#draft writing

[isagrimorie]

[WIP/Draft] Marching Ever Forward. Chapter 1,

Just more of this story I'm noodling on, I don't know if this chapter is finished.

Chapter 2:

In his brief life, Billy had experienced many awkward situations. Most of them happened around Agatha.

Billy realized his mouth was hanging open and shut his mouth. He knew Agatha would make fun of him if she caught Billy staring at her, but he might as well not exist. Agatha's focus was on the guy who claimed to be Nicky.

She looked stunned. And--delicate, as if Billy reached out and touched Agatha, she would break.

"Nicky?" Agatha whispered.

The skull face flickered into a more fleshy and Human face. "Yes, mama, it's me. Nicky."

Agatha flickered and turned pale--literally. The color drained from her skin, and Billy realized he could look through her.

Then, just as suddenly, Agatha launched herself at Nicky.

"Wait!" Billy yelled to remind Agatha she was a ghost and could pass through Nicky.

Or… not.

To Billy's surprise, Nicky also lost his color and became… a ghost?

Instead of passing through Nicky, he caught his mother, and the two ghosts held each other. Agatha wept and Nicky held on to his mother.

The moment felt too private.

He felt a twinge of something, like a phantom limb. They still haven't found Tommy. With that thought, Billy turned on his flight and floated up.

The three-headed hellhound growled at him, and Billy sped up, not wanting to become its chew toy.

He flew just in time to see government vehicles arrive. Fear shot through Billy, and he dropped to a more secluded area and switched back to civilian clothes.

He decided to wait for the mother and son duo in a coffee shop a few blocks away. Just in case.

Billy decided against broadcasting where he was. Agatha had a preternatural way of finding him.

He asked her once how she kept finding him and Agatha said, "You light up like a Christmas tree, Billy."

"Really?"

"No," Agatha said with a shake of her head.

Billy had just finished getting his order when Agatha found him.

"There you are, Teen."

"Hey," Billy said and looked at Agatha. She looked composed and fully corporeal. With her hands in her pocket and an imperious air, as if Billy hadn't seen her crying a few minutes ago. She projected a familiar wall of detachment. After months with Agatha, Billy recognized it as her way of keeping others at arm's length.

Using 'Teen' was also one of her tells.

"Everything okay?" Billy asked.

"I think so," Nicky answered. He, too, looked human--unnervingly so. Tall, with dark brown hair and a crooked smile that reminded him of--

"You look like Rio," Billy blurted out. "I mean, you also look like Agatha!"

"And you look like you descended from a toaster," Agatha snapped. "Congratulations. Now you know what happens when two women--"

"Is that coffee?" Nicky interjected, thankfully cutting off what Billy was certain would have been an embarrassing and devastating verbal skewering.

"I got us all ice coffees."

"Blech," Agatha said, sitting down with a flourish. "What's wrong with a good espresso?"

"I've never had coffee," Nicky said, taking the chair between Billy and Agatha.

Agatha paused, stared at Nicky, and asked, "Your mother never let you have coffee?"

"Not the Earth equivalent, at least. She gave me something from Asgard once, and I didn't sleep for a week. Mother decided I shouldn't touch caffeine after that."

"See, people think she's the fun parent," Agatha said, pointing at Billy as if this was all his fault. "I'm the fun parent!"

Before Billy could respond, a snuffle and a bark drew his attention. He looked down and saw a cute French bulldog that looked nothing like the three-headed monstrosity from the alley.

"Oh," Nicky said, patting the beast masquerading as a cute dog, "This is Servious. He's sorry about earlier--he was just looking for me. He wasn't supposed to be here."

Agatha wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe your mother gave you a dog."

A brief memory flashed in Billy's mind of a cute and fluffy puppy he and his brother adored, followed by Bohner's anguished: "She made me kill the dog!"

"You don't like dogs," Billy said.

Nicky turned to Agatha, looking affronted. "You don't like dogs, Mama?"

Agatha glared at Billy but softened her expression when addressing Nicky. "They're not my preference. I do have a rabbit as my Familiar."

"You made us rabbit stew once," Nicky said as if remembering something.

"And it was delicious," Agatha replied. She reached for her iced coffee as if she needed to occupy her hands.

"It was," Nicky agreed, mimicking Agatha's movement but leaving it at that.

