#He doesn't have last name . why do they never think of the names

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Soldier Of Death (7)- Recruitment

Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+

Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.

Please consider these warnings before reading

Word Count: 2.7k

General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist

Chapter Warning: Dark thoughts, anxiety, brief reference to torture

—

"You wanted to see me?" Natasha says as she strolls into Nick's office, him requesting her presence as soon as possible. The redhead ditched the mission reports she was doing to come and see the Director, having a feeling this was something far more important.

"How are things progressing with our Soldat Smerti?" he asks as his eye is trained on her, his expression blank as he doesn't want to give away his ideas. Natasha also keeps her face stoic as for some reason the name he called you bothered her, did he not see that your name was Y/n on the file she submitted?

"She's open to talking more, still very hesitant and cautious but that's understandable for someone who's been institutionalised for a large amount of time, especially someone who was maltreated," Natasha replies, having spent more time with you over the last couple of weeks, still delivering your food but also trying to get you to talk more, expressing how you weren't going to be hurt here.

"You have taken a liking to her," he says, a little out of nowhere, catching the redhead by surprise. "You would have made your assessment by now but you seem to be waiting for something," her jaw clenches subtly, not liking how somehow this man was always able to have some sort of read on her. "What are you waiting for?"

"She wants to accept our offer," Natasha answers honestly, the man's smile sneaking onto his lips as his own plans were falling into place, the assassin unaware of his ideas. "She's just scared."

"Do you think she could be an Avenger?" He asks and she pauses for a moment, thinking carefully about his question. She could see that same glint in your eyes that she had when she was first rescued from the red room, that hopeful glint that you would be able to be more than what they made you, but at the same time the fear of betrayal hovering at the back of your mind.

"In time, yes," Fury moves to stand from his chair, moving to lean against the front of his desk while Natasha stands in front of him, her arms crossing over her chest as the man ponders for a moment.

"Why are you so sure about her?" Natasha watches the man's curious gaze, his hands resting against the wooden desk as the redhead responds to her boss.

"When Clint didn't take his shot against me in Budapest, he told me that he had this gut feeling about me, that I could be more than what they made me," Fury listens with interest at Natasha's words, remembering the mixed emotions he felt that day when Clint disobeyed his orders but helped saved what would soon become one of his most valuable agents. "I have this same feeling about her," she confesses and the man knows not to take this lightly, the Russian never letting her emotions affect her work, renowned for her professionalism.

The room lingers in silence for a moment, both figures letting the weight of the situation settle before Fury speaks up, a plan having formed in his head.

"Talk to the team about her being potentially recruited, see what they make of it," he says and Natasha is a bit suspicious as to why she was doing it, Fury normally taking the lead on these types of situations.

"What are you going to do?" she asks and he just chuckles at her scepticism.

"I'm going to talk her into accepting our offer," he says, the smile now visible on his lips as he sees the small one tugging at the redhead's lips, "See you soon Romanoff."

***

"He wants to do what?" Steve's tone laced with disbelief as he braces his arms on the kitchen island, having just finished making a smoothie after his morning run.

"He wants us to give her a chance," Natasha answers, the super soldier letting out a sigh before taking a large sip of his drink, the rest of the team gathered in various places around the common room, listening in to the conversation.

They were all up to date about you, brief knowledge of your past and known abilities being sent to them all in your file once you were brought back into the base and put in the glass cell. They knew you were powerful and loyal, so the question was would you be able to betray Hydra and trust them.

"Why should we do that? She's done nothing to prove she won't just try and kill us all," Steve says, still bitter about the pain in his side, multiple ribs having been broken during the last encounter with you, the moment where you almost decapitated him also being added to the list as to why he wasn't fond of you. "She's powerful and dangerous," he says, caution in his tone as he tries to get his point across, "She's also clearly not in control."

"She needs our help," Wanda cuts in, taking a few by surprise as she tended to stay quiet during conversations like this, only speaking once someone asked her opinion. "We can help her, that's what we do right? As Avengers?" Her words settle in a few, Natasha smiling at the brunette woman and nodding her head subtly in appreciation.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Tony says, finally speaking up which was unlike his character, normally first to voice his opinion in literally anything. "I agree partly with the old man," he says, earning a disapproving look from Steve at the nickname, "We can't be sure it's safe. Statistically, the chances of her losing control or hurting one of us is extremely high."

"See someone who agrees-" Steve tries to say, being cut off by the billionaire.

"I haven't finished Capsicle," he says, a mocking smile on his lip at the other nickname he called Steve who just glared at the man. "But since when has anything we have done been safe?"

"That's because of you Tony," Steve mutters, "You're the one who always puts us in these situations,"

"Last I recall, you were the one who wanted an ex-hydra brainwashed murderer to join our team, what's different about this one?" Steve's jaw visibly clenches at Tony's description of Bucky, the brown haired man making a valid point though. You were extremely similar to Bucky, if they could help him, why couldn't they help you?

"Bucky's different," he grits out, defending his best friend while everyone else in the room notices the tension rising in the atmosphere. "I know him."

"Knew," corrects Tony, "You knew him, Hydra changed him."

"This isn't about Bucky," Natasha cuts in, not wanting a proper fight to break out between the two, the billionaire lacking the care of stepping too far over the line, Steve being far too defensive about his friend. "Look at the facts, yes she's hydra but how many of us here have a past we want to forget, we want to put behind us? She's no different to some of you when you first joined, so why should we put that against her?"

Everyone listens as Natasha takes control of the room, Clint hiding a smile at his best friend and noticing this was her moment with you. She wasn't taking her shot with you just as he did her.

"As Steve said, she's powerful, we need that if we want to stop Hydra and any other threats."

"Since when did you do the speeches Romanoff," teases Tony, already making his mind up about his stance on your potential recruitment to the team. "How about we have a vote?" he says, using his typical cocky voice to get the other's opinion, "Who thinks Y/n should join?"

In his usual manner, Tony playfully raises his arm, making a show of himself before looking around the room to see who else agrees. Wanda raises her arm up shyly, Natasha doing so more confidently, just not as dramatically as the billionaire, Clint also raising his hand up as he trusts Natasha's gut feeling about you, the rest of those in the room, being Steve, Bruce and Vision, Sam and Thor currently not available, keeping theirs down.

