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always-andromeda · 2 years

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Eating Out | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3,422

Summary | Eddie can't afford to take you out to dinner. Naturally, he decides to treat you to an enlightening night at Chez Eddie.

Author’s Note | remember that time I said I'd write a thing where Eddie rails you after making you dinner??? so yeah, about that, I slightly adjusted the idea to make a pun with the title...if y'all want a sequel, I am very up for it (I'm begging, please someone give me an excuse to write a sequel because if y'all want it I will do it, I know we're gonna need some fun content after the new episodes come out tomorrow lol)

Warnings | smut (MDNI), oral (male receiving), mentions of drugs, nothing else I can think of!!

Eddie Munson hates spending money on dates. He's not a cheapskate. It's just that he can't exactly spend money he doesn't have. Sure, he does odd jobs around the trailer park to make some cash on the side and gets paid in singles to play at that hole in the wall bar in Hawkins. But it's nowhere near the kind of money that would allow him to take you somewhere like Enzo's. Enzo's wouldn't be his speed anyways. If he walked into a joint like that, they'd tell him to march right back out of there after their eyeballs were done popping out of their sockets.

He loves you. God, he loves you immensely. But he'd rather pitch himself into the quarry than treat you to fine dining. That doesn’t matter anyways, he has a better idea in mind.

Eddie tells you to come to his trailer after school on Friday night. His uncle is working. You are already well acquainted with this routine. You come with minimal makeup (Eddie will end up making it run anyways) and a short skirt with panties he can easily pull aside. But when you’re knocking on the trailer door and he opens it, it’s not the Eddie you’re used to seeing.

He’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s a little too small on him, as if it’s been a few years since he’d first gotten it. The most shocking part is the bowtie sitting right above his collarbone. It's not real, of course, but drawn on. You can see the marker streaks that reveal how he attempted to spruce up the ill-fitting garment. Your mouth hangs open at the fabric stretching across his chest, accentuating the full shape of his torso and exposing his midriff. Somehow, it’s more suggestive than if he didn't have a shirt on.

“Good evening, mademoiselle. Are you ready for an extravagant night at Chez Eddie?” He asks with a wink and a smile that shows he knows exactly what he's doing with the ensemble. His jeans hang dangerously low as he sways his hips ever so slightly. He knows exactly what’s running through your mind as you drink up his delectable figure.

You cough and bring your gaze back to his eyes, “Excuse me?” You stare at him, brow raised. You’re used to his antics by now, but this was a new one.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Just come inside, you dork.”

Then you’re wandering in the dim trailer where Eddie has set up a fold up table in the middle of the tiny living room. Two fold up chairs are pushed in on either side of the table.

Eddie leads you to the chair that faces away from the kitchen and pulls it out, saying, “Sit. Dinner will be out shortly.”

He disappears behind you. You hear him moving things around in the kitchen and it finally sets in what he’s trying to do. You smile and look down at your hands. There’s even a little candle on the table! Wait…that’s-- that’s a stick of butter that Eddie stuck a rolled up toilet paper wick in on a plate. You’re taken aback but still smitten at the effort.

A few seconds later, Eddie comes around with two bowls, setting one down in front of you and the other on his side of the table.

“From our esteemed Chef Campbell we have…chicken noodle soup.” You hold back a giggle when you see the familiar watery soup of your childhood, little pieces of chicken and vegetables floating along the surface. Eddie has lived in the trailer park with his uncle long enough that he knows how to get by when it comes to food. He has a taste for junk food, knows how to mix things together to make something that’s just edible enough. Your tastes must be a little more refined, he figures.

So he had pulled out some of the dried herbs and spices from the kitchen cabinet that never got used. Fuck, they’re so old that the expiration date has long since passed. Eddie just shrugged. That just means the flavor has faded a little, right? He’ll just have to use a little extra.

Thyme? He’s got all the time in the world for it. Rosemary? Sounds nice. Oregano? Fuck yeah. Chef Campbell can make a mean soup, but Eddie is a wizard with seasonings.

When the spoon is in your mouth, you're hit with the flecks of flavor that don't quite make sense together. But Eddie looks at you with an anticipation that forces you to smile through the strange bite.

"It's good!" you chirp.

Eddie grins and holds his hands up, "What can I say? You've got a man who knows his way around a kitchen, princess."

No, I absolutely do not.

But you laugh and take another spoonful of the soup. If this will make him happy, then you can suffer through the assault on your taste buds.

The next course is grilled cheese, though it's quite obvious that Eddie had burned the bread while cooking it. That's the one Eddie gets nervous about. With money being so tight, it had been a while since he or his uncle went grocery shopping. He only had so many pieces of bread left. He tried to keep an eye on them as they cooked. But it was just his luck that in the few minutes he took to rifle through the fridge, looking for a drink option, the kitchen became engulfed in the bitter charred stench. Hoping you would notice, he sprayed some artificial floral air freshener and scraped the burnt bits of bread off the side he'd overcooked.

You actually didn't mind the grilled cheese too much. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest sandwich to look at, but it tasted alright. The plastic cheese was overpowered by the toasted bread that tore at the roof of your mouth. Your throat overwhelmingly dry, you drank from the glass of liquid that Eddie poured out for you. Apple juice. Thank god. You could drink apple juice all day if it got the rancid aftertaste of the soup out of your mouth.

About an hour had passed since you'd first arrived. The butter candle had long since burned out, leaving you mostly in the dark. The sun was quickly disappearing from the view of the living room window and you wonder when the dinner will be over and the real fun part of the night will arrive. Being around Eddie was always fun. But nothing beats the feeling of his hands running over your thighs and up your shirt. And as the night gets later, you clench your thighs more and more, impatiently waiting for some sort of relief.

"Now, we have our dessert!" Eddie walks back into view. “This one is extra special.”

In both his hands is a plate. A sad, lumpy cake placed on top. You can tell that he must've ran into some sort of problem during the baking process.

Of course Eddie couldn't make a boring old box cake mix without it turning into a fiasco. The cake mix was old, but the frosting had been the only thing he’d splurged to get. What goes better with chocolate cake with chocolate frosting? He was no cake decorator and he was pretty sure he was supposed to let it cool before frosting it, but who cares? It was gonna taste damn delicious anyways.

“Wanna have the first slice?” He hands you a butter knife, excitement and obvious pride in his eyes. He looks almost like a little kid with his big brown eyes, waiting for you to praise him for the dinner’s grand finale.

But the top is sunken in. And you know exactly what that means. Still, you slice into the cake and grimace a little when the insides start to run from the piece you’ve removed.

"Um--" Eddie looks at you expectantly and you clear your throat, "Baby, it's a little...underdone..."

Eddie scrunches up his nose at the sight of the cut open cake, the inside oozing out, "You gotta be shitting me. I followed the directions exactly." If he hadn’t thrown the box away already, he’d be scanning the package, double checking that he’d added every ingredient. Maybe…maybe the weed had messed up the mixture somehow? He’d asked Reefer Rick if he had any good dessert recipes, but none of them involved a box cake mix…so he improvised.

He heated it up just like he was supposed to and added in just enough to get both of you high. Eddie had never baked a cake before, he had no clue what any of it was supposed to look like. Improvising didn’t seem like it was too good of an idea anymore.

"Fuck..." Eddie whispers under his breath. "At least the rest of the dinner was okay, right?"

You stare blankly for a second before replying, "Oh, yeah, totally!"

Finally, Eddie sees right through the mask. He isn’t even hurt that you lied to him. Hell, he couldn’t be mad at you even if he tried. He wasn’t even disappointed that he wasted some of his stash on a shitty recipe that didn’t work. He’s more upset that the night wasn’t going as he planned.

“Shit,” he sank down on the couch, leaning back and taking a deep breath. He wanted to do something nice for you.

You pushed your chair back and went to sit beside him. Tucking your legs underneath you and resting your head on his shoulder, you place your hand over his veiny one. You turn it, feeling the calloused pads of his fingers intertwine with yours.

“I just wanted to give you a good night.” He mumbles.

“Aw, baby,” you coo, “You always give me a good night.” And god, the heat pooling between your legs is begging for another one. But his downcast expression makes some of your arousal subside.

He brushes away your reassurance, “You know what I mean. You deserve a guy that can give you all the fancy shit.”

His despondency shatters your heart, “I don’t need fancy shit. I just need you.” You slot your arm behind his back and fully embrace his body.

Eddie simmers in your words. He’d never been able to imagine a world in which he would actually matter. A guy like him doesn’t have much use as a cog in the machine. But there was some comfort in knowing that if he stuck to you, there was always a chance he’d have a place in the world.

You interrupt his daydreaming, “Besides, I have to give my compliments to the chef.”

"The chef did a terrible job.” He scoffs.

You drift one of your hands down the middle of his too tight shirt, taking special care to linger at his exposed midriff right above the buttons of his jeans, "The chef did the best he could. And I’m planning on leaving a really big tip."

Goosebumps enticingly prickle his skin where your hand teases him. Eddie’s belly rises and falls with suspense. He’s not quite sure what you’re planning in that sweet little head as he says, "Hopefully not just a tip?"

“Mmmmm,” a laugh rumbles from your throat, “You’re getting too greedy now.”

“I think I can afford it, princess.” He snickers before nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you gingerly. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and you smile into the kiss like he’s just told you a secret.

No one else in Hawkins had a clue how tender your precious freak really was. So you’re glad you’re the only one who gets to see what he looks like from below as you situate yourself on the floor between his legs. Of course, Eddie handed you one of the throw pillows for you to rest your knees on.

It was suddenly becoming painfully obvious to him what you had in store.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Eddie asks, staring down at you through his dark lashes. You'd never used your mouth on him before. Though he’d dreamt of it, he'd never asked because he was too worried about making you feel disrespected. But he'd gone down on you plenty of times. If it felt that good when he was doing it to you, you could only imagine how the same thing would feel for him. So you nod quickly, already proceeding to unbuckle his jeans.

Eddie grabs your wrists before you can continue, "I need you to say it, princess." His gaze is pointed.

You shift on your knees a little, almost hesitant to say it out loud, "I-I wanna suck you off." You clear your throat so your voice doesn't sound as shaky, "Please, baby."

Eddie slowly releases his grip and rasps, "Good girl. Go ahead." He lifts his hips to help you get his bottoms off and tosses the jeans along with his boxers to the floor next to you. The sight of him has your mouth watering. It's nothing you haven't seen before; his thick cock is rigid, twitching, and just starting to swell red at the tip. But knowing it's going to be in your mouth is an entirely different matter. Your cunt aches and you have to stop yourself from reaching your fingers down to relieve the burn at your clit. Though you’ve been waiting all night to be touched, your mind is set on rewarding your boyfriend.

Eddie watches your expression carefully and tucks your hair behind your ear, "You see what your pretty little voice does to me?"

You look up at him again, seemingly surprised, "Really?" The power it gives you makes your heart swell in your chest.

"Yeah..." he trails off when he feels your breath tickle his bare thighs. "Wanna touch it?"

Without answering, you gently take him in your hand the way you'd seen him do it before. He sucks in a breath at your soft, delicate touch. Your fingers have a little trouble wrapping around his girth and he has to stifle a laugh at how innocent you are. You mimic the way you think he'd want it, grasp loose as you sloppily pump him.

Eddie can't help the little laugh that escapes him this time, "Here, princess, lemme show you how."

Just as you feel the embarrassment creep at your cheeks, Eddie takes your hand and spits on it. Then he tightens your hold so your fingers are almost touching. He puts his hand over yours, moving it up and down. As soon as he thinks you can follow his lukewarm pace, he lets go. You see the tension start to melt from his shoulders as he finally relaxes against the back of the couch with a deep moan. With the help of his spit, you go just a tiny bit faster, upping the ante just enough that he his eyelids flutter and his breathing gets faster

"I bet my mouth would feel a lot better," you mumble more to yourself. Before Eddie has a chance to object, your tongue is leaving a long, wet stripe up the side of his cock and ending with a flourish around the tip. You taste the musk of his skin and the slight saltiness of his leaking head.

"That feel good?" You ask sweetly. As if you hadn’t completely wrecked him right where he sat. He only wants more of that magnificent tongue.

"Fuck...yeah..." Eddie struggles a little bit to cum right then and there, "Jesus, princess, have you done this before?" You shake your head back and forth, wide eyed and pursing your lips.

Jesus fucking Christ, you're going to kill him.

Eddie lets out an almost haunted breath of air, "Okay, you're gonna want to hollow your cheeks out. You just let me know if you wanna stop. I don't want to hurt you."

Now it's your turn to laugh at him, "Eddie, you could never hurt me." You're looking a bit more confident in yourself when, again, you lick up the length of a vein on his cock. “I want you to use me.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t look this time, you take his tip into your mouth and sink your lips down all the way until you feel the end of him hitting your uvula.

You begin to panic when the instinct to gag kicks in. But you don't want to stop. You fight through the tears that form in the corner of your eyes and try to ignore the gag. Eddie feels your throat constrict around him and is caught between wanting to curse at the new wave of pleasure and wanting to pull you off of him immediately. His care for you wins that internal battle. But you push his hand away as it goes to relieve you from your struggle.

"Baby, you don't have to keep going." He manages to croak.

You shake your head slightly, trying to keep him in your mouth. You bring your hands to his thighs, caressing his skin in order to put him at ease. Your touch softens the tension in his muscles.

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with himself if he’s not worrying about you. He chooses to hold one of your hands and grip the other on the edge of the couch cushion. He allows himself to really feel your mouth. Your throat is impossibly smooth and slick with your spit. And warm. Possibly warmer than your cunt. He’s not too concerned about differentiating between the two sensations. His head is swimming in the pleasure you’re delivering as your cheeks hollow around him, just like he told you too.

As you drag your lips along his length, Eddie’s thighs jolt almost involuntarily. You feel him fuck deeper into your throat and you take it in stride, working through the way the movement chokes you.

“Fuck— you’re so good for me, princess. Soooo goooood…” Obscenities fall from Eddie’s lips like they’re nothing. The suction your lips have formed around his cock has him feeling like he’s in the clouds, simply floating his way off into the distance. The only thing keeping him from losing himself is your hand clutching his and your nails digging little half moons into his thigh. That’s when he opens his eye. He nearly feels guilty at how the sight of you, almost choking on him as he fucks himself into your mouth, has him groaning.

He wipes one of the tears away from your cheek and whispers, “So fucking beautiful…taking my cock…” a strangled sound vibrates deep from within your throat and it feels fantastic.

He almost can’t tell when he’s about to finish until the cord snaps almost entirely, getting ready to send him careening into an orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, baby, I’m gonna—” his voice breaks and you feel his warm load shooting down your throat. He grips both of your hands now, keeping himself grounded; his hips threatening to spasm even more violently. His back arches against the back of the couch. He’s riding out the last waves of his peak. You begin to slip him out of your mouth, the final spurts of him dripping out onto your tongue as he goes limp.

You swallow every drop down and feel satisfied knowing his sticky spend coats the inside of your stomach instead of your cunt this time.

Eddie still feels like he’s flying. He can close his eyes and fall asleep if he really wants to. Seeing him fucked out and draped back on the couch makes you bite your lip and smile. His lips are parted, though nothing but his ragged breath leaves them.

“I hope I look that pretty after you go down on me.” You giggle, plopping down where you had sat beside him before.

With a shaky hand, Eddie runs a hand through his hair to clear the sweat that makes his locks stick to his forehead. “Nah, you’re waaaaay prettier.” His voice sounds far off like he’s still recovering.

“Alright for my first time, huh?” Eddie stares at you for a few seconds, mentally running through options for where he can go from here.

He decides that you look too smug for your own good. You yelp as he sweeps you from your position and pins you on your back to the couch. You look at him, disoriented, with your brows pinched together.

Nestling himself between your legs now, Eddie chuckles darkly, "Oh, princess, that was just the first course."

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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period-dramallama · 27 days

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The King's Mind by Christopher Rae: review.

"How curious men are, how much is hidden, how much left unsaid."

A very late post for @fideidefenswhore sorry for the wait xx

TLDR: Solid, but I have some Notes. Rae is knowledgeable but he falls into some common pitfalls. Not as good as Rae's The Concubine. The pacing is weaker, and unlike The Concubine there is a Whiggish streak that gives the book a preachy taint.

Long post below.

Henry: I'm not easily persuaded

*a few moments later*

Henry: you know what? I've been deceived.

The book starts in media res and even I am a little lost and confused. The book hops between first and third person without warning which gets easier but at first takes some getting used to. Was it always necessary? We go from third person "a sky streaked with red and gold" to Henry saying the sky is streaked with red and gold.

