#I legit screamed when I spotted the blue on the sleeve

[notinkbutagoldensplash]

HOLY SHIT I’d recognise that hand anywhere!!! That’s my man Andrew reaching out to save MJ after he couldn’t save his Gwen, and I will not be okay. I love Tom’s Peter to the ends of the earth, but TASM was my first Spidey and will always have a special place in my heart. Basically, Spider-Man: No Way Home ft. The Spider-Men is a hill I am absolutely willing to die on.

[izzyfandoms]

Like Lipstick Stains On His Skin

SHIPS: Remile

CHARACTERS: Emile Picani, Remy Sanders

WARNING: Anxiety, references to heartbreak

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez @k1ngtok1

Masterpost

A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost

Emile Picani had been in love with his best friend for as long as he could remember.

The moment he had first laid eyes on Remy Sanders, his initial thought had been that that was the most attractive person he’d ever seen. And, after getting to know him better, Emile’s thoughts only solidified; Remy was funny and sarcastic, smarter than anyone gave him credit for, and casually flirty in a way that made Emile’s heart stop and pound and ache all at once.

And Emile’s feelings had only strengthened as they grew up together.

From awkward teenagers still figuring out their sexualities to adults with their own homes and jobs and independent lives, Remy and Emile had stayed friends through it all, sticking together like glue since they’d first met in middle school. They knew almost everything about each other, and they were best friends.

But that was just it – they were friends. Nothing more.

And Emile was... fine with that. He was fine.

He loved Remy. Loved, loved, loved Remy.

And, sure, it hurt when he was with Remy, but not really with Remy, not in the way Emile always wanted to be. It hurt to be around him and know that it would only ever be platonic, that his best friend would never love him back in quite the same he loved him.

But time spent with Remy was better than time spent with anyone or anything else. And Emile knew that Remy cared deeply for him, too.

Emile could take the heartache if it meant he never lost his best friend.

When Emile heard the knock on his front door, he immediately recognised it as Remy’s. He jumped up – perhaps a little too enthusiastically and excitedly, but the only person that could see him right now was himself, so there was nobody around to judge. He rushed over to the door and pulled it open. Remy’s eyes lit up when he saw Emile, and he grinned.

Emile would never admit aloud to the tremble of his heart in his chest at the expression on his best friend’s face, but he did immediately squish down the traitorous hope that emerged every time Remy looked at him like that. Which happened almost every time they saw each other.

“Hey, Remy! You’re here early,” Emile said.

“Hope that’s chill, babe. I was not watching the time.”

(Emile did his best to ignore the feelings that the use of the nickname ‘babe’ stirred up.)

Remy’s sunglasses were propped up on his head, as they often were, and his warm brown eyes were on display. He was wearing his signature black leather jacket, too, as he usually was, with a white crop-top – with the word ‘bitch’ across the front in block capitals – underneath, exposing his midriff.

It took effort for Emile to keep his eyes from drifting downwards.

“It’s fine, Remy,” Emile smiled, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on his best friend’s face. “You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

Remy laughed. “If you keep saying that, I’ll end up showing up here at 4am when I’m drunk.”

“Well, I would rather you came here than go somewhere else and get yourself hurt.”

“Even if that means I wake you up from whatever candy-coloured, cartoon-filled dreams you’re having?”

“Mhm!”

“Damn, gurl, you really are sweeter than sugar, huh? How the hell did someone like you end up being besties with someone like me?”

“Aww, Remy, I think you give yourself too little credit.”

Remy laughed again. “Nah, babes, I love myself. I’m just kinda an asshole sometimes.”

“Isn’t everyone sometimes?” Emile said.

“Not you, apparently. Come on, you’re basically an angel, like, 24/7 and I have legit no idea how you do it. You’ve got the patience of a saint and a smile that literally gives me toothache just looking at it. You’re downright adorable.”

Elation bubbled up in Emile’s heart, and those bubbles filled his chest and spilled over in the forms of happy giggles. He covered his smile with his hand, and practically melted on the spot at the soft, fond look that crossed Remy’s face for just a moment – almost unnoticeable, but Emile paid enough attention that he saw it – before being replaced with Remy’s usual grin.

“Do you want to come in?” Emile asked, still smiling.

“Sure.”

Emile stepped to the side, and Remy’s arm brushed against his own as he walked past him. He hoped the stuttered breath at the contact wasn’t obvious.

“I like the new tie,” Remy commented as Emile shut the door and turned to face him.

Emile perked up. “Oh, you noticed!”

“Course I did,” Remy said. “I’ve seen every tie you’ve got like a million times. I could tell that one was new basically as soon as you opened the door.”

“Aww, Remy... you’re great. The best friend a guy could have!”

Emile’s smile was soft, fond, and so, so caring, and – for just a moment – he could have sworn that Remy looked flustered to be the recipient of it: wide-eyed and as still as a statue. But then, the moment passed, and Remy’s expression smoothed over and returned to normal, and Emile was sure that he’d only imagined it.

“It’s nothing, babe,” Remy said, waving his hand dismissively. “You noticed when I got that new skirt last week, even though it’s identical to my old one-”

“Your old one had a big hole in it! The new one didn’t.”

“Yeah, so I had to get a new one ‘cos it made my ass look great and I wasn’t ‘bout to give that shit up, you know? Ooh, and I especially love it paired with those heels that get everyone looking at my legs, ‘cos that combo makes me look fab AF.” Remy paused. “You know what, I think that’s kinda beside the point. Any-gay, you noticed ‘cos you’re cool like that, so me noticing your tie is, like, nothing.”

“Aww, Remy,” Emile reached forward, and poked Remy’s arm. “It’s not nothing, most people wouldn’t even be able to tell! You’re my best friend, and it makes me really, really happy that you notice these kinds of things.”

Remy’s expression softened. “Well, then I guess it makes it pretty special then, huh?”

Emile felt like screaming. Or kissing Remy. Or kissing Remy and then screaming.

(Though, really, if Emile ever got the chance to kiss Remy, he’d be too busy savouring it to even think of doing anything else. Too busy savouring the feeling of warm lips against his own, of Remy’s gentle hand against his cheek, of a chest pressed against his own, of being so close to the one person he wanted to be close to more than anything else in the world. But he never thought he’d ever get the chance.)

Emile stumbled over his words, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other as he fiddled with his hands. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that, and wasn’t sure if he even could without losing control of his mouth and accidentally confessing his undying love for his best friend.

“Um...” he trailed off.

Remy laughed awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair and glancing away.

“So, uh... what did- what did your patients think of your new tie?”

“Oh!” Emile perked up again, at once both disappointed and relieved by the return to the original topic of conversation. “Yeah, two of them complimented it. And someone said the red was a nice change from the usual pastels, so I think it was a big hit!”

He smiled, and Remy immediately smiled back.

“Nice.”

“I think the pink tie’s still my favourite, though.”

“Mine, too. It’s a classic Emile colour.”

Emile laughed. “There are classic Emile colours?”

“Sure, there are! You’ve got your baby pink, baby blue and, you know,” Remy reached out, tugging gently on Emile’s cardigan sleeve. “You’ve got your cardigan-colour. I’ve, like, barely ever seen you without this thing. How many of these do you have? Like, a hundred?”

Emile giggled again, covering his mouth with his hand. “I have two. And they’re both a little different!”

“Right, right,” Remy nodded. “One’s, like, a little bigger.”

“Mhm! And this one’s a bit softer.”

Remy nodded again, slowly and with an amused tint to his smile. “So, are we gonna, like, move, or are we gonna stand in your hallway forever?”

“Oh, right!” Emile said, like he’d only just remembered that they were still stood at his front door.  

He moved past Remy, gesturing for his friend to follow as he went into the next room and sat down on the couch. Remy immediately flopped onto it beside him, getting comfortable on the soft, squishy cushions. He leant back lazily and stretched.

“Ooh,” Remy finally said, straightening up. “I bought a new lipstick yesterday!”

“Ooh, what colour?”

“It’s, like, pink. It matches the shoes I bought last week, and it makes me look killer. I’m gonna get all the guys’ eyes on me, so it sucks that I can’t wear it when I’m, like, actually looking to kiss strangers, you know?”

Emile ignored the pang of pain in his heart, and did his best to smile encouragingly.

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned,” he said. “I- I bet you look great in it. And it- it's a shame you can’t wear it when you want to.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda tempted to, you know, but, like, if I’m wearing lipstick, then I won’t know if any marks my lips make are ‘cos of my lipstick or ‘cos of soulmate shit, right?” Remy continued, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “And, like, what’s the pointing of making out with people if I can’t also know if they’re my soulmate?”

“Right.”

“So, I can only wear lipstick when I’m not looking for people to kiss. Sucks, but it’s gotta be done.”

Emile nodded slowly. Then, he paused, and his brow creased in thought.

“You don’t usually wear lipstick when you’re with me,” he said. “Even when we’re going out and it’s just us, no- no kissing strangers involved. How come?”

Remy froze in place.

“Uh...”

Emile blinked at him. He tilted his head questioningly. “Hmm?”

He could practically see the cogs turning in Remy’s head, while he searched for an answer that he obviously did not have or did not want to share. He looked... flustered, in a way that Emile had almost never seen him before – opening and closing his mouth a few times – and Emile just couldn’t seem to figure out why.

Remy and Emile just stared at each other, neither knowing quite what to say to the other. Emile was confused, not wanting to speak up at the risk of interrupting whatever Remy wanted to say. He also absolutely would not let his mind wander to the any possibilities that would fill him with hope.

A crushed hope was definitely not something Emile wanted to deal with, not right now.

Remy cleared his throat. He swallowed.

“Um- there’s...” he then huffed, looking down at his lap and running his fingers through his hair. He let out an awkward laugh, and then looked back up at Emile. “I... okay,” he sighed. “There’s something I think I should probs tell you.”

Emile stared at him, blinking. “What is it?” He asked.

“It, uh...” Remy sighed again. “I have no idea how you’d react to this. The thing I want to tell you... it could probs mess up our friendship.”

“Remy...” Emile said softly. “You’re my best friend. You can tell me anything, and I promise you this won’t mess anything up, okay?”

“You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”

“I don’t need to. I know you.” Emile leant forward slightly, giving Remy his best attempt at a soft, reassuring smile.

Remy stared at Emile for a second. Then he laughed again, a strange mix of awkwardness and nervousness and with a hint of slight joy, too – with a confusing, even a little alarming, effect. His eyes never left Emile’s smile.