"What are you doing here? I don't think… Rio would appreciate that you're here."

"Mother will be angry," Nicky acknowledged.

"So why did you risk the wrath of Lady Death herself?" Agatha's tone was casual, but her attention was sharp and serious.

"Despite my appearance, I am not that young," Nicky said dryly.

Agatha tsked. "Don't give me that. In terms of demigods, you're no older than the Teen."

Billy's mind caught on the word 'demigod' but decided to keep it to himself for the moment, and sipped his now very watered-down coffee.

"Is 'Teen' really your name?" Nicky asked, redirecting his focus to Billy.

Surprised by both question and attention, Billy spluttered and coughed. "No, no! I have a name. I'm Billy Maximoff, no, Kaplan! I'm Billy Kaplan!"

"I know," Nicky said with a sudden crooked grin. "Mother's been very annoyed with your sudden appearance."

Agatha let out a cackle.

Billy pulled out a tissue to mop his face and glared. "I can see the family resemblance."

"I'm sorry," Nicky said, offering more napkins. "You were just too serious."

"That's my boy," Agatha said, still cackling.

"A few months ago, I felt my spirit summoned to the mortal realm. I felt like Mama needed me."

The sudden topic change silenced Agatha's laughter like a valve being turned off.

"It's been months, and Mother hasn't given me a concrete answer. It's been two centuries, and you didn't seem to be coming home anytime soon, so I decided to visit the mortal realm to check on you."

Nicky looked sideways at Agatha, who seemed as thrown as Billy felt. Billy was transported back to the moment Nicky had talked about, to the Road that wasn't a road. In a cabin, and Alice slowly dying in front of him. The planchette flew around to spell: "N-I-C-H-O-L-A-S-S-C-R-A-T-C-H.”

"Jesus Christ," Agatha muttered. "You've inherited your mother's talent for dropping verbal grenades."

Unrepentant, Nicky shrugged. "You asked."

"And where is the Lady now, huh? I'd think she'd be here dragging you back to Undead City by the ear."

Nicky tilted his head as if listening for something. "There's an interstellar war. A lot of bodies have been dropping. A lot of Death gods were slaughtered a few years ago, so Mother had to pick up the slack."

"'Death' gods?" Billy interrupted. "There are other Death gods? I thought Rio was the Death god?"

"Mother is not a Death god," Nicky corrected. "Mother is Death. The original concept of Death. Growth and decay. All the Death gods work under her domain."

"And now all the other gods are dead?" Billy asked, concerned.

"A man waged a one-man crusade to kill the gods. He nearly succeeded, but Thor and the Mighty Thor stopped the god slayer."

"Bet your mom loved ferrying all those stuck-up gods," Agatha quipped.

"It's her job," Nicky said with a shrug.

Agatha groaned. "Ugh."

"It's why she hasn't noticed yet. Mother's stretched thin. I figured it was time for me to take my holiday."

Agatha snorted. "Death's son takes a Holiday."

Nicky reached for Agatha's hand, "I wanted to visit you."

Billy could see Agatha twitch at the earnestness in Billy's voice. She was battling tears.

"Nicky, when you say things like that…" Agatha's eyes sparkled.

Billy looked down to give mother and son some privacy.

"You're such a softie, mama," Nicky teased.

[softgh0stbites]

A little sneak peak of a really angsty piece ♡

Just a rough draft with no corrections but I wanted to show you how many words it already has and I have much further to go ;w;

I can't help but write Vincent so sweetly ♡ it's my weakness fr fr.

[artbyblastweave]

