#but reading fanfic has helped

[rat-spit-village]

.

[tea-cat-arts]

I simply think this fandom doesn't give Wei Wuxian enough credit for the various ways in which he saved Lan Wangji

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[indigos-stardust]

their autism clashes so hard (so do their traumas <3)

[curdledbeefcake]

as an asexual

thank you to writers who are. vague as hell. when writing smut. like

WOAH MAMA!!!!

nothing gets me going more than a

skip to the next morning

has me on cloud nine, best night of my life

i will be seeking ya’ll out

[accidentallyycreated]

If obsessing over percabeth was an olympic sport

[casscainmainly]

Fanfiction is lovely and there are so so many great Cass fanfics out there, ones that truly love and cherish her character, but it bums me out how many fics don't treat her as a real person. When her one trait is that she's perfect or the little sister or the therapist, it shows a lack of understanding of Cass, but more importantly perpetuates harmful stereotypes about Asian women. Everyone is allowed to write what they want to write, but as a Cass fan (and an Asian girl), seeing these tropes (that were not really present in canon) imposed onto fanworks that people believe are better than comics genuinely saddens me.

[momowoah]

Not to bring up yesterday's discourse but the reason why some people think Buck has never had a breakdown is because they want his breakdown to be him crying nonstop and leaning on the people he loves but that's just not him. His breakdowns (yes, plural) in the past that we've seen have shown that he tends to get angry and run away from everyone. That's what he did when Maddie couldn't leave with him. That's what he did during the lawsuit era. That's what he did when his parents came back in s4. He lashes out and he isolates. Eddie is the one who cries and seeks help in the people around him (post-therapy at least, he had his fight club era lol) but y'all refuse to acknowledge him as someone who can be vulnerable and be taken care of unfortunately.

[archivewriter1ont]

I Know Your Name as My Brother: Adopting Echo

Sharing this again because it's been a while and it's my favorite!

Status: Complete Word Count: 25,972

Summary:

Echo didn't escape Skakko Minor unscathed, and his new limbs are the least of his problems. When he walked onto the Marauder, he had no idea how he was going to make a place among the four brothers who had rescued and then adopted him. Slowly he realizes that he might not have to. Maybe he just needs to accept the one they've already made for him.

Tech: Call Sign (The Bird Story) -- The Batch's resident genius asks Echo a strange question. The cyborg gets a lesson about birds and his new squad's way of doing things.

Crosshair: Silent Words (The Sketch) -- Echo is brooding and he thinks he'll find camaraderie in the other sulky Batcher. But Crosshair is more than meets the eye.

Wrecker: Midnight (Lula and the Cyborg) -- Echo can't sleep. He ends up getting a chat, a tooka doll, and some surprising revelations.

Hunter: A Quiet Morning (Tea and Terrors) -- The sergeant and the cyborg have a rough morning and tea is the fix, paired with plenty of cadethood stories about his brothers that Hunter is willing to share.

Broken Pieces (Somehow Fit Together) -- Echo thinks he's stable enough to sleep without his prosthetics. He isn't.

Reflection (Peace on Pabu) -- Home at last.

[maggplays]

Obsidian (Frogs of Fall part 2)

Here is the second (actual) installment of Frogs of Fall, read the first part of the story in this post, the full story on AO3.

Sebastian is late for his meetup with Raven, she eventually loses patience and goes in search of her tardy boyfriend.

Sebastian/fem farmer (Raven OC) Below the fold: mild language, monster knife fight Full story: NSFW: mild language, monster knife fight, smut Quick read, just over 2400 words Read on AO3 here: Part 2: Obsidian Part 1: Frogs of Fall

Obsidian

Tick-tap-tick-tap-tick-tap… the clock mocks me from the wall, counting away the seconds, as I impatiently tap my fingers. Sigh. It’s 10:07. He's not coming. I grab my phone, starting a text for the fourth time, then discarding it. If he doesn’t want to come, I shouldn’t push it. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. But what if… Marlon’s parting words when he stopped me outside the mine prick at the back of my mind. “Watch your back out there, guild members have reported an unusual number of nuisance monsters near town.” I’ll visit Raz tomorrow and ask what he knows. I smile to myself, he hates when I call him that. Disrespectful, I believe he said. Really his name is too long. I just don’t have time for it. 

Screw it. Better to move than sit here wondering. I scribble a hasty note for my boyfriend, Sebastian, in case he does come by before I get back and head for the door, leaning back mid-way through to snatch my dagger off the wall. My feet carry me towards the well worn trail leading to the carpenter’s shop as I flip the dagger hand to hand, watching the obsidian blade catch the moonlight. It’s a beautiful knife, Seb’s gift for my last birthday, he carved it himself and honed the edge to razor sharpness. The handle fits my hand perfectly, the balance true. 

Nothing seems unusual, the night chorus of frogs and insects soothes my ears, a gentle evening breeze lifting my hair. I probably should have grabbed my jacket, the air is decidedly crisp, leaves fluttering down from the trees. I pass my Nexus, choosing to walk the path. If Seb was coming, it would be this way. A light shimmer dances over my skin as I pass the barrier surrounding my farm. Instantly the pleasant night sounds cease and I pause… this isn’t right. Something brushes past my ear… shit… cave bat. I freeze in place, closing my eyes and focusing on the air around me. Still, nearly stagnant. There it is, a slight vibration. I hold my dagger in a edge-up grip… wait… wait… flicking the dagger upwards, I drop to a crouch in one fluid motion, feeling slight resistance as the knife finds its mark… then the soft thud of a bat near my feet. 

“Ugh!! Get off me you disgusting… shit!!” A voice from further down the track, followed by sounds of shuffling feet and the squish of slimes.

Seb? Before I can think I race down the path, dodging branches and avoiding tree roots by memory and a sense for the green. I pull up sharply, taking in the scene before me. Seb’s shadowy form, crouched and holding a long branch like a staff, keeping a trio of voracious slimes at bay, two dead at his feet. The others bouncing and dodging in a dizzying frenzy, determined to reach the warm, energy-filled body behind the swinging branch. Armed with only a dagger, this will not be easy, I’ll have to get close. No time for strategy, I leap ahead, appearing from the shadows like a spirit, skidding into a spinning slash, dispatching the first slime and disorienting the other two. “Raven, go left!” I duck and roll to the side, keeping my arms tight to my body to avoid any contact with the slimes or other hazards. 

Seb swings his makeshift staff, I feel the displaced air as it flies inches above my head and hear the thud of impact. The startled slime squeaks at the blow, bouncing directly towards me as a quick thrust of my dagger sends it on to the next life. One more. “Dammit! Get off you freakin’-“ Shit, I forgot Seb can’t see in the dark like I can. The slime is behind him, just out of his view. “Seb, down!” He drops and I leap over him, touching his back to orient my body, descending on the final slime from above, making quick work of it at the edge of my blade. Seb spins towards me, grabbing my arm. “Raven, are you-,” I press my fingers to his lips, closing my eyes and listening… reaching out into the night, searching for any sign of unusual movement. Seconds tick past, nothing. I suck in a shaky breath and drop my hand, turning my attention to Seb. He’s panting slightly, eyes wide, adrenaline pumping, causing his hands to twitch. 

“They’re gone, let’s go,” I unceremoniously clasp his hand, pulling him towards the farm and safety. He pauses to snatch a gym bag and follows, right on my heels. As we approach the Nexus, I glance back at Seb. His hoodie disheveled, but undamaged, his pants… coated in slime. “Seb, take off your pants.”