Steve goes to protest, but the sounds of footsteps can be heard, interrupting the conversation.

"Well, I'm glad the vote went in our favour," Fury says as he strides into the room with authority, the room going quiet as they see you standing by his side, face stoic to mask your nerves.

Everything was so loud, the electricity buzzing around the room, the tv playing in the corner, the sounds of fists clenching, bodies tensing, hearts starting to race, it was all too loud. It was overwhelming. Steve's heart in particular started to pound against his rib cage, the memories of your last encounter causing him to be tense and on edge, your gaze meeting his blue for a split second before flickering away.

They think we're a monster. They're scared and they should be.

Taunts the darkness, your mask slipping for a second, showing a brief sense of doubt behind your eyes before your face returns to being stoic, mind fighting the gnawing corruption and forcing it to be silent.

"Meet Y/n, your new teammate," Fury says nonchalantly but also in a tone that leaves no room for argument, a few shocked faces as Natasha said potential teammate, not someone who would be joining instantly.

"Fury..." Steve's voice dies out with the glare sent his way, your eyes fixated on the view out of the window, everything else seeming to fade away.

 The compound overlooked acres and acres of field and forest, the sun gently shining down onto the grass causing it to look vibrant, the simple sight of nature almost a phenomenon to you. Too busy staring out of the window, you miss the small smile that creeps up on Natasha's face, Fury going to have a private word with a few of the team while you slowly made your way towards the windows.

You could feel a few people staring at you, your mind trying to stop the racing thoughts and focus on calming down, not wanting to have some sort of panic attack from all the attention on you. You had to block out the incessant heartbeats, the signs of their fear and tried to focus on the steady one nearby. Only once you turned your head did you realise that it was Natasha who was calm, casually walking up to you as you turned your head back to admire the view.

"It's beautiful," you whisper, not used to having such a clear view of outside your surroundings. You were used to concrete walls surrounding you, or even glass ones in a secure room, not the large windows that practically filled the entire wall, displaying the wonders of the outside world.

"It is," she murmurs back, turning her gaze from you to back outside. The others watched from the distance as you two stood near the window, Natasha talking to you while you made sure to memorise every detail you possibly could about the view. "What made you accept the offer?" she asks, curious as to what Fury must have said to you to get you to finally accept it, her emerald eyes scanning over your relaxing features.

Before you can reply, the sound of Steve's voice becoming louder interrupts the moment, Fury's stare hardening at the super soldier.

"This is going to go wrong, it isn't the right move," he says in warning before grabbing his smoothie and leaving the room, shaking his head as he enters the elevator, "I thought we did things as a team Fury, made decisions together."

"You did and you were outvoted," Fury replies and Steve just scoffs at the idea they were using a random voting method to decide your place on the team. He doesn't bother arguing back, letting the doors shut, Fury dismissing everyone and asking for you to join him in the kitchen, away from everyone.

"Remember our deal," he says, tone serious as he addresses you, "Any indication that you're not being honest with us, and you're straight back in a cell, don't make me have to do that Soldier." You nod in understanding, eyes flickering over to a glass on the table, your reflection staring back at you.

What have you done? This was a trap.

Get us out now. If you don't do it, I will. I won't be merciful.

The darkness claws at your mind, your stare going blank for a second as Fury continues to talk to you. The man notices how you seem to grow distant for a second, blinking before returning your attention towards him.

"I will leave you to adjust to everything," he says, catching the nervousness in your eyes and assuming it was from the new environment, not your broken mind. He knows it will be hard to adjust, but he has faith in the rest of the team to help you, especially after the talk he just gave them.

With Fury gone, you're left to sit alone, basking in your thoughts as Natasha holds back with Wanda, watching how the witch seems to be able to hear some of your thoughts while also keeping an eye on you, reading your body language.

Your leg bounces steadily, fingers gripping the glass a little too tight, her brows furrowing at how anxious you seem, never having showed signs like this when you were with her in the cell.

They're always going to be scared of the Soldat.

They sneer, your fingers loosening around the glass as you can feel it straining, about to shatter, the darkness laughing at the close call of losing control already.

You're going to snap. Lose control. This will all be for nothing because I will get out. I will get out and do what needs to be done.

You remain quiet, not in the position to be able to snap back at the darkness, letting them taunt and tease you, trying to get you to lose your composure. You had to learn how to deal with them, how to keep them under control, otherwise they were right. You would snap.

I can't wait to watch the life drain from their eyes, to watch them suffer.

Your jaw clenches painfully, their words purposely trying to rile you up, to prove Steve right that you were dangerous, but you don't react as Natasha comes to sit next to you. She sees straight through the small smile you send her way, Wanda having quietly told her that your static-like mind was growing louder and you needed some sort of distraction, and decides to inform you of the plan for the rest of the day, Fury having told her before he left.

"You've got a busy day ahead of you," she teases softly, emerald eyes matching her tone as she watches you fight yourself internally, your gaze eventually turning to meet her gentle one. "I'll show you around the compound first, then it's medical tests quickly and then showcasing your skills so we have a better understanding of your abilities, is that alright?"

"Medicals?" you say, hesitation evident in your eyes, Natasha's gaze going to your fingers , how they subconsciously trace your veins where you were most likely tested on before.

You can remember the agony you felt from all the injections they forced into you, the searing pain that felt like it was burning you from the insides, test after test, torture after torture, you didn't want to go through that again.

"We just check your vitals to make sure you're healthy," she explains, still watching how your fingers moved to trace a scar instead, your mind still processing something.

"Would I be alone?"

"I'll be there with you," her tone reassuring, the redhead noticing how you visibly relax, hands dropping to your sides to rest. "Now come on, we've got an entire compound to go around," she says with a playful smile, standing up from the chair and motioning for you to follow her, ready to give you a tour of hopefully your new home. 