The presence of Weston and Norris in this book is good. It was a good choice to emphasise the presence of Weston and Norris at the coronation. I think a lot of writers tend to forget they existed before 1536. They're Henry's Great and Loyal Friends yet they pop into existence ex nihilo solely so they can be beheaded. Obviously their presence also makes good foreshadowing. They're natural portents of doom.

Sometimes, as is often the way with first person POVs, Henry gets too self aware: “He knows how easily I can be mollified by a good cash offer”. But Rae's is probably the most interesting and nuanced of the Henries. Rae captures his ego: "Mark, who plays the lute so prettily, almost as well as myself." Cromwell “is now better informed than any man alive, with the exception of myself." After a whole book of his ego, Duchess Mary roasting Henry at the end was remarkably cathartic. Girl's got a point.

Henry has a serious case of doublethink. "My sweet Anne, so mild and sensible. I know that they are all constantly working upon her to have their way in this, but she is the true friend of my heart and her counsel will always be in my best interest. Of course, she is right."

On the very next page: "Anne’s eyes gleam with triumph, she believes she has influenced me to align myself with her purposes, and has won the field."

"Anne is naive sometimes and behaves as if matters of grotesque complexity can be reduced to simple solutions, simply because she wills it so."

Pot calling the kettle black, Your Majesty.

"More does not learn from the world, he merely seeks to impress himself upon it."

POT CALLING THE KETTLE BLACK, YOUR MAJESTY.

"I am glad of it, your majesty, for I am certain of what is true. This strikes me as an odd thing to say at first, but upon reflection I decide that I rather like it, and might profitably adopt it for my own use."

I don't have much to say about this moment, it's just funny and feels very Henrician.

“The king is like a man who sets fire to his own house, and then goes crying in the street for help.” Wolsey decides to ignore this while privately acknowledging the truth of it."

Wolsey:

“The honour of my betrothed must be preserved, and passion must bow before patience.” There's some nice moments of Tudor-style courtship, and Rae does a better job than most of giving Henry a distinct voice: “Diana, flushed with the exertion of emptying her quiver. By the mass, she is pretty when she is roused.” "Ah, my sweet, but I will never allow it. For that would kill me, and I cannot let you become a regicide." “return to the palace where there is precious little pleasaunce now.” PUN! Henry described himself as the king of disappointment, I liked that moment.

Many Henries are pretty gullible, but this Henry has a certain low cunning and I like the interpretation that while he's swayed by Anne he is quite manipulative himself: “I play the innocent most cruelly deceived, and I know that she finds me plausible.”

In terms of pacing, there is a tendency towards repetitiveness. PARTLY but not wholly because, let’s be real, the KGM has a repetitive nature. Like we get it already, Wolsey's fat, he's gotten fat, he's big, he's bulky, he's plus-size, he's chubby, he's out of breath WE KNOW. Anne is impatient and worrying about her age, WE KNOW. Henry is impatient and wants to marry Anne. Wolsey thinks it can’t be done. Wolsey thinks Henry is like a kid who has to be told he can't just have whatever he wants because he wants it, WE KNOW. Henry is fickle and people hope he will tire of Anne. WE KNOOOOOOOOOOW. The book also goes back in time to 1528 less smoothly than in the concubine. (Also, this book again calls Katherine 'Aragon' instead of Princess Dowager, sometimes the Spaniard, which works better.) You could probably cut out Latimer’s recantation to Warham as it repeats what we got from other scenes.

I must give this book some leeway and acknowledge that I'm just not as interested in the political dimensions of the KGM as I am the intellectual and theological dimension: partly because I find it boring and frustrating the way it constantly goes around in circles and there's this document and this document. But personal preferences aside, I still think the book could have been less repetitive.

“she contains within her a deep strand of idealism…But if Anne lacks anything, it is an understanding of the pragmatism that accompanies power.” Anne overall is better characterised in The Concubine. Here it is Anne's insistence that keeps Mary from her mother while Henry is willing to let them meet. Hmm. Disagree, but it's not too bad.

“Thomas More, Bishop Fisher, and of course the great red whale- Wolsey.”

I choose to interpret 'great red whale' as a reference to the 'white whale' in Moby Dick. Wolsey is Anne's equivalent of the white whale.

Ambiguity just how corrupt Wolsey is. "The fate of his grace the Duke of Buckingham, brought down by Wolsey and sent to the block, is not forgotten"- Buckingham's fall was Henry's doing. Wolsey actually warned Buckingham to be more careful.

"And Norfolk? His grace has all the diplomatic ability of a culverin." "Norfolk has nothing to do with things that are broken." Norfolk is slightly softer in here than he was in The Concubine, and not angry all the time.

Unlike The Concubine in this novel Cromwell seems to have a hint of being an evangelical, being motivated by religion.

"Today he will truly make or mar."

"As ever, in the shape he shows to the world, Cromwell is quiet, unassuming, and affable. Not blessed with a great deal of the outward glamour which tracks the interest of women, he relies instead on comporting himself in a manner which causes men to desire his presence."

Men desire his presence, you say? *Eyes emoji*

Also speak for yourself Cromwell is dummy thicc

Rae gives us a witty and remarkably sympathetic Gardiner. He's not usually given this much attention, or depth to his motives and thought process. We have him admiring Cranmer's intelligence.

More has more energy than usual which I like. He's usually depicted as soft-spoken for some reason when there's no indication in the primary sources that he had a quiet voice. We'll get to the problems with him later in the review.

"Fisher... the sympathy he drips with is not of a personal nature. For him Catherine is nothing more than a simple minded, weak, creature, as all women are, and he thinks that she has failed England and the one office which should have justified her feeble existence- to provide the king with the heirs he needed."

I'm not a fan of Fisher but DAMN that's an unusually unsympathetic portrayal. What a meanie. But it's refreshing to see Katherine of Aragon's supporters as less than noble or admiring for a change, at least in their heart of hearts.

Like The Concubine, there are some great turns of phrase.

"For some time he sits there, like some Saint of the early church undergoing a particularly unpleasant and imaginative martyrdom at the command of a Pagan emperor."

"And for the first time he begins to despair, because for the first time he sees clearly that he does not have the power to truly open their eyes. The terrible, inescapable conclusion begins to oppress him; There is actually nothing he can do to prevent disaster."

^^I like this moment because it encapsulates the feelings of many people in the Reformation, on both sides.

“I was nothing more than an empty vessel, like unto A goblet made in the most glorious and rich fashion, but empty nonetheless, a vain, dry thing. Here is the wine which was lacking, it comes now brimming, overflowing, and sweetest tasting anything upon the earth.”

^^ A particularly evocative and authentic conversion narrative.

This book also had some good analogies, like this one: "Master Christopher, think of the king as like a man who has inherited a battery of cannons."

Rae did a good job in this book with foreshadowing and instilling a sense of doom:

“There is a heaven for Anne Boleyn, in which she ascends uncontested to the throne as Queen of England, and a hell also, in which she is confined to being seen as nothing more than the king’s mistress, until he tires of her and moves onto the next one.”

^^It really drives home that Anne's fate is beyond her wildest nightmares. HILLARYYYYYYYYYYYY

"The shadows that have claimed the last of the sunlight are gone from the garden, and the Cardinal's face is now in shade, the whole of his vast bulk entirely consumed by the dusk."

^^A nice bit of pathetic fallacy and foreshadowing of Wolsey's downfall.

"Norfolk, so fond of sending people to the tower. Perhaps he will get the chance to see what is like one day himself?" “As she listens Anne’s eye is drawn upwards; she senses black shapes moving in the air, and she sees two ravens alighting upon the crenelated rampart high above. A sudden chill descends upon her, and she shivers.”

There are some good details in this book. Wolsey in the garden in the evening- Cavendish mentions that he takes evening walks. "He smells of cabbage, cabbage and wet horse dung!" A reference to Gardiner's skill at salads? “but the heat will recede, as it does when the sun progresses around the world and the hours of darkness begin.”

"But as I recall, when Hercules cleaned the stables he also slew the man who owned them. Because Augeas would not pay him for his work, Thomas. I think the king preferred to leave them as they were."

^^ a nice classical analogy. I wish Rae paid more attention to humanism and the classical learning of the characters. He tends to forget about the existence of humanism and the fact that the Reformation isn't binary, especially at this moment in time.

Not all the details are correct: The great seal of England sits inside a white linen bag when it was actually a white leather bag.

Rae continues to have good moments of levity:

“His single word expires, friendless and alone. He looks down at the floor as if he has lost its companions and thinks they might be down there somewhere.” “Ah yes, but there are only so many wives a man may take, before things start to become complicated. I think Henry has discovered this already, no?"

"By the mass I would have her now, hereupon the sweet earthen floor of the forest, with the sound of the rain hissing down upon the leaves around us."

Someone's watched The Tudors.

"His face, when he sees who has come uninvited and unannounced, is a picture, and his people begin at once to scurry to and fro like frightened chickens."

Someone's watched A Man For All Seasons.

"Thomas Howard. And Charles.... Charles..." he pretends to struggle to remember Suffolk's name. "Brandon? My Lords, you are welcome, though your message is not. Let me explain something to you."

Norfolk’s face contorts into an ecstasy of fury and hatred, and his hand reaches for his belt before he remembers he is unarmed. ‘You are ended, Wolsey. By the mass I will kill you myself, with my bare hands. "

Wolsey stares at him, unmoved . "my Lord is intemperate."

He (Suffolk) gropes for a suitably devastating parting shot, but his invention fails him, as it often does."

Hilarious, I love it, 5 stars, 10/10. Wolsey is delightfully bitchy and it's infinitely better than the meh equivalent scene in Wolf Hall.

Now for my Notes.

"The story is that he fell ill on the journey from the north, and died of it, conveniently. I do not believe it. Either he ended his own life, or someone helped him to do it".

While I love the intrigue, this novel has gone to SUCH lengths to stress that Wolsey is stressed, out of shape and in poor health. If there's one thing we know about Wolsey from this novel it is that he is F-A-T. He's also 57. He's no spring chicken. It makes total sense that he'd fall ill and die, especially after a long journey, drinking and eating from a variety of different sources, some of which may well be contaminated. But the characters speak as though Wolsey was a svelte Olympic gymnast who was spinning around on the crossbars until he suddenly died from eating some dodgy kale.

"Then he tosses what remains over his shoulder, and wipes his hands upon the silken cloth." I get that Francis I is the worst but people took etiquette seriously in this time period.

"Mary discovered a taste for them [kings] in Paris, and says that it was the recommendation of king Francis that brought her to the King's attention."

I'm pretty sure historians are questioning the old story that Mary slept with Francis?

Elizabeth Boleyn suggested Anne play hard to get (which I like) but later in the book Rae has Norfolk suggest it to TB years before. Yet Thomas B reacts to Elizabeth as if it was the first time he heard it. So what gives?

And like in the Concubine, Rae puts in things he's read uncritically from historians, and the result is something that makes no sense.

"His [Norfolk] affection for More is undiminished" yet the scene clearly shows that they have nothing in common, they see the world in starkly different ways, Norfolk sees More as vain and stubborn and More sees Norfolk as a crude toady. Norfolk even has a "menacing look" when he looks at More. So what is this nonsense about them having any affection? Well, like Jane Boleyn's nonsensical motives in the Concubine, Rae has read a historian, unquestioningly, and feels the urge to insert it into the story like a square peg in a round hole even though as a writer he can probably tell it doesn't fit.

There are some anachronisms- the phrase 'like a good Catholic'. 'Catholic' means united- Anglicans believe in "one holy catholic and apostolic Church". Protestant and Catholic are divisions that show up in the 1550s. "More is a fanatic"- fanatic is a very modern criticism. People at the time wouldn't object to religious obsession- the problem was if your doctrine was incorrect.

(Also Henry should be happier at the birth of Elizabeth.)

Now for the misconceptions.

While Wolsey did get his BA at 15, university students then were younger than they are now.

“Henry has been taught to stick to what the bishops tell him in matters of religion, and he derives his idea of faith his elders, who have made him think that orthodox observance matters more than a deep personal sense of a world imbued with the Holy Spirit. He is often reluctant to talk about such things, but she has formed the opinion that he is genuinely in motion, attracted by the scent of reform and willing to alter his thinking to accommodate change.”

Henry was given a (renaissance) humanist education. And the humanists like Erasmus were influenced by the late medieval devotio moderna that placed great emphasis on interior faith. Erasmus absolutely believed that inner faith was more important than outward show: that rituals like the Mass mattered, but that empty ritual was bad. But Rae falls into the false binary of Catholic: Rituals Good and Protestants: Rituals Bad.

Gardiner says: “Your majesty must know that the Pope holds the keys to heaven, there is no higher authority. If clarification or exegesis is required concerning the interpretation of scripture, then the final word must always rest with His Holiness.”

There IS a higher authority! Gardiner and More would tell you that the highest authority in the Church is a Church Council. Basically all the bishops across Christendom come together in a General Council and the Holy Spirit descends upon them invisibly, blessing the proceedings and giving authority to the decisions. If the Pope, say, tried to get rid of the Nicene Creed, Gardiner and More would say the Pope is wrong. Because the Creed comes from the Council of Nicaea, and a General Council >>>>the Pope. Papal infallibility doesn't show up until the nineteenth century.

"How can I help you, when I do not believe it is the right course for a Christian king to abandon his lawful wife? I make no secret of it, as you know. I am not one of those who will say anything in the hope of pleasing you."

More's stance was actually closer to: "I'm not qualified to speak on this issue so I stay well out of it". Fiction tends to portray him as more outspoken in Katherine's support (though he did like her as a person) than he actually was. Fisher was the one loudly objecting to the divorce. It was the Supremacy that More took issue with: he was willing to accept the new succession.

"Attend to your Scripture, and tell me where it says that our Redeemer left any vicar to succeed him upon this earth."

More and Fisher don't give a rebuttal to this in the book- because Rae can't think of one. But they actually could: a Catholic would say that Jesus said exactly that in Scripture. Jesus says to Saint Peter in the gospels "you are the rock on which I build my church." Then in the book of Acts, (the sequel) Peter is the leader of the early Christians in the years after Jesus zooms up to heaven. For Catholics, St Peter is the first pope. All the later popes follow him because of something called the Apostolic Succession.

(Also Catholics believe that 2 Maccabees supports Purgatory. Problem is, both 1 and 2 Maccabees are deuterocanonical and therefore less authoritative than the gospels.)

“Going to Wittenberg, I believe, where he intends to continue his work. A new testament in English, what do you think of that, Thomas?” He looks at me and I see the sorrow in his eyes. He thinks very little of it indeed.

“And how will things be then? When the plough boy reads Scripture in his own rude tongue? Without guidance, or education, without knowledge? Without the interpretation of the church placed upon it? He will say, ah, now I understand it, here is the meaning of this, or that. But when he meets his fellow they will not agree upon it, for this man will say, no- you have it wrong, it means this. They will not be of a like mind, and will fall into endless disputation strife. and the heretics will go about amongst them, stirring up whatever abominations they wish. There will be no order in what men think, no agreement. There will be no unity. That is what the church gives to men, unity, and it is our only hope of it.” “And if men throw off the authority of the church, whose authority will they look to throw off next?”

“If the church is corrupted, then it must be reformed, from within, by honest men of faith. Who has appointed master Tynedale to translate scripture into English? Who is there to supervise and approve the work? No one, because it is forbidden, and with good reason.”

This is a mixture of accurate and inaccurate. Yes, More did see the authority of church and state as connected. He argued that the church had every reason to support the king- because when anarchy breaks out, vulnerable priests and monks and their churches are attacked and looted. So it was in the best interests of priests to support, not subvert, secular authority and the rule of law. Yes, More wanted reform from within the church. He wanted political reform of the church not theological reform. He didn't want fewer priests, he wanted well-educated and well-behaving priests.

But More was a humanist. The ploughboy singing psalms as he worked? Exactly what Erasmus wanted. Even when the Reformation was underway, More still wanted an authorised English Bible, as he thought it would do some harm, but on balance, more good than harm.

So why did he have such beef with Tyndale? Because of how Tyndale translated the Bible. Tyndale's word choice in More's eyes undermined Catholic doctrine and made it look like Catholic doctrine didn't have Scriptural support- especially dangerous given that Tyndale was also saying Sola Scriptura. Tyndale pointed out that some of his word choices were the same as Erasmus' word choices. But More argued that Erasmus was translating honestly while Tyndale was being subversive.