“Jeez, babe. How are you making this so much harder but so much easier at, like, the same time?”

Emile blinked. “Um... is that good?”

“Dunno. But...” Remy took a deep breath. He clenched his hands into fists, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before he turned back to Emile. “Okay... wow, I’ve wanted to tell you this for forever, but, like, fuck, this is terrifying.”

Emile’s expression creased with concern. He reached forward, looking him over worriedly, and rested his hand on his best friend’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

“Remy, are you okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he frowned slightly.

“No, I- I want to tell you. God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about telling you about my feelings.”

Feelings. Feelings, feelings, feelings.

Did that mean what Emile thought it meant?

The hope rose up, though he tried so hard to squash it down, but it was like trying to fit something large in a container too small and he could hardly keep it from filling up and overwhelming him. His breath stuttered, and he was sure he tensed up and froze in place for a moment, before he finally regained his composure and physically relaxed.

“Feelings?” He asked, in a voice slightly more strangled than before. “What feelings?”

Remy let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, that’s- that’s what I’ve gotta talk to you about. My- my feelings... for you.” He took another deep breath. “I... I love you, Em.”

“I love you, too,” Emile answered back immediately. “Haven’t we said this before?”

They had. The two best friends had been friends for so long: exchanging ‘I love you’s was practically part of their routine, by now.

But it had always been platonic, at least from Remy’s side.

Right?

“We- we have...” Remy said slowly. “But that’s not what I meant. I love you. Like, love love. Like the head over heels in love kind. The- the I can never stop thinking ‘bout you kind. The, fuck, you’re so gorgeous kind. The kind that means I’m, like, basically always thinking about you and about kissing you and about how, wow, you’re- you’re just amazing. I mean, damn, I know last week when I told you that you’re my favourite person, I kinda said it like a joke, but I meant it. I like really, really meant it.”

When Remy realised that he was rambling, he clamped his hand over his mouth, like it was the only way to get the words – the pretty, pretty words that had set Emile’s heart aflutter – to stop tumbling out.

Emile was frozen.

He stared, wide-eyed at his best friend.

“Oh,” was the only thing he could say, in a strangled voice.

He was sure that his face was already bright red.

“Great.” Remy sighed, removing his palm from his mouth and burying his face in his hands. “I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?” He mumbled just loud enough to be audible. “I- I know you don’t feel the same way, babe, and it’s fine. It’s totally, totally fine. I’m happy just being friends with you, ‘kay? You- you don’t have to return anything. It’s- it’s whatever. It’s chill.”

Emile’s brain had broken. He could hardly think anything other than the words ‘Remy’ and ‘love’ just over and over on repeat.

Instead of saying anything in response to that – as he wasn’t even sure if he could – he just suddenly burst into nervous, delighted laugher. Emile was sure he sounded like he was crazy, especially when Remy turned to him with a bewildered expression.

“Did- did you really mean that?” Emile asked when he could finally collect his thoughts enough to speak, which took slightly longer than he would have liked it to.

Remy blinked. Then, his expression softened.

“Of course, I did,” he said. “I’d never lie to you about something like this, Em.”

“So, you... you really mean it?” Emile asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Remy said. He hesitated for a moment, before nervously adding: “Do you- I mean, is it-”

“I love you, too.”

There was a beat.

Remy stared back at him, wide-eyed. The moment of silence was somehow simultaneously nerve-racking and also soft and so, so exciting, because, oh my gosh, Remy loved him. Remy loved him, he loved him, he loved him!

Love! Love! Love!

And, oh, heavens above, Emile was about to start wiggling excitedly because, gosh, he really, really just had to kiss Remy, right now. And maybe – maybe, maybe, maybe – Remy would say yes if he asked.

Emile let out another giggle, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You... you do?” Remy asked, eyes wide and hopeful, and Emile was suddenly glad that the sunglasses were propped up on his head, as his expression was always much easier to read that way.

“Yeah,” Emile responded, equally soft. “I really, really do.”

“Wow. Just- just wow.”

Emile reached forward, impulsively cupping Remy’s cheek with his hand, and Remy froze. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Oh, gosh- sorry,” Emile apologised. “I should’ve asked-”

He moved to take his hand away, but was stopped by Remy covering Emile’s hand with his own.

“You’re good- you're- yes. Yes.”

And, well, that was exactly the answer that Emile had wanted to hear.

He leant forward, and finally – finally! – did the thing he’d most wanted to do for years. Years. Since the moment he’d first laid eyes on Remy, he’d thought about it.

He kissed Remy.

Softly. Carefully. Holding Remy’s face so delicately like he was holding something precious.

And the way Remy was kissing him back...

Emile had seen Remy kiss people before – strangers, friends – and he’d always kissed them like he was doing it for fun, not love. He’d never seen Remy kiss anyone as gently as Remy was kissing him, right now.

Bubbles of delight and fireworks of excitement were going off in Emile’s heart and his mind.

He sighed happily into the kiss, and he could suddenly feel Remy smile against his lips.

Emile broke the kiss with another delighted giggle and Remy couldn’t help but just start laughing with him, too. And, of course, that just made Emile’s giggles louder and more enthusiastic.

He was so focused on the laughing and the delighted feeling in his chest from the fact that he had just kissed Remy, that Emile didn’t immediately notice that Remy’s lips were suddenly pink – a light, pastel pink that certainly hadn’t been there before.

And, in fact, it was Remy who halted the laughter first, by freezing in place and staring – yet again wide-eyed – at Emile’s own lips.

Emile paused, and tilted his head in confusion.

“Remy?”

Remy opened and closed his mouth a few times, never taking his eyes off of Emile’s lips.

“Em... your- your lips.”

Emile blinked. He reached a hand up to his own lips, and swiped a finger across them. He then looked back down at his hand, and found nothing – no blood, no anything.

He paused, and then turned his head to look at the mirror that hung on an opposite wall.

His eyes landed on his reflection, and he finally noticed that there was a smear of shiny silver across his lips that definitely, definitely hadn’t been there before.

Emile sucked in a breath as Remy turned his head to look into the mirror, and he realised that Remy’s lips were now a lipstick-like pink, when he certainly hadn’t been wearing any just before the pair had kissed.

“We’re-” Remy started.

“Oh,” Emile breathed.

“Oh,” Remy echoed.

They turned their heads to stare at each other, equally wide-eyed and shocked and excited.

Soulmates.

They were soulmates.

And then Remy surged forward, and kissed Emile again.

[lunarthedragon]

Blind!Jaskier Idea

I don’t think I’m going to write a proper fic about this but the idea just had to come out. If anyone feels inspired and wants to write it? Please be my guest!!! Otherwise, hope you enjoy my excited rambling.

So, Jaskier is born blind. His eyes are still blue, but they’re clouded and blank. His parents, being wealthy nobles, want to fix this and go in search of a mage, paying anything they can to find a fix for this.

Unfortunately, this is destiny’s will and no magic can fix the baby’s eyes.

Though, one mage, a bit eccentric, and very creative, offers a spell that will permanently enhance little Jaskier’s other senses. His parents accept, because it might be the best they can do, and the spell is cast.

And it works far better than anyone could ever imagine.

Jaskier’s hearing rivals that of a bat, his scent like a hounds, taste like a snake’s, and, if he focuses really hard, he can FEEL changes in the air.

At first he screams as a baby, the new senses like torture, but he is young and adaptable and soon he becomes used to it and grows up extra sensitive to the world around him.

He learns how to ignore stimuli that hurt and how to focus until he can taste a fresh-baked pie in the air one town over. He wears silks and soft clothing, anything scratchy too painful on his skin, and wears perfumes that gently ease his scent.

And he falls in love with the sweet, sweet sound of music and cannot get enough of it! Learns how to play many, many instruments through touch and sound alone because a lute isn’t enough to sate how the music makes his sensitive ears feel. Give him a drum. Give him a piano. Give him a harp. Give him a flute. The list goes on and on, but lute is definitely a favorite.

His journey takes him on a very similar one as canon (I’m basing it off Netflix btw) and he meets Geralt, can tell he is different by his scent, and that he doesn’t comment on his singing in Posada.

He follows Geralt like usual and it takes the Witcher a far longer time than he’d like to admit to realize the bard is blind.

(”There’s no such thing as devils.”

“Right, well, whatever it is I can hear it’s heartbeat just around that rock, behind the two rows of bushes, and 40 degrees up.”

“...How...?”

Jaskier proceeds to push his low-hanging bangs out of the way and wave his hand in front of his sightless eyes.)

Jaskier spots things before even Geralt does. Things that can be helpful. Things that aren’t at all. He knows when an attack is coming... but that doesn’t mean he knows how to dodge or fight back. He’s still pretty useless in that regard. And just because he can smell a kikimora from a mile away doesn’t mean he knows how to track it across the land in between.

Still, he turns out to be far more helpful in everyday endeavors than Geralt expected.

And Jaskier has the easiest time reading Geralt’s emotions.

Witchers have feelings, everything does, it is a reaction of the brain when presented with particular stimuli that will hopefully lead to a longer, happier life. It is survival. Witchers, however, learn how not to EXPRESS their feelings. Namely through facial features.

But Jaskier can’t see facial features. He listens to people’s hearts. Their breathing. The shift of their muscles. Readjusting feet on the ground. Smell of particularly powerful emotions on the air.

Geralt can’t hide those. He’s an open book to Jaskier. Even his fainter scents are loud and clear to Jaskier.

(Jaskier is also incredibly talented at telling when people are lying, thanks to these things.)

Geralt and Jaskier also, as they become closer through the years, use Jaskier’s blindness to their advantage in other ways.

Jaskier is 100% down with making people feel bad for him so he can get things. He’ll milk the fact he can’t see, pretend he’s constantly struggling, hold Geralt so he can “lead” him where he needs to go, and even when the Witcher is around people are still more willing to lessen the price of rooms or food or get Geralt paid more for his contracts.

Geralt, at first, hadn’t been sure about it, but then Jaskier began claiming Roach was emotional support for him to the stablehands, which ended up getting the horse even more spoiled than before.

Geralt changed his tune after that.

And Jaskier will joke about being blind. He’s comfortable with it. Think this kind of attitude.

(Geralt, without Cat, dead of night: Careful. It’s gotten dark out. Can’t see a thing.

Jaskier: Oh no. What a nightmare.

Geralt: ...Sorry...)

Jaskier is GREAT with memorization, too! He’s educated and a singer, but he can’t write or read and braille hasn’t been invented, so he has to memorize EVERYTHING. It’s great for studies, for working on songs, and for winning arguments!

