#I am here 4 you
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ratbaby15 · 6 months ago
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Got inspired, made something, hope you enjoy.
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Pretty accurate if I do say so myself.
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zecoritheweirdone · 8 months ago
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wanna preface this by saying that i am. So normal. anyway i just spent the last week redrawing scenes from mystery skulls animated but as that hermitcraft au i posted about a couple times. you guys should watch msa it is. so so good.
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twinstxrs · 9 months ago
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so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.
#fantasy high#dimension 20#fhjy#fhjy spoilers#fantasy high junior year#fig faeth#ruben hopclap#lucy frostblade#the rat grinders#adaine abernant#kipperlilly copperkettle#watching fig terrorize him like girl!!! we don’t even know if he’s guilty!!!!#this might just be for me but i do not think 5 teenagers willingly brutally killed their friend idk#like there just has to be some other element to it and i am very scared to find out what that was#what if they were put in a position where they felt there was/there was no other choice… like oh my god#my comedy brain is having fun but my ‘this is a teenager’ brain is in such deep distress all the time this season#the rat grinders i trust brennan to not make u cartoonishly evil so i am holding u as gently as i can in my confused shaky hands#also with the devil’s nectar i’ve been wondering why they all seem so well-adjusted & now i’m curious if they’ve been intentionally-#changing their memories in a way so that either the trauma is lesser or they think they aren’t guilty. idk#but it seems like from how gertie was talking she was making it more recently so the well adjustedness from early jy doesn’t quite add up#they could have another source maybe??? idk i’m just low stakes 4 a.m. spitballing here#there’s also the strong possibility that they’re aware of what happened but they weren’t the ones who killed lucy. idk who knows#the way you could probably devil’s nectar yourself into believing it wasn’t your fault someone died… CRAZY IMPLICATIONS!!! CRAZY IDEA!!!#anyways the bad kids & the rat grinders don’t ever have to like each other but i do wonder if at least some of those kids deserve a chance
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buttercupshands · 3 months ago
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I started drawing this next day after I finished Act 6
13 or so days and it's finished!
Main things are traditional and Loop's body was edited digitally after
Unedited it looks like this
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I've been torn on how to do Loop's body for the entirety of lining, also
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A bit sad the main lines are visible only as a wip, most of this thing is literally just a ton of sharp lines
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I think it's also my first day of drawing, Loop is just a sketch here (feat. my leg)
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I even finished the beans before it so they were a moral support, because if you let me things like this take a year
#fanart#my art#isat#isat fanart#in stars and time#isat loop#loop#traditional art#artists on tumblr#Phew#So anyway this was my way of figuring out my thoughts after finishing the game#I didn't even actually finish it with credits playing at that moment#This type of art is my therapy#And in a way literally how my personality works from big figures to small details of thinking about anything#It's really calming!#I won't tag paper figures but they're here#Like special guests#In any case the funniest thing was showing this to my English teacher and she was like 'wow this looks stressed' or something#Like she immediately looked at the lines and after I showed her my old Flowey drawing like this she was like#'oh it makes sense! This one looks calm but this one is clearly you not feeling good'#Because I was kinda#Like sitting there in the semi-park and feeling sick since morning before I started drawing this and slowly I got better#I already talked about this on my first 'big' isat thing - I needed to think a bit#And not think at the same time just literally letting myself sort stuff out#Like. I fell asleep at 6 am that day and woke up at 10 4 hours of sleep after playing full Act 5 and two hats stuff IS STRESSFUL#SUPER STRESSFUL! Like I felt like I was playing for 4 hours while sleeping#Anyway by the time I finished it aka today I'm feeling way better and I'm literally talking a walk right now#Touching grass as we speak#Anyway phew!#Now to that animatic that's plaguing my mind to draw it nowww
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shanastoryteller · 4 months ago
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The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.
Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.
He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.
Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.
He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.
1:03
That’s not possible.
That’s not –
His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.
“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“
“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.
Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”
Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.
It's easy to find a crossroad.
The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”
It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”
“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”
“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”
She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”
“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”
“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”
At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.
She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”
“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”
“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”
His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.
“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”
Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”
“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”
There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”
She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”
God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –
He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.
This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.
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aq2003 · 1 year ago
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i guess ten being considered the universe's hottest dude with women falling over themselves to kiss him is kinda crazy to me bc in my mind he is fundamentally a little wretched twig of a guy. like a drowned kitten or perhaps rat to me . i'm realizing that the spirit of donna noble is possessing me as i write this post
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egophiliac · 1 year ago
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(incoherent bird soldier screeching)
okay, I'm ready, I'm totally ready, I --
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(even more incoherent bird soldier screeching)
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runningupthatvecna · 1 year ago
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ricky-mortis · 6 months ago
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Hatchetfield @femslashfortnight Day 1: Make It Sapphic AU
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vnachtfalterv · 3 months ago
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Overwhelmed by sorrow, he sank to his knees, his heart unraveling as a storm of dark unbidden tears poured freely. His heartbroken sobs reverberated through the cold, shadowed walls of the chapel.
𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳?
𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳?
𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳?
𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳?
If 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭?
I am so sorry! I just can't leave poor Frater Imperator in peace!😫
Is it weird to say that his melancholy is somehow very beautiful to me? There's something about it that grabs me, I don't know.🥺
I just love to express his sadness (loneliness?) a little more intensely!😭💜
I hope you like it!💜
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bratbarzal · 5 months ago
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On Your Side (NH13)
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Pairing: Nico Hischier & Fem!OC Poppy Jensen
Rating: 18+ MDNI (chapters marked with *)
Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Accidental Pregnancy, Fake Dating, Miscommunication, Slow Burn (Kind Of)
General Warnings: Angst, Smut (marked with *), Fluff. (chapters will contain individual warnings)
Summary: Poppy Jensen’s job with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be her first big step into adulthood - a way to prove to herself and her overbearing parents that she could make her own way in life. She was never supposed to become involved with any of the players. Becoming best friends with their captain was stupid. Getting her heart broken by him was tragic. Getting knocked up with his child was just plain messy.
prologue
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four*
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine*
chapter ten
chapter eleven
all related asks - all related posts
Bonus:
On My Side* aka Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils, set around 8 weeks after the events of the fic, 6k words
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danandfuckingjonlmao · 3 months ago
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“when you were at uni you’d do an essay the morning of the essay! i was so annoyed!” screaming banging on the bars of my enclosure so upset about how they’ve known each other for literally their entire adult lives like they’ve been at this married life shit for 15 fucking years i’m fuming
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aenslem · 9 months ago
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Then employ one of your own superstitions. Wish me luck.
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starry-bi-sky · 3 months ago
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Clone^2 - Separation Strikes
"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.
His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.
Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.
And it was summer; Damian starts today.
"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."
Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.
"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"
"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."
Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.
Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.
Danny just...
His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.
He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.
Not like he was.
Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.
He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.
Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.
His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.
(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)
Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"
He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.
Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.
He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.
Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."
"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.
Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?
He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."
Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"
Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.
And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.
His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."
Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"
That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"
Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.
"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."
Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.
"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."
Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"
#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc au#dpxdc fic#dpxdc ficlet#clone^2#clone danny fenton#MAN I LOVE THIS AU SM#clone danny#danny fenton is a clone#i lomv. them :((( SO MUCH. I'VE MISSED WRITING THEM. i had this idea since talking to purple-goo-writes abt clone danny last week#they mean everything to me. they are the brothers ever. so family coded. don't ask me about the timeline here it doesnt exist#its post-danny's hands getting permanently fucked up and thats it lol.#parent danny is great but 'big brother danny' is SO fucking fun to write. he's silly and goofy and annoying in the way only siblings are#smth about writing danny being so full of love and kindness and protective compassion. bleeding heart that he is. its like doing cocaine#chaotic danny is SO fun and silly but kIND danny is. holy shit its better than getting high. altho ive never been high so i can only guess#there's just smth addictive in writing him being affectionate and loving and caring. he's heartful and heart full.#he's sweet - not like sugar - but like caramel. fulfilling and chewy. a kindness that gets stuck in your teeth and melts on your tongue#he's such an annoying older brother. i love him#bal mithai is a type of pakistani dessert btw. since Nanda Parbat is based off the mountain nanga parbat which is in pakistan. i figured#that the food damian had in the league might've been pakistani-based. or at least heavily pakistani in orign. maybe. i just didn't wanna#look up 'arabic desserts' and pick the first one off the list. felt inauthentic that way alsdh#translations since you wont get it through google translate:#1. 'are you nervous beloved?' 2. 'no! I am not nervous!' 3. 'I'm not everyone' 4. 'let me go brother!'#while i dont usually use 'little brother' or 'brother' as terms of endearments between siblings. Jazz canonically calls Danny that and#i figured if i worded it in a way that sounded natural. it would sound less soul-crushingly cringy. look as someone wit THREE siblings.#i know exactly how siblings interact with one another. but this felt like a special exception. they don't say it often
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hoshiina · 6 months ago
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pairing: narumi gen x gn!reader (no prns)
summary: he's always thought that anyone would do if he just wanted to find love but he realizes you're the one he wishes for, inspired by pop song by yonezu kenshi
warnings: some profanities from narumi
wc: 1300
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Narumi Gen hated a lot of things, but one of his least favourites of all time was "true love". He despised when people would describe their love for another as "true love". It couldn't possibly be that serious. Just say you loved your partner. That was probably the extent feelings got to anyways— you just so happened to like each other at the same time. To him that was plenty of a feat alone, why would you have to make it sound like more than it is? For the sake of love? Ridiculous.
To him, that was truly all love was. If there was someone who liked him when he happened to like them too, that was enough. No need for years of pining, no need to get attached to some unrequited love. All that noise about love and destiny surely wasn't all that necessary.