And while More's Confutation Against Tyndale's Answer is a fierce criticism, More does quote Tyndale saying something he agreed with: More replies to this quote "this is well and holily spoken". So I wouldn't say More is blind with hatred for Tyndale, any more than Tyndale is blind with hatred for More. If More was blind with hatred, he wouldn't say anything positive about a single word of Tyndale.

“Like many wise men, Thomas More understands astrology and can read what is written in the heavens.” More knew astronomy. Astrology More thought was BS. But that doesn't fit the binary of Rational Protestants versus Superstitious Catholics, even though Rational Tolerant Elizabeth I believed in astrology while UberCatholic Pope Fan More was sceptical.

Rae’s analysis is Whiggish, and like most Whigs, it gets really preachy really quickly.

“His mind is the prototype of the totalitarian. One who has invested in a static system of thought, which cannot easily accommodate change or development. More thinks only in terms of certainty, and cannot bear the presence of doubt, which may undermine the fortress.”

Anachronism aside, historians actually debate whether More's opinions changed over time: if he became more religiously conservative as the Reformation progressed, having started as a humanist Catholic reformer. Personally, I'm on the side of consistency. More was never opposed to burnings and his last letter to Erasmus explicitly supports Erasmus and his work and calls Erasmus' critics jealous people. His debate with Tyndale is a Catholic Humanist versus a Protestant Humanist. And in classic humanist fashion they're arguing about language.

As for doubt: his patron saint was Doubting Thomas. So I wouldn't say doubt is the enemy to him, but that you must overcome your doubts by choosing to believe.

Also More did not see the Church as static. Catholics believed in progressive revelation: ie. you can add to the faith (things like purgatory) if the Church has a revelation that is authorised by a General Council. You just can't contradict the Bible. The Protestants want to go back to the OG Christianity: the faith of late antiquity, and cut out things like Purgatory that are seen as medieval accretions. They want the Church to go back to the old and keep it that way. They are not changing- they are undoing change, in their eyes.

“He [More] thinks himself to be a compassionate man, but is untroubled by the grotesque cruelty he has inflicted on those who have dared to oppose the orthodoxy which he deems essential to peace and salvation. They are given every opportunity to see their errors and recant, and if they will not then they must burn, so that the infection of heresy may be cauterised, and other vulnerable souls may be saved from it. This is a man of the highest intellectual capacity, who has earned his place among the most exalted thinkers of the new century.”

You could say this about literally anyone in the Tudor period. Cranmer is also considered to be compassionate, and his writing shaped the English language, but that didn't help Joan Bocher, did it?

"Now there is nowhere for men like More to turn, except back to persecution and mediaeval barbarity."

I haaaaaaaaaate this line. It’s so Whig history. As someone interested in ancient history and also the Tudor and early modern period in particular, I can confidently say that barbarity is absolutely not the preserve of the mediaeval period. On the contrary, the early modern period gives us more holy wars and witch hunts. Back to persecution? Persecution was ongoing. Protestants in heartlands like Zurich were drowning Anabaptists in the Rhine at the same time as Catholics were burning them!

(Also Protestants believed in the Trinity and infant baptism even though there's actually no explicit mention of those things in the Bible...)

#historical fiction #book reviews #just so you know: i'm not catholic #i've never been catholic #i'm just tired of one-sided portrayals of the Reformation

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cambius · 5 months

Text

—— @spellstole asked : ❛ i’m here to drink alone. ❜ from cyrus.

for over fifteen years, nepharia hasn't gone longer than a week without completely draining the life of at least one person, and now here she is— going on two weeks now. she is absolutely fiending, no pun intended. she knows that killing any of these people would only result in the rest of them turning against her, not trusting her even more than they already don’t. and it’s not as though she can fly off very far to hunt, without getting out of range of the artefact and losing herself to the absolute yet again. but gods, she needs something. a little taste of someone’s lust would be like pure bliss on the succubus’ devilish tongue. but spirits are high tonight— refugees were rescued, a grove saved, but none of that actually matters to nepharia. the only thing that matters is her mind is once again her own, and there are plenty of people here who might be easily swayed to offer her a bit of release, a bit of euphoria, so that she might have a restful night’s sleep.

only two people found themselves lonely this evening, the blade of frontiers, who stands by himself looking out at the water— but wyll would be the very last person to agree to spending his time with a devil for the evening. she doesn’t know much about cyrus, however, who is also drinking alone, but she knows that he, too, has a patron of the fiendish variety. still, cyrus hasn’t outwardly threatened her life, unlike wyll. but of course, cyrus dismisses her almost as soon as she approaches. but nepharia is nothing if not persistent, especially when she has a craving.

‘ and i’m just here to offer you my appreciation, ’ it isn’t sincere, but nepharia is adept at making it seem that way, as she takes a seat beside cyrus, a gentle smile on dark lips, ‘ for freeing my mind, and for letting me be here, regardless of what i am, ’ she actually is grateful, but she probably wouldn’t be admitting to it so freely if she wasn’t looking to soften him up, to get what she really wants.

#spellstole #answered.#<333 #yay #i’m so ready lol

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kindestegg · 1 year

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Heya! I'm curious to hear your opinion on the last episode in general, I don't think you've said much from what I've seen. Mainly on Collie and stuff, and especially what you think about them going away in the end there. Are you perhaps planning to write a post on that or anything? I just like your takes on things so I'm curious

... can I say something? It makes me stupidly emotional in a positive way that so many people have been showing interest in my opinions and thoughts about toh and collector. I knew my posts on them had gotten somewhat popular, but it genuinely surprises seeing how many people seem to think of me and want to hear what I have to say! You guys are too incredibly sweet and I just want to thank you!

This got... pretty long since I assumed you wanted an overall rundown of my thoughts on the episode not just focused on colly so uhhh... tagging it as long post.

As for my general thoughts on the episode... they are... uhhh A LOT of ohhhhh that's so cool ohhh that's so awesome... it was genuinely just a very fun high spirits episode for me, I was surprised seeing how easily colly was swayed and how willing he was to try and be friends... he is truly a very kind being! How strong raine was to push belos out and keep going, their ingenuity as well with all their movements!! They're so cool... the way they confirmed my suspicion that Collector really loves titans and knows a lot about their anatomy and culture!

I REALLY didn't think they were gonna do the Luz death fake out, that shocked me a lot since we already had a fake out with hunter, but now I'm starting to think they maybe did that to be a direct parallel to flapjack, as that one also featured the glowing lights rising. But then we met King's mom who is a total furbait for me so like!!! It's fine!!! Helloooo sexyyyyy!!!!!!! I love that they're genderfluid that got me so happy I love that he explains it by calling back to King's line about being queen and king that was already so damn transgender!!! I can't believe King is bigender just like her dad!!!

They have such good vibes anyway so it was really nice seeing them. Ngl I was kind of against seeing the titan again bc it was made such a point he was gone and we should mourn them, but she did kinda... die right after anyway so it's fine, and also again she is so cool it's kind of hard to not want him to have shown up. I love hiiiim. And then for that matter. Their conversation was so sweet and I love how it puts emphasis on two core themes of the series: the leftist sentiment of it being severely more important to fight to protect others genuinely from oppression and violence than to be respectable at those in power, and that Luz was never meant to be a chosen one, but she was a good kind person who deserved through her being there to be trusted. And is it not often just a matter of someone who is good choosing to do good when it counts?

I was a little sad that colly didn't get to do much fighting alongside the cast, but then again so didn't... most of the hexsquad! And his role was so important too, protecting everyone inside the Archives!! He is so very strong and i am so proud of him. Luzs titan form was so epic and her fight scene along with eda and King and eventually also raine was so cool!!!! And so was the scene with her just standing over belos... fuck yeah

I do not know if many more people noticed!! But the symbols around the titan as his spirit left luzs body were alchemical sun/gold symbols!! See!!! It's a titan symbol!! Also for that matter, the symbol on luzs chest on her titan design is the sun connected to the earth im pretty sure!! And i do love that King's dad said i love you with a bread pun but it is funny he almost... forgot to send any message lmao. It's okay though I'm sure she just wasn't prepared ♡

Ah and then the ending!! Was cute!! Personally I find the ending and epilogue pretty okay, I don't think it'll satisfy everyone of course, but I liked it well enough, everyone's endings felt nice. I HAVE actually spoken extensively (although more casually) about how I feel on Colly's fate, you can find that on my commander's answers tag as I responded to an anon on it, and I DO have a post about it planned but it will take... quite a long while to make, currently I am still laying down bullet points and I'm only to the second part of it and there are already four pages... uhm. Yeah. That and I'm starting to realize that it might make half the fandom want to crush me in a metal compactor. So thats fun. But well! I am committed to information above all!

Thank you again for the ask and for thinking of me!

#commander's answers #toh spoilers #long post

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tracies-tales · 4 years

Text

Splish Splash (We Weren’t Taking a Bath)

“Well you’re looking awfully damn cozy,” Arin said as he strut out onto the pavement surrounding the glistening pool.

Dan was sprawled out on a reclined lounge chair, his feet overhanging the edge. He had sunglasses on, and his hair looked like a curly pillow splayed out in a halo around his head. He cracked a grin and said, “I am indeed a happy man,” without looking up.

Arin couldn’t tell if his eyes were even open, even as he stepped in the way of Dan’s sun. “Dude, do you even need to tan?” he asked.

Dan giggled, “I actually think I might have accidentally started to flag down some planes to land here with my skin beaming a white glow into the sky. Besides, it’s toasty.” He gave a little wiggle, as if that emphasized his point.

Arin laughed at the mental image. He gave Dan’s hair a ruffle as he said, “I hope they have those inflatable slide emergency exit things on their aircrafts.”

“What? Why?” Dan asked with a light chuckle and a grin, peering up at Arin over the rim of his glasses.

“Because then we get free waterslides for the pool, duh,” Arin said, sitting on the chair next to him.

Dan snorted, “Oh, you’re right. I’m sure they’re detachable. That makes them an extra safe safety feature.”

“Uh yeah,” Arin scoffed, “then they can just be used as extra floatation devices!”

“You’re so right,” Dan said, bowing his head. “I defer to your superior knowledge of planes and their safety features.”

“Cool, because I’m definitely gonna need you to get in this pool with me.”

Dan blinked, raising a brow, “You’re not even wearing swim trunks.”

“That’s what you think,” Arin retorted before he started to wrestle his pants down, revealing he most certainly had flamingo-print swim trunks under his shorts.

Dan lost it again, laughing as he half-rolled onto his side. He asked, “Why didn’t you just wear the trunks out on their own?”

“That defeats the purpose of the reveal, man!” Arin said, taking off his shirt. Dan would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t linger on Arin’s chest; he’d trimmed down a bit, leaving enough pudge to be adorable while still looking toned.

“Okay, you got me there,” Dan admitted, tone turning somber, “but now we’re in a pickle.”

“I love talking about your pickles,” Arin said, wiggling his brow.

“I know you do,” Dan found himself giggling again. It was hard to stop when Arin was around. “But now I’m not wearing my swim shorts.”

“Do you like, really need them though?” Arin asked. “It’s just a saltwater pool; it’s not gonna stain anything.”

“I prefer to not feel my shirt sop-sticking to my skin, yes,” Dan said.

“Okay, so take the shirt off, what’s the problem?” Arin said, giving Dan an expectant look.

Dan waved a hand to shoo Arin off as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the chair, putting on a light English accent as he said, “I’ll just come back down in my bathers like a normal man.”

Arin smiled in triumph, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to Dan’s lips before he stood with him. Dan felt a tingle race up his spine, as he did every time the two shared such moments of intimacy, no matter how simple. He didn’t quite register that Arin had turned to walk alongside him, putting Dan between himself and the pool’s edge.

“So you don’t have anything in your pockets right?” Arin asked casually.

Dan slowed and pat at his pockets, saying, “Uh, I think I’ve got my phone-”

“No you don’t,” Arin chirped, shortly before wrapping his arms around Dan’s shoulders and shoving.

Dan yelped, “Arin nO-!” as he stumbled, barely able to shut his eyes on time as he collided with the water. He broke the surface with a grin in spite of himself, saying, “You son of a bi-” before Arin was swamping him under the wave of a cannonball.

As soon as Arin poked his head up, the pair were laughing, wiping water out of their eyes. Dan swiped a hand over his head to get some hair out of his face, catching Arin staring. He smirked and drifted closer, asking, “You like making me wet, huh?”

Arin swallowed as a blush crept into his cheeks, though the smile never left. “That was the entire plan, yes,” he said.

“Well, it worked,” Dan purred, before he grabbed Arin’s shoulders and dunked him under the water again. He laughed as a few bubbles of surprise spluttered to the surface, letting the other go to ensure no harm was actually done.

Arin surfaced and snorted water out of his nose, saying, “That was totally cheating,” as he flushed.

Dan said, “You started it!” as he gave Arin a flick of water with his hand.

“It’s not my fault you look amazing when you’re wet,” Arin retorted.

Dan giggled again, wrapping his arms around Arin’s shoulders, “So do you.” He gave Arin a kiss, saltier this time from the pool water. When he pulled back, he brushed some hair out of Arin’s face, then said, “But seriously, you’d better be fucking right about me not having my phone on hand.”

“It’s on the chair, I swiped it when I kissed you. Classic Hanson switcharoo,” Arin winked.

“Foiled again,” Dan grinned, relaxing once he knew his phone was safe. “Now, how about you help me out of this shirt?”

Arin’s blush returned twofold. “Aye aye, captain.”

This fic was inspired by my first photoset to make over 1k notes! matter of fact i think it’s my only post to make over 1k notes but hey i think that’s a valid reason to celebrate with a lil fluff

ps i am still basically always taking requests for shorts regardless of my absence of posting often anymore, so feel free to hit me up and i’ll hook you up

#egobang #short story #fics #remember when this blog was a writing blog #yeah neither do i #ficlet #writing #we all deserve a Treat #why yes i am still trash at naming my shorts #i am too easily swayed by puns #what do you mean it was brent's pool #was it even brent's pool???#not anymore

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’ are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

412 notes · View notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 36

Sorry about the delay. But now its here and its ready for consumption.

Also, Shout to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as ShamelesslyRomantic,

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

_____________________________________________________________

“Finished,” the artist akuma stated as he addressed his master.

Masquerade got up from her throne to look at the room. The classroom had been transformed into a rather spacious throne room. The artist had erased and redrawn walls to ensure the room was much larger. This new space also had several large windows adorned with elegant black and white curtains hanging from the top. Reflekta servants decked out in masquerade themed armor stood at attention on each step leading to her throne. Beautiful artwork of her decorated the walls, including an imposing portrait of her behind her throne that made it look as if she was looking down at everyone looking up at it. To her that came off as self-interested yet tasteful. The masked akuma even loved the addition of a red carpet that led up to her throne.

“This is quite satisfactory, Evillustrator. Just be sure to reinforce the walls of the room then head to the roof and locate Simularé. I want this place to be a fortress,” Masquerade ordered

“Understood,” the akuma nodded, his expression unreadable from the white face mask. He quickly headed to the door out of the room and Stone heart was guarding the door with his large frame and had to let the artist out.

“Gamer! Robostus! Status report!”

“We have made it so we could hack into every screen in Paris that is connected to the internet, as per your request,” the Gamer responded in monotone.

Masquerade smiled at that.

“Excellent. Do we have the cameras ready?”

The Reflekta copies near the robot akuma were being outfitted with recording gear.

“Affirmative, we will be ready to go live at your request.”

The masked akuma smiled at that news, she turned her attention to Princess Fragrance and the original Reflekta, who had just finished turning the last of the captured individuals into obedient copies of her.

“Has everyone in the school been rounded up and handled?”

“Dark Cupid and Reverser are doing a final sweep of any runaway stragglers. Stormy weather is going around flooding and freezing any empty hallways to flush out any that are hiding. There are Reflekta copies guarding the blocked off exits should anyone try and escape. But over 96% of the student body has been accounted for and 99% of all Faculty.” Princess Fragrance answered.

‘The missing ones are likely Marinette and Adrien. Those two never did make anything easy for me, did they? But it didn’t matter, their luck would run out soon enough. Once Ladybug and Chat noir were handled, then I could focus on making them pay,’ Masquerade grinned to herself.

She could picture how it would be, finding them and seeing their desperate faces as they realized that no hero would be able to save them. The first thing she would do was show them both her little empire. They thought she was bad when she had the school wrapped around her finger, they will be mortified when they see Paris. She would have all their friends and family captured, their best friends leading the cruel treatment of the rest. This would have them in tears and begging for mercy.

