to go into detals with it it’d take me forever though, so allow me to separate it into two points to make it easier

I learnt how to be very fast in putting down my lines and trained myself into not overthinking every single dot I put down. This took about five or six years of drawing daily and a whole life of drawing occasionally before then, because to do so you need to reach a point where you’re drawing something you’ve drawn so many times that by now your hand sort of goes without you needing to think about it much, so it’s not a fast process, but boy is it worth it. Mostly learning how to not overthink it, overthinking it used to be 90% of my time spent on a drawing and dear god did it suck the joy out of everything I drew

I have two very distinctive ways of approaching a drawing, one where I actually put effort in it and the other where I just want to let the squiggles out of my pen, and warm ups are the second one - the lack of effort I’m putting in can have different forms and show in different ways, so a warm up could be a fully colored piece as it could be just a pencil doodle, depending on where and on what exactly I’m being lazy: it could be the type of tool I’m using that allows me to draw without having to line, it could be a very tiny canvas that lets me avoid a ton of details a big canvas would demand. I might be cutting the time I usually put in making sure my anatomy is correct, I might be using a shading technique that takes a tenth of the time my usual one would, I might be using a style that’s just easier and faster to draw, or drawing characters I’ve drawn a trillion times in extremely generic poses and clothes. There’s a lot of things that I can do to make things faster for me! It’s skills you gain as you draw a lot - you learn how to draw things the hard way, and then you realize that along the way you learnt how to do them the easy way too

hope this actually answers your question! If it was a question at all lol if it wasn’t then sorry for rambling, please pretend I didn’t say anything hahaha

Anon said: I love your newest comic!!! So adorable!! I noticed Bakugou's mom does the affectionate hair rustle thing to him in the manga/anime, do you think Bakugou subconsciously does the same to show affection cause of it? I love the way you draw faces and poses, it's so expressive!!

Ahhhhh thank you so much!!! And yeah, it might be! After all we do take a lot from the people we live with even without realizing, and he’s already so similar to his mom!

Anon said: I saw your bakushima comic from October 9th (2019) where Bakugo falls asleep studying and Kirishima sets him down on the table properly and it was so soft my heart is crying

;;;;; !!!!!!!! I’m glad you liked it!! <3<3

Anon said: If it not to much, could I possibly get a Ochamina doodle pls? I just love some sweet lesbeans 👉👈

Awww I’m not taking requests right now, but I’ll keep it in mind for next time I want to doodle and don’t know what!

Anon said: I love your art! I envy you.

Please don’t! There’s a lot of reasons why being me isn’t a lot of fun - if it’s just my skill you envy, then all you gotta do is draw a lot!

Anon said: i just went through your entire kiribaku tag and omg it was beautiful seeing the progression in your art skills but still keeping the same funny/cute/heartwarming/etc traits you thought up for their dynamic!! i hope that makes sense haha !! love your art keep it up

It does make sense!!! Thank you so much both for looking through the whole tag and for thinking so, it means a lot to me!! ;;; <3<3

Anon said: Hey fran! I hope you're doing well(especially with quarantine and all)!! I really love your anatomy and how fluid and stylistic it can be! It's super fun to look at! I wanted to ask you if you ever did any in depth studies on anatomy? Like muscles and bones. I've heard a lot of artists mention the necessity of studying bones/muscles, i'd really like to know your opinion on the subject

Ahhh god thank you so much!! And... hmm let’s see if I can word this properly and have it make sense - always keeping in mind that this is just my opinion, of course!

If all you want to do is to draw, then all you need to do is to pick up your pencil and draw - it’s really that easy as far as I’m concerned. You don’t need to know anatomy in depth to just draw, everyone has seen a person, everyone knows how a person looks. That is, if all you want to do is to draw for the sake of drawing. If you want to draw an anatomically correct looking human being, though, you do need to know how anatomy works - and the deeper you’ll go into studying it the more correct your people will look. It’s kind how everyone can draw a bicycle, but if you want to draw a realistic bicycle you’re gonna need to look up references for it, you know? It’s all on the level at which you’re interested in drawing, the more technically skilled you want to be the more you’ll have to study

As for my personal experience with this, I hate studying with a passion. Studying puts a damper on my enjoyement of everything, and drawing isn’t excluded from this - you put a book in front of me expecting me to study it and suddenly I never want to pick up a pencil again. This means that I never sat down and studied anatomy in depth and all in one go just to learn how to draw a human being, but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t, slowly and now and again and in bits and pieces, study parts of the body to get a better understanding of it. I know better about the skeleton than I do about muscles, and I still have enough to learn about everything that anyone who’s studied anatomy properly would find a trillion mistakes in everything I draw, but my way of going about drawing has always been and always will be putting my enjoyement of it first and foremost, so I’m not interested in putting myself through a tour-de-force to learn everything there is to know about anatomy just to make my doodles look appealing to someone with a medical degree haha I’m just doing me, and when the mood is right I look up how to properly draw something, but until then I just do it as best as I can with my limited knowledge, being fully aware that what I’m producing is far from accurate but being willing to make that compromise for my own comfort

So that’s my opinion on it lol it all boils down to how important it is for you to know how to properly draw the human body - of course it’s gonna look more professional and better if you’ve studied it, but everyone has their own priorities, you know?

Anon said: Thank you for your hard work, seeing an upload from you is so nice, and the colors are so pretty

Thank you so muuuuccchhhhh!!!! TTATT <3<3<3

Anon said: Opinions on Tokoyami Fumikage 💕

One of my top faves in the whole manga, actually! I have a drawing in the making of him, I should get back to it..........

Anon said: HOLY SHIT FRAN THE TOES HOW YOU DRAW THE TOES SO WELL FEET ARE THE DEATH OF ME AND YOU’RE OVER HERE DRAWING TOES THEY’RE SO GOOD PLEASE TEACH ME YOUR WAYS!!! -❤️

Thank you!!!!!!!! So pretty much my way of learning this specific skill was being obsessed with elves when I was fifteen and wanting to draw them all the time and also for whatever reason being convinced that they were not supposed to wear shoes so I just drew a lot of feet with references and tutorials and stuff till I could draw my elves properly. Which isn’t necessarily what you need to do to learn how to draw feet, but, I mean, it worked for me lol

Anon said: I love ur Bnha ships and all but what would u do if some of them didn’t become canon??

Oh, I actually don’t care about that at all? I don’t expect most of them to become canon anyway - like, ochadeku sounds reasonable and kamijirou seems to be getting there, but everything else I never even considered it as an actual possibilily. I don’t really ship because I want to see my ships become canon, I just like the potential in what I can make with them? If that makes sense? They’re just fun to think about and I like making fancontent, that’s all there is to it really haha honestly if I had my way no ship would ever be canon ever ha ha ha

Anon said: Slep is for the wek

No actually sleep is for Frans who want a chance at getting up tomorrow morning without an headache for once, so I should do that and go to sleep already lmao

#fran answers #a couple of long ones in this one !!!!!#feeling blabbery tonight

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bluedemon1995 · 3 years

Text

30-Mistletoe Sorry it’s a little late!

Christmas party …. 3 years post war

Shiro looked up, catching sight of Keith, smiling he loudly exclaims, “Keith! You made it!” He takes in Keith striding up to him with a shit eating grin and so many memories flash through his mind. Closing his eyes for just a moment and then when he reopens them Keith is there.

Keith nodds, calmly replying, “I told you I would. Have a little faith.”

Shiro sighs, “Yeah, yeah, I do…but I wasn’t sure if you could. Hell, you might get busy, emergency or just plain forgot. But damn, it’s good to see you in person.” He reaches over and hugs him tight. “Real good.” Patting his back he enjoys this moment.

Keith smiles and looks around, “Impressive turnout. Seems like everyone is in the spirit.” Taking in Shiro’s lighted Christmas tree sweater, he arches a brow, “Especially you.”

Shiro smiled, “Yeah, we did. Hell, with your arrival, we actually have all of us here. You know what that means, we have to get a family picture. I think the last one was from my wedding.”

Keith arched a brow. “Yeah sure, if you want proof of your horrible taste in clothing,” Shrugging, “ I’m game. Definitely not arguing, so, um, where are the others?”

Matt slaps Keith on the back, hard, coming up from nowhere, sing-songing, “Ohhhhh, ho, ho, ho, do you mean my sister, fa la la la la!?”

Shiro and Matt laugh loudly and Keith rolls his eyes.”Shut up guys, that doesn’t even rhyme and more importantly someone might hear you.”

Lance strolls up at that exact moment, “What are we talking about guys? Merry Christmas Keith.” He claps Keith on the back before pulling him in for a full on hug.

Keith nods, “Merry Christmas, Lance, you’re looking well.”

“Damn dude, it’s good to see you, no need to be so formal.”

Shiro catches Lance’s eye, asking directly, “Hey have you seen Pidge or Hunk?”

“Yep, Hunk is near the kitchen scoping out the chefs and what not. I personally think he’s crazy for not enjoying a night off but you know him and food. And Pidge is over there.” Arm wave and pointing to a corner, “From what I gathered or more accurately easedropped-from Veronica, Griffin had a plan to get her under under the mistletoe. So I’m sure operation Green is in effect.”

Keith freezes and manages to wheeze out a “Huh?

Hunk approaches, “Yeah apparently Ina told Shay that Griffin had feelings for Pidge. But, our Pidge was oblivious and didn’t pick upon subtle hints. So I think Griffin planned on his big move tonight.”

Keith started coughing and wheezing, finally getting out, “Does she like him?”

Both Hunk and Lance are now looking concerned, when Matt replies, “Why, what’s it to you? Does her liking someone else make you blue?

Lance started laughing, “What the hell man? Are you Dr. Seuss?” Laughing maniacally, he stutters out, “Man that rhymed!

But then he catches sight of Keith’s pale face and stops. “Keith, man, talk to us.” Looking to Shiro, he asks “What the hell is going on?”

Shiro looks at Keith, “That’s your truth to tell.”

Everyone quiets, when Lance speaks again, “Keith, if you, um, like Pidge, please don’t wait. Love is something that is worth whatever it is your are worried about risking. Take it from me-really. Don’t wait.”

Then Matt chimes in, “Yeah, ditto but also, have a little faith in yourself and Pidge. She’s been asked out by a ton of guys for various reasons. She’s still single for a reason and it’s not for lack of options. But well, let’s just say, everyone has a breaking point or a time limit. Go get her. Don’t let your time expire.”

Keith looks at his friends, no his family and nods. He takes a deep breath, and replies, “Yeah, I gotta go see about my girl. Where is this mistletoe located?”

After some instructions and recommendations, he’s off.

Meanwhile, Pidge is trying to get away from well everyone. Her mom is trying to introduce her to every single guy and her dad wants her to explain their newest project to some serous annoying upper commanders. Finally, she goes to the bathroom to escape. As she leaves she thought she saw Keith but got intercepted by Mark.

Luckily James and Veronica saved her and James pulled her away. As they were walking he stopped and grabbed both her hands. “Katie, lookup.”

As she looked up and saw the mistletoe, James pulled her closer, “Um, can I kiss you?” Pidge’s brain paused and finally she nodded hesitantly, “Um, sure?”

He leaned forward and gave her a really sweet kiss. It was nice but again Pidge wondered, is it this it? Maybe the romance novels she’s taken to reading are all lies, or maybe just misdirection. When he stopped she looked up at him, and he looked so pleased she again thought, what am I missing here?

Suddenly, she heard a growl. Blinking she turned to see Keith. She felt super embarrassed and wasn’t even sure why. Then Keith said, “Excuse me, Griffin, but we have a family picture to take. Excuse us.”

He reached for her hand, pulling her from James and she quickly called out, “Um, see you later.” That was about all she got out because Keith was fast walking and dragging her away.

As she reaches the group, everyone starts talking at once and she’s instantly confused. Finally she raises a hand, “Stop! What’s going on?”

Keith bites out, “Family picture. Let’s go.”

Never letting go of Pidge, everyone gets together in the ‘photo booth’ area. Silly, serious, fun pictures all had. Finally, she is talking to Hunk and Lance, who quietly ask, if James kissed her. Face red she replies, “Mmmhmmm.”

Hunk asks delicately, “So do you think you like him?”

Pidge sighs, “Honestly, the kiss was nice. Nicer than some of the guys who I’ve gone on dates with. But, um, maybe I’m just not a passionate person. Maybe I’m not like, I dunno a girl who feels strong emotions? Cuz it was all just okay.”