[saintzweig]

nsfw patrick zweig x camgirl!reader

–based on this blurb

– wrote this with 5 hours of sleep, not proofread because i'm lazy so i apologize in advance for the mistakes or if its shitty :3 wasn't actually going to write this but i couldn't stop thinking about it sooo

it was 3pm on a thursday, you were sat in your history class bored out of your mind. it was your last class of the week and it had only half an hour left but with the way your professor was droning on and on about god knows what, you couldn't wait to get out of here fast enough. 

you had a live scheduled in two hours, as well. you needed enough time to rest and freshen up before you turn your camera on. you did live cams anonymously on some sketchy website just to get by, a cam girl if you will. you grew up in a strict religious household so you've never thought you'd end up doing this but desperate times call for desperate measures, it was an easy way out of your financial problems. plus, if you were careful enough no one would have to find out. its not like you were going to do this forever, only until you graduate and find a job with a decent pay. by then, your account will be deleted and forgotten about, as if it never existed in the first place. 

your mindless scribbling was interrupted when your professor called your name. "l/n, zweig"

your head snapped up to the front and then to patrick zweig who sat two rows infront of you. 

"your presentation will be a week from now, your topic will be on the reconstruction. i expect you'll do a thorough research." 

you quickly wrote down the details as your professor dismissed the class, students rushing to get out of the room while you stayed behind to gather your things. before you knew it, patrick stood infront of you. his backpack slinging over one shoulder and his hands in his pockets. 

you didn't know patrick zweig, you knew of him. a great, cocky tennis player who was supposed to go pro after juniors but his friends, art and tashi, convinced him to accept his standford offer. so he'll have something to fall back on if things don't go to plan. 

you've heard people talk about him, how he's reckless in his plays yet he keeps winning. how he doesn't do anything in class yet he keeps passing. you had to stop yourself from sighing in front of him, is he going to make you do everything? 

"y/n, right?" you've never heard him talk before, atleast not anywhere near you so you were surprised that his voice sounded ... attractive. you took this time to actually look at him, he wore a plain white shirt and denim jeans, which isn't much but he made it look so good. his face was slightly scruffy, his nose statuesque and his pink lips was pulled into a slight smirk. you had no idea why his appearance made your heart beat faster than normal. 

the two of you discussed when to meet, deciding to do the work in your dorm every other day during his free time. so now, on friday evening, you were sat on your desk working on the outline for your project as you wait for him to arrive. 

not long after, there was a knock on your door and patrick entered in his tennis attire, carrying his equipment. "a single room?" he asked with his eyebrow raised, taking in the sight of your room. the white walls adorned with tapestry and posters, your bed covered in a pink bedding and your desk was cluttered with your study materials. 

"i got lucky" you sat on your chair as he settled on your bed, laying on his back in exhaustion. there was something familiar about your room, he just couldn't put his finger on it. has he been here before? did the two of you hook up and he had just forgotten about it? or maybe it's because most dorms look the same, it's probably just similar to tashi's. he put the thought on the back of his mind as you started to discuss your project with him. 

it went surprisingly well the first day, although patrick was stubborn, he knew he couldn't just skip on this project because he'll end up having to do it alone so he decided doing it with you now was the better option. the next day, he got too comfortable that he's so easily distracted. you started bribing him with his own pack of cigarettes, taking it from his hands and putting it under your thigh as the two of you sat across from each other on your bed. 

it was a little difficult to work with him, considering he's not so good at studying but it was fun, you had fun with him. he made jokes that you tried to keep a straight face on but end up laughing so hard your cheeks were starting to hurt. he keeps trying to flirt with you too, which just ends up with you scowling at him and slapping his arm. 

and as soon as he left, you turned your camera on and positioned yourself on your bed. normally, you would only strip and massage your body, never going as far as playing with yourself in front of your viewers. but this time, you couldn't stop thinking about patrick. how big his hands were compared to you, you imagined it wrapped around your wrist, or holding your waist, or choking you. the thought making you squeeze your thighs together. you made soft noises as your massaged your breasts, imagining what it would feel like to feel his hands cupping you. you felt yourself get wet as you pressed your fingers against the fabric of your panties.

tonight's live felt a bit more sensual, it was almost difficult to stop yourself from getting carried away but you needed to be careful. so after an hour, you turned the camera off and placed your laptop under your bed. as soon as you lay back, your hand found its way inside your white, lacy panties. you shiver as the pad of your pointer finger brushed against your sensitive clit, feeling the slick against your skin as your press against your cunt. 

you spent the next hour touching yourself to the thought of patrick using your body, feeling his lips against your skin, lapping up the juices leaking out of you. the sounds you were making were too pornographic that you had to place your hand over your mouth. your fingers covered in your juices as you desperately fucked yourself. it felt like a pretty sight to see that you almost regretted turning your camera off. 

you wanted someone to see you, you wanted him to see what he was doing to you. 

the next time he came over, he had just come straight from tennis practice. his skin was slightly moist with sweat and he wore shorts that rode up his legs when he sat on your bed. you couldn't focus on anything but his thighs. 

“you feeling alright? you're looking kinda red, zoning out too” you blushed, feeling like he just caught you red handed. 

you nod, “yeah, it's just a little hot” 

he smirked, telling you to take your shirt off if it's that hot, he wouldn't mind it at all. you rolled your eyes at his suggestion, turning your attention back to your laptop. you were tempted to do it, it took you everything in your body not to. even with your choice of work, you still had a little bit of self respect and discipline left. 

that night, you ended up touching yourself on camera for the first time. making yourself cum infront of your viewers while they had no idea you were thinking of patrick, again. having your lips on his skin, straddling his lap and feeling his bulge press against your clothed cunt, his hands on your breasts as you bounce on his cock. you made the highest amount of money you've ever made since you've started. but you made sure to tell them it was a one time thing. 

the next evening, was the day before your presentation. patrick was on his way over so the two of you can practice and prepare yourself for tomorrow. 

you bumped into him on your way to the communal bathroom, telling him to go right ahead. 

patrick entered your room, dropping his equipment by the door as usual. instead of laying in your bed like he always does, he sat on your chair. leaning back with his arms crossed as he observed the trinkets on your desk and the photos pinned on the corkboard. 

a few minutes later, you walked in and sat on your bed, facing him. he turned around in your chair to ask you something about the photos but the sight of you on your bed left him dumbfounded. the realization of why your room looks familiar finally came to him, the only reason it took him so long was because the only way he's ever seen it was through the camera, facing the exact direction he's looking at right now. 

you were the anonymous cam girl he had been jerking off to after your sessions, you were the girl he had just sent a hundred dollars to the night before. 