She did once consider letting Adrien be her boyfriend, with some perfume to sway him. He would have been a perfect boytoy to taunt Marinette with, but Masquerade realized how far above him she was now. She didn’t need him anymore, and truthfully, he was just as bad as Marinette, if not worse. Marinette had the audacity to dislike her and challenge her, but Adrien, he was so condescending, acting like she should be better than her actions. She could swear she saw pity in his eyes, and that was so much worse.

Though she wasn’t completely heartless, if they begged to be her personal servants and apologized for standing against her, then maybe she would let them have some mercy. Having Marinette clean up after her and make those admittedly delicious baked goods would be nice and having Adrien wait on her hand and foot like a personal butler would be quite fun. Maybe they would think if they did a good enough job their families would suffer less.

She did want to daydream about that idea more but she knew that she needed to focus on the present.

“Alright, Let’s start moving to stage 2. Gamer! I want a comprehensive list of every akuma victim outside of the school. Robostus! Make sure the cameras and broadcast are ready when I tell you. I want everything to go off without a hitch.”

“Affirmative!” Gamer and Robostus responded in equal robotic unison.

“Reflekta! Princess Fragrance! After all of the copies pick up the stragglers, I want you scanning the area for Ladybug and Chat noir. Bubbler and Lady Wifi… wait. I think I remember something.”

She paused to check her charm, she noticed the question mark charm and touched it, allowing her to focus and see what akuma it was.

“Cancel that order, remain on standby unless we get approached.”

“Yes… so this is what that voice meant by merging. How very interesting. I think I will let that new akuma keep its directive. Ladybug and Chat noir will have no chance of beating...”

An akuma merged with Lady Wifi, Bubbler and Oblivio. Combined to make something new. Something that she knew even the heroes would have trouble fighting.

“Deadzone.” Masquerade said with a devilish grin.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way down the hall. They easily dealt with a few Reflekta clones without much effort and continued moving.

They were expecting to see more akuma lurking about, but strangely, the halls they were walking down were all either empty or only covered by Reflekta duplicates.

“Masquerade likely has her stronger forces consolidating after bringing in as many people to her as they could. Those that didn’t hit the mark likely got turned into the copies we bumped into.” Ladybug answered.

“That does explain why they were singing, like when Princess Fragrance made servants,” the cat hero added.

“This might be our only time to catch a break before confronting her.”

“So, since we have time, do you mind if I ask if you're free to go on Patrol tonight?” the cat hero casually inquired.

Ladybug stopped.

“Tonight? That is quite sudden. Plus, we still don’t know how this will play out.” Ladybug gestured to the school.

“Well I am going to assume we stop the akuma and save the day like always.” Chat noir commented. “Call it a safe bet, but we usually win.”

“Always the positive outlook, Chaton. I’m glad you have so much faith in us despite our numbers disadvantage.”

“You said it yourself, most of the servants are pushovers or just puppets. The only real threat is Lila. And we have faced worse."

“True, but not anything this sinister,” Ladybug tacked on.

“Didn’t we fight Hawkmoth a couple of months back?” Chat noir asked with a twinge of confusion. Was Ladybug implying what he thought she was?

Ladybug held her tongue.

“You’re kidding right? You think Lila is eviler than Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir exclaimed in shock.

“No no no! Not eviler … just a bit cleverer than him,” Ladybug confessed.

Chat noir looked at his partner skeptically, but then considered her words.

“She is manipulative. Considering even without being akumatized she has done some rather twisted stuff. But thinking she is evil is a bit much. Especially when there is someone responsible for forcing emotionally vulnerable people to do his bidding,” Chat noir pointed out.

“Isn’t that what she is doing right now?”

“Yes, but she was akumatized. If we started blaming people for their actions as akuma we would have to throw innocent people in jail.”

“Right… but you read that article on the Ladyblog right? She could be more than just a victim of Hawkmoth, she could be an ally.”

The Cat hero thought about it more but was still not entirely convinced.

“I guess underestimating her would be dumb, but maybe she isn’t completely evil. I mean Chloé ended up showing a bit of humanity and did some good, maybe Lila is capable of it too.”

The crimson clad heroine smiled a bit.

“That’s what I like about you, Chat, you always focus on the good in others.”

The black clad hero gave a Cheshire grin.

“When it comes to the team, you’re the brains, and I’m the sidekick who brings the smiles and the heartfelt speeches.”

“You aren’t my sidekick, Chat Noir, we are partners. And you could be the brains too, if you would use yours outside of pun making.” Ladybug playfully bonked his noggin.

The cat chuckled at the playful teasing.

“Fair enough, but I can’t help it if I FELINE making a quip.”

Ladybug could feel herself groan at the lame joke.

“I take it back… you are the sidekick,” Ladybug deadpanned, her tone of mock annoyance causing the cat to chuckle.

“Alright I’ll…” He stopped speaking as he noticed something was amiss.

Chat Noir’s left ear twitched. He heard approaching footsteps.

“We better get moving, this abandoned hallway isn’t going to be so abandoned in a minute.”

“More Reflekta clones?”

Chat Noir extended the staff to the ground, his face showing a sudden sternness.

“No… Winter is coming.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Viperion peered through the door of the locker room.

“Clear.”

The snake and dragon heroes entered with their akuma prisoner.

“Pick a locker and let’s toss her in,” Ryuuko commented as she held the squirming akuma.

The two paused their movement when they heard a rustling in the lockers.

“Do you hear that?” Viperion questioned.

“How could I not?” Ryuuko replied.

Just as the two stared at the rustling lockers. The two shaking lockers doors flew off their hinges.

And stepped out an akuma that neither hero recognized.

“I don’t remember seeing that akuma before,” Ryuuko stated.

“Neither do I, but it seems vaguely familiar,” Viperion responded.

As the Akuma was gathering its bearings, the heroes tried to gauge its powers. It had broad shoulders that had spherical, dark purple balls around them, which were connected to tight black sleeves with 3 white circular stripes at the end that ended at his wrists. Its left hand had a fingerless black glove which showed its skin akin to a purple silhouette. The other hand was what appeared to be a black laser canon with a phone attached to it. On its back was a large red, purple and black pipe which seemed to act as a holster to a blue bubble wand. Its face was obscured by a large white theater mask much like all the other akuma. But there was the impression that it had distinct features. Its chest had a rounded purple bubble on the top half of its body akin to round armor and it had a logo that appeared to be a WiFi signal within an eye in a cage. The lower half appeared more akin to a skintight jumpsuit that was black with white stripes at the feet.

The akuma turned its attention to the two heroes.

“So umm… what are you doing in the locker room?”

“Merge complete, Deadzone is active. Mission objective, Capture Ladybug and Chat Noir,” The akuma answered in a robotic tone less as a response to the question and more as a statement, their voice sounded like the mix of two people.

“Well, Deadzone, we can’t let you do that!” Ryuuko exclaimed as she glared at the akuma.

The akuma pointed its blaster at her.

“Your opinion on that really doesn’t have an impact on us.”

Deadzone’s left hand touched the phone on their blaster, and a purple bubble with a pause insignia shot out. Ryuuko and Viperion both jumped back as the bubble had direct contact with their akuma prisoner, causing her to be motionless as the bubble turned green and floated to the roof of the room.

“Okay, so don’t touch the bubbles,” Viperion noted.

“Positive side, we don’t need to worry about that one akuma,” Ryuuko commented.

Viperion and Ryuuko knew this akuma would be trouble if it got to Ladybug and Chat noir. They were going to need to find a way to stop it.

______________________________________________________________________

Fu had been observing the spoiled Mayor’s daughter after her confrontation with the Reflekta replicas. Using it as a means to help him find Ladybug and Chat Noir. He was aware that this girl had a knack for getting into trouble and making akuma target her, so it would not be too far off to assume she would be useful in locating his chosen. He would have called her, but communication was down, so he would need to adapt. But now he had a rather interesting quandary.

“Should I lend her the miraculous or not?” Fu spoke quietly as he pondered.

It was a tougher question he had initially thought. If he was asked if she was worthy of being a miraculous user, the answer would undoubtedly be negative. She was clearly a spoiled brat who saw herself above others. But after the events when the bee miraculous temporarily fell into her hands, he had started observing her. He did this with all of the chosen ones that Marinette had picked. Not because he didn’t trust his student, but more out of curiosity of why Marinette picked these individuals.

With the one she picked for the fox miraculous, Fu could see that the girl valued justice, but was cunning and saw the importance of distinguishing truth from illusion, an ideal pick for the fox miraculous. As for the Turtle miraculous wielder, Wayzz spoke highly of Nino, which really made him curious about the young lad. That boy showed a willingness to protect those close to him even if it meant getting hurt, and the calm to be ready to wait and roll with things. The miraculous of protection required someone that can keep a cool head and be ready to defend at the drop of a hat.

The other temporary heroes matched pretty well with the traits of the Kwami and were all good people deep down. Fu had no doubts that Marinette had the instincts of a guardian. The only one that brought doubt was Chloé. After the incident where she found the miraculous and got akumatized, Chloé was trusted with the bee miraculous 3 times. And her record had been mixed but overall she was decent when she fell in line and worked with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette mentioned that she didn’t want to trust Chloé with the miraculous after the last time. But has admitted to Fu that if needed she was a decent Bee heroine.

But if he was wrong and she decided to use this chance to stay being a miraculous wielder, he would have to deal with her as a rogue. Though, considering the circumstances, that would honestly not be the worst situation, as her identity was public and Ladybug and Chat Noir would deal with her like before.

“Wayzz, what do you think?”

His kwami companion popped out of his shirt pocket.

“This is quite a dilemma, Master. The situation is dire, but putting the miraculous in the wrong hands would also make things worse. Perhaps Pollen would be able to give better insight.”

“Very true, my friend.” Fu patted the kwami.

Fu cautiously went into the cleaning cart and pulled out the Bee Miraculous. The bee kwami popped out.

“Good morning, Master,” Pollen greeted the guardian with respect.

“Good afternoon, Pollen. We have a situation and I would like to know your opinion.”

“Very well, I am happy to serve,” The bee kwami replied.

“What do you think of Chloé Bourgeois? The one that used your miraculous recently.”

The kwami put her little hand to her face as she compiled her thoughts.

“She is complicated, Master. She didn’t talk to me much but I kind of got to feel a lot about who she was as a person. She is brash, she is confident, yet she is insecure. She is blunt, stubborn, and set in her ways. But I can tell that she is at a crossroads in her life. There is some small part of her that wants to be good and do good for others outside of herself, but her upbringing has made such a mindset seem like weakness, and she is scared of letting herself be vulnerable. Ladybug has been a good influence on her, but she is still immature in several aspects. She has the potential to be a good queen. If she could break through that self-imposed selfish mentality, she could be something extraordinary,” Pollen explained, finally.

“I see, well that is quite informative. Thank you,” Fu responded, nodding thoughtfully.

He put the Bee Miraculous back in a tiny box, causing her to go dormant.

“So, she is at a crossroad.” Fu repeated as he stroked his chin

He turned his attention back to Chloé, who had continued walking towards another dead end. When he caught the eye of approaching Reflekta clones. And with that, Fu figured out a way to know.

“I think I just found a way to know the correct answer.”

______________________________________________________________________

“I swear this place is a maze.” Mayura grumbled to herself as she walked the halls.

She noticed her fan shake, notifying her of someone calling. It was Hawkmoth

“Yes?”

“Mayura what are you doing?! You were supposed to find the target and get out!” Hawkmoth exclaimed angrily. “And why did you transform? You knowutilizing the Peacock Miraculous is dangerous.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was somewhat touched by the concern in his voice. Unfortunately, she did not have time to dwell on that so she was going to ignore it, as she had a task at hand

“Some unforeseen circumstances have caused some rather unfortunate delays. I am going to locate the sentimonster and gather information regarding the target. Afterwards, I will assist in getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.” Mayura responded.

As she was speaking, an akuma with black wings flew into view along with an akuma riding a paper airplane.

“Seems the akuma servants have located me.”

She notices the akuma began preparing to attack her. They were practically mindless puppets that saw anyone who wasn’t their master as an enemy. This was quite an oversight, but it fit with the motif of the akuma villain. She felt the emotions of that girl, she knew exactly the type of insecurities Lila held. Thankfully for her, it meant they could easily be exploited.

“Get out of there this instant it is too dangerous. You are in no shape to…”

The akumas aimed at the unidentified villainess and fired off paper airplanes and arrows.

“We will discuss this later.” Mayura hung up before turning her attention to the two servants of Masquerade.

Mayura dashed through the hall, expertly avoiding projectiles and blocking with her fan those she couldn’t dodge. She jumped onto Reverser’s glider, grabbed the akuma and threw him at the flying Dark Cupid, leaving the two dazed and tangled together.

“I’m weakened, not helpless,” Mayura commented as she dusted herself off and hopped off the floating paper airplane.

She noticed that the two akuma that attacked her were slow in getting up.

‘Seems the akuma created by Masquerade aren’t just mindless, they are also rather slow in reacting. Ladybug and Chat Noir can exploit that. I suppose with the number of servants she made, this was to be expected. I should locate Simularé and get some details on our akuma’s little plan. I should step in and seize control if she gets too distracted like the last one. Gabriel has always been far too cautious when it comes to his plans, it’s time we were more active.’ Mayura mentally concluded.

She closed her eyes and focused on locating the sentimonster.

“She is on the roof. Odd placement for her most powerful ally, but I suppose there must be some sort of logical reason for what she is planning,” Mayura rationalized.

The peacock themed villainess noticed that the akuma that attacked her were starting to move again, and she decided to pick up her pace a bit.

______________________________________________________________________________

“This is super ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed with anger. “Not a single exit in this place! Why is every exit coated in icky slime?”

She checked her phone.

“And still no signal.”

She ended up chucking her phone out of frustration.

“I wish Ladybug would just get here and beat the akuma, or better yet, come here and give me the bee miraculous so I can help kick butt,” she grumbled as she went to go see where she threw her phone. She'd remembered she actually liked the case she just bought for it and losing that would be a waste.

“H-help me please!” The wails of a person in danger caught Chloé’s attention.

“That sounds like a non-me issue,” the blonde told herself. As she continued walking to her phone.

“If only there was someone here to save me!” the voice called out again.

Chloé stopped moving for a moment.

“Well I am not a hero without the Bee, so I guess he better hope Ladybug and Chat Noir are nearby, or maybe those other two costumed nobodies that I saw earlier,” she said, clearly trying to convince herself not to do anything.

“Please! Ladybug! Chat Noir…. “

"The heroes will handle it." Chloé reasoned with herself as she picked up her phone. Now getting ready to go somewhere else and likely away from the screaming.

“ And a…Queen Bee.”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Did someone call out for… Queen Bee?!

Chloé started dashing down the halls to the sound of the voice.

“Did someone call for a hero!” Chloé called out, looking confident.

She arrived to see an old man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt being cornered by 3 Reflekta copies. The akuma copies turn to Chloé.

“Surrender,” they sing-songed as they began to approach.

Chloé ran right at them, and proceeded to push them into each other, and let the impractical heels make it hard for them to get back up.

She rushed to the old man.

“Don’t worry, old man with good taste in heroes and nothing else. I, Queen Bee, am here to save you,” Chloé blustered.

“Thank you.” Fu said with a forced smile. She clearly only came when he mentioned her name. But she did show up. In hindsight, maybe his test was not as conclusive as he thought. But then again, he actually planned those out more.

Chloé looked around.

“Alright old man, normally I would have just left you to get saved by Ladybug, but you have good taste in heroes, so I am going to help you out. We need to move before those creepy akumas get back up. So follow me, I know a place you can hide out.” Her tone tried to come off as abrasive, but it did show an inkling of care.

Chloé began moving away from the cluster of Reflektas. The old man shrugged and followed behind. He supposed that this would be another good test for her. Maybe he will get a more definitive answer by keeping an eye on her. And if worse comes to worse, he had a feeling she would make a good distraction should he need to escape a band of akuma.

______________________________________________________________________

“Did you just make a...”

Ladybug was able to pick up on the sound of harsh wind heading their way and decided her scolding of lame references could wait for later. She grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him into the nearby science lab.

She quickly closed the door just as a cold front blasted right past them. The window on the door was covered in ice.

“Stormy Weather?”

“Stormy Weather.”

The two both look at each other with a bit of worry. The storm akuma was one of their more powerful foes, and with complete control of the weather in such a tight space, things were going to get tough.

“Any ideas?”

Ladybug weighed her options. Would now be the time to use her lucky charm? or should she save it for when they are in front of Masquerade? It was starting to get harder to make that call.