Lance nods, “I’m going to get us all a drink, sit tight. Keep Hunk company until Shay gets here.” Pidge nods quickly, “No problemo.”

Lance quickly approaches Keith, pulling him aside, “This is your chance. Take it! She felt eh, about Griffin. She thinks she isn’t passionate and let’s face it, Pidge is passionate! But she’s gotta be invested, she’s gotta care. GO before someone else untaps her potentioal!”

Keith takes a deep breath, “Yeah, okay, thanks.”

He goes to where the mistletoe is and quickly removes it. He doesn’t want his first kiss with her to be in the same place where she kissed Griffin, stupid or not, it’s how he feels. He places it instead outside on the balcony. Coming back in, he walks over to the group.

“Hey, I’m pretty hot, is there anywhere I can get some fresh air?”

Luckily Pidge replies, “Sure, wanna go out on the balcony?”

Keith readily agrees and when they leave he looks back to see encouraging grins and thumbs up. Smiling he loosens his necktie and places his hand on Pidge’s lower back, just enjoying the heat of her body, her scent, man, he knows it’s primitive but he he really just feels at peace around her.

As they step out, Keith maneuvers her to the darkened bench. As they sit, he looks up, “Um, hey, isn’t that mistletoe?”

Pidge looks up, turning red she replies, “Um, maybe?”

At that Keith looks down at her upturned face, he mutters, “Katie.” He slowly lowers his lips to hers, gently at first…slowly gaining pressure, making sure she was on board. He feels her hands grip his biceps then move up his shoulders then to his neck. When her hands were tangled in his hair and he found even breathing was hard. But hell, he didn’t want to. He yanked her closer and finally sat her on his lap. She was everything he dreamed of and more. He couldn’t think, only react.

Pidge on the other hand was amazed. THIS, this is what the books talked about, described. The heat, the passion, there was no thought just feeling. A lot of feeling. Finally breaking free to breath, she looked at Keith, amazed.

“Keith, what the hell was that?”

He smiled, “Hopefully, just the beginning.”

#katie holt #keith kogane #kidge #kidgemas 2020 #keith x pidge #keith and pidge #pidge and keith

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winryofresembool · 3 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 24

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Halloween chapter, part 2.

A/N: Yay, an update! I think some of you are gonna be happy about the characters that are being introduced in this chapter... Also lots of Caleo dorkiness (and canon references) in it! And you'll get to see if you were right with your costume guesses :D

Also like I already mentioned last week, this is the last chapter that I have written so far (when I started posting this fic I tried to make sure I'd have at least 7 chapters ready so I wouldn't have to stress about deadlines... and here we are now) so it is possible that updates may slow down a bit, at least if the chapter wants to become long. But I am still /trying/ to keep up with the regular updates the best I can :) So worry not!

Now, enjoy and let me know what you think!! Ps. somehow we’ve managed to pass 50k words already :O

Words: 4040

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

“Hi, you guys!” Piper, who was dressed as Wonder Woman, greeted Leo and Calypso first when they arrived, gesturing for them to come in.

“Hello! I was afraid Argo II had decided to stop working because you guys are late,” Jason the Superman noted as he offered to take Calypso’s coat and put it in a hanger by the door.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Jason, that possibility did cross my mind as well,” Calypso said, casting Leo a meaningful look. “But no, not this time.”

“We’re only 10 minutes late!” Leo protested, checking the time from his phone. “I was busy finishing something… and Calypso took her time preparing herself as well. She probably did her wig for like two hours.” He gave her a not so serious side-eye.

“I did not!” Calypso said defensively. “Yeah, I straightened and combed and braided it but that took me maybe 15-20 minutes so he is highly exaggerating.”

“Don’t worry, Calypso, we know he does that a lot.” Piper smiled at her reassuringly. “Speaking of your wig, though, you look very cute! That hair reminds me of the style you had before my makeover. You’re dressed as the mythology Calypso, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Calypso said, pleased that Piper had figured that out so fast. “I thought it would be fun to be a bit self ironic for once. I haven’t really had a good reason to sew recently so this was a nice excuse to do that as well.” She made a small twirl to show the dress better.

“That dress really looks great!” Piper told her. “I would gladly commission you to sew me clothes; it’s so hard to find anything nice from the clothes stores these days. But Leo.” She turned back to him. “I see someone hasn’t bothered to get a costume. I wasn’t expecting that from you because you’re always so excited about them.”

“No, you got it all wrong.” Leo wagged his finger at her. “I do have it here, but as I told Cal, it would have been too difficult to wear in the car.” He dropped his bag on the floor, causing a loud thud as it hit the ground.

“Alright. Care to give us any hint what it is?” Piper asked curiously. “Seems heavy.” Calypso wondered if this was something they did every year.

“I’m just saying that it’s inspired by some movies that united us three,” Leo noted mysteriously. “But that’s all, you’ll see soon!”

“My mind is blank now,” Piper said. “Jason, what movies have we watched with him?”

“The first one that comes to my mind is Star Wars,” Jason reminded her. Suddenly both Jason and Piper’s eyes widened in realization. “Could it be?”

“Oh no, Leo you didn’t!” Piper doubled over in laughter when it occurred to her what Leo’s costume most likely was. “I can’t wait to see this!”

“I hope you took pictures with Festus!” Jason couldn’t keep his poker face either, and Calypso watched their reactions with confusion.

“Don’t worry, I will show them later.” Leo grinned, unperplexed by Jason and Piper’s laughter. “Now, where can I change?”

Piper showed him an empty room where he could get into his costume in peace, while Calypso started looking around the house on her own. Even though the place seemed rather fancy, Jason and Piper had managed to make it cozier with their personal objects. A lot of them had seen life and were worn but somehow they still fit in with the newer decorations.

As Calypso reached the living room, her focus went to the guests who had already arrived at the party. She waved at Annabeth and nodded awkwardly to Percy. Even though she and Annabeth were friends again, she wasn’t quite sure how she should act near Percy so ‘reserved’ felt the most natural reaction. She couldn’t help but smile a bit, though, when she registered their costumes: Annabeth had a Chiton just like her, although grey instead of white, with some silvery accessories and a beautiful owl shaped brooch over her chest. Perhaps the most impressive part of her costume was the Greek styled helmet that was used in battles and that hid most of Annabeth’s curly ponytail. Calypso was quite certain she was dressed as Athena, the Greek goddess that according to her was the one she identified herself the most with. Percy on the other hand was wearing sandals, shorts, a tropical shirt, and a belt with fishing equipment and he was holding a fishing rod in his hand. Calypso couldn’t quite figure out who he was supposed to be, other than some sort of fisherman.

“Hi,” Calypso greeted them as she got to hearing distance with them. “You guys look nice. You’re Athena, right?” She asked Annabeth. “Matches my theme, don’t you think?”

“Sure does,” Annabeth nodded, eyeing Calypso’s costume. “You look pretty much exactly like how I imagine the mythology Calypso.”

“Thank you. Coming from you it’s a big compliment.” She turned Percy. “I can’t figure out who you are, though. You don’t seem like a Greek god?”

“I am, though,” Percy replied. “I’m Poseidon.”

“Ooh, so that’s why the fishing gear!” Calypso realized. “But I don’t think the Greeks had tropical shirts quite yet.”

“No, you’re right in that.” Percy shook his head, smiling a bit. “But I’m basing this on the version in the Peter Johnson series. That’s how he was described in it.”

“I didn’t know you have read that too,” Calypso said, “But makes sense. Um, the Poseidon and Athena of the mythology hated each other, though. Not that it’s really my business, but I hope you two are doing fine…?” She asked a bit nervously, not wanting to be the reason for their issues.

“Oh yeah, we are,” Percy confirmed immediately. “It’s just an old joke – back when Annabeth and I were reading the Peter Johnson books I used to say Poseidon is my godly parent and Athena Annabeth’s, and that just kind of stuck with us.”

“Alright.” Calypso accepted Percy’s answer, turning her attention back to Annabeth. “By the way, where did you get that helmet? It definitely looks fancier than most of the plastic ones you see at costume shops.”

“My father collects these things,” Annabeth answered, lifting the helmet from her head for a moment. “I’ve told you he’s also a historian, right? Well, one of his friends wanted to make a replica of the ancient Greek helmets with some modern machines and dad bought this from him. I’m not saying this is 100 per cent accurate but it looks pretty cool, in my opinion.”

“It does,” Calypso confirmed.

“You came with Leo, right?” Percy asked then, to which Calypso nodded. “Where is he? I can’t wait to see his costume; he usually goes for something that is way over the top. Last year he was Hiccup from How to Train your Dragon and he had made a Toothless costume for his dog. I’ve also seen pics of him as Iron Man. Yes, with a full iron costume.”

“I can believe that of him,” Calypso chuckled, imagining Leo in the said costume. “He just went to change into his costume because apparently he couldn’t drive in it. He didn’t reveal what he was going to be, but it does sound like something extravagant.”

“I missed his costume last year but I’ll be sure to have a camera ready when he shows up this time,” Annabeth said happily. Calypso was relieved that the conversation was going this well; she hadn’t known what to expect beforehand because this was the first time she was in the same room with Percy since the ‘incident’. Talking with him now, though, made her realize that holding a grudge wouldn’t be smart and he seemed to think the same way.

“I just realized,” Calypso decided to change the topic, “that I’ve never heard the story of how you guys know Jason and Piper. So how did that happen?”

“It’s a funny story,” Percy started, smiling at the memory. “Jason and I used to be the captains of rivaling soccer teams when we were around 16. Well, one time Jason’s team was visiting us but we were playing in an arena that had just been renovated so I hadn’t been there before. I may have been a bit late from our team meeting and I was a bit lost so I decided to ask one staff lady where I was supposed to go. Somehow she got our teams mixed up and I ended up in the locker room of Jason’s team. Some of Jason’s teammates said that my expression was worth seeing when I realized the mistake but I dunno about that. The funny thing was that somehow the same thing had happened to Jason; he had also been late for the meeting because of traffic or something and he had gotten into my team’s locker room. Well, after the game we had a good laugh about it together and ended up talking about other stuff as well and noticed we have a lot in common. That’s how we became friends. When we moved into the same town, we started training together at least a few times a week.”

“Piper and I didn’t learn to know each other until Jason and she started dating a couple of years ago and they invited Percy to some party where I went with him. To be honest, I was a bit suspicious about her at first because we seemed very different but eventually we learned to respect each other’s qualities. And here we are,” Annabeth added.

“Those are some cool stories,” Calypso said. “It seems like a funny coincidence that somehow we all ended up in this city even though most of us are from somewhere else. Like Leo is from Texas, I am from Greece…” “Speaking of him,” Annabeth had to muffle his laughter with her hand, “I believe we are finally getting some answers about his costume.”

“Oh… my gods” was all Calypso could say when she turned to the direction Annabeth was looking at. “You’re really something else.”

Leo was completely hidden inside his costume, but Calypso could practically hear him grinning at their reactions. The costume looked very much like in the movies; golden (just painted, not real gold, because there was no way Leo could afford something like that) plating forming a droid with big round eyes and an ability to speak lots and lots of different languages: C-3PO from Star Wars.

“Holy shit, dude, that looks so real.” Percy gaped at Leo. “I’m starting to understand why you spent so much time in your room the past few weeks.”

“Why C-3PO, though?” Calypso asked once she managed to put her poker face back on. “Does that have some story behind it?”

“Because, duh, it looks cool!” Leo exclaimed with a mechanical voice from inside his costume. “I dunno, ever since I first saw C-3PO as a kid I thought it would be cool to be able to build something like that. And hey, his ability to translate like all the possible languages is pretty neat. Me? I just know 3.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable in there, though?” Calypso asked. “That thing must be heavy.”

“Sunshine, I’m always uncomfortable. But this was a childhood dream of mine so I sure as heck am not backing off now,” Leo said with determination.

“A stubborn one, aren’t you?” Calypso stated. “Even I have to admit, though, that you have certainly done some thorough job with it. Hey, I should take photos before I forget! You don’t get to see this every day.”

The others dug their phones up as well and for a while Leo just made silly poses while they took pictures, clearly enjoying the attention his costume got. Eventually he started demanding that Calypso should join him for the photos but she was a bit hesitant at first.

Leo argued: “Come on. Greek mythology meets Star Wars? You don’t see a crossover like that every day.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose,” Calypso said and went next to him. “Well, do we have some kind of story for Calypso and C-3PO’s meeting?” she asked as Percy and Annabeth waved at them to look at the camera.

