#and by mentally I mean that if she had actually lived long enough to experience the Tragedy

[ninjagirlstar5]

Star, stop changing Tamami's design challenge (impossible).

No, for real, I think this is the fifth redesign I've done of her character. I don't know why but the past designs I've made for her just weren't satisfying to me for some reason. Some of the designs I decided were just bad or didn't suit her while the others were similar but I just didn't like how it looked (tank top, large sweater, scarf, the rainbow bracelet and a long skirt). But I...think I've finally landed on a design that I liked the most out of all the ones I've made so far. (Please let it be the last. Please, my brain and heart. I would like to settle on a design and move on!)

ANYWAYS, I used Teruya's DRA sprite as a base for Tamami since, well, she is his mom and she's about as short as DRA!Teruya (or maybe shorter, I don't know, the wiki gave me two heights for his DRA self. I decided she's about 4'8'' to 5''). So it made sense to use this sprite for her, even when I made slight adjustments to her eyes and nose by making the eyes a little wider and bigger and the nose a bit more pronounced as DRA!Teruya's nose is very small. Out of three of the five designs I've made, I kept this short hairstyle of hers with a large ahoge as I loved this style the most and didn't want to change it. I based her bangs off of SDRA2!Teruya's length and style and the back of her hair like DRA!Teruya's, but I changed the way the strands looked so that it'd look more like her own hairstyle but you can still see the resemblance between the two of them. The ahoge, though, is very much real, unlike Kojiro's and Teruya's (they canonically style their hair like that on purpose), and she cannot fix it no matter how hard she tries. So she just gave up and let it be. Tamami got stuck with the protagonist trait, even though she died before the events of Danganronpa, lol. I've never been a fan of fictional kids looking like carbon copies of their parents. Like, you have the meta-power to design these kids anyway you like and you just make them look exactly like one of their parents? Unless their look-alike appearance is plot relevant, it's just weird for them to look so much like one parent that they can easily be mistaken as siblings and has zero resemblance to the other. And that's saying a lot coming from me who looks a lot more like my Irish dad from skin tone alone, but even then people can tell that I'm at least Asian because of my facial structure and even asked as such, tying my appearance to my Filipino mom. I don't know, I just like seeing a mix of traits for the kids to have inherited from their parents, you know? So, since Kojiro already has a design with green hair and green eyes, I decided to have Tamami have a different hair color, gray and green, but she also has green eyes, just a different shade. Teruya inherited his mother's eyes while getting his father's hair. Since I headcanon Teruya to have freckles, Tamami has freckles as well and as I mentioned before in this post, I adjusted her skin tone to be more obviously tanned instead of dusty from my older drawings of her. And then there's the outfit, which is a dark gray tank top, a long denim(?) skirt, dark reddish-brown boots, a blue handkerchief scarf to match with Kojiro, and a big fluffy yellow sweater with a checkerboard pattern that is tucked into her skirt, and long puffy sleeves that hangs off of her shoulders. The rainbow stripes on her skirt and the rainbow bracelet ties her design to Teruya's as he wears a rainbow as well, and I thought it'd be a neat idea for them to have a similar love for rainbows even though they've never met (cause she died via childbirth). The thought of Teruya still inheriting some of his mom's mannerisms and traits even though they never officially met scratches my brain in a good, angsty way. I wonder what Kojiro thinks whenever he recognizes parts of Tamami in Teruya...And that's it for Tamami's design! Hopefully it'll stay this way.

Tiny characters that can beat the shit out of an enemy that's much taller than them will always be peak character design, you can't change my mind on that.

[sparklemaia]

Heyyy!!

So I've recently read a lot of your comics about top surgery, and I really resonate with your experience (I haven't had it myself but I'd like to). I've recently been exploring my own gender and realising I might be non binary, but I guess I feel sort of an imposter in that I want to keep my name and pronouns (afab), despite feeling like I never got the memo about what a "woman" is, which I know is fine, but I guess I was wondering how the shift from your agab into realising you were nb felt?

Like, you seem to describe your gender as sort of unknowable and indefinable, and I guess that's sort of how I feel? I just want to be... More me. I guess what I'm really asking is, how would you define/feel about that shift into realising you were nonbinary, do you still feel connected to your agab, how do you reconcile the two?

Sorry for the long ask!

Hi, this is such a good question! I actually DO still feel pretty connected to my agab. I feel like I am a girl but also more than a girl but also not enough of a girl, simultaneously. (Weirdly, I never ever feel like a woman, and definitely not a man, but I do feel like an adult at least some of the time.) Top surgery was 100% the right decision for me; my body feels so much more correct and I am grateful every single day this procedure was accessible to me. (I was on a low dose of T for a year and a half too, and I basically just got biceps and a sliiiightly lower voice out of it. We stan.) I simply don't have strong feelings about how these things do or do not map onto gender identity or other people's perceptions of my gender. I am generally perceived as female, and that's fine! Like, close enough! I often feel somewhere BETWEEN cis and trans, or even between cis and nonbinary, and sometimes I joke that I'm just "nonbinary for insurance purposes." I mostly use she/her pronouns, although won't object to they/them. I like my "feminine" name -- I chose it myself years ago for reasons unrelated to gender and I have no plans to change it again. In terms of gender presentation I'm usually somewhere in the "tomboy femme" zone. Basically, I've been through a medical transition but not a social transition. Which is not very common, or at least I haven't seen much representation of it! (Be the bad trans representation you want to see in the world, i guess??)

Even though the words are often used interchangeably, I feel more alliance to genderqueer as a label than nonbinary, because nonbinary feels too clinical and "third checkbox"y to me, whereas genderqueer feels more expansive and undefinable and dynamic, with space for the ways in which I both am and am not performing girlhood correctly. When pressed to pick a gender word for myself, that one feels the closest. But if I'm filling out a government form or whatever? Yeah sure F is fine.

A lot of where I land with this stuff, though, is just kind of relaxing my grip on language. Top surgery was a relief, it helped me feel present in and connected to my body. Ultimately it doesn't matter much to me how much of that was *gender* dysphoria and how much of it was just... something I wanted, a way to make my body feel more like mine, to align my mental image of myself with the thing I had to stuff into clothes and walk around the city every day. I believe very strongly in bodily autonomy, and in making our lives as easy and comfortable and joyful as we can for ourselves, without needing to have a clean and tidy explanation for our choices. It is very possible to know with reasonable certainty that you want something, that it will be a net positive for your life, without being able to articulate, even to yourself, WHY you want it. It doesn't need to have a bigger meaning than ahh yes, this feels right. At this point in my life, I'm more invested in marveling at the sheer improbability of my own existence than in wedging myself into the taxonomy of known and acceptable gender narratives. I'm just a person, here for the merest twinkle of a moment in cosmic history, making soup and knitting baby hats and admiring bugs and singing off-key and cutting my own hair and doing my gosh darn best to light my tiny patch of night sky with stories so that you (and you, and you) feel less alone on your own journey through the unfurling dark. Gender is just such an inconsequential detail in the narrative of my life, and pretty open to reader interpretation anyway.

Not having to wear bras is pretty great though ngl

[captainsophiestark]

I Made You Breakfast

Kai Parker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Summary: Kai's on his apology tour, and Y/N is his next stop after things didn't go too well with Damon or Bonnie

Word Count: 2,000

Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed to myself as I headed downstairs in my favorite pair of sweats, mentally making a list of everything I had to do today. It was an unfortunately long list, compounded by the latest supernatural drama, which my friends insisted on dragging me into. Bonnie had finally made it home from the prison world, thankfully, but that didn't mean any of the drama in our lives had gone away. In fact, it had almost doubled, with news of Damon's mother floating around in another prison world somewhere. I got halfway through an eyeroll at the memory of everything going on lately when I stopped dead in my tracks.

I could smell bacon, eggs, and toast wafting up towards me from the kitchen. Someone was here, in my house, cooking breakfast. And with everything going on lately, I knew for a fact it wasn't one of my friends.

I glanced around, grabbing a stake off the nearest end table. No vampire should have been able to get into my house unless they were a friend I'd already let in, but I'd had enough near-death experiences despite that fact that I was constantly prepared.

I crept towards the kitchen, trying to listen for any signs of trap or trouble. All I could hear was a faint clinking of plates. If someone had seriously broken into my house, why the hell were they just hanging out in my kitchen making breakfast?

I got my answer a second later when I burst through the door, going for the element of surprise, and found none other than Kai Parker standing before me.

"Oh, hey!" he said, jumping and spinning to face me with wide eyes. "You're up!"

"...Yup. And... you're here. In my kitchen. Making breakfast."

"Yeah! I hope you like it. Here, let me get your plate. I thought I'd have a few more minutes."

With that, he turned to the stove and starting scooping scrambled eggs and toast onto a plate. I just watched him, not moving an inch.

"Kai?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing in my house?"

He turned back around to look at me again, his eyes wide and the plate half-finished in his hand. After a moment, his expression morphed into a sheepish grin. I just blinked at him, my expression unchanging.

"Well, after I merged with Luke, I started getting all these... feelings." He said the word like somebody else might say 'zits' or 'rash'. "And one of those has been guilt, for some of the stuff I put you through. Or I guess, your friends, mostly. I tried apologizing to Bonnie earlier, and... it didn't go well."

His expression darkened, and I frowned. But a moment later, the clouds apparently cleared, and Kai fixed me with a beaming smile again.

"So I thought I'd try again with you. In the Prison World, I saw Damon making Bonnie breakfast all the time, and she seemed to really like that. So I figured you might, too."

I just stared at him for a few long moments without saying anything. I turned my options over and over in my mind, trying to get my still half-asleep brain to make a rational choice. I probably should've been incredibly freaked out that Kai was here at all, but I'd actually had a few positive interactions with him even before the whole merge thing, and had kind of started to like him. Or, at least, started to think he had some ally potential, despite other things he did. We'd even bonded over music taste and his new fascination with social media, and he'd tried to help Sheriff Forbes, although it hadn't necessarily been out of the goodness of his heart. For some reason, I just couldn't muster the fear or anger I probably should've been feeling when I looked at him in my house. Finally, I sighed, my mind made up. No reason to try to force bad feelings when they wouldn't come on their own, right?

"Thanks, Kai," I said, actually meaning it as I moved over to the dining table. "Aside from the fact that you broke into my house to do it... that's actually pretty sweet."

He beamed at me, and I found myself returning his smile. He turned back around to finish making my plate, and I shook my head. This was absolutely ridiculous, but I couldn't say I minded very much.

"Here you go!" he said, setting the plate down in front of me with a big smile. He didn't move away, just standing off to the side and watching me expectantly. I picked up my fork, but didn't take my eyes off Kai.

"...Aren't you gonna join me?"

"Oh! Right. You know, I've been practicing how I was going to do this in my head all morning, and now that I'm actually doing it it's like I completely forgot everything I was planning to do. That's weird, right?"

I shrugged. "I mean, sounds like a normal part of being nervous to me."

He nodded emphatically as he returned to the table and sat across from me with a breakfast plate of his own.

"All these new... emotions from Luke have been, like, super weird. I don't know how you all deal with these all the time."

"Eh, yeah, they can be annoying sometimes. It gets easier with practice though, and I'd say on the whole they're a positive experience."

Kai nodded thoughtfully, taking a bite of his eggs as his gaze wandered around my kitchen. I took a few bites of my own food, and I had to admit, he was a surprisingly good cook.

"So..." I started. "Was this it for the apology? It's a great breakfast, but usually an apology has a little more attached..."

"Oh!" Kai's attention snapped back to me. "No no, this isn't it. I was planning to do the other part of the apology while we ate breakfast."

"Makes sense. Go for it."

He cleared his throat and shifted around in his seat, then met my eyes before hesitating again. I tried to look encouraging as I ate my eggs, and after a moment, he nodded to himself and continued.

"I'm sorry for trying to kill your friend, and testing out my power on her. And that I couldn't save your other friend's mom, even though I really couldn't do anything about that. I still... I still feel bad. And honestly, I'm mostly sorry for everything I've done that hurt you, even if it was indirectly. I... I actually really like you, and so, uh... I don't want you to hate me. I keep getting this stabbing pain in my chest when I think about it... or when I think about that time I saw you crying over Bonnie..."

He trailed off, staring at the table instead of me, apparently lost in thought. After a moment though, he shook his head and cleared his throat, looking back up to meet my stare again. His blue eyes were wider than usual, his eyebrows pulling together, and he looked to be in actual distress for maybe the first time I'd ever seen, at least when his life wasn't being threatened.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I promise not to do anything to hurt you again. Will you give me a second chance?"

The corner of my mouth quirked up in a smile, especially at the rare senserity in his tone. I knew my friends would have quite a few things to say about this decision, but I didn't let myself think about that. At least not right now.

I sighed. "Kai, despite the fact that you broke into my house, I'm going to believe you about this whole 'turning over new leaf' thing. I... I'd be lying if I said I didn't like you too. So, if you really mean what you're saying about not hurting me or the people I care about anymore?"

