#I’m doing a lot of diary comics huh

[puppyeared]

Swapped playlists with a friend and I have normal feelings about it

[teen-cups-au]

Teen Cups - Plot Notes Part 15

Beginning of the comic | Previous | Next

Chalice walks back and sits down on a dock to chill and continue reading the diary.

Diary: Hey Chalice ! It’s been another week... I go to the Casino everyday now.

Close up facing Chalice holding the book and reading it.

Diary: It made me skip school, but I’d rather go play to think of something else, than sitting and not listening to the teachers, because class isn’t stimulating enough for my mind to not think of you non-stop.

She has a sad smile.

Diary: Not that I don’t wanna think of you ! It’s just that I know I can’t work properly anymore, so might as well do something useful.

Flashback of Cuphead going downstairs. Elder Kettle is undusting the kitchen.

Elder Kettle: Ah! You finally woke up! How are you?

Cuphead: I’m going out.

Elder Kettle: Hold on! You didn’t eat anything today! You can’t leave with an empty stomach!

Cuphead: I can’t swallow anything. Bye!

Elder Kettle: Wait! Where are you going? And you didn’t tell me where you were last night!

Cuphead: Hanging out! Taking fresh air!

Elder Kettle: Why did you smell smoke then?

Cuphead: I didn’t.

He leaves the house before Elder Kettle continues. He sees Mugman coming back home from school.

Mugman: Hey!

Cuphead: Hey.

Mugman: Where are you going?

Cuphead: Nowhere.

In the present, Chalice squints eyes.

Diary: I grew fond of poker, and The Devil and King Dice keep complimenting me about how a great player I am. So I’m thinking about doing this to make a living !

Shot of Chalice's crossed feet above the small waves.

Diary: Everybody’s like "It’s sin, not a real job…". But honestly, when you’re into it, you realize that it’s like any other work.

Foreground shows the back of Chalice’s head, the diary apparent behind it.

Diary: You train to become really good at what you do and then make benefits out of it.

Zoom on her eyes.

Diary: It’s a very complicated process, you gotta analyze every single detail. Not only the cards, but also people’s minds by observing their smallest gestures.

Chalice looks up, thinking.

Diary: Chauncey Chantenay helped me a lot for that. He calls this "mentalism".

Chalice: *thinking* Gestures, huh ?

She puts her finger on her mouth, looking straight forward.

Chalice: *thinking* So he didn’t literally read my mind ?

Her pupils move in confusion.

Chalice: *thinking* But I don’t remember moving ?

She looks back down to the diary.

Diary: Back about school, there’s something else that made it way less interesting. Mugman’s condition worsened a while ago…

Chalice looks sad.

Another flashback. Mugman is sitting at his desk in class, next to Sam. He’s resting his head on his hand, looking exhausted, as the teacher is talking.

Lucien: Did anyone have any difficulty with this exercise ? No ? Alright. Mugman, can you tell me what result you found for the first part ?

Mugman’s eyes widen as he straightens nervously on his chair.

Mugman: Uh… I… I’m sorry, I… I had a bad asthma attack yesterday evening and… I…

Lucien: It’s alright, Mugman, don’t worry. Do you need to go home and rest ? You look exhausted.

Mugman: Ah- No ! I’ll be fine, but thanks !

Cuphead: Just say "Yes" ! You couldn’t sleep before 4am because of it !

Lucien: Should I conclude that you were awake that late as well, Cuphead ?

Cuphead: Yeah…

Lucien: You both go to the nurse’s office to call your grandfather then.

Mugman: But-

Cuphead walks behind him and places a hand on his shoulder.

Cuphead: Obey !

Lucien: Actually, go to the principal’s office. And give him this note, please.

He writes on a paper.

In the corridor, Mugman apologizes.

Mugman: I’m sorry I’m ruining your nights…

Cuphead: Hey no ! Don’t worry. It’s not as if I could focus in class, even when wide awake anyways.

Mugman: How so ?

Cuphead: Just… Too many things in mind…

Cuphead then looks at the bent paper the teacher gave them for the director.

Cuphead: Why do ya think we gotta go to the principal?

Mugman: I dunno.

Cuphead opens it to read.

Mugman: Hey, that’s private !

Note: Mugman and Cuphead didn’t get to rest last night again. I think we should talk to Elder Kettle as we thought. *Signature*

They look worryingly at the letter.

Mugman: What does that mean… ?

Later, they’re sitting with Elder Kettle in the principal’s office.

Principal Silverworth: Mugman, it’s been a while I’ve been thinking about a way to help you in your studies with your condition. You might want to start considering being home schooled.

Mugman: Home schooled… ?

Principal Silverworth: Yes. That way, you can follow your lessons at your own rhythm, while getting the rest you need.

Mugman: But I… *cough* *cough* Excuse me- *cough*

Principal Silverworth: It’s okay, take your time.

Mugman: *cough cough* *clears throat* It’s more fun to be with my friends !

Principal Silverworth: I know. But we need to think of what’s best for you. Forcing yourself to make efforts your body can’t handle is probably a bad idea.

Elder Kettle: I think that he’s right, Mugman…

Principal Silverworth: Of course, the decision is yours. But at least, think about it.

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

Hi sweetie here are some q's for your fic author ask game!

3 10 14 17 19 29 30: Is there a fic,written by someone else, that you would love to do a remix of? What is it and why?

:) :) :) :) :) :)

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? "sorry about the blood in your mouth (i wish it was mine)" & "i can't let go when something's broken" are my two favorites :3 (and maybe also the kiki's delivery service au, that one was just so fluffy and cute and sparkly)

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? i'm surprised by how many people really seem to love "when i don't touch you" tbh! the mechanics/worldbuilding is vague at best in my opinion and i leave a lot of stuff ambiguous because i just wanted to tell this story of missing someone and needing them and fate and destiny. i am always surprised & very very grateful for the compliments that fic receives!

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? i wrote "sorry about the blood in your mouth" constantly thinking about how it would look if it was being filmed. that one is my most cinematic, i think!!

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic? the last vcr was sold in 2016 :)

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs. from chapter 2 of "oh my, love is a lie":

Steve taps on the pink highlight around Eddie’s profile picture. It looks like Eddie uses his instagram stories like a diary, posting his various thoughts throughout the day. The first story is a poll: “Would you fuck Jeff Bezos to end global warming?” Steve doesn’t vote. The next three stories are just memes. The next slide is a picture of a bowl of soup with the words “good soup” and after that is a picture of Chrissy’s cat with the caption “this eldritch creature lives in my house.” The last slide shows the results from the original poll, an overwhelming amount of people having apparently voted “no” on Jeff Bezos. Eddie’s added the words “dang, can’t believe how selfish you all are.” That makes Steve laugh, just a little. 

Steve shuts off the screen on his phone and sets it down on his bedside table. He takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes, yawning. Then, he reaches over and turns out his light, before sliding down under his covers and falling asleep.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.) a scene cut from "sorry about the blood in your mouth":

“Max,” Eddie says, cautiously. “Is there something bothering you?” 

“No,” she snaps, still not turning to look at him. She’s torn between wanting him to go away and wanting to tell him exactly what she thinks right now. 

“Max… I know you’re feeling angry right now. Is it because Steve left? I know that you feel better when he’s around and—“

“What, you think Steve is, like, my emotional support dog or something?” She can’t keep the anger out of her voice, even though she’s really trying. “Yes, I love having him around because I love him and he’s one of my best friends. I don’t need him here to do my job. This isn’t Steve’s fault, by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Okay,” Eddie responds and she can hear some confusion in his voice. Max finally turns to look at him and she can see his eyebrows scrunching up as he furrows his brow. She can’t help but wonder how it’s possible for one man to be so deeply and irreparably stupid?

“I’m mad at you, asshole,” she finally admits, jabbing her pointer finger into Eddie’s chest.

“Me? Why?” Eddie rubs at the spot on his chest where she’d just poked him.

“Because!” She throws up her hands. “How is it possible for you to be so fucking stupid? For ten whole years!”

“Huh?” Eddie’s confused frown deepens.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. Who do you think this story is about?”

“The story? Of the movie? Uh. Lucy is you, Max. I wrote her for you.”

“Lucy isn’t me,” she says, like it’s obvious. “I’ve been madly in love with Lucas since I was thirteen and I tell him so every single day. Try again.”

“But—“

“Yeah, but nothing! Eddie, what—if I’m Lucy, who’s Delilah?”

“Lucy is you and Nancy, Delilah’s El and Robin.”

Max snorts. “Okay, that’s a little funny.”

“I thought so.”

“But Lucy isn’t me and Delilah isn’t El. And neither of them are Nancy or Robin.”

“Yes, they are.”

“What—no—Eddie,” he can hear the exasperation in her voice now and now she’s talking with her hands, moving her whole body around like she does when she thinks the person she’s talking to is being a humungous moron. “You’re Lucy. Steve’s Delilah.”

“No,” Eddie says immediately.

“Um, yes! Just like you’re Ricky and Hector and Ronan and Jamie and Peter and Steve’s Brad and Tim and Adam and Martin and Matt.” She lists off the characters from his books.

“What? No.”

“Eddie, you’ve been writing a love story for you and Steve since the beginning,” Max tells him. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one here? Of the two of you?” Under her breath, she adds, “how is Steve the one who’s known all along?”

Eddie’s head snaps up to look at her then. “What.” It’s not a question. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Max says at a normal volume, enunciating, “How is Steve Harrington the one who’s known everything all along?”

“What does that mean?” His voice is getting increasingly desperate, pleading. “Max, what do you mean?”

Max rolls her eyes. “Steve’s been in love with you since you were twenty years old. He’s been waiting for you to figure out your shit. He’s read all your books. He’s watched you date other people and he hasn’t dated anyone. He’s waited for you, Eddie. He’s waited for you to decide what you want.”

Eddie can’t feel his hands. His feet are tingling, like they’ve fallen asleep. He can’t breathe. “He’s been waiting for me?” It comes out as a whisper.

“Yes, but…” Max trails off, looking at him with pity in her eyes. “When he left, I told him to stop waiting. I told him he deserved to be loved by someone who was brave enough to really love him.” He looks at her, an accusation in his brown eyes. “I didn’t think you were actually fucking stupid! I thought you were making a choice. I didn’t realize you really didn’t know that you could have him.” She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t he kiss you at the Golden Globes? And you left with that musician anyway. Even after that, Steve still waited. And didn’t he confess to you three nights ago? Didn’t he tell you what he wanted?” Max kind of looks like she’s on the verge of tears now and Eddie’s pretty close behind her.

30: Is there a fic,written by someone else, that you would love to do a remix of? What is it and why? oooohhhhhh, i don't know! all of my favorite fics are absolutely perfect as they are, but! i've read a kind of bring it on steddie au that i completely lost track of, but i think it would be fun to do like a real, proper bring it on au where eddie joins the team reluctantly and falls in love with head cheerleader steve. hijinks ensue. i can't think of a specific fic that i would remix tho!

thank you <3 :3

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

For dating game: Donna Noble for a non Mash option from something I'm pretty sure I've seen you reblog stuff from, BJ, and Klinger

I can't believe I got 2 Donnas for this game and neither were the MASH one haha. And yes I AM a Doctor Who fan but like with Twin Peaks I'm only a shallow fake one because I only feel really passionate about RTD era :( sowwy again. I'm 0 for 2 today. But at least I didn't skip MASH s1-3 AND I didn't skip the 9th Doctor AND I read Laura's diary + Dale Cooper's tapes. So now everyone has to give me a little headpat and forgive me and say they're not mad at me thank you <3

Donna Noble

I couldn’t handle Donna QwQ I couldn’t match her energy it’s very sad :( I feel like I would do the exact opposite of what the Doctor did for her in terms of bringing out her most amazing qualities. And I do really try to highlight and praise the qualities of people in my life!! I just don’t know if I could help her reach her full potential. Which sounds like one of those weird therapy-talk approaches to relationships but unfortunately sometimes when you really admire someone you actually do start thinking about things like “am I supporting her journey effectively” and all that. But this is just a date right so it can just be a casual thing. I feel like Donna is someone with whom I could straight up be like Hey so I was never socialized properly and your last relationship ended comically terribly so do you want to like try practicing dating with each other? I think it could be fun! And then eventually she could move on to find happiness with Mr. Temple :)  

Wait actually sorry quick tangent if Donna doesn’t remember the Doctor what does she think happened to her fiance from way back when. Does she. Does she remember the giant alien spider or. Hang on--

BJ Hunnicutt

BJ Hunnicutt is the human equivalent of Disneyland. Everybody in the entire nation is absolutely obsessively feral over it it’s sooo beautiful it’s sooo fun you just HAVE to experience it it’s a quintessential expression of the American dream blah blah blah. But I will never attend this overpriced (constantly borrowing money) and overcrowded (too much competition from the rest of Mashblr) theme park. I do not care for its fastpass system (willingness to cheat on his partner) or its uninspiring coaster design (anger issues), and I am further offended to hear of the constant introduction of cost-cutting measures that harm visitor experience (growth of mustache). Not even the prospect of purchasing a fully functioning Cogsworth clock (chance to join the Punnihawk polycule) is enough to tempt me. It’s not happening. I am going to Dollywood (Maxwell Klinger).

Maxie my beautiful girl Maxie whomst is so very adored by me

My wife my kitten my sweet snuggly wuggly good time gal. My Dollywood. Know that I love and adore Maxwell for eternity <3

BUT. I must love her from afar because I couldn’t in good conscience waste her time when I figure there must be a more compatible match out there, ya know? Like, I know hardly anything about baseball and I wear the same clothes every day and I don’t eat red meat so I can’t even share those beloved hotdogs. Max deserves the Best as I’m sure we all agree, and we know he wants a serious long term partnership. I want the same thing, so I know that such a lifelong, committed relationship should be with someone who finds themself more easily compatible with Max’s tastes and interests.  

On an unrelated note, Charles sure seemed to get super into baseball in War For All Seasons, huh? :) And we know he cares a lot about his clothes, as we see him hiring a personal tailor at least once! :) And he was surprisingly eager to get to share in Max’s hotdog delivery in The Grim Reaper, too! :) So many random fun facts in this world \^w^/

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.I) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN : PART ONE 

Summary:  Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, slight angst, f!reader x dad! Iwaizumi 

A/N: There will be 2 or 3 parts of this oneshot! Depending on how long I feel like writing. Thanks for checking it out and stopping by! Let’s dive into some Iwa moments :,)

NEXT PART --> 

---

“What’s your return policy on rings?” 

The saleswoman smiles sympathetically behind the counter. That stupid sympathetic smile he’s been getting for weeks on end now. And it never stops; with his co-workers, with his family, his friends...

Iwaizumi’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to prove that he’s doing just fine, thank you very much. When in truth, his heart is constantly being torn apart and stomped upon as is people have nothing better to do than torture him in their free time. 