Leo considered her question for a moment. “Oh, how about this? C-3PO somehow ends up on Calypso’s island - because duh, Calypso is cursed so she can’t leave the island…”

“You seem to know surprisingly much about Greek mythology, just saying…” Calypso noted while trying to smile for the photos, resting her hand on the metallic shoulder.

“I told ya, Sunshine, you can blame tía Callida for that…” Leo reminded her. “Anyway, I imagine those two don’t really like each other at first because they’re so different but eventually they learn to respect each other’s skills; C-3PO can translate basically any language and Calypso is good at all kinds of handiworks, which is hard for a droid.”

“And? What happens after that?” Calypso asked curiously.

Leo considered it for a moment. “C-3PO doesn’t really wanna leave Calypso’s island but he has galaxies to save with his friend R2-D2 so he has to go but he promises to come get her afterwards.”

“Aw, Leo, that is kind of sweet,” Calypso commented, suddenly aware of the metal arm that had snuck around her waist. “Does he… does he ever return, though? Shouldn’t that be impossible?”

“For a human, maybe, but he’s a droid,” Leo noted. “Unfortunately during a big battle he blows up badly but the ever so faithful R2-D2 collects the pieces and finds someone who can rebuild him again. And boom, he makes it back and lives happily ever after with his goddess.”

“What’s the term you use when you enjoy a fictional relationship a lot?” Calypso asked. “Shipping?” Annabeth nodded at her. “I don’t know, Leo, to me it sounds like you ship those two. Isn’t that a bit weird?” “What, why would that be weird? I’ve seen people ship…”

“I see these two have gotten into a full on nerd mode again,” Annabeth said quietly to Percy while they were waiting for the flatmates to stop their bickering so they’d be able to take the photos. “Not projecting themselves into their characters, right?”

“No, definitely not,” Percy agreed.

Eventually Leo and Calypso stopped bickering and Annabeth was able to take the pictures. Even if Leo was mostly hidden by his costume, Calypso felt a bit self conscious about the fact that these were the first photos of them together. They did a few goofy poses because Annabeth and Percy told them to, but Calypso thought she probably looked more embarrassed than funny in them.

Once they were done, Leo went to Annabeth who was going through the photos and bowed his head a bit to see them better. “Hey, these do look pretty cool! It’s probably just the lighting but here you look like you’re blushing to some funny comment C-3PO made.”

“Show me!” Calypso yelped nervously and took the phone from Annabeth. When she saw it, she could immediately tell Leo was not wrong; she really was blushing. “Yeah, it’s definitely those candles in the background that do it… And I think it’s pretty warm in here, maybe all the people here heat this room…”

“OK, if you say so,” Leo said but Calypso imagined that he was looking at her suspiciously through his costume.

Trying to get the others’ attention to something else, she said: “So, who else has arrived so far?”

“Nico and Will. I think they went to get some snacks from the dining room,” Piper, who had just entered the room, answered.

“Leo told me that Nico is Jason’s relative, but what about Will?” Calypso asked her.

“Will is Nico’s boyfriend. This is the first time we’re meeting him but they seem very good together. At least he seems to have a grounding effect on Nico, and he actually listens to him, unlike most of us. Um, sorry, it’s a long story, one that I should probably save for another time. Nico may be a bit hard to approach sometimes but he is a very nice guy when you learn to know him. Just… been through a lot. I guess like many of us here. But he seems way happier now,” Piper said, and as if on cue, they could hear some distant laughter coming from the dining room.

“We should start a traumatized college kids’ club,” Leo attempted to joke, and the others hummed in agreement. Maybe she did belong to this group after all, Calypso thought. If only they knew, though…

“This just got cheerful,” Percy said, interrupting Calypso’s thought process. “Who’s up for blue candies? Get them before Will and Nico eat them all.”

“I heard that, Jackson!” Nico entered the room without a warning. “No offense to you or your mom but blue candies aren’t exactly my thing.”

“Hi, Nico,” Percy greeted him, seeming a bit flustered after Nico’s comment. “You haven’t met Calypso, right?” He pointed at her.

“No, I haven’t,” Nico took a quick look at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright, in that case, this is Calypso Astal. And Calypso, this is Nico di Angelo,” Percy introduced them to each other.

“Nice to meet you,” Calypso approached him, but he seemed to evaluate her for a moment before he took her hand.

“Likewise,” Nico said finally. “I think Jason has mentioned you a few times.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Calypso said a bit unsurely, like every time she met a new person. The lonely years still had a toll on her, and even though she liked spending time with her friends, meeting new people was always a bit nerve wracking to her. “You’re his relative, right?”

“A distant cousin,” Nico answered. “Yeah, our fathers are related, but I have my mother’s last name and Jason has his.”

“I take it your mother has roots elsewhere, based on the last name?” Calypso asked.

“She was Italian,” Nico shrugged. “I lived there my first years too. But now I can barely remember those times.”

Calypso noticed the use of past tense, but she thought it was probably better to not ask about that in the middle of a party. “Oh. I’ve been to Italy a few times. I’m originally from Greece.”

“What brought you here, then?” Nico asked.

“Dad’s work,” Calypso responded in a tone that told everyone she wouldn’t elaborate on that topic more. It seemed to have become a habit to her.

“Anyway,” Leo, who had managed to stay quiet for a surprisingly long amount of time in Calypso’s opinion, stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Nico, a little bird told me,” he looked at Jason, “that your boyfriend is a Star Wars geek. Is that true?”

Nico took one look at Leo’s costume and his mouth twitched when he realized why Leo was asking. “He is, but don’t let him get started on it, or else he will never stop. Besides, he’s not my boyfriend, I prefer calling him…”

“A significant nuisance?” Will showed up from the dining room, carrying a plate full of food. “Don’t mind him, he just warms up a bit slow.”

“Yes, this is Will,” Nico sighed, addressing those who hadn’t met them before. “Sometimes he’s a nuisance, sometimes he can be quite OK. When he’s having a good day.”

“Same back at you, dear,” Will laughed. “Did I hear someone mention Star Wars, though?”

“You did,” Leo said, stepping forward so Will could see his costume better. Needless to say, Will looked beyond thrilled.

“Oh boy, here we go again,” Nico said quietly before Will even had time to comment on the costume.

“Woah, that must be the best C-3PO costume I’ve seen. And yeah, I’ve seen a few so I don’t compliment you for nothing,” Will assured.

“Thanks, man, I did spend quite a while with it,” Leo said, high fiving Will. “Glad someone here appreciates good things.”

“I still hope you’re not one of those fans who have only seen the most recent movies and not the originals,” Will noted.

“Heck, no!” Leo exclaimed immediately. “The original three for the win! Mom and I used to watch them a lot… um, when I was little. She was a big fan. But the newer ones just don’t feel the same.” Calypso had a feeling Leo had almost said something else, but he had changed his phrasing at the last moment.

“You have a pretty good taste,” Will said approvingly. Then he finally realized he hadn’t even asked Leo and Calypso’s names before getting into the geek mode.

“So, who are you two? I already met Percy and Annabeth earlier but I don’t think I know you guys yet.”

“I’m Leo Valdez, and this is my, um, flatmate, Calypso Astal,” Leo introduced. Calypso hoped there was a better word to describe their relationship than a ‘flatmate’ but at the moment it was probably the best and the safest option there was.

“Flatmates, huh?” Will repeated. “How did that happen?”

“I was in a hurry to find a roof over my head so I put in the application that I also accept mixed flats,” Calypso replied. “I didn’t meet Leo beforehand because, um, that would have been a bit difficult to arrange in this case, but it worked out OK.” Calypso noticed Leo was looking at her from the corner of his eye, and she realized she had never even talked about that option before. The truth was that she had had to plan her leaving very thoroughly so her father wouldn’t notice and she had driven to Indianapolis as fast as possible, with no time for second guessing.

“And my flat happened to have a room free because our boy Jason decided to move in with Beauty Queen,” Leo added to that story. “It’s really no stranger than that.”

“Oh, right, someone must have mentioned that you and Jason used to be flatmates,” Will recalled. “I just didn’t connect the dots.”

Jason had apparently finished welcoming the rest of the guests because he joined the group in the living room. “That reminds me, I don’t think I’ve asked you, Calypso, if Leo still leaves his dishes undone and if he has empty milk cartons in the fridge.”

“He used to do that?” Calypso asked with amusement. “After seeing his room that’s not so hard to picture, but no, he’s been pretty tidy in the common area. Although one time he bribed me to do his dishes for him in exchange for some of his food.”

“It was a good deal!” Leo protested. “You didn’t have to cook and you also got to taste some Valdez’ sizzling hot quesadillas so I’d say it was a win-win. Besides, you didn’t seem to have anything against that.”

“Alright, I will admit the quesadillas were pretty good,” Calypso conceded. “But a true gentleman offers them without even asking. Well, other than that he’s been OK,” she told Jason with a playful twinkle in her eye.

“I guess he really is able to change his habits, then,” he replied. “At least when the flatmate is someone he...”

Before Jason had time to finish his sentence, Leo intervened: “Folks, do we really have to be talking about my cleaning habits in front of people I don’t know? The first impressions are important, especially when it comes to Supersized McShizzle!”

“We’re just being honest, Repair Boy.” Calypso couldn’t resist booping his metal covered nose. Apparently she just didn’t know how to not cross the line with this boy, she sighed in her mind.

“Is that all? Where’s the feisty Sunshine I know?,” Leo said in a low tone, so the others could barely hear his comment, coming out almost flirty.

“Shut up,” Calypso answered equally quietly but held her gaze at him.

“Ahem,” they suddenly heard Piper’s voice behind them. “In case you’ve stopped with the flirting, I’d like you to meet a couple of people.”

Calypso turned to see the newcomers and as she recognized the Hunter badges both of them had attached to their shirts, something in her mind just suddenly turned off.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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love-sapphirerose · 3 years

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Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 21

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-21/.170045

I was naïve enough to hope that, after delivering an essentially tolerable half-hour last week, Yashahime might finally be on the upswing. Except I forgot: Yashahime is where hope goes to die. The animation, voice-acting, and direction all still range from mediocre to outright bad; nothing's changed there. In order to truly understand what makes “The Secret of the Rainbow Pearls” so lame, we have to talk about its writing, and that means the return of ~Yashahime Masterpiece Theater~, where I provide a completely accurate, line-by-line breakdown of Yashahime's many flaws! We begin some two-hundred years before the beginning of InuYasha, with Kirinmaru plotting his defeat of the Great Dog Demon…

—Prologue: Wherein We Technically Learn About the Secret of the Rainbow Pearls.—

The Four Perils: Lord Kirinmaru, the Great Dog Demon is ill, which makes right now the perfect time to strike!

Kirinmaru: You idiots! I'm an honorable and soulful villain. I only want to kill the GDD if we're on equal footing! Riku, go deliver these medicines to him, so I can murder him later!

Riku: Kay. [He leaves]

Lady Zero: That damned fool Kirinmaru! If only he'd be willing to murder the GDD while he's down! This is why we haven't taken over the world yet! [Riku returns]

Riku: Yo, so I went to go deliver those meds, but that Great Dog Demon dude is definitely dead.

Lady Zero: What!? No! how cruel, how unjust is this world to take from it such a beloved creature! I simply cannot handle this grief, so I'm going to use my tears on the Shikon Jewel to make these Rainbow Pearls, which are like Infinity Gems, I guess? Point is, I'm not even a demon anymore, except I'll still be immortal and young even hundreds of years from now, so maybe I am a demon still?

Riku: Um.

—End Prologue—

(Why does Lady Zero's entire disposition turn on a dime? Why does it take almost two hundred years for Riku to get ahold of the other Rainbow Pearls? I hope you weren't hoping for answers to any of those questions, because instead the episode takes us to…)

—Act One: Wherein Towa Is Very Bad at Listening to Directions. Again.—

Setsuna: Alright, sis, look. Moroha and I are going off to do…whatever it is we do in our free time. It's the new moon, and you're powerless again. We all know that everything you touch is immediately ruined, so I am begging you. Please. Do not go anywhere. Do not do anything. Just stay inside with Kaede. Got it?

Towa: Yeah, yeah, I got it! Geez. Hey, Kaede, how are—

Kaede:[Unprompted] Have I ever told you about how much you remind me of your mother, Rin? I lived with her for years, and when she disappeared after you were born, it broke my heart.

Towa: You've literally never mentioned any of this to me, even though we've been in Feudal Japan for…I dunno, a while? Anyways, I guess I'm mildly interested in this. What happened? Did she die?

Kaede: I dunno. Probably.

Towa: Huh. Well, what about me reminded you of her?