Now, this wasn't to say that he didn't wish to find love— because he did. Like any other person, he truly wished to be loved. It was just that what he had in mind wasn't some deep pure love that'd last forever, nor was it a promise for eternity. He just wished for a light-hearted "I love you" here and there with someone he found special.
And for that, anyone would do. He'd find someone who fancied him along the way, and hopefully he'd like them back. That was all there was to it.
This meant his plan for finding his partner was sitting around and waiting. As horribly lame as that sounded, because he was Narumi Gen, this wasn't that hopeless of a plan. So, that's what he did. He'd go around saving people and doing his duties (to the absolute bare minimum) while making sure he was constantly trending, hoping that one day, someone would like him.
Today he was standing around for a solid five extra minutes after he defeated the honju with ease, hoping the media would snap some nice pictures of him, or he'd finally charm someone this time.
"Captain, you ought to stop that," you said. "It's rather embarrassing, you look desperate now."
"Oh, would you shut up," he said. "You're ruining my good name!"
You snorted. "What good name," you scoffed.
"I'm starting to think its your fault I'm not charming anyone. Perhaps if you didn't stop me every time, someone would have found me by now," he said.
"Yeah, right. Captain Ashiro seems to be having no issues charming people and I've never seen her try to," you said.
"You little shit," he said.
"Besides they're going to be utterly disappointed if they think this is what you're like and then they find out what you're… actually like," you said, and he was starting to think you wanted him to fire you. "It's okay. Someone will see how you're actually lovely at times soon."
"What?" he asked, shocked by what you said.
"What?" you replied, confused.
"You— you said lovely," he said quietly. Suddenly he felt flustered.
"Oh," you said, looking away and avoiding eye contact. It wasn't like you didn't mean to say that, but you didn't think it was that big of a deal. Rather, how flustered he sounded took you by surprise. “Well, you’re a little lame but you’re a good guy. Like you pretend you only do it for the media, but I know you’re always checking the alleyways that don’t have as much surveillance just in case, and checking alleyways isn’t something a captain has to do. And we both know the media isn’t writing about anything you do there. Things like that.”
“You never know!” he said, and you snorted.
“Alright then,” you said. “You do you, Captain.”
“I will!” he said back, trying to sound proud.
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A week had passed and here he was, doing what he always did after arriving fashionably late to the scene and taking all the kaiju out in a matter of minutes: standing around trying to look good. Because he wanted love, and anyone would do. Anyone who liked him was supposed to do.
...
And yet he wished for you.
He wished that when he woke up, the first thing he would see was you. He wished that you'd smile at him everyday with love and genuine joy the way you did to others, and he wished that you’d smile that way to him alone. He wished that after a long day, he was the one you came home to. He wished from the bottom of his heart that you would always be safe and no harm would ever come your way. He wished that your days were filled with laughter and smiles and he knew he would risk his life to protect that.
It was so unlike him in a way he absolutely hated. True love was supposed to be nonsense and someone being ‘the one’ was supposed to be some dramatic line in a movie. It upset him, that he was so utterly fond of you. Yet, no matter how much it upset him, it didn't change the fact that he was, and he couldn't deny it anymore after trying to ignore it for the full week.
So here he was, acting stupid again, hoping that you’d scold him again or tell him he’s embarrassing himself, because that’s what it’s come down to. He just wanted another reason to talk to you.
But you wouldn’t come to stop him after 10 whole minutes.
“Why aren’t you stopping me?” he asked, irritated.
“Pardon?” you asked, utterly confused.
“Why aren’t you telling me to stop?” he asked again. He was aware how silly he sounded, but he was pissed off that you meant so much to him so he had to take it out on you.
“Because you told me to stop last time??” you replied. “I thought you were going to keep this up until you found yourself a partner.”
“You’re the one who told me to find someone that saw how I was…. lovely…. at times,” he said, but said the lovely very quietly. Remembering that you had described him as lovely made his cheeks burn and he’d rather die than let you see that.
“I mean, yeah. I do think you should,” you said.
“Don’t you notice, though?” he asked quietly, avoiding eye contact. There was a moment of silence.
“I do,” you said, and immediately he looked up to face you. You had a grin on your face and you looked so proud— you looked like you had won a game. Oh, how he hated you.
“You’re so annoying,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.
“Rich coming from you,” you said.
“So, do you—,” he started to yell before cutting himself off. Carefully, he tried again. “Would you please… uh… be mine…?”
Oh, this is so embarrassing, he thought. Perhaps you’d laugh at him, but he wanted to do this properly, or at the very least try to. He’d be far more than just stupid to mess this up now. He was finally in love.
But your laughter never came. When he looked up your eyes were wide and you looked so flustered, but soon you had the most beautiful smile on your face.
“I would absolutely love to,” you said.
So he kissed you right then and there, because there was nothing he wanted to do more at the moment.
He laughed a little.
“What’s wrong?” you asked.
“No, nothing,” he said.
There was no way just anyone would do— it had to be you.
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vermwerm · 2 months ago
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im tired
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