#aha i'm so nervous about posting this

[psychemochanight]

Tell me some FANON facts that you don't like

I think I've already mentioned most of them, but I'll quote them again with summary explanations:

The "Happy Robin" and "Angry Robin" thing.

Especially Jason as the "Happy Robin", not because I have anything against Jason being happy as Robin, but because the fandom generally infantilizes him excessively, makes him behave like a 5-year-old instead of a 13-year-old. Plus, I do like the post-crisis Jason, more rebellious and with more personality.

Tim being an insomniac coffee addict.

Tim is the brother who falls asleep anywhere, at any time. If you're not careful, the guy has already slept for 14 hours between micro-naps and is going for more hours.

Tim being an extremely thin, delicate and shy boy.

He's so cool in canon, I just can't stan his fanon version.

Dick being the laughing stock of the batfamily.

Like, he's literally probably the most respected member (not after, ALONG with Batman), and probably one of the few whose threats would be taken seriously by everyone, but the fandom only has him as comic relief for being the most optimistic and cheerful of the family.

The thing about Alfred only letting Jason in the kitchen because he's the only one who knows how to cook.

He taught Dick to cook in his own kitchen- Dick has cooked for his family before, and he's lived alone for almost 10 years - how could he not know how to cook? If he is banned from the kitchen, it is because he climbed onto the fridge as if he were a cat, or because he is delirious with fever and refuses to rest.

Dick living in the mansion again.

You want my man to have a nervous breakdown???

That they lower the abilities of some family members in order to exalt others.

Just because Cass is better at fighting doesn't make the others useless? Plus I think it's canon that some can beat her, not all the time, but like, in sparring matches they can actually beat her sometimes too? Just because Tim is the "detective" doesn't mean everyone else is bad at it? Just because Jason is the best with guns doesn't mean the others don't have good aim?

Duke being the normal one in the family.

NO ONE is normal in that family. Not even Alfred.

When they make Dick a mediocre student.

My boy was a top student, kinda a nerd but also a athlete, don't discredit him like that.

Jason being Tim's Robin.

Tim was first a fan of Dick Grayson and then a person dude, there's no way.

Jason calling Tim's replacement 24/7.

While the relationship between Jason and Tim is not as close as the fandom presents (they usually use facts from Tim and Dick's relationship to make him act like that with Jason), Jason doesn't live in a spiral of hatred towards Tim either, maybe at first, but then things calm down quite a bit between them.

The sexualization of Dick's character.

I don't mean like in canon, I mean how people directly turn him into a whore who would have sex with anyone who offers to him. Like, no???? What's wrong with u???

I actually hate that with any character, but it happens more with him.

Bruce being too perfect that none of his kids can even surprise him.

Canonically Dick scared him more than once, and I'm sure his other kids also managed to surprise him at least. Let the guy be a human, he's not an omnipresent god.

Completely ignore Clark and Dick's uncle-nephew relationship.

I don't think I need to explain this.

That's what I can think of now, there's probably more to it, but aha-

I don't completely hate these facts, and I don't mind people using them exactly, but I don't like it when they pass them off as canon- If you like it more than canon, it's completely valid, they are fictional characters and it doesn't hurt anyone, but don't expect me to agree with you if you tell me that's the true personality of the characters, u know?

[1tsstargaze59]

Aha! More College AU Anxifear~☆

Also artstyle drop- I rarely actually draw in my artstyle proper if you will, I usually interpret the canon artstyle to the best of my abilities hehe

I do wanna say @eechytooru's designs for them are my main inspo (for the whole au actually, seeing their art gave me the idea hehe), then my colleague who sits in front of me in class for the hair clip idea XD it makes more sense for your hair to go up like that if it's clipped instead of tied~!

Some au lore after the cut (and yapping lol)

This AU is still in development in my mind, but basically it's a romance between these two. To me, romances are written with specific "gimmicks" in mind, like a certain ship type or storyline to follow.

This one is about two middle aged adults falling in love again after a long time and feeling like they're rediscovering every first all over again. It's this sense of "Oh, I should know all this, I shouldn't feel this nervous, but I do!"

Especially for Anxiety, aka Anna-lee, who's also dealing with a panic disorder and has frequent panic attacks. Luckily for her, Fear is great support as he use to be a huge germaphobe and panicking is something he's learned to tame.

Also, I decided to change Fear's name to Frederico because @re-colligere has him as Latino in his au and I'm latina- I loved that idea SM TWT so I made him mixed XD And that way, he can keep his silly last name and nicknames,,, Fred hehehehehehe-

All previous info on this au I dropped in this post ^^

[onskepa]

Saw your post about a mother's day event. Could I request a piece where the reader is Jake's sister. She's an avatar like him, & traveled with him & his family to seek Uturu from the Metkayina. During their stay, she remembers that mother's day is coming up, & makes Neytiri some gifts along with the kids. This catches the attention of some of the Metkayina, & they ask her about it. Soon enough, word of the tradition spreads, & a good chunk of the clan has adapted it into their practice. If this is too much to write, I understand. Best wishes!

Helloooooooo honey!!! Gosh dang this is a cute idea!!! Hopefully you and everyone else will enjoy it!

-------------------

Muwintxu

Sun was out, people doing their tasks, little ones causing either mischief or chaos. It was a good day at the Metkayina village. In the new sully family pod, at the edge was tuk splashing around with her feet, beside her was her super, amazing aunt! 

Muwintxu as everyone calls her, or in the words of jake. His “super cute, dorky baby sister junnie” which is a name she hates. 

“Hhmmmm……” muwintxu hums out in thought as she too splashes the water on her feet. 

“I want night to come already” she says with a groan, tuk looks up at her aunt. 

“Why?” she asks 

“To measure the stars, time is different here so I gotta use the old fashion way, by calculating the stars” her aunt replies. Tuk tilts her head in confusion. But muwintxu pats her head, “it will be better if I explain it when its night time” 

“Ok!” tuk cheers

“Ok it's 45 degrees more than last week….” as promised, muwintxu was teaching tuk how to measure the stars in the sky. Both of their blue tails curled in fascination. 

“When we left it was february in human time….so aha! In a week it will be mothers day!” the sully sister cheers. Tuk gasps happily and goes to tell her siblings. Upon hearing the great news, they all go back to their aunt. 

“Your mother hasn't adjusted well these months, so how about we give her the best mother’s day she ever had?” muwintxu suggest, all of her nieces and nephews cheer in joy. Already thinking of what to make for their mother. 

“And this time please keep your mouths shut, we don't want a repeat of last year” she says while side eyeing tuk playfully. 

“It was an accident!”

Neteyam, lo’ak, kiri and tuk all explored every nook and cranny of the island. Either being together or doing separate things. The fellow metkayina members took notice of the behavior, while it is nothing alarming, they were accustomed to the sully family being together and away from the population. So what is behind the sudden change? 

“Excuse me, can you help me?” tuk asked a weaver one afternoon, showing him her materials. “I'm trying to make a quadruple braid but I can't do it” she explains. The weaver assists her happily, but as he does, he notices it was a band, one a bit too big for her arms. 

“Is this for someone little one?” the weaver asks, tuk nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Its for my mama, mother’s day is coming up and I wanna give her a pretty gift!” she says. This caught his attention, “mothers day? What is that?” he asks, tuk began to chat away what it was, by the words of her aunt. 

Little did tuk know that she would cause a chain reaction. 

The weaver told his brother, who told his children, and who the children told their friend, and so on and so forth. Word began to spread massively of this “mothers day” thing. The name seemed so intriguing, and the word reached to muwintxu who was fishing the next day. 

“Muwintxu?” a fellow fisher called out to her. She looks up at him, “yes?” she replies. The fisher had a few friends behind him, all looking a bit nervous. “We heard that something is coming soon, a ‘mothers day’ it was. Can you explain what that is?” he asks. 

Sully girl blinked in surprise, guessing one of the kids chatted away of what it was. But, seeing it as an opportunity to connect more with the people, she was happy to explain what it was.

Ronal enters her marui, tired but pleased with her day.  The first thing she sees is her two children shuffling about, covering whatever it was from her eyes. It raises suspicions. “What are you two doing?” she asks. Her children look at each other then back at her. 

“We can't tell you, not yet at least” tsireya answered with a nervous smile. 

“Oh? And why is that?” ronal presses further. 

“Because it is a surprise, you will have to wait until mothers day” ao’nung answers happily. Ronal felt confused, she never heard of that before. 

“Ay, toruk makto’s sister explained to us and the village of a day about mothers is upon us. A human tradition, "Tonowari says as he walks up behind her with a smile. 

Tsireya nodes and happily relayed what she learned. “Yes, and lo’ak said they celebrated that tradition with their old clan. Apparently, mother’s day is a tradition where everyone celebrates their mothers, giving them gifts, letting them rest, and being given the greatest treatment”. 

The more Ronal hears of mothers day, the more tempting it sounds. A day with no duties to worry about? 

“And we, along with others, want to give it a try. Everyone is doing something for their mothers, so we want to do something for you” ao’nung says. 

Ronal smiles and closes her eyes, “I do not see the harm in it” 

Neytiri slowly awakens from her slumber, getting up and stretching out her limbs. Rubbing her, ridding of her sleepiness, she looks around and sees Jake, Muwintxu and her children around the cook pit, a delicious smell emits from it. 

“She’s awake!” lo’ak announces. 

Everyone was quick to surround her, all with happy smiles on their faces. 

“HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!” they are shouted together. 

Neytiri gasps in happiness and surprise. 

“I thought we left that tradition behind with everyone” she says, jake and muwintxu scoff together. 

“Never, mother’s day will always happen no matter where we are tsmuke” the sully sister says. Jake nods in agreement. 

Everyone gave her individual hugs and kisses, jake of course hogging up neytiri’s attention. 

“Daaaaaaaaad!! No fair!” tuk whines, but Jake picks up neytiri bridal style and runs around their home, their children giving chase. 

“Ma’jake!” neytiri squeaks but in delight. 

“MUAHAHA! All mine!” Jake taunts. 

“Not for long!” lo’ak said confidently. Laughter filled their home, neytiri feeling her mood lighten by the display of her family.

After breakfast, everyone was way too excited to give neytiri their gifts. 

“Me first! Me first!” tuk insisted, but was pushed away by lo’ak. 

“Too bad baby sister, I'll go first” he says. But he too was pushed away by neteyam. “Sorry baby bro, but eldest goes first”. 

It didn't really matter who went first, neytiri was just too happy to enjoy this day. 

Neteyam gave her a head piece made of sea glass, with small beads that dangle on the side, while beautiful, it also helped keep her hair from getting into her face while swimming underwater. 

Kiri made her a new shawl made of yellow sea weed with pieces of shells here and there, making a studding pattern. 

Lo’ak created a new bracelet made of small sea glass and shells, making a omatikaya patter with metkayina materials. 

Tuk, though with help, gifted neytiri an arm band that has familiar colors but with metkayina weaving. 

Munwintxu made a new top and loin cloth that matches with her, almost in twin clothing. 

And Jake said the gift is saved for later. 

“You all worked hard to make these wonderful gifts, but really the best gift I can have is to live another day and see you all is enough happiness for me” neytiri says in appreciation. 

After breakfast, which was done by Jake and muwintxu, all walked together through the village. Where they noticed something. 

Women were being given gifts by others, children and mates all treating the mothers like queens that they are. 

“Huh, wonder whats going on? '' Jake wonders. 

Munwintxu chuckles, “I um ... .might have taught everyone what mothers day was and they sort of….picked it up…?” 

“Again? You did it with the people back at the forest, now you are doing it here "Jake looks at his sister. Remember her doing the same thing with the Omatikaya people. 

“What's next, Junnie? Fathers day? Halloween?” he asks. 

“Ok first, stop calling me that, second, why the hell not? They are fun traditions!” the sister snaps back. 

“Indeed, a fun tradition it is” 

Everyone turns to see Tonowari, who had Ronal sitting on his shoulder. His arm on her legs to support her. They and along with tsireya and ao’nung all smile at the sully family. 

“Everyone is participating on mothers day with their families! Giving gifts, showing so much appreciation, love, it is so exciting!” tsrieya says in glee.  

Her family nods in agreement. 

“A very exciting tradition, one that we wish to continue in future years” tonowari says. 

“That is if you do not mind,” ronal adds as she looks between neytiri and muwintxu. 

“Oh, not at all. We are very happy you love this tradition. My sister introduced this very same tradition with my clan years ago, and it is still very much practiced, "Neytiri says as she happily gestures to muwintxu who blushes. 

“However, if there is more human traditions your have, please share with us” ao’nung encourages. This makes Jake grin. “Oh you will love one that is called may the force” 

“Jake don't you dare!” 

Overall, it was a successful first mothers day in the metkayina village. And many more to come. 

This was short but sweet! And very fun to write, hope you all like it! Until next time! See ya!

----------

Munwintxu = introduce present (person, idea, report etc.)

[stranger-theory]

I wanna make a master post for just all the undeniable Byler evidence, just for when I feel that doubt creeping in, but I must collect more info so for now this is all I got.

Forgive me for these explanations being very short, I'm trying to keep it simple. Besides, you probably have an idea of most of these.

(Edit: Changed #1 because apparently no one told me I was WRONG when I literally made a whole ass post about it a while ago. Mb, ig.)

1. If Byler really was that delusional, people on the show would've said so long ago. Their reaction to WillxEl was enough proof that they are willing to tell us when we are and aren't going insane with theories.

2. Mike Wheeler's top song in his OFFICIAL Spotify playlist is Smalltown Boy. The song about wanting to flee your home town... to be openly gay.

3. Caleb McLaughlin saying Lumax's love is "nothing like Mike and El's" and then proceeding to say Lumax's love is real! 😊

4. The entire Eyewitness parallel. Like, girlie.. (I recommend reading from The Byler Slides.)

5. This show has time and time again forced how in love Will is for Mike down our throats, why on earth waste all that screen time for nothing?

6. The s4 end pairings. You're telling me Jopper, Jancy, Lumax and Byler being together isn't a coincidence? Mhm..

7. On that note, El picking the dead version of the flowers Mike picked for her. This is literally a metaphor for their decaying relationship.

8. The triple take.😭 We know Will was sneaking glances because he's got a crush but MIKE?............

9. Mike nodding along to "what if they don't like the truth?". If being in love with El was the truth, he wouldn't have agreed. She would like the "truth".

10. Nancy couldn't say she loves steve and everyone says "Aha! She doesn't love him". Mike couldn't say he loves El and everyone says "Erm uh he's nervous because his parents don't love each other ! And uh he doesn't know how to express his love !! Yeah.." Right.

THATS ALL I HAVE, DONT HATE ME FOR NOT INCLUDING SOMETHING, I PROBABLY FORGOT.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hallo!!

may i ask for a little spronkle of fluff? Donna goes out to town to buy fabrics, the neewww (oh, wow!) cleric selling it to her, Reader, has almost the exact same scar on their face (except for it not being unnaturally deformed, -- reader got it from like, an encounter with a rabid animal, or something),

Donna gets curious and asks about it, leading to a casual conversation, which led to Donna wanting to come back and chat with the new hire, seeing as how, unbeknownst to Reader (because, obviously, Donna wears the veil, Reader wouldnt know she had the same mutation) they had something in common, their scarring

Make it so that Reader (very slowly) catches on ?? And they develop feelings overtime ?? But, doesnt know if 'big-lady-Donna' feels the same way, so they just.. shaddap? (i had to use that 'big-lady' reference, or it wouldve haunted me, forgive, forget)

Reader asks to see Donnas face (although, very nervously, because of, yknow, Angie staring down Readers soul, aswell as Donnas rank/title), Donna complies, although hesitantly, and Reader is just so entranced by how similar the size/placement/colour of their scarring is, that theyre just so hyped, and cant help to call Donna beautiful, to call her newly-revealed, singular eye 'enchanting' and whatnot (make Reader a nervous sap, i beg and i plead, i need this prompt to rot my teeth),

Donna gets fed up from how clueless Reader is to how much Donna appreciates them -- leading to, very reluctant, and/or peeved (take that as you will, im unsure how to topic Donnas nerves, tremors, mood-swings and whatnot) confession, coming from Donnas side. (Meaning: Donna confesses first, very awkwardly, and shyly, and Reader obviously accepts, because, .. They're girlfriends, your honor!)