“We can’t have her roaming the halls, we will need to incapacitate her. So I say have your ice power up ready, and be ready to swap power ups at the drop of a hat. Stormy Weather may be tough, but we still have tricks up our sleeve.”

Chat Noir nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both popped their Ice blue power ups and shift into their Ice forms. The two watched as the other’s suit gained ice skates, ice crystal and snowflake accents, becoming Ladyice and Icecat.

(AN: Yes, according to the Wiki, that’s what they are calling them. Personally, I would have called them Ladyfrost and Cold noir/ Cool Cat but that’s just me. This isn’t relevant to the story, I just wanted you all to know that.)

“You know, Ladybug, you really give off the ice skater vibe. Would you say you have experience ice skating outside of this form?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug felt her mind flash to her date with Adrien and her cheeks turned red.

“I- I may have some experience. And how about you, Kitty?” she deflected.

“Well, now that you mention it, I…”

They heard a loud bang on the door, cracking the ice that covered the window to reveal the white theater mask that Stormy Weather had covering her face.

“I’m gonna give it to her, she really knows how to break the Ice,” Chat Noir joked.

“Chaton, cool it with all of the ice puns,” she stated.

“Wait, was that a pun? My Lady I... OH SHI…”

A large ice stalactite burst through the door interrupting their banter and almost skewering them.

Chat Noir was about to say something when Ladybug cut in.

“Chat Noir, you are my partner and I respect you greatly. But so help me, if you say we should put this conversation on ‘Freeze’, I will not save you if you get impaled.” Ladybug stated.

Chat Noir paused.

“You know me so well,” he said with a smile.

The two watched as Stormy Weather entered the room through the stalactite hole.

______________________________________________________________________

“Hey Viperion?”

“Yea Ryuuko?”

“We both agree that we need to stop that crazy akuma right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why are you carrying me away from it!?” Ryuuko exclaimed.

Viperion had picked up the dragon heroine fireman style in order to pull her away from the pursuing akuma.

“Do you want the reasons in alphabetical order?” the snake hero sassed.

“We can take it,” Ryuuko asserted. “We can’t retreat! There is no honor in it!”

“Well considering neither of our weapons can touch them, the concept of honor has flown out the window. Not to mention, I seriously doubt that we can take them on without a plan, and don’t say ‘try to hit them harder’ is a plan. It isn’t.”

Viperion had a smug look as he noticed Ryuuko look away.

“You’re right, but I'm mad about it,” the dragon heroine huffed.

“I can live with that.”

Viperion took a sharp left and noticed a dozen Reflekta duplicates.

“Juleka?”

“Come with us,” the clones sang.

“I’m going to assume they aren’t her,” Ryuuko said as she got off Viperion’s shoulders.

She punched his arm.

“Ow.”

“Your shoulder was bumpy.”

Ryuuko drew her weapon and dashed past the group of Reflekta clones. After a second, she holstered her weapon and all of the clones dropped to the floor groaning.

“Wow.” Viperion was impressed. He had to admit that it was super cool.

“Don’t worry, I used the flat end of the sword. They will be fine, and hopefully they will slow down the akuma.”

The two continued running, but glanced back as Deadzone arrived. He looked at the clones getting up and blasted each one into a green bubble in which they remained motionless and floated to the ceiling of the hall.

“It can’t distinguish between friend or foe,” Viperion commented.

“What?”

Viperion turned to his comrade.

“I think I just got an idea.”

__________________________________________________________________________

“This way,” the bossy blond teen motioned.

Fu pushed his janitor cart as they moved in the hallway.

“Do you really need to move that hideous thing with us?” Chloé questioned with clear aggravation.

“It's very important,” Fu responded.

“Ugh, whatever. Just move faster, then.”

Fu nodded and picked up the pace.

The mayor’s daughter led them down the hall and they had managed to avoid attracting attention.

“Okay, we are here.”

Fu looked at the door and realized that it was the nurse’s office.

“Hopefully the nurse didn’t get herself captured while I was gone.”

Chloé went to open the door and noticed it was locked.

“What the…”

“Let me try.” Fu interjected.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

He pulls out a jingling set of keys. Chloé shrugged as she turned around to keep watch.

Fu let his kwami companion out to open the door. Wayzz quickly undid the lock and opened the door before sliding back out of view.

“All done,” Fu said.

Chloé turned around as Fu opened the door.

The two quickly ran inside and locked the door behind them.

“Nurse Arugula!” Chloé called out. “I have a guest for you!”

“Arugala?”

“It was something with an A.” Chloé commented.

The two waited a few seconds, but there was no response.

They moved deeper into the office.

“Are you here?” Chloé questioned.

They flicked on the light switch to see the nurse in the cot.

“Oh, that’s great, I leave to go get help and be a hero and she goes off napping!” Chloé fumed.

Fu moved to the nurse and noticed she had a bruise on her neck, indicating that she was clearly forced into this state. He jabbed a pressure point and the nurse jolted awake.

“HUAGH!”

She nearly fell out of the cot.

“Glad you can join us from your nap,” Chloé hissed.

“Chloé? Did you call for help?” The nurse inquired as she gathered her bearings.

“No, the school is a total dead zone, and I couldn’t find a way out because they are all blocked by slime. Side note, I found this old guy.”

The nurse turned to the old man.

“Hello. I’m Angela.” She politely introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you. I am… Fung,” Fu lied. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Nice to meet you Fung, despite the circumstances,” she tried to make light of the situation.

“Every meeting can have a positive circumstance if one is looking for it.”

The calm in the air died when Angela realized that someone was missing.

“Oh no! The women you left in my care! She knocked me out and stormed out of here.” Angela exclaimed.

“Welp, she is probably captured,” Chloé shrugged.

“We have to find her, she has some sort of strange illness. Leaving her out there might be dangerous, akuma or not.”

Angela prepared to move to the door but was stopped by Chloé.

“Oh no you don’t! I brought this old man here for safety. You stay here with him.”

“But my patient!”

The woman was clearly shaking, but she was determined, she wanted to help her patient even if it meant going into danger. But much to Fu’s surprise, Chloé stepped up.

“I will bring your patient back. Mostly because being stuck in here seems much worse than dealing with a bunch of dumb akuma.”

Angela hugged Chloé.

“Thank you.”

Chloé tried to look annoyed, but a ghost of a smile appeared on the mayor’s daughter’s face. She accepted the hug for a moment.

Fu took notice. He had made his decision.

“Alright, enough touching! You deal with sick people all day. I don’t want germs,” Chloé stated as she tried to give off her usual air.

“That is very brave of you, young one.” Fu spoke.

“Pff, this is nothing. It’s what heroes do.”

As Chloé began making her way out of the nurse’s office, Fu quietly slipped the tiny miracle box into her bag.

‘I hope this was worth the risk.’

_____________________________________________________________

(END OF CHAPTER)

Well things are really heating up.

Will Ladyice and Icenoir be able to deal with stormy weather? Will Deadzone be the dead end for Ryuuko and Viperion? What is Masquerade's villainous plan? Will I update faster than every 40 or so days?

Let me know your thoughts and if you did enjoy the story.

REBLOG it and comment. Likes are nice but they don't really help content creators like they should.

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kieraelieson · 3 years

Text

Logic Still Needs Comfort

A fic for @im-a-creepy-cookie as a part of @sanderssidesgiftxchange! I did your touch-starved Logan prompt!

Warnings: detailed sensory issues, joking mention of death

Logan disliked being touched.

It had been known for years. They all knew it. Surprise hugs or claps on the shoulder startled him unpleasantly and even made him upset sometimes. Touching his hand to get his attention made him jump and frown. He himself had compared the experience to having a bug or an animal suddenly landing on him.

And so Roman and Patton learned not to touch him aside from the occasional celebratory high-five. Which was fine. Everyone was fine, and happy.

And then came Virgil. And accepting anxiety as a valuable part of Thomas. Which changed things.

••^*^••

“Hey, um… L?”

Logan turned to see Virgil fidgeting but staring at him with an intent look. “Yes?”

“So, um, well you know I told you how Remus is practically a leech, and there wasn’t any getting away from it, but I’m not saying Patton isn’t great! But just Roman is… Roman, and just, but Patton really is great but I kinda don’t want to get turned into a teddy bear, and you’re all calm, and I’m, well, I’m sort of missing the calm and….” Virgil looked down and huffed out an annoyed sigh. “Oh, this is gonna come out awkward any way I say it. Can I sit next to you? I just wanna play on my phone and maybe stick my legs over your lap or something.”

Logan cocked his head to the side just slightly. “You wish to stick your legs over my lap while sitting next to me? That seems like it would involve terrible posture.”

Virgil gave a little breath of a laugh. “Any way I sit involves bad posture.”

“Actually, occasionally when you sit you replicate what is sometimes called the ‘primal squat’ which is reported to be excellent for your posture.”

Virgil gave him a lopsided grin. “Ok, you got me there. Maybe. But anyway, would you mind? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I’ll head back to my room.”

Logan considered it carefully. It was true that he did not enjoy touch. But this seemed as if it would be relatively calm, and would not require much, if any, reciprocation on his part. “I do not ‘mind’,” he said, utilizing Virgil’s turn of phrase.

He was currently standing, reading a book he had taken from the bookshelf he was standing in front of, and had not yet decided whether to stay with this book or choose another. He quickly pulled out the other two he’d been considering, and tucked all three books under his arm before seating himself on a couch.

It was a pleasant place, the memory library. Calm and quiet, with almost a heaviness to the air that Logan found enjoyable in a way. It was also rather dim, however, at least in this area, where the memories were older, and Logan found it necessary to summon a side table with a lamp on it so that he would have suitable light for reading.

He’d momentarily forgotten about Virgil until the couch cushion dipped beside him. Virgil pulled off his shoes and glanced at Logan.

“You really don’t mind? I mean, I know it’s kind of invasive to your space. You don’t have to say yes.”

Logan nodded. “I am not opposed.”

Virgil very tentatively put one foot up on Logan’s lap, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Logan felt again that sudden unpleasant ‘something touching me’ feeling, but it passed surprisingly quickly, and by the time Virgil had fully settled himself, laying on his back with his knees up over Logan’s lap and his feet on the other side of Logan, the feeling was gone entirely.

Logan propped his book against Virgil’s knees and began to read.

He was a little surprised, when Patton called for dinner, to find that they had been there for close to two hours, and that the unpleasant feeling had never returned. Instead he was feeling warm, and comfortable, more than he had in quite a while. He attributed this to the couch. And perhaps the warmth was a slight raising of Thomas’s core temperature, due to stress at having Anxiety so close to the old memories. Perhaps they ought to have sat down somewhere a little further away.

Regardless, he was about to comment, as they got up, at how pleasant the experience had been. Except that as soon as they both stood up, he found he was suddenly and extremely unpleasantly cold. This alarmed him, and he left without discussing anything with Virgil, concerned that the warmth and sudden cold was a sign of sickness, perhaps only his own but perhaps a symptom that Thomas was sick as well.

He went straight to the miniature control center he’d set up in one corner of his room, pulling up all of Thomas’s vital signs as well as a recording of where he’d gone that day. But everything was normal.

The cold seemed to be fading somewhat, though it was leaving a concerning ache behind. And it seemed to be concentrated on his thighs and forearms, of all places.

Logan looked through his list of sicknesses, sensible and nonsensical, that he had somehow contracted over his life, and found nothing similar. Still, this must be a sickness of some kind. Most likely a nonsensical one, as he hadn’t noted similar symptoms before. Perhaps he would discover some absurd idiom Thomas had latched onto that was causing him to experience physical repercussions. Something similar to ‘brain freeze’ perhaps.

A soft knock at his door caught Logan’s attention.

“Yes?”

“Logan?” Patton’s voice asked. “Are you alright? Virgil told me what happened. He didn’t realize how much you don’t like being touched, and I think he’d like to apologize, but he’s really worried that you’re upset with him.”

“What—“ Logan had left rather abruptly, and without expressing to Virgil that he’d enjoyed their encounter. It was very possible, with Virgil’s anxiety, that he had misinterpreted Logan’s abrupt departure. “Ah. I see.” He waved a hand to open his door. “I am not in the least upset at Virgil. There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, good.” Patton said, concern all over his face. “But you should probably tell Virgil that, and there’s some dinner saved for you yet.”

Logan nodded, the ache in his forearms and thighs rather distracting. “Thank you, Patton.” And then it hit him. If it really were an odd turn of phrase Thomas had attached to, Patton would certainly know it. “Have you happened to notice any interesting phrases recently?”

Patton frowned in confusion, indicating that Logan had changed the subject too rapidly for Patton to keep up. But then he grinned a little. “So today, I saw a baguette in a cage at the zoo!”

And then it was Logan’s turn to be confused for a moment, before he realized. “Ah, I didn’t mean a joke-“

“It was bread in captivity!” Patton smiled brightly, nearly laughing at his own joke.

“Yes, thank you, Patton,” Logan said, allowing the tiniest bit of an amused smile to show.

Even that slight encouragement made Patton beam. “Well, I told Roman that I would watch Disney with him tonight, so I’ll have to go, but don’t forget to talk with Virgil before you eat, and don’t forget to eat either!”

“I won’t forget,” Logan promised, a softer smile showing.

But as soon as Patton left he clapped a hand over his mouth. Why was he so… easily swayed? He prided himself on keeping a straight face, and yet now he’d smiled at Patton’s pun! What was wrong with him?

And now, with Patton leaving the room, it was as if the heat had been sapped. He was again very uncomfortable, aching and cold and he didn’t understand why. Was he perhaps experiencing some strange and extreme form of separation anxiety? It had set in both times as another side had left, though in different ways. But he didn’t feel anxious.

It was all incredibly strange.

But it seemed that Virgil was under a rather upsetting misconception. It could wait. He would speak with Virgil first and then look into this strange sickness further.

Logan crossed the hallway to knock on Virgil’s door.

The door opened almost immediately, Virgil looking as though he’d been waiting on someone to knock, and that Logan had not been the one he’d been expecting, based on the wide eyes and generally startled appearance.

“L, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known, I wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable—“

“Virgil, I assure you, I was perfectly comfortable. I would have expressed discomfort if I needed to.”

Virgil blinked, and the deep black of his eyeshadow faded somewhat. “You aren’t mad?”

“Not at all. I enjoyed the calm company you provided. I left abruptly upon discovering symptoms that indicate possible sickness.”

“Oh.” Virgil was silent a moment, gaze flickering away from Logan as he processed. “Wait, sick? Who’s sick?”

“I may be, though it is odd, and perhaps not a sickness at all.”

“Well, what is it? What’s going on? Are you ok? Is it contagious?”

“I do not know. I am experiencing a strange cold, and aching.”

Virgil’s eyebrows creased in concern. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Logan nodded seriously. “That is why I left, trying to discover what it could be.”

Virgil nodded in an encouraging, ‘go on’ kind of way.

“I haven’t found anything yet, but Patton informed me of the misunderstanding between us and reminded me to eat dinner. I intend to do more research afterwards.”

Virgil nodded. “I could rubber duck for you, if you want. Maybe I could help a bit.”

Logan stared, trying to remember what the phrase was meant to convey before revealing his confusion. He was certain he had it on a flash card somewhere, but he’d left them in his room.

Virgil rather obviously quashed an amused smile. “You tell me what happened, and then we see if we can figure it out together. Repeating the details can help you connect them better sometimes.”

“Ah. Yes. That does seem useful. Thank you.”

Virgil gave him a lopsided grin, pulling up his hood and closing his door behind himself. “So when did you first notice the symptoms?”

Logan explained his symptoms and research to Virgil as they went downstairs and sat down at the table.

“And I still have very little of an idea of why,” Logan admitted. “I believe it possible that it’s another of those idioms that we sometimes experience physically.”

Virgil nodded very slowly. “I actually… might have an idea. I have an experiment I’d like to try, but if I explain it fully it’ll bias you and it probably won’t work.”

“Go ahead,” Logan said, opening the Tupperware container of spaghetti. “What is your experiment?”

Virgil reached one hand across the table. “While you’re eating, give me one hand.”

Logan considered, reaching out to hold Virgil’s hand. “Does this have something to do with checking pulse? You would be able to do that more easily with my wrist than my hand.”

Virgil shook his head. “Just eat, and when you’re done we’ll see how it goes.”

Logan frowned slightly. “Do you believe this has something to do with how recently I’ve eaten? Or that it could be influenced by the focus needed to do something with only one hand?”

Virgil chuckled. “I’ll explain once you’ve eaten.”

Logan was far too curious to wait patiently, and ate quickly, pushing away a not-quite empty container. “What is it?”