“Wh-what? Now? Yeah they’re nasty but…” 

“I’m serious, you have to get rid of them, that coating of slime will attract more monsters and those jeans are not crossing the barrier here. If slimes start popping up on the farm, it’ll take me weeks to get rid of them. Besides, that crud doesn’t come off. You can scrub those jeans as much as you want, they’ll never get clean. Believe me, speaking from experience.” I take a breath and touch Seb’s cheek. “Please, trust me. Do you have clothes in your bag?”

He nods. “Well… yeah, but… these jeans were clean this morning, I was planning to wear them again tomorrow. The only pants I brought are… those ones. You know.” His mouth twitches and I can’t help but chuckle.

“You mean you only brought your frog pajamas? Heh! Well, it’s not far, nobody is going to see you. Quick, get those nasty things off and throw them over the fence there, I’ll grab them tomorrow and add them to the burn pile.” Seb quickly turns away, pulling off the slime-coated jeans, careful to avoid getting the stinking goo on his hands. He tosses them away, and I can’t help but watch him in his hoodie and boxers. He pulls on the frog pants, they’re very thin and worn, wildly inappropriate for a cold night in the woods.

“Okay, c’mon, I’m freezing here!” I grin and take his hand, stepping through the barrier and striding quickly towards the house. 

I push open the front door and we step inside, Seb visibly relieved to be in the relative safety of the cabin walls. “Damn. Raven, you showed up just in time, I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t…” his voice fades away, and he looks down at the floor. 

“You took out two of those things before I even got there, but I’m glad I came to find you. Wait here, first things first.” I grab a first aid kit from the shelf by the door. “Inspection time. Even if you’re not badly injured, a small abrasion can get infected if slime touches it.” I unzip his hoodie, pulling it off, checking his arms for any scrapes or scratches. All clear. I lift up the back of his shirt, one small abrasion on his lower back. Seb hisses and I wince in sympathy as I gently spread the disinfecting ointment on the scrape. It’s not bad, barely bleeding, but with slimes you don’t take chances. “Sorry, almost done… okay. That’s it.” I quickly check over the rest of him, pulling up his loose pant legs, smiling at the cute little frogs scampering around the fabric. It would have been tragic if they’d gotten slimed. 

Seb’s breathing has calmed, he seems to have recovered from the ordeal. “Hey Raven, I made it to your house, it’s not midnight yet so I’m not too late.” He chuckles, standing to pull me into his arms. I sigh and hold him close. I blew off Seb’s concerns about the slimes, but he was right. That could have gone tragically wrong.

Read the remainder (smut) on AO3: Obsidian

Part 1: Frogs of Fall

[joshhutchersonseggsalad]

desperately in need of soft derek who takes his tough hard shell off at the end of the day since he's alone and comfortable with u. He'd cuddle u in his fancy warm bed, big spoon ofcourse. You feel comforted in his arms, but lil do u know just how much he enjoys making u feel safe. His soft hands gently caress ur stomach and give u chills everytime his fingers run up a certain spot. He can't help but smile behind you as he listens to your calm rhythmic breaths and feels ur back rise and fall against his chest. Ur ass is up against him too and occasionally he slides his hand down to give it a quick squeeze, but knows in his heart he enjoys the wholesome moment more than anything else. His voice quiet and raspy as he asks how ur day was in hopes of hearing atleast one good thing. If u had a bad day he insists on giving u a massage. He claims to be "your knight in shining armor..expensive sexy armor" as he plays with your hair and leaves kisses down your jawline and shoulders. Sometimes he'll leave a few wet sleepy hickeys if hes feeling lovey. You're a drug to him, even when hes rarely sober u can make him feel high. You're the only person who sees him for more than just what he can provide and he cherishes you for that. Even if the room is pitch black, you can still see his eyes sparkle as he looks down at you in adoration. He doesn't care if u see him with messy hair or with wrinkles in his shirt or with breath smelling like old alcohol and steak. At the end of the day he takes pride in the fact that ur his and he's urs. If he's turned over in bed and not holding u, even while in his sleepy state he makes sure u guys r still touching somehow..whether it's his foot touching urs or your fingers interlocked. "You know I love you right..I know I don't say it enough but I do" is something said often said usually once he's falling asleep. If you're lucky you'll hear him chuckle in his sleep and mumble how beautiful u are. If he's had a long day, he'd hold u close and lean his head on ur chest, taking in ur scent and refusing to let u go regardless if u wanted to turn over or not. His soft snores and slight drooling aren't even an issue to u since u feel like heaven in his arms anyways💚

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins hcs

i'm absolutely in love with the idea of miles42 and miles1610 being twins, i'm so glad most of the fandom has basically adopted 42 lmao

some of my own twins headcanons, just random stuff to add onto other ppls hcs ive seen:

☆ 42 loves his mamí absolutely but def acts the most like his dad, and haaaates when anyone points it out. it's the most obvious when 42 gets mad, he sounds EXACTLY like his father then lol

☆ in fact, the twins polar opposite personalities is probs bc 1610 takes after his mom's temperament more, while 42 is as stoic, stubborn and slightly dorky as his dad is

☆ whenever the boys made each other cry (by accident or otherwise) they did the typical little kid thing and tried immediately comforting the other. now that they're older 1610 handles his emotions better and is mature when talking about them, but 42 is the one who comforts 1610 more often

more below ↓

☆ as well as staying on top of his academics, 42 also plays basketball and trains in a couple martial arts studios after school. 1610 is taller than 42 bc of the spider bite but 42 has always been slightly bigger and more muscular than 1610 since he's the athlete. whenever the family attends 42's boxing matches, jeff gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu from back when he attended his own brother's matches before

☆ they both got thru school p okay, not many incidents of bullying mostly bc if anyone did try, 42 would put a stop to that nonsense immediately. 42 loves his bro with his whole heart and was glad to pick a fight with anyone who gave him any trouble at all. the whole neighborhood knew it too bc the only person allowed to bully 1610 is 42 himself!

☆ in fact, 42 doesn't win the lottery to enter visions in the first place, which saddened both brothers when they found out. so because they're at separate schools now, 42 makes sure his twin knows that if any fuckery is afoot at visions that he'd be more than happy to roll up and dogwalk any fool who tries it. 1610 laughs him off but knows his bro has got his back for sure

☆ 42 likes to pretend 1610 is the nerdy one, but they are both very big anime and manga nerds. every time they hit up any bookstore, they both make a beeline for the manga section and argue over who's gonna read the newest one first (they have to share cuz those books cost some moneeyyyy, man)

☆ 1610 and 42 love their uncle to pieces, OFC. they both pick up separate traits from him, even. 42 was inspired to start martial arts and boxing from watching videos on old digital cameras that aaron hung onto thru the years. they were of a much younger aaron back in his boxing days, when his family went to his matches and recorded them from the seats. 1610 was inspired to pick up graffiti and then even started doodling in notebooks bc of aaron

☆ 1610 is def the social butterfly and easily the most popular kid on the block by virtue of how friendly and outgoing he is. 42 is more introverted and keeps a small circle of friends, but everyone is cool with him nonetheless since they fuck with his twin bro

☆ since 42 stays at home the most (lol he a homebody) he picks up cooking much better than 1610 thanks to him staying in the kitchen to help his mom make dinner while they watch telenovelas together. 42 also knows how to dance bachata and salsa much better than 1610 too

☆ both twins love physics and math but 42 is more hardware-inclined. 1610 is about software, data, and formulas. 42 is good at taking things apart, putting things together, building and engineering. he kinda takes after his uncle aaron that way, and drove his parents nuts as a lil kid when he got his hands on radios, computers, clocks, etc