[pilot-boi]

White Knight Time Travel idea : People are suspecting..

Jaune and Weiss are at the Vytal Festival , each one with their respective teams , their mission has gone..well.. so far. Even without trying to change so much some things never change like Team CVFY and Prof.Port saving the city or Ruby meeting Penny...

But that doesn't matter compared to the titanic work they would have to do during this specific moment..it was now or never

~Weiss Side~

Ruby:WE DID IIIT!!!!....Anyone esle is starving?....

Weiss listened to Ruby and Blake's chat from the side , each time they have this small moments the more she thinks how everyone took Beacon's days from granted

Having to relieve the fight against Team ABRN made her notice how..unprepared they were ; even herself with her "Competent" perfomance wasn't still not enough to face that monster..

Weiss..

The Grimm entering Beacon..

Weiss..

The Witch's inner circle playing right under their noses..

WEISS..

Pyrrha and Penny along many other students being casualties of the..

WEISSS!

Weiss:W-W-What?!

Yang: Your scroll is ringing , shouldn't you answer it?

Weiss noticed her scroll , the contact named "FATHER"..

Right..her time at Beacon was almost up..

Weiss:I will call him later , thanks for making me know Yang..

The Blonde Brawler has noticed her friend weird..this last few day , she can't say why..but it's there , spacing out of chats most of the time or reacting to certain words like Destiny , Maiden or even mentioning locations like Haven Academy can get her all shaky

Right now Ice Queen is looking at her Sis talking with Emerald and her silent friend like she's trying way too hard to keep herself civil , her face may not show it but that tense posture and hands behind shouted something was wrong

And to say the last person she saw acting this way her Dad after..her Supermom left was all she needed to know , Ice Queen's hiding something and she will find out

~Jaune's side~

Jaune did miss Beacon , the academy.. , but coming right back wouldn't make it any better..quite the contrary it shows him how somethings must remain as memories..

The Vytal Festival just started and the mood seems festive enough for him to enjoy a little. Children playing around , teens being themselves truly a moment to breathe fresh air

Miss : Gather around as I tell the story of the Girl who fell through the World!

Jaune tenses hearing that , it's just a woman reading a story to a bunch of kids..nothing dangerous..

Yet..

He takes a look at his armour , clean not rusted..his face is still young and Crocea Mors is still complete..

Ren: Jaune?

Jaune:W-What?!

Nora: You have been standing there for a while , did the story peak your interest? Alyx's story is a classic! The Curious Cat is my favorite character! So mischevious!

If looks could kill , Nora's smile would have been erased a while ago..

Jaune:That Cat is nothing but troubles..

Nora:What? Don't tell me you are a fan of the Red Prince? Or the Rusted Knight?

Sensing hostility , Ren tried to change the topic..

Ren:Why don't we go with Pyrrha? She's saved us a nice spot in that Mistralian restaurant.

Both teammates agree , Nora leaves because she has won another petty argument..but Jaune seemed so personal about it..The Girl who fell through the World is just a Children's story..why is he so defensive about it?

Lie Ren is someone who can read the room quite well and to his knowledge..there's something wrong with Jaune..

He acts like..an adult sometimes , there's nothing wrong with that but it seems off..

Even their stategies , they are a group of Four , Team JNPR..but Jaune always acts like only Nora and him are part of the team

Ren even hears his silent sobs when he has nightmares , the words "Cinder" "Kill" "Penny" "Pyrrha" is all he has as evidence , trying to make sense of said word it would be something like

Cinder will kill Pyrrha and Penny

That sounded so..dumb , Cinder is a student along her team but he would ask Jaune later right now they have a fight to win

👀👀👀

So many of these WK Time travel asks are from their POV, I LOVE this look into their friends’ view

[suplicyy]

heyy hope you’re gonna take this request, can you write something about canon kuroo confessing?

No time skip please. Like with a female reader which doesn’t act in love with him like the rest of the girls, she’s not pick me or stuff like this.

So Kuroo can do nothing but finally talk to her because he can’t stand the fact that she’s different from other girls.

I can’t really picture canon Kuroo confessing, that’s why I’m asking, I really like your writing!

Thank u so much

Notice me Please!!!

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

— Summary: He has his eyes on you, but for some reason you don't look back.

— Tags/Genre: Fem!Reader | Fluff

— Warnings: None!

Kuroo drums his fingers impatiently on his desk, and with one hand resting on his chin, he stares at your figure across the classroom. You seemed quite entertained listening to music, which he has no idea what it is, but that sight makes him feel something inside him.

Frustration. He admit that he can't stand seeing you like this, because you're never like that when he tries to talk to you, and that made him feel a kind of jealousy, even if it was for something inanimate.

Every time you talked to him, you seemed indifferent, almost as if you were uninterested. Damn, why don't you look at him with the same twinkle in your eye when you're listening to something on your stupid headphones?

It's been a while since Kuroo started to have strong feelings for you, your heart skips a beat every time you pass each other in the school hallways, with Kuroo always looking back when you pass by him. But he never revealed that to you of course.

And no matter how many bad jokes or flirtations he told you, how many little gifts he left in your locker or on your desk in secret and then hinted that he was the one who left them there, it seemed like you never cared about his desperate actions for your attention.

At first, he thought this was just the way you acted, that you were more shy and reserved. But then he noticed the giggles you had with your friends, how talkative you seemed to be around them.

Now he thinks the problem is with him, that maybe you hate his presence, or just don't care about him.

He is a relatively popular person at school. His volleyball team reached the Nationals, which gave great prominence to all the team members, especially him. So it's no surprise to hear girls gossiping about Kuroo in the hallways.

To tell the truth, he didn't care much about it, sometimes he would even tease Yaku for having more fans than him, but that was it.

The only person he craves attention from is you.

But he doesn't know if you feel the same way, or at least care about his existence.

So that's why today would be the day he would bring the whole truth to light. His only option now would be to confess to you. Maybe it was a last choice made out of desperation and doubt, but he can no longer bear your indifference towards him.