Kaede: She was…nice?

Towa: Neat. Oh damn, was that the Dream Butterfly!? [Towa immediately runs outside to get into some shenanigans]

Setsuna:[Miles away] Seriously, Towa, what the fu—

—End Act One—

(I don't need to go into any more detail about why it's so ridiculous that it has taken twenty-one episodes for Towa to show even a passing interest in one of the most important story threads that fans have been dying to have resolved, right? That's good, because we haven't even gotten to the next part yet…)

—Act Two: Wherein Things Get Really Dumb. —

Towa: Aw, man, I lost the Dream Butterfly! I guess I'll give up on that again for another season or two. [Enter Riku]

Riku: Hey there girl. Remember me? I'm that sketchy guy who always shows up at suspiciously convenient moments. I got you arrested that one time? I have an inexplicable knowledge of the villains' movements and plans?

Towa: It's tea time! [The episode becomes about these two sharing a romantic tea picnic, for some reason]

Riku:[A few minutes of unbearably cringy flirting later…] So anyway, I'm, like, all about these Rainbow Pearls. You know, the incredible magic artifacts that are lodged in you and your twin sister's eyes? I gotta snatch 'em all!

Towa: Oh yeah. That isn't even a little suspicious! I've honestly never thought about them much. What do they even do when you have them all together?

Riku: Who knows? Your powers would increase, I suppose. Or perhaps a devastating Degenerate Age could begin…[Riku gives a mischievous double-wink]

(Note: That is really Riku's line from the show, straight up. Even the wink.)

Towa: I have no follow up questions for you. At all. Not even one! It's a good thing that I'm out here, vibing with such an obviously trustworthy dude, especially since I don't have any powers tonight!

Totetsu: Surprise! I'm gonna kill you all, you motherfu—

—End Act Two—

(There's a fight scene here, it's nothing special. The only noteworthy thing is that Riku summons some awfully familiar-looking poison miasma bees. Oh, and he takes a bunch of bees to the back to protect Towa, which leads us to the worst part of the whole episode…)

—Act Three: Wherein…You Know What? Just Read It For Yourselves. Trust Me.—

Riku: Agh! Towa, I've got to tell you that I used to work for Kirinmaru, that guy who wants to murder everything you love. Well, I used to work for him, but we both have *separate* schemes for the Rainbow Pearls, so it's been kind of awkward.

Towa: Yeah, yeah. Whatever, sure. Have I told you that I kind of have a crush on you?

Riku: Oh. Well, that's nice and all, but I don't know if you heard— [Setsuna and Moroha conveniently arrive]

Setsuna:Towa, you had one job. How are you so bad at this? Plus, this Riku guy is definitely a creep! He smells like our worst enemy! It's weird!

Towa: I know, isn't it hot?

Moroha: Um. [Riku brutally decapitates Totetsu, leaving his head to gasp and twitch on the ground. It's honestly pretty metal]

Riku: I'm just so good at murdering things. Wowzers!

Towa: You see, so trustworthy! In fact, he's so trustworthy that I'm just going to give him my Silver Pearl!

Moroha: Wait, what!?

Setsuna: That is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing you could possibly do at this moment. What on earth would make you think, even for a second, that—

Towa: Already done, no takebacks! Byeeeeeee!

Riku: Um….Okay? Peace out, then! [Riku dips out]

Setsuna: Was that really okay, handing over your Pearl like that? With those Rainbow Pearls he'll have immense demon power. We can only hope that their rightful owner won't use them for evil… [Towa looks very shocked by this ridiculously obvious point]

Moroha: And wasn't Mr. Riku working with Kirinmaru?

Towa: That's right!? I changed my mind! Give me back my Silver Pearl!!! Riku, wait!

Riku: Haha. No.

—End Episode—

You know what the kicker is? That final exchange up there is taken word-for-word from the dialogue in the final scene. What more is there to say, when Yashahime's actual script becomes virtually indistinguishable from my bitter snark? It's one thing to try and blend some humor into your fantasy adventure story, but it's another thing altogether for the show to make its ostensible lead heroine into such an incompetent joke. This week's Half-Star of Pity comes from the single redeeming moment of the entire episode: Moroha finally got herself a corpse head to sell! Good for you girl! Now go buy yourself a hot meal, a fresh set of clothes, and a one-way ticket out of this show, because Lord knows it isn't doing you any favors.

#anti yashahime #anti hanyo no yashahime #anti sunrise #anti towa #anti moroha

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ladyoutlier · 5 years

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Here Today Gone Tomorrow

In which God drunkenly restarts the universe and Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves in the role of Adam and Eve.

[Read on AO3] | [Read My Other Fics]

Chapter 1: Take it from the Top

God really thought Armageddon would do it. She really thought that after 6000 years of buildup, surviving the End of the World would’ve pushed her OTP into pure, raw romance. But that’s not what happened. Sure, they were closer now than ever. They fully embraced being on their own side. They awaited a future together. Them against the world. But they still hadn’t so much as hugged not to mention something as simple as saying I love you. The world had almost been destroyed, and they still weren’t together together!

They were still playing their little dance that they had been since literally the beginning of time, and God was quite done with being subtle. She was going to do something about it, but first, she was going to get mad drunk.

Now, a drunk God is a really, really scary thing. Absolutely anything can happen. Suddenly, gravity works in a completely different way. The less mass an object has, the greater its gravitational pull. Or maybe a new species gets invented. That is how the platypus came into existence after all. Alcohol and God is simply not the most calming of combos. And this time… oh it was something to be very scared of, indeed.

God had drank roughly an ocean full of liquor when She decided on a plan. “Fuck it!” She cried, stumbling over a pile of creation dust. “If they won’t just get to—together on their own. I. Me, I’ll just do what I did with the hu—hum… monkey people. Garden all to themselves. Only them. Take it from the top!”

And with that, God pulled the great big lever that reset the entire universe.

Aziraphale woke in a garden absolutely and completely naked. The name Adam, circled in his head as if he was for some reason now meant to be called that. Poppycock, he thought. That name isn’t fitting at all.

This was quite the bizarre scenario. He was sure he had been in his bookshop the night before. He and Crowley had shared quite a few drinks celebrating the averted Apocalypse. Now, he was quite definitely not there. To add to the strangeness of the whole thing, he had never slept before in his life, and yet, he had most definitely awoken here. In Eden.

Eden? Why did he want to call this Eden? And why did he think the name Adam belonged to himself? This couldn’t be Eden. It hadn’t existed for thousands of years! He sat up, blades of grass tickling his naked skin as he moved. This wouldn’t do at all. He snapped his fingers, and his familiar outfit returned to him.

This was Eden; he was sure of it. The plant life. The looming surrounding wall. He was in Eden and suppose to be Adam. How ridiculous! This must be a dream. He had never slept before, but he must have now. Only that could explain this absolute absurdity. A faint breathing took his attention back down to the ground beside him.

Oh. Oh, he most definitely was dreaming. On the ground beside him, nearly touching him, was Crowley who was sporting his birthday suit just as much as Aziraphale had moments ago. He was Adam, and Crowley was… Eve. He was supposed to be Eve. Oh, this had to be a dream.

Before the angel could think another thought, the demon stirred awake. He blinked his eyes several times in a confused manner before he spoke. “Ad—Aziraphale, why in the name of Satan is the name Eve floating about my head? And why did I almost call you Adam?” He took the same wild look around that Aziraphale had moments ago. “And why are we in bloody Eden?”

“So, you’re just as confused as I am, and this isn’t a dream?”

“I’d think not. Unless we’re both having the same one.”

Aziraphale stared at him. As peculiar as the situation had found itself, it hardly worked as a distraction from Crowley’s current, ahem, lack of clothing.

“Wot?” The demon glanced down to himself. “Oh for the love of—” He snapped his fingers in a rather hasty, upward movement, and his signature style returned to him. He looked back to Aziraphale with a rather exasperated expression. “As if it’s not something you’ve seen before.”

“Oh, yes. Quite right. Bigger things to attend to. Or not bigger. Poor word choice. More important, yes. Like what’s going on.” The angel quickly stood and brushed himself off before charging into the wilderness in front of them.

“Right…” Crowley drawled on, still baffled by, well, everything. He took a moment to raise an eyebrow to Aziraphale’s words before tailing him into the wild.

Somewhere on an ethereal plane, God, in a drunken slur, cursed. She hadn’t really been listening to anything that was said. If She had, maybe She would’ve controlled Her rage a bit more. As it was, all She was able to register was that they both had put their clothes back on much too quickly.

Aziraphale and Crowley walked in silence for a few minutes, pushing past leaves and branches as they delved deeper into Eden. Every detail down to the pebbles half-buried in the dirt was completely accurate to the Eden the two of them remembered from 6 millennia earlier. But why it existed now and why they were here was a complete and utter mystery.

“So do you have a plan or are we just taking a nice stroll through Eden for the scenery?” Crowley asked, swatting the branch of a fruit tree out of the way.

“Ah, well, no. I figured exploring our surroundings would be more effective than just sitting in the same spot completely baffled. As for a specific plan, I haven’t got one.”

“Think it’s some trick? Some dastardly plan from Above and Below given their inability to kill us?”

“I don’t know how they would manage a thing like this. Something as large scale as this could only be accomplished...”

“By the Almighty.”

“Indeed.”

That was a horrifying realization. The Almighty hadn’t directly interfered with the world since Noah built his ark or since Jesus lived. To even consider that God had altered the world so much, especially with the knowledge that the End of the World was supposed to be the day before… it invoked shivers.

Crowley rather fumbled with his words as his mind raced on laps ahead of his mouth. A series of fragmented sentences was all he was able to verbalize. “But God can’t have—I mean why would She—what purpose would it—and us as Adam and Eve. Why?”

“I don’t know. Um, careful with the questions, Crowley. You know where they lead.”

“What? Going to Fall again, am I?”

“No, I mean that you’re supposed to be Eve. Eve hasn’t taken from the Tree of Knowledge yet.”

“What the Hell are you on about? Is another me going to show up? Hardly need that. I’m a bigger sinner than Eve could ever dream of being. Don’t need some pathetic fruit to prove that. And—” He waved his arms about wildly. “With that logic, we should both be walking around with a lot more bare skin exposed. Adam and Eve were hardly all that modest before eating the apple. Rather not do that though. Mosquitoes are more Hell incarnate than demons are. I’d say we’re in the post-apple stage if anything.”

Aziraphale absorbed Crowley’s words. A rather frustrated wrinkle appeared on his brow. “I must say, none of this really makes any sense.”

“You think?!?” the demon huffed, stomping in a quick circle. “We save the world one day and wake up the next to find it reverted back to day one. Gabriel really was an idiot for his God doesn’t play games with the universe remark. Complete knob head.”

“Where do you think he is?”

“Dunno. Up in Heaven I presume. Why should I care?”

“If we’ve found ourselves in a new role… perhaps the rest of the universe has as well.”

“That sure would make an even bigger mess of things, but it’s not like they deserve it any less than we do.”

“Deserve would imply that we did something wrong. That the Almighty is punishing us. If that’s the case, I have no clue what for.”

“Yeah, crazy to think God would punish us and not explain what for. Completely out of character that. She probably just got piss faced.” Crowley took a few steps back and faced the sky. “She can bloody well just put it all back now!”

“Crowley! You can’t just yell things like that!”

“Why the blasted Hell not? Earth was the only thing we had going for us, and now it’s gone swirling down the porcelain throne.”

“The Almighty seems to be paying more attention now than ever. You might have been able to get away with such blasphemy before, but now She might be a bit more, um, testy.”

“If She wanted me to be all holier than thou, then She shouldn’t have left me a demon when She reset the world.” He grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You should be pissed too. She took everything away. Everything. Remember that little talk we had before we decided to avert the Apocalypse? All those human luxuries that were worth saving? All that’s gone. No more fine wine, sushi dinners, cars. Your books are gone, Aziraphale. All of ‘em. Just like that.”

“They—they’re just physical things. Nothing I can’t live without.” Despite his words, the angel’s expression said otherwise.

“How can you say that? This isn’t some minor inconvenience like if a waiter brought you the wrong dish. Everything’s screwed.”

“We still have each other.”

And that was a comment that Crowley couldn’t argue with. He released Aziraphale and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Yeah guess so. That’s something. More than something.”

“We’ll figure out what’s going on. Fix it if we can.”

“And if we can’t.”

“Learn to live with it. What else could we do?”

“Challenge God?”

“That sounds like a good way to turn a bad scenario into a worse one.”