I remember meeting a guy at a bar a year or so ago who told me he worked at the international consortium that does the porn parodies of all the top-grossing film releases. He said that the whole Barbenheimer situation presented his combine with some spectacular highs and lows. Because he said that with Barbie, right, the thing about Barbie is that there's already kind of a three-way ideatic, structural parallel between the curated artificiality of Barbie as a children's toy, the curated artificiality of Barbie as a mass market film, and the curated artificiality of pornography as a genre. Add on top of that that Barbie as a film is already feeling this tension, right where it's trying to be about a character graduating from the platonic sexlessness of a children's franchise to the functional-and-frank sexuality of being a living human woman, but it's also being bogged down in the "Everyone-is-beautiful-no-one-is-horny" aesthetic restrictions of any contemporary big-budget mass-market film so the two states end up looking pretty similar, he said. I mean the film itself is very aware of that tension, right, with that joke about how "casting Margot Robbie is the wrong move if you want to make that point," all that jazz. So, all that in mind, Barbie-themed pornography, he said, is in a weird way actually kind of complementary to the extant project, gesturing at unaddressed tensions and ideas, a dark mirror, the shadow self it wants to deny but can't, there's a lot of room to play in the space. He used the adjective "Lynchian" a couple of times, he seemed super stoked, he was talking with his hands. Oppenheimer, on the other hand. Oppenheimer he said presented a problem. Because obviously you can eroticize the detonation of an atomic bomb, we're all probably three mutuals removed from someone on this site who does exactly that, but obviously that's a niche market, and moreover it's a market that has a ton of overlap with high-minded thinkers who treat the historical use of atomic weapons against Japan with the level of gravity that atrocity demands. So they were stuck. They were really stuck. He told me that they'd been pulling their hair out for months trying to square the circle and all they had to show for it was a big whiteboard with the phrase "Grope-nheimer" written on it

[ash-and-starlight]

oh my god no way..,the lion,,,, is homosexual ,, 🫢

happy lunar new year! did you know that despite what wikipedia says the lion dance is a relatively recent practice, and was in fact invented in @ranilla-bean’s fic Pride of Place? click the link for more fun facts!

[rs-hawk]

Working on my novel and couldn’t figure out why it felt so empty. I didn’t have any filler. It was all 100% plot. The characters only interacted when necessary. I didn’t prattle on about the scenery or how the birds sounded. I had all my fuller stuff that I loved saved in another file because I “didn’t need it”.

Y’all, I knew this existed in TV shows but it didn’t hit me until this that everything is being whittled down. We are so starving for filler that we snap up anything. I unload all mine on Tumblr or keep it in a massive Google Docs. It SUCKS.

Honestly? Death to plot necessity. Revive filler. Revive unnecessary interactions. Revive just vibing with characters sometimes. I don’t want to just consume the plot and I don’t want to just create the plot either.

[ghostedbunnie]

there's something empowering in holding the razor to simon's throat when shaving his face for him. it's peak intimacy for someone like him who doesn't trust easy.

but to you he is like a well adjusted cat, purring with his eyes closed while showing his belly. his most vulnerable parts.

it warms your heart and you need to show it so you take the razor away from his throat for a second to drop a barely there kiss on his freshly shaved cheek. simon only reacts with satisfied hum and cracking one eye open.

"what was that for?" he asks.

"just felt like it." you shrug not wanting to be all sappy.

[sttoru]

satoru has his phone in one hand while the other is patting your head, occasionally twirling a strand of your hair around his forefinger and thumb. he loves moments like these, when you’re cuddling together in bed, quietly enjoying the serenity that comes with it.

that is, until you interrupt the cozy silence with your random request.

“‘toru,” your voice is soft, yet it carries a tinge of pain and fear in it. your shaky breath doesn’t go unnoticed either. you tilt your head back and cup his face with one hand, to which satoru responds with by nuzzling his cheek against your palm.

“don’t you ever die before i do, ‘kay? promise me.”

a frown quickly finds its way onto his features as he lowers his phone, setting it aside on the bed. that statement sure is an unexpectedly gloomy one.

“aww, baby,” satoru sighs softly, reaching up to cover your hand with his own. he brings it close to his lips to press a kiss against your palm. he is about to make a joke—an attempt to lighten the mood—but catches the tears sparkling in your eyes and decides against it.

“of course i won’t,” is his determined reply. satoru gazes into your eyes with a reassuring smile. “don’t you do the same, yeah? because if you were to leave this earth before me. . .”

the light in his eyes dims just thinking about the possibility. he swallows thickly before responding, his tone serious as he declares his undying love for you;

“. . . i’d follow your soul right into the afterlife.”