Your club activities are over, so you can finally go home after a tiring day of boring classes and uninteresting people.

Now, you were walking towards the school exit, but you soon stopped when you saw a certain boy with a peculiar hairstyle standing at the gate, almost as if he was waiting for someone.

You figured he was waiting for Kenma to go home since they were best friends, so you didn't care much about it and continued walking to the exit.

"Hey, [Name]!"

A familiar voice calls you. And as you turn to the side, you see Kuroo walking towards you, waving at you.

"Let's go home together, shall we?" you look around, and then you look at him again, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going with Kenma?" "He said he needed to go somewhere else to buy a new game, something like that. And since I'm alone... I thought about going with you."

He gives you a smile that would make anyone fall in love immediately, but it never seemed to have any effect on you.

You looked at him with an enigmatic expression, almost as if you want to read him through his actions and words. "Um, sure." You say as you adjust your backpack hanging on your shoulder, soon starting to walk, with Kuroo by your side.

Your house wasn't that far from the school, but in the situation you were in, it felt like an eternity had passed since you left the school gates and started walking.

Neither of you exchanged a single word, except for Kuroo who was humming some random song.

"Y'know..." he says after a moment, which made you direct your gaze to him, who was still staring at the path ahead.

"I once heard you listening to this song. You turn your music up so loud that anyone who passes by can hear it coming from your headphones." your expression changes to one of surprise.

"S-Seriously? I never realized that..." you laugh awkwardly, looking away to the floor.

"Yeah... but it's not because of music or headphones that I called you to walk with me." Kuroo stops walking unexpectedly, making you stop too.

Looking back, you notice his expression is more serious, almost as if he is a little nervous.

"Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you."

His tone of voice seemed to have changed too, which left you confused, or even a little nervous, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

"I...like you, [Name]." As he uttered these words, it was almost as if a weight had been lifted from the boy's shoulders, his previously tense posture allowing himself the luxury of relaxing, even if for a brief moment.

However, the opposite seemed to manifest in you. Previously unconcerned about what this simple walk would offer you, it was almost as if your breath was suddenly caught in your throat. Your heart soon feels like it's leaving your body, hammering in your chest in a fast, nervous rhythm.

"Huh?" you say in disbelief at what you heard. Shock quickly turns to annoyance, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "Look... don't think this kind of joke is funny, because you won't hear me laugh about it."

"Joke? Why would you think that?" Kuroo says this right after with a nasal laugh.

He walks closer to you, and you instinctively step back, until your back is in contact with a large tree that was close to the sidewalk. He stops right in front of you, and looks at you with a touch of doubt, almost as if he had heard something incredible.

"Why do you think I would make fun of something like that? You- my feelings for you... would never be a joke to me." he says with an affectionate tone, his eyes softening for a moment as he maintains eye contact with you.

"Maybe this could have been just a challenge your friends arranged for you, like in those cliché movies." your tone conveys sarcasm, but with a touch of bitterness "Or maybe some pretty girl rejected you, and is now looking for solace in anyone even remotely close to you..." "Or even-"

Your words are cut off as you feel Kuroo's lips land tenderly on your cheek. His hand reaches out to cup the other side of your face, and the other lands on the tree behind you, pinning you there.

"I like you, [Name]." he whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "And I will tell you this until you can't prove otherwise."

Kuroo takes his hand off the tree and takes your hand, then looks at you seriously. "And I mean it."

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you quickly compose yourself, and a small smile appears on your face, but this time it's genuine.

"Hmm, so you want to win me over, huh?" you push yourself away from the tree, placing your free hand on his shoulder. Your sudden closeness makes Kuroo surprised, making him suddenly feel shy.

"Only words won't convince me... you better work hard for it, Tetsurou." you move away from him, and start opening your backpack, looking for your headphones.

You give a small wave to Kuroo, but without turning towards him, focusing only on the path in front of you.

Dumbfounded, Kuroo waves back, his cheeks dyed with pink in embarrassment.

"Thank you for accompanying me, but I can go on my own from here." You say as you fit your headphones onto your head, putting on a random playlist that you made in honor of your little crush, who is definitely not Kuroo Tetsurou (it is).

— A/N: Uh........hi........I'm back.............

First of all, I want to apologize a thousand times to whoever sent me this request, I'm really sorry it took me SO LONG to post this. In addition to apologizing to everyone who follows me here, for not having given any sign of life for more than a month....😭

I really don't have a real excuse for doing this other than a total of 0 creativity and several hours of my life in hell (school), so I really needed to take this time for myself, until I felt more comfortable coming back here again.

I'm currently feeling quite creative artistically, mainly because I'm watching MHA again (which I'll probably bring here on my page) and also because I'm reading the Haikyuu manga. Plus, I passed pretty much every subject at school, so I don't have to worry so much about grades.

So...I'm officially back now!! I apologize again, and in compensation for this, I am already writing 3 more new things for you (2 are from MHA😜😜🤪); and I also won't open requests until I finish writing these, so stay tuned!!

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Book Thoughts: Ellen and Oscar

Re-reading RWRB and thinking about Oscar and Ellen. The thing is book Ellen and Oscar's relationship scares me because it's like the worst-case scenario of my own parents (they're a lot better now but covid was hell) So I understand it.

Ellen and Oscar are soulmates. As in they are both intelligent, stubborn and headstrong. They are very similar people. Unfortunately this is a case where it's like forcefully pushing two North ends of a magnet together: Ellen in particular wants and needs a complimentary relationship instead of collaborative relationship, which is why Leo works for her: Leo is meek compared to Oscar. He really just listens and generally agrees with Ellen. His appearances are limited in the book but when he does show up he doesn't really have his own opinion. Ellen wants/needs someone who won't speak up against her.

Honestly? I, kinda feel sad for Oscar. He said it himself, "We're both too fucking proud. But God, that woman. Your mother is, without question, the love of my life. I'll never love anyone else like that." It's sad to know that he never stopped loving Ellen while vice versa isn't true, and to know that she's it for Oscar.