He nodded so fast I was actually a little worried about him.

"Completely serious. Cross my heart and hope to die. I'm ready to join the Mystic Falls Scooby Doo team for good."

I smiled, laughing a little and shaking my head.

"Well, okay then. I can't promise anybody else on the team will be quite as easy to convince as me, but... I forgive you, Kai. I'm happy to see you like this. And, by the way, you make some very good eggs and toast."

"Thanks. I had to get good at cooking, you know, alone in the Prison World." A shadow passed over his face again, until I reached across the table and lightly rested my hand on top of his. Then, his face lit up like the sun. "And thanks for giving me a second chance. I promise, you won't regret it."

I wasn't totally sure I believed that, but I decided not to say so. Instead, I smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling back.

After a moment of silence where I could see Kai vibrating with the desire to say whatever he was holding back, he finally blurted out the other thing he'd apparently been planning to ask me this morning.

"So... I might be a little rusty about how all this works, or if it's changed since the eighties, but... would you want to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?"

I smiled, then buried my face in my hands. My friends would kill me if I said yes to this, but despite myself, I really, really wanted to.

"What's wrong?" Kai asked. I shook my head and looked up at him again.

"Nothing, Kai, I just... ugh, my friends are really not going to like this."

He smiled. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

I took a deep breath and let it out, then shrugged and matched his smile with one of my own.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it does. What the hell, right?"

"That's great! I was thinking we could go do karaoke? I've always loved karaoke. I got good at it when I was passing time in the Prison World."

"I have to warn you, I am very much not good at karaoke. But I'll still sing my heart out with you anyway, if you want to go!"

"Perfect! We can go tonight." I laughed, and Kai's expression immediately dropped. "Is that okay? Do you not want to go tonight?"

"No, Kai, I do. It's a little fast, honestly, but I don't mind. Why wait?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking. So... should I pick you up? Around seven? We could get dinner first, and then go."

"I think that sounds like a great plan, Kai," I smiled at him, which he immediately returned. A moment later, though, his hand shot up to clutch at his chest.

"Ugh, what is... what is happening to me? Why does my heart feel like it's about to explode?"

"That's probably excitement, Kai, or butterflies, which are like positive nerves. I'm feeling them too. It's because we're looking forward to going out together tonight."

Kai made a face. "This is what people were talking about when they said they got butterflies? This is terrible." I hid a laugh behind my hand, and Kai's eyes snapped up to mine. "Wait. You said you were feeling it too?"

I nodded, and Kai's expression immediately changed to a wide grin.

"So you're excited, too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

He nodded, the smile staying on his face as he dug in to his eggs again, glancing at me between almost every bite. I just shook my head, a smile on my own face all the same. This was going to be an adventure, going on a date with Kai Parker, and I knew my friends were going to want to murder me for it. But I couldn't totally bring myself to care.

Despite some pretty rocky history, I had a weirdly good feeling about Kai, from the moment he'd started his apology speech this morning. And so far, I'd never been wrong when I trusted my gut for stuff like this, even when it led me into karaoke. I had a good feeling it was going to be right about Kai Parker, too.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[karasbroken]

This tiny moment is one that I completely misinterpreted for the first decade or more and I still don't know exactly what I think but I'm going to ramble anyway. I played with filters to make the tie more obvious, because for the longest time, I thought Moya John threw scissors and Talyn John threw rock.

And that makes sense, right? They had two different experiences while they were parted for several months, and that made them into two different people. He talks later to Aeryn about not being the same person, and that her feelings, "you're just like him, you are him" are wrong. So I never questioned when my dark DVDs and fuzzy TV made it look like they tied.

But then I saw the 4k versions, and I was watching on a good screen and I could slow it down and pause and replay, and nope! They are both clearly throwing scissors. And the whole beautiful symbolism falls apart. Why did they tie? Does that actually mean they are the same person? Why doesn't John or Aeryn truly seem to believe that?

Everyone will have their own opinions, but how I think about it now is that this was a promise from Talyn John to Moya John. Yes, they had different experiences. Yes, that means they diverged. Yes, being with Aeryn changed Talyn John in ways Moya John couldn't (yet) understand. Talyn John feels older, calmer, more settled and mature in a rather dramatic way to me. But the tie is a reassurance that they are still both John. That they can be made whole. That the core of who he is, the man that loves Aeryn and controls wormholes is still capable of being loved by Aeryn (and learning to control wormholes). It will just take time.

We aren't wholly our memories and experiences. Which is reassuring to me, as a person who struggles with long-term memory formation.

John was twinned. "Equal and original." They are both him. They were always both him, even if he doesn't remember what the other twin experienced (yet). Moya John and Aeryn both struggle to believe this, though, for similar but related reasons.

Aeryn can't believe that he is actually John because she is terrified of loving him. She isn't mentally strong enough (yet) to survive his loss again and she knows that John is about to throw them all into terrible danger. She tries to convince herself that he's just a copy because she has to for her own sanity (but ultimately, eventually, she gives in. He is John, she does love him, and she can't won't stop herself from wanting to be with him).

Moya John can't accept that he is the same as Talyn John because it's just too psychologically weird. He was in two bodies having two different lives, and the whole time he knew, he deeply knew that the other guy was with Aeryn. Because he would have upended the universe to make it happen with her, so of course he did. A lot of Moya John's irresponsible and annoying behavior can be explained by the constant maddening awareness that his life was in the middle of being stolen by himself. For his sanity he has to create some sort of mental accommodation to survive being twinned, and turning the other guy into The Other is how he manages it. And then the Other is gone and now he's on this long journey to recombine his two selves.

I think the tie is a promise that they haven't diverged too far. That they're still both him. John doesn't realize it yet, but he is already starting to reintegrate his two selves. We will see him eventually, slowly, recover all the memories and knowledge that Talyn John possessed, he will even join together with him physically (it's not a coincidence that he injured his head in the same place, leaving the same scar, when Einstein unlocks the wormhole knowledge). Only when his integration is complete can he fully move on, marry Aeryn, have their child, and move forward to the next stage of their singular destiny.

That unification is something John can't even imagine in this moment. But the tie, that's hope.

[a-heart-of-kyber]

No, no cuz listen.

@dealingdreams and I have discussed how Qimir/The Stranger gives trapped animal vibes. And she mentioned how maybe it was something similar to Ben wherein someone spoke to him from a young age in his mind.

(Kylo theme plays in the distance)

(It literally also played while Kelnacca...had someone else...in his head.)

And idk where, but someone pointed out that his cave has those Cortosis veins. So it, or maybe even the whole island, potentially has a similar veil of protection as the helmet aka blocking thoughts/energy etc.

Which means, if that's the case, this dude is hiding and has been hiding for a long time.

He only seemed to take on the "Qimir smuggler rat man" persona because Mae wasn't doing what she was supposed too and he wasn't even sensed by the Jedi in the force. Overall, he probably assumed he had laid low long enough to go unnoticed without the helmet.

Then he made himself very obvious, and if someone were looking/feeling/sensing they probably found him. Aka, his display on Khofar led Plagueis to the Unknown Planet.

Cuz remember...the helmet broke. He didn't have it on for hours after that fight.

I am personally not going to assume EU stuff is canon until it is made canon. So, while it could be Bal'Demnic, that has not been confirmed. Additionally, just because it could be Bal'Demnic it doesn't mean Plagueis has tapped that resource yet. It could still be unknown to even him until right now.

Now, whatever happened between Qimir and Vernestra, we know she thought he was dead. Aka, he was either actually dead or very close to dead.

(Additionally, this would mean that he initially had no reason to hide from her if he could assume she thinks him dead. So, if he has been hiding, he's been hiding from someone else.)

Plagueis most likely scooped that boy up and treated him like a science project for a bit. Screwing with him mentally in the process (a nice bit of further Sith ideological brainwashing). Then, of course, Qimir became the Apprentice.

(This would make him a bit of an analog of Darth Venamis. Far from the same, but taking bits of him...but also, surviving/escaping being an experiment.)

Which could mean he has been fed the Sith code and the Jedi code by those masters, but he has already had traumatic experiences with Both sides...leading to this lack of care for rules/wanting freedom.

(Aka Power of Two, not Rule of Two "rules rules rules if you never follow them, you never have to break them.")

And Qimir has repeatedly been compared to a Vampire in interviews and has comments and imagery within the narrative that lean that way as well.

(The floating/disappearing, "it was a very long time ago", the implication that when Sol knew him Sol was probably a child...being carried away in a swarm of bats-I mean moths)

I know so many people think Plagueis is involved with Osha and Mae...but I don't think he is, yet.

At the moment, I still think he's there for Qimir.

(Also, I'm not really pro having this guy show up for 3 seconds and suddenly literally everything is about him and he did it all. If he already did everything, where is he meant to go within the narrative exactly? If he already knows how to create life and Has Created Life?...anyways)

I think he's checking in on his potentially immortal or at least inhumanly long-lived test subject... I mean Apprentice (who may or may not have actually been resurrected). And, somehow, said Apprentice has linked up with a woman who was created using the force.

These two are literally Plagueis's version of Christmas.

P.S. I think he wants an acolyte for exactly the reasons he said. We have been repeatedly shown and told that Qimir/The Stranger speaks the truth...or, at least, his truth.

But...this doesn't necessarily disprove my other idea that he wants to draw out Vernestra have her go against Plagueis so he does not have to do that.

Going back to the idea that both of these Masters are powerful and they have both screwed him up royally.

And despite this, he can still fight blind in the force.

He is extremely balanced for someone who realistically shouldn't be if he's fully dark.

[bubuslutty]

40-something Moon Man ROCKS the Dancefloor! (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!)

pairing: Marc Spector & Female Reader

word count: 4026

warnings: none

summary:

Marc Spector accidentally goes viral on TikTok after his uni student neighbour/friend drags him to the club with her.

a/n: i wrote this in a silly goofy mood and i love marc sooo much <3 Also I used Darling instead of Y/n cuz im funky like that.

“Please, Marc.” Darling begged the 40-something man while he tried to clean his flat.

“No.” Marc answered flatly, wearing a very washed-out and loose t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. His hair, now longer was tied at the back of his head in a tiny man bun.

“Why??? We’ll have so much fun and you need a night out to dislodge the stick up your ass.” Darling groaned and fell on her knees in the kitchen, ready to hold onto his legs and beg if need be. Marc sighed and ignored the 19-year-old teenager on his kitchen floor as he cracked another window open and increased the volume of the radio on the window ledge, BBC Radio 1 playing a Central Cee song in the flat as he picked up stray books, papers, food wrappers, socks and random junk, a bin bag clutched in one hand and a laundry basket clutched in his other arm.

Marc finally got himself to start cleaning his flat, he read that it would help his mental health to live in a cleaner space. That’s why she was over, she was meant to help him clean so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming on his own, and motivate him to get on with cleaning so he finished faster and could escape her non-ending yapping sessions. But now, it seemed like she was more interested in annoying him, which is literally second nature now, a natural reaction she had to him, annoying the shit out of Marc. 

I mean, he could literally kick her out, and scare her enough that she’ll leave him alone for good, he’s done it before, to other people. He’s tried, but she’s Steven’s friend and he can’t do that to him. And he knows deep down he actually enjoys her presence and would kill anyone that hurts her then himself. He cannot lie, the kid had a big heart and was incredibly kind and patient. He was a little jealous that her parents were able to make a girl like that because Marc knew he could never produce that level of goodness into the world. He can never come close. She was too good.

Marc dropped the basket on a chair and the trash bag on top of it, letting out a long sigh and putting his hands on his hips. “Why do you want me to go with you?”

Darling’s miserable puppy eyes immediately vanished and she got up from the floor, walking up to him with a huge grin on her face. “Well, first of all, you’re my friend, and I like hanging out with you.” Marc raised one brow and didn’t say anything.

“I found this club with great music and I really want to try it out,” Darling said shrugging.

“Why don’t you go with your friends? People your own age.” Marc asked, his arms now crossed over his chest. “People from my uni are… I never really enjoyed going out with them, sure, nothing terrible happened cuz we always stuck together but uh-” Darling tried to explain and Marc failed to understand why the hell she wanted him to go with her out of all people.

“I’ll just be in the way if I go with you. And I can always pick you up at the end of the night, you know?” Marc said and Darling frowned in confusion, “In the way of what?” 

Marc almost laughed in disbelief but held it together, “Don’t you want a boyfriend? No one will get close to you if I’m with you.” 

Darling looked unimpressed, “What boyfriend? You mean drunk finance bros with an Andrew Tate mentality? Plus, I don’t do hookups, I have anxiety, mate.” Marc was confused and Darling remembered he wasn’t as chronically online as she was, so he probably had no idea who the abomination of a man was.

“I just want the experience. I just want to dress up and dance all night without men I don’t know breathing down my neck.” Darling explained, picking lint up from her way too big t-shirt with a Pikachu plastered on the front, so she wouldn’t have to look at him in the eyes.