“I’m sorry, but these rings have been brought more than three years ago, and our warrant only lasts for three years,” the saleswoman keeps on talking but it doesn’t matter, for Iwaizumi can already feel the anger slowly creep up through the back of his neck, can already feel the vibrating emotions clogging up his sense of judgement. 

His fists clench at his sides upon impulse, the physical pain of his nails driving into his palms enough to remind him to stay cordial. It’s not the woman’s fault, the better part of him chants, it’s not her fault at all. 

“Fine,” he manages to grovel out, barely, “thanks anyway.” 

He all but storms out of the shop while shoving the rectangular box back in his pant pocket, and though it’s been more than four months since his ugly divorce with the woman he’d hoped to share the rest of his life with, the weight of their promise hangs heavy and hot upon his thigh. 

The thing is, Iwaizumi is mad. He is seething. If one were to give him a bat, he’d probably destroy the entire town by himself. Not because she was the one that cheated, not because she was the one going behind his back numerous times a week to seek out her lover when he’d been basically driven mad between Hoisuke’s cries and the stress of call meetings scheduled back to back. 

No, he’s angry. Because how the fuck could she do this to Hoisuke? How can she break the child’s heart like that, so ruthlessly, without even thinking twice about the consequences? 

Because if there is a victim in all this, then it’s definitely Hoisuke. And not only that, Hoisuke understands that his mother has been acting strange, that she doesn’t return at regular times and that her hugs now smell of cigarette smoke with a bittertaste of alcohol. 

Iwaizumi is so caught up in anger that he almost blunders past his battered Hyundai, red and chipping away at the corners. Still, this car holds so many memories, the good and the bad ones. 

“Can’t you get a newer car? I thought your company could sponsor you,” the ghost of his wife’s voice echoes through his head, a blatant reminder of all the things she’d found wrong in his life.

“Why?” he’d tilted his head around to fix his gaze on her figure bending over the sink. The TV was playing in the background and he thanked the gods that the morning comics were taking up Hoisuke’s attention, enough to distract him from his parents’ quibbles. 

“It’s just--so old and tacky.” 

“It still works well, doesn’t it? Why change it now?” 

She’d paused, hesitated slightly before blundering on, “It’s embarrassing. My colleagues keep asking if we're poor or something."

"Who cares what your colleagues think?"

Fuck her, Iwaizumi mentally swears as he turns on the ignition. Fuck her and all her needs for a better life. As if the life they had wasn't more than enough. Pulling out into the street to join the incoming traffic, he blinks away the sudden tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes and swears once more, this time aloud, glad that Hoisuke isn't in his presence when he gets in such a foul mood.

Iwaixumi may be angry. He may be filled with pent-up rage from the memory still attached to the day he'd discovered a used condom in their bathroom trash. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

That doesn't mean he does not still cry into his pillow over it every night.

----

"Please don't forget to do your homework for tomorrow! We'll correct them before moving on to the next chapter," you call out to your students as excited chatter fills the air. Students rise from their seats, some calling you bye and waving as they all file out of the classroom and you can't help the small smile lingering over your lips even though your feet are killing you.

Outside, parents have already lined up to collect their kids, the chatter and bustle of people ebbing away down the corridor as you let out a soft sigh.

"Miss?"

You jolt, not realizing that one of your students stands by the table wringing his hands, "what's wrong Hoisuke? Dad's not here yet?"

He shakes his head, watery eyes blinking up at you as he raises his thumb to his lips. You stand quickly and motion him to come close until he's within reach before your hand smoothes over the back of his head, "it's okay. He's probably stuck in traffic. I'll wait with you."

It's not surprising that parents get tardy once in a while and you're all too accustomed to those slight change in plans. Thankfully, you manage to distract the young boy with some coloured crayons and a piece of paper while you dial for his father's number.

It keeps ringing. No one picks up.

You try once more, one more time after that. But still, nothing. It shifts to voicemail. You decide it's better than nothing, "hi Iwaizumi-san. This is Y/N, Hoisuke's teacher. I was just wondering what time you would be picking up Hoisuke? Please call me as soon as possible. Thank you."

You end the call only to spot Hoisuke's eyes on you, intent and impatient for you to explain, "it's okay," you tell him with a smile, "he'll be here soon. Don't worry. Do you want to keep colouring some more?"

Hoisuke nods, to which your smile widens. It's those special moments, where your shyest students express themselves, that your chest warms with sympathy and affection. You've been there, you know how it feels like not to be heard, and you appreciate every interaction they offer you.

Being a primary school teacher is tough, especially since it wasn't in your original plans. But the satisfaction of bringing up some of the world's future leaders cancelled out all the late nights correcting tests and scrambled weekends trying to finish off as many worksheets as you possibly could for the coming week. You can’t complain, not when you have a decent salary that keeps bread on the table and a roof over your head.

A tug on your sleeve brings you back to Hoisuke looking up at you, a scribbled drawing of what seems to be of him and his dad. You feel yourself chuckling at how he's drawn both their hair in brown spikes, erratically extravagant and yet so close to reality.

"That's really good, Hoisuke!" You beam down at him, "what do you and your dad do on weekends?"

He shrugs shyly, head averted to the side so that there's no need for eye contact. And in the shyest voice he can muster up, he says:

"Daddy brings me...to see Mama," Hoisuke's words are barely above a mumble, "they live in different houses. They can't live together anymore."

Uneasiness squeeses in your stomach, followed by sympathy for this soft-hearted boy. You had overheard some of your colleagues giggling about Hoisuke's dad being attractive and single -- a combo that teachers adore -- but that doesn't mean that the weight of his words don't lay heavy on your own conscience.

"Do you miss your Mama a lot?" You ask him softly. Unconsciously, your hand finds a way to smooth over his head.

The boy doesn't pull away. Instead, he nods, "sometimes. But it is better this way. Daddy smiles more now. And there's no one to shout and make noise."

"Are you happy, Hoisuke? With your dad?"

He nods and to your amazement grins, "daddy is funny. He tells me not to swear but when he burns the food he always swears. And then he says to shush and tells me to close my ears. He also makes me pancakes every Saturday morning before I go see Mama."

Right on cue, a figure bursts through the open classroom door and both your heads snap to see a drenched, older version of Hoisuke who looks like he just finished running a marathon.

"I'm--" he wheezes, causing you to stand in alarm and concern, "I'm sorry I'm--so late--"

"Daddy, you forgot me again!" Comes Hoisuke's statement as you ask Iwaizumi if he's okay. He shakes off your worry with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head, "I'm fine. Sorry-- there's a nasty rain outside--"

"It's okay," you reassure him as Hoisuke practically barrels into his father and almosy knocks him off his feet.

"Sorry Hoisuke," you watch Iwaizumi's hardened features soften ever so slightly as he ruffles his son's hair. Then, looking back up at you as you bring over Hoisuke's backpack, he says, "thank you. For looking after him."

"It's no problem, honestly. We had fun didn't we?" You grin down at your student and are delighted to find Hoisuke grinning back up at you, albeit shyly, "I put his homework in his diary. He'll need to complete it for tomorrow so that he doesn't fall behind in class."

His father nods, "alright. Thanks."

"Daddy, your hair looks atrocious," Hoisuke says, tugging onto his shirt.

"Atrocious huh?" Iwazumi's eyebrow rise, "someone was listening in their English class today."

"Atrocious means that it looks bad. Daddy, your hair looks bad."

"Thanks buddy, I knew that. Now say bye to Miss Y/N."

"Bye bye, miss Y/N," Hoisuke says, wriggling his short arm through the air as you wave back with a giggle. His father nods at you in silent thanks, makes a move to walk out of the class, only to swivel back to you just as you're collecting your bag.

"Uhm," he clears his throat, causing you to jump slightly, "yes?" You blink back at him and try hard not to stare at the way his white shirt clings to his toned chest, translucent from the rain.

"Do you need a ride?"

-----

You've known Iwaizumi since high school. Having graduated just two years later than he did, his reputation had preceded him throughout the school halls even though you'd never actually had any face to face interaction with the said man. Iwaizumi doesn't know this of course and you are adamant about keeping it a secret. But that plan seems to be unraveling before your very eyes the moment your small talk turns towards your academic history.

"You're from Aoba Johsai?" His surprised glance doesn't escape your notice, especially since that's the most reaction you've gotten out of him.

"Yeah," your eyes stay glued to the row of cars crawling through the motorway, "I remember you went there too, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You were Aoba's ace volleyball player. Everyone knew who you were."

His silence answers you and for a moment, you fear that you might have offended him. Not that it's something to be offended about.

Before you try to scratch your brain for some kind of response -- any response -- Hoisuke pipes up from the back seat, "Daddy was famous back when he was in high school. He hit the ball like kapow! And jumped so high he can touch the sky."

"Oh? Have you seen him on camera?" You turn slightly, a small smile dangling off your lips at how adorably amazed and excited Hoisuke seems to be.

"Yeah! His spikes are so awesome! It goes pow! And it zooms! Like a cannon ball!"

You burst out laughing, "yes, your father was amazing whenever he was on the court. Every girl in our class had a crush on him."

"What's a crush?"

"Hmm, you know when you really like someone. You like like them, you want to be together with them. Like, girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh," Hoisuke draws out, "did you really like daddy too?"

"Yeah I did."

"What?" Iwaizumi almost chokes on his own spit at the same time traffic eases and you're glad for the distraction, for you're certain there's a scattering of colour upon your cheeks.

"Do you really like him now?" Hoisuke persists, undoubtly untouched by the embarrassment taking over his father's features and you swear that more than ever, you want to laugh at how flustered Iwaizumi looks.

You decide to play nice though and instead turn to wink at your student, "that's a secret for me to keep."

You don't have to look twice to know that the man beside you is bursting into hot flames.

-----

"Did you really like Mama before you started living separately?"

Iwaizumi swears that he's never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not when he's had to state that he was divorced, not when he had to sign divorce papers half drunk off his ass. Not even when he'd raged after his said ex-wife after finding a tie that wasn't his own in his laundry pile.

Now is probably a good definition of what uncomfortable means.

"You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?" He steals a glance at Hoisuke from over his shoulder while stirring the vegetable curry, "yes, I really liked your mother."

"Did she?"

The word 'yes' almost slips past his mouth. Except, he isn't sure whether that's the truth and decides to shoot back with, "have you finished your homework, Hoisuke? You know it's due tomorrow. Miss Y/N said so."

"Do you really like miss Y/N?"

"What?" Iwaizumi frowns, "well--no. Not like that."

"Why?" His son whines, "I really really like Miss Y/N. She's nice to me and she never shouts. And she bakes good cookies!"

"How'd you know that?" Iwaizumi leans over to taste a bit of the sauce. Not bad, he thinks and mentally pats himself on the back. A few weeks ago, he would've probably burnt the entire house down.

"Because she bakes them every month. Every time we finish a test."

"That's nice of her."

"Yes," there's a pause as the man fishes out a bowl in which to serve the curry, "daddy, what do you do when you really like someone? Do you marry them like you and Mama did?"

"Uh--yeah. Sure."

"Then does that mean I need to marry Miss Y/N if I really like her?"

"Yup."

"Daddy!"

Iwaizumi bursts out laughing. Turning off the stovetop and bringing the bowl over to the dining table, he reaches out to ruffle his son's hair with a grin, "you're the one who has a crush on miss Y/N."

"She's too old for me Daddy," grumbles Hoisuke while scooping out two rice bowls as the pair sit down for dinner, "but she'll be good for you."

"Not that simple, buddy," Iwaizumi says as he dumps two spoonfuls of curry into his son's bowl, before doing the same with his own, "there's a difference between like and love."

A frown falls over his son's face, so like his own that Iwaizumi can't help but chuckle, "what is the difference?"

"Well, when you really like someone, you might want to get to know them better. Or play with them andd shit--stuff like that. When you love someone, it's..." he hesitates, "it's different."

"Why?"

There goes that innocent question that punctures his chesy a little too deeply. The brown-haired man steadies his gaze upon the calendar fixed on the wall opposite him as he answers with:

"When you love someone, you want to live with them. You want to start a family with them. Their happiness," his brown orbs switch back to his son's focused attention, "their happiness is all that matters."

Maybe it's the fact that he's not used to speaking so truthfully about such things. Maybe it's just Hoisuke who suddenly realizes the layers hidden beneath his father's poker-faced exterior. But for a moment, neither of them speak, as if bewitched by a silencing spell if broken by the scraping of cutlery against porcelain.

"Did you love mama?"

Hoisuke's voice is small, fragile. So fragile that Iwaizumi pauses just as his spoon reaches his mouth, glancing over at his boy. His beautiful boy.

"Yeah."

Another short pause. "Did she love me?"

"Of course she did," Iwaizumi's face softens. To be honest, Hoisuke hadn't showed any kind of restraint during the entire divorce procedure, had merely accepted things as they had unfolded before his very eyes. But sometimes, Iwaizumi fears his son might be keeping more from him than he lets on.

He ressembles his mother a lot in that sense.

"Then," wet coffee-coloured eyes blink up at him, lips trembling with a hoarse whisper, "why'd she leave?"

Before his father can say anything, the young boy bursts into tears.

Iwaizumi rushes over, clasping Hoisuke in his embrace as the child buries his face into his neck and cries and cries and cries. His little heart beats like wild horses and with every sob echoing through hid body, Iwaizumi feels his own heart break over and over again. One of his hands rub comforting circles of Hoisuke's back, while the other smoothes over the back of his head as he murmurs soft nothings in hopes that it will calm down the young child.

"I want--" Hoisuke's voice is thick with tears, "I want Mama--"

"Shh, hey it's okay," Iwaizumi murmurs out, "s'alright kiddo. I got you."

Hoisuke falls asleep eventually, the soft sniffles dying out into even breaths as he slumps against his father’s shoulder, probably tired out from his earlier emotions. Iwaizumi takes this as his chance to tuck the boy into bed, glad that he’d listened to the small subconscious in his head telling him that Hoisuke would be falling asleep sooner rather than latter. 

As he smoothes over his son’s hair, a part of him wonders how much Hoisuke is still silently hurting from his mother’s departure. He can’t imagine it; suddenly changing lives like you’ve merely changed your bed sheets and Iwaizumi had been so caught up in his own heartbreak, in his own bout of silent rage, that he’d forgotten that along the way, Hoisuke was also a victim to their endless fighting, the cold war that had broken his family apart. 

He wishes he can take the pain away, ease it somehow. But it’s not that simple. The truth is, no one can actually predict how a heart gets broken, nor when it does. The only evidence are the repurcussions. And it’s only now that Iwaizumi gets to see it truly take its form. 

Leaning over to press a soft kiss to Hoisuke’s forehead, Iwaizumi murmurs his silent goodnight before walking out and gently closing the bedroom door behind him. 