“Are you feeling warm again?”

Logan took a moment to assess, and realized that yes. He was feeling warmer. The ache as well was completely gone. “I am. Is it the food?”

Virgil offered a rather sad smile. “Alright, now let go of my hand and tell me what you feel then.”

Logan let go, and almost immediately the cold rushed back. He frowned. “But why? Why do I suddenly seem to have my physical temperature tied to the proximity of you and the other sides?”

His hand ached, and he held Virgil’s again, relieved, but utterly confused when the unpleasant feelings faded.

“I’ve had something like this,” Virgil said. “But not quite the same as yours, based on what Patton was saying. I think you’re probably touch starved.”

Logan considered this silently.

“But I don’t like being touched.”

Virgil gave his hand a slight squeeze. “You don’t seem to mind this.”

Logan nodded, very slowly. “You’re right. I… I don’t mind this at all.”

“I think we should talk to the others,” Virgil suggested.

Logan nodded slowly. “I suppose so.”

••^*^••

“You’re what?!” Patton practically wailed, throwing himself at Logan in a hug.

Immediately Logan felt like he wanted to crawl out his skin. This was miserable. In no way what he wanted. It didn’t feel right at all. It was like a whole hive of insects were buzzing just below his skin.

He pushed Patton off of him, more roughly than he would have intended. “Get off!”

Patton stopped immediately, staring in confusion and hurt.

Logan couldn’t handle it. He was freezing, and his skin was crawling, and his mind seemed filled with static. It was terrible. He just couldn’t.

He barely understood the words directed at him from the other sides as he sank out.

He locked his door and shuddered, hands repeatedly making and releasing fists. He shuddered again, trying to dislodge the crawling feeling. It didn’t leave.

He’d been right, he didn’t like touch. Not at all.

He got into the shower, running the water hot and scrubbing the disgusting feeling away. It helped warm him up as well, which felt way better. He bundled into his bed, pulling the weighted blanket that had been a gift from Virgil over himself.

A while later, finally calm and comfortable, he conjured a note to stick on the door.

I am not upset, but please leave me alone.

••^*^••

Logan spent the next several days figuratively buried in research. He investigated touch starvation as well as touch aversion, and a host of other possible clues to his situation.

He also gradually became more uncomfortable, holed up in his room.

He came to the conclusion that he did, in fact, have a kind of touch starvation, awakened to a roaring hunger by that pleasant afternoon sitting with Virgil.

But he also certainly had an aversion to being touched in certain ways. And he suspected, looking into it more, that surprise was a large factor, as well as the amount of him that was being touched, and perhaps the way in which he was touched.

He was basing this largely on his own reactions to Virgil’s method of touching, as compared to Patton’s or Roman’s, since he highly doubted that it was something inherent in them that he was averse to.

Finally his findings were all put together into one detailed, though as of yet hypothetical, presentation. Armed with this, and a determination not to touch anyone until he’d presented his findings, he opened the door to his room.

As he’d suspected, there was something attached to his door that made a noise as it was opened, and he was soon nearly mobbed with the other sides. They didn’t touch, or come too near, or say anything, but all came very quickly to stare at him, worry in every gaze.

He raised his folder. “I have a presentation. Please gather in the living room.”

It didn’t take long. Not at all.

Logan opened the folder and set it on top of the tv, so that the images could be seen.

“I believe Virgil was correct in suggesting that I have a degree of touch starvation.” He flipped through a few pages, supporting this statement with both facts and personal experiences.

He paused. This was the part that was likely to hurt feelings. Even he knew it, and he wasn’t usually adept at understanding feelings. But it was necessary.

“However, in satisfying this hunger, I will need to be ‘picky’. I have boundaries outlined in this section, and I need to keep them rigidly. This will mean that I will not be open to surprise touch, and likely not to hugs either. I would like to have support from each of you, support in accordance with what I’m capable of handling.”

“Absolutely, Logan,” Patton said. “I’d really like to be able to help you in the right way.”

Both Roman and Virgil nodded very solemnly and enthusiastically.

Logan smiled, more moved by this expression of support than he’d expected to be. “Thank you, Patton. And thank you two as well. I will be very much in need of your assistance.”

He cleared his throat, more in an attempt to gather himself together than any really obstruction. “I’ve laid out a number of methods of touch that I believe would be helpful to me, and arranged them by likelihood of success, and also divided by which I believe each of you would be more inclined to enjoy yourselves.”

••^*^••

Logan was seated on his bed, organizing and updating his flashcards, when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” Roman said, peeking in rather shyly. “Um, can we try one of those things now? I brought something to do.”

Logan considered, a slight curl of worry in his stomach. “Yes. I believe now would be a good time.”

Roman fully entered the room. “So I can sit behind you, and do my thing, and I won’t bother you while you do yours.”

Logan smiled slightly. “That sounds pleasant.”

Roman grinned, a bit of pride evident in his expression. He sat behind Logan on the bed, facing away from him, and leaned back slightly, so that they were each leaning against the other.

For about thirty seconds, Logan was uncomfortable, but gradually, warmth spread out through his body, and his mind was able to return its focus to his flashcards, and soon he found he was quite comfortable.

“Hey, specs, what do you call a little tiny shovel? Like the ones for kids. Or I guess not for kids, or not all the time.”

“That would be called a trowel, though perhaps a more recognizable, less correct term would be a spade.”

“Thanks!”

Logan could hear the smile in Roman’s voice, and smiled himself. This was genuinely pleasant.

Even after he had finished with his flashcards, Logan didn’t move. He just soaked in the wonderful warmth, answering whatever questions Roman had, and occasionally listening as Roman gushed about a particular sentence or paragraph he was especially proud of writing.

••^*^••

Logan walked beside Patton, enjoying the false nature of the imagination. He was familiar with much of the flora and fauna, even a decent portion of those entirely invented within Thomas’s mind. And Patton seemed to enjoy Logan’s rambling as much as Logan enjoyed the rambling.

A hand bumped gently against his, and Logan hesitated a moment, before linking his pinky finger with Patton’s.

Patton’s smile grew even brighter. “And you were saying the seeds of that tree are special? What kind of special are they?”

Logan smiled proudly, launching into an explanation. Patton swung their hands back and forth gently as they walked, and Logan felt something within him fill up. He felt pleasantly full, as if there was a cup inside him that had been long empty, and was now trickling over the rim, full enough to even spill.

••^*^••

Logan and Virgil laid out on the roof, looking up at the night sky. They were side by side, with Logan’s left leg tangled up with Virgil’s right.

It was calm. And warm. And peaceful.

In a reverse of the usual pattern, Virgil was the one telling the myth, this time of people who had lifted up the sky.

Logan felt himself drifting off, more comfortable than he could remember being in a very long time. He was figuratively floating on soft, warm clouds. Drifting into a summer night. He was safe, and content. Comfortable.

••^*^••

“Patton,” Logan said slowly.

“Hmm?”

“I would like to attempt a hug.”

Patton turned all his attention to Logan. “You sure?”

Logan nodded. “Yes. Just— slowly. And gently.”

Patton nodded solemnly, reaching his arms out.

Logan slowly leaned into the embrace, and Patton gently wrapped his arms around him.

And it wasn’t bad.

Logan hugged Patton, squeezing lightly before letting go. “Thank you.”

Patton’s eyes were all shimmery, and his smile wobbled. “You’re welcome, Logan!”

••^*^••

The door burst open dramatically and Roman ran in, flopping over the arm of the couch and letting out an even more dramatic groan. Then he peeked his eyes open, and moved to just as dramatically flop onto Logan’s lap.

“I fought dragons.” He announced, his voice a whisper as if he were inches away from death.

Logan, for once, was hit with a burst of mischievousness, and patted Roman’s face in an intentionally awkward way. “I will be sure to mention it at your funeral. I’m sure you’ve written an extensive ballad, and I’ll force Virgil to sing it in your honor.”

Roman had a sudden grin before resuming his ‘dying of exhaustion and probably wounds’ act. “Make sure you do,” he croaked out. “And have Patton put flowers in my casket.”

“Of course.”

Roman went limp, closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out.

“Patton!” Logan called. “We’re going to have to put on a funeral.”

“A what?!”

••^*^••

Logan leaned against Virgil’s side, his empty cup of coffee set beside him, as the second movie began to wrap up.

“If they start another movie, you can lay in my lap and go to sleep,” Virgil offered quietly.

Logan, who despite the coffee was beginning to nod, hummed an affirmative.

He was woken up a good deal later by a lack of sound, and found that they’d just finished what might have been the third, but could’ve been the fourth or fifth movie of the night. He was laying on a pillow in Virgil’s lap, and his legs were up in Roman’s lap. And judging by Patton’s smile, pictures had been taken.

“We’re finishing up now,” Patton whispered. “And setting up to sleep out here. Do you want to stay in here or go to your own room?”

Logan yawned. “It will be far better for my posture to go to my own room… but if you were to turn on a sound machine… I would not be opposed to remaining here.”

Soon, something between white noise and rain lulled him back to sleep.

••^*^••

They all found a marked improvement, both in Logan’s mood and even in Thomas’s clarity of mind, as they continued experimenting with touch.

It was discovered that Roman, while not starved, was also touch-hungry, and was practically a giant dog in that he would accept any and all kinds of petting.

And as Logan regulated, he found he was even more ready to give touch than to receive it. Roman flopping onto him after ‘terrible and glorious battles’ became a regular occurrence, often ending with Roman falling asleep, Logan gently scritching at his scalp.

Walks with Patton became something they both greatly enjoyed and looked forward to. Sometimes they could only link pinkies, sometimes holding hands, sometimes even walking arm in arm.

And Virgil was always ready to do something of his own near Logan, a limb draped over him or pressed up against him.

Logan found himself repeatedly thinking back to that one afternoon in the memory library, incredibly grateful that Virgil had asked, and that he had said yes. He could see so much in his life that was better now.

And he was really, truly happy.

#sanders sides #my own work #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #platonic analogical #gift fic

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arkus-rhapsode · 3 years

Text

MHA Chapter 315 Discussion-An Almost Great Conclusion, But Misses It’s Mark

Hi guys, Rhapsode here and it’s time for another MHA discussion. I haven’t really done one in a while, but after reading 315, I had a lot of thoughts I was working through. And before I start I want to say, I do not think this chapter is overtly bad. I think there’s a lot of good ideas to it, and overall nothing objectively bad. However, as the climax to this Deku vs Lady Nagant fight, I felt it didn’t quite hit its mark (pun not intended).

If you want my brief opinion of this current arc of “solo Deku”, I actually enjoy it quite a bit. I’m happy Horikoshi refocused on Deku after such a long war arc. As well as Deku FINALLY be proactive in his hero duties. No longer on the rails of the school setting. And I have especially enjoyed his current fight with Lady Nagant.

In terms of sheer action, it’s got a tried and true set up of a sniper battle, but then adds to it by taking the fight into the air. The action is hectic in all the right ways with the unpredictable bullets cutting up Deku as he dodges them with Danger Sense. As well as the introduction to a new quirk of OFA.

But where this fight really shines is Nagant and her origin. Lady Nagant was hero assigned to maintain the illusion of order by getting rid of potential threats and heroes up to no good for the Hero Safety Commission. Until being told to kill in the name of improving society and any of her activities being covered up finally weighed on her and she killed the then president of the Commission and placed in Tartarus. While she’s only hunting down Deku because she’s assigned to, she says that even if AFO wants to rule the world, it’d be more transparent than a return to the status quo.

It’s honestly a great reveal as it finally puts out in the open the actual corruption in the system that’s hinted at, but was never really delved into. But now it also finally has Deku confront the problems of the status quo that he’s grown up in. This isn’t an ideological battle like with Stain on the definition of hero or reaching people who have fallen through the cracks of society like Gentle. This is real flaws with the system that people have had faith in from the mouth of someone who has done their dirty work.

It’s something I think a lot of people have wanted to see. And I’m glad Horikoshi finally did dive into it the structural problems of hero society.

So how does this all get resolved in 315? How does all this end? Well after Lady Nagant targets Overhaul and shoots at him to make the situation harder for Deku to focus, Deku without hesitation goes into trying to save Overhaul (despite knowing Overhaul is a villain), Deku homages All Might and then shatters Nagant’s arm, and finally Deku makes an observation that Nagant wasn’t really going to hit Overhaul and that if she seeing the darkness of society, she knows where to expose it as she still has the heart of a hero. Nagant should join Deku.

But then AFO activates an explosive power right as Nagant is coming around. The blast fries her as Hawks arrives and we’re left on the cliffhanger of “is she going to survive.”

Now after reading this, my feelings have been… mixed. Let me get out this out of the way there is nothing with this chapter I disagree with: I have no problem with Deku making an emotional appeal to Nagant, I have no problem with AFO acting like a heel, and I have no problem with Nagant not being fully evil and never intending to kill. I know that last one has upset some people, but given Nagant’s backstory of killing innocent people for others because they told her so is the reason she fell off her path in the first place. So it makes sense she never intended on killing anyone.

And I know some people have nitpicked how it’s the female villain who isn’t fully evil, but that honestly doesn’t matter to me. As narratively, this arc started with the attack by Muscular and Deku couldn’t reach him. So it’d make sense to potentially end this mini arc on an example of Deku reaching and reforming a villain. It also helps that Nagant has actual layers to her motivation that could actually allow her to be swayed away.

Now my real issue with this chapter is honestly a problem that I was afraid Hori would do after he introduced just how messed up the Commissions back dealings, it’s that Deku doesn’t really take any concrete stance on what should be done about this status quo. Instead, Deku focuses more on telling Nagant she is a real hero and he ultimately wins her over after showing how much a real hero he is.

While Nagant uses the term “fake”, “sham”, and “phony” when discussing heroes and hero society, it doesn’t address the bigger issue. Namely that she feels this way because of the corrupt and unheroic things the Commission has done to maintain faith in it. Deku offers no actual answer to the very real and very hard question she poses.

And his only real response is this:

(I’m being generous as there can be something lost in translation here and it’s a bit on the flowery side )

While Deku did acknowledge this world isn’t Black and white and he’s saying she can expose corruption if she works with them, he dodges actually offering a solution to her concerns about the status quo. Instead more time is devoted to the same kind of “I will save anyone” appeal he always does.

And while one could argue Nagant’s only on the side of AFO because his reign would keep the Commission from having the power they did, even if she doesn’t fully believe in him. She still poses why being ruled by AFO has its appeal to her and Deku doesn’t actually counter that. No pointing out the obvious anarchy that could result from this or how AFO uses even the people he claims to love like Shigaraki. Deku doesn’t rebuff anything and once again passes the tough decisions onto other people. With Hawks appearance here at the end and his baggage about killing Twice, I can very easily see cleaning up the commission as becoming his motivation going forward. Once again resolving Deku of actually needing to make hard calls or form stances.

This is compounded by the fact AFO just blows Nagant up. It really doesn’t matter if you rebuff anything that AFO has said or offered to convince Nagant to join you, there’s no way she’d work with him after he attempts to kill her. Which feels like it undercuts this conversation about morally gray society.

Look we all know that AFO is evil. The audience knows and this is absolutely what he would do, but if you’re trying to give all of the illusion that we’re finally confronting issues with society and bringing this up and why we would get people loyal to AFO or people like the liberators or people like stain. And trying to sway someone away, then just having him nuke them for having a change of opinion. then it undercuts any actual ambiguity of a clash built on addressing moral grayness. Which I feel is always been one of the strengths of MHA.

I was not expecting Deku to have a thesis on how he plans to dismantle the shady parts of society. Or go full Eren Yeager and become his own revolutionary. But when confronted by a villain who isn’t like Shigaraki or Toga or Twice, who fell through the cracks in the system and needed a safety net like Deku wants to be, Nagant was a part of the system. The corruption of society runs deep in her motivation and Deku doesn’t really address it beyond acknowledging its flaws. And yet his actions of “true heroism” are enough to sway her. It just feels incomplete. There is a brief line that you can interpret of him wanting to clean up the system, but it feels way too short for a moment like this. Deku being confronted by all the darkness of a system he admires should cause him to make some kind of stance.

And no, I’m not going to speculate on if Lady Nagant is actually dead and this will finally forced Deku to take a firmer stance or what have you. I do want to keep these discussions at least relative to when they are released and in this moment the thing that wins over Nagant is the same “save everyone”/“inspiration by example” Deku usually does. Which doesn’t feel as satisfying a conclusion as it could be.