☆ 1610 loves softer brighter music like JID, steve lacy, smino, frank ocean, kid cudi, post malone, and nujabes. 42 is always bumping harder shit like pop smoke, waka flocka, zillakami, three 6 mafia, benny the butcher and some oldies like paul wall, wu tang clan, biggie smalls, MF DOOM and big KRIT. they tease each other's music tastes a lot since they're polar opposites in almost every way

☆ they actually have a shared playlist where they add new music they like (probs on some e-1610 spotify or soundcloud equivalent since everything is slightly skewed on e-1610 tbh). both of them check it periodically, and 42 is the more frequent contributor

☆ they both make art but 1610 is the artsier kid for sure. 42 doodles occasionally but he's not as enthusiastic about it as his twin is. they both go around the city tagging walls whenever they have any free time, though. 1610 loves colors, expressive styles and is good at coming up with cool ways to draw text. 42's lines, accuracy and technical skill can never be beat

☆ 1610 has superpowers, sure, but his fighting skills are trash! 42 was always the scrappy one, not 1610, so he shows his twin how to properly throw punches and other useful fighting knowledge. it def comes in handy in the future

☆ jeff loves his sons to death but he often finds himself butting heads the most with 42 since they're so similar, it kinda drives them both nuts. it def gets worse once aaron starts gossiping abt what jeff used to be like when they were kids, giving 42 plenty of ammo. they love each other but their relationship is just as complicated as it is between jeff and 1610, and 42 would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the rift between his dad and uncle himself

☆ the minute the twins turn 16, 42 goes out and gets his drivers license on the first try (computer quiz AND road test aced) and rubs it in 1610's face almost constantly. 1610 likes to throw back that there's no parking space for another car on their block, so he can't even get his own car even if he wanted to anyways

☆ whenever the boys really fight, the whole city seems to know. they squabble a lot obvi, they're brothers. but the very few times they've given each other the silent treatment like for real, everyone in the family tries to get them to make up since it's unsettling to see two peas in a pod be so hostile with each other

☆ and since they've always been attached at the hip, 1610 being enrolled into visions felt. weird. everyone thought 1610 was gonna take it the hardest but surprisingly 42 had a harder time adjusting since he always saw his bro in the hallways at school, and was so used to him knowing the latest gossip of anybody in their grade. without 1610 around as often, 42 becomes even more withdrawn than usual

rio looks up from the pot suddenly, glancing at the time. dinner was almost ready and she… hadn't seen not hide nor tail of her son this evening. he returned home from school a couple hours earlier, choosing to skip going to his boxing class to shut himself in his room.

fine. teenagers can be moody sometimes and rio would rather keep her moody son at home where she can keep an eye on him, rather than worry about what he's getting up to on the streets.

strange thing is, though... rio hadn't heard a single noise come out of that room all night. 42 usually liked to have at least some music playing, maybe video game noises out of his nintendo... oh, what was it called again? whatever, that nintendo thing he played on sometimes.

rio placed the lid on the pot and lowered the flame a bit before making her way over to her twin sons' bedroom door, hesitating a bit when she noticed no light was filtering out from the bottom either. okay... that was weird, too. neither of her sons ever went to bed before dinner. ever.

the one time rio dared to try and send her sons to bed without dinner years ago-- as punishment for fighting right there in the kitchen that time-- both twins hollered so loud they got concerned knocks on their front door from various different neighbors. never again, rio remembered thinking that time.

now, the bedroom door stands oddly quiet and completely hollow without any signs of life behind it. rio knocked anyways, hoping against hope itself that 42 didn't go ahead and sneak out of the house without her knowledge. if he did sneak out, he's grounded for 3 months, rio thinks to herself mostly as reassurance. she nervously picks at a nail and strains to hear anything behind the wood.

she thinks she hears a groan and decides to try her luck by slowly opening the door. hopefully he's not in there... y'know, doing teenage boy things, either. dios mío.

rio swings the door open to...

...a completely pitch-black room, save for the sliver of streetlight filtering in past a crack in the window curtains and casting an eerie yellow glow on anything it could touch. it is cold, and also deathly quiet.

rio is shocked.

she walks over to the right side of the room where 42's bed is pushed up against the corner, next to the windows. on that bed lies a big lump, buried under several layers of blankets. the lump stirs.

rio crosses her arms. "mijo, mi amor. are you sleeping? …pero qué te pasa, papí?"¹

42 rolls onto his back and glares sleepily at his concerned mother standing at his bedside. it's dark in the room, but rio's face is illuminated by the living room lights pouring in from the open door. she's wearing a tilted smile, but coupled with the worry lines on her forehead, it isn't fooling anyone.

42 slowly closes his eyes, chin still under the covers, and lets out the most world-weary sigh rio has ever heard coming out of someone as young as him. if it weren't coming from her own son, she might have even laughed.

she immediately sits down, lifting the cover off of 42's chin to check his temperature all over his face. he tries to wriggle away.

"maaaaaa, stop..." he grumbles, trying to pull the covers up higher over his head. "'m not sick, mamí, forreal… chill."

rio leans on a hand. "¿si no 'ta enfermó pues qué es?² what's wrong?"

42 doesn't answer for a bit and rio exhales through her nose. " 'moré, what are you doing in this pitch-black room all by yourself? no light, no music, no nothing. what's wrong? you look like you're on a death bed!"

42 finally opens his eyes again, and blinks a few times as he says, "nothing, ma. seriously, i'm just... tired. that's all. i'm fine."

"you don't look 'fine' 42, you look like 2 seconds away from flatlining."

another sigh from the boy. rio rolls her eyes and places her hand on his forehead again, then strokes his cheek.

"is it 1610? hmm?" rio asks 42. she asks so unbelievably gently, as if by only mentioning his brother's name she would shatter something in the room. a mirror or something.

42's heart clenches at the love and care his mother is showing around this particular topic. it was true, and he couldn't even deny it. having 1610 in the house less and less every week, not seeing him in the hallways at their local high school, receiving sparser and shorter replies to his texts... it was all building up in his chest and the dam was pretty close to bursting. especially now as his mom was lovingly stroking his cheek as she checked in with him. how embarassing. rio wouldn't see him cry, not right now. he closed his eyes and willed the tears away, for her sake.

miraculously, 42's voice didn't crack or waver when he said, "yeah. yeah, i miss 'im."

rio crooned something saccharine in spanish and placed a kiss on her son's forehead. she saw right through his cold tough guy act, as expected. with how much of a mama's boy 42 was, it would've been impossible not to. they spent way too much time together for her to miss how he dragged his feet getting ready for school in the mornings, how he's been skipping martial arts and basketball practice more often lately, and how unenthusiastic he's been in general.

rio chuckles as she lays her cheek on 42's forehead for a second before sitting back up. "ay, bendito. 42, you know your brother is just down a few blocks from here. why don't you go visit him soon?"

42 shuffles under the covers. he's unsure if he should even admit this, but he proceeds anyways. "uhm. he's not answering my texts lately, so." he feels strangely guilty about this, like he just snitched on his twin somehow even though he has no reason to suspect that at all.

rio sighs and looks off into the distance, bracing herself for what she's about to say. she looks back down. "yeah. i know. he doesn't answer mine, either. i was hoping he was talking to you, but... well. "

something in 42 stirs a bit. "i bet he thinks he's in some fancy private school, around rich kids, now he's too good for us," it's a weak attempt at a joke, but rio smiles down at him anyways.