When it comes to parenting I honestly think Oscar is the better parent. It was really shitty of him to leave without telling Alex and June and that evidently really hurt Alex til this day, but when it comes to the other parent things? I was re-reading/listening to Chapter Four today when he goes to DC for Christmas, and both Alex and June are so much more comfortable with him. Part of that is probably because he doesn't carry the inherent pressure of being the fucking president, but part of it is that he really cares about his kids as they are. Ellen downplays June's passion for journalism and pressures her into a political job that she didn't want at all, while Oscar "raved about June's latest blog post for The Atlantic". Ellen immediately started piling up all the political consequences of firstprince literally minutes after Alex plucked up the courage to come out to her while Oscar gave him relationship advice. This isn't to say Ellen isn't a good mother, she is flawed, as Oscar is, as all parents are. But if we're looking at non-crisis moments, Oscar's actions are more comfortable for his children.

There's a reason June initially wanted to go to California and be close to her dad. Yesterday I talked a little about how I hated how Ellen and Alex treated June at the earlier chapters of the book. Well in the rest of the book it's implied that she has a much closer relationship with Oscar, jumping into his arms when he arrives at the White House, him picking her up and spinning her when they arrive at the lakehouse.

Either way, Ellen and Oscar clash becasue they're too alike, and my opinion is that Ellen tends to fan the flames more, see Christmas dinner where Oscar suggests campaigning with them to help and she immediately shoots it down with "you can't be serious". Anyways, the children suffer the most. And uh, speaking from experience here, that shit never goes away. My parents are still together and are a lot better compared to the past, but I flinch at any sound of argument/angry yelling because of all of their fighting.

And there's this one paragraph in the book: "Even before Alex's parents split, they both had a habit of calling him by the other's last name when he exhibited a particular trait. They still do. When he runs his mouth off to the press, his mom called him into her office and says ' get your shit together Diaz.' When his hard-headedness gets him stuck, his dad texts him, 'Let it go, Claremont'" and God that's so shitty? To know, to be reminded that one parent hates the part of you that is from the other parent. Even if that's not what Ellen and Oscar's intention is, that's what it feels like, and it's really, fucking, shitty.

I wonder how would book Alex feel if he know that there was an alternative universe out there where his family was functional. I wonder how would he feel if he knew that movie Alex doesn't have his loving sister, but has loving, gentle parents who have a healthy, functional relationship.

My guess, is that he would say that he'd choose his life and his sister no matter what, and he means it because he does love June, but deep down a part of him would be jealous of movie Alex for having a smaller but healthier and happier family.

[mkpersephone]

Part 2! 🎉🎉🎉

This is soooo great. Magneto calls squirrel girl radio show and all he talks about is Charles🤣

Hi, I'm the unbeatable squirrel girl and I'm in your corner

Charles?

You can totally hear that squirrel saying "oh no" not this guy again.

I need a cup of sugar, Charles.

Sir, we're not–

These are clearly students of yours Charles so I know your listening...

The fact that he is never willing to listen to someone else's words or consider the possibility of making a mistake and only speaks his own words is sooooo magneto.🤣🤣🤣

It's Erik

Oh like you need to say🤣🤣🤣. Everyone in New York already knows who you are.

you see, brownies are in baking for Victor's birthday, they're more sugar than they are flour; should've called himself sweettooth Charles, hahaha. Anyway my "pentriguns" low

I don't know which part of this sentence I should focus more? The fact that Magneto is baking brownies for Sabertooth's birthday, the fact that Sabertooth likes sugar, or that Charles knows about it? Does that mean Logan is also invited? Oh God that would be great.

Also... Magneto makes dad jokes! And he laughs at them himslef? He's not even funny🤣 who told this man that he is funny? Charles I assume.

He is also very fond of saying Charles's name. For no reason at all.

That word "pentrigun" I can't quite understand what he is saying. English is not my first language, so I don't get that word properly. But whatever it is he doesn't have it and expects Charles to give it to him.

He is supposed to be your nemesis Erik, why would you ask him about "pentrigun"?

We are not Charles's students Erik. And even if he was listening I don't think Charles can–

ofcourse he can't you fool! But Jean can. Charles, listen to me, have Jean float a cup of sugar across tawn and let me know if you like to come over and watching that Dazzler rockumentry. I have better internet now Charles, I made them give me more gigs.

The citizens of New York look above their heads and see that a cup of sugar is coming from Westchester. 🤣🤣

Charles goes to Erik's house so they can watch documentary together. 🥹🥹

Does that mean Magneto went to the telecommunications company and threatened them to give him more internet? 🤣🤣🤣 Can you imagine it? "Give more gigs to this internet line, otherwise I will fry all these telecommunication cables or I will drop this atomic bomb on your heads" *Magneto said menacingly*

It's all because he didn't have a good internet last time so Charles left him early. 🤣 He's now mad!

And now is threating time:

refuse me and there shall be war between us, Charles. I will not be denied again!

Okay call me back.

He.Will.Not.Be.Denied.Again! What are you doing Charles? Don't you see/hear he is waiting for you? Go to him! Call him back!

Poor Doreen. 🤣🤣🤣 she and her friends were forcibly caught between the dramas of these two old men.

Honestly, I'm kinda into this Erik/Charles dinamic.

Everybody is my child. Everybody is.

Are thay friends, are thay enemies, mabye it's a ferenemy's thing maby it's more that a ferenemy's thing...

Did she just....? Did Marvel just...? In a cannon product...? Even the Squirrel Girl understood this from behind the radio! That they are more than that!!!!

Why are you doing this to us MARVEL?!!!!!!

Okay this was all😊 tell me what you think.

Part 1 here!