Not helped by a good chunk of this chapter being taken up by explaining all the bits and bobs of OFA’s power system and finally explaining what exactly his third quirk does. This feels like padding when I wanted the space could’ve been used for character dialogue or a continuation of their conversation about the status quo.

I do want to repeat though that there is nothing outwardly bad with this chapter. There is no real objective failure in the writing. It’s just a case of, “ this could be stronger.” And that’s the frustrating part.

Tl;dr there’s a lot of things that are good about this chapter from a technical and narrative level. The natural progression of characters and the switching of allegiance makes sense. however it’s just all shy of really living up to a lot of the stuff it sets up about society and going back to the status quo. As Deku doesn’t seem to have any real concrete stance beyond his usual.

And because a lot of the things around it are very good it makes it a lot more noticeable when it doesn’t quite stick the landing. Not helped by what feels like nothing more than padding with the explanation of quirk ability instead of character introspection about this very legit and difficult revelation. There is nothing outwardly bad, it’s one of those cases of something that could be an 8-9/10 ends up more as a 5-6/10.

That’s my opinion at least. But I am extremely interested in seeing where Hori goes with this. Thanks for reading and I’ll see you next time.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #MHA 315 #bnha 315 #my hero academia discussion #my hero academia 315 #boku no hero academia 315 #izuku midoriya #deku midoriya #lady nagant #hawks #all for one #keigo takami #hero safety commission #overhaul #kai chisaki #my hero academia chapter 315 #boku no hero academia chapter 315

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karasimpno · 3 years

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{Day 25} Being Alive | Kuroo x Reader

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

Genre: Christmas fluff FOR my life my love my light my hero @bluntkingkuroo!! Grinchy Kuroo being transformed by the magic of Christmas (and you)

WC: ~2k

Warnings: none just sap:)

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

Someone to crowd you with love, someone to force you to care. Someone to make you come through who'll always be there, as frightened as you of being alive — Being Alive; Company (music & lyrics by Stephen Sondheim)

Kuroo Tetsurou hadn’t had a real Christmas in years.

In fact, it had become one of his least favorite holidays - until he met you. Invariably, he would always get called into the office late Christmas Eve to sort out some last-minute fiasco, making him work through the following morning to be ready for work’s opening the next day. His Christmases were only ever quiet, disappointing, and frankly, dismal. It was never like the Christmases when he was a kid. He didn’t think he’d ever have those child-like Christmases again.

But that was before you.

You’d gotten together at a New Year’s party two years ago. Ever the rumored player, Kuroo had never actually had much luck with dating, and had all but given it up. But your sly looks and cheeky texts lured him in and he stuck his neck out one last time to invite you to a New Year’s party, which ended up being one of the best worst decisions of his life. The two of you spent that year on and off the phone, seeing each other whenever possible, and falling in love. You became his biggest support and his most savage tormenter. By the time Christmas rolled around, you convinced him to let you spend it with him, reluctant though he was. Kuroo had so many reasons for not getting his hopes up for Christmases anymore, but not one good reason for blowing it off—and you were determined to fix that.

Waking up with you in his arms, making breakfast together and opening presents that you’d thoughtfully picked out for him, seeing the joy on your face when you opened his, he began to feel the spark of what he once felt for Christmas.

“You know me too well,” he murmured in a kiss against your hair, thanking you for the vinyl he had only mentioned once in passing but that you knew he really wanted.

“Yes I do,” you smirked playfully at him, pulling him up short as you pecked him on the cheek. The two of you dissolved into giggles as you spent the rest of the day lounging around and relentlessly teasing each other.

This year, Kuroo simply couldn’t get enough of you. For once he was proud he could admit that he was falling more and more in love with someone every day, and you knew if you played your cards right, you might actually get him to have a proper Christmas.

Sure enough, you lured him right into a casual conversation about his vacation days, and he flippantly said that he had plenty left in the year.

“So why don’t you use them to come home with me for Christmas?” you asked pointedly.

Kuroo gulped. “You mean, like with your family?” he asked.

You had him cornered. Now that he’d admitted he had the vacation days, he really had no argument against you. You laid the final trap, slinking over to the armchair where he was relaxing and slipping into his lap, giving his hair a little tousle and giving him your best “innocent” look.

“Yeah! You’ve already met them on FaceTime and just think how much more fun Christmas would be if you could away for a bit without worrying about work!” you said cheerfully. “Pleaaaase?” you mock-pouted with raised eyebrows.

And that was how Kuroo Tetsurou finds himself in your childhood kitchen.

He’s standing over a mixing bowl, a smudge of flour on his nose as you lay parchment paper on a cooking sheet. You grin, reaching across the distance that separated you, swiping a thumb at his nose to dust off the flour as he dumps the dough out of the bowl. The gesture pulls your right hip to his left and you attempt to hide your smile. You couldn’t believe he was finally here, warm and cozy in your kitchen, making cookies with you while you played Christmas music in the background. Maybe you’d turn this capitalist grinch into a holiday sap after all.

Unable to keep your hands off him, you squeeze his side as you slip past him to pull the rolling pin out of the drawer on the opposite side of him, handing it to him lazily. Kneading out the dough, he shoots you a sidelong smirk.

“What, you want me to roll it out too?” he asks. “Am I supposed to cook Christmas dinner too?”

“You make the dough—which includes rolling it out—and I make them look pretty when we decorate! Where’s the problem?” you tease with a barely-concealed smile.

“Problem is, my hands are full,” he sighs playfully as though explaining Tiny Tim’s tragic fate. You hum thoughtfully. Your lighthearted teasing was one of your favorite parts of your relationship.

“Well after you’re done kneading, I’ll need you to roll it out!” you jab at him. It’s a terrible pun and you know it so you play up the ridiculousness of it, making it clear that you were the funny part of the joke, not the joke itself.

“You need me too much,” he mutters with a smile, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, the dough still turning over in his hands. You beam up at him, planting your elbows on the countertop as you watch him work.

Cheekily, you sneak a pinch of the cookie dough from the batch and pop it in your mouth. Its sugary deliciousness fills your mouth and you can’t wait until they’re out of the oven so you can decorate them.

“Hey, you know you’re not supposed to eat raw eggs, right? Could give you salmonella,” Kuroo points out in his annoying dad tone.

“Oh yeah?” you challenge. “How come I’ve done it every year since I was a kid then and I’m still fine?” you ask as you pinch off another piece. Kuroo purses his lips together at your sass, opting to pivot and tease you in a new way.

“Oh hey you’ve got some flou—” Kuroo can’t even get his silly attempt at a come-on line all the way out before claiming your mouth in a quick, hot kiss. His lips are soft and sweet sliding against your lip gloss as he deftly slips his hand over the rolling pin, smoothly pulling it out of your grasp in your moment of being caught off guard. But you quickly regain your mental footing, which allows you tug him back against you by his shirt when he tries to break away too soon, deepening the kiss. When he’s finally able to pull away, a little shorter of breath, he smirks at you, dusting the rolling pin with flour and beginning to roll out the dough.

“Well I guess you’ve just been spared by the salmonella then, hm?” he says with all the stupid confidence in the world.

You shoot him the most incredulous look, then outright snort at his terrible, terrible return of banter.

“Oh spared by the salmonella, hm? Yeah nice one,” you jab, openly laughing now at how he can simultaneously so cocky and so stupid at the same time.

“Hey!” he says in a fake pout, “Don’t mock me with your praise,” he exhales in a huff out of his nose as your laughing subsides. He considers terrorizing you for how bad your kneading/needing pun was but decides to let it go, admittedly just a little smitten at seeing you smile like that. You wrap your arms around his back, chin just barely able to hook over his shoulder, and any thought of teasing you dissipates completely. You can feel his lats flexing gently against your chest as he pulls the rolling pin back and pushes it forward to flatten the dough again and again.

Suddenly, even more so than in the kiss, you are overwhelmed by his scent—his clean soap and daily cologne that he insists on wearing, even on holidays—and you sway gently behind him, quieted a little at the overwhelming feeling of bliss as your arms are filled with the man you love. You find yourself pressing a sweet kiss to the back of his shoulder.

Kuroo feels his breath hiccup in his chest at the intimate gesture and resists the nearly overwhelming impulse to drop the rolling pin and place his hands over yours where they lay crossed over his stomach—he knows you’d tease him relentlessly if he melted so easily into your touch. In spite of all his lonely Christmases, in spite of how he never pictured himself in love like this, in spite of being terrified of letting someone in like this, his heart pounds unforgivingly in his chest. He bites his lips together as he works the dough, letting the squeak of the rolling pin be the only sound either of you makes.

The sultry tones of the Carpenters echo through the kitchen as the bridge of “Merry Christmas, Darling,” reaches a crescendo and Kuroo feels you sigh against him. Your warm breath on his skin makes something within him pop, and the rolling pin freezes in its place as one of his arms comes up and over you, coming to rest on your back as Kuroo turns in your arms quickly. In the blink of an eye, you find yourself leaning against his chest now as he rests against the countertop.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi,” he whispers back gently, his golden eyes ablaze as he ever-so-gingerly tucks a curl behind your ear. There is a moment where he doesn’t know what to say, his heart filled with some emotion he can’t describe, feeling like it might expand right out of his chest.

“You weren’t holding me close enough,” his voice is barely even a whisper. You pull your head back a little at his words, trying to look at him more closely. You swallow and slide your hands up and around his neck.

“How’s this?” you whisper gently, snuggling your body even closer against him. He just hums, an involuntary half-smile that was part pensive and part pleasure stretching across his lips.

“I love you,” he says simply, his voice full of emotion as he moves one of his hands to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone softly. You bring one of your hands down to press against the back of his palm, holding it in place. Kuroo never thought he could love someone so much, never dreamed someone could make him feel so much just from spending time with you, someone who made him so aware of being alive. Just existing in your arms was the best Christmas present he could ever ask for.

“I know,” you smile. You press up on your tiptoes and ever so slowly let your lips ghost against his, just the barest whisper of a kiss. Kuroo’s brows draw together with emotion at the shocking passion of such a feathery light touch, his heart overwhelmed with love. Holding back a shudder, he allows himself just to be loved by you. He is completely and utterly yours.

“I love you too,” you breathe as you pull no more than a few centimeters away from his lips. “But don’t think you can get out of rolling the dough now,” you wink, turning the mood playful again as you plant a quick peck on his nose.

Kuroo lets out a comically hideous laugh, his chest shuddering against yours before returning the favor with a kiss to your nose. You shriek as his arms tighten around you, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around, protesting as he seats you up on the countertop.

“Whatever you say,” he teases with a grin, unable to resist pecking you on the cheek again before returning to the dough.

A/n: I’m sobbing. I legit was all gung ho to do the third prompt you gave me bc you were right that DID inspire creativity but then I was like how cute is like getting messy in the kitchen and kissing the flour off each other’s faces....and tHEN YOU SENT ME THAT KUROO AS BOBBY BRAINROT AND IT WAS JUST TOO PERFECT.....So yes merry Christmas to you I adore you. This was fun bc I took it a little more out of context of Company and was like OH not only does he feel that way about love but also Christmas and when you combine the two? Wow this man is SO WHIPPED FOR YOU. I feel like most of my a/ns are just me going “wow this song really wrecks me” but...yeah. This song really wrecks me

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR JOINING US ON THIS MUSICAL HAIKYUU CHRISTMAS TRAIN!!! These were truly such a delight to write and gave me something to like.....look forward to during the end of my first semester of law school (rip to me still). You guys are seriously the best you make it all worth it.

taglist: @slutawara @musicgetsmeoutofbed @azo-musxas @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @honeybunny-sawamura @harokat

#kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #25 days of ficmas #elle writes

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

part 2

goes after bleu comme le st-laurent and before rouge comme le sang qui nous passe à travers

Blanc comme l’hiver

July 4th 2021

Edward lets out a content little sigh and twines his legs with Étienne’s. He’s forgotten how much he enjoys mornings like these where they lounge in bed, without a care in the world, and where lazy kisses turn to slow morning sex. He wishes, not for the first time, that the distances between Montréal and Edmonton wouldn’t be as big, if only to see his boyfriend more often. Still, he supposes that it’s gotten easier over the years, but he still would like to have more of these mornings in his life.

“Hey,” He starts, a thought coming up to the surface of his happy daze to nag at him, “D’you think it’s cliché?” He asks, knowing full well that his question has come from nowhere and that Étienne will have no clue as to what he’s asking. His boyfriend gives him a questioning look and Edward smiles softly, before making himself comfortable against Étienne’s chest, ghosting his fingers over shamrocks and thistles alike. He’d reach for a rose or a lily, but they’re out of reach from this position.

“Whenever we visit each other, it seems as though more often than not, the first thing we do is get into bed together.” He’d noticed it before and he’s noticed it now. It seemed that regardless of destination, after polite greetings, they’d end up naked in bed – and sometimes they’d get each other off elsewhere. It isn’t that he minds, far from it, but –

He feels Étienne’s chest rumble with his quiet chuckle and looks up in time to see him grin down at him.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” He replies, easy as that and starts tracing imaginary patterns on Edward’s back. It works, in a way, and soothes him for a moment. “The way I see it is – we haven’t seen each other in a long while when it happens. I missed you. You missed me. We both seem to be people who enjoy sex and we enjoy it with each other so it makes sense to go for it. We both want to – so, I don’t think there’s anything wrong or cliché about it.”

He settles back against Étienne and ponders his words. He supposes his boyfriend has a point. He had missed Étienne. He just – doesn’t want Étienne to find him – predictable. Or find him boring. Old insecurities that keep resurfacing – nothing new there.

“Promise I’d tell you if I didn’t want to and I’m hoping you’d do the same with me?”

He nods, quick to assure him. They’re in a better place now – one where they use actual words to convey thoughts and emotions. It’s still a work in progress, but – they’re getting there, one trip at a time.

“There, you see – not cliché. If it makes you feel better, I very much enjoyed what we did yesterday and this morning.” He presses a scraggly kiss to his cheek and Edward leans in afterwards to rub his face against Étienne’s beard. It feels good. Foreign yet familiar.

Étienne chuckles at his antics, and just because he can, kisses him again.

“What d’you want to do today?”

There’s no game today, so they can spend the day whichever way they want and Edward would like to spend it here, in Étienne’s room, with Étienne holding him close. Yet, he knows his boyfriend will get restless, and quite frankly, so will he. Still, it’s a nice fantasy and he doesn’t mind indulging in it for a little longer.

“What’s the weather supposed to be like?”

“Hot and humidity will kick in.”

Edward grimaces at that, but thankfully, Étienne has the means to deal with the extreme heat and humidity.

“In that case, I want to get acquainted with your pool. Yesterday’s weather was inappropriate for that and we were otherwise busy.” They share a knowing laugh at that, but Edward makes no move to get out of bed just yet. “But, it doesn’t have to be right now either – perfectly fine where I am – cliché or not.”

Étienne grinns and pulls him closer for a proper kiss.

It’s later, much later – perhaps hours and days and weeks later, when Edward finally steps out to the backyard. (But it couldn’t have been days and weeks later. The playoffs are still happening. This is just a minor break between maelstroms.)

He gasps when he gets a proper look at the backyard and marvels at how different it looks from his last visit here.

“Everything okay?” Étienne asks as he joins him, towels in one hand (one Habs, the other not), and a pitcher filled with ice and reusable water bottles in the other.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were fixing up the backyard!” It looks – completely different from any iteration of it he had ever seen. The only benchmark that reminds him that this was Étienne’s backyard is the giant maple tree in the far back, proving part of the yard with shade, the fence, the shed and the overall layout of the yard. Other than that, Edward could have passed it off as someone else’s place.

“Ah, yeah, well, I figured I might as well invest in this place. I mean – it’s nice to have a decent place where you can unwind – or something?” He sounds a little unsure of himself, almost as if he’s embarrassed, as he puts the water and the towels down.

There hadn’t been much to this space, back when Edward had visited it often. The shed, a rickety old white plastic table, two mismatched chairs, and an ashtray. The grass and whatever other greenery had been left at the mercy of Mother Nature and had suffered through heat waves and droughts alike. However, now, it’s lush, verdant and well maintained. Even the old tree looks in better shape than it ever did.

There’s a small garden, by the looks of it, where once there’d been a half dead shrub, alongside the fence. It seems as though a small fruit tree has been added at the end of it, but it’s still too soon and he’s still too far to be able to tell what fruit it will bear. Even the shed, despite being the same as it was twenty years ago, seems to have gotten a second life, but it may just be the roof shingles that have been changed. There’s been laborious work put into this yard and it doesn’t stop there.