Marc understood and thought about it for a second before picking up the trash bag and walking to the area that was his kitchen and putting it on the floor, next to the bin. “You want me to be your bodyguard?”

Darling’s head snapped up, eyes wide, “No! I mean- Yeah, sure..” 

Marc pondered over the thought and asked, “When?” 

“This Friday.” Darling quickly answered, smiling big and all, excitement radiating off her in waves.

“Alright, but so you know, I don’t dance.” That’s also what Chad from High School Musical said but go off. Darling knew to keep her mouth shut instead of calling him out.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She squealed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Alright, enough.” He grumbled even though he was smiling, and ripped her away with his hands on her shoulders. “You won’t regret this,” Darling promised and Marc just nodded, he’ll see about that.

“Now, do me a favour,” Marc said, turning around and picking up two trash bags in his hands. “Take out the trash.” 

Darling groaned and Marc fixed her with a look and her shoulders slumped, taking the bags out of the door to put them downstairs.

🌙

“How do I look? Be honest.” Darling asked, standing in the corridors as Marc locked his door and shoved the keys in his pockets, his black leather jacket held in his other hand.

Marc straightened his back and analysed her outfit from head to toe. She was wearing a sleeveless, backless sparkly blue top paired with jean shorts and white trainers. Simply put, she looked pretty and it surprised Marc a little, he didn’t know she was capable of wearing anything but washed-out old t-shirts with unhinged slogans on them. It was an addiction at this point, she loved buying the weirdest t-shirts she could find on the internet. She even bought him a t-shirt once that said “I lactate”. And swear to God, Marc almost killed her right then and there. It’s still ranked as one of her “biggest Ws” whatever the fuck that meant.

“Not ugly,” Marc answered flatly and Darling grinned, that was Marc’s way of saying she looked nice. 

“And you look great, did Jake pick the clothes?” She asked, looking him over.

“No.” Marc lied and she giggled, because the one who dressed cunty every single time without fail, was Jake, and unfortunately, Marc didn’t possess the level of serve Jake did.

Marc was wearing a black short-sleeved button-up, unbuttoned at the top, where his David’s star necklace glinted against his tan chest, paired with black trousers and black shoes. Simple, clean. His hair was brushed back this time, but still, some curls fell over his forehead no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it.

“Let’s go,” Darling said after checking she had everything she needed in her small handbag.

The two decided to take the underground rather than Jake’s cab because it was faster than being stuck in traffic in central London. It was a bit busy and lots of people looked like they were heading to clubs and pubs for the night, dressed in all sorts of manner. Marc was honestly just looking around and taking everything in, he had never witnessed London’s nightlife like this, maybe saw some things from rooftops while tracking someone, but that didn’t count.

He saw an alarming amount of young men dressed in techs, standing in hoards. And girls wearing matching bodycon dresses. The underground station was hot, extremely loud and stinky. Darling was standing next to him, complaining about the prices that TFL charged. How ridiculously expensive the tube and trains were, even with a student oyster. He just hoped he wouldn’t get a nasty headache by the end of the night.

They hopped on the tube when it came, screeching to a stop, people spilling out of it in crowds. When they got in, they sat across each other as more people sat around them. And if it couldn’t get any louder, a man walked in with a big speaker resting on his shoulder and a cracked iPhone gripped in his other hand. “Bassline Junkie” blasted loudly as he sang along, and soon enough, a group of rowdy teenagers, around Darling’s age, started singing along too. Darling started laughing and Marc watched as the man started approaching them, goading the sitting people to get up and start singing with him. Darling got up and shouted the lyrics at some girls as they sang together. They somehow managed to drag Darling away from her seat, holding each other and singing loudly, multiple phones recording the scene. When they reached their stop, Marc got up and pulled Darling by the hand out of the tube before they missed it.

“BYE!” She shouted over her shoulder, laughing and breathing hard.

Marc let go of her hand and watched her put her hands on her knees, panting and straightening, fixing her hair and looking at Marc with bright eyes, “I’ve never done that before.”

He smiled a little, “Good job.”

“To the club!” Darling pointed in the direction of the gates, pulling Marc by his arm.

When they left the station, Darling let out a shuddering breathing, suddenly feeling very cold in the polluted crisp air of London. Marc noticed and frowned, “Don’t get sick.”

“Wow, thank you, Marc.” Darling rolled her eyes and started walking down the street, Marc following her behind. She turned around, walking backwards, “By the way, I have your jacket so I won’t get sick.”

“I’m not giving you my jacket, dipshit.” Marc said and Darling rolled her eyes, “Yeah, whatever you say.”

They spent 30 minutes trying to figure out where the hell that club was, bickering while following the map on Darling’s phone. At some point, she ended up locking arms with Marc after a rando whistled after her when she walked by and had to physically stop Marc from turning around and bashing the man’s face in.

When they finally reached the club, Darling was so excited and Marc had a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, guiding her through the crowds of people to the bar so they could get a drink in their system first and take in the place. “You’re paying, by the way,” Darling said over the loud music, taking a sip of her cocktail, this drink will probably be her first and last. She didn’t plan on throwing up on the pavement, and she wants to be able to remember tonight.

“You’re the one taking me out, aren’t you supposed to be paying?” Marc asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “I’m paying for kebabs later. 50/50, yeah?” She said and he hummed.

He looked around and noticed how a lot of people were dressed, it faintly reminded him of the early 2000s with twists to fit today’s fashion trends. He could tell that this was the look Darling was going for, then he finally allowed himself to actually hear the music and was surprised when Flo Rida was blasting from the speakers, the floor vibrating under the weight of the bass.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Darling said after she finished her drink and dragged him on the dance floor, drink still in hand. Rihanna was now playing and Marc was a little mortified because he doesn’t remember the last time he danced in a club. Darling gave him encouraging nods while she practised a Just Dance routine without missing a beat as Marc nodded to the music, finishing his drink and trying not to laugh at her and failing miserably.

At some point Darling got rid of his empty glass for him and ran back, almost crashing face-first on his chest if he didn’t catch her. “THAT’S MY SONG!” She shouted over the music and Marc immediately recognised the beat. It was that Usher song that even the aliens from outer space could recognise, the one and only: “Yeah!”. Marc was a little confused because he was sure as hell she wasn’t even born when it came out.

“I WAS BORN TO SERVE CUNT AND SLAY THE CLUB!” She shrieked and Marc knew she must be out of her mind because there’s no way one drink made her say shit like that. He was dragged to the centre of the dance floor and Darling started busting moves he never saw her do, and Marc had to admit, she was a good dancer. But he was a great dancer.

He ran a hand through his curly hair and watched her dance with fire in her eyes. Marc smirked. Alright , if this is how this is going to go, then so be it. He popped another button open from the top of the shirt and rolled his neck, getting his muscles loose, nodding to the beat. Darling watched him as she bounced with the beat and honest to God, Marc started krumping. Krumping in the club.

Darling’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets and she screamed in delight, hyping him up with her whole body, “I knew you could do it!” 

He was good. Really good.  

So good in fact that the people around them started to notice and the space between them got bigger, creating a clear space where they could see Marc and Darling better. Darling didn’t even notice, her eyes glued to Marc who was absolutely destroying the dance floor. She didn’t even notice the phones pulled out to record the scene. And when it looked like Darling was starting to lose against Marc, a random girl squeezed herself through the crowd, handing Darling her drink and started dancing battling Marc. Darling was losing her mind, laughing and having the time of her life. The crowd hyped both the girl and Marc.

Marc was smiling the whole time, his curls moving this and that way, now falling over his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His face was warm and his necklace kept constantly swinging as he ate up every single person who decided to battle him. In between songs, he kept being offered drinks while Darling kept complimenting his skills. She was proud to get him out of his shell and was genuinely so grateful that everything went as planned. But most importantly, she was proud of him.

Hours later, by the time they left the club, the two were walking down the streets, singing together to a Britney Spears song, arms linked and still warm and sweaty. Darling had Marc’s (Well, it was actually Jake’s) leather jacket draped over her shoulders, keeping her shielded from the cold wind. Meanwhile, Marc may as well unbutton his shirt all the way down and take it off because it was sticking to him and a huge, very generous chunk of his chest could be seen, still shining with drying sweat. His hair was a little crazy because no matter what he tried to do, it refused to stay still and he didn’t have anything to hold it with. But that’s alright, he looked very pretty and he had a great time to care about his hair at the moment.

The two made their way to the first kebab place they saw. “What do you want?” She asked, looking at the old and worn menu above the counter, on the wall. “A number 2.” 

“Bossman, let me get two number 2s and two Coke Zero’s.” Darling said and the man nodded, “£22.98, please.” Darling reached for her purse. “I got it,” Marc said, digging in his pocket for notes before she had the chance to protest.

“I was going to pay.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes, feeling tired.

“You can pay next time.” He said, patting her head.

“You always say that and you never let me.” She complained, leaning her weight against him, cheek squished against his warm arm. “Yeah, yeah.” Marc checked his phone for any notifications and scrolled a bit while waiting for their food to be done. When they got their food, they left the joint because there were literally no seats in there, you just collect your food and leave. Marc held the plastic bag in one hand and wrapped the other around Darling’s shoulder just in case she tripped, she didn’t drink much but she exhausted herself to the bone, and he didn’t want to end up in the ER looking after her.

“Do you want to eat in the tube?” He asked.

“No, I’ll get sick. Aren’t there any chairs anywhere?” She asked.

Marc hummed and looked around, spotting a park? A garden? It was really small and fenced, and in the middle, there was a big statue of a man Marc couldn’t recognise. He walked closer and saw that there was an empty bench inside. Perfect.

They got settled down, Marc unwrapped their food and Darling complained about the cold bench against her thighs. “Sit on the jacket.” He said, opening his Coke and taking a sip.

“But then my back will touch the bench.” She complained and Marc rolled his eyes.

“Just eat your food.” He said and they dug in.

They didn’t speak for a long time, both looking up at the dark sky. There were no stars to be seen due to the city lights, but they could see the moon and the clouds. It was as peaceful as London could get. When they were done, they collected the trash in the plastic bag but didn’t move, still sitting on the bench, looking at the moon together. “Uhm-” Marc spoke and Darling turned to look at him. As soon as she met his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut.

Darling didn’t say anything, just looked at him with an open expression, eyes heavy-lidded due to sleepiness. Marc licked his lower lip and parted his lips to speak but nothing came out. So instead, he opted for squeezing one of her knees in his warm hand, trying to make her understand what he was trying to say with his eyes.

He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he appreciated her taking him out with her. He appreciated her patience and kindness. He appreciated how she never judged him for being himself. How she was brave and strong and didn’t get scared easily. 

And Darling understood.

🌙

It was around 12 in the afternoon the next day when Darling got a text message from one of her uni friends. She frowned in confusion, she usually never received any messages from them during the weekends. She put her spoon in her cereal bowl as she chewed, and paused the YouTube video she was watching on her laptop.

Darling opened the message. It was two messages actually, one of them read, “Is this you?” And the other was a link. 

She suddenly felt scared as her finger hovered over the link, she was sure she had a good digital footprint. I mean, she had profiles where family and friends followed, and she also had separate accounts online where she caused havoc without revealing her identity. And she was sure there was no way anyone she knew in real life could find her accounts and link them to her. She was careful.

Darling opened the link and instead of loading in a browser tab, it opened the TikTok app. Now, what the hell is this?

At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at, but her brain caught on and she felt like screaming. It was a video of the day before, from the club. There she was dancing battling Marc in the middle of the circle. Her jaw was on the floor, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she looked at the likes and screamed because why did it have 2M likes?

Her finger pressed the comment section before she could think and was flooded with comments like “This is what I mean when I say I want to go to the club”, “Okay but why did he eat?”, “Where is this??”, “Get this man in a Step Up movie NOW”, “Goo Goo Ga Ga”.

Darling leapt off the bed laughing and scrambled out of her flat, phone in hand. She didn’t even bother to wear slippers and instead ran over next door, Steven’s door, knocking quickly. When the door didn’t open in a millisecond, she turned the doorknob and walked inside without bothering to shut the door properly behind her, “Marc, you have to see this!”

Marc was in bed, shirtless and wearing a pair of loose PJ bottoms, wearing his reading glasses as he read his book. Well, he wasn’t reading it now . He was looking at Darling with an annoyed expression. She ignored it and ran to him, but not without throwing a quick “Hi, Gus” to the tank. She dived knees first on his bed and he sighed, slamming his book shut and placing it on the bedside table.

“What do you want?” 

“Look!” She held her phone in front of his face and he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. Darling saw the moment he realised what it was, he grabbed the phone with both hands, a look of horror plastered on his face. “All of London saw the video. You’re viral, Marc.”

“Delete it.” He said without ripping his eyes from the screen.

“What?” Darling frowned.

“Delete it. Right now.” He repeated.