Podcast: Marvel's Squirrel Girl: The Unbeatable Radio Show. (The Sinister Six Are No More) 13:38

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here!!! I seen some theories about this whole A and L thing. That A force her way into a relationship with L let's discuss this. Facts we have is Luke never once address what this girl was to him. The girl appeared to have wanted to hold his hand in London for the paps and Luke actual straighten his hand (which showed that's the last thing he wanted to do). After all the hate she and he got he still has not addressed her title. So my question is why hasn't he? I have seen the argument he doesn't wanna bring unnecessary hate towards her. But she getting hated on and has been. So that argument is null and void. He's not saving her from anything. So if he's in a relationship with her why doesn't he just announce it? And announcing it can come in a simple form of just posting her in his stories. His name has already been dragged so what would be the benefits of keeping it without a title? If anything an argument could've been made if he did speak up most of the fans would stop. So why hasn't he posted her? She not even been in any of his stories. She not been in any of his post. He's not willingly launch her at all as someone that's important to him. Matter of fact excluding the two kisses we seen before January why haven't we gotten any type of kiss pictures since then. All these pap pictures and all we get is the life guard stance that you do to younger siblings or friends. Matter of fact in a lot of the pictures with L he looks straight up uncomfortable. It can't be because he's not use to camera and these pap pictures were taken without his knowledge. So shouldn't we have gotten some type of loved up picture? In the first year of a relationship is the loved up stage but the pictures we get seems like Luke's drunk to much and teach her to float. That's what we got. This is what we are basing our idea that this was a relationship on. This is why I don't think of her as his GF. The title of GF is given to someone. We the fans can't give her that title. Every outing we have seen them in has been a group outing. That we can prove there hasn't been a single outing that there by themselves (Spain doesn't count looking at some palm trees and a wall doesn't mean she was there). She can't post him and he won't her. All we have actually is why's? We have nothing really to go on. No actual statements. No actual posts. So were they really an item? Yes he went on trips with friends? But was she invited by him or his friends? The premiers was she invited by him or his sister? And if it was him why hasn't we actual see him stick some type of this is my girl? Unless this was just a friends with benefits thing and she pushing for more. I mean to me it makes sense. Luke isn't an asshole and a lot of people have these types of arrangements. It's normal in a sense. Maybe they had an arrangement. He gets sex without the complications of a serious relationship and she gets notoriety from being around him. There is so many maybe I doubt we will ever know. I will say I think a lot going on BTS. Nicola has gifted us and taken attention off Luke. Right now that's what we know for sure. Good things are coming guys

No notes!

[paikothecateater]

Currently working on a whale brothers + Sweden mini fic for an ask, but I feel like I have to point this out. (this is unrelated to the mini fic, I just wanted to assure the asker that I am working on it)

So, I'm sure most of you have seen this before.

It's a table of how the Nordics refer to one another.

I think this table is a pretty cool thing. It actually shows a lot more about their personalities than you'd think.

For example: Finland is the only one who calls Sweden 'Su-san' he's also the only one to refer to the other Nordics using honorifics or suffixes and this is actually very indicative of his relationship with the others.

(this is all information from Google, I can't speak for it's accuracy.)

The others do not refer to each other using honorifics which indicates a sense of over familiarity. It makes sense, but Finland being the only one who uses them indicates that he probably doesn't feel close enough to them to not use them. Either that or he's just too polite to.

He also refers to Sweden and Denmark with the suffix (San)

While for Norway and Iceland he uses (Kun)

This is actually also shown in the anime. He calls Sweden 'Mr. Sweden' and Denmark 'Mr. Denmark' though he does not do the same with Norway and Iceland. Now, Google did say that Kun is usually reserved for underclassmen and that may be the case for Iceland, but I'm not sure about how that reflects his relationship with Norway.

I've seen people talk about Denmark referring to Norway as his best friend and whatnot, but something I've never seen anyone bringing up is how interesting the usage of Boku and Ore is here.

Finland and Iceland refer to themselves with Boku. This is a generally more humble, polite and refined way to refer to oneself.

The other few use Ore which is described as being much less formal and a lot more masculine according to Google.

So essentially, the viking trio see themselves as big scary macho men, noted.

There's also something that generally intrigues me here.

Iceland has two ways of referring to Norway

Norway and Nore.

He uses Norway for international settings, but only uses Nore when it's just among the other Nordics.

According to Google there are a few reasons as to why that might be.

The one I've gotten most is this:

It's generally rude to refer to someone older than you by a nickname. It doesn't seem to matter any that they're in fact brothers. It looks like the same rules apply regardless of what relationship the two people have.

So it's just so he doesn't seem rude by calling Norway a nickname? I don't think it's that simple.

See, he calls all the others by a nickname, in fact, more so than anyone else. He doesn't change up in international settings for any of the others, even though, if anything, it would make more sense if he did.

Could it be his way of distancing himself from Norway in front of other countries? It would make sense. Iceland did always act embarrassed about being Norway's brother, so maybe this is his way of acting like they aren't as close as they are.

This is also something that happens with Denmark. Both he and Norway refer to Sweden as Sverige, but Denmark also refers to him as Sweden in international settings.

I don't think any of the last explanations work seeing as technically Denmark here is portrayed as Sweden's superior, so it wouldn't make sense for him to change it out of respect.

Google really did not help with this one so I had to come up with my own theory. While the others have some evidence in canon, this is just pure speculation on my part.

Denmark could be saying it in English to make it easier to understand when it comes to international settings. The Danish accent is known to be quite thick and hard to understand if you're not familiar with it. Denmark could be more comfortable with saying Sweden's name in Danish around the other Nordics as they're more familiar with his accent and could easily understand what he's saying.

What about Norway? Well, the Norwegian accent is considerably more coherent even to those unfamiliar with it.

You're more likely to guess what a Norwegian is saying through context clues than with a Danish person because you likely misheard what the Danish person said.

Sweden is also the only one to refer to Finland by... Well... Finland. The others all call him Fin.

We know by now that Sweden is very socially awkward so it makes sense that he wouldn't feel 100% comfortable calling Finland by a nickname, especially when Finland is the only person referring to him by an honorific. Sweden would likely worry that it'd be considered rude if he called Finland by a nickname.

There's something else I find a little interesting here.

Norway calls Denmark anko or Den

While Iceland calls Denmark Dan.

Why the difference between Den and Dan? Both the Norwegian and Icelandic words for Denmark start with Dan (Nor:Danmark, Ice: Danmörk), so why does Norway call him Den?

Maybe he's using the English spelling, but why would he do that? It's not like it's an accent issue. I actually have no clue as to why this is.

Another thing is Iceland being the only one to call Sweden by Sví.