"don't worry. the second he gets home this weekend, he's on house arrest. okay? he's gonna be chained to you the whoooole time. and i'm keepin' watch."

it's not much, but 42 still takes that little bit of hope and holds it gently in his mind.

"the second he walks through that door, i'm tackling him. i don't care." 42 smiles at the thought.

rio laughs, kisses his forehead again and stands up. "dinner is almost ready, by the way." she gives him a look. "you better eat with me tonight, because your brother is at school and your dad is doing overtime tonight. okay? okay."

42 sighs deeply to wake himself up a bit more as he sits up and scratches at his durag. "yeah, yeah. 'm comin', ma!"

¹ "but what is going on with you, papí?" (papí being a common term of affection for a boy in spanish, it doesn't always mean "dad" lol)

² "if you're not sick, then what is it?"

☆ until they get "too old" for halloween, the morales twins ALWAYS wear matching costumes. every year. every single year, no matter what. what they usually end up wearing changes every year and they aaaaaalways argue over it, of course. notable costumes so far: batman and superman (age 13), two ninja turtles (age 9) (im thinking mikey and donatello bc of personality but lbr rio most likely forbade either of them to be leonardo bc the twins would deadass get into a fist fight over it), tom and jerry (age 2), mario and luigi (age 7), woody and buzz (age 5), peter pan and captain hook (age 10), and-- rio's favorite-- thing 1 and thing 2 (age 4)

☆ 42 was surprisingly always very popular with the girls at school. in middle school, 1610 was the geeky one with braces and acne. 42 got off relatively easy in that regard and as a result was labeled "a heartbreaker" from the jump, which annoyed him. he has no interest in dating whatsoever and swore to never get into a relationship before graduating high school. he's got his mom and brother to take care of and he's going places after high school, damnit! 1610 on the other hand is a huge romantic and has a crush on a new person almost every year of school, easily

☆ the literal second 1610 set foot in the house after his spider bite, 42 was all over him asking a million questions since they both have that supernatural twintuition, and 42 sussed him out immediately. 1610 obviously had to come clean and tell his brother he was spiderman just like he told ganke, otherwise he was never gonna be able to change into his spider suit at home (plus they share a room, so. there's that)

1610 didn't even get to close their bedroom door all the way before his twin leaped up from his own bed and stalked over.

"óye, bro. what's up? what happened at visions?" 42 circled his brother, squinty-eyed in the exact same way their mom is when she's suspicious. 1610 dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on his sheets, trying to put some distance between them.

"uhhhh what're you talkin' about?" he tries casually, and immediately regrets it.

"uhhhhh what're you talkin' about?" 42 mocks. "don't play dumb with me. you KNOW what i'm talkin' about, stupid. first, you answer, like, none of my texts ever. then dad comes home sayin' you never let him talk face-to-face when he visited you a couple days ago. mamí has been texting and calling you nonstop, no answer either. you are a brand new person now, huh? qué te pasa, yo?"

1610 hunched his shoulders as he got up and slumped over to his desk. he was quietly weighing his options, nervously rearranging papers and sketches on the wooden table, wondering how he was going to break it to his brother that he was--

"lemme guess. you have superpowers now," 42 says easily. he crosses his arms triumphantly when big round amber eyes suddenly turn up to his face.

1610 searches his face for any hint of a joke. no... no way. did his brother just...?

"you're playin' with me. no way. how did you--?"

42's eyes widen. "wait, are you being deadass right now?" he threw his head back and crowed with laughter. "that was just a guess!"

1610 leaped forward and pushed his hand onto 42's mouth, shutting him up. "heeyyy hey hey hey hey shhhhh, man. damn, could you possibly be any louder? look," he took his twin by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "mom and dad can never know anything about this. okay? anything. not a word, you understand?"

42 pushes his brother off. "ok-ay man, cool it. i promise. we can shake on it, even."

wordlessly, they did their super secret handshake they came up with and perfected in the 4th grade in lieu of hooking their pinkies together. it was the morales shake, a move that binds them to secrecy and keeping promises til death. this was serious business. 1610 relaxes a bit once they're done.

"... okay. and i mean it, pencil braids. if you even breathe a word about this, or even think about--!"

"if you don't just tell me already, goddamn."

with a meaningful look thrown at his brother's way, 1610 raises an arm silently. 42 looks back expectantly.

1610 shoots a web up. he jumps up, using the web as a bungee rope to help him flip and land feet-first onto the ceiling. once his sneakers touch their ceiling, he stands up... upside-down. he stares at his brother and his brother stares back, mouth agape.

"niiiiiiice," 42 leans back and grins up at his twin brother, spiderman.

☆ 1610 is glad he has someone besides ganke to talk to about spiderman stuff, though. his brother listens way more attentively than his roommate anyways, and even tries to help sometimes esp when 1610 needs a quick distraction so he can switch from spiderman back into his regular clothes before the parents notice

☆ 42 is surprisingly cool abt his twin bro being spiderman, actually. even when they're texting 42 is careful not to imply 1610 is spiderman, and often calls stuff in to the police station if 1610 webs anyone up and lets him know. he also gets very good at bandaging up wounds quickly

☆ 42 is a hardass on the outside and contains his emotions much better than his twin, but he's kinda different around his family, since he loves them a lot. he jokes around a lot with them, esp around 1610. they also love pranking their parents, and are p creative at coming up with ways to make everyone laugh

☆ i personally picture 42's personality being sort of like huey's from the boondocks, especially around other adults. he becomes withdrawn and speaks very clearly and directly, and is very shy around strangers. some ppl mistake that as him having an attitude problem but his friends and family know better. only difference between huey and 42 is that 42 isn't nearly as woke lmfao

☆ meanwhile, 1610 becomes a motormouth around strangers and is quick to hug and kiss random family members at family reunions. as a lil kid, he'd always be the one up at the counter ordering for the both of them and chatting with the cashiers, or bus drivers, or whoever. as he gets older and used to the spiderman thing, he chats and jokes with randoms a lil less. he has to save the good material for when the mask is on

☆ 42 is a better writer than he is an artist, actually. he has notebooks filled with poetry and lyrics he scribbles down on post-it notes just to stick them in there for safekeeping. he's also been working on a sci-fi story since he was in 6th grade in absolute secrecy; he doesn't want a single soul to see it. he'd be mortified if anyone saw the nerdy shit he comes up with

☆ even tho 1610 has never fought anyone or been scrappy with anyone else, he's very good at wrestling and dodging punches thanks to his brother.