Angie, meanwhile, is hurling in the background because of how cheesy, and forced, Donnas confession was, (although, secretely, Angie is over the moon that her Donsie made a new (girl)friend). Maybe add a little bit of like, restless, over-thinking rambling in Italian to that mix. (Ex: Donna just going over about how cool it is that they have matching scars, maybe Reader could come over to her estate and see her portrait without it. *Mumble mumble, something nervy in italian*, do you wanna come over? Do you wanna see my workshop? Do you wanna see my dolls? I can have one resemble you. Do you sew? We can make dolls -- *Mumble, trips over words, Italian*)

Make it from Donnas prospective, Please and thanks!!

No smut, just wholesome wholesomeness, and ofcourse, happy, diabetes-inducing ending, where Reader does agree to come and hang out with her -- make them Girlfriends with your writers-magic from that point on, because i have no idea what else to add to explain how overtime THEY FALL INLOVESIES!!! (AGHH! SUCH ROMANCE! THEYRE SO INLOVE!!!)

No mention of G!P or just, like, any arousal in general (since ive seen it mentioned on other posts, by other people, when asked for no smut, i just wanted to clarify)

hope i explained this okay?? Sometimes im pretty vague/too specific while typing and add too many '()'s and '/'s (overthinking autism brain -- HEY! LOOK! I JUST DID IT AGAIN!)

wish ya the best of luck, aswell as the best of day, may Angie bite your fingers (not really.. aha.. joking! Or am i?), Ciao, Blusy!

Yesss!!! Wow, it was a curious request! Thank you!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Two broken faces

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings:¡ fluff, Donna being Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 9,376

Summary: She's so simliar, but so different...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

I thought I had everything I needed.

I had my dolls, my books, the peace that solitude offers a woman like me… Always afraid of people, always hiding, I found in my isolated world a peaceful place to live, for all eternity.

I didn't ask for this, I never asked the Black Gods to have mercy on my soul, I didn't ask Mother Miranda to adopt me, I never asked anyone for that second chance, I just wanted to die.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my family hadn't been noble, if my ancestors hadn't been part of the founding of this village. Maybe I would have had the chance to live in a different way or maybe my wish to disappear would have simply been fulfilled.

Donna Beneviento, a young woman who stopped fighting. Yes, surely they would put something similar on my grave. I would have become a legend, that woman who lost everything, who was cursed with an illness, who was condemned to watch how little by little, the world around me faded away behind that horrible waterfall.

But… After all, after that mercy that I didn't ask for, the result wasn't very different. To think that I was no longer alone would be to deceive myself. Angie was already speaking before I insisted on giving her life with my new gifts. Angie was me, I was Angie.

Maybe she's still me, even if I don't realize it, maybe I’m not even a Lord, maybe I wasn't even alive anymore. It was hard to know. That position of power that the Gods granted me only served to make my horrible thoughts to take shape, to find in cruelty a way to relieve the pain of my soul, the rage I felt at having been unjustly deprived of a normal life.

Josef was the first, but not the last.

What was the fault of the man who took care of me after the death of my family? None. Why did I do it? Because I could.

I try to look in the mirror and not see that reflection, the reflection of my horrible appearance, of that punishment for the sins I didn’t commit, but I only see a monster, a monster on the outside, a monster on the inside.

Surely that was what Miranda expected of me: another terrifying being to keep the flock under control. I cannot deny that she succeeded. I myself became the fear, the terror.

That legend that I thought I would become by ending my life became a dark tale, a nightmare story, the story of the terrible doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

I could not say when she stopped mattering to me, I cannot even say that one day she stopped. Loneliness was my fear, until it became my refuge. You did not love me before, when I was just a girl with a scar, now that I am a monster your punishment would be to fear me.

None of that matters, not even my brothers, nor this cursed village. I only care about Angie, my dolls, those that do not judge, that do not laugh at me, that do not fear me, that do not feel anything. The flesh deceives, lies, harms, porcelain does not. Porcelain is malleable, it looks the way I want, it is beautiful, soft and does not hate me.

I wish I could have been a doll, I wish I could free myself from the hatred that was inside me…

“Grigio,” I said in a whisper, while I was devoting my soul to making my dolls, to creating those emotionless beings that I envied.

Angie nodded, walking around the work table, looking for the fabric I asked for.

“Grey again, Donna?” the doll asked, in a mocking tone. I nodded without looking at her, finishing correcting the imperfections of that new companion.

“What's your problem with grey?” I asked, cleaning the smooth porcelain, with my gaze fixed on it, trying not to let Angie distract me, as she usually did.

“It's boring,” the doll said, handing me a too small piece of fabric, making me frown.

“It's not enough, I need much more,” I said focused, shaking my head. The doll shrugged, walking over to her new friend.

“There is no more grey fabric,” Angie mocked, hands on her hips.

I sighed, snapping out of my concentration, searching through the drawers. I would never trust Angie, I would never trust myself.

“There isn’t?” I asked confused, searching the workshop for the desired fabric. The doll growled angrily at my distrust, crossing her arms.

“I already told you, silly Donna,” she mocked, getting down from the table. I sighed, rubbing my eye. I had been in the workshop for hours, I couldn’t say how many.

“Angie…” I sighed tiredly, shaking my head and finally abandoning my dolls, walking through the dark basement hallway, through that comforting darkness. “I'm not in the mood for your nonsense.”

“Are you ever in the mood?” the puppet asked, with a mocking tone.

I didn't answer. I simply walked towards the phone, looking in a address book for the number of the village merchant, the Duke.

“Oh, oh, oh, ask the fat guy if he has yellow wool balls,” Angie said, tugging at my dress.

 I looked at her, unable to help but smile. Who it was didn't matter, my position as a Lord didn't matter, I was sure that, without Angie, I would have given up a long time ago.

“What do you want yellow wool balls for?” I asked amused, picking up the phone and dialing the number slowly, indicating to Angie that she should let herself be picked up. I still needed her to speak for me.

“I don't know, they're funny,” she commented, taking the phone while I lovingly put her old clothes on. “Hello, hello? Fatty?”

Nothing, no one seemed to answer.

“He doesn't pick up,” Angie whispered so I frowned, snatching the phone from her and checking she was telling the truth.

“Maybe he's not in the village,” I sighed, hanging up and shaking my head. “How convenient, I need that damn fabric.”

“He might be in his warehouse,” Angie commented, going back down to the floor. “Although I doubt he will fit through the door,” she mocked amused, making me smile again.

“What do we do now?” I asked, looking at the crumbling ceiling.

“Why don't we go to the village?” Angie suggested. “We can look for the Duke there.”

“No,” I said dryly, hardening my expression.

“Silly Donna... I want my wool balls!” the doll protested, in a childish way, irritating me again. “Let's go to the village, to the village!”

“Madonna… I said no, Angie,” I snorted, in a brusque tone.

No, I didn't want to go to the village, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to see fear in people's eyes, I didn't want to see it again.

“Silly, you stupid pasta thing,” the doll hissed. “Stupid Donna”

“Are you done yet?” I asked with irony, with a dangerous look. As expected, the doll shook her head.

“Donna, you coward, I want my wool balls!” she shrieked irritatingly again, making me lose my patience.

“Chuidi quella cazzo di bocca!” I shouted furiously, completely out of my mind, causing the puppet to flee in terror, hiding behind a table.

Once again, I had lost control for no reason. I would never be able to escape my sentence.

I tried to relax, to make the trembling in my body disappear. I breathed deeply, lowering my head.

“Perdonami, Angie…” I sighed in a calmer tone, walking slowly to the doll's hiding place. She, timidly, peeked out. “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

“You're very tense,” the doll whispered. “You have to relax...”

“I know, forgive me, please,” I said with my voice broken by the rage of my behavior, extending my arms towards her, who timidly approached, letting me pick her up from the floor.

 “Of course I forgive you, silly,” the doll said, hugging me in a childish way, bringing the smile back to my face.

“Fine… W-we'll go to the village to get the fabrics, what do you think?” I finally said, trying to compensate my only friend for having to put up with me day after day, for having to live… With a monster.

“Yay!” the puppet celebrated as I carried her in my arms, leaving the comfort of that dark basement.

I never liked going out, feeling the cold on my body, feeling insecure, outside the safety of the cracked walls. Maybe no one had the misfortune of seeing my face, but my mere presence was already uncomfortable enough for anyone.

Just think about it, a woman in black clothes, with her face hidden by a black veil, a lifeless figure which comes walking slowly towards you. It was terrifying.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be many people in the village, it was a cold morning. I also didn't want to notice if there were eyes watching me, if there was a child trembling in its mother's arms when it saw me walking.

The Duke's warehouse wasn't far away, and I headed there as quickly as possible. My breathing was uncontrolled, my anxieties were already starting to make me too nervous. I wanted to go home.

“Duuuuke!” Angie called when we entered the cabin. “Duuuuke! Where are you?”

There didn't seem to be anyone there and we both looked at each other, shrugging our shoulders. Not wanting to wait for that vermin to appear, I approached the place where he kept the fabrics, looking for that desired grey tone my doll needed.

“What do you think, Angie?” I asked the puppet, who was curiously rummaging through the merchant's things, nodding disinterestedly. “Where are the grey ones...?”

“Hello,” an unknown voice startled me, a female voice that was not familiar to me.

From among the boxes, a girl appeared, a young girl with a splendid smile. I didn’t recognize her, I would remember that face. Near her left eye there was a horrible scar. I couldn’t help but bring my hand to my face when I found a similarity between that deformity and mine.

The girl shook her hands, with an elegant gesture, without that smile disappearing.

“Lady Beneviento,” she said softly, lowering her head. “Surely the Duke would spend the whole morning flattering your presence but I believe in naturalness, do you need something?”

“Where is the fatty? Who are you?” Angie asked, letting me pick her up again while pointing at that unknown girl.

“Oh, the Duke is on a business trip, or so he told me,” she said, amused, shaking her head. “But I'm sure I can help you, or try, at least.”

I looked at her curiously, unable to take my eyes off her scar, one that didn’t hide her beauty at all. I couldn't say why, but my cheeks began to blush.

I didn't say anything. I just looked at her confused, just like the doll did with me, waiting for me to react.

“Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced myself,” the girl said with an apologetic look, extending her hand towards me, a hand that seemed very soft… “I'm (Y/N), the Duke hired me to be his assistant when he wasn't around. I manage the warehouse too.”

I hesitated for a moment. My instincts pushed me to reject that greeting, to ignore that smiling young woman, but, for some reason, I didn't. I slowly extended my hand towards hers, shaking it briefly, feeling for myself that I wasn't wrong, her skin was very soft, warm.

“It’s, it's a pleasure to meet you too,” she joked, confused by my shy greeting, with a natural, beautiful smile... “I never thought I'd have the honor of having one of you here.”

“Shut up, you stupid village girl! We've come for...” Angie said, interrupted by a sudden movement of my arms, letting her fall to the floor. “Hey!”

“I ne-ne-need fabrics,” I whispered with a hoarse, timid, barely audible voice. The girl frowned, coming a little closer to me.

“Excuse me, but I didn't hear you,” she said amused but with a kind look.

“Fabrics, stupid! Fabrics!” Angie shrieked, startling the young woman, who, surprisingly, kept her composure masterfully.

“Oh, fabrics, of course,” (Y/N) said, nodding and passing by me, letting me get a closer look at that scar so similar to mine, one that had me quite interested. “If you would be so kind as to come with me…”

I nodded slowly, following the young assistant through the warehouse.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” she asked naturally, rummaging through a pile of fabrics.

“G-Grey fabric…” I murmured, clearing my throat, with Angie looking at me strangely. I couldn't blame her for it, I was very nervous.

“Grey…” (Y/N) commented, searching with her eyes. “Oh, yes, here,” she said amused, pointing at several fabrics of that same color.

“Wool balls, we want wool balls,” Angie said with a haughty tone while I touched those fabrics with curiosity, unable to avoid looking at that girl out of the corner of my eye.

“Wool balls?” she asked confused, scratching her head. “Mm, yes, this way,” she said, gesturing for the puppet to follow her.

I paused for a moment to look at her again, my heart beating fast and my eye unable to stop studying each of her movements. She was a really beautiful young woman, who surely hid some terrible story, maybe one as horrible as mine, maybe… Oh, I didn’t know why I was thinking about it.

“Do you see anything you like?” she asked me when finished attending to Angie, getting closer to me, maybe too close, allowing me to look at her more closely again.

“Um, yes… I…” I stammered nervously, clearing my throat again and pointing at a random roll of fabric. Luckily, it was a grey one.

“This one? Good…” the young woman commented, taking the roll and heading to a small counter. “How much do you want?”

“No, I… I’ll take the entire roll,” I said, nodding, putting my hands together in front of my body, playing with them discreetly to try to stop shaking.

“The entire roll?” (Y/N) asked, frowning. The Duke never questioned me, why did she?

“Is there a problem, silly?” Angie asked mockingly, comically wrapped in a wool ball.

“No, there’s no problem but… I don’t know if you can handle it, it’s quite heavy,” the girl said amused, leaning on the counter and looking at that large roll of fabric. “I mean, I’m not saying you can’t… I mean, I…”

I laughed at that shy side, that nervous side my presence provoked in her. Normally I would have groaned or sighed at the sight of her body trembling, but on that occasion, I didn't. Even when she was nervous, she couldn't lose that bright smile.

“Calm down, I know what you mean,” I said in a different tone, louder and noticeable, as if my own voice was eager to talk to her.

“Uff, okay...” she sighed, running a hand over her forehead in a playful way. “Sorry, my lady, I'm not used to dealing with... Lords, you know.”

I laughed again, shaking my head. I could feel Angie's eyes looking at me inquisitively, but I didn't pay attention to them. Not wanting to look stupid, I took out a bag of coins, leaving them on the counter. (Y/N) picked them up, writing something down in a notebook.

“Fine...” the girl murmured, leaving the pen on top of the notebook. “Do you need anything else, my lady?” she asked kindly.

I shook my head, turning to leave, picking up my doll again, who was still staring at me.

“No, thank you,” I muttered before walking out the door. Something, something made me stop and turn around. “Uh, actually, I do.”

“Mm?” (Y/N) hummed, with that same kind smile, following me with her gaze as I approached the counter again.

“I don't remember seeing you before,” I said with a dry voice, with an indifferent tone. I didn't want to show her how nervous I was, besides, I didn't even know why I was that nervous.

“I'm elusive,” she answered amused, leaning on the counter in a casual manner. “But the truth is that I've been here all my life.”

“Working for the fat guy?” Angie asked, with a curious tone, shifting in my arms.

“No, no,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head, laughing amused. “I mean, I've been in the village all my life.”

“Really? It's funny, you don't sound familiar to me,” I commented, with a slightly dark tone, analyzing her expressions. The girl shrugged, as if it wasn't the most comfortable question for her.

“Well... I'm not very fond of masses...” she murmured in a cautious tone. “Don't get me wrong, I adore Mother Miranda, and you, and of course I pray to the Black Gods every day and...”

“Mmm…” Angie got out of my arms, walking along the counter until she was very close to her. “She's lying.”

“What? Oh, no, no, I’m not,” the assistant said, now a little more scared. “No, my lady, no, I'm not lying.”

“I don't care if you are, (Y/N),” I commented, moving the doll away from her, laughing shyly again. “I'm not judging you.”

“Oh, okay…” the girl sighed, with an exaggerated gesture of relief. “Well, to be honest, I've never had a particular interest in… All that stuff about the Gods.”

I nodded nervously, wanting to ask a thousand questions, without knowing why, without knowing what exactly was keeping me in that warehouse.

“But, but I go to masses,” she said with a more relaxed tone, pretending sincerity. “Um… Um…Do you want… Do you want something else?”

“No,” I answered abruptly, turning around again and walking towards the door.

When I arrived, I realized that my legs weren't moving, that my head wanted to turn towards that girl again. My behavior was strange, but I couldn't help it.

“Yes,” I said, entering again, causing her to laugh amusedly and look at me in amazement, probably because of my pathetic attitude. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Lycans,” she answered, relaxing her expression. I frowned and shook my head, confused.