He leans onto the hard wooden surface and rubs his eyes. It is only upon pulling them away that he takes notice of the family photograph hanging on the opposite wall, frozen smiles wrapped up in lies.

He really needs to take that down.

-----

[prettywordsyouleft]

Bloodstone | Part 4

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: none

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Yoongi pulled you aside with a heightened chuckle. “The hell is going on, Y/N?! You’re not just going to accept that this is all from the stone right?”

“Did you not see the glow upon his chest?”

“Yes but that could be multiple things. We don’t know anything about him. He’s spoken nonsense to you so far. Scams these days are getting more cunning, you know.”

“Out of all the people I know, I had pegged you as the guy who was the most open-minded.”

“I read comics written by people’s imagination, not moulded from historical events and far away places that exist outside of our knowledge.”

“Maybe it does exist.”

Yoongi cursed for the second time and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re crazy for being this calm.”

“Call me an idiot but I know that stone in his chest is the one I had within the ring.”

“It’s bigger than it was.”

“Maybe it changes shape out of the ring?” you offered and Yoongi laughed exasperatedly.

“Next thing we’ll be treating him like Ironman who can’t have it extracted or he’ll die.”

“I hope that’s not the case,” you replied solemnly, sighing as you looked back at Namjoon watching the world outside. “I think he’s genuine.”

“What are you expecting me to do then? I don’t even understand a single word he’s saying and yet you’re speaking normally and he’s grasping it well.”

“I think it’s because of the book,” you murmured, leading Yoongi into the study and picking up the text you had left behind earlier. Flipping to the page on the stone, you then held it up for your best friend to see. “At first it was all gibberish to me too, and then it flipped to this page and I could read it all.”

“This looks legit,” Yoongi breathed, taking the book from your grasp. He barely tore his eyes away from it to acknowledge your presence after several minutes of soaking it in. “Where did you get such a book?”

“From my Mum before she got ill.”

“Huh.”

You lost Yoongi to his examination of the page, knowing full well he would now spend some time looking it over.

Going back out to Namjoon, you smiled gently upon joining his side. “Yoongi’s just looking at the book.”

“He won’t be able to understand it. That isn’t a human book.”

“I could though, and I’m human.”

“Are you?”

“Well I’m certainly not from a country far away like you are,” you pointed out and Namjoon grinned slowly.

“Do you think I’ll be able to return to my home?”

“I’d like to hope so. You must feel lost here.”

“It’s interesting too. I have so many questions over what you house in this magical home of yours.”

You laughed then. “Magic? This is just a normal human’s apartment.”

“That houses a lot of ancient otherworldly texts,” Namjoon added on, his brows furrowing together. “Were you born into magic?”

“No, but my Grandmother was.”

“And that of your mother?”

“I believe she possessed some knowledge but I never really knew much about her, to be fair.”

“Why not?”

Moving over to your couch, you sat down with a sad smile. “She never really said much. I just felt she was shy all the time. I could feel her love for me and I never went without, but we just didn’t talk enough.”

“Sounds like my father. He would only speak to me when to warn me of trouble.”

“He seemed to care a lot about you from what I saw earlier.”

“In his own way, I suppose. His heart always felt cold, however.”

“Cold,” you repeated in thought, wondering why that triggered something in your mind. You thought back to the page on the ring. “Does everyone know of the bloodstone where you come from?”

“Only my father told me of it. He seemed frightened of it a great deal.”

“Do you think perhaps he saw it before you had?”

“What do you mean?” Namjoon wondered, and before you could propose your question, Yoongi appeared in the room, holding up another book.

“You seriously need to read this,” he mentioned and you took a look at the journal he handed you, glancing at Namjoon before you turned to the first page.

It was a strange cursive on the page at first when Namjoon peered over your shoulder. He couldn’t understand what you were reading so fervently and Namjoon wondered what Yoongi had said to garner all your attention like this.

Touching the side of the book, Namjoon pouted with his frustration of this land. He didn’t like not knowing anything about your world. He could be enamoured by all your fantastical trinkets but it still didn’t answer anything substantial about this situation the stone had travelled him to.

Namjoon was still none the wiser of why he was chosen by you for the bloodstone either. The book hadn’t explained that process to him upon reading it and he certainly hadn’t proclaimed a desire before seeing the stone to meet it.

Your question about his father returned to the forefront of his thoughts. He definitely seemed to know about its powers. Had there been a time where the stone had seduced him as well? Could his father, who hated humans openly, have travelled here before him?

Feeling his chest and pressing his fingertips into the lodged stone within it, he groaned. “I just wish to understand more.”

“Here,” you said softly, taking his hand with yours and pressed it to the book. “Does that help any?”

The words began to change before his eyes, familiar strokes of characters now apparent on the page. Namjoon looked at you incredulously. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know. I just felt the urge to do something to help you.”

Now reading the diary entry, Namjoon took in the summary of events. The ring had lost its stone and the narrator of this piece was surprised to find a man within her home the next morning when she woke, claiming he was of a different place. The stone had embedded within the man’s hand this time, and as he read on, Namjoon mindlessly rubbed at his clothed chest.

He felt an ache for the man who had been in this position before him.

“I asked of his name and he said it to be Namwoo,” you read out loud, turning to stare at him intently. You could already see the astonishment upon his face. “Namjoon, is that your father’s name?”

“Y-yes.”

“This was dated from over three hundred years ago,” you murmured, looking to Yoongi and then back at Namjoon.

“Before I was born.”

Yoongi, despite not understanding what was being said, produced the page about the ring again. He tapped at the second part and you read it out so he could understand. You paused when you reached the part about a lost love and what it could do to the heart of the divinity.

Taking the journal from your hands, Namjoon flipped through to the last entry, his throat growing dry the longer he read.

His love was too passionate for a mere human such as myself to handle. The stone amplified Namwoo’s feelings to the point they suffocated me. I needed to break free. Despite the trials we had undergone together, I turned a blind eye to that love.

A mere mortal loving an entity should be a sin. My heart was unable to handle his affections and he disappeared from this world.

The ring appeared whole again.

“She broke the Triax,” Namjoon murmured, feeling a sense of grief for his younger father.

“Yoongi found the journal tucked in the book. I don’t know who Eliza is, but I am only guessing this has been passed down through the generations. I’m so sorry.”

“The ring claims it brings forth love, and yet this stone feels as if it causes sorrow. Does this mean that I too will face such a harsh conclusion?”

“We’re not the same as Eliza and Namwoo,” you mentioned, staring at the indent of where the ring must have once sat upon your finger. “For one, we’re not in love.”

“You’re right,” Namjoon pointed out; though this didn’t ease his mind any. He looked at you and then back at the information before him.

Turning back to Yoongi watching on quietly, Namjoon grew hopeful. “He seems to know where to find the next clue already, doesn’t he?”

“Yoongi, do you know what we should look at next?” you asked and the man sighed, disappearing from the room, only to return struggling to carry a stack of books.

Namjoon got up to assist him, his fingers grazing over the other man’s hand in the process.

Much as he had experienced before, Namjoon saw images of his past. Yoongi was always staring at you, and now as adults, Namjoon could sense just how that gaze had changed.

Someone was already in love with you.

_________________

Part 5

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

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[waveridden]

thoughts on every cw show you've watched (a dark history i think we both share)

lily i wish you could hear the noise i just made when i saw this. god. okay. i’m going in approximate chronological order here. also an important piece of context is my mom did not let us watch ~adult tv~ until approximately 2010 so even though i am theoretically old enough to remember, like, one tree hill, i did not watch it.

also i’m putting this under a cut not out of shame but because it’s stupidly long but i’m putting the one everyone wonders about at the top (coincidentally i think it’s also chronologically first)

supernatural: meant a whole awful lot to me when i was a teen! ruby supernatural is how i figured out i like girls! i think i said this at the time but dean/cas canon (or. “canon”) means a lot to me not because i think it’s Good but because it was 14yo me’s wildest dream and i think sometimes our wildest teenage dreams deserve to come true. it’s a shitshow don’t get me wrong but it’s one that wormed its way into my brain and that in some ways i still care a lot about. i think it did a lot for my love of stories about families and about choice and free will like it was definitely formative and i’m cool with that. there are definitely dumber things that were formative for me

arrow: watched s1 while it was airing and i think i watched 3-4 total seasons on netflix. hot fucking garbage show. i think they had some interesting ideas in the early seasons - i like malcolm merlyn as a villain, i LOVE roy harper in this, thea queen is one of my favorite characters ever, there are lots of little things i could be kind about - but oliver is just such an irredeemable fucking bastard that it made the show unwatchable. also they put a jewish woman in a gas chamber, which is something i think we as a society need to talk about more???? in conclusion laurel lance i miss you

smallville: when i was in high school i bought the first season of smallville on dvd. i watched about half of it and never finished it. i do think it’s a fun concept tho and i like that it got to serve as sort of like... a proto legends of tomorrow situation where they could just throw random comics characters at you

the vampire diaries: bonnie was hot. idk i watched half a season and got bored

the flash: i watched the first... three-ish seasons while it was airing i think? i have a lot of fondness bc the flash is my dad’s favorite superhero and i genuinely think s1 is a lot of fun but man it went downhill huh. cisco ramon and iris west i love you and you deserve to be in a better show. also dc adaptations stop just randomly doing flashpoint challenge

izombie: rahul kohli i think of you every day. ravi/major was good. i remember not actually enjoying the first season but still being excited when s2 started and then like... not watching it. wasn’t arthur from merlin in this???

the 100: DEEP BREATHS. OKAY. the 100 was very important to me for a very long time and in some ways it still is because the first long fic i ever actually outlined and completed was for the 100, and that matters to me even though the show no longer does. however jesus christ what a fall from grace. like they even went from typical cw racist to just batshit levels of all the isms and phobias you could think of. i genuinely don’t understand how clexa is still in the public discourse at ALL like i get that fandom is overwhelmingly white and decided that they could look past the brownface but the violent homophobia isn’t great! also lily i know you know this but Justice For Jasper Jordan. that’s all

also i used to play this game in seasons 6-7 where whenever i saw an episode recap i would read it and it made me feel insane. did you know that in season 7 they went to a different planet? everyone was cryogenically frozen for like thirty years except for monty and harper (who had a DAUGHTER) and they went to a new planet. i’m not making this up. literal insanity. i’m foaming at the mouth as we speak

legends of tomorrow: i have seen season one of legends of tomorrow approximately six times. my url is a legends of tomorrow reference. i actually haven’t watched since s3 tho like i didn’t have cable/netflix for a while there and just... never caught up. it is such a perfectly ridiculous show. “we need to go back in time to make george lucas make movies so our historian is inspired by indiana jones!” “what if elvis’s guitar did necromancy?” stop wasting my time with talking and show me 45 minutes of that. lots of insane shit. nate heywood i think of you every day maisie richardson-sellers please call me

supergirl: i watched the pilot (fine) and the musical episode of the flash (honestly? pretty fun) and feel absolutely no desire to watch any more

riverdale: i watched the first season of riverdale and the reason i stopped watching was not related to the show itself, it’s because the roommate i lived with at the time who watched with me started making aggressive comments about the show being reverse racist and i removed myself from the situation. i really really want to watch it but i think you need someone to do it With you instead of doing it alone and tam keeps SAYING NO WHEN I ASK so idk maybe one day

crazy ex girlfriend: i never actually watched this but my roommate did and sometimes i would watch with her. there was a very smug quality to this show that really annoyed me? idk how to explain it. would not watch the whole thing tbqh. music was alright tho. i have referenced this moment in this song in way too many conversations that did not call for it

black lightning: i watched season one while it was airing and it was REALLY well done. i hope the future seasons were also good. anissa/grace fucking ruled we love a lesbian/bi relationship AND an interracial relationship with zero white people in it

also some bonus content for people who actually made it this far:

i have the wikipedia page for the cw open right now and i’m looking at all the kids shows, so i want to throw out there that 1) sonic x is the first fandom i remember being in 2) i watched a LOT of yugioh as a kid and i don’t care what anyone says yugioh gx fucking ruled and so did 5ds they really just went “what if we did it ON MOTORCYCLES” and i respect that 3) i watched the legion of superheroes cartoon with my dad and in retrospect it’s just stunningly fucking ugly but i loved it a lot when i was a kid

[hideandseaking]

Quick Info on this blog:

Was Taylor Swift actually almost your aunt? Yes! My grandma dated her dad a long time ago. My dad was a young adult when it happened and would steal his beer and ride his horses while drunk. My cousin also went to Girl Scouts with Taylor Swift. Obviously, they’re not together now so she never actually became my aunt. But it’s a great icebreaker, huh?

Are you really an attorney? Unfortunately, I did make the poor financial decision to become an attorney. Specifically, I’m a criminal attorney in Pennsylvania so please don’t ask me for legal advice especially outside of Pennsylvania.

LGBTQ+ info? I’m bisexual, but I’ll use pansexual as well because they both apply to me. I have no preference on gender so please don’t try to sway me. I’m non-binary, so any pronouns are good for me. I have no preference. None. Yes, I’m sure. She/her is the safest since I use it the most out of habit and also subscribe to it monthly, but really he/him and they/them are also great. I get euphoria when my parents use he/him on me. Really, I’m good. And no, I don’t experience gender dysphoria.

You have ADHD? Yes, specifically the hyperactivity sect of ADHD, and I’m medicated! I’ve had signs of it since I was very small but didn’t realize I had it until I went to law school. I’m so much happier with my medication. And I keep lots of journals and diaries now so you’ll probably see me mention those as well. I’m a big advocate of medication for mental illnesses because of how much it’s changed my life.

Am I someone who will enjoy you blog? I don’t like TERFs, pedophiles, or really anyone who is godawful to other people. Racists, transphobes, homophobes, and really anyone who supports bigoted views isn’t gonna have a good time here. Also if you’re against therapy, healthy coping, and medication to help mental illness then you’re not gonna have a good time. If you’re someone who doesn’t own up to your actions and harms people while preaching you’re good... you guessed it! You won’t have a good time. I’m vocal and I stand up for those who get harmed so I’m not gonna argue with you about these views.

Why are some of your tags weird? To help me remember my tags tbh. Food is #monch cronch. Naruto is #if you believe it. Just stuff like that but sometimes they’re normal like humorous stuff being tagged as #funny. I also tag triggers that I catch with #tw [insert trigger here]. If you want me to tag something please ask. I also don’t reblog nsfw unless it’s funny.

Why do you typo so much if you’re an attorney? Admittedly, I use my phone more often than not for this website. There’s no autocorrect in the tags, so I end up typoing constantly. I try to fix it if the meaning is completely lost but a lot of the time I’ll let it be. It’s just how it is here, sorry!!