He’ll memorize the shapes of things, too, for later. Memorize the layout of a room for if he feels like not paying too close attention. Memorize the shapes of people’s faces when they allow him to touch and feel and understand.

It takes a while for him to convince Geralt to let him feel his face, but eventually the Witcher relents. Jaskier is soft and gentle and reverent when he feels out Geralt’s features, marveling at his beauty, coming through his hair that he knows is “white” only because people have told him so.

(Edit: I did not realize this was not, actually, a thing, but instead imagine Jaskier pretending it is, because he totally would. “Oh, you sound so beautiful, may I map out your face? It is a common thing for those like myself to request.” “Sounds legit.”)

And that’s the only thing... He doesn’t know what colors are. And the only time he cares to look good is when he’s performing since it’s a pain to correct his hair when he can’t actually see it, or feel through his clothes for the doublet and trousers that have a veeeeeery particular threading on the sleeves and pant legs that tell him they are the same color because the person that sold them told him so.

So, usually,  he still looks great because he’s Jaskier, but when he’s relaxing or in the wild his clothes don’t match and his hair is tussled and messy. (until Geralt begins fixing it, since Jaskier WILL take the time to comb out his white, long hair, make it perfect, and feel out how it should look while not doing it for himself.

“You deserve nice things, Geralt! I can’t even see my hair and nobody’s around, so who cares?”

“Hmm...” and he continues to fix the bard’s hair until he’s nearly purring.)

He still wants to know about colors, though, but no one can define them to him the way he needs.

Until Geralt, who realizes if a color is to be described to the bard, it has to be done using the other senses.

At first, all he can manage is “Red feels... hot. Yellow is... happy.” but Jaskier is still pleased by it and keeps asking, sightless eyes sparkling with excitement And Geralt vows to try a bit harder.

It’s the most he ever talks, explaining the part of the world that his bard can never experience, loving the way Jaskier leans towards him, even more than when he’s talking about a hunt, and memorizes every word.

It’s the most Geralt ever smiles, too, but Jaskier can’t see that.

[godkilller]

@izzabizz139

I wanna hear you rant about the Gin vs Hitsugaya anime fight bc I love seeing your pov and you clearly write better than whoever extended that scene :) pretty please

          out of character.  DON’T ENABLE ME SO MUCH !!  No but I cackled when I first saw this ask because oh my god, clearly you saw a taste of my annoyance about the anime adaptation -- no, adaptation implies it was accurate, I’ll say the anime’s take was “inspired by” the manga’s quick run-in. I’ll start by saying this moment is supposed to be a bit important considering, via the audience’s point of view, THIS IS THE FIRST WE SEE OF TWO CAPTAIN-RANKED SHINIGAMI CLASHING. The only other captain-involved fight we’ve seen thus far in the manga is Kenpachi  ( who is an outlier and should not be counted... no, I joke... but, still, Ichigo was not an equal to him, his sword was sliced through like butter. )  The whole reason I enjoyed this encounter between Toshiro and Gin was simply this; it wasn’t some fancy multi-chaptered fight. IN THE MANGA, THERE ARE ONLY TWO BLOWS MADE. One, by Toshiro, to begin the fight. The second, to end it, is Gin’s strike.

          I want you to know that I’ve rewatched this specifically to answer this ask, and only due to this, as I wouldn’t have ever sought it out otherwise. HONOR MY SACRIFICE.

          Read more for length. I’m merciful.

          In the anime, they monologue at each other, and it’s mostly a combination of Toshiro making three separate death threats  ( he starts this off by saying “I’ll kill you before Hinamori arrives” and then goes on rewording it each time, and then also repeats the death-threat he gave Gin prior to this conflict about “I’ll kill you if Hinamori bleeds” )  and then also Gin and Izuru talking about how truly powerful and amazing Toshiro is -- no, this isn’t me being bitter or petty, I literally shit you not, Gin has a line that is legit “AS EXPECTED FROM HITSUGAYA TOSHIRO, CAPTAIN OF THE TENTH DIVISION, A CHILD PRODIGY OF TH' SORT THAT ONLY COMES ALONG ONLY ONCE EVERY FEW CENTURIES. HOW VEEEERY DANGEROUS. YOU’RE SERIOUS, AIN’T YA?” like don’t get me wrong, love a good sarcastic little shit comment like that, but the amount of times the anime pumps Toshiro up like he’s their shinest new cash cow ( and he is, at this point, it is not even 50 episodes into the series and they’ve realized everyone likes him and he’s jumped to high ranks in popularity polls... earning him filler spotlights, and eventually his very own non-canon movie )  so everything coming out of Gin’s mouth feels like more bullshit than necessary. Izuru’s already literally monologued, internally, how powerful and amazing Toshiro is anyways. Why this ?

          Not to mention that, prior to saying that long-winded shit, Gin’s haori changed length three times  ( and once it was longer than his entire body by several feet, and no not in a ‘to show motion’ way )  and most importantly Shinso was drawn, consistently, at katana-length for the duration of their little spat where the following, too, happened: Gin frog-leaps after doing a backflip, Toshiro gives Gin two (2) haircuts, Gin ruins some floorboards and gives Toshiro at least one splinter in his arm, Toshiro whilst wearing socks lands on Shinso’s blunt edge and pushes the sword down with his footsie because that’s how that works, there’s another backflip somewhere in there that Gin doesn’t need to be doing, twirl, twirl, and ballet, Gin’s face elongates until his chin is bigger than his face, Gin spends ten+ seconds purely dodging very close strikes to his face as Toshiro is the only one making breathy growly and ‘tsuuaaah’ sounds, there is a brief moment of no gravity as Toshiro keeps hacking at Gin midair and Gin blocks it over and over again but they still stay in the air but they’re not standing or jumping or using reiatsu they’re just like, momentum-locked I don’t fucking know, Gin frowny faces as he blocks because like somehow this kid who doesn’t even have more reiatsu than him, whose arm strength should not be an issue, is like. making him nervous?? as sword sparks fly. if you know me at all you know I hate when they fuckin’ firework sparkler-ify swords clashing.

          Anyways, all of this happens whilst Shinso is the wrong length and Gin’s hair is getting purpler by the second and this entire thing is somehow a big jack-off to Toshiro’s immense strength even though he’s screaming and wailing at Gin like a child and Gin’s just a vessel at this point to Enhance Toshiro, which, fine, okay, but at least be more accurate with it god damn. ANYWAYS,

          THEY JOUST. They literally run at each other, swords centered, and run past / to the side of one another. Jousting. “Cause that’s how that works. No slashes, no cutting motion. Just swords centered, because the animators were like “no worries guys I know swordfighting basics that’s a legit pose” yeah it is WHEN STATIONARY. Not rUNNING IT DOWN.

          And then Gin’s sleeve is cut, somehow, from the Jousting, because wow Toshiro wow wow wowowowow, and then Toshiro comes back and starts wailing at Gin again and Gin blocks it, again, and it’s all very annoyingly repetitive, and Gin’s frowning and sparks are flying and Gin’s using Shinso, the katana-length wakizashi I guess, with two hands because like I said, the animators knew basics and basics are “katana are used two-handed” like. Okay, you’re not wrong, but I cannot stress this enough: SHINSO IS NOT A KATANA. It’s shorter and meant to be used single-handed!!!! sTop!!! So then Gin rips off the tattered part of his sleeve and throws it at Toshiro, who swipes it away from his face using his Zanpakuto because that’s intelligent and a piece of cloth was definitely threatening enough to use your sword to bat it away  ( btw, Hitsugaya wasn’t holding his sword with two hands at this precise moment, so he could have just... used his other hand )  and then Gin goes in for the classic “stabby stabby rapidly at you while the animation gets a little breather because we repeat this cycle a few times with flashy bgs and phew money made” ... WE ARE FOUR MINUTES AND THIRTY SECONDS INTO THIS FIGHT BY THE WAY. Gin does this for seventeen (17) agonizing seconds straight. Yes, I counted. That was sixteen and a half too many seconds for me, personally.

          Toshiro somehow lassos Shinso whilst Gin is stabby stabby-ing with Hyourinmaru’s chain component. I say component like it’s somehow some type of beauty guru’s lipstick holder, but really am I that wrong ? When else has he ever used this feature ? Anyways, he lassos Shinso because yeehaw I guess, god I’m falling apart at this point can y’all tell????? I need a drink.

          and so, because now Toshiro has Gin’s sword somehow trapped with chain even though it’s just looped around it, he backflips over Gin for a cool trickshot, no blow issued, just vibes, and Gin uses a big brain moment to tug Shinso and the chains slide off. okay now what. We’re past five minutes into this fight, nonstop.

          SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD TIME FOR GIN TO PAUSE AND APPRECIATE TOSHIRO AGAIN! “I see, I shouldn’t have underestimated you, HItsugaya Toshiro” I’m starting to have a feeling Gin’s VA was told to just wing these lines because the amount of times he fills silences / Gin’s mouth movements with Toshiro’s long-ass name is astounding, he’s definitely drawing blanks here but he sure as hell knows one thing: that damn ice-boy’s name. He continues by saying “I suppose I’ll end up regretting it afterwards.”

          Toshiro says that’s not enough, and it’s really dramatic and cool. His eyes even glow all icy and blue and pretty, like his flowy reiatsu. Aesthetic points were gifted entirely to Toshiro’s animations in this scene. Gin was finished in MS Paint and each new scene they had to draw Shinso from memory and try to remember what hue of purple his hair was at gunpoint. Toshiro lets off a big wave of reiatsu and then it vanishes, and he jumps up reaaaally high. like this guy’s flying. his eyes arent glowing anymore that’s sad. Bring Back Glowing Eyes For Strong Shinigami 2k21.

          Toshiro releases his Shikai, and it’s badass, the sky darkens, Izuru looks distinctly more worried than usual, and Gin’s frowning with his teeth out like Bugs Bunny’s having a bad day, all is right in the world. Toshiro and his released Shikai have a nice moment for the Pics, and a big epic freeze frame blur moment happens with it all coiled and swirling around him. Wrow!  ( click the ‘wrow’ it’s a link to my exact reaction )  Izuru narrates for the third time about how powerful Toshiro is, his reiatsu, his Zanpakuto being a deity who is only unlocked every few centuries. The strongest ice-type sword. Pardon the pun, but that’s... you could say, so cool.