“Cosa?”

“My scar, I know you were going to ask me about it,” she said with a relaxed tone, pretending to read the notes in that account book.

“No, I…” I stammered, embarrassed to know that it was really what I wanted to know, what had caught my attention.

“Don’t worry, my lady, nothing is wrong. I’m not ashamed of it,” she said with a sincere look, one that made me see that her left eye had a slightly whiter tone, as if it had no life.

That was how I was like when I was a child, when everyone laughed at me.

“What…? What happened to you?” I asked in a cautious, strangely curious tone.

“When I was 10 I made the stupid mistake of going into the forest at dusk, you know, I wanted to be the bravest girl and blah blah blah…” (Y/N) commented casually, gesturing with her hands. I nodded for her to continue. “How was I supposed to know that there were lycans in the woods? It seems unlikely in a place like this, right? Um, sorry, it was, it was a joke.”

“Uh-huh,” I whispered, frowning. “A joke?”

“Yeah, well… I've learned that, in order to be happy, you must learn to laugh at yourself,” (Y/N) explained, with a smile adorning her beauty again.

“Do you find that some lycans hurt you funny? You could have died,” I said annoyed by that attitude. No, that wasn't funny, it couldn't be.

“I know, but… Here I’m,” she said sighing, spreading her arms in a playful way. “I lost the vision of my left eye, but… I'm still alive, and that's the important thing.”

“You seem like a very optimistic girl,” I commented, with an amused laugh, inadvertently getting a little closer to her.

“Mm, well, it can't be any other way,” the girl said in a relaxed tone, tilting her head.

“It must have… It must have been… difficult for you, you know…” I said stuttering, raising my hand to discreetly point out the deformity of her face. “Children can be very cruel.”

“Oh, not at all,” she said with a wider smile, shaking her head. “There hasn't been anyone brave enough to mess with me.”

I laughed again, incredulous at that attitude, one so different from mine. So similar and so different at the same time… Like the two sides of the same coin.

“Why you say so?” I asked curiously, with Angie starting to get impatient, tugging at my dress probably wanting to go back home.

“Because if they did… Well, they were very likely to go home with a black eye,” she whispered in a lower voice, as if she wanted to tell me a secret. “You know what they say: an eye for an eye, right?”

She was a mysterious girl, one who, with every thing she said, brought a soft laugh to my lips. It had been a long time since I laughed so many times, that the smile refused to leave my face.

“Um, I…” I murmured after a moment of awkward silence, holding Angie's hands, which pulled at my dress harder and harder. “I'll leave you alone, I've already stolen too much of your time.”

“You can steal all the time you want, my lady, as you see, there's no one around here,” the merchant said amused, looking around.

“Um, yes, well, I… I'm, I'm leaving, th-thanks,” I stammered, closing my eye because of my pathetic stammering, ready this time to really leave, to control my desire to stay and chat with that girl.

“Wait,” she said, leaving me pinned to the ground, walking out the counter. “Wait, I…”

“Mm?”

“Um, hey, you're not as scary as they say,” (Y/N) said nervously, biting her lip to contain her words, words that, apparently, came out of her mouth on their own. “I mean, I, I liked meeting you, Lady Beneviento.”

“Oh, I…” I stammered, struggling between joy and anger. I couldn't blame her for fearing me, everyone did and everyone would, forever. “Me… Me too, (Y/N)…”

It could have been just another day, but it wasn't. Meeting (Y/N) made me start to smile. It didn't matter what I was doing: cooking, reading, working with my dolls... The beauty of her face was always present in my thoughts.

Chance is a capricious God, one that made me suddenly find myself with my distorted reflection. Yes, a scar identical to the one I had as a child, a face deformed by misfortune, just like me.

But, even though we had that in common, we were very different. (Y/N) was cheerful, outgoing and didn't let anyone make fun of her. I was the opposite, like an evil double, like the negative of a photograph. It might seem silly, but, as the days went by, that urge to want to go back to the warehouse became more and more intense.

Sewing in my workshop, as always, I searched in my head for a logical explanation for my sudden interest in that young woman, like every time I did, without finding an answer.

“Angie,” I said, frowning, looking at the old sewing machine. The doll, having fun with her new wool balls, walked towards me comically getting tangled in the yellow thread.

“I hope it's not something to do with the girl from the warehouse,” the puppet hissed. Poor thing, she was sick of hearing me talk about her.

“No, no,” I said with a look that gave away my lie. “Look,” I helped the doll to get on my lap while pointing at the old machine.

“What's wrong?” she asked, looking at the machine and then at me, confused.

“Don't you see it?” I asked with a frown, picking up a piece of freshly sewn fabric. “Look at these seams, they're not right.”

“They’re just like always,” the doll commented, playing with the piece of fabric in her hands.

“No, no, not at all,” I said, shaking my head again, blinking, giving away my lie. “There's something wrong with the machine.”

“Do you know what's wrong? Your brain,” the doll mocked, causing me to grunt. “There's nothing wrong with the machine, Donna.”

“I'm telling you, it's broken,” I insisted, pretending to look for the fault that old machine didn't have. “I think there's something stuck… I should take it to (Y/N). Maybe she can take a look at it.”

“Oh, of course, of course…” the doll sighed, moving her arms in an exaggerated way. “You just want to see her again.”

“No, I… Non è vero…” I muttered, stumbling over my words. “It's, it's the machine…”

“There's nothing wrong with the machine, silly Donna, stop making stupid excuses. If you want to see (Y/N), why don't you just go?” Angie said, putting a wooden finger on my nose, which I wrinkled in displeasure, determined to deny the evidence.

“It’s not about that, Angie,” I protested, pounding my fists on the table but relaxing instantly. “I want her to take a look at it.”

“A look?” the doll scolded me. “Oh, yes, what a great idea… What are you going to tell her when she realizes that the machine is perfectly fine?”

I tried to fight back, but I couldn’t. I huffed angrily, gritting my teeth. Angie was right. My legs trembled nervously as my gaze wandered to the old machine. I didn’t even think about it.

With a quick gesture, I pushed the sewing machine to the floor, crashing against it with a dull sound, indicating that something had broken. It was a pathetic, almost desperate plan. I still didn’t know what I was doing, why I was doing it, or rather, I didn’t want to know.

“Silly Donna! Nonna’s machine!” Angie shrieked, getting down to the floor to check the condition of the machine. I remained serious, but I adopted a haughty pose.

“What do you say now? Diamo un’occhiata?” I asked mockingly, bending down to pick up the broken machine from the floor, ignoring the insults and protests of the doll.

It was too easy for me to put the veil back on and leave my house. I had a fixed destination. I had her beauty waiting for me. I think I was starting to get too nervous. Breaking my grandmother’s machine so I could see that girl… It sounded crazy, but I didn’t want to think about it.

“Oh, my lady, what a surprise,” (Y/N) said, coming down a ladder, with a, as always, beautiful smile. “The Duke has already returned from his trip, he should have brought you the fabrics.”

“Yes, I…” I murmured nervously, holding the box under Angie’s fierce gaze. “I wanted, I wanted to see you.”

“Me?” the girl asked, approaching curiously, brushing the dust off her dress.

I could only nod, leaving the box on the counter.

“I thought you could help me with this,” I muttered, with a broken voice, much more nervous than in our first meeting.

“Wow…” the young woman commented, taking the broken machine out of the box, observing every detail. “A Singer 66k, from 1917… What happened to it? It's in pieces…”

“Angie threw it,” I lied cowardly, earning a furious gasp from the doll.

“What are you talking about?!” the doll shrieked unpleasantly. “Liar, Donna liar, Donna…!”

I silenced the puppet with a subtle movement of my hands, making it stop screaming and move away, unable to stop it from glaring at me as it did so.

“Oh, that was a nasty fall…” (Y/N) joked, studying the machine. “It's a shame, it's a beauty.”

“C-Can you fix it?” I asked timidly, starting to regret what I had done. Her smile showed me that I shouldn't do it.

“Mm, I think so,” she said nodding, moving the machine to a small table with tools. I followed closely, watching her curiously. “Let's see…”

“I can, I can leave you alone if you are more comfortable,” I murmured when she started working, checking the pieces with a frown. She stopped and looked at me, shaking her head, with that wonderful smile…

“Oh, no, well… It's good to have some company, besides, that way I can prove that I'm not scamming you,” the assistant said amused, carefully unscrewing the machine.

“I trust you,” I said without thinking, playing with my hands again, trying not to look at her face, not to notice that scar that told me we had something in common, even if she couldn't know it.

“You must be the only one,” she commented sighing, searching for something in a box of spare parts. I tilted my head curiously. “Normally the people of this village are quite distrustful… I can't blame them, my boss is not exactly a… reliable man…” she said smiling, making the gesture of quotation marks with her fingers.

“You are not like him,” I said, stating a truth of which I was completely sure.

“Mm no, I hope so,” the girl joked amused, struggling with the machine. “Okay…”

Silence reigned again in the warehouse. She worked on the machine with surprising skill while I watched her, memorizing each of her movements. If she had noticed how I looked at her… Well, she would surely be terribly uncomfortable.

“So… Do you use this machine to you make clothes for your dolls?” (Y/N) asked, taking me out of my thoughts. “Y-you made dolls, right?”

“Cosa?” I said distractedly, thinking about her past, about how she had to live through that attack, about her courage when facing mockery and offensive comments, how did she do it? “Oh, I… Yes, yes of course…”

She smiled, nodding, without stopping working.

“You know? You can tell the quality of a handmade product…” she commented distractedly. “I mean, there are modern machines now but… If you ask me, I prefer the old ones, like this beauty”

“Y-Yes, I… I think the same,” I said with a smile that she couldn't see, luckily.

“I think… I think it's done,” she said, moving the crank to check that it worked correctly. “Just like new.”

I didn't expect it to end so quickly. I got nervous, like every time something didn't turn out the way I had thought.

“You are… You are skilled,” I flattered her, taking the machine and checking that, indeed, it was already fixed.

She shrugged, with an amused smile.

“There had to be something good about me, right?” she joked, getting up from the table and passing by me, allowing me to look even more at her beauty.

“Uh… Tell me how much I owe you,” I said, putting the machine back in the box, searching in my head for an absurd excuse to stay a little longer, just a little longer…

“Oh, nothing,” she said, looking at me amused, shaking her head. “It’s not necessary.”

“W-Wait, I have, I have to pay you,” I said, with my hands starting to sweat again. You relaxed your expression, sighing and shaking your head again.

“No, that it’s not necessary,” the girl said with a confused smile, surely due to the trembling of my body. “I’m happy to help you, my lady.”

“No, don't be condescending to me for who I am, I beg you to let me pay you,” I insisted with a darker, almost angry voice. Her smile was worth more than all the gold in the world...

“I'm not condescending, I'm just doing you a favor, I like you,” she murmured, frowning, as if she was trying to meet my gaze.

I pointed at myself in surprise. The words refused to come out of my mouth.

“Do you... do you like me?” I asked stammering, puzzled by that phrase, one that couldn't be true.

“Yes, you're kind,” she said, looking away. “It's not something that's especially common in this place.”

“Oh, well, I... I...” I said nervously, having the imperative need to run out of there to hide my embarrassment, the invisible blush on my cheeks. “Grazie, (Y/N)…”

“Prego,” (Y/N) said, with a wider smile, as if she knew the reaction that hearing her speak that way would provoke in my body, paralyzing it completely.

“D-Do you know Italian?” I asked curiously, with my voice shaking at the same time as my body. She laughed amused, with a clueless expression.

“Nope,” she whispered in an ironic tone. “I know the basics.”

“Oh, of course…” I said, even more nervous, looking for Angie with my gaze. “I… I'm, I'm leaving now and… Well, we'll see each other, and…”

“Whenever you want,” (Y/N) said, sitting on the counter casually, swinging her legs and picking up what looked like a cup of coffee. “Um, my lady,” she said suddenly, when I had already turned around. My blood froze again. “I hope your doll doesn't break any more things.”

“Hey!” Angie protested, rummaging through the counter. “Shut up, you idiot!”

“Angie…” I sighed, gesturing with my head so the puppet would stop stirring everything up.

“She seems to be funny,” (Y/N) commented, looking curiously at Angie.

“Yes… W-Well… She's… I don't know how to describe her…” I said, more and more nervous. “I guess she's one of a kind.”

“I see, she's like you then,” the girl said in a low tone, one that betrayed nervousness. The doll was making her nervous.

“Angie, basta,” I growled at the puppet, who was staring indiscreetly at the cup of coffee.

“Do you like coffee?” the saleswoman asked in a kind tone, looking at Angie, letting me see her beautiful, damaged face. It was so similar to mine…

“I don't know,” Angie said, in a petulant tone. “What I know is that calling this thing coffee is blasphemy, how disgusting.”

“Angie…” I protested, losing my nerves, kicking the floor pathetically.

“Hey, it's not that bad, is it?” (Y/N) asked, bringing the cup to her lips and making a face of disgust. “Well, maybe it is.”

“Don't mind her, (Y/N)…” I sighed, noticing how the sweat ran down my forehead, how my nerves kept increasing. “Angie, dai!”

“Don't be mad at her, my lady, she's right,” (Y/N) said, pouring another coffee into a different cup. “Maybe you can give me your opinion… You, you Italians are good with coffee, aren't you?”

“Me?” I asked, leaving the box on the counter, timidly reaching out my hand for the cup she offered me. “W-Well, I wouldn't know how to answer that… Actually my, my family was Italian, I… I was born here.”

“Well, but I'm sure you have better taste than me,” the girl commented, leaning on the table, frowning suddenly. “Oh, it's not mandatory, I'm sure you have a lot of things to do instead of wasting time with me.”

“Not really,” I whispered, breathing heavily at her apparent nervousness. Not wanting to think, not wanting to feel the things I felt when looking at her, I brought that steaming coffee to my lips, moving my veil aside.

(Y/N) looked away, not wanting to be indiscreet, respecting my decision, but fighting with herself to do so. I could see her confused face, her desire to look at me.

The bitter taste filled my throat. It was really horrible, I hate having to agree with Angie.

“How is it?” the young woman asked, with a fearful look. I shook my head, pushing the disgusting coffee away from my sight and smell.

“È orribile…” I murmured, trying to sound amused. I never knew how to do it.

“I thought so…” the girl sighed, making a face of disgust at that cup. “No matter how hard I try, I can't handle that thing,” she said amused, pointing to an old coffee maker.

“Do you want me to show you how to do it?” I asked without thinking, I asked without wanting to, without being able to help it. She looked at me curiously, then at the coffee maker, and finally at me again, nodding with a shy smile.

“Well, it's not necessary,” she murmured, scratching the back of her neck, downplaying it.

“Please, consider it… A favor,” I said, mysteriously sure of myself. “Because, because of the machine.”

“Mm, well, okay,” she said quickly, gesturing for me to follow her.

As calmly as I could, I taught the young woman how to make a real coffee and how to handle that coffee maker properly. She listened to me attentively, looking at me from time to time and writing down my advice in a notebook.

She was so close to me, her bright eyes were so close to mine… I don't know at what moment I was stuck in her gaze, in her almost perfect face, no, no, in her perfect face.

“It smells so good…” she commented, inhaling the intense aroma of coffee, closing her eyes, granting me the blessing of contemplating her relaxed face, her tender gaze. “I was definitely doing everything wrong.”

I laughed shyly, pouring some coffee into a cup, offering it to her kindly, praying that she wouldn't notice my shaking hands.

“Try not to fill it with too much water,” I said with a serious tone, pretending disinterest while she tasted my creation, with a look of satisfaction. “Always pay attention to the valve.”

“Yes, this is wonderful…” (Y/N) sighed. “Oh, sure, um… Let me pour you one cup.”

“I… Okay…” I stammered, accepting the offer to sit next to her in a couple of chairs.

Without having thought about it, we were together, enjoying a quiet coffee.

I couldn't remember when I felt so calm, so relaxed and at the same time, so nervous, with my heart beating too fast. I guess it was the coffee…

“And then I told him: I don't need to see with both eyes to notice that you're a complete idiot,” (Y/N) said, chatting with me in a friendly way, as if she had known me all my life. I wish it were like that.