Why do you have so many interests and hobbies? God gifted me with incredible intelligence and an incredible penchant for wanting to do everything possible. I’m ambitious and determined and an achiever. So naturally I’m drawn to anything that interests me. If you want a more focused blog, this isn’t for you.

I knew you/used to read your comic/always wanted to be friends! Can I message you? Yes, I don’t bite!! I’m also a way different person than I was even a year ago, so if you knew me as one person long ago just know that it might’ve changed. I love talking to people and reconnecting and getting to know others so don’t be shy!!

Where else can I find you on the internet? https://linktr.ee/nikkydash

[kenkamishiro]

zakki:re Q&A replies megathread

A translation megathread of the zakki:re Q&A contest letters Ishida sent back to winning contestants!

As far as I know there were 100 winners, though I only have around 40 in this post. There were more on Twitter, but some opted not to release them publicly on Twitter for personal reasons (such as if they asked personal questions). Some didn’t reveal their question, or all of Ishida’s replies, but I’ve tried my best to guess at their meaning if possible.

The ones I’ll post here are from Twitter, specifically if they came with pictures of Ishida’s art or handwritten replies. I’ll also mention some context if I felt that the conversation/topic between the OPs and Ishida was interesting.

If you see one that I missed, please let me know and I’ll update this post.

Enjoy!

-----

From songbirdfaraway (X):

No question or answer revealed. OP mentioned that since they drew Touka and Kaneki on the postcard they sent Ishida, that Ishida must have figured OP liked them and drew them in his reply.

From mochi_XIII13 (X):

A huge Juuzou fan. OP stated they asked something they’ve always wanted to know from the bottom of their heart for ages, and that they couldn’t stop crying when they got the answer from Ishida. (No question or answer revealed.)

From __rsks__ (X):

OP must have asked how Naki proposed to Miza, because:

Naki: (Oh yeah!) Dunno what kinda pose a “pro-pose-al” is, but I said we gotta be together ‘til we die!!

Miza: You didn’t need to mention that!

From choco__morinaga (X):

The answer was hidden because OP wasn’t sure whether Ishida minded if it was shared publicly since the info he gave in the answer wasn’t mentioned before. Ishida said it was okay to share, but I can’t seem to find OP tweeting anything about what the question and answer was.

Uta: It’s a secret. Just kidding.

From SatoshigeKiya (X):

OP mentioned they sent in a question that didn’t have anything to do with TG, and Ishida’s response:

Soba.

From 00ibushigin00 (X):

No question shown.

Ishida: Correct.

From tsukihoryst (X):

OP asked for Chie’s biography (one of two, actually!).

Hori Chie Birthday: September 30th 136 cm / 33 kg / 21.5 cm Currently on break from university. (Voluntarily on leave.) Hobbies: photography, travelling, going for walks, enjoying drama

Tsukiyama: Little mouse, what are you doing? Chie: I got asked a question.

From Hosaka_0405 (X):

Seems like it was a personal question, so I won’t translate.

From take2129 (X):

OP asked if Aunt Satou, Takizawa’s neighbour who was mentioned in his will, was killed by Ayato? But Ishida stated that it wasn’t Ayato who killed her, just some random ghoul.

From reirei_reina_ (X):

OP was so happy they got a nosebleed LOL. Not exactly sure what they asked.

Ishida: It’s great that I can know about the people who have been reading the series for a long time in this manner.

Touka: Thanks!

From cmnme17 (X):

OP’s question: Please give us more details about Hairu’s hairstyle!

Side: (fluffy bangs) Hairu: Hm...more details…?

Front: Long straight across.

Back: Looks like this from behind.

From go_t35 (X):

Seems like OP asked about the name of a fan club for Ishida based on another tweet of theirs (X)?

Ishida’s attempts: Ishida Club, The 9th Laboratory, Us [Oretachi], We [Wareware], umm? Muscle Lover’S [Kinniku Daisuki’S]. Please tell me of a good one you came up with.

(This is Tsukiyama-level naming lol)

OP later replies to Ishida, saying they were thinking of Sui Sui Club (“club” in kanji).

From 4njo_Usa (X):

OP’s question unknown.

Ishida: No matter how hard things get, don’t forget your goals.

From mishumi_jugem (X):

This OP also asked for Chie’s biography. Similar to the first one, except that she has blood type O.

Chie: Me? I guess I also like seeing drama.

From ChirolMaronLevi (X):

The question wasn’t sent by OP, but by his father. Both father and son are fans of TG (OP grew up reading Jump comics since the father reads them a lot), which amused Ishida greatly. OP is jealous, and his father is smug/happy about it lol (there’s a photo of him holding the zakki:re letter with a glove, with the letter itself wrapped in plastic, with a giant smile on his face).

Also a bit sadder to mention, but OP’s maternal uncle passed away from esophageal cancer. Hearing that his son (so OP’s cousin) has all the TG volumes, OP borrowed the letter from his dad to show to his cousin, which made the cousin happy.

Ishida: Isn't something like that decided at the very end? You're admirable. Please do your best to stay till the end.

From inou_uoni (X):

OP’s question: This is related to Tokyo Ghoul:re. Ihei Hairu has pink hair, but why did you make her hair colour stand out from everyone else’s?

Hairu: Cause I’m cute, of course?

From 3110_mai (X):

OP asked some question about Urie, and the reply:

Urie: Why indeed.

OP is really amused Urie doesn’t know the answer, and it might even be possible that even Ishida himself doesn’t know.

From GW3Q1od9vzXccOM (X):

Funny enough, the preview of the postcards Ishida tweeted shows more of this illustration. (I’m planning on also translating those postcards that weren’t posted by their owners at the end). But it seems OP was concerned about Ui’s smoking habits, because:

Ui: It’s fine, I’ve got strong lungs.

From paralysis_2626 (X):

Seems like OP asked where Furuta’s pseudonym “PG” when he was masquerading as Souta came from. This is what I could salvage based on OP’s multiple photos:

Furuta: Eh, what “PG” stands for? Huuh, is that what you’re asking…? What to do...hmm, alright, this is just between us, but the truth is...PG is [redacted by OP]. What!! Just kidding~ Actually, [mostly redacted, I can make out the parts where OP didn’t blur the text in another image, something about eating bulgogi]. Ahaha!

This is just my personal guess, so take it with a grain of salt. But:

Bulgogi = プルコギ = purukogi = PurukoGi = PG…

OP did mention they were going to get bulgogi after this, so chances of this being right are pretty high lol.

From ute9pmr1 (X):

I think OP asked about what animal Ishida would want to become to relax (for example, OP wants to become a sea creature became they’re drawn to the ocean).

Ishida: If I’m given time to relax someday...I’d keep working as a human. I don’t really want to become an animal…

Ishida later adds in a tweet it’s more fun being a human.

From hare__1127 (X):

OP got back a Houji from Ishida when they asked about hojicha (roasted green tea).

Above Houji’s head: It smells nice. Next to Houji: This is Houji-san.

From re_cord01 (X):

OP was debating whether they should keep it to themselves, but decided it’d be better for them to share so everyone can see (thank you OP, this is personally my favourite reply I’ve seen).

OP’s question: What is Kaneki-kun's life like now? (something small like a simple diary entry...)

Month X Day X

I wake up to the sounds of Touka-chan and Ichika's voices. For some reason, they're excited over some news on TV. I read through the documents related to Countermeasures [most likely something to do with the United Front] , and summarize my opinion on it until noon. Time for lunch. Since Touka-chan went out to the shop, I make lunch for Ichika using the rice I bought. "It tastes better than Mama's," she said, so I replied, "Keep that a secret from Mama." In the afternoon, I think I'll take a short walk with Ichika, and try visiting Anteiku with her.

From Nia__86 (X):

Question or answer unknown.

From OKASHI_monster (X):

Question unknown.

I wasn't prepared at all... If I think about this and that it makes me think, "Ah, I don't wanna do this," so there's times where it's easier not to think about it. It may have been better if I had a "there's all kinds of things huh..." kind of resolve.

From utahira_flour (X):

Question and the full answer unknown. (The postcard on the left is just OP’s message to Ishida about Uta and Hirako).

Uta: Try it out?

From gongon0514 (X):

OP’s question: What is the name of Hirako Take’s Shiba Inu?

Ishida: Kotarou.

From S8OkMMRsYsB7H8i (X):

OP’s fiancee got the reply from Ishida!

OP’s fiancee’s question: Why does Takizawa, when he became a ghoul, begin to hold his fingers in his mouth?

Ishida: Like infants, the reasons can include stress, and suppressing his appetite.

I actually can’t find the OP for some reason, so if anyone finds it, please let me know!

Based on Ishida’s preview of the postcards, it seems like OP asked how Hirako felt when he first got his dog.

Ishida: Something like this. Hirako: …(it’s a dog)

From tacto_0 (X):

Seems the question was personal, and I can only make out something about how once you’re satisfied it will end there.

The reason the mask is in the picture is because OP asked Ishida advice about making Kaneki’s mask a few years back.

From secret_fairys (X):

The first reply that Ishida worked on.

Ishida: I like guys that can win with a hard blow. The weapon is a two-handed sword. Dialogue bubble: I will cut you down.

From kuranosukezemi (X):

I can’t say what Ishida replied to OP since the revealed text doesn’t really say anything substantial, but seems like OP asked something related to the final chapter based on their tweet.

From @S_R_Snow (X):

OP must have asked what Touka named her keychain lol.

Touka: No...since I’m not the kind to name things… Yoriko: She called it Usakichi!

From @rio_080910 (X):

I have no clue what OP asked so the reply doesn’t really make sense. Basically if Ishida has tried doing something.

I never thought about it during serialization. But since it ended, I’m thinking it’d be good to try that kind of thing.

From @Utinni_jawamori (X):

OP seems to have asked a Star Wars-related question since Ishida drew Darth Maul.

Why of course...here. But I also like Count Dooku. Exar Kun symbol.

From @ume__oni (X):

Ishida’s reply was covered up by OP, but OP mentioned in their tweet how they named the onigiri Ishida drew “SSR onigiri”, and that they were thankful for receiving a reply despite their silly question.

Ishida replied to their tweet, and it seems like the question OP asked was about his favourite kind of rice or onigiri since Ishida mentioned something about koshihikari, a type of rice.

From bobriorio (X):

OP’s question: Is there a specific character’s expression that makes you go, “Drawing this face is fun, I love it!”?

Ishida: Something like this broken-looking face, for a lot of reasons…

From nato_noir (X):

OP didn’t mention what question they asked, but probably had something to do with the species of butterfly that appears throughout TG. They also mentioned they started reading TG in 1st grade of junior high, since Ishida addresses that in his reply.

From 1st grade of junior high! I'm happy to hear that. It may look like a "butterfly", but specifically it's a moth called a mock swallowtail butterfly moth. I drew it to symbolize the difference between humans and ghouls even though they look similar.

From Fyt120 (X):

Question is unknown.

Ishida/Matsuri: Even if it cannot be reached, it will be in your thoughts for eternity.

(Why do I get the feeling he’s talking about Urie lol)

From pencil_15 (X):

OP asked about Tatara’s biography.

Now published...!

Tatara (Zhū Lú) [朱鑪, 朱 means 'red' and 鑪 is fireplace, the kanji for Tatara] 186 cm / 96 kg Blood type A Hobbies: Go (taught by his older brother), reading (Takatsuki Sen)

From hachiyone_arai (X):

If you can't stop thinking about the person even though you know it will never happen, that is love. ...according to Matsuri. (I love Urie too.) Urie: No.

From nanasiFAST (X):

Miza: Hm...me? I don’t really rank the things I love.

From Ishida’s preview (X):

Top right - Saiko: Kah!

Bottom right - Maid.

Top left - Nakarai: Recently, Japanese waxwings, I think. (has a rock look to it)

Bottom left - Ichika comic: (you can read here)

I’ll just summarize what I can figure out here since so much of it is concealed.

Higemaru - I think OP asked about how Higemaru ended up working for the CCG because it talks about his history at the Academy and the Qs. Also that Hige really looks up to Urie and wants to keep working with him.

Akira - I think OP asked for advice on dealing with the difficulties with their transfer family, because Ishida suggests using phrases such as, “I see...” or “That’s why~!”. (The alternative is Akira giving Inoue-san (from the transfer family) a Mado Punch lol)

Uta - A personal question, in which Ishida mentioned something about how if OP realized they messed up, and doing what OP needs to do.

Letter below Ui’s - Hide in :re volume 14, huh~ Kaneki also lost his way in OG volume 7 and :re volume 16. [Something about other guys like Naki, and something about how deciding the most important thing is difficult]

-----

The end! If there’s any other replies from Ishida that you didn’t see here, please let me know!

[mit3c]

Forgive me for this, but what are your thoughts about Donald/Daisy? My knowledge of Disney only extends to KH, both versions of Ducktales, and Three Caballeros, so I don’t recognize 98% of the duck characters. I don’t know how to obtain the Duck comics in the States in English, though I’ve always wanted to read them.

what is there to forgive haha?

oops i wrote so much. read more

daisy huh... my opinions of her vary from “sure” to “ew” I guess. it largely depends on the source material... I feel in KH she is such a non character... even more so than usual. well in KH female characters tend to not be written great and Minnie and Daisy are really shoved to the side to the point it’s not even bad writing it’s no writing at all ??? like she is never seen interacting with Donald apart from uh I think the end of KH1 where she threatens and chase him? which is. yeah sure

iirc she didn’t show up in og DT... new DT is a very superficial attempt at “fixing” her but no matter how well-intentioned the writers are, inserting Daisy so late into the story AND as Donald’s love interest is not great and that fixing attempt is bound to fail I think. I have a lot of thoughts about that episode and I’m not going to go into details unprompted (literally WHO wants my ducktales rants?) but it sure makes me smile seeing people going HEALTHY DONDAISY!!! DAISY IS FIXED!!! XD uwu lol.. but future will tell...... maybe my speculations will be wrong and I sincerely hope they are. but yeah as of now there isn’t much material about them and I don’t like what we got so far

in lot3c dondaisy is a central part of the story and hm. I wouldn’t mind Daisy being an obstacle to donald/straight up antagonistic if this didn’t fit in a misogynistic tradition of the Nagging Girlfriend Trope and I think a lot of writers can’t imagine a Daisy who isn’t that, sadly. It’s a shame especially in the Donald Duck’s Found Family Go On Funny Adventures All Around The (Supernatural) World show... I think Donald being torn between a trivial, normal, quiet lifestyle and an adventurous thrilling one is nothing new and it’s a theme that shows up in a lot of others media, be it comics or animation (It’s a running gag in Mickey Mouse2013 and Ducktales2017 deals with this horribly, but it’s really a long time thing in comic books too), and I usually like it! but instead of being an internal conflict, in LOT3C it’s symbolized by Daisy who works as an anchor into the “real world” and keeps pulling Donald back to it when frankly I’d rather see him (even begrudgingly) adventuring with his amigos. And I don’t mean that as a dumb “grrr daisy in the way of my cabs shipping” way, because I do think Xandra and April/May/June have great chemistry with Donald... if Daisy is an anchor into the real world, I believe AMJ is more of a bridge between reality and fantasy, and as such they are a lot more fun and a lot less frustrating. I do think you could have the whole thing with Donald having one foot into reality and one foot into the supernatural just in his relationship with Xandra. In short I think it’s def a case of writers wanting or having to put Daisy in but not being able to write her beyond being Donald’s annoying girlfriend and it’s a shame.