The pool, on the other side, is obviously the biggest novelty to the place. An idea, much like many other people, born from last year’s lockdown that Étienne had decided to splurge on. He’d picked a semi-in ground pool and even though it isn’t the biggest of pools, it certainly would do the trick during the hot summer days. And of course, because it’s Étienne, he’d gone for a unique shape that fits perfectly with his backyard. There’d been more than one video call made from the comforts of his new pool and Edward had dreamed of being able to jump in it, while he’d suffered through the heat wave just last week.

Back on the patio section, Étienne had finally retired his old table and chairs and had invested in something nicer that could accommodate a bigger crowd. The table and chairs seem sturdier and even more comfortable. The entire patio section, which is shaded off thanks to Étienne’s upstairs tenant own patio, has an air of coziness and comfort. He could easily picture his boyfriend lounging on his outdoor couch and start a small fire at night in his outdoor fireplace, or pull out the hammock in the sunnier section to lay in it, or maybe even sit in those impossible positions he often takes in his egg shaped hanging chair.

“Life’s too short to have a shitty backyard,” He jokes and Edward looks back to his boyfriend and smiles softly at him. He sees beyond only this investment, but also sees how Étienne’s been slowly reinvesting in his own city in his own way. It’s still a work in progress, but Edward knows how careful Étienne has been in reinventing his own city. He’s proud – of him and of the progress he’s made and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find the right words to express just how proud he is of Étienne.

“Are those wild roses?” He asks to deflect from his own thoughts and emotions, as he makes his way closer to the plants and greenery that Étienne has planted, “And – marigolds?” He turns to face his boyfriend, disbelief evident as he takes in stock of what it is that’s been planted and that is growing. Once more, it seems, Étienne has managed to surprise him in his own way, with these quiet skills he’s kept to himself after all these years.

“Maybe,” Étienne teases and joins his side. If his cheeks are a little pink, neither comment on it for now, “If it makes you feel better, I have the obligatory irises growing as well – their blooming season is over though.”

They laugh, at the ridiculousness of the statement and stand side by side to watch the leaves sway gently in the breeze.

“I realised,” Étienne starts again softly, playing with the string of his bathing suit, “That I enjoy puttering in the backyard. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty and it gives me something to focus on that isn’t one of the millions of problems running free in my head. It – grounds me, pardon the pun.” He puffs, self-amused and Edward takes his hand and laces their fingers together.

“If you enjoy it, then I say, go for it.”

Étienne gives him a brilliant smile in exchange and Edward’s insides go soft at the sight.

He gets it though, the sometimes-mindless work of tending a garden that somehow takes you out of your own head. It’s why he’s always liked it. Gets him to think about what he’s doing and watching the garden grow and take shape is rewarding in its own way. Even if there are some issues he cannot fix in the world, he can still tend to his garden and watch it thrive and grow – problem solve when needed and see it flourish. He gets it, really.

“So, how about that swim?” He asks, before the moment can grow heavy and change into something else entirely different. Étienne tugs on his hand gently and leads him back to where the pool eagerly awaits for them.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 3 years

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Caffeinated drinks, black dots and I should’ve stayed at home

Kanene’s Notes: Heya, heya awesome beans! Howz you are all doing?!

I am very glad that I finally finished this idea dfghjkderty. Shinsou was the second character that my mind screamed that I NEEDED to put in a cat cafe and kjhgtrertyu I think that one is a litol more funny and fluff than hurt/comfort, like the one with Midoriya, but worry not! In the end of the day one more kid is adopted :D

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Dadzawa and Yamadad and their relatonship can be seen as romantic, if you wish.

* This happens in the same universe as This Fanfic Here and you can also find it on AO3.

* There is passing out due exhaustion, sleep deprivation and cursing, but besides that i don’t think that there are any more warnings. This is more funny and fluff.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing the manga/anime Boku no Hero.

* Something around 2.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Oh!! If you have an idea for another scenario in this universe, hmu! I would love to hear it !!Thankys so much for reading this. Take care! Drink water! Eat well!! Pet a cute animal today!! And please sleep a bit, okie? <3 Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Shinsou blinked for what it felt the fifth time on the last minutes, which was probably the same amount a normal human being was supposed to blink but right now it just felt wrong. He rubbed his stinging eyes again, suppressing another yawn, firm on his purpose to concentrate his brain enough on the task of remembering his order, an almost impossible action by the way a growing headache involved his mind since he woke up.

The teenager focused again on the colorful, full of doodles of paws and whiskers menu, wishing for the first time in nearly two months attending the place that the drinks’ names were objective and direct, and not awful cat puns that made his braincells prefer to combust themselves instead of gathering the necessary information to remind him of the beverage he should ask.

He squinted his eyes, dots appearing in the air. Hm. Definitely not a good sign. Maybe he should order two of the most caffeinated drinks instead of just one? He stared the menu again, frustration flaming on his veins as the words blurred and lost their signification, dancing together with the café’s lights.

And it was only 7 AM.

Perhaps he should have stayed home, on the safety of his bed and the darkness of his room. He knew he should have cancelled his training.

And yet, even thinking about that possibility made Hitoshi’s stomach be consumed by anxious tugs and knots, leaving an unpleasant taste of displeasure on his mouth. His trainings were one of the best moments on his entire week. They were events he would catch himself smiling as he thought about a newest move he learned or how his body seemed to recover quicker from the lessons. Or even how good, how right and free he felt on the gym, tired and sore, in the moment that his mentor nodded, proudness flicking in his eyes.

… How amazing it felt to look at the mirror and see that same feeling reflected on his own gaze.

He couldn’t deprive himself of that sensation, even if dealing with the painful consequences of his sleep deprivation and probably a lecture if his mentor caught him was the only other options.

“Just one more. Just one more person and then I can ask for the strongest caffeinated shit here.” Yeah. This time those cups would be enough to make him endure at least his afternoon classes, he repeated to himself in mumbles. Two cups. Two cups and some minutes petting a cat and he would be ready. He would be ready for the world and society and the whole being a functional human being thing. And then he would get on the metro and nap until he gets home where he would have the real opportunity to properly sleep. Almost there. Just two cups. Two. Two cups.

Gosh, he probably sounded like Midoriya, mumbling non stop like this. A mental image of the energetic teen looking as tired as Shinsou and drinking coffee as if his life depended on it popped on his brain, leading to a sudden urge to giggle manically take over the purple haired boy, and for the way some other customers eyed him warily he possible vocalized that impulse as well, limbs feeling at the same time too much heavy and too much light.

He was so fucking tired.

“Next one!” Loud. So loud. Shinsou obligated his body to step closer, opening his eyes enough to realize that dark spots still painted his vision. Huh. When did he close his eyes, again? “Good morning, little customer! How can I help you today?”

Hitoshi stared at the figure in front of him, senses slow like he was under water, trying to understand the distorted sentences being directed at him, the dots growing and twinkling. Black dots were supposed to be able to do that?

The world swayed a bit under his feet. He tried to move his lips but they didn’t obey him.

“Little customer?” The voice sounded worried, and maybe that is what compelled the boy to take a deep breath, putting all his will in forming word after word when a nauseating wave of tiredness hit him, leading his conscience’s grip in reality weaken.

“I am going to pass out.”

And then the world got completely black, his senses disappearing together with a background screech.

Well, fuck.

[…]

Yamada had seen a lot of crazy, strange things while working at the cat café.

As example that one shift when an adult of blue hair, strict pose and clear exhaustion dripping in waterfalls from his form was convinced that he was in a library and fiercely tried to return a book to them, doesn’t taking a ‘no’ as answer until the blond was left stupefied with a book of “The Secrets Hidden in The Bottom of The Ocean” on his arms.

Or that occasion when a boy with a blank expression wearing Victorian clothes and completely surrounded by crows opened their door, looked from a side to another, stared at the deepest parts of Yamada’s soul, analyzing all his dark fears and secrets before slowly blink and say “Wrong store, my apologies” walking back and calmly ignoring the hissing and battle yowling of dozens of cats and crows.

Or the day a green haired woman with a kind, calm aura just walked behind the counter completely unphazed by Hizashi and Aizawa’s unbelieved looks, made two healthy snacks, patted their cheeks saying ‘You two need to eat more, dears’ and then disappeared as if nothing had happened.

However, none of those events ever prepared him for the moment which purple eyes would stare his in an unfocused state, not really looking at anything and a wobbly smirk – if he wasn’t accustomed with Shouta’s grin, he would easily call it ‘creepy’ – would paint his customer’s pale face, the silence ringing alarmingly on his ears.

“Are you okay, little listener? Do you want to sit for a minute? You look extremely tired.”

As the words came out of his lips, a spell seemed to break, the other’s face getting even paler, smile falling and eyes widening leaded his body to stumble forward instinctively, something on his guts screaming for him to get ready. A few other customers on the line grumbled in impatience, looking at their watch and protesting. Somewhere, in the deep part of his brain, Yamada wondered why those things only happened when Aizawa was out and no procedures for those kinds of situations were previously discussed on their contract.

“Hey, guy,” a blonde teenager behind the paralyzed one said, tipping forward in an attempt to catch the other’s expression, his kimono following each move, “are you… here with us?”

“Little listener?”

A hesitant poke on his cheeks, two pair of eyes warily watching a third.

His mouth finally moved.

“I am going to pass out.” His voice was light, stitched together by certain. His legs trembled under his own weight, body collapsing.

“You WHAT?” A terrified shriek mixed itself between Hizashi’s words, flying across the whole store.

“Oh, shi-”

His blonde client didn’t waste a second before holding the other, arms locking under his armpits in a strange kind of hug, knees weakening with the sudden, unexpected effort, the limp teenager not even flinching with the touch, laying there completely motionless.

Hizashi blinked, gulping, adrenaline exploding on each one of his fibers, color slightly draining from his own face, a piece of his conscience wishing with all its strength for this to be only a dream. When his eyes opened, everything would be the same.

He blinked, the deafening silence still crushing the room, one set of black eyes staring at him in confusion and growing panic, another set closed, heavy, dark circles under it.

Right. He didn’t have time for this.

So, he blinked again, finding himself in front of them both, pushing his feelings under a mask of a calm, an easy reassuring smile already slipping on his face, crouching to get the legs of his customer, catching the gaze the other and winking, “let’s get him on a more comfortable position, right?”

A determined nod, quick, careful steps as they both laid the purple haired one on a small couch placed under some shelves, having to gently dislodge three sleeping cats, who hissed in irritation. The voice of Nemuri, attending the rest of the line filling the space and being acknowledged in the back of his mind, serving as a firm ground and helping his muscles to relax, even if just a little bit.

Hizashi stared the young boy in front of him, looking somewhat peaceful, a bit of color having already returned to his face, soft snores coming out from him.

… Hitoshi. That is his name, right? He wasn’t a new client, always coming at every fifteen days, always by morning and always caffeinated drinks that only Yamada - on his most delirious moments - ever thought in trying, quick to go to play with any feline who appeared in front of him. Although, he never stayed more than ten minutes, the quiets ‘bye’s he gave to the felines never failing to melt Yamada’s weak, bleeding heart.

A childish voice pulled him right out of his thoughts.

“Mom, is he dead?”

A snort escaped his lips before he could help it. Kids.

“Sir?” The teenager shook a small device with a shiny screen in front of him, the logo of a new rock band he hadn’t a chance to listen to yet on the background “I found his phone, I think we should call his emergency contact…?”

“Of course! Thank you, little helper!” He ruffles his hair, flashing a smile and thumbs up as his finger quickly clicked on the call button, listening, not trying to show his impatience as it ringed.

“You’re late.” A tired voice answered him, and Hizashi felt his entire body relax completely, right before the surprise shook its frame, too much pieces clicking together in a puzzle he didn’t even know he was solving.

“SHOU?”

[~*~]

“I am sorry.”

“You will be writing a formal letter apologizing to Hizashi, Nemuri and to me, our classes will be cancelled for this week and, if I notice you didn’t recover properly on this free time, for the next week as well. I am not going to stand by and watch you running yourself to the ground, damaging your potential because you lack of some sense of self preservation, do I make myself clear?” Shinsou tried to not visibly flinch at his sensei’s words. He almost forgot how much intimidating Aizawa could be when totally serious. They stopped by the Cat Café’s door, the black eyes staring at him.

“Yes, sir.” He answered, lowering his gaze. Shouta sighed, his worry stopping to come out as harsh and necessary words to materialize itself in the form of him patting the boy’s head, messing his hair for a few seconds before opening the door and getting into the establishment.

“Good. Now come in, Hizashi has been worried and he won’t stop pestering me until he sees with his own eyes how you are.”

Hitoshi didn’t had time to question how someone that he just met – if you consider passing out in front of him a proper meeting – could be worried about his well-being when, as the door clicked behind him, an excited screech filled the room, forging the realization that maybe that weird high sound before his faint wasn’t just the ring of his ears.

“SHINSOU!!” And, in a blink of eyes, the blonde was in front of him, hands on his face, turning it from a side to another, up and downwards, “You look so much better with some color on your face! I am glad that you finally took some necessary rest, huh? Your eyeshadows even got lighter, which, phew, is such a relief! For a very terrifying moment there I almost thought you would be as bad as this guy right here.” Yamada locked his arms around Aizawa’s shoulder, using the time to take a breather and smile, gladly giving the younger some time to process the flow of words thrown at him. “You gave us both quite a scare, kiddo.”

“I am deeply sorry for inconveniencing you and interrupting your work, Yamada-san.” He bowed, a slight embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks.

“Just please don’t do that again and you will be fine, little customer.” Hizashi then squinted his eyes on his direction as Hioshi brought himself back to his previous position, shoulders tense and straightened back, much different from his previous more slouched pose. Yamada’s eyes got a few inches wider. “You gave him The Talk!” He turned himself to Shouta, his excited sentence, loud enough to probably making his friend deaf, if the black haired adult wasn’t already used with the other’s attics, previously covering his ears before the outburst.

His response was a grunt, Aizawa dislodging himself from his touch with scoff and half heartedly mumbles, ignoring the confusion on his pupil’s gaze. “Maybe he looks like that because of your total disregarding of personal space.”

“Don’t worry,” Hizashi put his hand at the side of his mouth, as if he was confiding Shinsou’s a secret. “He only does that because he is worried about you, too. Don’t let yourself to be fooled by his grumpy façade. He is a mother hen at heart.”

“I am going to lock you outside and give all your CD’s to the kittens a their new toys.” The other threatened, going behind the balcony and turning the coffee machines on, preparing the store to open. The few cats who were already wandering around the place yowled and meowed in despair, as if the blonde hadn’t feed them fifteen minutes ago and they were starving under the hands of such unloving and uncaring creature. Aizawa crouched and distributed the treats hidden on his pockets for everyone of them, nevertheless. His friend used the distraction to mouth a ‘see?’ at the younger’s direction, eliciting a snicker from him, his body language more relaxed.

“Feel free to do whatever,” Aizawa proclaimed, not staring at the boy, who felt a flower of warmth blossom on his chest. “Just be sure that all your homework is completed by lunch time or the moment you decide to go. Sushi is probably napping now, but when she wakes up, I will warn you.”

“But first,” Hizashi clapped, capturing the attention as he walked with a dance on his step to the bakeries, taking two plate on his way. “breakfast! For you both. And that means something substantial and not just a cup of coffee.”

Shinsou startled from the table he decided to place himself, shaking his head. “Yamada-san, it’s okay, you don’t need to-”

“Nonsense, nonsense! I want to. Eating breakfast alone is just sooo boring, you know?” Hizashi spun on the place, almost throwing the muffins and breads around as Ochaco used his distraction to attack his shoelaces. “Uravity, stop, I need those.”

“Her name isn’t Uravity.” Shouta appeared again, bringing drinks and yawning, his focus changed to the boy’s. “Better give up. I’ve been fighting against him for years now.”

“Also, her name is Ochaco Uravity Fluffy Second and you just refuse to call her that because you’re just jealous of how much genius I am.”

“I refuse to call her that because I care for her sanity.”

“Lies, lies.”

Hitoshi snorted, hiding his smirk behind his hand. “I prefer his name better, sensei.”

Aizawa watched them high five between the cheers of the blonde with an unimpressed expression. “Cheeky brat.”

“You’re just grumpy because he has a good taste. Friendship ended with Shouta, now Shinsou is my new best friend.”

"I am truly devasted." Aizawa deadpanned, taking a long sip of his beverage, hiding his smirk as Shinsou snorted, Yamada's dramatic wailing in the background.

And, as the playful bickering engulfed them between the warm food and purrs, Hitoshi decided that maybe losing his weekly training wasn’t so bad if that was what waited for him.

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