“Did you tell him that?” I asked amused, unable to stop smiling. She nodded with a serious look.

“He wanted to go on a date with me to give me a chance, can you believe it? A chance, as if I couldn't choose...” she asked ironically, shaking her head.

I didn't answer, I just listened attentively. Her anecdotes were funny, but hearing them through her lips... That was out of this world.

“Bah, I don't need a stupid boy to tell me nice things... I know he would only do it out of pity,” she said with a slightly sadder tone.

“Mm,” I murmured, playing with my hands in my lap.

“Every morning I look at myself in the mirror and think: what would my life be like if I didn't have this thing on my face?” she commented distractedly again, stirring her coffee with her spoon erratically. “I always come to the same conclusion: Here I am, this is me, and if you don't like it, fuck you... Oh, I mean, sorry... Go to hell?”

I laughed again, a bit sadly. I saw so many things about myself in her, things she didn't consider a problem. She was brave, I was a coward.

“I wish I could think the same way,” I murmured with a broken voice, attracting her attention, drawing a confused look towards me.

“Why do you say so?” she asked in a different tone, with a more discreet smile, with the glint of caution in her eyes.

I suppressed a sob. (Y/N)'s attitude was admirable, enviable. I was never able to accept reality, to look at myself in the mirror in the same way. I was a monster, and she wasn't.

“Forget it, it's nonsense,” I sighed, getting up, wanting to go home, wanting to cry for being unable to recognize the meaning of my heartbeat, wanting to scream, to curse the Black Gods for being unfair to me.

“Oh, have I, have I said something wrong, my lady?” (Y/N) asked, suddenly standing up, putting a hand on my wrist, making my whole body shudder.

“No,” I said in a cold tone, moving away from her grip, perhaps too abruptly. “Dai, Angie,” I whispered to my doll, who was playing with the junk in that warehouse.

“W-Wait, I'm, I'm sorry,” the girl said, stopping me from continuing, standing in front of me with a pleading look.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, with an involuntary resentment in my voice.

“Well, I, I didn't want to offend you… If I’ve said something I shouldn't have… Oh, of course, it's because of the: fuck you… I don't usually swear, really… Not always…” the young woman stammered nervously, with her gaze traveling everywhere, unable to focus on mine.

“You haven't offended me,” I said, trying to sound softer so my demons wouldn't overwhelm me again, not at that moment, not with her. “I have to go.”

“Sure, I…” she stammered, helping me to pick up the box again, with a fake smile. “Um, if you're not mad at me… Maybe you'd like to come tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, surprised by that offer.

“Yes, you know, I, I'd like you to check if I've learned anything about coffee,” she said nervously, with a strange blush on her cheeks.

“Do you want me to come here tomorrow?” I asked again, unable to believe her words.

“Yes, well… Yes, if you want,” she whispered, biting her lip and looking away.

“Mm, maybe I will,” I murmured, smiling, taking advantage of the fact she couldn't see me, my smile was hidden from her, as my monstrous face was.

That was the beginning, just the beginning of my constant visits to that old warehouse.

Funny conversations, exploits and experiences of (Y/N)… Any reason was good to hear her voice, to look at her beauty under the aroma of coffee. I could no longer deny myself my feelings. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, every minute, every second.

“Donna and (Y/N) under a tree …” Angie sang, jumping around while I, like every day, walked towards the village. I growled angrily at the doll, wishing she would shut up.

“Angie, per favore…” I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t, don't talk that loud…”

“Oh, come on, there's no one here,” the puppet protested. “Besides, you're offended because you would like to be with (Y/N) under a tree.”

“Yes, it's true,” I said with a murmur, taking the doll in my arms so she wouldn't entertain me any longer. “(Y/N) is wonderful, don't you think?”

“(Y/N) is wonderful, beautiful, good, kind, fantastic, the best… Yes, yes, you've been repeating it constantly for weeks,” the doll mocked.

I smiled embarrassed.

“I've never felt this way about anyone,” I sighed, walking slower. “Angie, I'm… I'm in love with (Y/N)…”

“I know!” she complained, crossing her arms. “You're so annoying, Donna…”

“I'm not annoying, I'm talking about my feelings,” I said with a frown. “Hey, do you think, do you think she…?”

“Oh, no, no… Don't try to make me believe that I'm a fortune teller or something, I've already told you that I don't know if she feels the same. I can't read minds,” Angie said, shaking her head.

“But you're always with us,” I said, stopping before crossing the door. “Maybe, maybe you saw something that…”

“Oh, yeah… She doesn't take her eye off you,” the doll mocked with an evil laugh. “You get it? her eye.”

“Cazzo… I'm serious,” I said with a stern tone, starting to breathe hard.

“Me too,” Angie said, defensively.

I sighed, frustrated for not knowing, for not being able to read her thoughts, to decipher her smiles, to know if in any of them, she expressed something else than friendship…

“Oh, but that's not what I'm looking for,” the voice of an unknown woman made me stop in front of the warehouse door. (Y/N) was not alone.

“Who is that witch?” Angie asked, peeking through the door. I covered her mouth, hiding behind a wall.

“Mrs. Gravic…” (Y/N) sighed with a tired voice. “If you would be so kind as to tell me what you are looking for…”

“How rude, girl,” the woman protested, with a tone that made me burn with rage. “I don't know why the Duke hired you…”

“Donna… What do you think?” Angie whispered, rubbing her hands in a playful manner. I nodded, concentrating and gently reaching out my hand towards that unpleasant woman.

“Let's see… What do you say about this?” (Y/N) said, leaving something on the counter, something I couldn't see.

“Mm… Well, it could be that… Oh, Black Gods… Grandpa Igor…” the woman sighed and I smiled in satisfaction.

“Excuse me?” the girl asked, confused.

“Oh, I didn't mean to steal Grandma's jewels, don't chase me, leave me alone… No!” the woman screamed, running out of the warehouse in horror.

I nodded to the doll, high-fiving her. Mission accomplished.

“Hey, Mrs. Gravic?” (Y/N) said, looking at her confused, smiling when she saw me walk through the door. “Oh, Donna.”

“Ciao, (Y/N),” I said with the tone I always used for her, a calm one, increasingly sweeter, increasingly obvious.

“You came early today,” she commented, closing the door, like every time we were together, as if she wanted to save that moment just for the two of us. I shouldn't mistake that kindness, but at the same time, I couldn't help but do so.

“Well…” I said disinterestedly, leaving Angie on the floor, sitting on my usual chair. “I hadn’t anything better to do… I mean… Ugh…”

She laughed amused, shyly looking away, pouring the usual coffee.

It seemed like any other conversation. My words lost their fear. They became bold, even funny. All conversations developed the same way, all except that one.

“Um, forgive me for asking you but…” (Y/N) murmured, with a serious, different tone, with a look far from usual. “You probably think I'm stupid or… Well, that I'm butting in where I shouldn't but… I'm, I'm curious.”

“What are you curious about?” I asked, confused by her different attitude, by the fear I began to see in her hands.

“That,” she said with a sigh pointing at my covered face, one to which I brought my hand, with my breath frozen, lacking air.

 No, not that, my love…

“Um… What?” I asked nervously, diverting the conversation, saying with my gestures that this was the wrong path, that it would only bring her problems.

 “Well, you know, your veil… Why…? Why are you wearing it?” she asked again, her voice increasingly blurred by nervousness.

“Hey! Don't dare to say that to my Donna!” Angie shouted, staring at her, as if she was trying to do me a favor by deciphering her expressions.

“I…” I muttered. My hand was shaking so much that I dropped the coffee cup, breaking it into a thousand pieces on the floor. “Oh, porca miseria!”

“No, it's okay!” she exclaimed, putting her hands in front of her body. “It, it was my fault, I shouldn't have asked that… I, I… I'm, I'm sorry, shit, oh, no, no, I mean, dammit! I'll go to get a broom.”

I stood up, looking at the mess beneath me, nervous, seeking Angie's comfort, one that always brought me back to my senses. I couldn't find her, but I made a decision, the last decision, one last act of stupid bravery.

“Wait,” I said in a whisper, grabbing (Y/N) by the wrist as she swept the floor. “Wait, (Y/N)...”

She looked at me scared, guided by the movement of my hand, which forced her to keep her eyes on mine. Slowly, letting her go, I brought my hand to the black fabric, removing it from my face, revealing my deformed face to her.

Neither of us said anything. (Y/N) blinked in confusion, staring at me, getting a little closer, squinting, mouth agape. I looked away, suppressing my desire to put the veil back on, to run away and never come back.

“Wow...” she sighed, reaching out her hand to my face. I breathed nervously, holding her wrist tightly so it wouldn't reach its destination. I was about to lose my mind, in front of the love of my life… “Donna, wait, let me do it, please.”

I closed my already wet eye, holding back my tears, letting the softness of her hand caress my horrible scar, touch my hair with a rapt look.

“It's, it's incredible...” she murmured again, without stopping caressing me while I, nervous, unable to move, let that tear run down my cheek.

(Y/N) took her hand away, bringing it to her own scar, shaking her head. I couldn't speak, I couldn't even move.

“Donna, you are, you are... You are such a beautiful woman...” she said, smiling in a nervous but sincere way, illuminating me with the light of her beauty, returning her hand to my deformity, as if she herself were as nervous as I was.

“What are you talking about?” I said with great effort, almost furious, clenching my teeth. “N-N-non mi mentire…”

“I'm not lying…” she sighed, touching her own scar again, with a look of astonishment. “Wow, it's… Incredible… We have almost the same scar… Wow… Forgive me, it's just… What a coincidence, isn't it?”

“No, you're beautiful and I'm horrible,” I said sobbing, not believing her words, not even for a second.

“Oh, you must be joking,” (Y/N) said in a calmer tone, almost amused. “You have… You have a beautiful face… And well, what about that eye? It's, it's the most beautiful eye I've ever seen in my entire life.”

“What? Have you gone crazy?” I asked nervously, letting the veil fall to the floor. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Do you really think I'm laughing at you? Really?” she joked, pointing out her defect with a smug pose. I shook my head, trying to control my thoughts. “No, Donna, I'm telling you, I'm telling you the truth… Wait, what did you say?”

“Mm?” I muttered confused, running my hand through my hair, feeling unable to handle the situation any longer.

“That, that thing you said before…” she said, gesturing with her hand, accidentally stepping on the remains of that cup. “You know, that I'm…”

“You're beautiful,” I said with my head down, clenching my fists tightly.

“Mm, and how do I know you're not lying to me? You're my friend, there's no need to be accommodating,” she joked with an amused face, completely ignoring my subtle statement.

“Friend? Are you stupid?” Angie asked. “Donna, please… Tell her now.”

“Tell me what?” (Y/N) asked, curious. I cursed my doll. I was becoming more and more nervous.

“I don't know what she's talking about,” I stammered, having to stop my legs from running away right then and there.

“Hey, you can tell me anything, Donna…” the girl said, whispering in a tender voice, lowering her hands to mine, caressing them in a way that I thought was friendly, that I didn't think was romantic. “Really…”

“No, I…” I said, blinking nervously.

“Is there something worrying you?” she asked again, getting closer to me. “Come on, you can trust me.”

“(Y/N), I…” I stammered again, becoming almost hysterical as I looked at her peaceful gaze.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it was so difficult for her to understand my feelings. I had taken a definitive step, I couldn't go back. I couldn't turn back now that I had come that far.

“Cazzo! I, I like you, (Y/N)!” I squealed disproportionately, making her widen her eyes and frown.

“Oh, is that it?” she said, still smiling, not getting the not-so-indirect hint. “Oh, Donna, I like you too.”

“Angie’s right,” I hissed angrily, shaking my head. “Are you stupid? I’m telling that I like you, damn it!”

Her face immediately changed to a confused look. I growled again, kicking the chair roughly.

“What do you mean?” she asked again. I froze, turning to her slowly and dangerously. A thunderous laugh filled the warehouse. Angie seemed to be enjoying that.

“Porca puttana!” I squealed again, kicking the floor in rage. “I love you, (Y/N)! I’m fucking in love with you! I can't stop thinking about you day and night, counting the hours until I can see you again! I love you, ti amo! You're the woman of my life!” I squealed abruptly, making her blink comically.

“Oh…” she sighed, with an amused look.

“Is it clear now? Or do you need me to write it down for you?” I said, losing control of my emotions.

(Y/N) shook her head, but didn't say anything, so I growled furiously again, grabbing the notebook from the counter.

“I…Love…You. That's it, you still don't understand?” I said furiously, tearing off the paper and angrily putting it on her chest. “Taci, Angie or I'll deactivate you!”

“Hey… Come on… calm down…”(Y/N) said, putting a hand on my trembling shoulder, turning me around slowly. “Calm down…”

Her soft voice relaxed me, but the tears were already traveling freely down my horrible face.

“Shh…” you whispered in a tender voice, taking my hands again while I, desperate, shook my head.

“I-I'm in love with you, (Y/N)… Ti amo…” I whispered more timidly, coming back to my senses little by little, dying of embarrassment for my nervous outburst.

“Yes, I've already realized,” she said amused, bringing one of her hands to my intact cheek, wiping away one of my tears. “Donna… Listen to me… I… I feel the same way about you…”

“What?” I asked nervously, startling myself.

“The truth is that I didn't expect to fall in love with a Lord but… Well, I guess life has brought us together for a reason, don't you think? And I'm not just saying that just because... Well, you know," she said in a pleasant voice, pointing at her scar.

“You... You have feelings for me...” I said, not knowing if it was a question or a statement.

(Y/N), still caressing me, nodded.

“Please! I'm going to get diabetes!” Angie shrieked, breaking the magic of the moment. “Yuck...”

“Angie...” I lamented, just when I was starting to enjoy that moment.

“It doesn't matter, Donna...” she said, amused, still looking at me, still piercing my heart with her gaze. “You can tell she’s happy...”

“Well...” I said, laughing nervously.

“Hey... I thought about closing the store for today,” (Y/N) said, moving away. “Maybe you'd like to do something together...”

“Vu-Vuoli... Vuoli...fare qualcosa... in-insieme?” I stammered awkwardly, not keeping control of my own language.

“If you told me what I think… Yes,” she joked playfully. “Let’s do something together…”

“Oh, okay, I… Io… We can, go… You can… You can… You can come to my house if you want… I, you… you liked sewing, right?” I said nervously.

She nodded with a funny look.

“I can, I can show you my workshop, and… I can, I can… We can sew together… se… se hai voglia… E… And, I can, I can show you my bam… My dolls, and… I can, I can make one like you if you want, and we can, we can…”

“Donna,” she said, interrupting my pathetic attempt at conversation, relaxing my nerves with a soft caress, one to which I also joined my hand. “I would love to go to your house…”

“Really?” I asked, nodding, with a sincere smile, far from my usual nervous look. “Would you like to?”

“Yes…” she sighed, getting dangerously close to me. “But first, I'd like to do something…”

“Oh, okay, wh…?” I said nervously, interrupted by her lips, which kissed mine, caressed them in a tender way, in a way I never expected to feel. I don't know what her first kiss had been, but mine… I would never forget mine.

“Much better, don't you think?” she sighed still on my lips, letting the rhythm increase on its own, so I could kiss her without fear.

“Ugh, they’re kissing!” Angie protested.

We both smiled, resting our foreheads on each other.

“Come on, honey… I'm looking forward to see your dolls…”

[katebishopsleftshoe]

clint barton x younger!avenger

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

a/n: my first headcanon-post on here aahhh I'm so excited! I hope you guys enjoyy

word count: 1.2k

warnings: age gap (reader is 24, clint is in his 40s), reader is fem!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

• clint barton is not the type to go for younger girls

• usually he leaves that to tony stark, who is basically leonardo di caprio reincarnated

• "noo don't turn 25 you're so sexy aha" - literally tony

• but then this young woman joins the avengers, probably just turned 24, amazing fighting skills

• everyone in the compound is all infatuated with her, watching her every move with heart eyes

• clint barton can't help but admire her too, but he knows that such a young gorgeous girl like her would never want an old guy like him

• miss new girl has already wrapped steve rogers around her little finger and clint knows he stands no chance

• until things take a twist

• you have an upcoming mission which clint is supposed to train you for

• you're both very nervous to start training together, mostly because you've both been eyeing each other for a while (not knowing that it's mutual)

• greetings at first training are kept very short, just because you're both very nervous

"clint", you nod, greeting your new training partner. he was just walking into the gym, water bottle in his hand. his training clothes consisted of grey sweatpants and a black long-sleeve compression shirt. jesus christ. you had to stop yourself from drooling.