And if you think about it, if you remove Daisy’s Annoying Girlfriend status, literally who is she? She’s a character that  was initially written as a prize for Donald to win ; initially it’s the nephews who gets in his way, then Daisy herself, then Gladstone, etc etc. It has been a long tradition both in comics and animations for decades and no one up until recently bothered to give her something else. Historically there have been attempts but they are inconsistent, loosely defined, and most importantly always relate to being THE GIRL. She writes a diary that chronicles her Woman Problems such as her boyfriend being too ugly so she’s ashamed to go out with him ; or being jealous and petty about her female friends, etc... she has her friends over at the Women Club which is sometimes a charity, sometimes a feminist club, and most of the time a place where they throw girly parties where Donald has to be dragged in against his will... she has a superhero identity that revolves around “being a feminist” but really is about SHOWING THE DUDES WHO’S THE MOST CAPABLE SEX, and all in all her gags revolve around “haha women are so ridiculous” and “marriage is a prison”  So yeah, for a long time Daisy was built as a character that is just one misogynistic trope after the other and don’t have much of a direction, but also she’s historically known as Donald’s Girlfriend so somehow she has to be with him by mandate and my impression is that most writers are stuck with her and have no idea what to do with her... she has no life outside of Donald or any main character really so if she were to break up with him she’d have no reason to hang out with any of them. She could end up with Gladstone? but what even is the Daisy/Gladstone relationship in itself if it doesn’t revolve around Donald? Literally every other female characters have goals and something for themselves...Grandma has her farm and is a caring, support character for about everyone ; Brigitta is a skilled businesswoman who wants to end up with Scrooge ; Dickie is a teen and a reporter, etc etc. Daisy is Donald’s girlfriend and she makes his life harder. ok, which is a goal I guess ! but not a great one for a character sold as one of the Good Ones... and modern stories making her sweeter to Donald make for cute panels but it’s just removing one of her traits without giving her any new ones...

What’s sad is that in more modern times there have BEEN attempts at fleshing out Daisy- she’s a novelist, she’s a reporter, she works for Scrooge, she’s into fashion, she has AMJ, etc. Some writers are well aware of the Daisy Problem and it’s even adressed...

(blessed lars jensen)

...so there is that conscious effort to flesh her out, but these efforts are so far too isolated and nothing tends to stick out much... and I mean, it’s difficult to almost completely rewrite a character when she has decades of history behind her already. But the efforts are here and I salute them... even though there are more or less well executed..I like MM13′s Daisy for her strong personality and her working independently from Donald - I think having her do stuff with Minnie, Clarabelle, and even being friends with Mickey etc helps a LOT (though this series is not free from Donald feeling stuck in his relationship with Daisy.. but it’s still miles better imo than their usual portrayal) 

so yeah I know that ask was originally about DonDaisy only but I think in order to know how I feel about them it’s.. good to know about how I feel about Daisy lol. In general I think they are stuck together by mandate when Daisy doesn’t have much to offer to Donald beyond Pain and Donald has better chemistry with literally. every other character ever. sorry if you didn’t ask about this wall of text lol but if you don’t know much about Daisy I guess here’s an overview of the character...

oh also. Daisy and Donald are cute in the parks. Daisy is that attention loving diva and Donald just fawns over her it’s really cute... her being fashion buddies with Minnie is cute.. nghnng though female characters being linked to fashion is.. sigh I will not go into another rambling I save this for another ask lol

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

sour undertones - klaine oneshot

AN: this work is based off of a piece of fanart by animateglee

words: 1723

summary: Kurt finds Blaine’s diary and is surprised at what he finds there. Blaine thought it was good at the time, I mean, he got an A in creative writing from Miss Eavesbridge once! (quarantine fic)

The days have been long for the both of them, and it’s not like he was snooping, really, he wasn’t. He was bored. 

Ever since the lockdown had started in New York, Kurt felt like he was going to go mad. His apartment with Blaine was only small (despite their success and newfound fame, prices to live in the city were still ridiculously high) and there was only so much they could do in such a tiny space. After multiple different jigsaw puzzles and games of monopoly and other miscellaneous things that didn’t involve sitting around and scrolling through Instagram, he was starting to go a little bit crazy.

It was also hard for them - they were different types of people; Kurt was an extrovert… and well, Blaine… not so much. For Blaine, it was much easier; he would happily sit around at home all day keeping himself busy doing nothing much at all. 

But Kurt, he thrived on socialisation, on meeting new people, new faces and interesting personalities. He was growing tired. So he wasn’t surprised when he found himself searching through the shelves and bits of storage in their tiny home, not really knowing what he was looking for. 

He found lots of old things knocking around in their draws - a photo album of their first year together as a couple, and smiled as he looked through the miscellaneous memories that had been captured and saved, something to hold onto for all their lives. The receipt from their one of their many dates, a recipe book Kurt had given to Blaine one year for his birthday in their old loft in Bushwick, and Kurt was a little offended to find it hidden away in a random draw next to their bed, but then he decided to search some more. 

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it before, but it was a beautiful thing, a notebook with a leather covering and writing on the front, stuck on with different clippings of letters from headlines of newspapers, and Kurt laughed to himself as it reminded him of The Burn Book from Mean Girls. A guilty pleasure of his, if he was being honest. 

However, this expression changed as he opened the notebook. He saw on the very first page, ‘property of Blaine Devon Anderson’ scribbled messily onto the parchment. Around it was lots of different doodles and hearts and other little drawings that made Kurt smile. Then he turned the page, realising what he was actually looking at. 

15th March 2011

Dear Diary, 

Kurt’s eyes widened as he recognised the date. That date was special to them. He recognised it, even more so, when he read the words ‘I kissed Kurt today!’ in big, capital letters, confirming why it was so special to them. That was when he burst out laughing, deciding to read on. Half of him felt bad for reading through his husband’s diary from nine years ago, but dammit - they were husbands! It was healthy to have some secrets in a relationship, he thought. Reading again, a big smile lit up his face.

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now. I’ve been so oblivious all this time, and only now I’ve realised how much I appreciate him. I can’t believe that this might turn into a real thing soon! And hopefully, his feelings are the same. I mean, they would be, wouldn’t they? He did kiss me back. Twice. Anyway, I think I love him. He’s beautiful, and his eyes are so blue… 

Kurt was aware that his face was probably lit up like a Christmas tree, but he didn’t care. His now-husband had written about him in his diary on the day of their first kiss. He was allowed to be happy. 

“Kurt?” 

It was only then that Kurt closed the notebook abruptly, jumping up from where he was sat on the floor against the bed, dumping it on the floor and turning to face Blaine, who had now walked into the room. 

“What are you doing?” 

Oh god. Kurt looked suspicious. He was fully aware of that. He was trying to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers (even if they weren’t allowed outside, didn’t mean his fashion game was going to falter) and his eyebrows were raised up far too high as he tried to keep a sense of nonchalance about his aura but failing. 

“Nothing, sweetheart.” He smiled. The tension in the room was suffocating. He shouldn’t have been nervous, really, he shouldn’t have, but Blaine was standing there looking very worried and curious and Kurt wasn’t ready for whatever would happen next. 

Blaine frowned, moving closer to Kurt. 

“You’re acting weird. What’s going—” 

He paused as he realised the notebook on the floor. He looked at it, sitting there, then back at his husband, whose eyes were now comically wide, and they stared at each other incredulously. 

“Kurt, I swear to fucking god—” 

Kurt broke the tension by letting out a giggle, deciding teasing was the best way to go about this situation. He bent down and picked up the notebook from the floor, and continued to read the page he’d been reading, but out loud to Blaine this time. 

“So, my soft but scratchy lips tasted exquisite… the sweet flavour of starburst fruit gums but also the sour undertones of orange juice, along with the sweet promise of love?” He burst out laughing. Blaine scrambled towards him, trying to snatch his old diary out of Kurt’s hands. 

“Kurt! Give that back!”

“Why… are you talking… about our first kiss… like it’s a fucking Michelin star meal?”  Kurt marvelled, between fits of laughter. Blaine was trying to grab the notebook but Kurt made sure to keep a hand on his chest, preventing him from stealing it back.  

“Kurt… please! I was excited!” Blaine shouted, exasperated. 

That only made Kurt laugh harder, running away from Blaine who was now getting closer to stealing the diary back, so he jumped up on the bed.

“No! I have a right!” He screamed, jumping down from the bed and now running around the apartment, trying to find another excruciatingly cringe-worthy piece of writing to read out to his very embarrassed husband. 

“When we pulled back, I stared into his piercing blue orbs… what the fuck are orbs?” He joked, collapsing onto their couch, reading some more, “and I was so dazed, the only thing going on in my mind was Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, then he said, in the softest, most beguiling voice—” he broke off his reading again, trying to understand Blaine’s writing, “sorry… Blaine? Why are you using such descriptive words? This sounds like a fucking fanfiction!” He laughed, then continuing, “he said we should practice,” he raised his eyebrows as he noticed Blaine was watching him at the end of the couch with an exaggerated pout on his face. 

You’re so mean,” Blaine whined, he fucking whined, and that was when Kurt started to feel bad. 

  “Honey, I’m sorry,” He apologized, “but you’ve gotta admit, it is pretty funny.”  

  “You’re making fun of my sixteen-year-old self’s writing skills,” Blaine said, the pout on his face still prominent, “Miss Eavesbridge gave me an A for creative writing in English at Dalton once!” He said, referencing their Eleventh Grade English teacher.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry for making fun of your creative writing skills,” Kurt laughed, affectionately, pulling Blaine onto the couch from where he was sitting, untangling his folded arms. “Although I don’t think this would be creative writing since it actually happened.” He cross-examined, stroking his hands through his husband’s hair. He was so grateful that Blaine had loosened up on the gel now, moving away from the brick-like hair he had five years ago. He loved stroking Blaine’s hair.

Blaine groaned in annoyance at Kurt’s display of his pedantic trait but obviously appreciated the attention, nestling his head into Kurt’s neck, wrapping his arms around his husband. 

“You’ve embarrassed me.” 

“That’s what marriage is for!” 

"Rude.”

“You’re cute.” 

Blaine looked up at Kurt then, lifting his torso so he was fully on top of his husband, holding himself up by his hands. “I can’t believe you found my old diary. Although I am sorry that I described our first kiss like a Michelin star meal. It’s just— it was special, you know? And I wanted to remember every bit of it.” 

Kurt’s face was glowing. He was so in love with Blaine, every day his love grew stronger. As he looked into his hazel (Kurt laughed to himself as he thought of the word orbs) eyes, he wondered how he had become so lucky. 

“It was special. Do you want to recreate it?” He replied.

Blaine hummed appreciatively, “mmm. Sounds like a good idea,” and leaned in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, Kurt’s hand cupping Blaine’s cheek, eyes closed. 

When they broke apart, they stared at each other for a while, when Kurt mumbled, obviously quite dazed, “Any sour undertones of orange there?”

Blaine groaned, dropping his head back down onto Kurt’s shoulder, “That honestly sounds so fucking disgusting. I can’t believe I ever wrote that.” 

“Well, actually, you said you wanted to remember every moment of our first kiss, but you actually got a bit of it wrong in your writing.” Kurt acknowledged, picking up Blaine’s old diary again, “you see, here you wrote that I said we should practice, but I actually remember quite clearly that you said that.”

Blaine frowned at this, grabbing the diary out of Kurt’s hands, reading out loud where he had written that. 

“he said, in the softest, most beguiling voice, we should practice. Huh. I did get that wrong. Guess my mind was so dazed all I could think about was Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.” Blaine said, quoting his diary entry. 

Kurt burst out laughing at that, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck, pulling him in for a short kiss once again. “You’re such a dork.” 

“But you love me anyway.” Blaine smiled.

“Of course I do. And I know you love me too.” Kurt replied, pressing their lips together again. He loved his beautiful, ‘I-got-an-A-in-creative-writing’, beguiling husband. And he wasn’t going to see the end of this story in a very, very long time.

AO3 link

[theyaskedmeto]

sour undertones - klaine oneshot

read at ao3

words: 1723

AN: this was inspired by a piece of fanart by animateglee, go check it out!

summary: Kurt finds Blaine's diary and is surprised at what he finds there. Blaine thought it was good at the time, I mean, he got an A in creative writing from Miss Eavesbridge once!

*

The days have been long for the both of them, and it’s not like he was snooping, really, he wasn’t. He was bored. 

Ever since the lockdown had started in New York, Kurt felt like he was going to go mad. His apartment with Blaine was only small (despite their success and newfound fame, prices to live in the city were still ridiculously high) and there was only so much they could do in such a tiny space. After multiple different jigsaw puzzles and games of monopoly and other miscellaneous things that didn’t involve sitting around and scrolling through Instagram, he was starting to go a little bit crazy.

It was also hard for them - they were different types of people; Kurt was an extrovert… and well, Blaine… not so much. For Blaine, it was much easier; he would happily sit around at home all day keeping himself busy doing nothing much at all. 

But Kurt, he thrived on socialisation, on meeting new people, new faces and interesting personalities. He was growing tired. So he wasn’t surprised when he found himself searching through the shelves and bits of storage in their tiny home, not really knowing what he was looking for. 

He found lots of old things knocking around in their draws - a photo album of their first year together as a couple, and smiled as he looked through the miscellaneous memories that had been captured and saved, something to hold onto for all their lives. The receipt from their one of their many dates, a recipe book Kurt had given to Blaine one year for his birthday in their old loft in Bushwick, and Kurt was a little offended to find it hidden away in a random draw next to their bed, but then he decided to search some more. 

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it before, but it was a beautiful thing, a notebook with a leather covering and writing on the front, stuck on with different clippings of letters from headlines of newspapers, and Kurt laughed to himself as it reminded him of The Burn Book from Mean Girls. A guilty pleasure of his, if he was being honest. 

However, this expression changed as he opened the notebook. He saw on the very first page, ‘property of Blaine Devon Anderson’ scribbled messily onto the parchment. Around it was lots of different doodles and hearts and other little drawings that made Kurt smile. Then he turned the page, realising what he was actually looking at. 