Crowley shrugged in mild agreement. “Hasn’t worked out well for me in the past.”

“I guess the next step would be to find somebody, so we can properly determine the extent of the problem.”

As if God Herself heard that (She didn’t. She was too busy fighting the cork off a bottle of wine to be bothered by Her failure of an OTP.), someone showed up.

“Eve. Oh, Eve. Aren’t you getting hungry?” a rather familiar ribity voice asked.

Crowley about choked on absolutely nothing upon hearing that. He and Aziraphale turned to the source of the voice. Pitch black eyes of a rather enormous frog stared back at them from a rather prickly bush. Although this particular demon wasn’t known for this particular form, Crowley recognized him nonetheless.

“No!” Crowley whined. “They didn’t get you to do my job, did they? Ugh, a real classless act. No style.”

The frog that was Hastur, Duke of Hell, leapt out from the bush and transformed back into his more humanly appearance, wearing a night dark robe. “It’s your own fault, Crowley. You betrayed us. Of course you lost your job.”

“Yeah, but you? Literally any other demon would’ve been a better fit.”

That seemed to hit exactly the nerve Crowley intended. Hastur narrowed his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m only supposed to get you to eat the apple. Otherwise, humanity might’ve not had a future this time around.”

“Wait. So many questions. You’re just fine with this strange world reset thingy? And what’re you on about with that humanity’s future bit.”

“Ha. Like I’m telling you anything, traitor.”

“Sorry to intrude on this reunion,” Aziraphale, who had been watching silently, now spoke up. “But I must insist, whoever you are, that you tell us what you know.”

Hastur turned his attention to the angel. The frog on his head caught a fly from the air. “I don’t take orders from those Upstairs. You’ll have to go to one of your own for answers. Although, I heard they’re more of Hell than Heaven nowadays.”

“Explain yourself!”

A sly smile grew from Hastur’s lips. “You haven’t heard? Archangel Gabriel has found himself, ah, demoted. His position has been taken over by Lord Beelzebub.”

Crowley burst into a fit of laughter. He heavily leaned on a tree for support. “Even though that’s obviously a bald-faced lie, it’s absolutely hilarious.”

“Don’t believe me? Why don’t you ask him yourself? Heard his new job was guarding the Eastern Gate.” Hastur gave a quick smug glance to Aziraphale before looking back to Crowley. “And do eat the apple before you go. It is part of your job as much as it is mine.”

Crowley plucked an apple from the tree. “Angel, let’s go meet the new you then.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied, still eyeing Hastur rather warily. “Perhaps he will be more willing to provide answers.”

Two pairs of wings, one black and one white, entered this earthly plane and appeared on their respective angel’s and demon’s backs. With a forceful take off, Aziraphale and Crowley took flight to the east, leaving the Duke of Hell behind on the ground below. Crowley tossed the apple in his hand a few times before chucking it at the shrinking form of Hastur.

“You might’ve got my job,” he called down. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll help you do it!”

God snorted off wherever She was. Either She had finally drank enough to become slap happy, or She had forgotten how funny of a stubborn bastard She had made Crowley. Honestly, it was likely a bit of both.

Crowley forgot how clean the air was in the beginning. The sky of Eden felt a whole lot healthier than the 6000 year old one of yesterday. Of course, it hardly mattered as the demon didn’t do much flying back in modern day. It just wasn’t worth the miracle it would take to alter people’s memory after a nice flight.

“Crowley, who was that? One of your old coworkers obviously, but which one in particular?”

“Hastur, Duke of Hell. Although guess he’d have my old name if we’ve got Adam and Eve’s. Crawly. Ugh, can’t believe I went by that as long as I did.”

“For confusion’s sake, let’s just address everyone by their proper names. I prefer to think of the new names as a bestowment of a role rather than a replacement identity. I rather like being me.”

“Works for me. Don’t think I could call anyone else Aziraphale beside you anyways.”

As the Eastern Gate neared, it became obvious that there was indeed someone guarding it. A winged figure grew into view, but this individual didn’t have just two wings as Aziraphale and Crowley did. No, this person had six, three layered on each side. Only a few specific angels had wings like this, and all of them were Archangels.

“Do you suppose that Hastur fellow was being honest?” Aziraphale asked in response to seeing the Archangel’s form.

“It’d be a first for him,” was the extent of Crowley’s reply.

They landed on the Wall. A wave of uncomfortable deja vu flooded through Aziraphale. This was all like a memory but one that was corrupted by a nightmare. There indeed was a Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and it most certainly wasn’t him but rather Archangel Gabriel just as Hastur had said. The Archangel even sported the same robe that Aziraphale had worn all those years ago. However, unlike Aziraphale, Gabriel still wielded his flaming sword.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale called rather hesitantly. He was hardly comfortable around the Archangel considering he had sentenced him to death just the day before. “Would you mind explaining what’s going on?”

Gabriel turned to face them with his infamous false-happy grin plastered to his face. He looked less than surprised to see them. “Uh, obviously the Almighty was upset that The End of the World didn’t go off as intended, so She reset the whole universe to make it happen this time. And we all got new jobs because of our failure to perform, duh.” He shook his head as if Aziraphale was the most stupid being he’s ever come across.

“That—that’s hardly a logical deduction!”

“Do you think this happening after you and your demon pal’s mess up is just a coincidence? This is a direct result of your actions, Aziraphale. Although I guess that name is mine now.” Gabriel’s smile turned rather bitter.

“Yeah, he’ll be keeping his name.” Crowley took a step between the two angels. “And if God really got all pissy that the end times didn’t kick off, She could’ve jump started them Herself. Would’ve cost roughly the same amount of energy as doing this!”

“Back off, demon,” Gabriel replied, pointing his sword towards Crowley. “Sure, holy water left you unscarred, but I doubt this will.”

God abandoned the bottle of wine She had been nursing and instead summoned a bag of freshly popped popcorn. Now, this was entertainment: the demon acting as a shield between his love and Gabriel. Maybe this plan was working out.

“There’s no need for violence!” Aziraphale cried, pulling Crowley back to his side. “I think we can all agree that we’re quite unhappy with our given arrangement and would like things to return to normal. Can we not agree to that?”

“Yes. I think we can all agree to that.” Hastur’s voice caused both Aziraphale and Crowley to turn around rather quickly. The Duke of Hell had joined them on the Wall, black smoke still pooling from where he landed.

“Funny. Thought you would love this, Hastur,” Crowley replied, sauntering over. “You get all of Satan’s fun jobs this go about.”

“I don’t enjoy the idea of living in your shadow for the next 6000 years.”

“And I thought you said Lord Beelzebub has taken over Gabriel’s role. That seems more than advantageous for Hell. Why would you want to give that up unless, of course, you were lying?” Aziraphale asked in a very passive aggressive tone.

“Oh, I’ve got the answer for that one,” Gabriel answered. “Beezy’s not that well off up there. They may have stolen my job, but they are very much still vulnerable to holy water, and oh, we’ve got a lot of it up there.”

“You didn’t kill them did you?!?” Hastur growled, charging directly up to Gabriel.

“Ah, no not going to answer that one. Now back away, demon, or I can assure you that you’ll never find out.”

Gabriel waved the sword between himself and Hastur. The Duke of Hell backed up in a rather quick fashion with a less than intimidating expression on his face.

“If it was my choice, of course I would’ve chosen to keep my old job over something as lowly as this.” Gabriel turned to speak to Aziraphale. His sword, however, remained pointed at Hastur. “But this was the Almighty’s decision. Do you really want to go against God’s Plan, Aziraphale? Are you left with any faith or has your demon left you with none?”

“Of course I trust the Almighty!” Aziraphale replied, taking a step forward. “But just as I believed that She didn’t wish to destroy the world, I can’t imagine She wanted us all to be so unhappy. Wanted to undo everything that’s been done.”

Gabriel lowered the sword and approached Aziraphale, halting just a few inches in front of him. “This isn’t permanent. Is that what you think? That God has done this for good? Honestly? You really should’ve spent more time Upstairs when you had a chance. Could’ve picked up on some things. No, this is obviously some kind of test, and once we pass, everything goes back to normal.”

“If it is so obvious, could you please inform the rest of us on what exactly this test involves?” Aziraphale asked, still staring the Archangel in the eyes. He leaned ever so slightly forward into Gabriel’s personal space. Just a few days ago, he would’ve never dreamed of speaking to a superior in such a strict, demanding way, but the End of the World had changed all that.

“Just do your job well,” Gabriel replied with a shake of his head. “The Almighty gave us new ones for a reason. So do good work. Get rewarded. In this case, everything goes back to normal. Simple.”

“Wait,” Crowley began with a hand on his hip. “Your idea of what’s going to fix all this is for us all to pretend to be someone else as if we were actors putting on a play for God? That’s what’s going to put everything back to normal?”

“Well, don’t just copy what’s already been done. Do it better. Like how I’m holding onto this sword and not losing it. Make improvements like that.”

“Improving Crowley’s work is far from a difficult task.” Hastur said, still keeping his distance. His petrification from Gabriel’s threats may have worn off, but the lesson remained learned.

“Really? Can’t wait to see how you handle that,” Crowley replied, not even bothering to turn around.

“Any other demon would’ve been a better fit...” Hastur responded, throwing Crowley’s own words back in his face.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the two bickering demons before looking back at Gabriel. “How are we supposed to do a more outstanding job than Adam and Eve? Can you even improve upon a job with no criteria?”

“Uh, not my problem. You two need to figure out how to make a human together or something. You’re the Earth expert. Not me.” The Archangel gestured to Eden below. “For starters, I’d get back down there. Adam and Eve lived in the garden. Not on the Wall surrounding it.”

“Is that actually all you’re going to give us?”

“Uh, yeah. I really don’t like you.” Gabriel’s eye twitched. “Now go. And take the demon with you. Both of them actually if you can.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Come on, Crowley. I’m rather done here.” He grabbed the demon’s hand, which was currently flipping off Hastur, before he could reply and jumped off the Wall with him.

They freefalled for a moment before catching the wind and soaring back up into the air. They only heard a few final words as they left the Eastern Gate to return to Eden below.

“I think we’re scheduled for a talk, Archangel.”

A demon and an angel stood on the Wall of Eden, but it very much so was the wrong angel and demon. A thunderstorm rumbled in the sky. It would be the first rain of the new world, yet there would be no act of kindness shared up on the Wall during it. All of the kindness would be left down in the greenery of Eden this time around. But God didn’t mind. She was instead rather captivated by Crowley and Aziraphale holding hands as they soared through the air.

[Chapter 2]

#Good Omens #Gomens #Ineffable Husbands #Good Omens fic #my writing

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 2

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 3,884 for this chapter (9,268 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

It's going to take a lot more than a couple of dissociative episodes between embarrassing himself on camera for Dan to, like, be comfortable with everything that hanging out with Phil might mean or might lead to, but he knows he has a bit of a habit of overthinking, so. He empties his entire suitcase onto the hotel bed and tries to find something suitably casual but cute, because he can admit that much to himself: he wants Phil to think he's cute.

Dan spends too long on his clothes, finally deciding on some ripped jeans and a striped jumper just as his alarm goes off. He eyes his hair in the mirror - he can either leave now and meet Phil on time, or he can straighten his hair and be half an hour late.

Shrugging at himself, Dan slips his phone and wallet into his bag. He doesn't care so much about his hobbit hair when he isn't going to be on camera.

"What is that," Dan deadpans.

"It's for vlogging," says Phil, waving the small camera around. He almost drops it and Dan steadies it. "Oops, thanks. Don't worry, I don't have to film you if you don't want, I just always need stock footage of Thor."

"For your endscreen," says Dan. He knows that, now.

Phil beams at him. God, those eyes are like a targeted attack without the barrier of his glasses. "Yeah! Anyway, hi!"

"Hi," Dan echoes, a smile tugging on his own lips. "I was promised a corgi, you know."

"I thought we could get coffee first," says Phil. He puts one of his hands in his jacket pocket, the other still clutching the vlogging camera. "I'm really bad at juggling my drinks and his lead."

"Fair enough. I'd drop everything, too."

When Phil laughs and turns to walk in the wrong direction, Dan allows himself a moment to just look before gently reminding him that the coffee shop is the other way.

Dan tracks the movement of Phil's hands as he talks about London so that he doesn't keep looking at his shoulders, his thighs. He's so expressive that he almost drops his camera twice more before Dan quietly takes it and stuffs it in his own backpack for safekeeping.