[evilmafuyu666]

[dusty-metaphors]

the fact that im a times new roman girlie is one of the blandest things about me

[moonstoast]

yes & no by natalie wee

[dollyfetti]

katsuki thinks it's fucking crazy whenever you get cuteness aggression from him-- a large, brawny, 6'2 boulder who isn't "cute" in any sense!

he may not openly admit it, but he adores when you excitedly rush into the shared bedroom where he's reading on his kindle, glasses perched on his nose. your face radiates with lovey dovey affection as you enter his space. and he loves it even more when you set aside his kindle and climb into his lap, covering his face in sweet smoochies. you wrap your arms around his thick neck and squeeze his body close. you adorably squeal, "missed you so much baby..!", filling up the room (and his swelling heart). you pull back to glance at his face where you're met with an uncharacteristic expression of fluster from your boyfriend.

"...my cutieee!!" you giggle, snuggling into him once more.

and the blond can't even say anything beyond a bashful, "love ya, sweets" cuz he just can't fathom the amount of joy he feels when you express your love for him.

[balyena-lu]

Anti-Matter

She has a collar that must not be removed as it is the only thing that ties her to the world. In order to activate her powers, she has to turn the gauge that partially turns her dangerous. Releasing it entirely turns her incorporeal and touching matter causes the nearby particles to react explosively akin to that of a mini-nuke.

After the explosion, she can be safely retrieved but you need a full-on customized hazmat suit to avoid severe contact, the suit is made of the same material as her collar. Her hair and eyes become inverted depending on the severity of the collar loosening. This is an indicator of the percentage of her power being released.

If she has white hair streaks, she can imbue objects with anti-matter and set of timed explosions. Her ability will lessen as the power supply gets depleted. If half of her hair is white, she can teleport and become intangible, appearing as a mass of dark particles slightly floating above the surface.

The neck collar appears metallic, with two knobs that need to be fully twisted in order to lock it in place or remove it completely. 

[robo-writing]

Cockwarming with Logan is one of those ideas that sound good on paper, but could never work in reality. Listen up, and I’ll tell you why. (18+)

The heat of you enveloping him is nirvana itself, your hands on his body sending him to cloud nine. They linger on his chest, pawing, caressing, blazing a trail from his collarbone to his face, nails burying themselves into the darkened locks as you stare at him with nothing short of pure adoration.

“Feel good?” You ask, and he’s so drunk off you that he can only bring himself to nod, breath hitching when your hips circle themselves in his lap. Your laughter is nothing short of melodic, pressing yourself into the broad length of his chest.

He feels everything like this—the heat of your nude body against his, the scent of your body wash, your shaky breaths—every sense on overdrive. It’s there you sit, unmoving, unwavering, every movement causing your pussy to clench around him, and in turn, makes his chest rumble appreciatively.

“Should listen to you more often,” Logan mumbles, biting his lip at the feeling of you nibbling at his neck. “Just full of bright ideas, ain’tcha?”

“Full of a lot of things,” you sigh, and the sound makes his cock twitch.

But, there’s something missing.

Your quiet whimpers, your doe eyes staring at him from above—the way your pussy clenches in response to every touch, pulsing around his cock—it’s good, but it’s not enough.

Tugging at him, an itch he can’t scratch, it gnaws away at his mind until he finds himself searching for more, and the realization hits him like a wave.

It’s patience he lacks, an epiphany that has his lips curling into a smirk. It’s a lesson soon learned when his fingers dig into your hips and lift, surprise evident on your face. His downfall, as with most things, is his lack of patience. When it comes to you, he could even go as far to call it greed.

“Logan?” You ask, not a word given in response. His palms run up your back, large digits squeezing at your flesh, and yet the feeling does little to settle the sudden flare of nerves that build in your core. The calm before the storm, the impending sense of doom, women’s intuition—or maybe it’s because you’ve become intimately familiar with the devious smile that spreads across Logan’s face.

“Logan? What are you—“

You’re soon cut short, interrupted by the feeling of him slamming you back onto his cock, your short gasp making ego soar to new heights.

“Sorry doll, change of plans,” he grunts, bouncing you on his lap without a care in the world. The sudden change of pace has you scrambling for purchase, hands clamoring around his neck as you struggle to keep up.

“Logan, wait—ohmygod—“ you whine, and the sound is like music to his ears. His attempt at soothing your worries is his hand sliding across your ass, the sharp sting of it making you jump, but lucky for you Logan’s there to pull you back onto his cock.