"y/n", he greets back with a tight-lipped smile.

• clint obviously showed up to training like this on purpose, wanting to see if you'd have a particular reaction

• spoiler alert: um yeah you did

• basically it only increased the little crush you were harboring on him

• when clint saw you stare at his muscles for a little too long, he had to bite back a smile

• eventually, when the two of you would become more comfortable with each other and he would wear similar things, he would ask you stuff like: "like what you see?"

• you just roll your eyes, overplaying the fact that obviously you do 🙄

𐙚˙⋆.˚

• after a while of training, you and clint become a well-coordinated team!

• you notice that you guys actually have the same type of humor, so training sessions are always filled with lots of laughter

• before training, clint braids your hair so it doesn't get in the way (i'm screaming)

• he knows a few braids because of his daughter and he's glad he remembered them so now he can do them on your hair

• he's soo afraid to hurt you during training and always goes easy on you

• freaks out when you fall

• "baby are you okay?" and he says it so worriedd

• the "baby" just slips out 🤭

• both of you get so flustered

• clint is like "why tf did I just say that" to himself

• you only murmur that you're fine, allowing him to help you up, but he accidentally pulls you up against his chest

• he literally freaks out even more when you touch his torso with your hands

• you quickly distance yourselves from each other, awkwardly avoiding each other's gaze

𐙚˙⋆.˚

• moments like these only get more frequent between you two

• for example when you have to sit on clint's lap on the way home from a mission because there isn't enough space in the car or when you bump into him the hallways of the compound, him being shirtless because he just took a shower

• you both know you like each other as more than just friends / teammates but you don't know what to do about it

• so you just quietly pine for each other and flirt during training

• but of course it's always just "friendly" and "casual"

𐙚˙⋆.˚

• clint and you obviously have banter, his sarcasm and playfulness is at its peak when he's with you

• the two of you like having little verbal play fights

• clint during training with you: "that's the best you can do?"

• and he says this while smirking and wiggling his eyebrows which makes you want to jump him 🙄

• but you counter: "your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out your mouth"

• this makes clint laugh loudly and he wraps an arm around your shoulder for a moment saying "good one" while grinning

• in general he lovessss that you always have comebacks for his sarcastic remarks

• sometimes, when he wants to tease you even more, he picks you up, slinging you over his shoulder 🤭

• "clint, put me down!!!"

• "sorry princess, no can do! not until you agree to stop whining about me paying for your lunch"

• "clint-"

• "no y/n, I don't want to hear it. I really don't mind paying from time to time. anything for you"

𐙚˙⋆.˚

• a few days later, you, clint and the other avengers went out to party to celebrate another mission gone well

• you're eager to dance and you wanna dance with clint

• he refuses first, which annoys you

• "come on you grandpa"

• "y/n I have many skills but dancing isn't one of them", he laughs

• "come onn, try at least!!", you encourage him, smirking

• he sighs, reluctantly letting you drag him on the dance floor

• you both start dancing while the other avengers go to the bar to order drinks

• they come back to their seats only to see you and clint making out on the dance floor 🤭

𐙚˙⋆.˚

• that evening basically kick-started your relationship

• literally, clint can't believe he pulled you

• he feels so lucky to be your bf

• but he's also so scared you will dump him for any other younger guy you meet

• he definitely thinks he's not good enough for you :(

• so you gotta reassure him sometimes

• you guys are the goofy couplee

• you make dad jokes to each other all.the.time and your friends are soooo annoyed by y'all

• you even make jokes during missions like when there's a weird ass looking alien you have to fight you tell clint:

• "omg clint look he's literally you"

• clint: 💀

• honestly he loves you but sometimes he's also so done with you because why are you showing him the 5th meme in a row??? XD

• clint does take on the more dominant role in your relationship bc he's always watching out for you, does a lot of things for you (he once built you a shelve from Ikea you really wanted for your books)

• he likes to take the lead so when you're with him and for example exploring a new city / traveling, you can just relax and because you know clint already took care of everything that needed taking care of!!

• maybe he also has a slight arrogance and thinks he knows things better just because he's older and more experienced 🙈

• that's probably his only red flag though, other than that he's naturally a golden retriever bf

• when you're sad he always knows how to lighten the mood and make you feel better instantly

• his kids also love you and after laura left clint you're definitely not the stepmom but the mom THAT STEPPED UP!!

• you and his kids are clint's #1 priority and he intends to spend the rest of his life with u :))

i hope you guys enjoyed!!

[pianocat939]

Hi! Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening! How are you? Hope you're having a pleasant time and don't forget to hydrate with water!😊✨

Oh and could you write a blurb about the Yan.Rise!Turtles' reactions if they saw MC who is video-chatting them, went into an animal expo and found their designated species and MC just excitedly compares or mocks or teases or bullies them lovingly like… 👉👈

MC: Hey check it out! It's you guys! HAHAHA!! Oh mi Gosh! Is that the big buff red Raph? He's so bulky! pats the shell Awww look at the Mikeys, they're so cute! scoops out one of them Hi Donnie! whispers shouts Leo! What are you doing there??/jk

And are their reactions gonna be jealous? Enjoys MC's excited blabbering? Laughs along with them? Give fun facts? I imagine one of them saying like "Why love that when you can love this very handsome turtle instead?" hehehe maybe Leo would say that stuff! 🤔

Sorry if this blurb is kinda confusing/awkward to you! Hehehe it's my first time so I'm nervous since I love your posts for a long time now! Have a good day/noon/night! 💖😄

~ ☁️ Anon

At first I was confused af but after reading it 3 times I just realized how simple it is-

I'm slowly but surely getting my inbox cleared- just randomly working on it.

Tw: Leo gets so pissy over a mini-version of himself

Reaching New Homosexual Autism Heights:

He finds it cute that you're teasing him. Although, he is a bit worried you might get your finger bitten off considering his species tends to be violent sometimes. If you like to nerd about his species, he's quite surprised. He ends up learning more than he knew about himself.

Last RuPaul Runway:

HOMIE IS NOT HAVING IT. Like man's getting beefy with a turtle of his own species. He’s like trying to maintain his smile but at the same time he’s like “Listen- I know they’re cute and all, but aren’t I cuter? I mean…I can at least do some cool tricks.” He will glare at the turtles.

Daily Banana Swallowing:

He’s deadpan the entire time. He occasionally might give a warning to be cautious of being bit. But other than that he’s just listening while occasionally sharing another fact. He’s much more interested in you rather than himself.

Marinated Fungus:

He’s calling the turtles cute, and listening the entire time. He laughs along to all the teasing…Internally, he actually doesn’t really care much for the turtles. But if you like them, then he’ll happily join. He’ll find the facts about him interesting though.

(AHA- Did you guys miss the funky names? I sure did. It's been a good while)

- Celina

[facingthefossegrim]

it starts with a kiss 。

19 Days (Chapter 409-410 Spoilers)

As a returnee to the comic & fandom, and already late into the chapters, I'm aware that someone else has likely posted similar content on the internet. If so, feel free link me as you like, but I'll be putting down my own observations and two cents here, thanks.

Good grief, where do I start with this? Maybe their longing gazes, how Mo is looking at He Tian as the latter is staring down at his lips? (And even in the subsequent panels, note how He Tian keeps returning his gaze to Mo's mouth.)

Judging by the position of their hands, it looks like He Tian is the one who initiates the contact, but I could be wrong. Either way, it's clear that Mo's nervous (he's been sweating non-stop, and his free hand's shaking), but even his nervousness and uncertainty doesn't stop him from closing the distance. He Tian's gaze has shifted from his mouth to his eyes (much more intimate and intense), and Mo ends up losing his nerves and aborting the mouth-to-mouth kiss.

Mo chooses to close his eyes to escape (the pressure, the intensity, the intimacy), but from his furrowed brow, even this isn't easy. He Tian, on the other hand, closes the distance with his embrace, accepting whatever modicum of affection Mo's willing to give him. He's following Mo's lead. Mo's pace.

Mo quickly breaks away in the panel following the kiss; the way he pulls back and keeps an arm between them shows a desire for distance; he's embarrassed and trying to change the subject (good grief, can you get more tsundere than "my mom prolly doesn't hate you" --he can't even bring himself to express his own feelings towards He Tian directly; has to bring his mom in the conversation, pfft.)

He Tian, on the other hand, won't be so easily distracted or dissuaded. He's got his arms around Mo and won't let him pull back too much; his eyes have returned to Mo's mouth, even as he prompts him to continue. (He's trying to get Mo to confess, aha.)

Even in this next panel, as Mo turns aside, He Tian is maintaining contact with him, only letting go when Mo presents him with the piercing kit, but the kit itself isn't important; his eyes remain on Mo's face, he's seeing everything Mo isn't saying.

The detail of the piercing kit, I like, because Mo's piercings symbolize ownership. Mo isn't a pet or a dog, but he's been compared one several times (both by She Li and He Tian). She Li and He Tian have both used Mo's piercings as a mark of ownership (She Li having pierced Mo's ear, and He Tian buying him earrings). Unlike with She Li, Mo is willing to accept He Tian.

Though He Tian was being possessive af in chapters 282-284 when the backstory about the piercings was revealed, Mo was the one who decided that he wanted to wear the earrings that He Tian gave him.

In chapters 372-373, Mo even took it a step further and requested a new piercing from He Tian, but after the initial shocked reaction, He Tian beckons him over and says this:

Mo's confessing to him. Not directly, and not with straightforward words, 'cause let's face it, that brand of vulnerability doesn't come easy to Mo. He's nervous, and stuttering, and avoiding eye contact, but He Tian's not about to let it go. Mo needs to look, to actually see and understand for himself how He Tian feels as well.

The way He Tian puts himself under Mo is pretty interesting (reminds me of when he did this in chapter 296, when he declared in front of Mo's underlings that He Tian would be his lackey). Is it a way to reassure Mo while simultaneously soothing his ego? Or is it a way for He Tian to communicate that the ball's in Mo's court; that he's the one who'll set the pacing in their relationship?

He' Tian's pretty clever, using just the right words to reassure Mo. He's turning Mo's gaze to him, and while Mo is looking at his face here, He Tian is instead looking right at his lips, communicating exactly what he wants. He's stroking Mo's bottom lip with his thumb, while slowly closing the distance Mo previously created.

That look in Mo's eyes, it's a reflection of mutual desire, and maybe it's because Mo can see it now, that what He Tian wants is what they both want, that Mo tells him when prompted (with a gesture, rather than words). Even now, he's looking carefully at He Tian for his reaction, not because he thinks the latter will reject him, but because he wants to make sure he sees it clearly.

As for He Tian, he's the one who's slowly been closing the gap all this time (their faces getting closer and closer), but Mo's the one who has the final say. He Tian complies to his unspoken wish.

It's the perfect kiss.

Credits: comic by Old Xian 。translations by alexc1ting 。

[allwormdiet]

Tangle 6.3

Brian I like you a lot but I'm gonna have to gently bully you about some things on this post

God I miss having my own place, every apartment I ever had was a dim pit but it was my dim pit

Okay, so. The main thing I'm pulling from Brian's aesthetic preferences is that he wants to be boring. This isn't, strictly, a bad thing, he knows what he wants and I don't think that it's wrong to want to play things safe aesthetically. That being said, like, my god, you cannot get any kind of personality out of this description. Light gray bookshelves? Pale tan couches? What are we doing with the paint on the walls, eggshell white? Off-white? Wild wheat? Are we gonna have some biographies of Allied WW2 leaders tastefully laid out on the new bookshelves?

It's definitely a contrast to the prior living spaces we've seen, both the Heberts' and the loft, and frankly this one is not working for me, I don't know if my tone has carried over on that lmao

Brian, god, please don't tell me this is a date, please don't tell me this is a date

Desperate craving for touch and affection: activate

(No I don't know what that's like)

Brian. Brian please. Was that meant to be a move? I need to know if that was intended to be some kind of overture towards Taylor, you cannot leave me in the dark on this

Aisha, from the bottom of my heart, thank you

Okay let's not talk about the breast size of a 12-13 year old compared to a 15 year old, please and thank you

Boy. Boy oh boy. Taylor, hon, bestie, what's going on here? Is this more envy? I don't know what you're doing in this narration and it's worrying me

Aha. Aisha is a stinker, I see.

Taylor, please don't play dumb, Aisha is not stupid and will be unimpressed by the attempt

Taylor, why are you so nervous, she's in like eighth grade max. Middle schoolers can only do damage to other middle schoolers.

Interesting to see this breakdown on Brian's efforts. Mrs. Henderson's got a point, from what I can glean of Aisha's aesthetic tastes this apartment doesn't seem someplace she'd call home. I'm not sure anyone would call this home except for people who live in furniture catalogs, but that's just me.

She might be annoying, but I'd hardly suspect Aisha to be a narc, c'mon now

Lisa, thank you so much for interrupting, this is a mercy

Girl, if the idea of betraying them already agonizes you this much you're probably already fucked!

Current Thoughts

I've been dumped while on a date (we were walking in a park) and it felt more natural than the time between Taylor and Brian. I hope this wasn't a date, because it'd be a fucking terrible first date.

Aisha seems like a real character, God willing her presence in the story gets smoother than this introduction because holy shit that was rough

Also Taylor you're not turning these people over lmao

[bbyquokka]

hi, it's been a while huh. how r u all? i hope u've all been taking care of urselves !! i didn't intend to take this long of a break but life has been.. well.. life 😶‍🌫️ (rambles below.)

i've been wanting to come back a few weeks ago but every time i logged back onto the app, my brain n insecurities would eat me up so i'd log back out n tell myself tmrw will be different. ig i've lost the confidence in my writing n have become insecure about my abilities. have this nasty habit of comparing myself to others n thinking that there's no need for me to come back/post bc there's always gonna be someone better than me, aha (insecurities r fun, yknow) bUT enough of the oversharing bc i feel weird n awkward, i have been writing in my spare time n i have finally finished my jisung bday piece which i will post soontm (once i've polished it up) n i've got some other stuff that's completed which i will also post !!

anywhoo–lets talk !! how r u all? how was ur halloween? did u dress up? if so, what?! o: i did a last min halloween make-up n i did choso bc.. well.. i don't think i need to explain why, hihi 🥵🥵 if u don't celebrate halloween, what did u do anyways?! what have yall be doing? hows life for yall?

how's kpop btw? i haven't been keeping track of anything lately (aside from the riize situation) ik skz announced a cb n im excited but im not? idk, i find comebacks veeeery stressful n very overwhelming 😅 hope yall got tickets btw !! 🙂‍↕️ ( cries in eu n poor ) hanji casually revealing that he has another tat on his side which, omg he has another tat BUT also, sad bc NO MORE CROP TOPS 😭💔

oH. let's talk about ARCANE??!!! ✨ cinema ✨ i haven't cried that hard over a show in a veeeeerry long time. sad it's over n they won't be making another season, but im excited to see what other regions of ruintera they'll explore 👀👀

more league stuff, aha; BUT WORLDS FINAL?! ofc t1 won 🤭 i watched it with my bf n just,,, woooow!! gutted i couldn't go see it live bc they held the ceremony in london but it is what it is 🙂‍↕️ the open ceremony was *chefs kiss* ashnikko was my fav. linkin' park.... eeeh. idk. for a worlds song, personally, i don't like it.. (sry)

but yeee, aside from that, life has been a little iffy lately but i'm back (kinda. im nervous af to come back so uuh, be gentle with me. tack! 🥺) to write n post as much as i can (uni started. bye bye free time) but i hope ur all well n i've missed being here n interacting with u ❤️‍🩹

[firefly--bright]

peeks and blinders (you know me)

jean kirstein x gender neutral! reader, modern au

summary : being loved required patience and time and hope. luckily, jean provided all of them, without hesitation.