          It can even control the weather. So hey, next time it’s rainy, cold, icy, or snowing and you’re unhappy, it’s time to direct a big fuck you at Toshiro.

          Gin dodges the first dragon, and blocks the second with Shinso because blocking water and ice with a sword makes sense right? This actually takes a solid amount of seconds as Gin cuts through the entire length of this ice dragon noodle. Things dissipate, and pause, too, to really drag this out. Surprisingly, this reveals that Gin’s made a boo-boo, his left arm’s frozen, which doesn’t even mean anything because Gin is right-handed, and Toshiro teleports himself behind Gin in true fighty fashion.

          We have arrived at seven minutes and just under twenty seconds of this fight, and Gin turns, DOES THE UNTHINKABLE, gasp! He opens his eyes. His red, dull, evil, gray-eyebrowed with purple hair eyes, and shoots Shinso through its hideout spot behind his haori. This nearly takes off Toshiro’s eye and upwards of his head, but the little guy dives down fast. The rest happens in slow motion, supposedly, because it takes an eternity and people talk entire full sentences in its span of time.

          Gin asks Toshiro if he’s sure he’d like to dodge that  ( it’s a little late for that ) and says that Momo’ll die if he does. SHINSO SCRAPING ALONG AGAINST HYOURINMARU STRANGELY MAKES NOT A SINGLE SOUND. Mute. Even though before they had no problem animating and adding sounds to them smacking blades earlier. There are soundless sparks though, so there’s that. Yay. Can you tell how exhausted this’s made me? I need a nap.

          Shinso is already more than halfway towards Momo, still unconscious, she most definitely has a serious concussion via Toshiro backhanding her midair consider she’s been unconscious for longer than ten minutes. Toshiro has time to get up off the floor where he dropped to dodge, realize with a shocked gasp, turn, shout her name, and watch as Rangiku arrives in a random glow of gold which never happens ever again and blocks the attack with Haineko. Haineko almost cracks on the impact, and continues growing in damage as Rangiku holds Shinso there, implying that she’s stopped it from reaching one-hundred sword’s lengths to pierce Momo. Yes I’m including that implication / note in here because we love to see Rangiku succeeding in life and being Not-Helpless, all while potentially damaging Haineko severely if it wasn’t able to hold him off. Yikes, Gin!

          Rangiku threatens to join the fight if he doesn’t withdraw his sword. Gin smiles, withdraws it, and then Shunpos away.

          Whatta mess. Oh, and the anime fight was pretty fucked up, too.

          This is a long post, but here’s the manga version:

Toshiro leaps into the air,

This is where the fight actually starts between them:

And end. 

Five pages. Two blows. Does not equate to ten minutes of non-stop fighting and monologues. Sometimes, and I mean this in the most unbiased way possible, less is more.

[launchsteinward]

This is for the MB challenge by @somebodyalreadytookthis2

Tuesday:

By Moonlight

Once upon a time...

There was a Hero. There he stood, infront of his greatest challenge yet. Bravery and determination burning in his eyes.

His companion stood by him, a flicker of mischief in his smirk.

"Let's go"

Ignoring the dark flowers in full bloom, the duo snuck upto the castle under the cover of darkness: guided by moonlight.

Quietly but surely, the duo snuck into the castle through the back door which had conveniently been left open.

-And so, their journey to save the prince and kill the Demon king began.

___________________________________________

He slowly opened his eyes, a headache pounding against his skull. "W-where am I?"

The prince growled in annoyance as he racked his throbbing (nonexistent) brain for awnsers. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of what appeared to be a rather well kept cobble stone dungeon, he decided that it was time to leave.

With a small grunt, he pulled at the chains chaining him to the wall: the chains instantly snapping with a loud 'SNAP!'

___________________________________________

"AHHH- F#CK F#CK F#CK F#CK F#-"

"You sure you dont need help, Cross?"

Blue asked, eyebrow cocked and leaning against the castle wall. Cross ran, dodging attacks for the 13th time. Yes. He had actually died to this demon grunt 12 times and this was his 13th time fighting it.

"NO IM FIN- SH#T-"

'As amusing as this is, This has gone on long enough' mentally sighing for the XX time, he summoned his makeshift sword and ran forward. In one swift motion he stabbed the demon in its eye and cut a huge gash in its face. Soon enough, the demon dissolved into a pile of dust.

*you gained XXX exp.

*The rest of your party gained exp due to XP

share.

*you gained 37 gold

"...How-"

"That was a Swiggityswooty, Idiot. Their weak points are their eyes."

Blue stated

"..I knew that"

Cross grumbled before stalking off as though he was sulking.

"Alright" Blue smirked, amusement lacing his voice causing Cross to pout even more.

It was almost cute in a way.

___________________________________________

The Guards looked at each other. So the loud snap wasnt just their imagination. Nodding to each other: a silent message being exchanged, the pair if Demons held their spears and approached the cell carefully.

According to their lord this was one of their most dangerous prisoners yet, and they had to be very careful when approaching them. One motioned towards the steel door and the other turned the key, slowly and silently.

"STOP WHATEVER YOUR DOING AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR"

They burst into the cell, spears pointed outwards as they stood back to back. They looked around the cell, only to find it empty.

The two demons eyes widened. One stood up from his crouched position and approached the broken chains while the other pulled out his walkie talkie.

A pair of golden eyes glistened in the corner above the door.

Before the guard could even turn on the device, he was knocked out, head smashing against the stone cold floor.

The other guard turned around as fast as he could at the sound of the thump. He saw a dark figure look at him. Gold eyes where the last thing he saw.

___________________________________________

Dream rubbed his hands on his pants, smearing a purple substance all over it. Did he care? No.

He was very slightly irritated that one of the guards had ripped the sleeve off his shit, making one of his arms completely visible. His blood lust gauge was a quarter way full and he hadn't lost any of his stamina. He was ready to kick some demon ass.

Quickly, he reached into a small secret pocket on the inside of his boots. From it- he pulled out a small black tube. After unscrewing it, he looked at his reflection in the (now unconscious) guard's armour. Carefully with a steady hand, he drew across his eye perfecting his eyeliner.

Now- He was ready to kick some demon ass.

___________________________________________

"WTF is that!"

Cross screeched clinging onto Blue and pointing at the demon they had just come aCross. Said demon was black with white spots- or was it the other way around? No matter. It had two golden horns and eminated a terrifying low howl: MOOOOOO-

Cross screamed once again, pulling himself closer to Blue. Blue tried to hold back his laughter as he looked upon the so called beast that struck such fear in the great hero.

A cow demon. One of the weakest types of demons there is. Even Blue knew that someone as 'bright' as Cross could take on this demon with ease.

Blue held Cross in a comforting manner as he contemplated killing the demon himself- or letting Cross kill the demon himself and get over this seemingly ridiculous fear of his.

As Blue was hung up between these choices, Cross pulled himself closer to Blue, fear prowling his mind and looking for some sort of protection from this foul monstrosity of a demon.

Neither seemed to notice the demon dissolving into a poof of smoke and a purple clad skeleton approaching them curiously.

"Umm.. hi?"

Both Blue and Cross jumped at the appearance of the new skeleton.

Cross quickly scampering out of Blue's hold: cheekbones red in embarrassment.

After collecting himself, Cross eyed the newcomer: taking in his royal purple clothes and golden crown. His eyes widened and he froze as he realized the stranger matched the princes description perfectly.

Cross was brought back to reality by Blue's voice.

"- yeah, strange you wouldn't know where you are. The Demon King's castle isn't really a forgettable place. I'm Blue by the way. The monochrome guy is Cross."

Blue shrugged pointing his thumb back at Cross.

"I- I'm Nightmare. It's a pleasure to meet you, Blue and Cross" The skeleton: now dubbed as Nightmare said giving a bow.

"What's with the formality? Theres no need for it here. We're all friends right?" Blue said giving Nightmare a pat on the shoulder.

'YOU CANT DO THAT TO A PRINCE BLUE!' Cross mentally gasped in horror, the tables turning for a brief moment in time.

"O-oh. I see.I-if you don't mind me asking, w-what are you two doing here?" Nightmare asked, tilting his head in a questionable manner.

"Actually we're here on a mission. You see, I'm a hero and we were sent to kill the demon king and rescue the kidnapped prince" Cross decided to speak up.

"A-actually I'm a prince." Nightmare whispered hesitantly.

"SWEET! That's one thing down. Guess we're going to have to find the Demon King next" Cross said excitedly taking off ina random direction.

'So we're not going to question how he got free in the first place?... seems legit' Blue thought.

Nightmare looked in the direction Cross went before looking at Blue quizzically. "...is he allways like this?"

"I'm afraid so. Just roll with it."

___________________________________________

Dream walked through yet another hall. He had no idea where he was and when he tried to threaten ask any demon he came across after beating them up, they would faint before they could even spit out a word. It was frustrating to say the least.

'Why isnt there an exit sign?' Dream mentally grumbled stopping as he heard something. Quietly but swiftly he made his way forward: making sure to stay unseen in the shadows. The sound of humming seemed to get louder as he saw a figure, cruising their way down the hall in the direction he was going. Not thinking much of it, Dream ran forward and pinned the figure below him, his elbow to the others throat.

It was only then that the prince got a good look at the person under him. Surprisingly, it wasnt a demon, but a skeleton monster. Clad in maroon clothes: an assortment of charms hanging off his neck as well as a pointy hat, Dream could only assume that he was a spell caster. That or a witch.

The stranger sneezed: sort like a kitten, eyelights changing shape and colour as he did so. 'Strange.' Dream thought to himself before noticing a rainbow hue on the strangers cheekbones.

"U-uh, hi? You gonna get off me or...? not that I mind" The stranger said, mumbling the last part so that Dream couldn't hear.

"Oh- yeah, sorry about that. Thought you were another demon scum." Dream said getting off and helping the stranger up.

"Its fine- I'm Ink if you wanted to know or- if not. You're Dream right?" Ink said eyes changing shape once again.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Dream said immediately on guard again.

"Oh, c'mon. Your a prince. Of course I know who you are. That and they won't stop yelling about it" Ink once gain mumbled he last part.

"What was that?" Dream asked, guard dropping a bit at the logical reasoning Ink had presented him.

"Nothing" Ink quickly shook his head before mumbling again, quieter than last time: "shut up guys, your getting really noisy"

Dream shrugged before realizing the whole purpose of this encounter. "By any chance, do you know where we are exactly?"

"In the west wing of the Demon Kings Castle, last I checked." Ink shrugged pulling out an odd looking staff from his inventory.