Up, down, up, down. A constant rhythm that finally satiates the beast within him, the dull thud of skin on skin enough to have him melting into his chair, a wave of content spreading through every vein of his body. In contrast, you feel your own becoming more tense by the second; toes curling, breath caught in your throat, an incomprehensible string of noises leaving your lips as Logan watches with bated breath.

He tuts at you, the sound nothing short of mocking. “No runnin’ away sweetheart, this was your idea.”

“Not like this,” you moan, hiding yourself in his neck. “Wanted to relax…”

Your voice trails off, unable to speak when Logan’s practically fucking every rational thought from your head. Slowly but surely, any idea of protest is drowned out by the heat that burns inside of you, a dull ember that builds into a blaze, unable to focus on anything that isn’t Logan or his cock grinding inside you.

You can hear his laughter bellowing deep within his chest, amused at your brainless state, right before he quickens his pace. “Trust me sweetheart, I’m real fuckin’ relaxed right now.”

[mattmonss]

Yaaaaaaaaaaawnnn

[heritageposts]

What does life in North Korea look like outside of Pyongyang? 🇰🇵

Hey, I'm back again with a very scary "tankie" post that asks you to think of North Koreans as people, and to consider their country not as a cartoonish dystopia, but as a nation that, like any other place on earth, has culture, traditions, and history.

Below is a collection of pictures from various cities and places in North Korea, along with a brief dive into some of the historical events that informs life in the so-called "hermit kingdom."

Warning: very long post

Kaesong, the historic city

Beginning this post with Kaesong, one of the oldest cities in Korea. It's also one of the few major cities in the DPRK (i.e. "North Korea") that was not completely destroyed during the Korean war.

Every single city you'll see from this point on were victims of intense aerial bombardments from the U.S. and its allies, and had to be either partially or completely rebuilt after the war.

From 1951 to 1953, during what has now become known as the "forgotten war" in the West, the U.S. dropped 635,000 tons of bombs over Korea — most of it in the North, and on civilian population centers. An additional 32,000 tons of napalm was also deployed, engulfing whole cities in fire and inflicting people with horrific burns:

For such a simple thing to make, napalm had horrific human consequences. A bit of liquid fire, a sort of jellied gasoline, napalm clung to human skin on contact and melted off the flesh. Witnesses to napalm's impact described eyelids so burned they could not be shut and flesh that looked like "swollen, raw meat." - PBS

Ever wondered why North Koreans seem to hate the U.S so much? Well...

Keep in mind that only a few years prior to this, the U.S. had, as the first and only country in the world, used the atomic bomb as a weapon of war. Consider, too, the proximity between Japan and Korea — both geographically and as an "Other" in the Western imagination.

As the war dragged on, and it became clear the U.S. and its allies would not "win" in any conventional sense, the fear that the U.S. would resort to nuclear weapons again loomed large, adding another frightening dimension to the war that can probably go a long way in explaining the DPRK's later obsession with acquiring their own nuclear bomb.

But even without the use of nuclear weapons, the indiscriminate attack on civilians, particularly from U.S. saturation bombings, was still horrific:

"The number of Korean dead, injured or missing by war’s end approached three million, ten percent of the overall population. The majority of those killed were in the North, which had half of the population of the South; although the DPRK does not have official figures, possibly twelve to fifteen percent of the population was killed in the war, a figure close to or surpassing the proportion of Soviet citizens killed in World War II" - Charles K. Armstrong

On top of the loss of life, there's also the material damage. By the end of the war, the U.S. Air Force had, by its own estimations, destroyed somewhere around 85% of all buildings in the DPRK, leaving most cities in complete ruin. There are even stories of U.S. bombers dropping their loads into the ocean because they couldn't find any visible targets to bomb.

What you'll see below of Kaesong, then, provides both a rare glimpse of what life in North Korea looked like before the war, and a reminder of what was destroyed.

Kaesong's main street, pictured below.

Due the stifling sanctions imposed on the DPRK—which has, in various forms and intensities, been in effect since the 1950s—car ownership is still low throughout the country, with most people getting around either by walking or biking, or by bus or train for longer distances.

Kaesong, which is regarded as an educational center, is also notable for its many Koryŏ-era monuments. A group of twelve such sites were granted UNESCO world heritage status in 2013.

Included is the Hyonjongnung Royal Tomb, a 14th-century mausoleum located just outside the city of Kaesong.