warnings : feelings of being deeply alone, heavy, hurt/comfort but mostly hurt, reader might sort of have depression

a/n : aha. lol. lmao. uhmmm yeah this is incredibly self indulgent and a projection. if you relate to this please PLEASE know that you're a) not alone and also b) I'm here if you ever need anyone to talk to. i wrote this with an unhappy ending in mind but with the poll results (and let's be honest, the aot finale) I decided to make it a happy ending instead. don't worry, everything works out in the end. this fic might just be terrible if you're already sad, so reader discretion is advised! i dont expect anyone to read the whole thing!!! but if you do read it, I hope you like it because I spent way too long on it. the ending might've been a little rushed only because I wanted to get this out as soon as possible so I could move on with a new fic idea ;)

taglist : @mrsnobodynobody @holding-infinity-and-a-book @jeanscremebrulee (side note- thank you for the kind words in my taglist form's criticism/comments question. i truly, deeply appreciate it :) )

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ requests are open! ✿ likes and reblogs are appreciated! ✿ join my taglist ✿

✿ recommended playlist to listen to while reading ✿

living with someone meant showing yourself, something you weren't afraid of. well, not afraid, more just apprehensive. there was too much of a potential to fucking up a relationship; showing yourself too much in the one place you're allowed to be yourself without restrictions and limitations. you love your friends, you love jean, but sometimes the quietness of being alone was more than welcome because it had to be.

so when jean asked you with eyes that didn't meet your own if you wanted to move in with him, you didn't answer. quiet literally, you paused from eating the slice of pizza in your hand. he continued on with his nervous 'making-up-for-the-lack-of-response' ramble, explaining how you technically already lived together, how he liked finding your toothbrush next to his, and reluctantly admitted that he sometimes used your soap when he wanted to have a good day. a speech that warmed you despite your answer.

because no matter how comfortable you'd be with anyone, sharing the same space with them was a different kind quiet, unrelenting vulnerability. the fact that you existed and let someone percieve you without hinderance was...too much to think about. you had been alone your whole life, not in a pitiable way, but in a way where you didn't have a childhood best friend. you didn't have people stick around, like you were only at a corssroad of people's lives and greeted them with familiarity and comfort that they'd craved, despite your want and desire for it yourself. they'd continue on with their path while you would sit there, patiently, passing time.

jean admitted it to you. indirectly, he had confessed that he wanted to see you vulnerable and bare open in a way that people wouldn't know you normally. in a way where you were simply a locked window that noone had the key to. but there wasn't anything special to hide, no great overview of the city or the sea or rolling hills and valleys and large fields. no, just an unimpressive view of an unmowed backyard. untamed and messy - again, nothing special. just years of neglect while also being looked at. nothing special.

you didn't want him to see it. and technically, he asked you. you stopped spiralling just as he started his own, realising the effect your non verbal answer had on him, you simply said "I'll think about it." and tried to crack jokes along until the end of the night. because if nothing, then jean deserved some peace to balance out the turbulence that came with loving you.

in all honesty, you didn't know what you did. how you comitted the monsterous feat of getting him to love you. how he loved you in your entirety (or lack of it), how he woke up everyday and chose to love you despite everything that you took from him, drawing out his grumbling patience and gentleness because loving you meant waiting. loving you always, somehow, meant not loving you, because there was no way someone would know you, all your stories and opinions and ideas and still choose to love you.

living with you meant knowing your anatomy. not of your physical, breathing body, but the inside of your organs. it meant knowing that your stomach was filled with guilt, that your mouth could only utter whispers of people who once loved you and 'im sorries' to someone who won't know. it meant knowing that your hands were always aching to be held, that your skin was only ever warm when it was loved. it meant knowing that your chest was always heaving, yearning for a breath of relief that would never arrive. it meant knowing that your eyes always wandered off to the weighing scale kept at the back of your closet, always wandered off to find another pair of eyes that would look similar to yours. it meant knowing that your hair was always knotted with the doubts your mouth would never ask. it meant knowing so much about you, about the grey matter in your brain and about what flowed through your veins was nothing but pure doubt and discomfort with the unholy temple that was your body, the temple without a god, the temple that noone went back to. a body without a home.

he wouldn't want to know. he shouldn't want to know, and more importantly, he wouldn't like finding out. it would either be too much or too little, and his fingers would cramp up with the effort it took for him to pry you open, only for no prize to be met with. besides, you were okay just talking to yourself, no matter how insane it sounded. you got through so many years being self-sufficient, right? you didn't know how to handle it, handle someone actually loving you without doubt. you had lived long enough without it. someone loving you was new, something you didn't have a map for, something you didn't have any precautions against.

you and jean slept together that night. in the same bed, breathing the same air, under the same covers. you didn't share the same sleep, however, as his mind made dreams and yours went on like an unfinished painting - a list of unfullfilled answers, no meanings, trying and failing to come together. you found yourself watching him breathe; just his chest moving up and down and up and down, your hands twiching to rest on top of his but you didn't know if that's where they'd belong. if his body would wake itself up because of your touch - everyone was always surprised by how cold your fingers were. you were used to it.

maybe living with him wouldn't be that bad, right? as he said, you already shared the same space to a point where the pair of you felt comfortable enough to not care if your hair was groomed perfectly or if the colours and patterns of your outfit were clashing. but would he like it? would he like just how much more comfortable you could get? just how much you could ask for? just how long you could lock yourself up in the bathroom and try to cry? would he like to know just how long you sometimes spent on your bed, refusing to get up because your heart felt too heavy for your chest? for when your heart felt like it could fall through your back, punch a hole through the ground and bury itself in the earth until it could somehow bonify and fossilize and archeologists would recognise, instantly, that it didn't belong there.

he'd leave. that was something you knew for a fact. your love wouldn't be wasted, ofcourse not, neither would the time, but maybe he'd leave feeling like he'd wasted himself at your expense. or maybe he wouldn't think about you at all.

your night was spent with your brain spiralling - thoughts about how you didn't know how to handle being loved the way he loved you, about how you probably never had a childhood best friend that was still in your life because the phases of your life weren't meant for anyone but yourself to see, about how much your hair fell due to the stress of distracting yourself from overwhelming sadness by studying and creating while also being only slightly average at it. you fell asleep thinking about how the abundance of being alone, to you, meant being not alone at all, because there was no differenciation of company and lonlieness because there hadnt been any company to remind you of the lonliness at all- your eyes had fluttered closed and breathing evened.

jean always wondered if you were hiding something from him. not in a bad way, not in the way where he couldn't say he loves you, but in the way where you'd hesitate. and if he didn't love you as much, he probably wouldn't have even noticed. but fortunately, he did know you. a little too well.

he knew how much you loved the crunchy autumn leaves, so much so that you would alter your paths just to crunch one under your boot, a smile of satisfaction gracing your face after hearing the noise it made. he knew how much your fingers would reach out for his. he knew how much you tried - with everything. he knew of your unsaid struggles, knew when and what made your mood sour. and he loved it, he loved the fact that he knew all of those thing but more importantly, loved that he loved them.

loving you felt like it was a built-in feature.

but despite all of this, he didn't know why. he didn't know why you were the way you were. he knew you tried, but he didn't know why. he knew you struggled, but didn't know why. and it was driving him crazy, especially after last night. he couldn't help himself, even if he could see you, again, trying to diffuse the situation with lighthearted jokes, he couldn't help but think a little too much.

did you not want to? jean had always been honest about how much he struggled with being either too much or too little, about how much the words hurled by his friends when he was young hurt him, about how much his love proved to be uncomfortable and silent and resigned. maybe his honesty was too much for you. maybe you didn't like the burdens he came with, maybe you didn't like knowing how much his father's absence had affected him, or about how much his previous partner altered the way he saw himself to a miserable extent. you hadn't asked for all of this, all of him, all of his parts. maybe you were getting sick of it.

or maybe, if Jean's knowledge about you served right, you were being hesitant again.

he swears he doesn't mind it. you not wanting to move in with him wasn't a problem, but he just wished he knew why. the whole day, the only thing on his mind was how he could feel less hesitant towards him, god, anyone but him. he knew, firsthand, how it felt being so overwhelmed by inconsequencial doubt where he was left with so many regrettable unanswered questions engraved into the palm of his hands because he kept them hidden in his fist for too long, where he wishes, prays, and hopes for an answer that he knows will never arrive even if he doesn't look for it.

there are many things jean wishes and prays and hopes for. you're not one of them. but only because you're here. he doesn't need any other wish to be fulfilled or prayer to be answered or hope to sparkle. you are, inadvertently, all of them. a love without doubt, a wish without a cost, a prayer without a sacrifice, a hope without desperation. you're all of them. you're everything.

but he knows that if he's hesitant this time, if he doesn't reach out to grab you, if he doesn't do something, no matter how desperate, he will most ceratinly feel a deeper regret than he has ever felt before. and yes he may be exxagerating it, but he doesn't care. he'd learnt not to care when he was with you - he's learnt to be comfortable with you and around you. he wants to tell you that it's okay if you don't want to move in with him because his home is wherever you would be, his home is his hand on your thigh, his home is watching you blink in thought, his home is the sound of your footsteps. his home is anywhere with you. you are the only person who has the right to know that.

he makes his familiar way over to your apartment. you're not home yet, sasha informs him with a sleepy voice and messed up hair, "but you can wait in their room." she says because everyone knows that you wouldn't mind him waiting in your room. including him.

he does your routine - the one he's seen you do countless of times when you enter your room - take off his coat and hang it on the back of your door where one of the hooks is kept empty for him, shoulder his bag off and put it down on the spot next to your desk, turn on the desk lamp and the night lamp because you refused to turn the overhead lights on, because "they are so hideous why would I want to turn them on," according to you, and then finally occupy the space on your bed, laying his back down and his hands resting on his stomach as he waited for you.

staring at the cracking paint on the ceiling of your bedroom, jean thinks. from his pending homework that he's mentally figuring out how to schedule to how he's going to conduct this new group project with people he has never talked to before to how is it already the second last year of University because it felt like the first day was yesterday, until finally his thoughts landed on you. of course it would always lead to you.

it started from him thinking about University, then about how he met you on the second day, seeing you in one of his classes, sitting diagonaly across him, how you conducted yourself, slipping your bag off and checking your phone. then it turned to him seeing you at the freshers party where he saw his now ex-partner with someone he knew he shouldve questioned more. how he stormed off of the party with half tears of sadness and half of anger, catching a glimpse of you in the corner of the room, looking kind of lost. he saw you multiple times after that but never talked to you. he saw you at an ice-cream parlor once. he wanted to talk to you, but Connie had loudly confirmed the tickets to this new concert, which took away Jean's attention from you. but then he was introduced to you by Marco, because of course it would be Marco who had the pleasure to befriend amazing people. he met you then, properly, when you introduced yourself, and he nodded at you with little regard.

jean shook his head with a little smile. he had been so stupid, that day. he barely looked in your direction as you got acquainted with Marco, Connie and sasha, but he didn't disregard the fact that you looked less lost than you were at the party.

you had a way of sticking around, jean found out after that. he didn't realise when you had slipped into his life, hiding in plain sight. one night he found himself awake the same time as you and the next, he found himself saving a seat for you in the class you shared with him. soon enough, you knew him as well as he knew you, and there was softness in the recognition your eyes held when they met with his. the same appreciation of his existence, something he hadn't felt before. he couldn't say that he knew you as well as the back of his hand, because really, he knew you like the back of your hand, because he'd looked at your hands more than he'd ever looked at his, noticing all the little creases and scars and veins and hairs. he knew what warmth they held, he'd felt it after your hands made their way into his while walking back to your dorm on a cold night. a night jean would never forget because he had frantically knocked on your door right after leaving you there, because his senses had finally worked and he had finally found out that he wanted to kiss you. and he did, and you kissed back, and jean swore he had never been happier even while he could hear sasha and Connie and Marco cheering for the both of you. he kissed your forehead as a goodnight that night. you were in his shirt.

you were his home before he even knew what his home was, before he could find out for himself. you became an answer with a question.

he sighed, hearing your footsteps make their way through the tiny apartment, saying a small "hi," to sasha who was sleeping on the couch. the door to your room swung open just as jean sat up, his weight resting on his forearms on your mattress. you didn't seem surprised that he was there, just flashing a smile at him before removing your bag and placing it down, and jean felt his heart flutter with comfort as your presence filled the room.

his eyes trailed you as you did the same thing he did a few moments ago, plopping yourself down right next to him. your breathing evened out with his as the two of you lay in silent comfort before jean spoke.

his voice was a low hum. the words were barely different, but you understood them anyway. "yknow you can talk to me about anything, right? even if it's sad or not funny or not...I don't know, not remarkable. you can say it. i won't laugh unless you want me to." he says. it's a flimsy promise, but you know his words hold a meaning that you can't quiet grasp.

his palm lays on top of the back of your hand.

he's warm. scarily so, because why would someone hold so much warmth towards you? more importantly, jean extended his hand without even meaning to, like muscle memory, which was, again, terrifying, because loving you as habitual purpose was scarier than you having to prove yourself for it.

your shoulders relax almost instantly; habitually and with purpose. was the purpose of it to not have a purpose at all? was the meaning of your being to not have any meaning at all? was it just to love despite it?

you wanted to do good. not in a special or overly remarkable way, because you knew you would never reach that mark because you never had, but in the way where you'd be recognized. in crowded rooms, you'd be sought out for because of your "goodness" - be it reliability, comfort, all the things you usually associated with jean. which was ironic, because noone who didn't know him like you did would ever think of jean in that way.

"i.." you say, trailing off. you want to say that you know, but it'd be a lie. it'd be a false promise, and jean didn't need that any more than he needed you. so you say, "I'll keep that in mind."

jean doesn't buy it. his hand squeezes yours, stubbornly. "no, i don't want you to keep that in mind, I want you to want to do it." he says. his head turns towards you, watching the side of your face with an expression you know better than anything. the slight furrow of his brows, slightest scowl on his face that was masked by a layer of genuine concern.

"what I mean is.... you don't have to be so hesitant with me." he says. you want to blink back surprise, except that it's not really surprising. he's seen you, more so than anyone ever has, so it's not surprising that he'd see if one day was affecting you worse than the other days. it makes you want to scream because you don't know how to deal with it.

you close your eyes as if that would help. it wasn't like you were good at running away from affection, mostly because you never needed to. if anything, you were used to running towards it, desperately, just trying. but here it was, now, the resolution of it all, of all of the aches and creakings of your deepest yearnings, yet you couldn't seem to look at it. look at him - at jean, your best friend, someone you'd do anything for - with eyes that matched his.

you sigh. there's a deep silence, and jean isn't anticipating anything. his hand is still on yours and he feels you squeeze it tightly, but he isn't going anywhere for you to hold on to him. even if he wasn't tethered to you, he'd want to stay by your side, without any precautions or promise of a fruitful result. he'd stay with you regardless.

he isn't waiting for you to say anything, because being with you feels more than adequate, like it's instinct, like his shoulders relaxing when it's just the two of you, or like that tingly feeling in his chest when you kiss his cheek after a long day.

but when you do speak, it's with resignation and certain grief. "i dont think you'll like me. if I... if we move in together, I think, realistically, you won't like it."

"how can you be so sure?" he asks. it's not a serious question, but he thinks it's a start. you're doing it, you're being less hesitant, and atleast that's somewhere to begin.

"i just am." you say, shrugging. but it's not a fact, atleast, it shouldn't be. it isn't to jean. he's rolling his eyes now, but he's not annoyed or digusted. "how?" he presses, because he knows there's more, there always had been with you.

"i get too much. and then too little. like none of it is ever just right. and I'm scared that you'll see it and...I don't know, get frustrated at my lack of everything." you say. there's truth in every word even though you desperately wish there wasn't. you're still hesitating, but it's less so. your hand is still in his, still squeezing it. it was predictable - something you found yourself relying on - the warmth of his palm and the way his hand would also engulf yours with the same echoing softness it always had. even if his fingers were calloused and a little rough, it didn't matter. they still held you the same.

he's clinging onto every word you're saying, every small explanation, every twitch of your eyebrows. he knows what's going to come, he knows there's going to be an admission of guilt coming on soon enough but he also knows, more importantly, that he'll be there to tell you that no, he does not regret loving you, and yes, he will keep doing it over and over and over again.