"I see. Where's the exit?" Dream questioned earning another shrug from the smaller. "In the north wing I suppose"

"And which way is the north wing?" Dream sounded exasperated. "That way." Ink said pointing his staff towards the hall Dream just came from. Dream groaned in annoyance before picking Ink up and putting him on his shoulder like a potato sack. The smaller was lighter than Dream expected, making it easier to hold him down with one hand as the other struggled to get free.

"Stop struggling. Your showing me the way out of this place. Then your free to do whatever you want." Dreams sturn voice cause Ink to freeze.

Dream was shocked as he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Looking to where Ink had just been he realized the other had vanished.

"Looking for someone?"

Dream instinctively turned around and punched whatever had just snuck up on him. He opened his eyes when he felt the hard yet smooth surface of polished wood against his knuckles. He immediately made eye contact with a pair of somewhat familiar mismatched eyes.

"Hi again."

Dream pulled back and sighed in annoyance. "Warn me next time you do that. I may actually end up taking off your head."

Ink giggled slightly before shrugging. "Whatev. Just, dont carry me again. I guess I'll tag along for now as this could be fun but don't be expecting too much from me"

___________________________________________

"Hey! I think I almost finished the puzzle!" Cross yelled triumphantly as he moved the last stone onto a platform.

Blue chuckled while Nightmare giggled at Cross's enthusiasm. It wasnt even a hard puzzle but they let Cross do it due to the shimmer in his eyes. So here they where, half an hour later with Cross finishing the puzzle.

As the door to the next room appeared, the trio made their way over to it. When Nightmare accidentally stepped on a hidden pressure plate activating a pitfall trap, causing Cross and his companions to fall down into the floor below them.

___________________________________________

"So your a wandering trader?" Dream asked curiosly as he beat another demon into a pulp.

"Yup! Mainly magic weapons and potions" Ink said, leaning against the wall and playing a flute.

"Huh, Cool. If you dont mind me asking, why did you become a wandering trader rather than just, you know- a regular trader?" Dream through the passed out demon to the floor: his bloodlust gauge reaching half.

Ink stopped playing the flute, his expression serious. "Let's just say I made a vow. A vow never to get attached to anything."

There was an ominous shadow hanging on Inks face, preventing Dream from seeing the smallers expression.

Ink felt a haunting warmth surround him.

*Dream used hug on Ink!

He couldn't stop the tears pricking at his eyelights. It had been so many years since he had felt warmth familiar to this.

Dream rubbed the smallers back in a comforting manner as Ink seemingly broke down.

"I-I tried so- so hard to s-stop it" Ink hiccups, burying his face in Dream's blood stained chest.

"B-b-but it s-still hap-pened an-nyways. Now t-their a-a-all go-ne a-and itss a-lll my fa-fault! I-if only I-I wa-warned t-them- they cou-uld have e-escaped." Ink chocked, his voice cracking as Dream pulled him closer.

"Shhhhhhh" Dream whispered as he started to gently sway them: in Hope's of calming the other down. He always did this whenever Nightmare had a breakdown.

Soon enough, the smaller had stopped sobbing: letting out little hiccups here and there."Ink..." Dream started, feeling the other stiffen against him.

"I dont know what happened to you in your past but I can tell you this. Dont let your past weigh you down. You may have lost some very important people to you in the past- but that doesn't mean you should make new ones. I'm sure that whoever you've lost would want you to be happy and make new relationships rather than avoid people and travel constantly." Dream said, an usual softness: only used on Nighty, in his voice.

After holding Ink for a few more minutes, Dream spotted another demon start to approach them from the corner of his eye. Carefully nudging the smaller off him, he motioned to the demon before heading off to kill it: not seeing the light blush and small smile playing on Inks lips.

___________________________________________

"- and then I told them 'that's not an emo, that's my brother!'" Dream exclaimed earning a giggle from Ink. "You can imagine their faces when they found out that was their prince" Dream ended with a chuckle.

Ink in the other hand looked like he was having an extreme giggle attack. He was clenching his stomach while giggling and letting out strangely adorable snorts in the process.

Dream couldn't help the slight heat burning on his face as Ink continued to giggle and snort.

"Wh-" was all Dream managed to get out of his mouth before the floor below him gave away and they both fell into a pit below them.

___________________________________________

Extra:

Dream groaned. 'Where am I now?'

His eyes once again had to get used to the familiar darkness of the dungeons. Exept: that wasn't where he was. He seemed to be in some sort of underground chamber with little to no lighting. He could just make out thousands of wide pillars holding the chamber up.

He groaned in annoyance. Now he needed to find a way out of here. If only he had a guid- Ink! Dream looked around frantically: looking for the trader's staff or even hat. After finding nothing in the darkness, he sighed. He could only hope that Ink was alright.

Thats when he heard it: a set of voices. One extremely familiar. Using his heightened sense of hearing, he headed in that direction. Creeping behind a pillar: he could barely make out a party of 3 silhouettes. One similar to his own.

"Nighty?"

___________________________________________

Before

First

Next

[mythical-song-wolf]

OfC: Headcanon 4

Ryoko and Shimoto Edition

Ryoko is a fan of the heroes Ground Zero and Deku

Shimoto is an even bigger fan of the Wonder Duo. Some where on the level that those two are fans of All Might

Shimoto is a big fan of heroes!

Her top faves in no particular order

Midoriya

Bakugou

Todoroki

Shinsou

Shimoto’s Quirk has yet to be revealed, the warp Quirk is neither hers nor Ryoko’s. Her ability to break the fourth wall is just something because of her connection with Ryoko

The main logo on Shimoto’s outfits (such as the zipper on her hoodies or the button on her clock) is a wolf in a music note

Actually made roughly the logo I’m envisioning as my profile picture! Of course, since I can’t draw for the life of me, I just used pre-existing images from google and mashed them together

If anyone can draw a better version of it please!

Shimoto does have a... ‘special’ connection to Kurogiri, but not the league or All For One... kinda

Shimoto, physically, goes to the event going on to watch in person if she so wishes and if it doesn’t seem like she’ll be spotted

She was in the crowd during the sports festival (she was ready to scream at the people complaining about Uraraka getting hurt by Bakugou)

She was there to watch Endeavour cook the shit out of that Nomu

She wanted to watch all of the exams but U.A. has great security

For the most part though, Shimoto and Ryoko watch over the Wonder Duo in a viewing room

In Chapter 24, Shimoto was polishing a blade like the knife Stain used against Shouto (the one that cut his cheek and the two that stabbed his arm)

There’s a separate version of how the two enter the hospital that I was supposed to used but I messed up with editing but basically in that version

Shimoto’s ‘civilian’ outfit during the hospital incident was a multi-piece ensemble

Black long sleeved shirt (well fitted)

Black gloves with white finger tips

Dark grey jeans (with a dark blue belt)

Boots similar to the ones on Katsuki’s hero costume

Midnight blue medieval hood

The surgical mask thing she wore had the signature design of the Wonder Duo. Twin Stars of orange and green

Pink tinted lens for a pair of star shaped glasses

In the canon version, Shimoto wore

Everything minus the mask and the glasses, and the hood was a full on cloak

She still had a mask on but it was a black one that was a pull up and covered her neck

Shimoto’s hair style is like the female Izuku hair styles, but mainly when it’s in a ponytail! (Without the pony tail, it’s like Midoriya Inko’s but a bit curlier)

Ryoko’s eyes are a space blue colour, but when using his Quirk it looks like the stars and all of existence are reflected in his eyes

Ryoko’s hair is a top to bottom gradient of black to a cool grey

Ryoko and Shimoto’s real names are--sncoixahwdniuxahuyxhsciuseheosegiufchs

Due to spoilers for a story that the author might write, we have intervened

-Shimoto

Relax, the author will be fine. We don’t care that they reveal out appearance and things like this but our names are currently a territory that they’re not allowed to go in

-Ryoko Tempus

Shimoto is a name that was an impulse decision that I don’t really remember how it came to be but after doing some research I think I put together the Japanese word for ‘sister’ being Imoto and the Japanese word for below, down, under, younger being Shi. Making ‘Shimoto.’ The combination of the two words I think I used that directly translate (via google translate for the ending) says that ‘Shimoto’ means student

Ryoko’s name is legit Travel Time. Ryoko (Ryokou to be more accurate) means travel. Tempus means... kinda obvious but it means time. Travel Time. The Villain. Spooky

In the other draft of how the two get into the hospital, they say these fake names that do have a meaning as it’s a combination of varying stuff in Japanese that took me forever to make.

Ryoko’s fake name was a particular pain since I already had Shimoto’s fake name before hand

Shimoto is going to host a featurette on the January 25th chapter

I hope you guys enjoy that chapter! The author is, in fact, done with Wonder Duo V All Might for the final exam, but is hesitant about some part and doesn't really know how to change them around. So I'll be hosting what's goin' on that day! There's a chance 'Ryoko' might also host one of these chapters *wink wink nudge nudge*

-Shimoto

Ki... no...

-Ryoko

>:O

-Shimoto

Why did you type that in? I can hear your offended gasp! I'm right next to you!

-Ryoko

Wait why am I even typing this?!

-Ryoko (inserted by Shimoto because Ryoko stormed off to pout)

The reins are back to me! Hopefully you guys don't mind the next chapter, as it’s not going to be the continuation of the final exams just yet. I’m sorry!

[whoacanada]

NHL!Bitty, Part XII -  ‘A Stanley Cup Wedding’

The Schooners win game seven and dethrone the defending champion Falconers to claim Seattle’s first national title. 

Eric was definitely not expecting Jack to propose immediately after losing.

(A rework of the ‘Game 7 PVD vs SEA’ prompt that totally retcons some NHL!Bitty stuff, so timeline-wise: the Falconers took the cup Eric’s second year with the Schooners. The Schooners win the following season.)

NHL!Bitty Masterpost

Game Seven. Third period. Eric’s running on adrenaline, blue Gatorade, and rage.

Jack and the rest of the Falconers first line are racing to catch up, but Eric is ‘criminally fast’ (thank you ESPN for the lovely descriptor), and it’s almost too easy to whip the puck to Carter and wait for the siren.

Snowy can’t stop it. The Schooners will win in regulation. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, Eric sees Morin’s breakaway as the death knell of his relationship. He has flashes of Freshman year and he thinks ‘Jack is going to hate me’.

Eric closes his eyes and waits.