One of the statues guarding the tomb.

Before moving on the other cities, I also wanted to showcase one more of the DPRK's historical sites: Pohyonsa, a thousand-year-old Buddhist temple complex located in the Myohyang Mountains.

Like many of DPRK's historic sites, the temple complex suffered extensive damage during the Korean war, with the U.S. led bombings destroying over half of its 24 pre-war buildings.

The complex has since been restored and is in use today both as a residence for Buddhist monks, and as a historic site open to visitors.

Hamhung, the second largest city in the DPRK.

A coastal city located in the South Hamgyŏng Province. It has long served as a major industrial hub in the DPRK, and has one of the largest and busiest ports in the country.

Hamhung, like most of the coastal cities in the DPRK, was hit particularly hard during the war. Through relentless aerial bombardments, the US and its allies destroyed somewhere around 80-90% percent of all buildings, roads, and other infrastructure in the city.

Now, more than seventy years later, unexploded bombs, mortars and pieces of live ammunition are still being unearthed by the thousands in the area. As recently as 2016, one of North Korea's bomb squads—there's one in every province, faced with the same cleanup task—retrieved 370 unexploded mortar rounds... from an elementary school playground.

Experts in the DPRK estimate it will probably take over a hundred years to clean up all the unexploded ordnance—and that's just in and around Hamhung.

Hamhung's fertilizer plant, the biggest in North Korea.

When the war broke out, Hamhung was home to the largest nitrogen fertilizer plant in Asia. Since its product could be used in the creation of explosives, the existence of the plant is considered to have made Hamhung a target for U.S. aggression (though it's worth repeating that the U.S. carried out saturation bombings of most population centers in the country, irrespective of any so-called 'military value').

The plant was immediately rebuilt after the war, and—beyond its practical use—serves now as a monument of resistance to U.S. imperialism, and as a functional and symbolic site of self-reliance.

Chongjin, the third largest city in the DPRK.

Another coastal city and industrial hub. It underwent a massive development prior to the Korean war, housing around 300,000 people by the time the war broke out.

By 1953, the U.S. had destroyed most of Chongjin's industry, bombed its harbors, and killed one third of the population.

Wonsan, a rebuilt seaside city.

The city of Wonsan is a vital link between the DPRK's east and west coasts, and acts today as both a popular holiday destination for North Koreans, and as a central location for the country's growing tourism industry.

Considered a strategically important location during the war, Wonsan is notable for having endured one of the longest naval blockades in modern history, lasting a total of 861 days.

By the end of the war, the U.S. estimated that they had destroyed around 80% of the city.

Masikryong Ski Resort, located close to Wonsan. It opened to the public in 2014 and is the first, I believe, that was built with foreign tourists in mind.

Sariwon, another rebuilt city

One of the worst hit cities during the Korean War, with an estimated destruction level of 95%.

I've written about its Wikipedia page here before, which used to mockingly describe its 'folk customs street'—a project built to preserve old Korean traditions and customs—as an "inaccurate romanticized recreation of an ancient Korean street."

No mention, of course, of the destruction caused by the US-led aerial bombings, or any historical context at all that could possibly even hint at why the preservation of old traditions might be particularly important for the city.

Life outside of the towns and cities

In the rural parts of the DPRK, life primarily revolves around agriculture. As the sanctions they're under make it difficult to acquire fuel, farming in the DPRK relies heavily on manual labour, which again, to avoid food shortages, requires that a large portion of the labour force resides in the countryside.

Unlike what many may think, the reliance on manual labour in farming is a relatively "new" development. Up until the crisis of the 1990s, the DPRK was a highly industrialized nation, with a modernized agricultural system and a high urbanization rate. But, as the access to cheap fuel from the USSR and China disappeared, and the sanctions placed upon them by Western nations heavily restricted their ability to import fuel from other sources, having a fuel-dependent agricultural industry became a recipe for disaster, and required an immediate and brutal restructuring.

For a more detailed breakdown of what lead to the crisis in the 90s, and how it reshaped the DPRKs approach to agriculture, check out this article by Zhun Xu.

Some typical newly built rural housing, surrounded by farmland.

Tumblr only allows 20 pictures per post, but if you want to see more pictures of life outside Pyongyang, check out this imgur album.

[cheriecoke]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”