“It’s not my video. I can’t delete it.” Darling said and Marc dropped the phone in his lap, gathering his head in his hands, groaning. He truly had fun, but he didn’t know how he felt about all of London seeing this video.

Darling picked up her phone again, “I’m going to send it to DuChamp, he’s going to love it.” 

Marc screamed and ripped the phone away from her hands, scaring her. She got scared not because he had taken her phone but because she never heard the man scream before. “Give it back!” She said, trying to grab her phone but Marc didn’t let her. It was a struggle because not only Marc was stronger, way stronger, but he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt so she didn’t have any grip on him, except his shoulders and hair. But she knew if she even thought about pulling his hair he’d throw her out of the window. “I’m going to report the video so it can be taken down.” He said and Darling gasped, “You don’t even know how to do that! You never used TikTok in your life, boomer!” 

“Watch me,” Marc said through gritted teeth as Darling struggled against him, then she somehow managed to wrap her arms around his free arm and threw herself down on the bed, back first and swung her legs up to wrap them around his head, choking him. Marc let out a surprised shout, his eyes sent 500 million invisible daggers to Darling. He threw the phone down on the floor, out of her reach and lifted her off the bed, her legs still wrapped around his neck and she screamed when he flipped them around and slammed her down on the bed, head first, WWE style. 

The two kept wrestling and clawing at each other until Darling ended up in a headlock, Marc squishing her body on the bed with his whole weight, “Help!” She wheezed, clawing at him, trying to get away from him. “Quit it.” He hissed as she tried to kick him with the heel of her foot on his ass.

A cough startled the two out of their fight, both of them looked up and Marc froze.

“What are you…doing?” Layla asked, looking at Marc, then back down at Darling. She had her phone in her hand, and a big Tesco shopping bag in the other. God bless her heart, she brought her disaster of not-technically-divorced husband groceries.

“Oooh, is that the bad bitch you fumbled-”

🌙

Tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya @darlinglittledevil @anixluxtt @mrs-cupidd @gebgeb @poeticabomination

this work is part of the "I'm friends with the moon" series. You can read it as a stand-alone or delve deeper into this AU.

[ridl]

I really dislike the idea that just bc Ganyu is old she has experience with everything, like that's not how it works lol. And this includes serious romance, esp when she didn't even feel like she belongs in human society until recently + not everyone is desperate to date.

The way i see it she's been struggling with her identity and finding a sense of belonging among humans, as well as dealing with going against her peaceful nature during war, while also being someone who appreciates just being alive, and simple things in live unrelated to social stuff, and nature and Liyue as a whole. She has a lot of things to deal with mentally bc of her half-qilin identity, devotion to Rex Lapis and Liyue, and everything she's been through. I think she doesn't exactly need romance. And she has that mysterious qilin side to her, which we don't truly know or understand. It's perfectly fine for her to be a character that was never all that interested in romance, and doesn't have direct experience with it.

And there's really never enough time to experience and learn everything, it doesn't matter how old she is. I find making her this perfect, hypercompetent and experienced at absolutely everything flawless being to be very limiting. Why deny her the space to still learn and grow? I believe we learn all our lives, and it's the same for Ganyu. I mean, literally just look at her being completely perplexed by Keqing and Rex Lapis' fondness of her lmao. And the entire fact of their eventual reconciliation.

Ganyu somehow just couldn't ignore Keqing's existence, even if it was absolutely an option for a 3000+ yo half-qilin. Perhaps because Keqing was kind and truly did care about Liyue and its ppl, making Ganyu have very mixed feelings. She left a strong, hard to ignore impression. And so Ganyu eventually learned more about this human enigma called Keqing lol, and grew as a person.

And generally that's also how i see ganqing's relationship, neither of them rlly need romance, they're not desperate for it. Keqing has her own passions and dreams, she has her life figured out. Ganyu doesn't have her life as figured out so there's a lot to consider here. But they simply decide a romantic relationship witch each other is what they WANT!! Bc it does enrich their lives. They chose to do this, even if they never actually had to.

Long story short, yes Ganyu is amazing, talented and carries Liyue on her back, but she's also only human, and only qilin. Her being so old doesn't automatically mean she must have romantic experience. And she's still learning, growing and experiencing new things.

[emeryhiro]

Do you think Carol would have continued to stay with Ezekiel had Henry not died? For me, Carol's married era in the Kingdom is a conundrum - because on the one hand, I love that she got to experience some peace and happiness after being put through the wringer both emotionally and mentally. I love that she was able to save Henry and at least partly come to peace with the fact that she was able to find and save this kid - when she has lost so many in the past (which makes it all the more heartbreaking she has go through all of that again in s10 - I love s10 but it so emotionally hard to watch as a Carol fan). But - in the second half of s9 whenever Carol is shown in the Kingdom, it feels a little wrong - like maybe she doesn't belong. She is smiling so widely and brightly - and it is so great to see her lighthearted - but something somewhere just feels off. Even her appearance - her clothes - they don't feel like her. I can't quite pinpoint it. Or I could be just looking at it through shipper goggles. Lol.

I absolutely adore your narrative breakdowns of these two. I don't have much hope for Caryl in TBOC but I am definitely looking forward to your analysis of the episodes to come.

Hi Anon 😊

Thank you so much for the kind words! They truly mean so much to me 🩵🩵🩵

I already have my thoughts/breakdown of TBOC episode 1 written up, which should be posted as soon as episode 1 is released to everyone. I honestly can't wait for everyone to see it and get everyone's thoughts on it as well.

Now, regarding your question...

This is such a good question, and I really had to think about it for a bit to be able to express my thoughts properly.

The short answer is yes, but ultimately, no. I think Carol would have stayed with Ezekiel if Henry had lived, at least for as long as they were in a good place. I know that seems like a cop-out of an answer, but I'll flesh it out a little bit.

Carol was happy enough with Ezekiel, and she would have probably continued to be with him until their situation changed and they had to go through some form of hardship as they naturally would've at some point or another in an apocalypse. Even if it wasn't for losing Henry, there would have been something else that would have pulled them apart because despite them being happy enough, their relationship lacked the depth to withstand severe adversity. They loved each other, but they weren't IN love, if you know what I mean.

If by some miracle they didn't face any hardship of any kind, then yep they probably would stay together for two main reasons (and trust me, this hurts my Caryl shipper heart to say):

Loyalty/Convenience: As we've seen, Carol is an incredibly loyal person. We don't know Ezekiel as well as we know Carol, but from what I could tell, he seems to be a very loyal person as well.

Trauma/Sacrifice: The only person that Carol would hypothetically leave Ezekiel for would be Daryl. But both Carol and Daryl have experienced way too much trauma to actually come clean about their feelings, not unless something huge happened to push them to do so. Daryl would never ever think he's good enough for Carol, or that he could make her happy compared to how Ezekiel appeared to make her. And Carol would feel the exact same way about Daryl, and she'd also be content with (as you said) the peace and happiness of staying with Ezekiel because she would never think she deserved anything better than that.

Ultimately, the perfect circumstances that would have kept Carol and Ezekiel together are near impossible in the world they live in. Starting a family with Ezekiel and Henry definitely helped Carol heal from some of her past trauma with Ed and Sofia, but ultimately the deeper traumas and wounds that she had yet to face and heal from (as she will in TBOC) would have never healed if she stayed with Ezekiel. They would have eventually been naturally pulled apart because neither is made for the other.

I also think that Carol always sensed/knew that her relationship with Ezekiel had an expiration date, and she had probably prepared for that inevitable end from the start of the relationship, while Ezekiel on the other hand, was less willing to accept that their relationship was at its end when Carol tried to return the ring in S9EP16.

Regarding Caryl...

I honestly don't blame you for not having much hope for Caryl, especially with all the mixed messages being sent around with the current publicity campaign. And I'm not sure if this will mean anything or change anything for you, but I'm personally still confident that canon is where we're heading. And as I've said in my previous posts, especially in the summary section of my last one (here), it makes sense (at least to me) for them to wait until season 3 to finally make Caryl officially canon.