☆ 42 is the more fashion-inclined twin, even tho they're both sneakerheads. 42 just pays more attention to accessories, the fit of his clothing, how to pair the right shoes with the right jacket. 1610 throws on anything comfortable and calls it a day, and it gets even worse after he becomes spiderman. 42 clowns his brother SO HARD after he finds him wearing yellow sweatpants with an oversized red adidas hoodie and a green puffer jacket once (it was when 1610 came home from fighting a shapeshifting lizard that tried to take over cypress hills. the sweatpants were on backwards)

☆ 1610's sense of humor is geeky and he always tries too hard with his quips and jokes. he usually gets "secondhand embarrassment" chuckles from ppl. 42's style of comedy is a mix of dry humor and unintentionally being funny. this dude will say something clever with the straightest face ever and have the ENTIRE room in stitches without even meaning to

☆ just to nail home how different they are, even tho they share a room, you can tell EXACTLY which half of their room begins and ends. 1610's half is cluttered, vibrant, covered in posters and action figures, collages and trinkets on every available surface. 42's is as clean as a hospital room, and he ALWAYS makes his bed every morning. 42 has a poster or 2 hung up but he's not much for decorating in general. he's more into alphabetizing his bookshelf and looking for more efficient storage to put under his bed

☆ when jeff looks at his sons, he sees aaron and himself and sometimes it scares him. when the boys were around 12 (the Evil Year) he made SURE to sign them up for camp trips that summer and keep them close together as much as possible. he hates to see his boys drift apart at all and is the 1st one to call it out if he sees it. he just doesn't want his boys to end up like he and his brother did…

☆ … and then other times? it genuinely makes him feel a combination of irritation and also fondness bc sometimes 1610 and 42 really really remind him of aaron and himself, esp when they were young. ESPECIALLY when they argue. in every playful slap on the shoulder, every arbitrary competition started out of nowhere, every sleepy brother slowly sliding onto the other's shoulder during nighttime car rides, he sees it. he sees them, and then he sees his past. and with every little difference between the boys slowly cracking open like a chasm with each passing day, sometimes he thinks he can even see his future.

☆ 42 is cool or whatever but i also hc he's kinda… weird sometimes. it gets worse when his twin bro goes off to visions, he keeps staring at walls while sitting in dark rooms and eating at weird hours of the day. rio caught him fast asleep practically hanging off the window sill one night, and another time jeff found him having an entire conversation with a brick wall once while on patrol. 42 refuses to answer any questions

☆ after 1610 gets into visions, becomes spiderman, tells his parents abt his plans to go to princeton, etc... 42 eventually starts feeling a type of way (a jealous way…) their parents also seem to pay attention to 1610 more whenever he's home just to add insult to injury. he knows he's not supposed to, but he often finds himself thinking about the prowler gloves and schematics aaron left behind. he managed to grab them and hide them in a gym bag one day while helping his parents clear out aaron's apartment. the tech currently lives under his bed…

[mistmarigold]

What if Sunjae didn’t die that night? Part 6 (lovely runner au)

[See all the parts here.]

As soon as Sol steps into her room, she finally lets out a tiny scream that was lodged in her throat the entire time since Sunjae carried her.

She clutches her heart and swoons (as is appropriate) while her blushing cheeks wouldn’t calm down.

“Sunjae is the sweetest, aww,” she wheels to her sunflower plant and sprays some water on it.

The fangirl in her was so tempted to go and tell all of her internet mutuals so they could all collectively blush, swoon and praise Sunjae. But the other part of her wants to keep Sunjae like a secret, especially their past. Plus she doubted that anyone would believe her anyway.

Once the high of everything came down, Sol settles into her bed and cuddles up with one of her plushies. She thinks about her day again, going back to the interview and the raging disappointment she had felt after seeing the stairs and that one employee walking down towards her. She was so hopeful about the opportunity so it hurt, she wasn’t going to be toxic positive or make excuses. But disappointments like these had almost become a part of her life since that accident and so she tried to not let it weigh her down for too long. She’ll be sad, and then she’ll let it go. Something better will come along for her.

Thinking about the office obviously led her to think about Sunjae again, carrying her down the stairs. Taking off her rose-tinted fangirl glasses specifically, she could feel the tension between her and Sunjae the entire time. She had read enough books and watched enough TV to know it deep in her bones. It was probably just the awkward tension with her chair and everything, Sol reasoned to herself. Because why would Sunjae be interested in her in that capacity? Plus, he was just too nice as a person, that’s it. There was nothing more there.

***

There was definitely something there, Sunjae was sure about it. He hoped she wouldn’t feel his over the top yearning or the tension between them - because, was it there in spades. He had no idea how to explain it: ‘Oh, hi so I might have been had a crush on you for years and now it’s oozing out and I’m on cloud 9 every time I’m around you?’

Could she already tell that? He acted like a weirdo when he called her name. Sunjae grabbed the cushion and screamed into it, kicking his legs in frustration.

His mind went back to Sol’s answer in the car about her interests and the job opportunity. He was tempted to call the production office and tell them that he’d only do the movie if they get Sol on board. He had that power to do it. But did he really want to do it? What would Sol think if she ever found out about it? No matter how much he does it in secret, these things had a habit of coming out and blowing up in his face. So, if it does, what would Sol think? Would she appreciate the help?

Sunjae sat up and thought about it, given whatever he knew of the present Sol. He wasn’t sure. Maybe she would be okay about it but there was a chance she would be extremely angry at him for jumping in this way. Even though he wasn’t sure, a part of him was leaning towards the latter. It would blow up in his face.

Plus, the problem was never her experience because the employee had said that they wanted her. It was the access issue. What if he built a room for her so she could work on the main floor…. Sunjae shook off the idea. He was going to create more problems for her. And he was 100% overstepping - he knew that.

Just then his phone buzzed, with an incoming message from an old friend, Hyunwoo, that he meets every quarter.

“Sunjae, you mentioned that you were interested in a short film for a festival. Are you still looking for something like that?”

Sunjae frowned. He had talked to him about that once 2 years back so he was surprised that he remembered it.

He continued reading, “I’m sending you a script for a short film that another friend wrote. Let me know if you’d be interested and we can see it from there.”

Sunjae opened the script and got lost in it for the next hour. It was a 20-minute film so it wasn’t that long but he had ideas and notes that he wanted to discuss and possibly include.

Sunjae called him up, “I want to do it. But I’ve some notes.”

“Hi to you too, man,” his friend’s lazy voice came through.

“Sorry, were you sleeping? It’s 5 pm,” Sunjae replied.

“I was taking a nap. Don’t you want to ask who wrote it?”

“I read the name though I don’t remember the guy much apart from that one time I sang with him and In-hyuk for some gig. I didn’t know he was a writer,” Sunjae mused.

“He isn’t. He’s a detective actually so I’ve no idea how he found time to write a film. But he sent it to see if there’s potential and well I think it has room with some minor adjustments. So do you want to work on it? Though I’ve to say I don’t have your level of budget so you gotta take a paycut,” his friend warns.

Sunjae chuckled, “it’s fine, I’ll take it. Do you have a team?”

“Yes, of course. You, me and Tae-sung - three is a team, no?”

Sunjae rolled his eyes, forgetting he couldn’t see.

“I’ll start working on the team soon too but first let’s talk about your notes with Tae-sung soon so we can take this script to where it needs to go and then go from there.”

Sunjae bit his lip, hesitating if he should ask, “can I give you a recommendation for someone?”

“For what?”

“Um editing maybe?”

His friend was quiet, “you don’t know what this person does and you’re recommending them to me for a film that isn’t even sure it’s gonna be made?”

“Uh yeah.”

He sighs, “Sure, send me their portfolio and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, man,” Sunjae hangs up.

And then thinks about how to get Sol’s portfolio. If he was the same Sunjae in school, he would’ve definitely figured out how to find it. For lack of a better word, 19-year old Sunjae was a bit of a harmless stalker for Sol.

He looked it up on search websites with her name and portfolio and then browsed through a bunch of them (clearly there was more than one Im Sol). He considered directly asking Sol but wasn’t sure about how to approach it and didn’t want her to get the wrong hints or give her any hopes in case things didn’t work out. Finally, he remembered the digital space for all creatives and searched Im Sol there. Luck was in his favour because it was really hers.

And, she was good. Great, even. She didn’t have a lot of work done but whatever she had, it was quality work. Sunjae had a meeting with In-hyuk soon anyway, so he decided to go through her entire portfolio properly later and sent it to his friend.