15th March 2011

Dear Diary, 

Kurt’s eyes widened as he recognised the date. That date was special to them. He recognised it, even more so, when he read the words ‘I kissed Kurt today!’ in big, capital letters, confirming why it was so special to them. That was when he burst out laughing, deciding to read on. Half of him felt bad for reading through his husband’s diary from nine years ago, but dammit - they were husbands! It was healthy to have some secrets in a relationship, he thought. Reading again, a big smile lit up his face.

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now. I’ve been so oblivious all this time, and only now I’ve realised how much I appreciate him. I can’t believe that this might turn into a real thing soon! And hopefully, his feelings are the same. I mean, they would be, wouldn’t they? He did kiss me back. Twice. Anyway, I think I love him. He’s beautiful, and his eyes are so blue… 

Kurt was aware that his face was probably lit up like a Christmas tree, but he didn’t care. His now-husband had written about him in his diary on the day of their first kiss. He was allowed to be happy. 

“Kurt?” 

It was only then that Kurt closed the notebook abruptly, jumping up from where he was sat on the floor against the bed, dumping it on the floor and turning to face Blaine, who had now walked into the room. 

“What are you doing?” 

Oh god. Kurt looked suspicious. He was fully aware of that. He was trying to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers (even if they weren’t allowed outside, didn’t mean his fashion game was going to falter) and his eyebrows were raised up far too high as he tried to keep a sense of nonchalance about his aura but failing. 

“Nothing, sweetheart.” He smiled. The tension in the room was suffocating. He shouldn’t have been nervous, really, he shouldn’t have, but Blaine was standing there looking very worried and curious and Kurt wasn’t ready for whatever would happen next. 

Blaine frowned, moving closer to Kurt. 

“You’re acting weird. What’s going—” 

He paused as he realised the notebook on the floor. He looked at it, sitting there, then back at his husband, whose eyes were now comically wide, and they stared at each other incredulously. 

“Kurt, I swear to fucking god—” 

Kurt broke the tension by letting out a giggle, deciding teasing was the best way to go about this situation. He bent down and picked up the notebook from the floor, and continued to read the page he’d been reading, but out loud to Blaine this time. 

“So, my soft but scratchy lips tasted exquisite… the sweet flavour of starburst fruit gums but also the sour undertones of orange juice, along with the sweet promise of love?” He burst out laughing. Blaine scrambled towards him, trying to snatch his old diary out of Kurt’s hands. 

“Kurt! Give that back!”

“Why... are you talking... about our first kiss... like it’s a fucking Michelin star meal?”  Kurt marvelled, between fits of laughter. Blaine was trying to grab the notebook but Kurt made sure to keep a hand on his chest, preventing him from stealing it back.  

“Kurt… please! I was excited!” Blaine shouted, exasperated. 

That only made Kurt laugh harder, running away from Blaine who was now getting closer to stealing the diary back, so he jumped up on the bed.

“No! I have a right!” He screamed, jumping down from the bed and now running around the apartment, trying to find another excruciatingly cringe-worthy piece of writing to read out to his very embarrassed husband. 

“When we pulled back, I stared into his piercing blue orbs… what the fuck are orbs?” He joked, collapsing onto their couch, reading some more, “and I was so dazed, the only thing going on in my mind was Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, then he said, in the softest, most beguiling voice—” he broke off his reading again, trying to understand Blaine’s writing, “sorry… Blaine? Why are you using such descriptive words? This sounds like a fucking fanfiction!” He laughed, then continuing, “he said we should practice,” he raised his eyebrows as he noticed Blaine was watching him at the end of the couch with an exaggerated pout on his face. 

“You’re so mean,” Blaine whined, he fucking whined, and that was when Kurt started to feel bad. 

“Honey, I’m sorry,” He apologized, “but you’ve gotta admit, it is pretty funny.”  

“You’re making fun of my sixteen-year-old self’s writing skills,” Blaine said, the pout on his face still prominent, “Miss Eavesbridge gave me an A for creative writing in English at Dalton once!” He said, referencing their Eleventh Grade English teacher.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry for making fun of your creative writing skills,” Kurt laughed, affectionately, pulling Blaine onto the couch from where he was sitting, untangling his folded arms. “Although I don’t think this would be creative writing since it actually happened.” He cross-examined, stroking his hands through his husband’s hair. He was so grateful that Blaine had loosened up on the gel now, moving away from the brick-like hair he had five years ago. He loved stroking Blaine’s hair.

Blaine groaned in annoyance at Kurt’s display of his pedantic trait but obviously appreciated the attention, nestling his head into Kurt’s neck, wrapping his arms around his husband. 

“You’ve embarrassed me.” 

“That’s what marriage is for!” 

“Rude.”

“You’re cute.” 

Blaine looked up at Kurt then, lifting his torso so he was fully on top of his husband, holding himself up by his hands. “I can’t believe you found my old diary. Although I am sorry that I described our first kiss like a Michelin star meal. It’s just— it was special, you know? And I wanted to remember every bit of it.” 

Kurt’s face was glowing. He was so in love with Blaine, every day his love grew stronger. As he looked into his hazel (Kurt laughed to himself as he thought of the word orbs) eyes, he wondered how he had become so lucky. 

“It was special. Do you want to recreate it?” He replied.

Blaine hummed appreciatively, “mmm. Sounds like a good idea,” and leaned in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, Kurt’s hand cupping Blaine’s cheek, eyes closed. 

When they broke apart, they stared at each other for a while, when Kurt mumbled, obviously quite dazed, “Any sour undertones of orange there?”

Blaine groaned, dropping his head back down onto Kurt’s shoulder, “That honestly sounds so fucking disgusting. I can’t believe I ever wrote that.” 

“Well, actually, you said you wanted to remember every moment of our first kiss, but you actually got a bit of it wrong in your writing.” Kurt acknowledged, picking up Blaine’s old diary again, “you see, here you wrote that I said we should practice, but I actually remember quite clearly that you said that.”

Blaine frowned at this, grabbing the diary out of Kurt’s hands, reading out loud where he had written that. 

“he said, in the softest, most beguiling voice, we should practice. Huh. I did get that wrong. Guess my mind was so dazed all I could think about was Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.” Blaine said, quoting his diary entry. 

Kurt burst out laughing at that, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck, pulling him in for a short kiss once again. “You’re such a dork.” 

“But you love me anyway.” Blaine smiled.

“Of course I do. And I know you love me too.” Kurt replied, pressing their lips together again. He loved his beautiful, ‘I-got-an-A-in-creative-writing’, beguiling husband. And he wasn’t going to see the end of this story in a very, very long time.

[sergeanttpoliteness]

idk if you’re taking requests or anything, if you aren’t ignore this, but if you are I would die for a classic, upside down spider-man kiss with the loml spider-noir. poor guy would probably be very surprised at first but suddenly its his favorite thing to do. thanks I love you and your work!!

AND➝ mayhaps…. a first kiss with noir? if u have time! 

sorry for answering so late nonnies! i feel so bad about that, i promise i wasn’t ignoring y’all. same goes to the few other requests i have in my inbox right now! 

——-

➹ inconvenient feelings➹ (spider-noir x reader)

word count: 2.5k

a/n: can you tell i had no idea what to call this lol. i didn’t edit either bc… oof. i’ve been struggling a lot with writer’s block (nothing new, honestly lmaoo) lately and someone close to me recently passed away and i haven’t quite… been able to wrap my head around it?? i don’t know, not to be a little bitch but this week consisted of a lot of school stuff, emotions, and anxiety so thanks @ the people who requested this bc i needed to write some wholesome stuff. also thx at my bestie for helping me out w ideas, ily broz. anyway, there’s some minimum ripeter x reader although it’s solely platonic! hope you all have a lovely week (:

taglist: @marvelousmorales

It’s not convenient. Convenient was that one person with the pretty smile whose eyes seemed to possess an affinity to him that one time at a jazz club, or the singer with the honey voice and smooth runs more soothing than the late night singing of a mother to her child. A poor goon who smooched his fist whilst it collided with his face could even fit the designation, really— but what mattered, the simple component they shared, was that all three were just a speck in a sea with no end; an eternal blue void with only more possibilities hiding in the pitch-black depths neither he nor the light’s fingertips could touch. They were safe. Uncomplicated.

Peter stared out the window, at a completely distinct world, far from a city in a vintage film: the ongoing the mechanical song of speeding cars, the newer and taller lit up buildings, the blinking golden lights, identical to a field of a thousand miniscule suns. This was not convenient. It’s… so different— like day and night, water and fire. This meant to swim out of the ocean he belonged to and reach for a foreign land, to run after a mere drop of water when a whole fucking body existed behind him. It’s not safe. It’s complicated.

Your sleepy eyes roamed the same page for the fifth time with no precise purpose, more disoriented than a newcomer in a large city until they traveled and spotted their true destination: Peter’s own sight deeply engulfed in the view outside, the twisting of his brows every now and then filling your mind with wonder and curiosity at what could possibly be running through that brain of his. You could’ve continued with the ogling like the damn creep you were (seriously, you gotta stop it with that, you told yourself), but you slipped and made a mistake— the most laughably absurd misstep— worse than trying to take a picture of a stranger and then, to your utmost terror, the flash going off— which wouldn’t have occurred in the first place if you’d paid your electricity bills on time. Your apartment wouldn’t have been plunged into darkness, and you wouldn’t have, without thinking, your head clearly not in its right place at the moment, slightly tilted your phone and directed your phone’s flashlight right at the side of his face. You quickly pulled the beam of light away, as if that would work; however, his gaze drifted to you. “Sorry.” You blurted out, acting casual and pretending to focus on the journal on your lap. “You were so quiet, I thought you had fallen asleep.” You lied.

“No, I’m awake.” He said, furrowing his brows to himself— of course you already knew that. You mumbled a small ‘good’, holding the notebook close to your face, like a child staring through the window of a pet shop at some puppies, shining the ‘smartphone’, he’d learned, over the pages. You bit your lip, your shoulders shaking with your surfacing laughter.

“Oh, man, this one’s so dumb.” You snickered before running your finger up the paper, clearing your throat. “October 8th, 1999. Today I came back from my camping trip with Peter, Ben, and May. We ate a lot of s'mores— Uncle Ben makes the best! We also told some scary ghost stories, and I even made Pete scream. It was awesome. You will not believe what happened!” You read the last sentence with a dramatic tone, similar to that of a terrible news headline from a sketchy website, making yourself more comfortable on the L shaped bench seat and leaning into Peter’s side.

Peter tensed at first, but slowly, he pushed himself to relax after you rested your head on his shoulder, a quiet voice in the back of his head speaking against his desires, echoing the terrifying thought that he could get used to this. “I don’t know, enlighten me: what happened?” He asked, amused. You lifted your finger, eyebrows raising gradually, building up the suspense. He waited, and waited, and waited, until, finally—

“I have to go eat dinner. I’ll tell you later.” You finished with an unhumorous voice and a poker face. Yet again, he awaited in silence, interested. Man, you took this suspense thing quite seriously— wait.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?!” He looked down at you and you nodded. “Oh, c'mon! You just gonna leave the reader hanging like that?”

You shrugged, wearing a shit-eating grin, loving his genuine disappointment as you flicked the page. “Sometimes that’s just the way it is.”

“Oh, what malarkey!” He laughed softly. You crinkled your nose— malarkey. What a dork.

You resumed scanning the barely discernible handwriting, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards. “Alright, this one does have an ending.” You sat up, rolling your shoulders back only to go back to your position of hunching over the journal. “April 3rd, 2000. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I forgot I had this journal. Something crazy happened.”

“The end.”

“Shut up.” You shushed him, shaking your head. “'I hung out with Peter today. We rode our bikes, had a race down the hill near my house, and I also got a butterfly to land on my finger. Man, I love insects!’ …and I still do.” You smiled and he glanced down at you, his mouth twitching. A peculiar glow in his chest grew, fueled him after he recognized that you felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with him; an insight on the stories that carved you into the person that you were today, the being that made every classy, pearly white grin and musical prodigy so boring, so undesirable.

You shuffled on your bum to turn and face Peter, continuing, “We came back home to play some more. We were sitting in front of the TV when, suddenly, he said my name, and like a normal person would, I looked at him…” You inclined forward, voice quieting, looking up at him.

“You won’t believe what happened.”

His eyes darted heavenward and he groaned. “Oh, lord.”

“He kissed me!” You cried out, with as much emotion that past you spilled onto the paper with the five exclamation marks and the three times you underlined the sentence. You slammed the notebook shut and let out a strangled clamor. “I still remember it very clearly. It was just a peck, but he fucking… smashed his mouth into mine, it hurt so much and my lip started bleeding and everything.” You giggled, abashed, rubbing your eyes.

Peter’s brows rose with surprise, pondering how an alternate seven-year-old version of him from another universe had more balls than him. He had to admit, though, the scene playing in his head was more entertaining than unfortunate. “And what’d you do?” He questioned, his mouth twitching.

“He was just curious and wanted to see what kissing someone was like, so we promised we wouldn’t talk about it ever again. He was so embarrassed, though, and felt so bad for making me bleed that he almost started crying.” You recalled, chuckling as you eyed the cursed diary one last time and placed it beside you. “What an idiot. I miss him.” You sighed, peering up at him, grinning. “What was your first kiss like, huh?”

It was comical, almost, the raging blush that trickled his face, the greyish tint screaming for the world’s attention. It was just a Peter Parker thing, you guessed: blushing like there was no tomorrow. “Uh, my first kiss?” You nodded. “Well… it happened when I was eighteen.”

You put the side of your head against the wall, eyes going round, your inquisitiveness close to that of a kid listening to a grandparent’s story. “Was it romantic?” You wanted to know everything: who the person was, the place, the context. Did he enjoy it? Did he make the move? And if so, then was there a chance that, maybe…

Unlike you, he did not have much interest in the subject; he stuttered, searching for a way to move on from the memory before he imploded. “I don’t, I don’t think anyone’s first kiss is romantic.”

You squinted at him, noticing his obvious attempt at dodging the question, but chose to spare him. Just for a few milliseconds, though. “Have you ever had… a perfect kiss?” You said, unsure of how to word such a silly question. He shook his head and you hummed, silently taking in a quick breath, your gaze moving to your right. “Have you thought about what you want it to be like?”

Should he say it? He wanted to. He really did. But he couldn’t, even if his eyes almost flickered down to your lips. “Who thinks about that?” He muttered. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he’d been guilty of having the thought slither into his mind once or twice— possibly more than just that. Perhaps it’d pestered his mind as of recent, like that damn small scratch on his glasses that won’t go away no matter how many times he tried to wipe it away as if that would even help. Perhaps it returned as you unconsciously licked your lips and raised your shoulder, a bashful grin growing on your face.