I'm just gonna fangirl here for a second, but I believe (since the first time I saw them 12 years ago) that Carol and Daryl are soulmates, and I don't just mean platonic soulmates, but soulmates in every sense of the word. So, in my mind, based on all the evidence I've seen, one way or another, they will be together in the end. But like I said, that's in my mind. The final outcome for Caryl depends on Norman and Melissa's vision for the characters, which I understand may not align with mine, but I trust that no matter what they end up giving us, it's still gonna be a fantastic story ♡

~~~~

Thank you again for the really interesting question ♡♡♡ I hope my answer made sense and got my thoughts across properly.

I can't explain how excited I am about TBOC and seeing Carol and Daryl in the same frame again. ONLY 19 DAYS TO GO!! 🥰🎉

[expectopatronum18]

Unpopular opinion

Ron and/or Hermione should have died in the deathly hallows. And I say this as someone who loves these characters (probably Hermione more than Ron), but here me out

Now let's be fucking real, I really like ron, but he really wasn't skilled or prepared enough to fight in a war against voldemort, be it magically or mentally. And that's ok! He's still 17, he's not meant to be fighting a war. And to some degree he probably knew that the chances of him actually making it were pretty slim too. But he still stuck with Harry anyways coz there's no way he was going to let his best friend go through with this alone. Because that's who ron is, he'd rather die fighting beside his best friend, for his family, his muggleborn gf and for the cause than play it safe and hide.

Now coming to Hermione, things get a tad trickier here. Yes, she is very skilled and powerful and quick on her feet. But is she powerful enough to take on an army of adult DEs who've trained for years and have experience from the first wizarding war? To win against the darkest wizard who ever lived, who's said to be worse than Grindelwald, who's the most powerful wizard in the whole world after Dumbledore? No, I'd say she isn't. Because she's also fucking 17, she's not even done with school yet. But I think she'd live longer than Ron, or that there's a better chance of her making it out alive. But if she did die it would be extra heartbreaking coz a) Harry (and the readers) just lost 2 of the people who had been there from the very beginning, b) Hermione's parents would live on in Australia, not remembering that they had a daughter, not knowing that their daughter gave her life in hopes of saving her friend and creating a better world.

I majorly have 2 specific reasons for being this sadistic. The first one is the fact that the plot dumbs down it's main villain and his followers just to make the kids win. Voldemort (during Harry's time) is probably the dumbest villain ever written, he doesn't live up to his hype. People have already discussed how stupid his gof plan was. In ootp, during the DoM fight Lucius says that voldemort can't come get the prophecy himself coz the ministry is filled with ppl and he would risk revealing himself. But it's possible for 6 mostly dumb teenagers and an army of DEs, (who hv just escaped azkaban and are sought after by the ministry) to enter in undetected? Doesn't 👏 make 👏 any 👏 sense. The supposedly feared DEs who were trained by voldemort himself can't win against a group of teenagers. It's surprising how long it takes them to take the kids down in the DoM battle. The thing is though, this is out of character for ALL of them. It seems like they were dumbed down just so the MCs could make it out alive. Voldemort during the first WW started out as absolutely no one to having the highest class of the wizarding society obeying his every command. The whole wizarding world was so afraid of him that they wouldn't even say his name. The DEs picked out member after member of the original ootp, mostly coz they were outnumbered but also coz they're fucking death eaters. And ur telling me these guys can't fight kids? Pathetic. Also it doesn't make sense that most of the adults from the first war are dead but all the kids live. Like did the war become safer or sm shit? Instead i would have loved it if the trio got away with things in the first few books, but then realised what a war against voldemort actually means later on. But they won't back down, and they'll still stick with their friend and fight for each other and the cause anyways, and that vil have real, legitimate consequences

Now, the second reason is that it would have been an amazing but heartbreaking callback to book 1. Ron sacrifices himself in a game of chess and Hermione says that there are more important things than books and cleverness, like friendship and bravery. Ron's line of "It's you who has to go on Harry, I know it! Not me, not Hermione, you!" would have also come full circle. Back then they were still 11, so they could still get their happy ending. Now they're in a real war and the stakes are higher, but they'll stick to what they started anyways. Ron sacrifices himself so the other 2 can move forwards, Hermione's intelligence gets her further but she still needs to part with Harry. Harry needs to leave them behind and face voldemort alone because that's how it was always meant to be

And finally, it would have given us a more bittersweet ending to the series instead of that vanilla 'all is well' epilogue. Harry has lost almost every one he loved. But there's still life, there's still hope, and he lives by cherishing their memories and making their sacrifice have meaning. Kinda like the ending of the hunger games. Ik this is a kids book, but Harry Potter as a series is incredibly deep and deals with a lot of fucked up shit, so I think it could handle it if it was written well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[alymccart]

Ask du jour because I’m in a lot of feelings right now and need a diversion from them and because I stayed home for a mental health day and have time to ask: Back to First Time, I feel like there’s a whole analysis or chapter behind Charlie’s words to Vaggie about their connection.

“It's been a long time. And I... uhh, I've never had this kind of connection with anyone before. This is... more intense than I was expecting.”

I’d love to get into this more because here’s Charlie, who is this being that shouldn’t even exist- or it’s unimaginable that she exists- and is astronomically powerful and probably as wise as time and space due to her connection with the cosmos (even though the show never talks about that but it has to be true? Maybe? I’m overthinking? I mean, I can’t imagine one could live as long as Charlie has and not have some wisdom). And Vaggie’s just a dead woman, right? Just a dead human woman (who I fucking love so much, this isn’t a criticism). So for Charlie to feel a connection with someone so much “less” than herself and for it to shake her enough during intimacy, Vaggie must be powerful herself. Maybe not in the same way as Charlie, but damn. She must have some kind of soulmate-level power over Charlie. Like they’re written in the stars and, in this one instance, Charlie is meant to be completely powerless.

Makes me wonder, as I am wont to do, how Vaggie’s story will evolve both in your fic and in canon.

Anyway, I think that’s enough word vomit for today. But also thank you? You don’t know it but writing these thoughts helped quiet a small feelings storm in my head.

TT^TT Another fantastic ask.

I really REALLY do feel like there's more to Vaggie than the show has shown us so far, which is why I'm attempting to kinda-sorta foreshadow that in my fics. I have no actual idea what exactly that "more" is, and I may end up being way off base, but I want to believe. Although the alt version of their first time that's going to be in Hellfire goes a slightly different direction, the same general scenario still plays out.

I definitely agree with your assessment about Charlie's power. She's the daughter of the first demon in hell and a very powerful angel (in my fic I'm going to with Lucifer being a seraph, though that isn't confirmed as far as I know), so there has GOT to be more to her than what we have seen. I'm going to bet there's some angel qualities that'll crop up as the story progresses (maybe she'll get wings!?). I also feel like Charlie is treated like a child in the show way, way too much. Until it's confirmed in the show, we don't really know for sure that she's over 200 years old, but going on that assumption, there is absolutely no way she's as naive as people seem to think she is. Sheltered? Maybe a bit, but she's a busybody, so there's no way she spent all of her life cooped up in a palace or something. So, my fic/headcanon Charlie has been around. She wants to help, she wants to be involved, she wants to experience things; she wants to make Hell a better place and to do that she needs to learn everything she can about it. Considering the fact that she's a one-of-a-kind royal hellborn demon and more-or-less impervious to permanent/killing damage from just about anything around her (save for strong angels like Adam and angelic steel weapons, and Carmilla is not stupid enough to sell them to someone who wanted to hurt Charlie because Lucifer would shred her to pieces) there's not much reason for her to be overly cautious.

"Soulmate-level power" is one way to put it. I really feel like Charlie and Vaggie's connection was at least catalyzed in their mutual desire to see this whole "redemption" thing through. For Charlie, it's to help her people. For Vaggie, it's partly to prove that she herself is worthy of redemption and partly to help end the cycle of death altogether. Murdering all of those Sinner souls and only questioning it after thousands had died, then thinking she had done the Right Thing and immediately being mutilated and abandoned by people she trusted as a result really effed her up, imo, and she's obsessive about making up for it. I think after that initial spark, Charlie sees someone she can truly believe is her equal, if not in power, but spiritually, so she is willing to let her guard down. She's comfortable showing that side of herself to Vaggie, and Vaggie is comfortable with that side of Charlie, so, in the context of First Time, it ends up being harder for her to hold back (and maybe a bit of unconscious "I don't want to hold back" that she has to fight for fear of hurting someone she believes is a squishy Sinner demon).

I'll see how things play out as the fic progresses. I've got a general direction set, but things like to crop up and throw me off course as I write (which I love, tbh). Thank you for the thoughts! Getting to really mull this stuff over out loud is really helpful. :>

[purity-town]

Ask responses below the cut! Digging into Andrew/Alalia's immortality, the doll, and the design of the town/region it's in.

Yeah!! (To both questions!)

Although the blog header image is a screenshot from one of my playthroughs, it’s just a random one that I thought would fit nice enough -- I haven’t actually built out any of the comic’s locations in-game. I can share a couple of rough thoughts I’ve had how it would look, though!

As far as Purity Town itself goes:

Purity Town is located in the forest/purity biome and has the background of the lake and snowy mountains.

The Tavernkeep, Merchant, Nurse, and Clothier have shops in the main part of town.

This center area is paved in stone (think Pelican Town from Stardew Valley) and has a slightly raised area (think like a fountain design) for the forest pylon.

Andrew lives out on the edge of town more in the woods, and a little ways past his home is a fenced overlook that looks down on everything.

The Zoologist also lives slightly outside of town with the Golfer, but in the opposite direction.

All of Purity Town is built in soft, rolling forested mountains/hills.

Most of the buildings are constructed from wood and brick, but with the exception of the tavern are painted different colors.

Since I’m on the subject -- as far as the general locations go, Purity Town itself is the largest settlement, but there are several other, smaller villages linked to it through the pylon network. NPCs generally live in their favored biome when applicable, with the exception of some of the hallow/cavern biome enjoyers living in Purity Town proper instead.

The snow biome village is located up in the snowy mountains visible from Purity Town, and an unnamed village is located by the sea.

The desert village is built around an oasis.

The jungle village is built around platforms elevated just above shallow pools of water. The area is surrounded by dense foliage from mahogany trees.

There’re currently no cavern or glowing mushroom villages/pylons.

Andrew is fully, 100% aware of the existence of the doll, and is roughly familiar with its limitations. He was present for its making, and though it’s since been lost to him, he has a general idea of what happened to it (being a powerful item that fell into the hands of a demon).

He’s not particularly happy about it, nor is he really in a position to try and get it back, but it’s been a number of years since the doll’s creation and he’s learned to live with it. At least the doll’s existence means Chris will be able to use it as a proxy, rather than Andrew having to be there in person; it provides a little mental separation for both of them.

For Alalia, she came into existence years before the Moon Lord first appeared, when the world was more wild and dangerous than the modern day. So I don’t think it’s out of the question that she died a couple times from assorted beasts and the likes, particularly while she was new and inexperienced. While a violent death is never fun, being a creation/aspect of Terraria likely made her resurrection experience itself less unpleasant than it otherwise would be, and upon being revived she was a bit shaken up but otherwise unharmed. She would have had other Dryads to comfort her, which helped -- they’re functionally immortal beings, and through their long lives most would have died and been revived at least a few times.

And then the Moon Lord appeared, and suddenly when they died, they didn’t come back. The world is different now, and no new Dryads have manifested since, though Terraria has recovered to a point where she can revive Alalia when necessary.

Andrew’s first death was accidental -- he didn’t know the ins and outs of how his whole “thing” worked, nor did he really understand how important he was that he’d be resurrected where few/no others were. I’m not totally sure when his first death would have been, but probably relatively early in his life -- his mother/mentor still being alive at that point, and him still living in his home village. Him still either assuming he’s entirely mortal, or slowly beginning to suspect unnatural longevity.

Resurrection is unpleasant at minimum, a natural consequence of one’s entire self being pulled back into the living world -- depending on the circumstances, the experience of being revived can be worse than dying proper. Though from an outside perspective, the affected simply appears and reawakens in their home some time after death.

I imagine Andrew didn’t even register what had happened at first; I don’t have any specific ideas for what killed him the first time, but upon waking up he very well could have dismissed everything as fever dreams associated with a near death experience. Assuming that someone had saved his life, only to learn he had truly, actually died. And then having to process all of the implications of that, and his own trauma, and deal with his family, etc…

Andrew has never been outright blasé towards his own deaths, and tries to avoid it where possible; outside of the obvious inconvenience/discomfort, he’s still a human (more or less) and isn’t above basic instinct. But he knows now that he’ll be resurrected, and in the case where it does come up, he brushes it off publicly as a consequence of him being a Guide. And when push comes to shove, he'd rather he be killed and resurrected if that can prevent someone who is mortal from dying in his place.

[cupcakeslushie]

Were there any experiments that could have risked Three's life?

There were, but Draxum knew what he was doing for the most part. Most of the testing started out monotonous and endurance based. It was only as Three grew older, and Draxum grew more desperate to gain headway on his research that he pushed the experiments past what Three could handle physically and mentally.

The vivisection was the worst, because of the pain, and because Three didn’t follow Draxum’s aftercare instructions and a whole plastral scute had to be replaced when infection set in. It’s probably the most rebellious thing Three had ever done but the consequences were bad enough that he learned his lesson.

Draxum is a lot worse than in canon so there’s not a lot of happy memories…but I think I’m gonna slightly edit something I’ve said earlier, which is that Draxum doesn’t validate Three’s intelligence at all. The more I think on it, the more I think that would be about the only thing he finds Three useful for, after he finds him lacking in the “warrior” aspect. For as much of a disappointment in the physical department Three can be (which doesn’t mean Donnie is weak—just that Draxxy is hard to please), Draxum will admit that the boy is a genius. It’s just the way that Three’s smart which Draxum can’t stand. Three uses too much scavenged, human material in his tech, and while Draxum grudgingly allows it, he refuses to give it any praise. It frustrates him to no end that Three seems to reject studying mystic sciences.