The siren blares and someone slams into his side, but he only has a moment to rally before he’s hit by a wall of sound that vibrates the ice beneath his skates and reverbs in his chest. The whole arena must be shaking because he’s never heard anything like this before.

Except that’s not quite true, because he was there last year in Providence, it’s just that the sound wasn’t directed at him.

It’s Seattle’s first championship.

Eric forces open his eyes and can’t see much beyond the mob of teammates that have surrounded him, but there’s someone else. A body in Falconer’s blue that’s mushed up against Eric and screaming as loudly as any of his teammates.

“Mon Petit Lapin est un Champion!” Jack shouts, right in his ear, before pressing a sloppy kiss against Eric’s cheek, the affectionate gesture hidden in the safety of the huddle.

So much for Jack being upset.

When the mob starts to break down Cricket notices Jack among their ranks and grabs his jersey to pull him away from Eric. 

“Zimmermann! Get back to your own team!” 

“Mon dieu, t'es beau,” Jack continues talking, refusing to break eye contact even as Bay shoves him back to wrap Eric in a hug of his own.

“Ouais, il est,” Bitty says back, though Jack can’t hear him, skating back to console the Falconers after the loss. “I am. Oh, my god, I am. We won.”

“We won!” Cricket echoes, and the team roars. 

They line up to shake hands and when Jack reaches Eric he says, “I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you.”

Eric doesn’t have time to respond before he’s being coaxed along and Tater slaps his hand so hard Eric thinks he might have broken something.

The next few minutes are a blur of screaming, sweaty hugs, candid photos, posed photos, interviews, and distantly he can see his parents with the Zimmermanns behind the glass, waving and waiting to be escorted to the ice. Behind them, Eric can just make out the small hoard of Samwell alums dressed in custom red ‘Bittlemann’ and ‘Zimbits’ jerseys, though Shitty appears to have shed most of his clothing at this point. 

Eric slips away from another reporter and, overwhelmed, can’t quite figure out what to do now. He wants his parents. He wants Jack. He wants to lift the fucking Stanley Cup.

They’re rolling out the carpet for the cup presentation and someone is tugging at his arm. Someone that stinks a lot like --

“Jack!” He spins and hugs his boyfriend before remembering there are cameras and pushing away quickly.

“It’s okay,” Jack assures him, pulling him back into a tight hold. “I’m gonna propose,” he huffs against Eric’s sweaty hair, “right here.”

“What? Now?” Eric asks, not sure if its the exhaustion or just generic shock. “I mean, are you going to come out?”

“Right now,” Jack nods, pulling back with a goofy grin. “But only if you want to.”

The music is deafening and out of the corner of his eye, Eric can see Cricket grinning like a loon before a swarm of reporters and several cameras. They’re bringing out the cup, and Eric doesn’t exactly care because Jack’s going to come out. And he just proposed that he is planning to propose?

Maybe he has a concussion. Maybe he’s not thinking clearly because is what universe does Jack lose the Stanley Cup, come out, and propose to Eric at the same time?

“But you lost,” Eric says gently, afraid Jack’s about to realize he’s made a mistake. 

“And you won,” Jack counters, just as gently, cupping Bitty’s face. “And you have no idea how proud I am. Six years ago you’d pass out if you got hit. Tonight you ran me into the boards twice!”

“Cause you were being an asshole, Sweetpea,” Eric defends, fighting the warmth rising in his cheeks.

“And it was great, but you know who helped you through that? I did,” Jack grins. “Checked you so many times you forgot you hated me. So, it’s a bit like I won too, you know? I got to see the man I love, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, fearless.”

Oh. That’s. 

Eric grabs a handful of Jack’s jersey and pulls him down into a kiss, heedless of the flashing lights and screaming spectators. When they separate Jack’s expression is dazed.

“So you’ll marry me?” Jack cradles Eric’s sweaty face and peppers kisses across his cheek. “Please say yes. Make it official.”

Eric grins and tucks his face against Jack’s neck, “Yes, I will marry you.”

They’d discussed it before, in the same half-measures and what-ifs that always circled conversations about their relationship and Jack’s eventual coming out. 

Somewhere between the playoffs and this moment, Jack must have made peace with his demons because he’s here now, declaring his love on the biggest stage he could possibly find. It’s only by the grace of the hockey gods that no reporters have managed to stick a microphone between them yet. 

Then Eric blinks, noticing Sorenson’s blond head in the crowd, and he has a bold, terrible, horrible, wonderful idea.

“Sorenson is ordained,” Eric says, just loud enough for Jack to hear. “Our family and friends are here. What about right now?” 

“Right now?” Jack stares at Eric and grins like he hasn’t just lost Game 7 of the finals. Like Eric isn’t about to hoist the cup. Like they didn’t just out themselves on national television.

“That’s crazy,” he breathes, pulling Eric into another kiss. “Let’s do it.”

Something bubbles up in Eric’s stomach. Butterflies? Adrenaline? Sheer joy? Perhaps all of the above?

Carter swings by with a stack of hats and shoves one on Eric’s head so the brim knocks against Jack’s nose. “Stop macking on your man and come lift the fucking cup!”

Jack laughs and shoves the cap out of his face. “Carter, we’re getting married. Right now. Grab Sorenson.”

Morin freezes. “No shit? Can I be his best man?”

“Sure, just get Andrew before it’s too late. We have to kiss when Bits lifts the cup.”

Morin retreats and Jack takes Eric’s face in his hands again. 

“You sure this is what you want, Bits?” Jack asks, brow furrowed slightly. “I’m all for it, but if we wait for everyone to get over here we’ll be swarmed. We have to do this right now.”

Eric pulls Jack’s hands down into his own and smiles up at his fiancé (fiancé!). “I’m okay with that if you are.”

Sorenson skates over with Bay and Morin, interrupting the moment. “What’s this about you getting married?”

“You’re still ordained, right? We want you to marry us.” Eric explains. “Like right now.”

Sorenson looks at Morin. “Is this legit?”

“Why would we lie about this?” Bay shoves Sorenson’s shoulder. “C’mon, you in or out?”

“What, now? I mean, yeah, I can, but shit, Bittle, you’re putting me on the spot, you have vows? Rings?” Eric shakes his head and Jack must mirror the action because Andrew just groans and rips off his hat. “Fuck guys, fine. I’ve never done a gay wedding, but okay.”

He motions for them to scoot closer. “Uh, dearly beloved --”

Eric sees an NBC reporter hovering nearby and snaps his fingers to interrupt. “No time, skip to the end.”

“Bridezilla over here -- do you, Eric Bittle, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold in sickness and in health yadda yadda yadda?”

“I do,” Eric says, taking Jack’s hand and squeezing tight.

“And do you, Jack Zimmermann, take Eric Bittle to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Definitely,” Jack breathes, smiling so hard Eric thinks his chapped lips might split. 

“Then by the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church, you fuckers are married.” Andrew waves his arms half-heartedly. “But not totally. You still need paperwork, and Morin and Bay are your witnesses.”

“Sick!” Bay high-fives Morin.

Eric tugs the sleeve of Jack’s jersey. “Hey, we still need to kiss.”

“Not yet,” Jack warns. “We should both be touching the cup when we share our first kiss as a married couple.”

A few short years ago, Eric would have laughed outright at Jack’s superstitions. But now? 

“Lord Stanley will bless the union, and the league will fear our power,” Eric jokes, only half-kidding when Jack’s smile turns just a little self-indulgent. 

“Bittle!” Someone yells, and Jack shoos him away.

“Go be with your team!”

“I think I’d rather be with my husband,” Eric says, and Jack flushes pink before Eric looses sight again, Carter dragging him bodily back to the reporters and the cup. He blinks and he’s standing beside his captain while the world narrows to the trophy held above his head.

“Congratulations, kid,” Cricket grins, handing the cup to Eric. “You’ve earned this.”

Eric grips the metal tight and feels the weight of it for the first time. Not just the 35 pounds of silver and nickel, but the weight of a legacy far bigger than any one player. 

He stops fighting the urge to be presentable, lifts the cup high and screams, forcing every painful moment in his entire life out into one throat-shredding cry. 

For every church lady who looked down her nose at him and talked to Mama about ‘camps’, for every relative who described his love of figure skating as ‘faggy’, for the classmates who wouldn’t sit next to him and the junior varsity football players that actually tried to kill him . . .

For every person that every tried to make him think he was less than. 

Fuck you.

His cheeks are wet, the crowd is going nuts, and his parents are crying. 

Bob has an arm around his father’s shoulder and Coach is crying.

He needs to pass the cup on, but he’s not ready yet. He scans quickly for Jack’s name from the previous year, and when he finds it he brings the cup to his lips, pressing firmly enough he’s sure ‘ZIMMERMANN’ can be read plain-as-day on his lips.

‘Thank you for giving me this,’ Eric thinks, blocking out everything else for just a moment. ‘And thank you for giving us Jack.’ 

He blinks against the lights and finds Jack in the crowd, beaming beside his parents. 

It’s time. 

Eric makes a b-line to his family (His family!) and stops short of Jack. 

“Hey,” he says, suddenly hoarse with the realization that this is his husband. He’s married (kinda), he’s holding the Stanley Cup in front of everyone he’s ever cared about, and Jack Zimmermann’s ass will forever belong to Eric Richard Bittle.

“Hey, Bits,” Jack replies, barely audibly over Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster chanting ‘Bittle, Bittle, Bittle.’ Eric motions up with his chin and Jack reaches up to cover Eric’s fingers with his own until the cup’s weight is split between them. 

By now word has spread and every camera in the arena is trained on them, but he tunes out the crowd, his teammates, the reporters, his friends, his parents and his in-laws, and he leans in to capture Jack’s lips.

It’s not their first kiss, but it might as well be.

[multifandomimaginethings]

“Halloween” Stiles Stilinski Imagine

“Ugh why did they have to make her hair so complicated.” You whine as you keep pausing and unpausing  the hair tutorial playing on your computer.

“Just make sure it looks perfect, we need to make these outfits look legit.” The voice replies through the phone speaker.

“Stiles, your lucky I’m even doing this, do not test me.” You warn.

“I’m just saying this has to be the best Halloween ever and because you love me and would- Ok I can sense your death stare through the phone I’m going to stop talking.” He rushes out, god this boy talks fast.

“Good idea.” You laugh.

“So your coming to my shmmmhshsh?” You say as you place a bobby pin between your teeth as you try to roll the plait in circles.

“I got none of that.” Stiles stated and you groan and reluctantly take the pin out of your mouth and let your hair drop.

