#i got a queue filled up tho

[kopimoss]

with all the cost increases but no pay increase, I might have to start another job on weekends and be less active here sorry zzzzz

[brighteststar707]

so sleeeeepy

[thanksfortheflaglove]

.

[suosgirl]

Party in the USA (the dayger’s going crazy)

Word Count: 15k+

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Characters: Hayato Suo, Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Kotoha Tachibana, Jo Togame, Ren Kaji, Mitsuki Kiryu, Akihiko Nirei, Choji Tomiyama, Toma Hiragi, Kyotaro Sugishita, Taiga Tsugeura

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, gn!reader, alcohol (lots of it), alcohol consumption, weed, weed consumption, cigarettes, ooc (most definitely), shitposting, for fun! – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: I feel very well qualified to write about this. I have hands-on experience and feel strongly about this topic. Please feel free to send me an ask regarding any of my references (I have attended many, many daygers.) This is actually so americancore and niche of me – sorry (not sorry). Also! Don’t be fooled, I hate America!

Hajime Umemiya | “Hey! Hi! Are ya hungry?”

The first face you see when you walk in, all in his shirtless glory

An absolute king at grilling – he’s got burgers, hotdogs, skewers, the works

The lettuce and tomatoes? Yeah, he grew them

Will take every chance he has to tell everyone too

Be careful though – for as much as he’s hot, he’s also a yapper

Being behind the grill unlocks a side of him that not many know – his dad side

“There’s a lot at steak… it’s un-grill-ievable!”

Buzzed & responsible – doesn’t let himself get too lit when he’s grilling

But once everyone’s had their fill and he’s got some downtime? Oh he’s inviting everyone to shotgun a beer with him

Can slam down a can in like 3 seconds no joke

Then, he’ll turn to you with stars in his eyes waiting for your words of praise and acknowledgement (how do you tell him that he did it so fast that you didn't see it?)

Toma Hiragi | “Whaddya drinkin’?”

You’re telling me you WOULDN'T trust this man to get the best liquor for the party?

Gonna go out on a limb here and say that he leans toward either Hennessy or Casamigos

Throws back his shots like a fucking champ – no chase needed (he likes the burn of it)

Definitely a heavy weight, so he’s got at least 2 of whatever he’s drinking just in case

Also doesn’t drink chase because of his stomach, so you know – go big or go home

Never lets you pour your own shots (chivalry isn’t dead, everyone)

And … if you ask him nicely … he’ll birdfeed it to you

Ren Kaji | “Chase is over there – you need help getting it?”

With how much candy he has to inhale on a daily basis, it just makes sense that he would be getting the soda, juice, or whatever pairing he thinks goes well with the corresponding liquor

And he definitely went with Hiragi to pick everything up (so cute)

Also in charge of the playlist for the day (I know his music taste is impeccable)

If you tell him this, though, he’d try to be so nonchalant about it (inside his heart is doing little pitter patters)

I feel like he has little shit tendencies and once everyone is feeling good he’ll see how many times he can queue Party In The USA until someone notices (wears his headphone tho bc ofc he would get annoyed)

Akihiko Nirei | “I made it! It’s really good – want a sip?”

JUNGLE! JUICE! PRO!

I just know he’s got the most insane recipe in his notebook (he’s got the exact measurements and brand names too)

Based on countless interviews, many trial runs, and many hangovers –  he’s perfected it to a T

Literally one cup has everyone on a good one – and he’s somehow got it to not taste like alcohol at all?

So proud of it too – if you tell him how good it is he’s got hearts in his eyes and he’s offering to get you another cup (with your consent of course)

Haruka Sakura | “I just grabbed the first one I saw … is it good? Do you like it?”

He’s new to this you know, so he’s keeping it cute and simple and easy

Besides, you can never go wrong with a pack of seltzers

He’s so cute and flustered about it too –

Like imagine him standing in front of the fridges just looking at all of them and getting slowly overwhelmed by all the different types and seeing that they all have different alc % and it’s getting so confusing

He just grabs one that looks decently good or has a name that seems kinda familiar to him and he storms off

And it’s literally like Twisted Tea or White Claws or something

But, as I said, you can never go wrong with a nice basic seltzer

Compliment his choice (even if you know it was made on a whim) and he’ll blush (he blames it on the summer heat)

Hayato Suo | “Do you want me to get your back?”

Sweet, thoughtful king

Brings sunblock and aloe vera gel because he just knows that everyone else will forget the basic necessities

If you need help getting your back, he’s more than happy to offer his services

Also – who would he be if he didn’t bring green tea shots (it’s a given)

He actually created them not many people know that

It’s always the perfect ratio too – never too strong and never too weak (the perfect balance)

Anyways, also a heavyweight (potentially) but gets just a bit touchy when he’s buzzed

So when he offers to reapply sunblock on you despite having done it less than 30 minutes ago, who are you to say no?

Kyotaro Sugishita | “I need a partner … You any good?”

This man absolutely demolishes at beer pong

Never leaves the table actually (and stays undefeated the whole dayger)

He’s so tall like he’s got built-in stats for it already

If Umemiya takes a break from grilling and comes to join him? Oh they’re absolutely wiping everyone

If beer pong was an Olympic sport, Sugashita would’ve already been scouted

Because he’s so good, he doesn’t even need a partner that’s at the same level as him – he just needs a partner

But – to him, making at least one cup is better than nothing, and if you’re able to do just that? Oh, you’re never leaving his side

Mitsuki Kiryu | “You want a hit, cutie?”