"I've never been... wanted like this. or like anything, I guess. and I'm so scared," you breathe in deeply, keeping your tears at bay. jean pushed himself onto his forearm, looking at you in a way you've never been looked at before. "I'm so scared of disappointing you because I think that's all I've ever done. that's all I know how to do." the box is open now, and it's not forced or pried with effort. jean has always known how to open it, you think, you just didn't let him. he does it now, with the same hands you find comfort in, the same gentleness that his eyes have always held for you.

you're crying. you don't have anything else to add to your statements, and they hang in the air as if waiting for you to complete them, expecting you to do something. but you don't and you can't and jean is holding you, his hands are at your sides and your nose is buried into his shoulder and you think the words and the expectations can wait for now, or for however long jean is willing to take care of you.

your shoulders shake. jean is whispering into your ear, asking you to breathe. he's saying it so kindly that you feel the need to comply, and when your lungs finally calm, he rewards you with a kiss on your forehead.

you think if how much of a liability all of this is. about how much you weigh in emotions when you're this open and vulnerable. not even like an open, unhealing wound, but more like that feeling you get when you finally decide to read an unread text message that had been sitting there for a month, but you're the person who both sent the text and also the one replying to it and also the one who was watching it unfold. you caused this, you were the only one who was replying, and you were also the witness to all of this.

but now jean was here. it was unusal and strange - someone being there, actually, physically and mentally present instead of those placating "you'll get over its" that were repeated to you by the few people you decided to open up to.

the two of you are silent now, only broken up by deep, almost heaving breaths from you, something you wish you would stop doing. instead of you digging your nails into your palms like all the other times, your nails are clinging onto jeans clothes, and he doesn't seem to mind. instead of it being your blankets like all the other times, it was Jean's soft heat wrapped around you, moving with each breath you took until your chest didn't feel as heavy anymore.

"i know." he says, finally. he doesn't expect you to answer, ofcourse, but he knows you're listening because you shift slightly in his arms. "i know...too well, what it's like. i know that moving in means more to you than it means to people in general. i know that it's not even about moving in together. i.." he's being hesitant. finding the right words, but for once, Jean's happy about this trait of his. he's glad he rethinks decisions and the next time when he tries again, he's more sure of it. hes sure that he loves you, hes sure that he wasn't made to love you but he grew into it because there's that choosing again, the fact that yes, he did probably have a choice, but he would never even consider it. he doesn't want to consider it and maybe that's more important than there even being a choice. he wishes he could put it into words that would make sense.

instead, he opts to say, "I am so sorry you had to think all of this all alone for so long. but I'm...I'm here now. i know that won't solve everything instantly, ofcourse it won't, but I will be here until it will. i will wait."

there's promise in his voice, a conviction that you hadn't heard before. you trust him, you always have, but you don't know if you trust yourself with this. you don't trust yourself to be someone he loves. he's quick to quiet your concerns after yet another peck on your forehead.

"but don't you think I take too much?" you ask. its doubtful, the steps you're taking on the usually thick ice that has turned too thin too fast. you're afraid you're going to offend him, but you stand no chance against Jean's all-knowing sigh. it's not a tired sound, not one anyone gives before they're about to give up. you're not sure what kind of sigh it is, but jean doesn't let you figure it out for yourself because he's answering.

the ice turns into concrete. he's become your footing, the reason you're still standing and not under numerous feet of cold water. "i dont think you're taking. your....your love doesn't ask to take. you love despite everything, not because of it. everyone, including me, focuses on how to be loved, on how to be a perfect image that probably won't last for too long, but you..... you focus on shaping your love, the love you give. i dont know if you've noticed it, but you do. you don't take too much, you give without expectations. you give with hope. it's beautiful." he pauses. "you're beautiful." he says. he's not looking anywhere else but your eyes that are welling up with familiar tears.

you suck in a breath. "im not used to sweet words, jean," you say, the breath you held releasing with a bittersweet smile. "i dont know how to handle all of this love you're giving me. i think... i think you love me too much." another tear down your cheek and onto the mattress. jean wipes away it's remnants.

"i dont love you nearly enough." he says with the same laugh you had given him, "but you'll grow into it. just like how you grew into everything else, you'll grow into being loved. i grew into it too," he says. his forehead touches yours. the proximity makes you shiver. "i grew into just how much you love me. and I wanna keep growing into it because I love loving you. i love you loving me, as selfish as it sounds."

you take a moment to register his words. yes, you weren't used to being so vehemently and stubbornly loved and taken care of, but you could. you could get used to it, get used to crying in your beloved's arms, being fed spoonfuls of carefully heated up soup that would settle into your belly, being looked at for more than a split second. you couldn't fathom it now, sure, only because you could've never believed it before, but that could change. you could grow into loving love, into accepting it just as freely as you had given it.

jean wasn't holding you with a death grip because he knew that you wouldn't leave, atleast, he didn'tanymore. he would've done it, he had all the reasons to. if he were still fifeteen, he would've thought that he had to come beg and cling on to love to make it stay. he had to do something spectacular, something entirely not himself in order to prove that he was atleast worth giving a try but with you...he didn't have to beg. he didn't even have to ask. for a while it felt undeserved, all of this care you were giving his somehow beating heart, all of this ointment you were providing to his broken bones, but he somehow, miraculously, grew into it, because he let you in. he let you see him with the eyes that would rival the ones he was sure the gods had, he let you see him and all his unknown and unsaid sins and let you love him anyway because you wanted to, because you didn't see something in him - a potential of something greater - but you saw him as he was. as he is. and nothing in your smile changed. and if you could do that, then he'd be damned if he didn't love you the same.

no words were said after that, only Jean's heartbeat mingling with your own in your ear. both of your eyes were closed, his hands relaxed on your back, your chest no longer heaving, commanding you to pay attention to it.

you fell asleep in the silence of promise.

---

the promise continued even a week later, turning into two, turning into four, wherein jean kept loving you despite and because of, unafraid and unwavering and for the first time, without any hesitance.

you were keeping up on your promise too. trying to accept it - all of this affection, his affection - without hesitance. it was hard but mundane things usually are and you continued to grow and mend and try, above all else, which was more than jean hoped for.

he's passing you the brush he had slathered the perfect amount of toothpaste on, slipping into the comfort of the cool night warmed by the heat of your previously taken shower in your bathroom. you smile at him as a thanks, and he nods as a welcome, and no words are spoken. no words need to be spoken, and his right hand makes its way to the small of your back, his left brushing his teeth as you start brushing yours and you think that maybe everything is uncertain. everything always has been and always will be, and loving someone has always been uncertain, too. being loved has always come with doubt and guilt and shame. but the only difference was that now, both of you hoped. you hoped that everything would be alright in the end, jean hoped that he'd get to share the same bed as you in the end.

hope was flimsy and hopeless, too optimistic, but now it served as something you both shared. the shared sentiment of hoping that you'd have eachother till the end was more important than the uncertainty. it meant that both of you would keep trying. you don't need to be sitting, waiting patiently and hopelessly at the same crossroad now, because Jean's hand is on the small of your back, the watch on his wrist is still and unticking, and you're walking down the same road with the same landmarks and the same gravel because you want to. you've moved from your old spot on the pavement because you want to. you're learning how to love the sound of your own footsteps, how to love the action of one foot infront of the other, and the best part is, Jean's learning too.

loving isn't a reciprocal or a transaction or a grand 'aha!' it's an act of hope. hoping they'll see you the same. hoping they'll have the same hopes as you. hoping they'll want to be loved by you, because hope doesn't require anything grand, hoping doesn't require a god to pray to or a cost to pay. it requires soft, undettered, unsaid patience. something jean, persistently, had. something you, stubbornly, held.

you paused from brushing your teeth to look at your love. you were wearing his old t-shirt that had faint stains of ink and old paint on it, and he was donning the headband you had owned for years to keep his hair out of his face. he glances at you through the mirror, then turns to you, nodding to you, eyebrows arching in a question.

you spit out the toothpaste into the sink. looking back to him, you say, with all the conviction and hope you can muster up, "I want to move in with you."

jeans mouth turns upwards, still full of toothpaste. he doesn't say anything. he doesn't need to say anything.

everything's already been said, already been understood.

because he knows you. and he couldn't be more happier to.

(when you pick the curtains for your new home, you are held up by jean, who's hands grasp the ladder you're on. you're looking down on him after the work is done and he's smiling, and you're smiling, and at night you're using the same stove to make the same dinner that the two of you will share along with some old wine and old stories. he holds you when you fall asleep, and your arms are around his torso as he snores softly. your love is stored in the blood of his veins. his love is stored in the palm of your hands, and even if you don't hold it, it still stays there, unmoving, growing, attached.)

✿

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

OK OK OK OK OK. wibby thoughts. wibby bisection thoughts. we could just like vivisect him this time. fucking shit like that. have his guts and stuff all over the forest.

as i've said ummm. fucking around with passengers Is gonna come up a bit at some point (doesn't feel like a spoiler to say? i mean. bonesaw is Literally Here) so i won't say much, but bonesaw literally does say in snare 13.9:

so. yeah!!!!!!!!!! yeah!!!!!!! that could fucking happen!!! if the trickster has control over someone like bonesaw who is capable of doing that!! (would he Want to though? there's no like. secret well of planeswalking power in him here. would he just do it for fun????!!!!) and. ough. ok. let this one cook for a while ok there's a part u need to get to in worm that's relevant. i think this could go very hard i like it a LOT but i legally can't talk about it very much!!!!

ALSO. as i just made a post about. he could literally just get trapped in muse's area of effect during this final battle and get. um. well. really anything could happen to him. honestly the pulling him in half clicks really fucking well with this i think because that really does feel like some cartoon nightmare shit.... get yoinked!! & because it's dream logic he could still get put back together just as easily... he could be like. alive and aware the whole time it's happening. u know. wheezing bloody exposed lungs that aren't Working and aren't Doing anything and they should have stopped by now his heart is fallen out it should be stopped but it's still squeezing and his eyes are still moving etc. this would also be like. reminiscent of his trigger event (laying helpless and paralyzed and in immense pain for many hours in the middle of the woods that want to kill him). ik u have second trigger thoughts. shrug!! maybe ashe has a moment of lucidity before the field drops and goes OHHH GOD OH FUCK because wraith is just. strewn across the ground torn apart like a doll that yr dog got to. etc etc etc.

ANYWAY. thats what ive got so far what have u got!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 👀👀👀👀👀

AHA. YEAH. LITERALLY WIBBY FRIDGE IN THE FOREST. okay okay okay we are cooking we are in the kitchen together just throwing ingredients into the soup. I'm obv not going to comment on the passengers thing until I read some more of worm (btw quick side note the s9 had a cameo in the last interlude I read and I got so ridiculously happy to see them again. extremely nervous about yhem cloning themselves (???????) though. although i kind of hope they are so that it'll give me more ideas about tide. anyway.)

HOWEVER. I DO REALLY REALLY LIKE THE GETTING CAUGHT IN THE BLAST ZONE VIBE but something that hits so hard about that event in canon is just. how. Direct And Personal it seemed. like. he Did That while holding him in the air and telling him to not be afraid bc it'll all be over soon. that's so much. I love the wibby getting caught in the fucked up breaker effect but also i think it should be DIRECTED at him. reasoning behind this i don't know why yet. but I'm sure we can think of something sufficiently harmful.

god dude i didn't even CONSIDER the dream logic of it all. we literally don't even have to kill wibby we can just have him awake and alive and aware of it all. wow! awesome! and dakota can try to push him back together and he would be aware of this and trying to talk to him but his fuckign. everythign is ripped open so he can't exactly talk now can he !!!

I do have SO MANY second trigger thoughts and I do think this is so fucking perfect as a second trigger moment exactly bc of what u said abt laying helpless (ESPECIALLY if we have dakota trying to fix him because. hey he didn't trigger the first time until people came to get him. lol. lmao, even.) and i HAVE actually put a good amount of thought into what his powers would look like after this but i cant tell u until youre done w pd AUGH. also hey having ashe be lucid for a second sucks even more because he'd drop the breaker effect. the only thing that could feasibly put wibby back together in this state is ALSO the breaker effect. so he fucking panics because hey wow i just did this and the only way to fix it or undo it is to . go back to being a horrible little puppet or whatever. do u know what I mean

side note I think wibby needs to have a brutal gross awesome scar from this. i can't talk more about this until you finish 39. smile !!!!!!!!!! what the fuck dude.

[commander-rahrah]

So do I! I'm glad Astarion is patient with them although he does tease them XD I love the idea of him embroidering little designs whether it's stars, moon, or something else! It sounds adorable 😊 I would definitely adore letting him have the first pick of new clothes! He deserves it & it would help him separate from his past too 🤍 Thank you for sharing your thoughts because I love it so much :)

Here's my idea that I would love to hear your opinion! Just to let you know this is quite self-indulgent XD What if Astarion had five things about what GN!Reader does that frustrate & confuse him (but he's secretly grateful for it)

1. They always make eye contact with him unless there's something that requires their utmost attention

2. They always remember what he said to them like a book he mentioned briefly that he wants to read but can't find so they worked hard to find it for him or they asked if he doesn't mind continuing what he was talking about earlier before there was an interruption

3. They always ask for his consent even if it's something he suggested because they're familiar with forcing themselves to do something they don't like or they're used to being presented with the illusion of choice

4. They always thank him whether it's something like shooting down an enemy while they're too preoccupied or helping them carry some stuff

5. They won't touch him unless it's for his benefits like quickly removing a leaf from his hair that he keeps missing (that's how they know because they noticed his stiff expression & how tense his body is briefly when they did for the first time) or pulling him to safety

What do you think of it? I'm curious :3

Okay, tumblr definitely lost this one -- so sorry about that anon!

I think that with most of these, the biggest thing would be Astarion realizing that you actually are perceiving him. Seeing through any of his careful masks and facades he puts up. A lot of these things are ideas I've been slowly exploring in my fic series as Tav/Astarion's relationship grows, but I can definitely share some little thoughts about them before I post my bigger thoughts in my fic aha!

I would imagine that Tav/reader continuously making eye contact with him might make him nervous at first - he would try to figure out what you were trying to do, if you were trying to throw him off or something. Once he realized it was just because Tav/reader was genuinely interested in what he was saying, listening and watching… his mind might betray him a bit. Why did you focus on him so much? Did you like what you saw? What if you didn't? I think its something he would have to get use to as he let his guard down more and more, and began to trust Tav/reader

I think he would be floored the first time Tav/reader did something like this. If he made some off the cuff comment about wishing he had better reading material, and then the next night there was a little stack of books sitting in his tent. If you did it again, he would maybe ask in a teasing way, but secretly really really wants to know why you're doing this, "What's the big deal? Trying to bribe me?" and being even more confused when Tav/reader shrugs and tell him that they thought of him when they saw it or remembered him bringing it up. This would make him even more confused and probably tell them as such. "You get more puzzling every day."

The always asking for consent thing is actually a scene I already have written for my series Talking to the Moon - but a bit of a snippet of how it will go is essentially him getting exasperated as Tav once again asks "May I?" and he goes "Do you insist on asking that every time?". "Yes, Astarion. Every time." And even if it was his idea, I think Tav/reader would still ask. He might roll his eyes, "Darling, it was my idea." But you would explain that he can always change his mind, that consent given or promises made before can change, that in the moment it could change. That you never want him to feel like that with you, not ever, not again. So yes, you will ask every. single. time.

Gratitude is not something he is used too. His master made demands, not requests. There were no thank yous expressed to him, not ever. I think he would probably mask this one better then any of the others, flipping his hair and replying in his sassy voice that "you owe me" or "yes, I am quite something, aren't I?" But every thank you you gave him, probably healed something inside him

I think that post-confession, Tav/Reader would only ever touch Astarion without permission if it was a matter of safety, like pushing him out of the way of an arrow or for a spell, etc. And before he could say anything, they would start profusely apologizing, not trying to explain it away but then Astarion would shush them, reassuring them that he was alright, "It's okay, I'm fine. We're okay, I promise."