Hm, maybe 34-year old Sunjae wasn’t that bad at harmless stalking either, who knew? Technically, he wasn’t even pulling any favours here so nothing would blow up in his face so it should all be fine.

*

It wasn’t all fine. He wasn’t sure if it was his guilty conscience - for what - or if something was really up but Sol seemed a bit reserved, almost …distant.

Sunjae’s friend Hyunwoo, Taesung, and Sol were supposed to meet at Sunjae’s place to discuss the story. Sunjae didn’t intervene or invite anyone directly, it was all Hyunwoo (after getting his approval to borrow his place). But ever since Sol had come in, she was fairly reserved. Maybe it was the nerves?

But then, he saw her talking and laughing with Hyunwoo and Taesung and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it all or if she had an issue with him. Another thought came to him that he was trying really hard to ignore because it was childish and incredibly petty.

He distinctly remember that when they were young, Sol and Taesung had a thing. Maybe a thing wasn’t the right way to say because he didn’t remember them actually dating but Inhyuk had told him about Sol pursuing Taesung back then and he saw her that night waiting for Taesung after their gig. Could it be…?

Sunjae shook his head just as Hyunwoo called him.

“Okay so this seems like it’s finally going somewhere. Thank you everyone for all your feedback, I’ll incorporate them with Taesung and then we can take it from there. How does that sound?”

Taesung and Sol nodded.

“Sol, it was really nice meeting you and I’m excited to work with you!” Hyunwoo puts his laptop in his bag while Taesung casually smiles at Sol.

Hyunwoo looks at Sunjae and was about to say something but a subtle shake of his head stopped him from saying anything incriminating. But Sol noticed it.

“Thank you for having me! Let me know if you need any help with the script or anything else, I’ll be happy to be of assistance,” Sol bows a bit.

“I most likely will. Alright, we’re heading out. Sunjae, thanks for letting us borrow your place.”

“No problem, feel free to do it again,” Sunjae smacks his back lightly.

“Sol, we can drop you, if you’d like?” Taesung offers.

Before Sunjae could intervene, Sol shook her head, “thank you but my friend is picking me up, we’ve a plan later.”

Taesung nodded, “have fun! It was nice seeing you all these years later.”

Sol went red, shaking her head and fiddling with her fingers, “don’t remind me, please! I’m sorry for not recognising you right away - I don’t remember a lot of things from back then.”

“No worries, see you later,” Taesung waves at her before nodding at Sunjae in lieu of a bye. Sunjae did the same, closing the door after Hyunwoo and Taesung.

He turned around to see Sol on a call.

“That’s fine, Hyunjoo. If it’s inconvenient, let me know and we can reschedule,” there was a pause, “okay then I’ll see you.”

Once Sol hung up, she looked up at Sunjae before hurriedly looking away, leaving him confused.

“Would you like to eat something while you wait?” He asked, walking to his kitchen.

“No, I’m fine, thank you. She’ll be here soon,” she says.

Sunjae turns around and leans against the kitchen island to look at her, who was still looking away.

“Is there a problem?”

Sol sees him then, “no, why would there be a problem?”

“Then why do you seem like you can’t stand to stay a single extra second here with me?” He asks in a measured tone and pace even though his heart was beating erratically.

“No, there isn’t anything like that,” she looked away again.

“Say that again while looking at me, please.”

She looks up at him but isn’t able to hold his glance.

“So, there really is a problem. What is it?”

He grabbed a chair and sat so they are more eye level even though they were a bit far away from each other.

Sol kept fiddling with her fingers, biting her lip.

“Sol.”

It still felt …tingly to say her name out loud.

She doesn’t respond right away but Sunjae waits until she finally speaks.

“You told Hyunwoo about me, didn’t you? He didn’t see my portfolio out of nowhere, it was you.”

She wasn’t asking.

Sunjae nodded and she took a deep breath.

“Why?”

“Because I liked your work and he needed a team,” Sunjae replies, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, facing her.

Sol nodded, “How did you find my work?”

Sunjae considered lying but then Sol did a sad smile and he couldn’t say anything.

“Tell me this, did my work come first or Hyunwoo’s proposal?”

“But why does this matter? Hyunwoo asked me about the film because he knew I’ve been wanting to do something for a film festival. We were talking about logistics and I mentioned you and sent him your portfolio that I found online, that’s it. What is so wrong about this?” Sunjae asks, softly.

Sol looks away, biting her lip.

“I didn’t ask or tell you because I didn’t know if this would work out. Really, we don’t even know if this film will be made considering how we’re going about this at the moment and I didn’t want to string you along,” he continues, “Sol, are you mad about this?”

She finally turned her face to look at him, “I didn’t tell you about my job thing in the car so you can pull your connections and find me one, Sunjae. Yes, it’s been a struggle but I don’t want you to pity me and-“

“Hold on right there, I didn’t do any of this because I pitied you,” he gets off his chair and kneels in front of her, “I did it because your work is actually good. Even the employee at the production office kept saying it over and over again that your work was really good so it was never about your experience or quality of work.”

She looks down at him, “but you hadn’t even seen anything before you asked Hyunwoo, that’s the point.”

Sunjae took a moment, “yes, you’re right. I didn’t but I know you and your drive and passion for what you love-“

“You literally haven’t seen anything-“

“When did Eclipse debut?”

Sol frowned, “what is the connection?”

“Do you know or not?”

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I know?”

Sunjae smiles, “that’s the point. You’ve been dedicated as a fan to Eclipse for years. Isn’t that enough proof of your passion? I took that and applied it to your work especially after knowing how you feel about working in film. Yes, I looked up your portfolio later and I still haven’t seen the entirety of it - I saw some Eclipse things there as well - but I didn’t force Hyunwoo to take you on board, Sol. I told him about you and sent him your portfolio - it was his decision afterwards.”

Sol still looked uncomfortable.

“Why would I pity you?” He asks at last because he wasn’t sure he understood himself.

She hesitated, was about to say something then held herself back, then lightly patted her wheelchair.

“But why would I pity you about this?” Sunjae asks instead.

“It hasn’t been easy, Sunjae. Things usually also don’t work out like this. Even the fact that I’m talking to you - Ryu Sunjae - here feels like a fever dream. And you are a good person, a really kind person-“

“And that I felt bad for you because you’re in a wheelchair so I used my connections to get you a job, is that correct?”

Sol lightly flinched - barely there but Sunjae noticed and felt bad - and nodded.

He sighed, taking a minute to ponder how to go about this without invalidating her or portraying himself as something he wasn’t.

“Listen to me, I don’t care whether you can walk or not. It doesn’t hamper your personality, you are still Im Sol even if you can’t walk. Not once did I mention to Hyunwoo that he should hire you as a favour to me or to you. I just pitched you there, like my agent would pitch me to potential work opportunities. To be honest, I did a bad job because I made no introductions and didn’t even give you a winning chance. But it still worked out because Hyunwoo saw the same thing I did: incredible passion and personality. That’s all there is to it, please have faith in yourself, if not me.”

Just then her phone rang.

“I’m coming, I’ll be right down,” Sol takes it before hanging up.

Then in a small voice, she says, “thank you.”

This time around, Sunjae beams up at her, “I didn’t do anything but you’re very welcome. Please don’t think bad about me and if you think I did something wrong, please tell me.”

Sol shakes her head, “you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Is your friend downstairs?” He gets up and grabs two granola bars.

“Almost here. I should leave,” Sol wheels around to grab her bag and heads towards the front door, Sunjae following closely behind.