“I said, your coming to my house at eight right?” You ask.

“Oh yeah eight, yep.” He confirms.

“Ok babe I’m gonna go.” You say. “Ok, I’m serious I can not wait I have been counting down the days and you are going to look so-” He rambles. “Stiles!” You laugh. “Yeah?” “I love you and goodbye.” You giggle. “I love you too but-” You hang up on him and shake your head as you continue to try and get your hair to stay in position. Oh god how did I let myself get talked into this.

“Ok I have an idea what we can go as!” Stiles says excitedly as he types quickly into google imagines.

“Oh god what?” You ask. “Batman and Robin! Obviously I would be Batman-”

“Your kidding right? First off I am not going as a dude and secondly and most importantly I am not going as a side kick! I’m way above that babe.” You argue flopping down on his bed. “You’ve got a point, ok what about..” He says deep in thought as he sits down next to me. “I know! Han Solo and Princess Leia, you can wear that really hot gold bikini- ow!” He yells as you smack him around the head.

“Alright I deserved that.” He admits rubbing his head.

“Ok what about, oh I know!” He says then his eyes widen as a light bulb goes off.

He rushes over to his closet and fumbles around with his back to me.  He turns around with a Darth Vader mask on. “Luke I am your father.” He says in a deep voice causing me to giggle. “That’s cute but no.” You say seriously. He quickly rips off the mask chucking it somewhere, “Luke, your father I am?” He says desperately. “You are not going as Yoda, Stiles.” I giggle and he moans in annoyance and flops down next to me.

He keeps listing ideas off and I continue to say no as I fall back onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling declining all of them. “Ok what about Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia?” He asks as I feel the bed dip and I feel his body heat as he lies down next to me. “No, they’re brother and sister and we are dating, true they didn’t know they were twins when they kissed but it’s still really weird and I could not bring myself to kiss you in those costumes.” You sigh.

You feel Stiles turn his body on his side to face you and you glance over to see him smiling at you. “What?” You ask turning to face him. “Nothing it’s just your so hot when you talk nerd to me.” He smirks. You giggle and lean over gently placing a kiss on his mouth. You shuffle over so your resting your head on his chest and he happily snakes his arm around you bringing your leg over his so your bodies become entangled.

“You created this nerd.” You joke as you gently trace the lines of his plaid shirt. “I know.” He says smugly.

“Look can’t we just, go as Mario and Princess Peach or something?” You ask biting your lip to resist from smiling to spoil the joke. You look up to see him death staring you. “Are you freaking joking? Please tell me your joking or I swear-” “Relax babe, I was kidding.” You laugh as he rolls his eyes and lets his head rest back on the pillow.

“Ok I will go as Princess Leia but-” You say giving him a pointed look as his eyes light up. “Only if I wear the white dress.” You say and he grins. “Deal babe.” He smirks bringing your head up for another kiss.

You sigh adjusting your hair one more time as you look in the mirror. Yep definitely needs another coat of hairspray. You grab the can and apply as much as you can before your eyes start to water. You spin around in the mirror picking at the white material, you stumble around and groan. You could barely walk in these ridiculously high boots.

You hear the doorbell ring and you grin. You slowly make your way down the stairs gripping onto the railing. You call out a good bye to your parents and you swing open the door and immediately let out a snort of laughter at Stiles. God he was a dork. His eyes widen at the sight of you and his jaw literally drops.

“Holy shit you look- I mean you look- like really hot.” He admits causing you to go a crimson red. “That was definitely not in the movie.” He says referring to the slit in your dress exposing your skin right up to your middle left thigh leaving your knee high boot on display. “I know I’m sorry, but this was the only one they had-” “Are you kidding, do not apologize you look amazing.” He breathes.

“Why thank you Mr Solo, you don’t look to bad yourself.” You smirk. “Your majesty.” He bows jokingly. “Would such a beautiful princess like yourself do me the honor of escorting me around the streets as we knock on doors for candy?” He asks extending his arm for you to loop your arm through.

“Well since Chewbaccas not here I guess you’ll have to do.” You tease sliding your arm through his as you walk out of your front yard. “Ah yes Chewie my faithful companion…” He begins causing you to giggle.

You had been out for an hour now and so far it had been way more fun than expected. Even though most of the people out where like half your age you and Stiles didn’t mind. He kept asking you if you wanted to bail and head to Lydia’s annual Halloween party but you insisted you didn’t care, you would rather watch Stiles act like an adorable child than be pressed against sweaty bodies for hours.  

“Stiles!” You say pulling on his sleeve. “What.” He says looking back at where you were staring. Once he spots what you were indicating, you both look at each other smirking and nod together. “He’s home alone, Melissa is out on a shift and he told me he was going to study instead of going to the party.” Stiles adds as you both speed walk towards Scott’s house.

You grab his hand in yours and ring the door bell rocking on the balls of your feet as you hear his footsteps running down the stairs.

“I’m sorry I’m out of-”

“Trick or Treat!” You and Stiles both scream causing him to jump.

“Jesus Christ, *yn*, stiles? What the hell are you guys doing?” He asks his face full of pure confusion. “It’s Halloween.” Stiles states. “Duh.” You add.

“Yeah but why aren’t you at Lydia’s party, oh yeah ok just.. come on in.” He continues as Stiles leads you past Scott as he continues to ramble.

“We went trick or treating.” Stiles grins stopping once he’s insider and swiveling around. “Thoughts?” He asks gesturing at our costumes.

“Uh, good….” Scott trails off.

“You don’t know who we are do you?” Stiles questions.

“Yeah of course I do! Uh you guys are from um Star… Trek?” He winces and I internally cringe. Bad mistake.  “Star Trek, S-star Trek.” Stiles says letting out a loud harsh laugh.

“Oh god here we go.” You mumble  rubbing your temples.

“It’s Star Wars man! Oh my god how many have I told you to watch those movies! They are pure freaking art Scott!  It’s literally a blessing to sit and watch those movies! Jesus what’s next, you’ll be telling me Anakin and Luke are brothers? Or the correct chronological order is movies one, two, three, four, five, six and not four, five, six, one, two, three?” He says forcing out another bound of stressful laughs.

“Why wouldn’t it be one, two, three, four, five, six?” Scott asks glancing at me. Oh those adorable brown eyes aren’t going to save you this time Scotty.

“Oh god it hurts, it physically hurts.” Stiles says dramatically as he clutches at his heart.

“Stiles don’t you think your being a tiny bit over dramatic, I mean they’re just some stupid movies.” Scott says attempting to lighten the mood.

“Oh you’ve really done it now Scotty.” I sigh shaking my head as I watch Stiles turn slowly to Scott. “S-stupid movies? Stupid movies! That’s funny Scott, hilarious.” He says. “Quick question, will it still be as funny after I beat you over the head with this a couple hundred times?” Stiles asks as he pulls out his fake light saber. Oh god.

Stiles begins to run at Scott and I shove myself infront of him. “Stop!” You yell. You were about to get up both of them when an idea came to you. Probably your best one yet. One that definitely benefited you.

“I have an idea how we can settle this.” You smirk.

“Wait so what are we doing again?” Scott asks as he watches you move the coffee table out of the way. “Simple. You and Stiles are going to have a duel.” I say grabbing Stiles’s light saber from him and mine out of its holder on my hip. “Now who wants-” “I shots blue.” Stiles calls snatching it out of my hand causing me to roll my eyes.

“Ok,” I say as I sit down on the couch, a perfect seat to witness the entertainment. “If Scott wins he gets all the candy we collected tonight.” I say pointing out our two over flowing bags as they both stand on either sides of the carpet. “What do I get if I win?” Stiles asks. “Me.” You smirk sending him a playful wink. I watch him as the grip on his light saber tightens, now he had something to fight for. “How do you determine who wins?” Scott asks. “When the other one surrenders.” You say in a mock evil tone drumming your fingers together, Stiles had rubbed off on you way too much.

“And remember Scott no wolf powers.” You warn and he sighs and nods.

“Ok, let the duel begin!” You yell.

For a while both fidgeted, slowly edging towards eachother. Stiles was the first to launch at Scott, out of nowhere he wacks him on the arm. And then chaos ins-sued. Both boys were stumbling around just barely missing things, it was a miracle nothing was broken. Every now and then one would get a good wack in but it was pretty evenly matched. And it was the most entertaining thing you had ever seen. You were in complete stitches as you watched the two idiots dodge each other and fumble around, of course you were filming all of it.

Eventually you noticed Stiles beginning to tire, and you knew Scott was always going to win. You really didn’t want him to, even though it was all in good fun you knew Stiles always felt so inadequate compared to Scott like ‘the sidekick’. You’d tried convincing him that he was the brains and was like the glue holding everyone together but he had trouble believing it. He needed to win this, and the only way that was going to happen was with your help.

You watch as the boys begin to walk towards you, Scott walking backwards with his back to you. Ever so slightly you subtly stick your boot covered foot behind his ankles and as he took a step he tripped over and landed on his back. Stiles yells in triumph as he knocks his light saber out of his hands and points his own at Scott’s face. “I surrender!” Scott laughs putting his hands up.

You giggle as you watch Stiles face light up in pure joy, how is it possible to be so hot and cute at the same time? You march up to him and grab his face roughly kissing him. You hear his light saber drop to the ground, as he begins to react wrapping his arms around you.

You pull away breathless and he eventually opens his eyes in shock.

“What was that for?” He asks in confusion.

“Well my daring rescuer had to be rewarded.” You smirk and his face lit up in a goofy smile.

“I did what I had to do Princess.” He jokes causing you to giggle.

“Oh Han, kiss me, please kiss me!” You fake gasp dramatically placing your hand on your forehead like in the movies. “With pleasure.” He smirks pulling you closer to him and smashing his lips to yours. You run your hands through his hair as you deepen the kiss, ignoring Scott’s awkward cough.

“Well I’m going to go and get some water.” He mumbles.

You moan lightly as Stiles squeezes your sides gently, as he bites down on your lower lip as you get more and more into the kiss.

“Oh my god you guys are still making out seriously! No get out! Stiles go fulfill your weird Star Wars kink, freaking fantasy shit somewhere else!” You hear Scott groan. Stiles breaks away from the kiss only to scoop you up bridal style causing you to squeal.

“Of course Scott, we’ll just vacate to your front porch and continue to make out there.” He says sending you a wink before carrying you towards the door, the candy and light sabers forgotten. “That’s not what I meant can’t you guys just- And your making out again.” He sighs as he stops at his front door to see Stiles seated on his deck chair with you on his lap kissing.