“I have, when I’m bored. An upside down kiss with a cute guy.” You admitted, your eyes narrowing afterward, only just now realizing how bizarre the idea was once you said it aloud. Your impatience throbbed in your head so badly you didn’t mind the embarrassment as much, though. You really were doing this, huh? “I think I found the cute guy.” You hinted, your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

He understood the insinuation, of course he did. But what better way to run from your feelings than close his trembling hand into a fist, pretend to be clueless, and act like an idiot?

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

Didn’t think he was so stupid, you grumbled in your head, masking your faint irritation. You pressed your lips together, sight on your cushions. “Someone I like quite a lot.” You vaguely said, voice distant. “Though I don’t think you’d understand— you’re not one to fall in love, no?”

It was half a joke but half a real question, one with solely one right answer you yearned to hear from him if you got lucky enough. Peter blinked nervously, fear burning in his stomach, clenching his insides as his tongue dared to break free from his control, from his cowardly spell. “Lately I’ve had someone in mind.” He breathed out, close to breaking out in a sweat. He watched how your eyes dimly lit up, hesitance impeding the light from fully glowing.

“Really? And who is this ‘someone’?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Tell me.”

“Not now.” He gulped. You pouted, begging with your eyes. “N-no.”

“Are you ever gonna make a move?”

Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, feeling dizzy just by thinking about it; the downfall of the relationship once the distance became too much, once the malaise with no cure finally rotted the adoration, infested the heart, decayed it. “No.” Same answer. Same bedeviled word that boomed in his head whenever his emotions were close to getting the best of him.

“Why haven’t you done it yet?” You whispered, not caring anymore about how obvious you were

being. He frowned. Why hadn’t he done it yet?

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?”

Why not? His own thoughts repeated, betraying him. The confusion unlatched the cage, released all the questions and doubts about his reasons and dread. They crowded his brain, rang in his ears. “It’s… it’d be too hard to keep the relationship alive.” He retold more to himself and the storm of interrogations than you.

Your brows snapped together, your own fear knocking on the door again. “Is it not worth it to try, though?” It’s what you’d told yourself: the antidote to unfreeze your limbs and wave goodbye at the concern hanging in there, because… was it not?

In the overwhelming haziness, he finally looked at you. It’s what he needed to come upon a realization, a truth he knew all along but crumbled and threw away. Everything hushed, one single, final phrase in the quiet of it all.

Convenient wasn’t what he wanted.

“It is.” He said under his breath.

You heard him, and your eyes twinkled. “Well, then make the move.”

He couldn’t help it anymore. His eyes found your lips.

“I will.”

You stared at each other for a moment, anticipation never more warming than right then as it fluttered in your chest. To your biggest disappointment, he broke eye contact and stood up. “Close your eyes for a moment.” He ordered, his face indistinguishable in the dark now that he was further away.

“Creepy, but okay.” You huffed, your eyelids fluttering shut. “You better not be running away right now, you’d break my poor ol’ heart.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not the case.” You heard him say. You trusted him, which could’ve been a terrible choice. The total silence that followed didn’t put you to ease at all, honestly. Maybe you annoyed him so much with your questions that he was about to murder you, and if that’s what was happening, you were quite sad, to say the least.

Your eyelids were itching to open and you lifted a brow, straining your ears to distinguish any sign of his presence. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re not gonna believe what’s about to happen.”

You snorted at his reference, but his voice was… oddly close. You opened your eyes, and— “Oh, fuck!” You yelped and jumped back in your seat. Damn right you weren’t gonna believe what was about to happen, for Peter dangled from the ceiling right in front of you, upside down.

“Is it too much of a strange idea? I was going to simply stick to the ceiling upside down, but then I thought… that’d be… worse.” He clumsily explained. You looked up at the web he hung from, laughing in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?” You repeated, but you weren’t mad— your large smile backed that up. You couldn’t figure out if it was a blush creeping up his face or if it was from the fact that he was upside down. Both, maybe.

“I’m making a move.”

You giggled, glad you confessed what you considered to be a perfect type of kiss to him or else you wouldn’t had witnessed how absolutely ridiculous he looked right now. “So you’re willing to help me check 'kissing someone upside down’ off my bucket list?” You smirked.

He grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”

You bit your lip, placing both hands on his head. “Alright, then.“ 

You leaned forward, the tip of your nose brushing against his chin. You softly kissed the area below his bottom lip to tease him, but he didn’t want to wait any longer. Not after so long. Quickly, he enclosed your own bottom lip with his mouth, lastly fully aware that inconvenient truly was magnificent.

[stateofknowledge]

I wrote this.

It’s “interestingly” formatted, it may not actually be good, but it’s mine. I wrote it with the intent to make it read like a comic book without actual dialogue, that’s the why for the formatting.

Also, there’s some not PG-13 stuff, so read at your own risk.

Two confident guys in their late 20s chat in the facility while suiting up for their biggest adventure yet. A soft voice from the speaker on the wall tells them to hurry up and get into the lab.

Everything is nice and calm. People are at a time of peace, adventuring whenever they feel like it, each day has a romantic beauty to it. – Peace.

The men arrive in the laboratory, where the main attraction stands - a machine to conquer time itself.

The people handling it

The two trained men step in, and it takes them 200 years into the future. The ride is thrilling, their adrenaline levels in the skies, nothing can stop them.

And they arrive into the future. A future that is not as nice and calm. It's a world after destruction, slowly rebuilding itself. On first sight, nothing is alive. But they don’t know that. They hope for the best. But it’s dark around them. - ?

The next moment, the strange, amorphous, black and purple blob engulfing the time machine starts shifting above them.

In a moment of silent tension, it grows a spike and stabs it through one of the traveler’s head. - ?!!

The head rots away in an instant, leaving a lifeless skull with gray skin. – What?!!

The other guy manages to jump out of the machine, as the blob opens up on a part after moving body mass into the spike, letting minimal light in from outside.

But there's no hope, the door is locked, and no key or swipe card to be found.

Then he glances back to see the spike has broken off of the main body, as the blob had no energy to maintain it.

The blob slides down from the glass and metal junk that is now the time machine, and shrinks to the size of a puddle on the ground, but the spike remains stuck. - Huh?

He goes back, and after a moment of loud silence, yanks the spike out of his friend's head.

Jamming his new weapon into the lock of the door, he leaves to search the room and after about 3 hours, the lock melts away, and the door slowly slides ajar. Under this time, he tries to contact the guys back in the past, but unfortunately, to no use.

He notices the light coming from the door while rummaging through the lab for anything. – Hm? Oh.

He then stuffs a lab coat full of small tools and a coffee brewer.

Before leaving, he stops at the door, looks back at the puddle, and thinks for a moment. - Wait.

He turns back, grabs a small plasma cutter, and tries it on the small blob.

The blob reacts aggressively to the heat, and after a couple seconds of being vengefully cut, it stops, leaving him to his thoughts.

The time traveler eventually makes his way out of the facility, avoiding same looking blobs in the process.

The site around the building is empty, aside from whatever garbage was left there. – Where now?

But there's hope, he knows the way into the outskirts of the city, he can make it before sunset.

FASTFORWARD 3-4 HOURS

He arrives into the outskirts. There's not a lot to look at. No life, no humanity, only what it left behind.

And something that moves and shifts like nothing he’s seen before. – Whats that?

That something looks to be made out of the spikes the blob grew Seems like it walks on all fours, but does so strangely.

The things detects the young adventurer, and turns towards him with ill intent.

It charges. Fast. – FUCK!

It leaves the asphalt of the road slightly melting with each long step it takes.

The traveler notices his gloves falling apart from touching the spike, and it starts to burn his hands. – Oh no!

He has to let go. But then he has no way to defend. – What now?

The beast is getting closer. Fast.

No time to think, run!

But there’s one quick thought, born from instinct: "Impale it."

The lone explorer leaps forward, dropping his collection of items, grabbing the spike with both hands, which are now in immense paint and are steaming acidic gas and blood. The beast leaps too, being confident in its ability to hunt.

The two meet mid-air, and the monster is pierced through the head and into its torso. Its slain. But at what cost? A couple of thorns from whatever this was made their way into his shoulder.

Standing next to the corpse of the horror that is the spiked beast, the loner looks at his hands, one hand burnt to the flesh, the other barely usable, and his shoulder in great pain.

The monster melts into a puddle, and starts shifting slowly. The horror movie protagonist runs back to the pile of tools stuffed in the lab coat, and grabs the same plasma cutter as before.

FASTWORWARD 1-2 HOURS

The traveler's going through the different aisles of a local drugstore, looking for bandages, painkillers, whatever can help. He stuffs the coat even more, which is now full of mechanic's tools, syringes and rags.

He puts some more bottles of pills in the plastic bags behind the counter, and goes on his way.

Exiting, he notices that plants started to grow onto the buildings, Mother Nature is taking over. – Maybe this is Her doing?

FASTFORWARD 1 YEAR

The time traveler sits at a table of a completely barricaded house, with his arm broken, his only incident the past year.

He's eating some canned food that's most likely expired. But his stomach can take it, it must, there's not much else.

FASTFORWARD 5 YEARS

There was a couple of encounters with similar life-forms, with similar outcomes as the first.

The time-traveler turned survival movie protagonist is now writing a diary, so as to not go totally mad. He writes down jokes that come to mind every once in a while alongside lists of things need to gather, and draws little 2 page cartoons for himself, mostly knock-offs of real cartoon characters.

Eventually he runs out of paper and empty notebooks. - What now?

The library! It's 3 streets from here, not too far.

On the way to getting books and paper, nothing really happens, but he is on the lookout. Any weird noise makes him more and more paranoid, even if he knows it's just the wind.

The library's main entrance is locked, and who knows where the key is. He goes around, looking for a window to break, and he finds one already in pieces. - Another burglar?

In the library, there isn't anything surprising other than the sheer number of books. There's a printer at the checkout desk, full of paper, and some pens scattered on the ground. – Exactly what I need.

The other burglar must've looked for something else. Maybe shelter for some time.

He picks the stuff up, puts them in one of his backpacks, and starts looking for some new books.

He goes upstairs, only to find something out of place: blood stains everywhere. – The burglar?

The dried spots of blood on the ground lead to a reading room, but looking back, it's weird how he didn't see it under the window coming in.

In front of the door, he can smell something that's unfamiliar, but at the back of his mind, knows what it is. It's the smell of death.

He opens the large, dark brown door, touching dry blood on the handle. The horrible smell is now unbearably strong.

And there it is. The burglar. But he's not alone. He has someone he must've been close to. That little someone is in rotten pieces, and the burglar's torso is pierced through by a familiar looking spike. And in his hand, there's something shining. A pistol, with 'that one bullet' now in the burglar's head. - I’m so sorry!

After gasping, putting his hand in front of his face, trying to be discreet, quickly turns back, exits the room and closes the door behind him.

With the smell now mostly gone, the adventurer clears his mind, or at least he thinks he does.

He goes around in the library, snatches some books off of the shelves, and fills his other backpack.

He finds a key to the entrance, broken into two pieces. – Useless. – Takes it anyway, it might be fixable.

FASTFORWARD 1 YEAR

One monster found in the last year, but there wasn’t a fight. The apocalypse series protagonist has learned how to avoid them.

He has also learned cooking plants found in the wild. The nearby forest is confirmed to be empty of monsters.

He’s making some fried mushroom with snake meat, there’s nothing else.

FASTFORWARD ~20 YEARS

The ex-time traveler turned 50 years old. Maybe. Maybe 49, or 52. Who knows. – who knows?

He’s starting to get a little weaker than he was, his legs are in pain every now and then.

In the last 20 years, he has fought off more of those monsters than he could count. There was an around 5 year period when 1-2 monsters showed up in town every month, sometimes more. But for the last 2 months, no monsters, and no fights. Maybe he fought off all of them? – i wish

He doesn’t completely feel his left arm and lower torso from all the damage from the acidic beasts. It’s starting to really take a toll on him. – fuck this.

But he has to go out again, to get food.

And as good as his luck has been, he encounters another one of them. Not equipped with anything, save for an empty backpack and a knife. He has become sloppy, and this is the punishment.

RUN!

There’s nothing else he can do. No weapon, no hiding spot nearby. – oh fuck.

He’s running as fast as a fit 50 year old can run, but that’s not enough. He doesn’t have what it takes to outrun the monster.

But he can think. Think fast like he did when he killed the first one. – come on, think!

But what? There’s no weapon in hand. – hand…

If it comes down to this, then so be it.

Punches will not do anything, but break his wrists and burn his knuckles while not hurting the monster. Can’t grapple either.

An old man fighting an otherworldly creature above his weight class is not an everyday sight, and not one the average old man would win.

In the span of 4 seconds, the tiger-sized beast gets closer and closer, almost reaching him At the last second he turns back, kicks it in the face, and both fall to the ground. 

In a rush of adrenaline, the survivor jumps up, leaps next to the monster, picks it up, and smashes in on the ground as hard as he can. His hands now hurting more than ever before.

It turns into a puddle, just like the rest of them. But there’s no plasma cutter.

leave it!

no! bury it

no     fucking   leave   it

His thoughts now start getting blurred. Panicking about what to do, he slowly backs away.

He has to go back home to treat his wounds, but then he has no time before dark to get food. – fuck

Whatever he does, the feeling of not doing the right thing, the fear of making another big mistake, like going anywhere without a weapon, is consuming him. He’s becoming more and more paranoid, as seconds go by.

FASTFORWARD ~20 YEARS

In the last two decades, he’s gone completely insane. His diary now full of random markings and lines of ink, that are incomprehensible, if they even have a meaning. Some pages burnt, some scattered around the house. -…

His left arm went totally numb, no control over it. His legs are giving up, and his back hurts. - enough

All activities are instinctual. Getting food, cooking it, nothing else really matters, not even if he dies. At least then he won’t have to do anything.

He hasn’t shaved in a long time. When he looks in the mirror all he sees is gray hair around two lost eyes. Then he remembers his first day in the future. Great depression overwhelms him every time. Then he forgets all of it as soon as he leaves the mirror.

He’s living in his little world he created. Nothing else exists outside, nothing he’s aware of at a given time exists.

In the last two decades he’s been slowly moving his stuff back to the facility. He often confuses his old room in the city with the lab he decorated.

At night he lies on the mattress and scratches the floor, as he thinks of nothing, and everything.

On one night, as he’s about to fall asleep, he suddenly hears voices. Human voices. – insane…

Then he hears faint ruffling and the sound of steps getting closer and closer. – insane…

Something touches his shoulder, and he quickly turns around, his heart rate jumping unhealthily high. - ?!!!!!

He sees the same suit he wore when arriving in the future almost 50 years ago. – crazy…

The helmet opens up, and a familiar face looks back at him. It’s one of the guys he trained with. He can’t believe it. There’s no way. Impossible.

The two newcomers seem to be older than how the survivor remembered. It’s strange. - ?

Over the next two weeks, they fix the time machine on this side of time, and finally get back where the new two came from.