“Here, take these as a snack. Have fun tonight,” he opens the door.

“Thank you. It’s nothing special, we’re just going for a dinner at this new place that opened up,” Sol moves towards the elevator, pressing the button.

“Sounds nice. Say hello to your friend for me. I’ll see you off-“

“No, it’s fine. I can go on my own, thank you,” she gives him a small smile as the elevator comes up to their floor.

Sunjae’s voice hardens unintentionally, “I didn’t say you couldn’t go on your own, Sol. I just meant I would like to see you off but if you don’t want me to come I won’t.”

Sunjae steps back, waiting for her to go in.

“I didn’t mean in that way. I just meant I don’t want to bother you anymore, that’s all. Thank you for hosting, your apartment is very nice. And I’ll see you later,” she says, as the doors close.

Later, when Sunjae settles on his couch, his phone buzzes, with a message from Sol.

“I’m sorry to bother you but can you please tell Sunjae that it was less Eclipse and more Sunjae. He’ll know what I’m talking about. Thank you so much!”

Despite everything that had happened, a small widening smiles takes over his face as he slowly drifts off to a nap, knowing that Eclipse gave him the edge that he might not have had otherwise as just Sunjae.

[romidoes]

— my heart is yours to take

[mistylacrimosa]

So AO3 is down again

[mechazushi]

After the Fall {AN ACTUAL SHORT STORY THIS TIME} [Kaiju No. 8] (Could be considered as possible Ep11 spoilers; interpreted artistically)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Kafka Hibino." Captain Mina Ashiro started, "No. Kaiju Number Eight. I am taking you into custody." She leveled her gun to him. Her voice as steady as her hands, taking care not to let an ounce of sadness that had filled her soul melt her outward resolve. The companies were distraught and heavily wounded. Most of the infrastructure in the training area had been reduced to ash. An arched border line had been etched into the pavement around them. One side was mostly intact with spider cracks in various locations. The other side was a pale, dusty mess. No surface from the border and beyond was traversable with all of it being splintered, jutting, and uneven.

At the peak of the arch stood a half dissolved monster, melting back into a man. When the flecks peeled off and drifted into the remnants of the wind, a face began to emerge. Kafka Hibino, the former member of the Third Division had ousted himself as the elusive Kaiju Number Eight. He stood stone still, letting fragments of his alter form slough off as he never took his eyes off his captor. He wanted to think he knew what she was thinking, that this is just protocol, that there was no place in her heart that harbored ill will or intent. Mina wouldn't use her gun against him, right? They could still be friends, that he could still fight for his spot at her side.

He couldn't tell. Mina was unreadable as ever and Kafka couldn't blame her. He had been reprimanded enough times to know that this was just how she had to be in front of others in the Division. Her place wasn't a position where she was afforded the leeway to be physically emotional. Emotion was considered weakness, and she had to be strong for the others. To the officers, she was being seen as a strong captain, standing against a Daikaiju threat. It didn't matter that this was Kafka, that everyone had seen that it was Kafka who made a harrowing choice to save the lives of thousands. All they saw now was a monster, no matter how human and familiar its face was.

"Hoshina. I need you to cuff him." Captain Ashiro commanded. Hoshina heard, but was refusing to act. He couldn't bring himself to look at the situation in front of him. A man he trusted, a man he had considered as a friend and compatriot, was confirmed to be a threat to the world. Hoshina wasn't sure at the beginning what Kafka's circumstances were. He knew that things were off, but he chose to ignore them. The whole reason for letting Kafka join as a cadet was so Hoshina could investigate him, and he failed to do even that. All because he couldn't look past his smile. How could a man with a smile so bright and genuine ever be a threat to others. He didn't believe it, refused to believe it. He wasn't going to slap cuffs on a man that didn't have a threatening bone in his body.

But was he a man? Everyone saw Kafka gain impossible speed. They all saw Kafka, as a kaiju, blast into the sky and launched the bomb to a safer distance. Was Kafka a kaiju now because he was strong and dangerous? Or was he still a man because he understood sacrifice? Kaijus didn't need to deal with pesky feelings. They didn't have to worry about what others thought of them. All there was in kaiju minds was to eat and destroy. Kafka could express emotion, and has expressed desire outside of destruction. If Kafka knew that others would turn and run in fear if they knew what he was and what he could do, why did he do it anyway?

"Hoshina." Captain Ashiro commanded again, dislodging her Vice Captain from his thoughts. He still didn't want to do this, still choosing to believe in the man behind the monster's mask, but it wasn't a good idea to make the Captain repeat herself. Reaching into his side pouch, he dug up one of the plastic handcuffs that most officers are issued with. They were issued with the intent that defense members might encounter people taking the opportunity for ransacking during invasions and could preform arrests until the offender could be picked up by proper authorities. Hoshina walked up to Kafka and held the industrial zip-tie in his hands. Every neuron in his skull felt like it was screaming in retaliation, making his hands hesitate in the action of placing Kafka under physical arrest. He almost wanted to laugh. Did anyone here actually think that these meager restraints could hold back a person with a registered fortitude rating? Kafka slowly held out his wrists in front of him, looking like a toddler that was expecting a ruler to come down on them in punishment.

"It's okay. I know." Kafka whispered imperceptibly to him. His head was bowed solemnly, but he looked at Hoshina as his face remained ever reassuring. He almost felt like slapping the look off of him. How dare he act like this. How dare he try to be apologetic and caring for others in this situation. Why couldn't he be an asshole and run, fight, do anything to save himself. For god's sake, why can't he be selfish. Having to deal with a daikaiju on the loose would have been less gut wrenching than having to send a fellow soldier to an uncertain fate.

"Captain Ashiro, I can explain-" Reno Ichikawa was shouting as he came barreling over the fallen debris as nimbly as possible. Following behind at a much slower pace was Kikoru Shinomiya.

"Save it Officer Ichikawa!" Ashiro barked at him, "Telling by your outburst at this time of all places, tells me you have some knowledge on this as well." she holstered her side arm now that Kafka had been successfully restrained.

"You too, Shinomiya. Hoshina told me about his suspicions about how you managed to neutralize the honju at the acceptance trials earlier this year and with you showing up behind Ichikawa here, I can assume that you're in on this too." She began to wordlessly direct those around her and made moves to stand behind Kafka and Hoshina.

"Okonogi, send several vehicles over to the training area. We have multiple wounded and a lot of tired soldiers that I think would rather drive than walk back to barracks. Leader Ebina, gather some of your people and start marking a path through the rubble so we can transport the wounded."

"Roger that, Captain. Do you want me to send an armored vehicle for Kaiju Number Eight?" replied Okonogi. Captain Ashiro looked hard at Kafka, now back to appearing completely human and in the plastic cuffs. Hoshina was looking right at the captain. Blood had stopped dripping down his face minutes ago, but it was still clear that he wasn't in any shape to fight anything more powerful than a mouse right now. She took in the fact that his hands were placed gently on top of Kafka's limply curled fists, a sight that Kafka couldn't pull his eyes away from.

"No. Leave the armored vehicle for now. We might need it to be fueled and stocked for whatever happens tomorrow." Ashiro replied back after serious consideration. With most of the Division looking the way it did, and the person most capable of going head to head with a daikaiju of small size looking like death warmed over, she acknowledged the fact that Kafka; or Kaiju Number Eight, she hadn't stopped her brain from fluctuating between the two, hadn't taken the opportunity to bolt for the hills. She figured if he was going to try anything, he would have as soon as she leveled her sidearm at him. In the bright moonlight over head, she could see the person she once considered a friend chuckle noticeably.