It still doesn’t stop Three from seeking out Draxum’s input, and constantly being disappointed when his tech gets verbally (and sometimes literally) ripped to shreds. Pretty much the only area where Three gets any actual, validation from Draxum, are the bombs and munitions Three makes to supply Draxum’s resistance budies. Everything else is just him not living up to his full potential and wasting his time.

This is just gonna be the nature of this AU, but I’m really leaning hard into the villain aspect of these three. I’m hoping to still give them nuance, But I’m going all in, where each of them is pretty deplorable in their unique own way.

Big Mama was very doting on Mikey, but I think it was more along the lines of her viewing it as being amused by a new pet. I mean she full on dated and had a relationship with Splinter for who knows how long, and had no problem throwing him to the wolves, and I loved that about her. In my AU she’s whatever she needs to be to get what she wants, dialed up to eleven. She has zero problems putting on that mother of year mask for Mikey, because he was cute and entertaining, but the moment she realized she could make a pretty penny off of him by discarding him, she does. So what if she keeps the paintings Mikey made her, up in her private office, nobody has to know.

Draxum is relentless in his mission, and Three is the best tool he currently has to see those ends met. He doesn’t care how much strain it seems to put on the boy—he should be able to handle it. Draxum does not make creations that break so easily.

Shredder does show pride in Leo’s prowess as a fighter, and even though his praise is hard to earn, he does let his student know when he’s done a good job. On the flip side, he’s got no problems punishing Leo for his failures. Shredder is very clear in his expectations for Leo, unlike Draxum who never seems to be pleased by anything. In Shredder’s mind, Leo is his perfect weapon.

Draxum had seen Mikey fight in the battle nexus so he knew about him and just didn’t have the means to take on Big Mama, but when he finally meets Raph and Leo, he’s so frustrated that they’ve aligned with humans and refuse to listen to reason. Despite trying to get them on his side they want nothing to do with him, and what’s worse they’ve poisoned Three against him. He’s already poured so much time and resources into Three and look how that turned out. If they won’t join him, he’ll either find some way to turn them against the humans or he’ll destroy them. They’ve caused him enough of a headache.

I’m still on the fence about Shredder’s entire backstory. I know he’ll have been raised by the Hamato Clan but I’ve never been a fan of the whole love triangle—you stole the woman I loved and I’m gonna refer to her as an object—thing. I think him turning to more violent methods and then learning his true origins is enough of a wedge to drive between him and the man he thought of as a brother. Which leads me to Karai.

I’m not using 2012 Karai cause it would be kinda redundant with Leo’s role. So I think I’m gonna use gram-gram Karai…I just need to figure out…how. I’ve got some ideas, it’s just working out the details of, okay I changed Shredder so he can’t be her father, do I want her to still be dead? Be a guiding spirit for Leo? Do I want her to be brought back to life? Or maybe it would be cool to expand on her connection with April—cause the show gave us this awesome idea maybe I could explore that more? Idk. I just know I do want her to have a bigger role. I’ve got some time tho to think on it.

As for Bradford and Xever they might make a short appearance down the road, but as of now I’ve got solid plans for certain characters and I don’t wanna throw too many shrimp in the pot, ya know? If I can think of some role for them to fill, then they’ll get some actual time but for now they’re relegated to Easter egg status like Bebop and Rocksteady lol.

@burnttoastarista

[an-excellent-choice]

I was recently gushing at a friend about bg3 but didn't want to spoil her in the romance and the characters backstory.

So, I started comparing everybody with Dragon Age companions to give her an idea on everybody's personality.

Now I need to complete this list just for the sake of it.

Astarion: Zevran, Isabela, Morrigan

I know a lot of people compare Astarion and Fenris but honestly, I personally don't see them being similar enough( yes even with the slavery and white hair) they are just two different flavors especially in personality. They are similar in broad strokes but in the details not really.

Now with Zevran and Isabela, I can see. These two very sexual characters both use their sexualities and their daggers to manipulate those around them.

They both cope with their trauma with putting a mask of light heartedness and sexual freedom. The main difference of between Zevran and Isabela to Astarion is that Astarion is more upfront with his trauma.

The Morrigan aspect is his pragmatism. Astarion's killed or killed is similar to Morrigan. They both hate helping people as they don't see anything beneficial it. They are so used to the absence of kindness that any they see from the protag is seen as naivety or even fakeness because if there truly kindness in the world why did they never experienced themselves.

Gale: Anders, Merril, Solas

So the common trait I established from these characters that I see in Gale is them being blinded by their goals. These 3 all kind and mean well but they think their way is the only way to fix things. All these three are self serving to their selfish desires to the point it overwrites any kindness they have. They want to do something drastic to help others. Solas with elves, Merril her missing friends and Anders with mages but in the price of themselves.

Personality wise,Merril is also similar to Gale with her akwardness and naivety. Gale has a tendency to do akward moments in his enthusiasm and lackk experience in socializing. While the Solas is love information and informing others, he's very welcoming in sharing experiences.

Now, Anders. Specifically Anders dao and da2 Act 1-2 because Gale would never justify the means justifies the end mentality in act3 of da2. The basics commonalities: cat dad, mage, time bomb but the most damning similarity is that both Gale and Anders thought that they know better even though they were already warned. Gale with the piece of weave and Anders with Justice. They both essentially shot themselves in the foot by ignoring the warning signs.

(I'm not including Merril in the shooting of foot because her ritual was tampered she knew her risks and had actually prepared a kill switch just in case)

Wyll: Cassandra, Merril, Varric

The main thing I focused on this trio is responsibility. All these 3 has certain responsibility or expectations set upon them with a main conflict of whether they should just follow expectations or do their own will even at the price of losing support or their people

Wyll has heavy expectations on him and he himself always tries to put the well being of others before him even at the price of his soul.

Now personality-wise, Cassandra is an old romantic. Just like Wyll they both enjoy poetry and wooing. They both live for the romance even though they try hard to focus on only their duty they cant hide their soft squishy hearts.

Merril is kind and is always torn with her abandoning her duty to do what she thinks is needed to be done. She loves her people so much she will bear being seen as a monster to try to help them. *cough* wyll is the same*cough

Varric is charming as fuck but he also is kindaa running away from his responsibility until finally he was forced to take a stand. He accidentally helped start aspects of the mess but he will be damned if he doesnt try to help.

Okay, I'm running out of steam now. I'll do a part 2 for the ladies as this is also too long now.

[foggyfanfic]

Train of thought:

Drawing Julieta for the first time and I am honestly shocked by how light she actually is, like I went through and color picked from a few scenes and even in the darkest one she just wasn’t as dark as I remember. Probably because she’s always next to one of the lighter people in her family like Agustín and/or Pepa. At the same time her skin tone is so warm and it really puts things into perspective like how Agustín and Pepa are lighter than Julieta, but Bruno is paler. And that got me thinking about how one of the advantages of having such a big cast is that they can show off the diversity of skin tones, especially in the case of a Latino family.

And that got me thinking about that one interview Stephanie Beatriz did where she said when she got cast for Brooklyn Nine Nine, she hadn’t been expecting it because they had already cast a Latina actress and it’s sort of unheard of to cast two actors of the same gender and color unless the story requires it or that color is white. But because Brooklyn Nine Nine had two Latina women they had more freedom to characterize both because they weren’t saying something about Latinas as a whole if Rosa is angry while Amy is anxious, they were saying something about just those characters as individuals.

And that got me thinking about how there being so many Madrigals means there’s technically room for so many different forms of representation. You can headcanon that Camilo and Antonio have completely different relationships with their race, because there being two black boys who have mixed race parents means there’s room to tell more stories about those experiences. You can headcanon Bruno and Pepa as having varying anxiety disorders whether they be OCD or something else, because there’s room for that. You can headcanon that multiple Madrigals are bi or demi or gay and they all have very different experiences when it comes to exploring their sexualities because there’s room for that. And you can headcanon that these characters are dealing with the way their race, their sexualities, and their potential mental health disorders all mesh together to form small parts of their complicated identities because that’s realistic to people’s lived experiences there’s room for that too.

And that got me thinking that Disney probably won’t get into any of that if we get more canon content, because they’re motivated by profit margins. I can sit here and think about how being GNC in a small catholic village would affect Luisa’s relationship to her gender, but Disney definitely isn’t going to give us an episode about how racism and sexism blend together to tell WOC they’re not feminine enough. That won’t sell well in conservative markets. I can sit here and wonder how long it took Camilo to notice that the difference between transforming into a man and transforming into a woman is way less distinct than he thought it’d be, but Disney definitely isn’t going to give us a Pride month special about how biological sex is more of a spectrum than we think and gender is a cultural construct. That won’t sell well in conservative markets. And I can play around with a fic idea about Luisa and Camilo eventually comparing their relationships with gender, but I know Disney is never going to show that sorta discussion happening in one of their IP’s. Because that won’t sell well in conservative markets.

(Wait, my dog needs to go out. Seriously? It’s almost 3 am? If I get murdered taking you on a walk at 3am then you’re grounded from milkbones for a week. Not enough stars out tonight. Hold on, let me pick it up, you might be an animal but I’m not, can’t just leave your mess where somebody might step on it. Ok, let’s go back. No, you don’t get another chicken jerky just because we’re doing bedtime again, the bag says a dog your size should only have one a day. Ready for lights out? I love you too, sleep well.)

And that got me thinking that I sorta hope Disney never confirms any of the Madrigals genders or sexuality. Would it be awesome if Disney took advantage of this giant cast to introduce kids to the sheer variety of experiences life holds? Of course! Do I believe for one second that’s what’s going to happen? Not with the current leadership. If we’re lucky, they’ll give Bruno a “friend” who happens to be a man, and Bruno will hold his hand once right before the show gets canceled because it “isn’t doing well with its target audience”. Then because they won’t have confirmed if he’s bi, gay, sexually fluid, ace and gay-romantic, demi and pan-romantic, or any one of the many sexual identities a person can be when they hold hands with somebody the same gender as them, there’ll be fandom wars over it. I will once again have to see somebody say that saying a character is bi is LGBT erasure because it means you can ship that character in a het ship. And I don’t want to deal with that.

And that got me thinking about all the people that are “not marginalized enough to count”. People who supposedly have passing privilege, people whose gender or sexuality is considered trendy, people whose disabilities are invisible. I’m hungry for discussions about those folks, about people like myself. I don’t think I’m going to find a nuanced discussion about identity on the Disney channel, but I wish that when I was a kid there had been a Saturday morning cartoon that sat me down and said “Someday people might tell you there ain’t a place for you in the mainstream, so you’ll go find other folks who don’t fit, but they’ll tell you you’re too mainstream to belong with them. All of those people will be wrong, almost nobody gets a full privilege bingo, life isn’t a dichotomy between mainstream and weirdos. We’re all shades of gray”. But that’s an incredibly complex thing to teach a kid, and again, it doesn’t sell well.

And now I am thinking about how incredibly nuanced the original movie is, and maybe I shouldn’t be so pessimistic, maybe Disney will let the original creative team take the helm. Sure, it’s still doubtful that we would get to see all the shades of queer on a Disney show, but we might get good representation for mental illness. And if the original creative team is in charge it will definitely have a plethora of fleshed out, complex female characters. Not to mention, while I may not be qualified to judge whether or not they’re giving accurate representation to people of color and folks from Colombia, I did read a lot of happy reviews from people who are qualified to judge that. I wouldn’t have gotten so invested in the movie if the writing team hadn’t done such a good job making believable characters, maybe I should trust them.

My dog is snoring, can’t see her but it sounds like she settled in the bed next to her water. I should sleep too. Good night.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!! You SUCK!

I'm really setting myself up, huh? The first sex scene is going to have to be REALLY good.

But don't worry guys, I have SO MANY smut scenes for after they get together, it's CRAZY!!! 😭

2. It NEEDS to be EVEN sssslllllooooweeeeerrrrrr.

Part 1 - the new recruit

Part 2 - the depression

Part 3 - the gelato

Warnings: none.

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

     Gwen stopped suddenly, startled by the unexpected darkness of the control room. It didn’t take long for Jess to realise that she wasn’t following behind her anymore. The older lady turned back and waved to Gwen welcomingly. 

     “Oh! It’s all right, honey!” she reassured her. “Miguel’s got these super senses, so the light hurts his eyes when he takes his mask off.” She continued walking again, gesturing for Gwen to follow her to the control panel. 

     “Super senses?” Gwen repeated, jogging to catch up with Jess. “You mean like spidey senses?” Jess hesitated. 

     “Not exactly,” she began uncertainly. “More like … super sight, super hearing, that kind of stuff?” 

     “Why?” Gwen asked, studying Miguel’s broad form curiously. “How did he get them?” 

     “You know that means I can hear everything you’re saying, right?” Miguel informed her over his shoulder. Gwen stopped talking immediately. 

     “Miguel?” X called out to him, hopping down from the platform once it had lowered. “How’d it go? Is everything okay?” 

     “Everything was fine, arañita,” he reassured her, his voice softer than Gwen had heard it thus far. “How was everything here?” X waved away his concerns. 

     “Same as always.”

     “Whoa,” Gwen whispered to Jess, surprised by Miguel’s sudden change in demeanour. “Who’s that?”

     “Oh, that’s X,” Jess explained. “A.k.a. Black Widow, a.k.a the only person in the entire multiverse Miguel will actually listen to.” 

     “Maybe because she’s the only person in the entire multiverse worth listening to?” Miguel called back, having heard everything she’d said. Jess grinned and leaned over to Gwen, pretending to whisper, but still speaking loud enough for both X and Miguel to hear.

     “Nah, it’s because he’s not-so-secretly in love with her,” she revealed to Gwen. Miguel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