Phil looks good today in well-fitted black jeans and a bright red shirt under his denim jacket. There are pins on the pocket that Dan desperately wants to know the story behind. It all really makes Dan wish that he'd taken the time to pull the straighteners through his hair, but whatever. He thinks being late would have been worse.

"But you're from around here, right?" Phil says, interrupting his own tirade about the best tourist traps. "You know all this."

"Near Reading," says Dan. He holds the door of the café open, smirking when Phil almost keeps walking right by it. Phil sticks his tongue out. "I dunno, I didn't come to the city all that much. No friends and no money meant I just played RuneScape til my eyes bled."

"Oh my god, RuneScape," says Phil. "Talk about a blast from the past."

They chat about various websites they'd lost their teenage years to until it's time for them to order. Phil rolls his eyes when Dan hangs back, intending to pay for his own drink, and curls his fingers around Dan's wrist to drag him forward.

Dan is a little transfixed by the sight and feel of Phil's hand around him. The barista has to ask him four times what he wants, and he stammers it out like he's never spoken to another human being before.

Phil lets go of Dan to pay, chattering at the tired-looking barista until they smile, and Dan has to put his hands in his back pockets so he doesn't do something stupid like reach for Phil again. He doesn't even register that Phil has stopped talking to the barista and started talking to him again until Phil snaps his fingers in front of his nose.

"Uh, what?" Dan asks, blinking back to reality.

"You were on another planet," Phil laughs. He doesn't seem to mind much. "You wanna sit and talk or walk and talk?"

"Always sit," says Dan. "Unless you can lie down, I guess. Then lie down."

"I don't think they'll let us lie on the floor," Phil muses, taking their drinks from the counter with another bright smile at the workers. "But thank god, I didn't want to walk more than I have to."

Dan follows Phil to a table, feeling a bit like a lost puppy. "Then why did you offer, doofus?"

"Wanted you to think I was someone who walked just for the hell of it," says Phil. He's still smiling, it shouldn't even be allowed.

"I'd like you a lot less if you were," Dan jokes, stirring his macchiato absently. "I'm lazy as fuck, mate."

"Same," says Phil. "So how was BuzzFeed?"

"It was alright," Dan says, wincing. "They talked to us about memes from the show, kept calling us by nicknames we didn't consent to, and I swear they were just waiting for me to fuck up the whole time."

"Did you?"

"Not a lot," says Dan. "Just tripped. Didn't even fall."

With a quiet laugh, Phil raises his coffee cup. "Well, hello, let's celebrate that."

Dan snorts despite himself. He bops his disposable cup against Phil's and takes a long drink from it.

"How was your day, filming?"

The way Phil's face lights up when he gets to talk about making a video has Dan's heart doing double time. He talks to Dan about it with the same passion he'd talked about London, gesticulating a lot and smiling at Dan like he's the only person in the room. Dan hears everything Phil is saying but retains roughly zero of it, too busy looking at the way thin lines around Phil's eyes crinkle when he's happy.

"It's nothing too crazy," says Phil, as if Dan has any earthly idea what they're talking about. "But I always get so excited when I can do something more... I don't know, creative? Really put my master's to work."

"Your masters?" Dan asks, bewilderment knocking him back into the conversation. "Think it's a little early in the friendship to tell me about your BDSM shit."

Phil blinks at him and then laughs, loud, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. His blue-green-yellow eyes are sparkling as he looks at Dan like he's the funniest person in the world. "Oh my god, Dan, my master's degree. From uni. Where the hell does your mind come up with this stuff?"

"Pardon me," says Dan, "I need to go walk into traffic."

"So it's not just interviews you do this in," says Phil, still grinning. He gestures vaguely at Dan's entire being. "This is just... what you're like."

"Yeah," Dan says miserably.

"It's endearing," Phil assures him.

"So you have a master's degree," says Dan. He can feel the heat in his face, knows he's all red and patchy. He knows he looks and sounds ridiculous right now.

Thankfully, Phil allows him to change the subject with nothing more than a smirk. "I do, it's a post-production thing I spent way too much time on. You want to uni in Manchester, didn't you?"

"I did," Dan says, a little surprised by Phil knowing that. "I mean, I didn't finish uni, but I did go for a bit."

"I grew up near Manchester," says Phil, "so that kind of stuck out when I read up on you, because I was like, what if we had mutual friends back then? Went to the same parties? What if we passed each other on the street and I didn't know I was looking at someone who was gonna be famous? It was a whole, like, existential thing."

Dan's heart feels like it's going to burst, but he just laughs. "Me? Parties? Friends? Going outside? You're drastically overestimating my uni life."

"Guess so," Phil laughs.

Like it's second nature to keep the conversation going - and as a radio host slash YouTuber, it might be - Phil offers up stories from his own time at university and asks Dan a bunch of questions about everything under the sun. Dan barely has the presence of mind to answer them accurately, let alone ask any questions of his own, and it feels a bit like he's sitting for another interview. He doesn't mind much, though, because Phil listens so intently and is really good at jumping onto new conversation threads at points that feel right.

Before Dan knows it, their drinks are long empty. He could probably get another and just sit here and talk to Phil about video games for ten hours straight, but he doesn't want to give up the option of meeting Phil's dog.

They keep chatting while Phil leads the way to his place. Dan manages to think of some questions and ask them; Phil manages to get them hopelessly lost for a few minutes while trying to rattle off fifteen hamster names in a single breath.

Dan pretends to get a phone call when they reach Phil's stoop. He isn't sure he's emotionally prepared for being in AmazingPhil's flat, or Phil's flat for that matter, and he'd rather stand awkwardly on the pavement than deal with that. It's a narrow brick building, snug in the middle of a whole row of narrow brick buildings, and looking at it almost makes Dann feel claustrophobic after so many years in the boroughs of Atlanta, Chicago, Los Angeles.

He doesn't feel homesick for any of the places he'd couch-surfed or filmed in, exactly, but he does feel a little homesick for privacy from nosy neighbours. He feels like someone is watching him through their blinds right now, and knowing what he knows of the British elderly, there probably is.

All thoughts of America are thrown unceremoniously from Dan's mind when the blue front door swings open again and Phil reappears with Thor at his heels.

"Oh, look at you," Dan coos, his voice going into the soft one he reserves for cute animals and small children. He's crouching down before he can even remember giving his body the command, and Thor gives him a quizzical sort of head tilt.

"It's okay," says Phil. His voice is soft, too, way sweeter than Dan has heard it before. Dan wouldn't be opposed to hearing it more often. "Say hi, Thor."

As if he was waiting for Phil to give him the go-ahead - maybe he was, Dan doesn't know fuck about training dogs - Thor barks once and jumps up, putting his stumpy front legs on Dan's knees and allowing Dan to give him scritches. Dan's eyes well up a little bit and he chokes the tears back as he pets the soft, small, very good boy.

"Hello, oh my goodness, you're such a good, good boy, your fur is so soft and pretty and I would fall upon my sword to keep your tail wagging, do you understand me? Do you even know?"

"Oh, he knows," Phil says, fond. "Fall upon your sword?"

"I'm not even a little kidding," says Dan. He can't stop staring at Thor's puppy eyes and perked ears. "I'd legit die for this dog."

"Same, but he wouldn't even appreciate it," says Phil. He gives Thor's lead a tiny tug, and Thor yips, abandoning Dan to wind himself through Phil's long legs a couple times.

Dan grins like an idiot as he looks up at Phil, and Phil grins right back at him. It takes a moment before Dan realises that he's still crouched on the pavement and he's very much eye-level with -

He stands up so fast that he has to blink spots out of his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, totally," Dan stammers. He has no idea what they're talking about anymore. His brain has gotten tripped up on the idea of being on the floor in front of Phil like it's a record scratch. He's pretty sure that Phil can tell, there's no way it's not all over his flushed face right now, but Phil just laughs and lets Thor lead the way down the street.

"He's way better at navigating than me," says Phil. He sounds so casual. Dan is focusing on not walking into a lamppost. "And that's really good for some stuff, but he also brings me to the park when I'm trying to go to the shop."

"Right," says Dan.

"Oh, can you grab my camera?" Phil asks as if he's just remembered its existence.

"Yeah." Dan is thrilled to have a task that doesn't involve thinking about Phil's body more than he ought to be. He digs around in his bag and fiddles around with the settings on the camera while Thor takes a leak. "This is pretty cool. You want me to hold it for you?"

Phil grins. "You wanna film me?"

"That's not what I said, I -"

"Sure."

"- didn't mean - sure?"

"Sure," Phil repeats, tongue between his teeth as he smiles. "I don't usually have someone to help me out."

So Dan films some stock footage for the AmazingPhil endscreen, because that is what's become of his life, somehow. He gets a new perspective on Thor doing various dog things on the walk to the park, laughs every time Thor or Phil do something cute, and feels his heart start to swell more every time he sees Phil's answering smile.

As soon as they get to the dog park and take him off the lead, Thor is zooming off to bark with his friends. Dan keeps rolling and just turns the camera on Phil, who pulls a silly face.

"Is this what a day in the life of AmazingPhil is like?" Dan asks in his best announcer voice. Phil giggles.

"Honestly, no," says Phil. His hands are in his pockets and, despite a camera being on him, he isn't using his camera voice. It's all a very good look. "I stay home and answer emails until Thor forces me to stop working."

"I don't know if I could have a dog," Dan says. "I'm too fucking busy. Aren't you busy?"

"Gonna have to bleep that," says Phil, which Dan guesses is more as an aside to himself, since he doesn't pause for Dan to apologise. "Yeah, I'm really busy. Like. All the time. But I stopped being so careful for a little while, there, during some family stuff, and made a pretty impulsive decision or two. Thor was one of those, and I honestly don't regret it."

"Ooh, what else did you do? Get a tattoo? Join a cult?"

Phil winks. Tries to, anyway. He mostly just blinks a little out of sync like he's got something in his eye. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The cackle that's surprised out of Dan is not at all an attractive sound, but it makes the happy crinkles around Phil's eyes deepen, so. Worth getting it on tape. He's not even sure that Phil will use this footage for anything.

Dan turns the camera off and slips it back into his backpack so he can fully focus on taking photos of various dogs on his phone. He and Phil migrate to a bench where they don't have to interact with any of the other dog parents milling around.

"God, I love dogs," says Dan.

Phil laughs at him but nods in agreement. "So do I. Well, I love basically all animals, but dogs are the best kind."

"Is it good, having Thor?" Dan asks. "Even though you're busy?"

"Yeah," says Phil. "I mean, do I wish I could give him more of my time? Of course. But having something else relying on me to function has forced me to take better care of myself. I couldn't keep working myself to the bone when I had this tiny thing who needed attention and, like, proper routine."

"They do say that having animals is good for your mental health," says Dan. "Maybe the routine thing is part of why."

"Not to mention the unconditional love." Phil grins and whistles over at a group of small dogs, who all perk up. "Thor, c'mere!"

Thor happily bounds over to them on his stout little legs, and Dan coos when Phil picks him up, sets him in Dan's lap. The dog seems fine with this development, giving Dan's nose a lick.

"Oh, hello," Dan breathes.

"What do you think?" asks Phil. "Is it worth turning down some work opportunities for this little dude?"

"Yes," says Dan. He's petting Thor and feels his eyes start to water when Thor lolls his tongue out in a goofy sort of grin. "Yeah, I mean - I personally still move around too much to get my own dog, but it makes sense for you. If I had a home base, maybe I'd consider it more seriously."

"Yeah," Phil agrees, sounding happy. Then he clears his throat. "Feel free to tell me off, but can I get a picture of the two of you? You're just so sweet with him."

"Course you can," says Dan. "Tag me on Instagram."

When he looks up from scratching Thor's ears, Dan is taken aback by the softness in Phil's expression. It's gone as soon as it appeared, fleeting, and Phil grins as he pulls out his phone. "I just figured you wouldn't want to, like, make this a public thing."

"I don't mind," says Dan.

There are some people who he probably would mind that for. Usually the same people who call him Dan even after he says not to. They just want to seem closer to him than they are in order to further their own agendas.

Phil isn't like that. Dan has known him for only a handful of days, but the man is so genuine in every interaction they've had that Dan doesn't feel like this is put on to gain some kind of audience.

It's fun and easy to let Phil take silly pictures of Dan, teary eyed with a dog in his lap. It's just as easy for Dan to take the phone out of his hand and snap a selfie of the three of them. And it's even easier still to take shots and short videos of Phil rolling around in the grass once Thor has had enough of sitting still. They go back and forth for what might be actual hours, training their phones on each other like they're just regular friends hanging out.