We know in the anime and manga that Iceland has a particularly close relationship with Sweden, so it may be a product of that. Even when it's not directly shown, it's implied that the two are very close given that Iceland can pick up on Sweden's remote social cues better than anyone else. Is this historically accurate? I doubt it, but that doesn't exactly matter right now.

Here's another thing,

Finland's 'Ta-san' comes from the Finnish word 'Tanska' which translates to Denmark, but where does his 'Su-san' come from? The Finnish word for Sweden is 'Ruotsi'

Well it could be that (スウェーデン) the word for Sweden in Japanese is pronounced something like ( Suu-eden) so that's likely where it comes from. It's a little strange that he'd use the Finnish word for Denmark, but the Japanese word for Sweden.

Well, both Japanese and English are used in this table as what I'd like to call (base languages) the table operates under the assumption that whoever reads it either speaks Japanese or English, so they're used as though they were the same language. Essentially (Su-san) acts as (Swe-san) because (Ruo-san) doesn't help people who don't speak Finnish understand who Finland is referring to. Nordic, English and Japanese names for Sweden all start with the letter S. If I told you Sweden is referred to by 'Su-san' you'd probably think it's not that strange as an English or Japanese speaker, but if I told you he was referred to by 'Ruo-san' you probably would be very confused.

I'll quickly run down this one.

Norway calling Denmark Anko.

Anko is referred to as being (kind of like bro)

It is not in fact kind of like bro.

It means red bean paste.

Why does Norway call Denmark this? Well, it could be because of the red in his flag, but that's not what interests me.

Most Japanese nicknames are just shortened versions of one's name. Ice, Fin, Nor, etcetera.

Anko here is very interesting. It doesn't seem to be a common nickname in Japan. It could be that given that Denmark and Norway are referred to as best friends and are shown to be very close. This could be a classic case of a childhood nickname that carried in into adulthood.

Alright, that's all I have to say on this matter. As always, thank you for coming to my yap session. And for the asker who's waiting on that mini fic, I'm sorry for the wait. I just had to get this thought of mine out there before I forgot. I'll try to have the mini fic out as soon as humanly possible.

Also, let me know if you have any other theories about this name table because I'd be very interested to see if anyone else thought about this.

[interoteme]

Who is the best sign in host and Why is it Donny ??????? Thanks

[totheidiot]

i hate that the solar eclipse just now serves as a reminder that nobody loves me.

[timoswerner]

simon jordan sticking up for joey barton's initial complaints about women in football media, what a shock 🙄

[crystalkitty1220]

I’m planning on making an incorrect summary of ibvs and this was one of the first ideas i had

THIS REMINDS ME OF THE TIME I WAS BORED IN CLASS AND WASTED LIKE TWENTY PAGES OF MY NOTEBOOK BY SCRIPTING A "IBVS IN A NUTSHELL" THING

tags are just me being nostalgic

[thefallofruins]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

◈Sukuna who doesn't bother to even look at his concubines after he's done fucking them. He expects them to be gone immediately.

◈Sukuna who would love how they cower and tremble in fear and excitement, gaze turned down as they couldn't muster the courage to even look at him, reminding him of how powerful he is.

◈Sukuna who feels just the slightest of tingle in his heart when your pretty, innocent eyes meet his cold ones, and turn back down immediately, making him chuckle.

◈Sukuna who decides you're his favourite that day.

◈Sukuna who loves fucking you, watching you tremble in pleasure are he corrupts you, your innocent eyes looking at him so pleadingly, as if he is your god. Loves to see you covered in his marks, proudly claiming you.

◈Sukuna who hates it when his other concubines make noises. It's annoying, he thinks. But is greedy to hear your soft moans and noises that you make for him. Music to his ears.

◈Sukuna who fucks you till you're in tears, withering under him from pure pleasure, clinging onto his strong arms as you're stuffed full of him, making you squirt over and over on his cock till you can't anymore.

◈Sukuna who eats you out, spending hours between your plush thighs, licking, sucking on your puffy pussy, fucking you dumb with just his tongue, just to hear you moan out his name as he feasts.

◈Sukuna who raises an eyebrow when you gather your kimono and bow, signaling that you're leaving.

"Where do you think you're going?" He says gruffly and demands you to get back in his bed.

◈Sukuna who let's you sleep on his bed beside him, admiring how your lips part as a sweet slumber indulges you, who brushes bothersome strands of hair away from your face and doesn't understand why he does this.

◈Sukuna who let's you sit on his lap, your head resting against his broad chest as you trace the markings on his shoulder with gentleness unknown to him.

◈Sukuna who doesn't remember when he last saw the other concubines.

◈Sukuna who, even months later, doesn't find himself bored of you. Who swears his lips curl whenever he sees you smile. Who wants to see more of it instead.

◈Sukuna who swears he'll have the heads of the concubines who mocked you, bullied you out of envy, telling you that you'd be replaced one day. You never see them again after that day, but do see his the white of his kimono stained red.

◈Sukuna who brushes your tears away with his thumbs, holding you close to him. "My Queen," he says, watching your eyes widen at his words with a huge smirk.

◈Sukuna who captures your lips with his soon after. Who found his precious little Queen and intends keeps her safe at all costs.

[joycrispy]

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

[seelestia]

✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )

#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }

#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.

#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

★ 〜 masterlist.

will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.

you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.

and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?

(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)

but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.

(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.

time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?

time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.

there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.

“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.

there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.

“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.

“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”

his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.

you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!

every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”

(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)

will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.

(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)

the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.

if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.

(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)

veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.

mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”

at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.

looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.

you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.

a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.

(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)

veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”

oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.

you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.

“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.

“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.

(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)

“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.

“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”

“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”

(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)

“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”

“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.

“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.

(your heart skips a beat.)

will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.

how mysterious.

but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?

your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.

pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.

(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)

the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.

fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.

(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)

if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.

as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?

(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”

sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.

“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”

you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.

he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”

or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.

(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)

“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”

“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.

most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.

“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”

you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?

(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)

will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?

after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?

but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.

(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)

dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”

(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)

sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.

(it remains persistently.)

when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.

when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.

(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.

but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”

you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”

he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.

“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.

“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.

“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.

dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.

“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.

(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)

“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”

“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.

“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.

(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