     “¡Ay, por Dios, not this again!” he warned Jess. But he could feel X’s heart start to quicken, spurred on by the adrenaline rushing through her veins at the thought. She wouldn’t push him though - she never pushed him. Even when he deserved it. X looked over at Gwen, oblivious to Miguel’s thoughts. 

     “Hi! Um, have we met before?” She flashed her a sheepish smile, worried if she might have forgotten the girl among the hundreds of thousands of Spiders wandering in and out of HQ everyday. 

     “Um, no! I’m Gwen. Gwen Stacy.” She straightened quickly, trying to appear serious - like she belonged there. Miguel strolled after X as she approached Gwen, folding his arms across his chest as he looked down at her. 

     “Of Earth-65,” he informed X, his tone meaningful. X's lips parted in surprise and she turned back to look up at him. Miguel frowned, his features hardening as they carried on some sort of mental conversation. He nodded to Jess, shooting her a glare, and X followed his gaze, her eyes widening in understanding. Then she turned back to place a hand on Miguel’s forearm, the gesture relaxing him almost immediately, the harsh look melting off his features as he sighed in defeat. She gave him a gentle squeeze, satisfied, then returned her attention to Gwen. 

     “I’m X,” she introduced herself, holding out a hand for Gwen to shake. “Black Widow of Earth-2.” Gwen’s eyes went round with curiosity. 

     “Earth-2?” she repeated, impressed. “What’s that like? Is it special?” 

     “Well, Earth-1 doesn’t have any superheroes, right?” X explained. “They just write all the stories that the rest of us live out. So, Earth-2 is kind of like that, except that people started experimenting and stuff to try to turn those fantasies into realities. That’s how you ended up with people like me.” Gwen took a moment to digest the information. 

     “So, you’re … a lab experiment?” she asked carefully, wincing at the thought.

     “Well, no,” X replied. “I was just an accident. Got bit by a radioactive spider that snuck out of a higher level lab where I was working.” She shrugged, giving another sheepish smile.

     “You work in a lab?” Gwen repeated. “Cool!”

Miguel frowned, sliding his gaze to the side as he sniffed at her reaction. 

     “I work in a lab too,” he murmured. X grinned and leaned into him, her shoulder pressing into his arm playfully. He tried to maintain his sombre expression as he looked down at her, but eventually, she weakened him, and he huffed in amusement as he rolled his eyes. 

     “So, are there others like you in your world?” Gwen asked, curious to find out more. X straightened, thinking about it. 

     “Well, I’m the only Spider person in my world. But …” she paused, shifting uncomfortably at whatever she was about to say next. “There are experiments that have gone wrong. Like the mutant villains and stuff. We have a few of those.” She didn’t look like she wanted to say any more on the subject and Miguel, sensing her unease, reached out and curled his fingers around her shoulder. She relaxed immediately, taking a step back so that her back brushed against his chest. 

     “So, Gwen,” she began, that cheery smile on her face once again, “have you had the tour yet?”

     It was strange the way Miguel - so huge and strong and intimidating - seemed to take comfort in the presence of this small, non-threatening Spider. She was tiny next to Miguel, warm and friendly with a welcoming smile that didn’t seem like it ever left her face. They were an odd combination, the two of them, but cute, nonetheless. 

     “Uh, they showed me a few rooms on the way in, but …” Gwen glanced around the control room once again, a jumble of peculiar machines she’d never seen before in her life. “This place is huge! How do you not get lost in it?” X grinned and turned to Miguel, her tone teasing as she spoke. 

     “‘There’s a system’,” she quoted, repeating what must have been one of his common dialogues. And again, his strikingly sharp features softened at the edges, even as he rolled his eyes at her. She turned back to Gwen. “Miguel always has a system. Come on! I’ll show you.”

     Gwen followed after X, curious to learn more. But then X stopped in the doorway, turning back to call to Miguel, “oh! I’ll see you later, Miguel?” 

     “Sí, arañita,” he assured her, the corner of his lips quirking against his own will at her excitement. “Hasta luego.” She smiled and his lips stretched even wider at the sight. Jess glanced back and forth between them, waiting until X and Gwen had left the room before leaning over to Miguel. 

     “Not in love with her, huh?” she teased him. Miguel clenched his jaw and turned around, walking back to the control panel without another word.

     She closed her eyes and slumped over in her seat, clearly exhausted. Miguel sighed. 

     “Why don’t you just go home and sleep, arañita?” he suggested. X groaned. 

     “Because! I want to be with you!” She lay her head down on the table and looked up at him. “I like hanging out with you, Miguel.” He tensed up at her confession, staunchly avoiding her gaze as he tried to figure out how to respond to her. She shuffled closer to him and closed her eyes. 

     “You make me feel safe,” she told him softly. And it was as good as if she’d told him she loved him - again. She had anxiety, so feeling safe was all she’d ever wanted. He leaned over the table, scrunching his hair between his fingers. Then he stood up and began shooting his glowing red webs at the ceiling. She opened her eyes when she sensed him getting up and watched quietly as he tried to weave his webs together in some sort of pattern. Finally, she sat up, leaning her head on her hand. “What are you doing, Miguel?” 

     “I saw one of the Peter’s do it once,” he huffed out in irritation. “Trust a Peter to find a way to take a nap when the fate of the entire multiverse is hanging in the balance.” X got up and went over to him, wanting to help him figure it out. She pushed down on the hammock when they’d finished, testing if it would be able to hold her weight. Then she turned to look up at him, silently asking for his help to get onto it. He steeled himself, preparing to have his fingers curled around her soft and perfect curves, then he lifted her up onto the hammock, trying so hard to not let his touch linger on her. She lay down on her side, looking over at him as he sat back down and returned to his work. 

     “I love you, Miguel,” she told him before turning around. He sucked in a breath, freezing up at the words. He clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw working. 

     “Don’t …” she stopped him, knowing exactly how he was going to react. She yawned, then let out a little chuckle. “You don’t have to say it back.” He didn’t need to - he’d already showed it, so many times, how much he really cared about her. 

     “You don’t need to,” she reassured him softly, already drifting off to sleep. 

     She stretched and blinked her eyes open, lifting her wrist to check the time on her watch. Two hours, it had been two hours since she’d fallen asleep. Her eyes widened in alarm. 

     “Miguel!” She scrambled around, struggling to push herself up to a seat. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” He got up and went over to her, slashing the webs surrounding her with his claws. 

     “Because. You said you have insomnia.” He caught her in his arms when she fell. “I wanted to let you sleep.” Because she felt safe with him - safe enough to fall asleep, deeply and soundly, right by his side. But, ay, mierda, she always looked so pretty when she’d just woken up, her features all soft and glowing. He pulled his gaze away from her and set her down on the ground. 

     ‘Uh …” She took a moment to return to her senses, her mind all fuzzy from sleep and being in his arms and his concern for her. Did he even realise how sweet he really was? How caring and tender he could be? Especially when it came to her? She shook her head, waking up properly. “I can just take a pill. Tonight.” 

     “Is it that bad?” He sat back down in front of his computers again. She walked over to him. 

     “I think it’s just getting to that time of the month again.” She rested her hands on the table as she leaned over to look at him. “You gonna be done soon?” 

     He slid his gaze over to her, flashing a look that said ‘am I ever done?’. She reached up and squeezed his shoulder gently in response: there was no point in telling him not to work so hard - he’d either just let out an annoyed grunt or go another rant about saving the entire multiverse. 

     “What should I do?” she asked him.

‘Stay,’ he wanted to say, ‘just like this; your hand on my shoulder, your presence a comfort. Stay. Just the two of us.’ He sighed, knowing he couldn’t say it. 

     “You should go home and get some sleep, X,” he told her kindly. “You’re tired.” She slid her hand around to his other shoulder, rubbing her thumb up and down the back of his neck.

     “So are you,” she pointed out, taking note of the exhaustion in his voice. “And, you know, you can’t save the entire multiverse if you’re too exhausted to do it.” 

     He wanted to fight back, wanted to tell her that he could survive a few more hours without sleep, but the multiverse wouldn’t. But now that her hand was on his shoulder, her familiar scent soothing his frayed nerves, he did start to realise how tired he really was. He slumped over, finally letting the tension escape from his body. She moved her fingers to his hair, scratching his scalp softly. 

     “We’ve always got tomorrow, Miguel,” she said, her tone soft and reassuring. And mierda it felt good, her slender fingers in his hair, tickling his scalp gently. He steeled himself, forcing himself to get up so that her hand fell away. 

     “I’ll see you tomorrow, arañita,” he relented. She grinned, triumphant. 

     “Yup! Always.” Then she waited. He raised an eyebrow, confused.

     “What are you waiting for?” 

     She folded her arms across her chest, smirking back at him knowingly. “I’m waiting to make sure you go home first.” 

     He rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips, challenging her back. But she didn’t back down, smiling even as she took a step closer to him. Her eyes fell across his body and she bit her lip, the corners curling with mischief. “I really want to hug you right now, Miguel.” 

     He wanted to hug her too - so badly. Wanted to pull her into his chest, wrap her up in his arms and never let her go again. But then he’d never let her go again. He looked away, his body slouching with disappointment. She snickered at his hesitation and he let out a huff, opening up a portal. But then he paused, glancing over at her uncertainly as he tried not to think about how dark and empty his apartment was without her in it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, arañita.”

     “See you tomorrow, Miguel. I love you.”

     “Hmm.” He left.

     “I told you!” Miguel pointed an accusing finger at Peter B. “I told you we shouldn’t have let a bunch of teenagers handle a mission by themselves! Why do I even listen to you?!” He paced back and forth on the platform, waving his hands in the air as he continued with his rant. Gwen shuffled a little closer to Peter, still not as used to Miguel’s grumbling as Pav and Hobie were. 

     “What are you doing?” she whispered to Peter as he tapped away at his watch. 

     He leaned over to murmur back to her, “sending a distress signal to X.”

     “What? Why?”

Peter’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. 

“You’ll see.”

     X ran into the room, her curly hair flying behind her as she did so. Peter turned to her immediately, waving his hands in the air in relief. 

     “Thank goodness you’re here!” he exclaimed, gesturing for X to go over to them. 

     “I’m here! I’m here!” she yelled, skidding to a stop beside Peter. “What happened?!” Miguel gestured to Pav and Hobie, continuing to scowl at them. 

     “What happened is that I trusted these two clowns,” he informed X, using one of her common insults, “to-” He paused suddenly, losing his train of thought when his eyes fell upon her. 

     She’d always shown up in her suit, bare-face and ready for a fight. But even then, he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on her smooth curves, her tumbling curls, her pretty smile. And now, with her standing before him in her cute little outfit - white, long-sleeved shirt tucked into a black skirt that grazed her mid-thighs, tanned legs exposed down to her black suede ankle boots - what chance did he possibly stand? His forehead creased as he tried to remember what he was mad about, stuttering and stammering while his mind went blank. Finally, he managed to wrench his gaze away from her, gesturing to Pav and Hobie to explain themselves instead. 

     “We just made a little mistake!” Pav began. 

     “But we fixed it!” Hobie added. 

     “And now the canon is completely intact!”

     “So no harm done!”

X turned to Miguel, tilting her head in curiosity. 

     “Okay, so … what’s the problem then?” She always gave him the benefit of the doubt, never dismissing him for overreacting or waving him off for being too dramatic. Because she trusted him - she’d taken the time to understand him and she always knew when there was some bigger underlying issue at hand. His gaze returned to her and he found himself constantly having to pull it away just so he could form a coherent thought. 

     “Uh, just …” His eyes flickered over to her and he swallowed hard at the way her rosy lips were pursed to the side, her eyebrows knitted together over her curled and darkened eyelashes as she waited for his response. Coño, she was cute. He turned back to Pav and Hobie and waved them away. “Just don’t do it again.” 

     “Yes! Thank you Spider-dad!” Pav exclaimed as Hobie gave a lazy salute. Then he turned to X and gave her a cheeky wink. “And thank you, Spider-mum.” 

     “I’ll just … be heading home now,” Peter began, a knowing smile on his face as he began backing out of the room. “MJ said she wanted me home early tonight.” 

     “Okay,” Gwen began once the four of them had safely exited the room. “What just happened?” 

     “Oh, we always call X whenever Miguel gets into a rage,” Pav explained to her casually, swinging from the beams overhead. “She’ll either calm him down or distract him until he forgets what he’s mad about.” Gwen stopped to think about it. 

     “How?” she asked, intrigued. She’d been surprised when Miguel had suddenly stopped in the middle of his lecture, fidgeting with his hands and glancing over at X like he was … nervous? But he couldn’t possibly have been nervous! Especially not around X! Hobie turned around to continue walking backwards so he could fix Gwen with a smirk. 

     “Did you see the way he reacted?” Hobie chuckled. “Man’s got it bad.”

Gwen furrowed her brows in confusion. They seemed like an old, married couple, X and Miguel - he the grumpy old husband and she the sweet little wife who always knew just want to do to calm him down. But Miguel had said that they weren’t together; that he wasn’t in love with her. Even though everyone else seemed to think it most definitely wasn’t true.

“But if they like each other so much then why aren’t they dating?” Gwen asked the rest of them. Peter sighed. 

     “It’s … Miguel … broke a canon event, once,” he revealed softly. “And it cost him his whole family. Well, a version of his family. So … he’s just scared, I guess.” The mood turned sombre suddenly and Pav swung to the ground, landing by Gwen’s side. 

     “They’ll be fine,” he declared confidently. “They’re meant to be together. Trust me: I have a sense for these things.” Peter grinned at his self-assurance, amused. But he hoped he was right, God he hoped he was right. 

     Miguel tapped his knuckles on his desk, not looking at her as he tried to figure out what to say. Finally, he cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?” 

     X went over to him, stepping up onto the platform to reach his side. 

     “Peter messaged me saying there was an emergency.” She reached up to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze, her features still fixed in an expression of concern as she leaned over to look up at him. “Is everything all right?” 

     Her lips were glossy, soft. And if he bent down just a little more, he'd finally be able to feel them against his own. Would she taste sweet? Like the scent of strawberries that always wafted off of her and clouded all his senses? 

     “Miguel?” His eyes were glazed over as he looked down at her, his lips parting as he lowered his head, his thoughts consumed by something she couldn't guess at. 

     “Huh?” He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present moment, and straightened. Maldita sea, had he … He’d almost … “It was nothing! Just … Pav and Hobie almost messed up the timeline. But that's what I get for trusting them to go on a mission together. And with the new recruit, no less.” 

     X grinned as he fell back into his usual grumbling. She rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “Keyword: almost. They fixed it, right?” 

     Miguel sighed, the tension finally leaving his body at the sound of her soothing tone. And her casual touches didn't hurt either. “This time.”