By the time Phil puts his phone away, Dan's stomach is grumbling loud enough for the whole park to hear.

Phil laughs, but it isn't a mean one. "C'mon, I should get Thor home, and you need to eat."

It isn't an invitation to keep hanging out, exactly, but it isn't a dismissal either. Dan is impressed by Phil's ability to walk a line like that, to keep his own feelings on the matter a complete mystery.

As much as Dan would love to spend the rest of the afternoon following Phil around like a puppy, he has to spend some time recharging or he'll hate himself tomorrow.

"Yeah, my leftover Domino's is calling my name," Dan says lightly. "Then I've got to prepare myself for the pure horror that will be tomorrow's interviews with teen magazines, what the fuck, I'm not a Jonas brother."

"Nice teen reference," Phil deadpans.

"Shut up," says Dan. He scratches Thor's little head, looking down at him so he doesn't have to look at Phil's reaction to his probably-desperate-sounding, "We've gotta do this again."

"We do," Phil says, all warm and happy in a way that makes Dan flush pink, bite his lip. "I had fun."

"Me too," Dan admits. He sticks his hands in his pockets so he doesn't reach for Phil, fidgeting with the inner fabric. "Like, a lot of fun. I don't get to do this a lot."

"I figured - and neither do I. Text me when you're done your interviews tomorrow, yeah?"

It's a good moment for them to hug again, probably, but Dan doesn't think he can handle that. The more time he spends around Phil, the harder it is to ignore how badly he wants to feel Phil pressed up against him.

With a promise to text and an awkward salute of a wave, Dan tries to walk away. He only gets a few feet when Phil calls, "Oi, Dan, hold up a second."

Okay, so he's not getting away without another hug after all. Dan takes a deep breath to brace himself before turning to Phil again. "Yeah?"

"You," says Phil, smiling wide, "still have my camera."

Dan narrowly avoids facepalming by digging in his backpack and muttering apologies. Phil just keeps smiling at him. When he takes the camera back, Phil's fingers brush against Dan's wrist in a way where Dan can't tell if it's intentional or not.

"Sorry," Dan says again.

"It's okay," says Phil. He bites his lip, just for a moment, and then waves with the hand holding Thor's lead. "See you around!"

Messaging Phil is the only thing that keeps Dan sane through the next few days of both print and filmed interviews, the same questions over and over, publications dying for a new tidbit of information so they can be the first to talk about it. Dan is used to all of that, at this point, but it doesn't make things any less repetitive.

Phil sends him photos of Thor and chatters about his own day and generally gives Dan something to look forward to. Dan doesn't think he's ever hit it off with someone so quickly.

Granted, Dan hasn't actively tried making new friends since uni. He's an adult now, which means he's got work friends and people he plays MMOs with and a bunch of acquaintances on his Facebook who can't wait to catch up whenever he's in town.

That's not the way this thing with Phil feels. It's just as easy as their day together had been, talking about everything under the sun between their various responsibilities.

They talk about movies and television and video games, where they find that they've got a lot in common; and they talk about music and books, where they find they don't have much overlap at all. But Phil listens to Dan's rant on why Janelle Monáe changed the concept album game and so Dan, in turn, lets Phil waffle on about Stephen King in the middle of the night.

The fact that he has trouble sleeping afterwards is entirely irrelevant.

Dan learns a lot about Phil over these days. Not all of it is good, but nothing makes the festering warmth in Dan's gut start to recede. He's got a crush, and it's getting worse by the day.

"What a cutie," is Jaime's opinion when she sees the photoset on AmazingThorgi that Dan has been tagged in, which includes six pictures of the two of them and Thor at the park.

"He takes crap selfies," Dan tells her in case she wants to snoop Phil's personal Insta.

Jaime quirks her thick eyebrows in a way that makes Dan feel wrong-footed, like she can see directly into his soul. "I meant the dog."

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #dnp fic #words words words #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve

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mythicamagic · 5 years

Text

Body swap: Subayui Oneshot

I got another writing commission from @s-e-kwan, thanks!

Kou and Subaru swap bodies unexpectedly, with Yui none the wiser. A chaotic few hours ensue, with Yui and Subaru trying to navigate their feelings for one another despite the chaotic turn of events.

Rated T for language

(the pic isn’t linked with the fic I just wasn’t sure how to interpret the Body Swap trope into a pic lolol)

He didn’t exactly understand it.

One minute he’d been walking along the hallway, minding his own damn business, hands buried in his pockets and glaring as Kou friggin Mukami approached- the next he’d been staring at himself.

Subaru blinked, his mirror image looking shocked. He glanced around feeling like he were standing in a different spot. Hadn’t the windows been on his right? Now they were on the left?

“E-EH? Gah what the hell? I didn’t expect it to be like this!” The second Subaru squeaked, only to look down and pick at his torn clothes with distaste. “Well I am wearing the wardrobe of an emo hobo, so I must be Subaru.”

Subaru looked down at his hands dazedly. Huh. Why did they look so damn thin and effeminate? Wait- he was wearing so much jangly crap too! “What’s with these shit accessorises?”

The other Subaru whirled to glare at him. “Hey! I’ll have you know brands pay me tons of yen to wear their stuff on my beautiful body! Be grateful!”

“Your body?” Subaru growled, turning to a window in the hallway. Kou Mukami’s faint reflection stared back with wide eyes.

“WHAT THE FUCK! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!” He burst.

“KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN! AN IDOL CAN’T SWEAR!”

“Oh, hello Subaru!”

The girl who had been occupying his dreams lately walked by, stopping directly in-front of who he now guessed to be Kou. In HIS body.

Kou pointed to himself, red eyes wide and paling to the shade of his hair. “Y-you see me as Subaru?”

“Of course I do, silly.” Yui giggled, before glancing over at the real Subaru and waving. “Hello Kou!”

Subaru felt like he was going to be sick. He stormed up to her, wrapping his pink nailed fingers around her arms. “Yui, it’s me. I’m Subaru, I-I dunno how the fuck it happened though.”

She blinked, rose-pink eyes confused. She turned to Kou for assistance, “Kou’s acting a little strange, are you both playing a game?”

His expression subtly changed, and Subaru didn’t think it were possible, but he sincerely wanted to punch his own body, smash it right in its smug face. “Heh, yeah. Kou’s pretendin’ to act like me,” Kou purred, tugging her free from Subaru’s grip and wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Yui’s face flamed red, but didn’t protest, causing Subaru a whip-lash of emotions. “HAH? You damn liar!” He roared, smashing his fist into the wall. “Get off her, I’ll KILL you!”

Both of them only chuckled, Yui praising him for his wonderfully accurate impression. Subaru was about to try and convince her again when his arm was seized.

“Kou~ we have a photo session booked, you didn’t forget did you?” An older woman smiled, wearing a smart suit.

Subaru bristled. “Hah? I’m not going anywhere with y-“

“KOUUUU!” A hoard of teenage girls started to come running down the hallway toward him. “We heard you’re going to get your photos taken! Take us with you!”

Subaru paled, turning and grabbing Kou’s manager to at least take him the fuck outta there. Kou burst into laughter watching them and the ruckus of the fangirls following, while Yui blinked, glancing up at him quietly.

He eventually noticed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Heh, that was funny, huh?”

“I suppose…it’s just that I’ve never heard you laugh before,” she murmured, expression softening. “I like it.”

Kou blinked, shifting uncomfortably in the sudden silence of the hallway. A thought occurred to him then, and he gaped. “Crap! If he’s doing photos and stuff, he might make me look bad! I gotta go M nek- I-I mean Yui! Be right back!”

Bursting into a sprint, he ran down the hallway, leaving a confused Yui.

“Was he…about to call me M neko-chan?” She tilted her head and after a moments deliberation, decided to follow.

---

By the time Kou arrived in the drama department where the photo session would be held, Subaru had been wrestled into a sequin jacket and flashy gold pants. The situation seemed to have dumb-founded the Pure Blood enough to be tugged and styled, glancing around owlishly.

“Oh, sorry- you can’t be back here. This place was booked for idol Kou, since we had to work around his school schedule,” a member of staff approached Kou, wincing.

Kou blinked. He’d never been looked at that way before, like they’d discovered gum at the bottom of their shoe. “Ah it’s no biggie. Kou is a buddy of mine, aren’t I?”

“Piss off!” Subaru snarled, making several heads turn in the make-shift studio. “What the hell am I doing here?”

“It’s a photo shoot, dummy.” Kou shook his head, sighing. “Just look pretty for the cameras. You’re wearing my face so it won’t be an issue.”

Subaru snarled, before being tugged onto the set. He stood awkwardly under the blazing bright lights, while the photographers loomed around the side-lines with cameras.

“Um, Kou? Maybe relax a bit?”

“I am!” Subaru snapped, scowling.

Kou sighed, rubbing his forehead as he watched the train-wreck.

“Oh wait, hold that look, that’s the one!” Another photographer said, snapping photos the moment Subaru’s expression softened.

Blinking, Kou glanced around, wondering what had made the vampire change, before his attention landed on Yui. Subaru was staring straight at her.

The other members of staff seemed to notice and quickly grabbed her. “C’mon honey don’t be shy,” they soothed. “Wanna be on the front cover of a magazine? Just help our idol out, he must not be feeling well today.”

Yui squeaked as she was pushed, landing in strong arms. Looking up at the dazzling contours of his face coupled with blonde hair and blue eyes, she expected Kou’s signature smirk. Instead, something soft and conflicted stared back.

Her lips parted, heart thudding.

“Perfect!” The cameras snapped.

Kou on the side-lines chuckled. They’d be eaten alive in the real entertainment world if they exposed their hearts so easily.

Sensing something at his side, he glanced up, finding Reiji. “Well, this is unexpected,” the older vampire hummed.

-----

When the staff finally called for a break, Subaru sighed, glancing down at Yui. “So…have you seriously not noticed?”

Accepting a water-bottle from a staff member, Yui took a drink. “Hm? Noticed what?” She sighed, looking down at the pink dress they’d wrestled her into. “I’m really not cut out for this, Kou. I-I’m sorry.”

Gritting his teeth, Subaru couldn’t help but lean in, wrapping his arms around her. Yui squeaked, feeling herself be hugged tightly.

“K-kou?”

“Damn it, I can’t do this shit anymore,” Subaru hissed, pulling away. “It doesn’t matter if you haven’t realised. You’re better off with that guy anyway.”

Her hand automatically reached out as he pulled away, storming off and ignoring the photographers as they called after him.

When Kou stepped up to her side, she gazed up at the pale features she’d quietly adored for so long.

“Subaru?” She murmured, not sure why the name had come out as a question. Everything suddenly felt strange.

Pale lips curved, and the rough hands she was so familiar with took her hips, pulling her in. “Yeah? Heh, you look worried. Lemme fix that,” Kou muttered, red eyes glittering.

Yui’s stomach churned, turning her face at the last second, and causing his lips to press to her cheek. “Subaru, I-I don’t understand- Subaru!” She exclaimed when he roughly grabbed her chin and tilted it back, pressing his lips hard against her own.

Ripping herself away, Yui touched her mouth. “You’re not him,” she murmured, voice finding its strength. “Where’s Subaru?”

Kou sighed, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. “Damn it. No good, huh?”

“Please tell me!”

“Alright, alright,” holding up his hands, he quietly led her off-set, running a hand through his hair. “Mn…the person you’re looking at right now is actually Kou! Surprised?” Kou chuckled weakly.

Yui did not share the humour. “H-How?”

“Heh, let’s just say I wanted to see what would happen. Subaru’s brother was curious about the effects and didn’t mind using us as guinea pigs, so he sprayed this chemical into the air earlier. We inhaled it and swapped bodies. Don’t ask how, I’m no good with that magic or science stuff. I just know it lasts for a couple of hours.”

She turned away. “Then I have to find Subaru and apologise,” taking only a few steps however, she stopped. “I don’t know why you did it…but I hope you know you’re fine the way you are, Kou…” the words caused him to glance up, meeting kind eyes, “because, I thought you looked really cool when we first met. And I still think so.”

Kou could only stare after her, dazed as the human raced away. Always chasing Adam.

He sighed, smiling jadedly to himself. “I’ll steal you away from him one day, M neko-chan.”

---

Remaining on the roof, Subaru leaned against the iron bars and closed his eyes. The school bell had rung and students were starting to leave. He wondered if she’d already left with the bastard. He’d found himself in a different part of the school just a little while ago, looking at his hands and realising he’d changed back.