“Alright I give up, happy Halloween you freaks.” He sighs shutting the door behind him.

Stiles pulls away from your mouth and you whine in annoyance trying to pull his head back down again. “You know I was thinking for next year we could dress up as-”

“Oh my god shut up and kiss me you dork.” You giggle cutting him off and pressing your lips to his again.

Best. Halloween. Ever.

[seventeenbiscuits]

He’s Prettier Than Me! (Jeonghan Imagine)

Word count: 2045

Genre: Fluff

A/N: This reminds me of Legend of the Blue Sea... My mum’s crying about Lee Minho leaving for the army lol.

“AAAAACKK Y/N!!!”

 At the sound of the dreadful screeching, you whip your head around and nearly break your neck from the sheer speed at which you turn. Your grocery bags crash into the coat stand and clatter to the hallway floor.

“YOON JEONGHAN, COME HERE RIGHT NOW,” you shriek, your voice dangerously close to cracking, but you know he isn’t going to move from his cosy spot upstairs.With a defeated huff, you try to put the coat stand upright and pick up your fallen groceries.

The fish that you bought at the market slithers out of the plastic bag, a whiff of fishy smell announcing it’s grand entrance to the outside world. You scrunch up your nose and face palm mentally. More mess.

“How can he be so loud from so far away?” wonders your friend, as she appears at the door with a roller in her fringe and a face mask on, fanning her face like a goddess.

“I don’t even know… why does he have to be so loud?” you sigh, trying to juggle all the fruits which have rolled out of the bag, going on your hands and knees to reach that last apple.

“Oi, Choa, you’re not doing anything helpful by just standing there while your skin recuperates,” you seethe sardonically, dumping your armful of fruit into her arms and picking up the fish with a remorseful sigh.

Why did I have to move into this flat?

When you step into the kitchen, a handsome boy with pretty lips and the eyes of a puppy smiles at you, and your insides wriggle around and your brain melts.

Ah, yes. He’s a good reason.

Choi Seungcheol, the nation's most beautiful person.

“Other than Jeonghan, that is,” you mumble, pausing in the doorway to mentally construct your list of prettier-than-me guys.

You’re so absorbed in your internal list making that you don’t realise Seungcheol is in front of you until he gently takes the grocery bags from your hands and ruffles your hair.

“You’re daydreaming again, Y/N,” he chuckles, taking out the fish and starting to slice it as Y/F/N throws fruits into the fridge. A small blush graces your cheeks, and you look down at your feet. 

“I was?” you reply shyly, trying your best to ignore Choa’s winks and not-so-subtle finger hearts.

He just shoots you a teasing smirk and leaves to call Junhui and Minghao down for dinner.

“Who’s going to get Jeonghan down from upstairs?” asks Choa, peeling off her face mask and patting her glowing, clear, newly rejuvenated skin like a skincare expert.

You both already know the answer, so as you trudge up the stairs of doom and destruction, she goes to get the rest of the girls.“YOON JEONGHAAANNNN,” you shriek, hoping that he hears his impending downfall and comes out of his room grovelling at your feet.

No answer. You stomp your foot on the landing outside his door like an impatient toddler, and forces open his door, ready to burst his eardrums with a lecture on why he should not scream in the house.

I’m such a hypocrite, you shrug, and open the door to find a shirtless Jeonghan sitting peacefully in his bathtub.

“EEEWW WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” you screech, sheltering your poor eyes with your sleeve as you grope around blindly to find something, anything, to cover up your flatmate’s bare body. He just chuckles like its no big deal, and you hear the splash of water and the flop of his fins against the bathtub as you squeeze your eyes shut and hope that he’s covering his upper body with a towel.

“You can open your eyes now, Y/N.” With a tentative peek, you conclude that it is safe to open your eyes and shoot lasers at your best friend/mermaid boy or whatever male mermaids are called.

“Why didn’t you close the bathroom door?? Someone could have found out about your secret,” you hiss, kicking the bedroom door shut as you enter the boy’s little sleeping area. Jeonghan just grins at you and shrugs nonchalantly. 

His shoulder-length hair lies wet on the towel, a beautiful auburn brown against the soft white fluffiness of the towel. With hair like his, its amazing how you haven’t murdered him yet out of jealousy.

“All the guys already know, and it's not like any of the other girls would come into my room anyway,” he says, flicking his tail and splashing water in your direction. 

You crinkle your nose and slap his wet tail with all the strength you have.

“Come downstairs, you ugly fish. It’s time for dinner.”

You leave him some time to change to a human first and go down to help set out the dinner plates. 

Your roommates are all chatting and Sana is throwing grapes into Minghao’s mouth. You slap her hand and make the both of them go sit down at the table.

“Cheol, where’s the sashimi?” you call, serving the salad and sushi that you made in the morning. Jun is lazily stretched over two chairs as usual, and you tell him off like the caring friend you are.

“Yes, Mum…” he groans at you teasingly and sits up properly.

You start to wonder what’s taking Seungcheol so long, so you head to the kitchen just as Jeonghan comes down, still towelling his wet hair.

“Cheollie~” he singsongs, throwing his arms around the older boy. You have to stifle a groan and head back out the dinner table in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” asks Minghao, tilting his head and staring at you with a puppy-like expression on his face. 

Resisting the urge to pat his head, you frown and make a sour expression.

“Jeonghan and Cheol are cuddling again…” you mumble and simultaneously kick Jun and Choa under the table to stop their smirks and teasing.

Sana smiles at you sympathetically and pats your shoulder.You refuse to be comforted, however, and immediately start a rant in a whisper about how Jeonghan always happens to have Seungcheol’s attention. 

“Do you know those memes where Person A and B are under the stars, and A says the stars are beautiful, and B replies with “But you know what else is beautiful?” and B just happens to say Person C’s name? You know those? Yes, well Cheol legit did that just last week. Honestly is Jeonghan really that pretty? This even happened with Joshua, don’t you guys remember? Everyone I like! Why?? And don’t even get me started on how Cheol always blushes and lets Jeonghan call him Cheollie!!” you hiss in a furious voice.

Everyone at the table is smirking now, exchanging silent glances and having noiseless conversations between each other as you fume quietly in your seat.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan finally appear with the sashimi, and dinner starts.

You are quiet throughout the whole meal, continuously stuffing food in your mouth to stop yourself from making a scathing remark towards Jeonghan. He, on the other hand, is happily munching sashimi and cracking jokes. Seungcheol is laughing loudly at his wisecracks, and it just darkens your mood. 

After dinner is finished, you clean up the table and start on the dishes, dimly aware of a nerf gun war happening in the living room. 

Thinking about your Jeonghan-Seungcheol-why-is-my-best-friend-prettier-than-me problem, you turn on the warm water and start washing dishes.

You contemplate your predicament with the air of a person who has hit rock bottom in life and has had too much to drink and get lost among soapy dishes in lukewarm water.

Jeonghan’s stupid little smirk and perfect hair smelling of high-quality shampoo float to the front of your mind, coupled with Seungcheol’s easy smile, leaning against the kitchen counter with his muscular arms folded. 

You absentmindedly stop washing dishes for a while and let thoughts flow into your mind like how the water is flowing out of the tap. The soapy water feels so warm and good against your tired arms, you just let yourself rest there for a while.

All of a sudden, one of your arms knock against the cold water tap, and freezing water bubbles out and overflows the sink, getting water all down your apron and onto your jeans. 

With a start, you wake up to reality, water dribbling down the sink cupboards to the floor. 

You hastily turn off the tap and drain the sink, leaving the wet dishes for Sana to dry. Rolling up your sleeves, you stride out of the kitchen with a purposeful tilt of your head.

You were going to find Yoon Jeonghan.

After getting a tip from a smug looking Jun, you dash outside after grabbing your coat. 

What on earth is he doing out for a walk at a time like this? 

The cool night air brushes your face and plays with your hair, like how Jeonghan would affectionately mess up your hair in a brotherly way. 

You freeze, suddenly aware of your thoughts, which are currently centred around a certain auburn haired mermaid. 

And at once, you are all the more eager to find him.

Where could he be?

Your cheeks are red from running around the neighbourhood trying to find him, and a worrying thought hits you.

What if he went back to the sea?

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to tie your shoelaces, you anxiously fumble with the strings as you bombard yourself with distressing thoughts. Twisting fear sets in your stomach, and you stand up and desperately look around you to spot your red headed merman. 

Didn’t he say he missed home?

A tear slips down your cheek as you imagine life without him. 

We have unfinished business, you think forlornly. 

Suddenly, the creaking of a swing grabs your attention.

Your head whips around at the speed of light, and there you see, swinging his feet, looking miserably downcast, is your Yoon Jeonghan.

“Jeonghan!” you cry in relief, dashing to him. “I need to talk to you!”

He jumps off the swing, startled, and as he leaps up, you can see little white pearls falling off his lap.

“Were you…crying?” you ask, concerned.Jeonghan just kicks the pearls away from himself, looking down at his feet, but you can clearly see his blotchy, puffed face and his red eyes.

“We need to talk,” you say, remembering why you went on a wild goose chase for him in the first place.His eyes meet yours, alarmed, and he holds both hands in front of him in surrender.

“If this is about Cheol, I’m really sorry!” he exclaims.

You frown. “No it's-“

“I’m sorry for Joshua too! I should have been more considerate of your feelings because I was just being jealous and selfish and I’m so sorry I’m too pretty and I don't deserve having you in my life but I do what I do because I-““Jeonghan!”

He pauses mid-sentence, like a deer caught in the headlights. 

You are aware of everything that he just passionately rambled to you, and your cheeks are now not just red because of the cold.

“Keep going.”

He flushes, and awkwardly unties and ties his hair. “I don’t want to.”

You pout and fold your arms, planting your feet firmly on the ground.

 “Y/N, don’t do that face,” he begs.

“Nope. None of us is leaving until you finish your sentence,” you reply defiantly.

With a defeated sigh, he stares intensely at his feet with little strands of auburn hair curling so prettily around his face.

“IthinkI’minlovewithyou.”

“What?”

“Y/N, I think I love you.”

You beam triumphantly at him, folding your arms as you watch him squirm, embarrassed.

“It’s about time. I had to search for you for two hours to confess to you, it’s only right you-“

You are abruptly cut off by him wrapping his arms around you. He smells like shampoo and the sea, and you can hear his heart pounding.

“You’re the best, Y/N.”

Thanks for reading!