She leaned over to smile up at him again.

     “Well, it's over now. If it ever happens again - touch wood,” she paused to knock on the desk, “and they don't fix it,” another knock, “then you can get mad at them. But I'll make sure they don't do it again. I'll go through the debriefing with them.” 

     He glanced up at her, a grateful smile tugging on the corners of his lips. She was so caring and so sweet and everything always seemed so much easier whenever she was around. His eyes travelled over her again, looking much too cute standing there in her pretty little outfit. Would she dress like that; if he took her out on a date sometime? He shook his head again and dragged his gaze away from her, gripping onto the edge of his desk as he tried to regain control of his thoughts. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Why are you dressed like that?”

     She looked down at her outfit, confused. Then she remembered that she'd been in the middle of a dinner when she'd gotten the emergency call. 

     “Oh! Some of the girls at work wanted to go drinking together.” She shrugged. “I thought I'd just join in. For fun.” She'd always found it difficult to make friends, even despite being one of the sweetest and most welcoming people he'd ever met in his life. He just couldn't comprehend how anyone could not want to be around her. The very thought of anyone ever treating her badly was enough to ignite a spark of rage in his chest. But so did the thought of someone treating her too well - someone other than him. He glanced away again. 

     “Was it? Fun?” She shrugged again. 

     “It was okay.” She grinned. “Every time I get drunk, I just feel like watching Shakespeare.” He let out a snort of amusement. She was so weird. And he was so glad for it. 

     “Do you … want to watch some Shakespeare now?” He kept his gaze fixed on the table as he waited for her response. Then he felt her curl her fingers around his shoulder again. 

     “I barely finished one drink, Miguel,” she reassured him. Then her eyes widened in alarm. “I thought someone broke their leg or something! The way Peter was freaking out.” Miguel narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the revelation that Peter had been the one who’d called her there. 

     “He’s just being dramatic. I don’t know why he thought he needed you to-” ‘calm me down? Get my anger to evaporate, just at the sight of you? Make everything feel like all was right with the world once again?’ But that was exactly what she’d done, hadn’t she? “To come over.” 

     “It’s okay,” she shrugged, grinning at the thought of him raging before she’d arrived. “I don’t … I like that you feel safe enough with me … to let go of your anger. I don’t like it when you get angry. Just because of how it affects you! Not because of anyone else.” She glanced around at the screens surrounding them, not knowing what else to say. He already knew how she felt about him, after all. Could it be possible that he was maybe starting to feel the same way? That he was beginning to take comfort in her presence, in the same way she did in his? 

     “Are you gonna go home soon?” she asked him instead. He shook his head and sank back into his seat. 

     “No. We still have three more missions going on right now. I’ll wait for them to get back first.” X lowered herself into the chair beside him - her chair. 

     “Okay. How long do you think they’re going to take?” He raised an eyebrow. 

     “Don’t you want to go back? You don’t have to stay here, you know.”      

“I know.” She spun around in her chair, eyes fixed on him in anticipation of his reaction. “But I always have much more fun hanging out with you anyway.” She gave him a sweet smile and he felt the corners of his lips twist up at the ends, a warm feeling filling up his chest at her admission. ‘Yo tambien, arañita,’ he thought to himself. ‘Yo tambien.’

Tags: @leahnicole1219 @heubstr

[clotpolesonly]

Six Of One

welcome to another episode of "Jess projects her experiences onto fictional characters" 😂 it's been a little while! (i strongly suspect that this experience of mine is the 'tism somehow, hence me subjecting my autistic king Declan to it) anyway, the title is a truncation of the phrase "six of one, half dozen of another" which means that two options are equal in value and, thus, it doesn't actually matter which you choose. one is as good as the other. | Jordeclan | Gen | 2.3k | Established Relationship | Verbal Shutdown | Accommodations | Fluff | (also on AO3)

The new studio space was spacious, well-lit, and blissfully free of vegetable-esque breasts. This one also had an elevator instead of three flights of stairs, thank God. Declan stepped out of it and into the familiar scent of turpentine and canvas, strong even though all the doors along the hallway were currently closed. A small, private smile tugged at his lips, despite his mood.

Perhaps it wasn’t right to call it a mood. By all accounts, Declan felt fine. His day had gone well so far, with a number of business transactions handled smoothly and efficiently, a phone number attained for a frustratingly difficult to track down associate-of-an-associate-of-an-associate, and several texts exchanged with Ronan with hardly any insults involved. It was breezy outside with just a hint of chill in the air signaling the incoming cold snap. The barista at the café had called him Derek again, but she’d finally gotten his coffee order just right. Matthew had only been five minutes late to soccer practice instead of his usual ten.

Declan had had far more stressful days than this one—he could practically see the look Ronan would give him for the sheer magnitude of that understatement—and yet he couldn’t help the tightness in his shoulders as he let himself into the studio.

Jordan was at her easel, engrossed in whatever she was working on today. Music spilled from her laptop, as it often did when she painted, and her voluminous cloud of curls jounced with every enthusiastic bop of her head. The baggy jean overalls she’d taken to wearing had been released from her shoulders, straps instead tied haphazardly around her waist to leave her in a mildly paint-splattered sports bra instead. She was barefoot.

Some of Declan’s tension eased.

The Artist Unbound, oil on canvas, he thought. Or perhaps pastels, to capture the soft haziness of the feeling that grew in his chest to see her like this. Not for the first time, he considered taking Jordan up on her offer to teach him how to actually make art himself, instead of only appreciating others’. It was always said with a teasing lilt, but she meant it. Every time, she meant it.

It wasn’t until one track flipped over to another less to Jordan’s liking that she noticed his presence. She immediately rerouted from the laptop to dance her way across the room, smiling, until she was close enough to kiss him.

“About time, Pozzi,” she said, arms sliding around Declan’s waist. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen down a manhole or slipped through a sewer grate or something equally cartoonish and ridiculous. Not because I thought it likely—I mean, let’s be honest, if anyone is going to fall prey to cartoon physics in this, the real world, it would definitely be Ronan—but I’ll admit, I did get a certain amount of schadenfreude from the mental image. Hope you don’t mind, love you lots, anyway, what took you so long? Did Matthew lose a fight with his cleats again?”

Declan opened his mouth to tell her about the Masshole who cut him off right when he needed to change lanes to catch his exit. He was going to tell her about the lady’s flowery “Choose Kindness” bumper sticker and make a quip about irony. “If only I could be that lacking in self-awareness,” he planned to say, “it’s probably so much easier to live that way.”

He didn’t say any of it. He thought it. He thought it clearly and fluently, all the words lined up and ready to go. Then he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

His shoulders inched back up toward his ears. Jordan’s fingers dug into his back, no doubt feeling the tension creep in there as well, and she pulled back a bit to look at him.

“Alright, bruv?”

Declan closed his mouth. He nodded. It both was and was not the truth.

Jordan tilted her head to the side, lips pursing. She didn’t look concerned, which Declan appreciated, but the scrutiny brought more color to his cheeks than he would’ve liked.

Tone light and easy, she said, “Hand-Cat got your tongue with its weird little hands?”

That mental image, every bit as cartoonish as Ronan falling down a manhole and twice as disturbing, yanked a laugh out of him. Jordan’s smile was smug, like it always was when she managed to make Declan laugh in a way that would embarrass him if he’d done it in public, but she was still watching him carefully. Looking for clues, maybe, or for an explanation.

Declan wanted to tell her, It’s fine.

He wanted to tell her, You don’t need to worry, it’s only that my mouth has spontaneously developed a dysfunction where it refuses to produce sound.

He wanted to tell her, This happens sometimes. No, I don’t know why.

He wanted to tell her, All the words are still in here, I just can’t seem to get them out.

Instead, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened up their text thread and typed out a message, turning it around for her to read instead of sending it.

[Do you mind if I talk like this?]

Jordan had to pull back further to squint at the small screen, tightening her grip on his waist to keep from tipping over backwards. A crease appeared between her eyebrows, lips pursing again. Her eyes darted to his face for a mere second, assessing, and then her face cleared. She shrugged expansively.

“Doesn’t make any difference to me, Pozzi. Words in air, words on a screen—six of one, if you know what I mean. Call it a baker’s dozen if you throw in emojis. Did Matthew teach you about those yet? The silly little pictures the kids are using these days?”

Declan rolled his eyes. He typed out another message.

[I’m acquainted with the concept of emojis, yes. I didn’t even need Matthew’s tutelage in them.]

He included a little old man emoji to punctuate the statement. It might have been the first time he had ever actually utilized an emoji in a text message, but Jordan didn’t need to know that. It made her laugh, anyway, which was the important thing.

She stepped back out of their embrace, her hands taking a brief detour to squeeze his ass before letting him go completely, and dug her own phone out of one of her overall pockets. She held it up with a jaunty little shake.

“Mind if I respond out loud?” she asked, walking backwards in the direction of her half-finished painting. “Only, this shit’s messy, and touchscreens and fingerpainting don’t get along very well. Though I suppose I could make something avant garde out of it. Statement about the sanitization of the internet and corporate whatever-you-like killing the creative spirit and whatnot. You’d have to buy me a new phone after, if I sacrificed this one to the art gods, but I know you’re good for it.”

[You can talk normally.]

Declan sent this text, since Jordan had retreated too far to read it from his screen. She checked the message and nodded. Then she spent a minute fiddling with her phone, humming along to the laptop’s next selection. She propped it up on the edge of her easel, far enough away from the canvas to not be in danger of getting splattered, with an air of triumph.

“Futzed with the settings,” she explained. “So it won’t time out and turn off as fast and I won’t have to keep trying to unlock it with messy fingers. If you say something and I don’t notice for too long, whistle or some shit.”

Declan watched as she picked up her abandoned brush, loaded it with paint, and set about her work without further ado. It took him a moment to recalibrate. He wasn’t certain exactly what reaction he’d expected, but an absence of questions, comments, or concerns apparently had not been it. Eventually, he shucked off his jacket and took up his usual position on the couch, angled just so to have the best view of Jordan herself and also a glimpse of her piece as it came together under her deft hand.

Normally, this was the part of the evening when Declan would talk. Well, he spent a lot of every day talking, but this was when he would actually say things. Things that mattered to him, stories he wanted to tell, jokes too inappropriate to make in a business setting, anecdotes no one else in his life would’ve cared to hear but Jordan always did. Now, he turned his phone over in his hand a few times before typing out, [Missed my exit. Some Masshole with a “choose kindness” bumper sticker cut me off in traffic, if you can believe that.]

Jordan’s phone buzzed with the incoming text. He watched as she finished a careful stroke of the brush before glancing down at the screen, still lit up. She snorted.

“Choose kindness? The irony’s killing me, mate. D’you think she takes selfies sipping $18 frappuccinos and captions them with Love Is Love and #positivity?”

[Almost certainly.] He added a peace sign emoji. It made Jordan laugh. [But Matthew was very nearly on time today, I’ll have you know.]

Jordan’s gasp was theatrical. “Really? He does learn!”

[Miracle of miracles. He didn’t even bitch when I said we didn’t have time to stop for McDonald’s. Truly, a day of firsts.]

Part of Declan thought that maybe Matthew had chosen to let it go on purpose—one of those rare moments of perceptiveness that were growing less rare with time, now that Matthew was making an effort toward, as he put it, “learning how to think better”. On the way to soccer practice had been when Declan’s mouth had started to betray him. He’d had to think “Matthew, put your seatbelt on” six times before he’d managed to actually communicate it audibly. The McDonald’s question had been met with a curt “no time for that”, forced out with far more effort than made any kind of sense for four very simple words that Declan said on a regular basis. By the time they’d reached the school, it had been a true struggle to muster up a goodbye, and once he had, he’d known there would be no more verbalizing tonight.

Matthew hadn’t seemed upset or like he thought Declan was mad at him, which was a relief because he wasn’t. There had been nothing wrong. Declan wasn’t even anxious about anything, beyond his general baseline. He’d thought plenty of perfectly amiable thoughts in Matthew’s direction on that trip. He’d told himself to say them instead, over and over. The rest of him just hadn’t cooperated.

He wondered now if, had he not been driving, Matthew would have minded him texting instead. Matthew wasn’t text-phobic like Ronan. He probably would’ve been over the moon about the opportunity to introduce emoji usage into their conversations, regardless of whatever malfunction of Declan’s speech capabilities had provided it.

Jordan certainly didn’t seem to mind. She chatted away the same way she always did, with only a slight delay when her eyes were too busy to spare. Text wasn’t a particularly expressive medium for conveying tone, but she knew him well enough to infer when he was being wry. She did send him an amused look for how long it took him to type out several paragraphs’ worth of commentary on the Henry Wallis wannabe from down the hall, but she put down her brush to read it all eagerly enough that he didn’t feel judged for it.

Despite the alteration to their routine, it felt just the same as it always did.

Declan wanted to tell her, I love you.

Instead, he texted, [You’re really not going to ask, are you?]

He’d been quiet—so to speak—for long enough that Jordan had to double-tap at her screen with the back of her cleanest knuckle to access the notification. She didn’t need clarification or context. She just wiped some carmine paint onto the thigh of her overalls and said, “Is it something that needs asking about?”

Declan turned that question over in his head. He would have asked, if he’d been in her position. He’d been asking himself for hours. Hell, he’d been asking himself for years, what this was and why it happened and why he couldn’t just spit it out when he got like this. He’d yet to find an answer or a solution.

But Jordan hadn’t needed one. All she’d needed was a way to keep hearing him.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He couldn’t say it right now, but he could wrap his arms around Jordan’s waist and press a kiss to her shoulder. She set down her brush in favor of reaching up to bury her fingers in his curls, cupping the back of his head to keep him close. She was undoubtedly getting in his hair. He decided that he didn’t care very much. They stayed like that for most of a song, swaying gently, Jordan humming along contentedly despite this particular track not being of a genre that easily lent itself to humming.

On the easel, Jordan’s phone screen dimmed, sleep mode impending. Declan picked it up before it could go fully dark. He typed in a text and held it up for Jordan to see.

[Thank you.]

Jordan wiggled around to face him properly, settling her arms around his neck and somehow managing to trap the phone between their chests. She kissed him, sweet and slow.

“Anytime, Pozzi,” she murmured against his lips. “Six of one, know what I mean?”

Declan thought, I’m starting to.