When they get into the still untouched by monsters lab, the old survivor gets overwhelmed with fond memories. Then he remembers his lost friend. Everything’s quiet now.

The first thing he does is ask for a phone. This old man’s badly wounded hands are shaking as he’s handed a phone. - shit

He looks his family up on social media, only to find that he’s forgotten about. - ?!

He starts crying, tear drops fall on the profile picture of his now ex-wife on the phone’s screen, and since it’s sensitive, it opens the picture up. There they are, a happy family with some rando in his place, next to his daughter.

He quickly wipes the tear off the phone, but to no avail. One by one, tears drop down on the phone, covering the screen.

He’s been left behind. He went through all of that, only to become a blurry memory in the eyes of his family and friends. Only remembered by the people now standing around him.

He stops for a moment, thinks about what he could’ve done to avoid all of this. There’s no one to say sorry to him, and he has no one to say sorry to, but himself.

I’m sorry.

________________

So, i’m not good at writing dialogue, so I didn’t. The stuff in bold after at the end of some lines is something I imagined to be like thought boxes in comic books.

I also couldn’t think of any names, so there are only nameless people.

[street-saint]

Giant Diaries, pt. 13

Belladonna helps me load up the hummingbird in the morning. Lately she has become more and more vocal; however, she hasn’t said much of anything since we woke up. Although, she has been smiling ear to ear.

Naturally, Alister brought it up.

“Looks like the two of you made up last night,” she joked.

“Shut up.”

“Normally Sprites aren’t as into it as all that…” she continued.

I just pushed her away, “Shut up, damnit!” I couldn’t stomach Belladonna’s reaction if she thought I would make light of something like that. Luckily, she was well out of earshot at the time.

Meanwhile, Alister couldn’t contain her laughter. Clutching my shoulder to support her weak knees.

I’m glad Belladonna is in good spirits, but I still worry how I’m going to make this trip without running out of gas and breaking down somewhere along the way. For the first time in a long time, I’m going to have to play it by ear.

“Teddy!” I nearly stumble as I hear Belladonna call my name. “What is this anyway?”

Belladonna holds up a cylindrical bag. She cups her arms under it to hold its weight. Though the bag itself is about the size of her, it is actually fairly light. The sight of her holding it up is a bit comical as she could easily fit inside such a bag if it were hollow.

“That’s a tent case,” I say.

“What’s it for?”

I am shocked at first, but then I remember that Sprites are by nature fairly sheltered. It is rare for a Sprite to ever leave the city in which they’re born, and it’s even rarer for one to travel on the road regularly. She’s probably never had any need to sleep outside.

“It’s sort of a portable shelter. I use it if I ever need to sleep out in the desert.”

“I know what a tent is, Teddy,” she laughs, “I meant, why would you bring it out if you knew you were going to sleep at Alister’s?”

Once again, I feel like an asshole. “Well, I have bedding and other things in there as well. To make it more comfortable even if I don’t open up the whole tent.”

“Oh. I see.” Belladonna straps the roll into its place on the side of the hummingbird. Funny how we’ve met less than 24 hours ago, and she already acts as though she’s been traveling with me for years. “Is this right?”

“Yeah,” I say, reviewing her work. “I think we’re all set now.”

Belladonna smiles at me again. I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to the sight.

She suddenly flinches and clenches her whole body. Her eyes squeeze shut and her head turns away from me. I take a few concerned steps in her direction. “Belladonna, are you…”

Before I can finish the sentence, she quivers and shrugs her shoulders up as a plume of light blue mist seems to seep out of her body. It pours out in all directions and floats upward like steam. It almost seems to sparkle in the reflection of the sun and dust in the air. It then dissipates; vanishing with no trace. The whole event is over in under three seconds.

I am frozen in place. I’ve heard of this function unique to Sprites, but I never imagined I’d see it in person. Certainly never this close.

Belladonna does a quick shake and turns back to me. “Sorry.”

She blinks at me a moment, reading my reaction. I try to reset my facial expression, but it is much too late.

“What?” she asks coyly.

“What? Nothing. What do you mean?” If my face didn’t already make it obvious, my reply certainly did.

“It’s fine,” Belladonna smirks, “You must not spend a lot of time with Sprites, huh?”

I don’t like this sudden shift in personality. Belladonna almost flirtatiously eggs me on with her words and expression. She leans in to accept my response.

“I have. Or, I used to. Well, I still do. Sometimes. Just not so much.” My efforts to collect myself have failed dramatically.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” she is clearly teasing me now. I don’t know what she expects to get from this line of questioning other than more embarrassment.

“No. It doesn’t matter. I mean, I don’t care.”

Belladonna wholeheartedly laughs, and I can feel my cheeks grow red hot. “You don’t have to be shy about it, Teddy. If there’s something on your mind, just say so.”

I bite my lip and finish making my way to the hummingbird. I can feel Belladonna’s gaze follow me as I pass her.

“Well?” she continues, “What’s on your mind?”

I stop in front of the handlebars. I wish there was something I could pretend to do to get the vehicle ready. Instead, my hands hang aimlessly by my sides. I clear my throat. “How… Er, how often does it happen?”

“Does what happen?”

I turn toward Belladonna and make a whooshing gesture with my hands, indicating her most recent episode.

She laughs at me. “Oh, that? I dunno, it depends. Maybe once a day? Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

I can’t tell what my face is doing, but whatever it is, Belladonna is clearly entertained by it.

“Is that surprising to you?”

“No,” I say quickly, “I mean, I’d heard that was the case. I just…” I swallow hard. “I guess it is a little surprising.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that there are a lot of Giants who would probably pay just to watch you do that…”

Belladonna’s expression changes to a more timid one. “Would you? Pay for it, I mean?”

I’m sure my heart has stopped. I try to give a quick response, but I can’t seem to produce words. In fact, I can’t seem to draw any breath. I’m suffocating.

Belladonna bursts out laughing, clutching her midsection. “I’m just kidding, Teddy!”

The air returns to my lungs, though it still takes a moment to catch my breath. I grab my wrist to stop my hands from shaking. I tilt my head down and do my best to fake a laugh.

“Your face is so white! You look like a ghost!” she laughs. She wipes a tear from her eye. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever really had the chance to talk to a Giant like this, so thank you.”

Belladonna mounts the hummingbird. As she sits back, she still has a great big smile on her face. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her.

Of course, I’m thankful she is in good spirits. And I’m also glad she feels comfortable speaking with me. But I can’t shake the feeling that our relationship is destined to have complications. Can a Giant and a Sprite really be friends?

TO BE CONTINUED…

[goddamnwebcomics]

Legacy of Dominic Deegan: Part 2

See my original first impression here.

Last time, our hero, Snout, rudely picked up some weed from a giant animal thingy. Turns out it’s one of the many ingredients he needs, as he also takes a giant leaf, steals web from a spider, and with that he gives himself a shirt. You would think that in Deegan world, people would actually herd sheep more to get wool, unless Mookie believes PETA propaganda. Of course he does.

Turns out Snout is looking for a new home, and he finds a cave, as well as a talking...piece of paper? Pagefinder, or essentially, medieval Siri. Cool. Wait, what happened to the orc frenspeak? I guess Mookie realized it was kind of stupid so he just returned to making orcs write like humans again. Pagefinder is a spell that finds lost pages, and even he gets edgy, but at least his edginess is played for laughs. Speaking of playing edginess for laughs, Snout has to go to the Blood Horror Canyon to get the first lost page. I suppose it’s a bit funny, but if Mookie unironically creates another Chosen Superform in this comic then it’s just gonna be dumber in hindsight. Another joke that i find kind of funny occurs with the signs. Turns out Snout is being followed by...evil demon cthulhu thing, but he accidentally stabs him in the eye with a falling spire.

An exciting battle occurs with the weirdo thingy, and Snout tries using Pagefinder as a shield, and as a result we get the first F bomb in Dominic Deegan, if Mookie didn’t include dicks earlier i’d congratulate him on graduating from middle school. Turns out Pagefinder’s ink just killed the beast. Huh, i’m amazed, you CAN kill something in this universe without turning into a superform! Anyways, Snout finds the first lost page but it has a hole in the middle of it, rendering it mostly incomprehensible. Wah wah. Eyeroll face occurs, which is...i suppose the traditional version of the punchline face? Snout asks Pagefinder for help but he can’t, and he messes up Snout’s face again in his self-pity. I mean, even if it’s a repeated punchline i still think it’s way better than butt-less chaps and Spark’s alliterations.

Snout goes back to the weird eye thing’s library. I suppose the frenspeak earlier was actually the way the owner of the library, Bort, types. We’re shown a twist that Pagefinders actually can’t communicate in other languages so WHO REALLY IS THIS PAGEFINDER?? Pagefinder says he explains everything once Snout has found the last two missing pages. I have a theory, Pagefinder is Trapped Deegan. Of course, it’s a Mookie’s signature SHOCK TWIST that you totally can’t expect. The biggest evidence against it however is that Pagefinder is actually a likable character. No wait, turns out Snout’s theory is that Ink Witch is communicating with him through pagefinder. He needs to find a gruesome, evil tree and we get another eyeroll face. Fuck it, i’m just gonna call it the Modern Punchline Face (MPF) as opposed to Classic Punchline Face (CPF) because i know that’s gonna be common now.

We get another recycled gag with the signs which reveals Skori Trees can shoot branches. Snout makes it into Skori territory and is bombarded with branch bullets yet avoids every single one??? What is he using? Magic? He manages to make it out of Skori’s grasp without a single scratch. Okay so far that’s the first really dumb thing in this comic, because Snout apparently is either using dodging magic or extremely athletic. He tells Pagefinder he hopes to get the berries Ink Witch may have used instead.

Pagefinder gets a piece of dat berry, and suddenly a giant arrow pops up and she drags Snout to the next page...which is Skori Tree. MPF Number 3 occurs. Snout tries to make friends with the tree, but Skori wants nothing to fucking do with the orc. I wonder if Siggy hung that orc family from a Skori tree, just to bury him some more? So Snout’s next plan is to fly to the tree by using the Pagefinder. He makes it but Skori begins to make his plan impossible. Skori gives him the finger but Snout gives him one back. Then...the tree just gives up? Snout gets the missing piece, and we find out the ol’ Dullminic went to Asinoteph, where dreams become visions, and apparently he tried to see the future, but instead he saw...oh boy, next page will unveil the twist. Did he see the past? the present? the winter of his discontent? the apocalypse? the Chosen? Whatever it is, it’s probably dumb.

Snout gets ready to sleep, and even Pagefinders need to sleep. We don’t get reprise of the orc dick this time. No wait, we do, as we see Snout in a dream, where an ink vortex...happens. What? No blood? No gore? No horror? Hmm, maybe Dominic saw THE INK? Snout makes his dream diary, and presents his questions about the last page, that basically ask readers to think about these questions too. I actually like this. It makes our hero look more huma...er, orc, and being used to Gene Catlow mystery exposition it also helps recapping the ongoing mysteries of the comic without pretentious third person pronouning and vague vagueness.

Snout goes to last missing page, which is held by an orc with a beard. Is that a male crone? Old Stoneraper? How come Snout does not have tusks? Honestly, i like him way more without the damn tusks. The old bastard smiles kindly when he sees Snout and gives him the page. Holy shit? An orc being nice to another orc? That’s like...a fucking fever dream. The orc then commits magic disappearance thing. Yup, i’m sure it was Old Stoneraper. Turns out, Deegan did actually see the end of all prophecy, and beginning of his legacy. Um, what? So does this mean that the visions are now gone forever? Thank fucking god, because it got so fucking confusing in the original comic. But wait, if he’s looking for his legacy, is he talking about Snout? Or is he like, looking for someone with good legacy in a talent show? I dunno, lay your theories on me Snout. But before that, the old orc comes. But the Pagefinder warns him that he is in a TERRIBLE DANGER. Oh boy, never mind orcs being nice. All orcs are still assholes to eachother, thanks Siggy.

Snout tells the old orc he was one of the few who didn’t hurt him, if he only kneeeew. Snout asks Old Orc what happened to him, and he falls to...visionscape, sigh. He runs towards a strange ink cube before returning to reality. Turns out Old Orc took all the pages. Oh hey, our protagonist does mistakes, and he actually suffers from them. That’s the first time EVER i’ve seen that in this blog, and then...Pagefinder dismantles. Not gonna lie, it is competing with Sleeve in terms of saddest inanimate object death in a webcomic. Snout wonders what is he gonna do, when he remembers his strange dream. Turns out Dominic Deegan recorded a song called “The Day i Dreamed Again”? No wait, a poem. Turns out Dominic learned to see visions again, and wrote a book about lucid dreams. Bort does not have it, so he has to go into another library. We reach the page i saw in my last Webcomic Check, where poor ol’ Snout is afraid of leaving his new home, and even makes a full list of pros and cons of leaving his home. Not gonna lie, Mookie does actually explore a lot of things he can do with a deaf mute protagonist, as opposed to having a deaf mute protagonist for the sake of having a deaf mute protagonist.

Snout begins his quest the next day, believing he might lose so much if he stays in his homeplace, and the mysteries on his mind keep him up at night. He sees...a lot of things, but thankfully does not bump into any werewolves, dragons or four armed naga things. He finally finds a place called...Mongreltown, but is immediately followed by something. That something is the spaceship that destroyed his home. Mongreltown can wait as he sees the spaceship has crashed. Out of it comes...the Ink Witch, who looks way more adult than any other character Mookie has drawn. Ink Witch is happy to see Snout but remembers he is deaf so she talks in form of ink, and that’s where we leave our story.

So far, i really really like this. The only problems i had were the increased usage of cheap punchline pages and MPF, as well as the rather cheap ways the spaceship arc and the battle with Skori Tree were resolved, but on the contrast there was a LOT of stuff i enjoyed, and i can’t believe i’m saying that about a Mookie comic. Snout is actually a very likable character, and his design has grown on me, his unique status as a deaf mute protagonist was explored, without turning him into a stupid exposition machine, as he only writes when it’s necessary. Pagefinder (RIP) was a very likable character and Mookie seems to be mocking himself with some of the jokes in the comic. The mystery of Dominic Deegan’s fate didn’t really get me invested yet as it’s still an actual mystery that’s important and not just a side thing that’s resolved through third person pronouns and “unseen” reveals. Also we’re shown so many new creatures and species on this comic, none of which are hideous furrybait. It really helps upgrading this setting to an actual fantastic setting and not just “modern setting with fantasy textures applied” that the original comic’s Dominion was. Also, the comedy was actually kind of funny even with the occasional repetition and the MPF.

It’s not the best comic i’ve read ever, but it is the best comic i’ve ever read on this blog. There is a little bit of dread in me though that this comic might go downhill sooner or later. This is still Mookie writing this.