[julia-bunncat]

Shuichi's Love Hotel {LSE} | Amasai version

Hey, hey, is that a new blog entry?! Unbelievable… But yes, after a hiatus in my life that excluded writing or even interacting with people, I was finally able to build up the energy for a new little creative achievement! Over a year ago, I did this post here... And now I am officially ready to present to you the full version [so that my intention can finally be understood correctly], using my OT3 of course.

I'll make a little remark before I start, and give a commentary at the end!

The blue text shows the thoughts of the main character (Rantaro), just like in the original game. You can either read the text version below , or take a look at this google-doc [https://clck.ru/3Ehn5n] to check out the sprites I've chosen specifically for the immersive feel of the game. Both would be appreciated, as I've put a lot of work into the google-doc!

Go ahead!~

Rantaro: Monokuma said that once I get here, I have to act like someone’s ideal or else my partner will wake up in pain… Rantaro: Knowing him, I'm sure it's not just a bluff. I must be as cautious as I can, especially since… Rantaro: Shuichi... I must admit, I wonder what's behind his title as the Ultimate Detective. Shuichi: Thanks for coming, Rantaro. Rantaro: He seems a bit nervous, but so far it appears to be going on as usual. Shuichi: I know you never refuse to talk to me... Shuichi: But I must say that we will have a serious conversation this time. Rantaro: That look on his face… Rantaro: Hey, am I being interrogated, aha-ha-ha? Rantaro: Is this really going to be a classic detective-criminal plot, huh? Shuichi: N-no, I… it’s not that serious. Shuichi: And honestly, I don't want to hear the word “interrogation” again. Shuichi: It’s just… I just wanted to say that I believe it's important to be more open to each other. Rantaro: It seems really important. If I don't play along, he might wake up. Rantaro: So what exactly is bothering you? Rantaro: If you want to know something, you have to ask. I wouldn't hide anything. Shuichi: ...This is exactly the topic that bothers me. Shuichi: You and I have been together for quite some time now and… Shuichi: For me, that time is priceless. You always know how to support me, how to cheer me up and set me on the right path, but... Shuichi: Each time, I feel like I'm missing something. Shuichi: You give everything to help me, but you never open up about your troubles. Shuichi: Your bright beautiful smile doesn't bring me joy in return. It makes me believe it's all insincere! Shuichi: It seemed to me that there was some kind of connection between us… That I can also be a support for you… Rantaro: What..? Rantaro: Hey, Shuichi... Please calm down a bit, okay? Rantaro: I wouldn't deceive you… Our… relationship is important to me as well. Rantaro: It's just a bit complicated, you know? There are some things you don't… Rantaro: Suddenly, I felt Shuichi's tight grip on my sweatshirt. He’s pulling me closer… Shuichi: Please trust me. Shuichi: Open your heart to me. Shuichi: Maybe I’m a failure as a detective, but for your case I’m willing to try. Shuichi: Watching you struggle all by yourself is killing me. Rantaro: Shuichi, I… Rantaro: Now, I'm not even sure if it's all a dream. Shuichi's eyes were so piercingly intense that I couldn't tell where the limits of reality are.  Rantaro: I can't play along or dodge any longer. Rantaro: Honestly, out of all people, he is the one I can trust the most. And it’s not about talent. Rantaro: All right, I'll tell you. Rantaro: But don't write yourself off anymore too, okay? Shuichi: He-he, yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll admit, I'm a bit of a mess. Shuichi: I always get… a little more sensitive when I'm around you… Rantaro: My cheeks were touched by a blush for the first time… Rantaro: Stop. Hold on yourself, Rantaro, he’s a guy! Rantaro: Then shall I start? It’s about… Rantaro: Shuichi smiled resolutely… and prepared to listen to everything I had never trusted anyone before.

_________________________________

Now, let's get to the notes!

Honestly, in my personal opinion after re-reading it several times, text came out raw and short. However, I still want to share it the way it turned out, since it was the first time I tried my hand at it. Yeah, the drama here develops a bit too suddenly, but that's what most love-events were like, wasn't it? Shuichi in canon also had some kind of emotional attack and lost control of the situation, especially when the characters themselves were caught… active :'D I tried to both to keep that vibe of absurdity and not overthink it. It worked out, according to my friends, so let it stay that way.

The purpose of this text was, for the most part, to show Shuichi's ideal as I see it. They is still the same gender-neutral person ‘with a core’ who has been in a relationship with Saihara for some time and has been supportive and proactive in every way possible.

However, this ‘core person’ tends to hide behind their confidence/principles/beliefs; tends to show that they feels better than they really does. Over time, this begins to bother Shuichi. He feels that something very important is being hidden from him, and he can't continue to ignore it — either as a good partner or as a detective.

So in the love-hotel storyline, Shuichi finally decides to talk to this person and get them to trust him. So, I emphasise that you can fit almost any DR character under this formula, as long as they're not completely weak-willed/indifferent/easy-going.

I'm even thinking of writing a version with some more characters in the future (the same Kaito, for example) or I can accept requests. The formula and phrases will be repeated, but the outcome and context will change depending on the character used.

Going back to Rantaro, I thought he was quite fitting for the role of the ideal with a strong core inside and a supportive character. He was, of course, very wary at first and a bit confused... xD But it's assumed that in the realities outside of the Hotel, he and Shuichi have become friends and that's why he decided to tell him one of his secrets. Whether it's a story about the sisters, the previous killing game, or something else — you decide! My plan was for him to tell something else 👀.

BTW, I didn't plan for Shuichi to cry here, it's just that the other sprites aren't emotionally charged enough for that, so I had to choose the lesser evil. think of him as just holding his head and clenching his teeth.

oh, and how could I not make a joke about this and make a reference to all the events where Rantaro denies his gay panic? xD hush, dear, Shuichi's charms just can't be resisted, you'll have to accept it.

Thank you all for reading guys! <3 There will be a second post in this series!

[askfreesmart]

If Match gets out of the TLC/LOL...

Here are questions for each Freesmart member about Match;

Ruby, are you going to be happy your other mom is finally free?

Bubble, what would you first say to her?

Book, what do you think of her being free, and the fact that the alliance is now complete?

Ice cube, are you happy with that?

Pencil... Are you finally glad that she's back? If so, go on and kiss your wife, she's waiting..

"So um, as you guys have seen from the post Ruby did WITHOUT PERMISSION."

":3"

".. Match has been freed. There's been some, uh, complications- but we're sorting it. So, with our tiny bit of free time, here's an answer for this! We're probably late but who cares.. Uh, you guys can go in order. Ruby?"

"Other mom?? She's not my mom! I just call Pencil mom because it annoys her!... Though it might annoy Matchy tooo... GOOD IDEA!! I CAN'T WAIT TO CALL HER THAT WHEN I SEE HER AGAIN!"

"What I first said to her, uh.. What did I say? I think I just asked if she was alright. That was my priority, and still is honestly."

"Okay! Um. Honestly? Ugh, I was so nervous. She's- well? She wasn't the best. Pencil wasn't either, but yknow, time passes, people change, of course! So, Pencils gotten more friendly.. I guess me and Icy were just a bit worried about being excluded again. But with everyone back, it does feel nice.. ish?"

"I'm still deciding how I feel."

"Yeah! Uh! Match isn't acting all like.. Her? I mean being locked in a box for that long can do things but... My god."

"And I will be IGNORING my question for how ridiculous it is. Honestly, where did you get the idea that- ugh, you know what. Let your imaginations run wild. I'll go check on Match. I hope she hasn't broken anything..."

(Cough hack wheeze hasn't been over 10 days no... Just saying hi here aha I'm at school and realized fuck I have to do an answer so here THIS is! And officially, the girl, the legend, the icon, Match is free! WOAH! And you guys oh my god I had too much fun planning how she was gonna be.. She'll be her amazing normal self soon she's just a tad bit mad from the LOL so enjoy that HA anyways BYEEE SO SORRY FOR NEGLECTING THIS BLOG 💀)

[fluffyfelixx]

Distraction (SFW) (Young Justice)

Summary: Wally just couldn't have his friend sulking anymore. He needed to do something about it.

Word Count: 1,460

Author's Note: Hi! Here's me ignoring canon stuff again... Basically imagine this taking place during season 3 when Dick really starts to have his leadership role solidified. And Wally is still here! (God I miss him...) Also beware, this is like super cheesy, I just felt like writing a bit more of a simple plot.

Also, hello to my 9 followers! Wow! I'm back after like.. exactly a year. I am so sorry you guys, thank you for sticking around. The past year to now is the most busy I have ever been, I got a full time job and it's really taking up my life. I used to be able to write so much more... I'm gonna be so slow now... But... I'll do my best!!! This is one I've had for like 2 years, I just cleaned it up because I really want to post... Next I need to actually finish my sequel Wri/Neuv fic...

-------------------------------------------------------

Dick had been in his room at the base for quite some time, sulking, after their latest mission didn’t go so well. Various members of the team tried to visit, wanting to check on him, and he would send them away.

Eventually, Wally had enough, and phased through the molecules in the wall to his room, appearing inside, wanting him to feel better already. “Hey, man!”

“Wh-” Dick was sitting on the floor. He started, surprised to see him. “Oh. Wally, I appreciate you, but… Please leave me alone.”

“But I don’t want to! You’re all mopey and I can’t have that. I hate it when the team gets like this. It was just a mission!”

“...I…” He trailed off, not sure what to say in response.

“Well, I brought you some stuff!" Wally held up the bag he was carrying. "Snacks and drinks. I got your favorites!"

Dick looked at him with appreciation. "I don't want those right now, but thank you."

“Okay.” Wally put the bag onto the table next to his bed, then sat down on the floor next to him.

Dick sighed. “Do you want something?”

“Just to see if you were okay. You need a distraction! Come on, what would get you up and about?”

“...” He was honestly blindsided.. Wally had a way of being vehemently supportive without really trying.

“Come ooon!” He reached and put his hand on Dick’s shoulder and squeezed, trying to be comforting, which caused him to flinch and jolt slightly. Wally noticed and took his hand back, apologising. Dick waved it away.

After seeing his reaction to being touched, something in the back of Wally's mind came forward. He acted on it, knowing he’d probably get chewed out later, but.. It would be worth it.

“Well, fine. If you’re not gonna try to feel better… I have to do this myself!”

Wally essentially pounced on him, knocking them both flat, but he scrambled up and sat on top of Dick’s legs, pinning him down. Dick stared at him, adrenaline causing him to freeze. Wally grinned at him.

Dick started to try to say something, maybe a plea, as he figured out what was happening. But Wally acted fast- because of course he did- and got right to it, giving Dick no chance of preparation. He started prodding his fingertips into his ribs through his thin muscle shirt. Dick inhaled sharply, trying to jerk away, but unfortunately didn't get anywhere.

Wally exclaimed gleefully, “Yes! It works!” He stopped to grab onto Dick’s wrists together and hold them against the floor as best he could.

Dick was nervous, he knew exactly what was coming. He was already getting flustered, “Whatever you think you're gonna achieve by this… Don't…” He started trying to take his wrists out of Wally’s grasp, but he was so focused on what he might do next that he couldn't fully concentrate on removing himself.

“Aha! So you don’t want me to keep going! Which means it affects you! Maybe a lot!” Wally grinned and started prodding into his ribs again.

Dick yelped, “No, no! Stop–” and twisted about some more. It was increasingly difficult to do much of anything with the sensation setting his nerves on fire. He couldn't help it, a wobbly smile started to force its way onto his face.

Wally squeezed up and down Dick’s side, and he convulsed as he desperately tried to stay quiet, the feeling building in his chest. When Wally started to vibrate his fingers, Dick couldn’t resist anymore and broke instantly, tossing his head back, strangled laughter and protests spilling out of him. “AH-! Ahah- Hahahahahaha!! Nooohohoho, don't!! Wally!"

“Aww, there, was that so hard?” Wally asked, nonchalant.

Dick honestly didn't know when the last time he experienced this was. He acted confident as much as he could, but he was still insecure about quite a few things… This was so embarrassing. Wally had such an advantage with his speed, this vibration was way too much. And he was just really good at this! It was so unfair.

He continued to squirm, not able to do much else. Normally, he would have easily rolled away or some such thing, but it was impossible to put effort into it in his current state. He was just.. So... Embarrassed...

Wally targeted his stomach next, digging into his abs, flimsy shirt doing nothing to protect him, and Dick shook his head, jolting reflexively, his voice raising in pitch, laughter leaving him in fits. “NO, nonono!! HaHA- Ahahahaha!! Wal- HAH- Wally! St-Stohohohop!! AHahahaa- Get ohohohohoff!!”

He could hardly think about anything except how much he wanted to get away, but he was rendered pretty useless by the torment.

“You know, I didn’t think this would work so well,” Wally said casually, changing it up and going lighter, skittering his fingers up and down. “I thought for sure you were stronger than me.”

The change of feeling sent him into uncontrollable giggles. "Nonononono- HEHhehehehehe-" He managed to get out, “Sh- Shut-" It was really hard to talk. “Sh- hEH- Shut up!!” He was too busy trying to curl into a ball to come up with something better.

“Oh, yeah?” Wally smirked. “Says the guy squirming around helplessly. You aren’t even trying to push me off or anything!”

Dick couldn't retort, and all but screeched as Wally had started attacking his abs again, making his way down to his hips, then shifted himself to access his legs better.

“I ca- I CAN’T–” He was entirely unable to say anything further, and he went into frantic cackling when Wally got his hand under his shorts to knead up and down his thigh. Something about that drove him batty. (Pun intended!)

“AH! NONONO!" He shook his head rather desperately. "FUCKfuckFUHUHUCK- Ple- PLEHEHEASE!! HAHAH- Fuck!! HahahahaAHAHAA!!”

The amount of writhing he was doing nearly made Wally fall off, but he managed to stay stable enough to keep at it.

"Ooh, this is a good one, huh?" Wally grinned at the sheer sensitivity of his friend. He hadn't ever done this before- with these results, he would definitely be employing it in the future. Dick couldn't respond to his quip. He was starting to wheeze and fade into shaking silently, hardly able to breathe.

After a few more moments, Wally noticed him losing energy and realised he might have gone too far. He stopped his attack, hoping he would be alright.

Dick gasped for air, twitching a bit. Wally got off of him and watched, concerned. Dick caught his breath after a while, and then quickly got away from his attacker, rolling over backwards, sitting against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest. “...Ugh…” He groaned, burying his face in his knees, just exhausted.

Wally was a bit worried. Did he hurt him?

“Are you okay? I’m really sorry if I went too far.”

He spoke into his knees. “That… Fuck. That was… Horrible.”

Wally grinned. So everything was just fine. “But I achieved my goal, you’re not sad anymore!”

“...I hate you so much."

“Ha! You just hate that I’m right! ‘Cause I’m right! It worked!”

Dick only nodded in response, completely sapped. He didn’t like admitting it, but it was true. That whole experience had completely put everything out of his mind. Although now, he was just stuck feeling self-conscious.

Wally seemed to know what he was thinking about, because he crawled over next to him and sat there. "Dickie... For what it's worth… I think that was really nice… You don't laugh much."

"O- Okay…" Dick fidgeted with his hands. "...Man, using your speed like that was so, so not cool…"

"...Admit it though, it worked great!" Wally grinned triumphantly.

"I can't- even- I can't believe you." But he couldn't stay mad. "Fine."

"YES-"

Dick lifted his head and glared at him, "Don't start."

"...Okay, yeah, deserved." Wally put his hands up in resignation, still grinning.

He waited maybe 10 seconds before getting right back to teasing him. He couldn't help it. "I'm gonna have to do that to you more!"

Dick put his head back on his knees. The flustering was endless. "I'll kill you…"

"Well, you'd be too weak to do anything about it, as demonstrated just now!"

"Just-" He couldn't think how to respond. "Ughhh... This is not fair!"

"Heh, I know, that's why it's so fun!" Wally went and sat against the wall with him, then wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. "Come here."

"...Fine." Dick allowed it to happen, then slowly realised how much he needed it. He had really needed everything that happened...

"Wally?"

Wally had Dick in his arms, nestled into his chest.

"Yeah, Dickie?"

".....Thank you."

"Any time!"

The two ended up falling asleep like that.