“Subar-! Ah, are you actually Subaru?”

His eyes snapped open as a voice cried out. Glancing at the door, Yui panted into view. She hurried over, still dressed in her pink flowing ball-room gown.

“Yeah. I guess so,” he muttered.

She hitched the strap over her shoulder, misjudging the distance and bumping into his chest.

“S-sorry,” she leaned back, looking determined. “I noticed!”

“I get the feelin’ you didn’t notice jack-shit,” he said flatly.

“Well, Kou eventually told me.”

“Hah?”

“But I figured it out first from his kiss while he still looked like you.”

“HA?! I’M GONNA KILL THAT BASTARD!”

Yui laughed, taking his startled face in her soft, petite hands. Her eyes warmed, imagining how the blonde strands must have given way to white. Her hands stroked over the plains of his face of their own accord, looking at his jaw, nose, eyes and…mouth.

“You’re such an air-head,” Subaru grumbled, cheeks heating.

Reluctantly nodding in agreement, Yui combed her fingers through his hair. “At least you look like yourself again now,” she murmured.

“Tch…always did hate my usual face.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she gently admonished.

Subaru tsked, hands catching her wrists. “How’d you know it was me from something like a kiss anyway?”

“W-well, I know we haven’t,” she stammered, making him raise a brow. “But it’s just, the type of kiss you’d give would definitely be different from that one, it would be like- mfh!”

His mouth pressed to hers, cutting Yui off mid-blab.

When he pulled away, her lashes slowly slid open, expression slightly dazed.

“Like that, huh?”

Yui nodded shyly, words failing her.

“Heh, you dumb idiot,” he chuckled, expression softening a touch as he tightened his arms, bringing her in once again.

#Diabolik lovers #subayui #subaru sakamaki #kou mukami #diahell #dialovers

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #242

“i don’t miss you, i miss the misery.”

How many pairs of converse shoes do you own? Hm... three or four? Any other names your parents planned to give you? The only one I *think* I remember is Katelyn. Thank fuck I dodged that bullet. Which is the most beautiful place you know? The mountains between NC and TN, if I remember correctly. I was very young. What do you work with? I don't work period & I hate it. Have you ever hit an animal with your car? Thank Christ no. Favorite ride at the amusement park? I guess ferris wheels. Favorite beauty essential in your bathroom cabinet? I don't have a "favorite" considering I don't use any regularly. Do you have many followers on your Tumblr? Nah. Do you tan easily? I burn like toast, man. Are you expecting something in the mail? No. Do you inspire others? Idk. What do you collect? Meerkat stuff and Silent Hill merch. Do you like cats? Hell yes!!! Are you healthy? If you excuse my weight and muscle atrophy, I'm actually pretty healthy, according to a billion tests I've gotten done when trying to discover *why* I had such awful pain in my legs. Have you ever been out of state? Yeah. Can you always blame your acts on that you were just too drunk? Fuck no. Three things you try to avoid as much as possible: Well dying lmao, getting hurt, public speaking. How many times have you been overseas? Zero. Do you use to have someone in mind when shopping for underwear? Wait what the fuck- What accent do you have? I don't really have one, although I do have a southern tone with some words sometimes I suppose. I also do say things like "y'all" or "fixing to (do something)," so I use some Southern terminology. Where would you like to live? The mountains of western NC. Sigh. Do you follow fashion? No. Do you have a big butt? Ever heard of Hank Hill Ass Syndrome? I have Hank Hill Ass Syndrome. Your worst job nightmare is: Customer service EVER again. Who’s the coolest rapper in the world? Idk and idc. Do you count how long you and your gf/bf have been together? I mean yeah, I think anniversaries are worth celebration. Healthy relationships aren't always easy to maintain; to remain in love takes forgiveness, loyalty, dedication... all that. It shouldn't be hard, but it takes effort. Have you graduated? High school, anyway. Rihanna or Lady Gaga? Lady Gaga, definitely. Do you use fake eyelashes? No. What’s your worst interior design nightmare: I dunno. Probably just being very crammed? What makeup brands do you use? I don't have any particular ones; I don't wear makeup enough. What’s the worst kind of rejection you could give someone? I genuinely feel it to be how Jason did so with me. Three and a half years in a very serious relationship, and he out of the blue breaks up with me over Facebook because my depression became "too much." Like by NOW I understand I can't shame him for wanting to be happy, but the way he did it was fucking cruel and tore me apart. Like especially when this person was your refuge from daily pain and pretty much your god and future (never make someone that, holy holy HOLY shit don't), that individual just suddenly having enough and breaking contact off like that was emotional murder. Do you have a crush on someone right now? Well yeah, but it's like... a "tamed" one? Is that an accurate word? Like I understand it just can't work right now, but it doesn't stop me from liking her. Is there anyone that many people think is hot, but you don’t? I'm sure there's someone. Do you sort and organize your clothes in some kind of way? Sorta. When somebody intimidates you, how do you usually act around them? Nervous, skittish, more awkward than usual. Is your favorite singer in a band or does he or she ride solo? Brendon Urie is in P!atD and Patrick Stump is in Fall Out Boy. Freddie Mercury was the vocalist of Queen. Did your parents ever hang your old artwork up on the walls? Yeah, Mom still has some up lmao. How often do you wear chapstick? Only when my lips are actually chapped. Do you walk around your house with your shoes on or do you take them off? Definitely off. What is the weirdest obsession you’ve ever had? Collecting stickers, maybe? How many of the seven deadly sins have you fulfilled today? Sloth is on the daily lmao, gluttony, and lust. Should guys always kiss the girl on a first date? Not always, of course not. It depends on the comfort level, and I would ALWAYS ask first. Which band has the corniest music videos? Corniest lyrics? I don't really watch music videos, and idk about lyrics. What subject is/was hardest for you in school? Math. Have any songs ever inspired you to play an instrument? No. Do you ever use Pandora? No. Are you better with creative writing or writing essays? I think I'm good at both, but I probably excel in creative writing. When was the last time you were rick rolled? No clue. What is the weirdest animal you’ve ever seen as a pet? Seen, I guess a chinchilla, though that's not really "weird." If you had to change one, would you rather change your hair or your eyes? Eyes. When was the last time you had a ‘she-mergency’? I had to look this up to be certain what that even was lmao. Probably some time I started my period at school and had to use folded toilet paper or something for a while. Which sounds creepier: sleeping in the attic or the basement? I'd say it depends on the make-up of each and its cleanliness. What was your favorite computer game as a kid? I think it was called The Amazon Trail 3? It was a damaged disc however, so it froze a lot. I think I only finished it once or twice; even knowing it would likely crash, I just liked playing it as far as I could. Have you ever tried on your mom’s wedding ring? No. Any shows on TV that you flat out refuse to start watching? 13 Reasons Why, to name perhaps the #1. What is your opinion on fruitcake? NO. Here’s a tough one. Would you rather marry your cousin or a dog? Oh fuck off, neither. Who did you last dream about? I can't remember what it was about, but I know Mark was in it lmao. Do you have trouble remembering important things? Sometimes. My memory is atrocious. Which animal can you imitate the best? Audibly? Probably a cat. Which is harder - walking in the snow or sand? Sand. I FUCKING hate walking through sand. It's one reason I don't like the beach. Do you like sour candy? oml YES. If anyone, who did you sit with at lunch today? N/A Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what and how? Not anything I can remember. Are you a clumsy person? You have no idea. How about disorganized? I'm oddly split down the middle. Last male you talked to in person? My dad. Have you ever had a sunburn? Oh boy, I've gotten past that. Try sun poisoning. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? PINK! Chocolate or strawberry milk? Oh boy, chocolate. I tried strawberry as a child and absolutely loathed it beyond words known to man, and I will not be giving it a second chance. I remember it pristinely. Disgusting. What volume is the ringer on your phone? It's on vibrate. Have you ever won a contest on the radio? No. Do you often write on yourself? I never do, 'less we're talking about tattoos lol. Is there writing on the shirt you are currently wearing? No. Frosted flakes or frosted mini wheats? I hate the latter, so I guess frosted flakes, though I don't really remember how they taste. Do mushrooms really add flavor to food? I hate them, so they obviously have enough flavor for me to notice them... What about onions? Yes. Are you a fan of Thai food? I've actually never had Thai food. How about Indian food? Same as above. Have you ever tried sushi? No. In your opinion, who would be the best president? I don't know. What was the last thing you spent more than $20 on? I have no ide- oh wait I paid for Teddy's surgery with... money I don't know from whence it came? Was it financial aid money? Idr. Do you wear actual designated ‘pajamas’ to bed? Pj pants and a tank top. When was the last time you were tempted to do something you’d later regret? Probably take a nap late in the day, ending in me being unable to sleep well at night. Thankfully, I decided against it. Have you ever had feelings for your best friend’s significant other? Yes. Well, not current best friend, but a former one. How many times did you ride in a car today? Zero. Are you comfortable in your own skin? Fuck no. What's absolutely splendid is even when/if I lose the weight I aim to, I'm going to have loose skin that literally might make me hate my body more until I without argument muster up the money to get it surgically removed. Are you in a good mood right now? I'm alright. When was the last time you had an ice cream cone? Been quite a while. Did you eat breakfast this morning? Yeah, had some cereal. Have you ever been in a cemetery at midnight? No. Do you live on your own? No. I don't even think I could tolerate living alone because of my depression and how loneliness can severely trigger it. I'm realistically probably not moving out until it'll be with an s/o. If not, who do you live with? I live with my mom, my sister's dog, and my cat and snake. How old are your siblings, if you have any? I have a lot, and I don't know the ages of all of them, only my two immediate sisters: 26 and 21. Have you ever had a crush on a sibling’s friend? No. Have you donated blood in the last 2 years? No. What was the last free t-shirt you received from? School. Is there anything you are looking forward to at the moment? February 4th, baby. Tattoo gets fixed up by an artist I like far more. Him not having an open booking until then should say enough. Are you an atheist? No. Are you Asian? No. Are you fluent in another language? No. Are you in the military? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Are you an artist? Not professional, but I enjoy making art. Are you a musician? No. Are you an athlete? Oh, hunny- Do you have a favorite flower? I really like orchids. Where was the last place you went that was more than an hour away? Great question... The trip to my therapist is about an hour, but not over. Why were you going there? For therapy. Who was the last person to tell you you looked nice? Probably Mom, idk. Have you ever been to a nude beach? Hell no, I wouldn't even if I was in great shape. How many websites do you have an account for? WHEW I have no idea, A LOT over all the years. Have you ever paid for any kind of online membership? Well, WoW is an online game, so a subscription, though because I obviously don't have my own money, I'm sadly rich enough in the game to use monthly tokens. Do you try clothes on before you buy them? Not always. I try to avoid it because I just hate doing it. What would you do if you knew a robber was in your house? Well I obviously don't know how I'd react on impulse, but I'd imagine myself locking my door and then climbing out the window. Then run like a motherfucker up the road some to a neighbor's, or hide in the nearby woods and call Mom. What’s your favorite type of pizza? Meat lovers sobs in wannabe-vegetarian. Have you ever been afraid of falling in love? Yes, very. Who’d you last see in a tux? I don't know. Do you record any TV shows and watch them later? No. Do you have difficulty pronouncing any words? Yeah, particularly "breakfast." I tend to put a "t" after the "k." Do you have your own computer? Yeah. Out of everyone you know, who was the most heart? My mom. Who’s the bravest person you know? Oh man, that's hard. I know a lot of brave people. Who would you want to have your back if things got tough? More than anyone in the world, Mom. Have your friends ever given you answers to homework, last minute? Yeah. Have you ever dated someone who was real sportsy? No. Have you ever done something terrible, but took forever to feel bad? By this point in time, I consider how I spoke to Jason before going to the ER multiple times absolutely terrible, and yes, it did take a very long time for me to realize just how cruel it was. Now it's fucking HARD to accept I ever said what I did. Have you ever read Shakespeare? Yes. Can anyone really change anyone that doesn’t wanna change? Nope. Do you think that anyone currently has a crush on you? I would assume Sara still does, but again, we know a relationship between us just isn't wise right now. What profession do you admire the most? The most? Man, that's hard to decide. Probably those that risk their lives for others, like firefighters, cops (yes, I am aware some abuse their power, but good cops deserve all the respect in the world), etc. Have you ever made a fake profile, for any reason? I don't believe so, no. What’s the hardest lesson you’ve ever had to learn? Bad things happen to good people and no, the universe does not care. Have you ever questioned your sexuality? Well obviously.

#survey #questions #quiz #random #bored

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