"Thanks for that, Captain Ashiro. Those trucks don't have the best air condi-"

"Save it. I don't want to hear another word from you tonight." Captain Ashiro commanded. She could clearly see the word's effect on him as he visibly flinched at her sharp tone. As the officers around her got into position and steadied their hands on their rifles, she pointed her finger off over Hoshina's shoulder, indicating that they should start moving. Kafka's feet regretfully began to shuffle around to face the direction he was supposed to go in, but when he tried to take an actual step he hissed loudly and nearly collapsed to his knees onto the pavement. Hoshina didn't think for a second as he rushed forward to catch him before he landed, propping himself under Kafka's broad chest and grabbing his shoulder to keep him balanced. The chorus of six safety switches all clicking off in unison could be heard behind the two of them.

"Shit- Sorry, sorry! Knees were locked." Kafka said, glancing over his and Hoshina's connected bodies.

"Sorry." He added, seemingly addressed to no one in particular.

'Maybe that was addressed to all of us.' Hoshina thought as he helped Kafka readjust to his feet. Once he felt okay enough to walk, he began to move forward at a sluggish pace. It was clear to Hoshina that he wasn't walking slow on purpose, and that it really must have taken a lot out of him to propel himself into the air and sucker punch a twenty kiloton yoju bomb into the lower stratosphere. Hoshina kept a hand on Kafka's upper back as he gently guided him through the path Ebina's team had marked earlier. With the moment they were in being as quiet as possible, save for the occasional echoing crash of broken rubble hitting the ground all around them, Hoshina took a second to think.

'I mean, when you think about it, that should be enough to knock the wind out of anyone capable of doing that in that sort of situation.' He stunned himself with the words in his head. How could he even try and logic out what a man with the power of turning into a Kaiju was even qualified to accomplish? This whole situation was absurd and he hated it. He hated everything in that moment. He hated Kafka for putting himself in danger, he hated Captain Ashiro knowing she was only doing her job, he hated himself because he was the one who told Kafka not to get attached to others on the job because God only knows what could happen and here he was, feeling attached knowing damn well that he was going to feel like shit because he was basically loosing the best damn thing this Division had going for it!

Hoshina couldn't writhe in his personal hell for much longer as the group had made it to the busted doors of the training grounds. The remnants of his fight with Kaiju Number Ten as well as debris from the explosion had all been pushed to the sides as best as possible. A few tents had been erected to preform triage and separate the barely scratched from the mortally wounded and treat them appropriately. A rotating convoy of open air trucks and military jeeps were set up at the far end of the street carrying the tired and lightly wounded to somewhere else on base for rest, if it was available for most. All activity seemed to slow, almost stopping in some areas as Kafka led his paltry parade showcasing his imprisonment through the masses. It almost felt like a display of a man being condemned. Okonogi pulled ahead of the line in her own commandeered jeep and pulled it to a stop in front of Kafka and Ashiro. The captain told the six behind her to grab a vehicle for themselves and follow close behind, before wordlessly hopping into the passenger seat of the car. As Hoshina hopped in the exposed backseat, he could hear Kafka groan and hiss as he settled into the spot on the bench next to him.

"Hssssss, haaaa, hoooo. Wow, sitting down. A novel idea. Who knew?" Kafka talked exhaustedly as he fumbled with the lap belt using his restrained hands.

"Miss Okonogi, not to presumptuously assume your driving skills, but you mind being careful and avoiding potholes and barricades on the way to my cell. I'm gonna take a nap." Kafka's head slumped unceremoniously against the metal bar framing the back of the jeep and immediately started to breath heavily, almost as if he was asleep already. His closed eyes meant he didn't get to see Mina's irritated glare she sent his way before she took the clipboard that Okonogi brought with her. Hoshina rested his elbow against the car's sidewall and placed his face in his hand, staring at an unaware Kafka.

'He's asleep. This no good, dirty, rotten, lying, mutant Kaiju bastard is asleep?' Hoshina thought angrily. As he felt the car move forward and tuned out Captain Ashiro and Okonogi's conversation, he realized all he could think about in that moment was him.

'A man saves an entire base and this is how we thank him.' Hoshina's inner monologue continued. He knew he wasn't the only one here who felt like this, and when the news got out in the morning he was sure lots of others were going to have mixed feelings on this as well. Arresting him was for the best, he knew that as well. Good intentions or no, human or no, it didn't change the fact that Kafka can become a kaiju. The whole purpose of the Divisions was to eliminate kaijus. The fact that Kafka was allowed to breathe, let alone sitting in the back of a car with the two most powerful people on base at rock bottom of their best, spoke volumes about how crazy and fucked up these circumstances were. Protocol was kill on sight, and Kafka knows this. Yet here he was, sleeping the rest of his freedom away.

'It wouldn't be hard, either.' Hoshina thoughts continued, 'I may not be able to put up a good fight at the moment, but we can assume he's mostly human right now. He's asleep and tired, which means he's vulnerable' He played with the tip of the handle connected to his sword. 'I could end it all for him right now and he wouldn't be wiser.'

But he wouldn't. Hoshina couldn't lay any hand on him with deadly and harmful intent behind it, now and forever. Monster or Human, it didn't matter anymore. Nothing could ever change the fact that Hoshina had one percent of trust in this man right now. And he wondered if Kafka could feel that too, because why else could he be so blissfully asleep right now.

'He's not going to be like that for long.' Hoshina thought bitterly. The protocol was kill on sight for honju and yoju, yes, but that stopped at daikaiju. they were killed like any other threat, but whatever that was left of the body after the fight was sent off for research. Research and experimentation. Hoshina knew that it was a snowball's chance in hell that the leaders of the Defense Force were just going to let them keep Kafka on base, but were they going to let Kafka stay alive and intact? Hoshina could feel his heart be poisoned and start to cramp up at the thought. He had to look away for a moment , lest tears started to mix with the blood and stain his cheeks even more. It took several sharp breaths and a solid minute of mental filing to help his chest feels normal again.

Hoshina tried to take another look at the mystery that was his fellow soldier. A face as still as a forest pond, covered in already healed scratches. Light from the moon created soft shadows on his eyelids and neck. flickering and shifting in tandem with the shakes and jolts coming from the moving jeep. His worker's tan looking more pronounced than it usually did. Kafka looked stoic and peaceful, which created a stark contrast to the unearthly and demonic visage Hoshina has associated with Kaiju Number Eight. It was an awful situation Hoshina found himself in.

On one hand, he wanted to come across the bench and hold him. Whisper calmly in his ear that everything was going to be okay. That he won't have to worry about whatever that's going to come for him in the morning. On the other hand, he wanted to be the one that was being held. To have all those sweet and empty promises whispered back at him, to be told that things would be fine for him too. Kafka won't have to leave the base, that this whole kaiju transformation business was just the concussion talking, and the base will be back to operational in no time at all.

None of those things were going to happen. The base reconstruction was going to take forever, Kafka was going to have to leave, and nothing was going to be fine. Hoshina turned away again, feeling the chest tightening again and wanted to keep his tears to himself for the time being. He couldn't cry now because there was a superior officer present and didn't also want to wake Kafka. He couldn't cry in the morning because he needed to be strong in the face of whatever decision that was to come down on his officer's head. As the first shifts of color indicative of the approaching dawn began to brighten the night sky, Hoshina tamped down every bit of emotion he had to let out later into the first few minutes of however much sleep he was going to get in those twilight hours.

This was going to be a rough few months, wasn't it?