It’s actually canon that Kiryu smokes like I just know it in my heart and soul

Loves to make different blends too, some with rose petals and some with lavender 

His blunts are so pretty too, and he’ll use pink wrapping papers

Also has a small bong just in case anyone wants it in that form — and also edibles

And also cigs

He has money, why wouldn’t he show out?

His lighters all have decoden on them too, and they all have his name spelled on it (he was tired of people stealing them)

Also incredibly respectful – brings his own ashtray that he disposes of on his own

I feel like he transitions a lot of people into smoking for the first time (if they’re interested, of course! Would never peer pressure.)

But …. Oh boy… the way that he would gently tilt your head back to blow a hit into your mouth

Kotoha Tachibanau | “I’m gonna get you so wet!”

Give this girl a break she deserves to have fun!

Stays in the pool most of the time, but also loves to soak up the sun so she’s got her own self-care agenda for the day

Loves water guns! Brings like 2 or 3 of them

Also probably brings a book to enjoy by the pool when she’s tanning

Definitely the type to get the ice water from the coolers and spray anyone who tries to come within 5 feet of her

If she feels silly (and buzzed) she’ll pour jungle juice into them and shoot them into people’s mouths

Takes this time to truly relax and unwind (we love a work-life balance!) – and loves doing it beside you

Taiga Tsugeura | “Don’t forget to drink water!”

Absolutely brings cases of water and liquid IV

He’s all for partying, don’t get him wrong, but he’s also got to hit the gym tomorrow so

Makes sure that everyone’s got a bottle of water on them – his virtue is caring too much

Also decently good at beer pong, but his downfall is that he throws the ball too hard and ends up hitting people like 10 feet away from him in the head

Also strikes me as unhinged, so – if you’re cool with getting pulled into the pool, then he’s definitely your guy

Definitely does flips while diving into the pool to try and impress you (it works)

Jo Togame | “Need some help with that?”

What Sakura may lack in seltzers, Togame makes up in beer

If there’s one thing he knows, it’s a good brand of beer

Also clocked in my mind as a heavyweight, so if he’s up to drink, he’s bringing many many cases

Has a bottle opener that has sentimental value to him – probably one that Choji got for him

Can also pop it open with his teeth (but no one ever lets him because it’s bad)

("Sure, okay, whatever squares" — he listens.)

If he sees you struggling to pop the cap off, he’s already grabbing it from your hand and doing it for you – no questions asked

(Ask him while he’s buzzed, and he’ll do it with his teeth, all while staring into your eyes)

Choji Tomiyama | “Let’s take a shot!”

The first thing he does is do a cannonball in the pool (this is so canon)

If you’re a soju lover – he’s got it!

Brings all the flavors too, but is most partial to yogurt-flavored soju

Is flitting all over the party talking to everyone and anyone

(Tries his hand at beer pong – going to go out on a limb here and say that he sucks)

However! He is a heavyweight!

Can hold his own with Umemiya and Togame for sure

Is definitely the one gathering everyone together to take some shots

Will probably ask Kaji to play Shots by LMFAO and Lil Jon every single time (after the first time, Kaji starts ignoring him)

If you’re open to shots, is absolutely pulling you by your arm to take yet another one

[ppushable]

moodboard creds to @firefly--bright tytyty

low tide

jean kirschtein x fem!reader / multichapter / wc: 10.8k

part 2 of rose tinted hours

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Monday morning and here I am, missing out on my classes, struck with a sore throat and an invisible ax sticking out of my head.

Maybe the only nice thing about today is the man craning over me in the dark, feeding me porridge.

That, and the overly-sweet tea.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

cw: kissing.

there's a soundtrack for this one! completely optional, of course.

queue: ==> new home (slowed), austin farwell ==> dreamcore, daniel.mp3 ==> farewell, erikson jayanto ==> october, adrián berenguer ==> parfum d’etoiles, ichiko aoba ==> i was only temporary 2 u, my head is empty ==> might start singing - sped up, sheldon charlot

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The figures in front of the dorm converge in front of Jean’s car as they engage in some sort of conversation. Sasha (I think that’s Sasha) slinks around Jean’s taller form and attaches herself to the side of his car, being scraped off a moment later.

Unsticking myself from the window, I carefully reposition the dark blue curtains so that no light filters through, the simple action causing my head to swim as if filled with honey.

I got Jean’s flu. Which, obviously, is to be expected, considering what happened yesterday. Paired with the fact that we slept together last night.

As in, laid down and fell asleep in the same bed with nothing strange happening in between. Whoever came up with that wording needs to be shot.

Contrarily, Jean is perfectly fine. And despite all the urging that I’ll be fine too and that he shouldn’t skip out on classes, he’d insisted on staying right here.

Not that I’m complaining.

I glance at the red numbers projected onto the corner of the ceiling indicating the time as I sit back so I’m leaning against the wall. 8:28. Almost time for my first class, which I won’t be going to, as so firmly put by Jean before I shooed him away.

“If I come back here and the room’s empty, I’ll make Connie march into Hospitality with a condom pulled over his head with your name written on it.”

He’d do that, too.

Running my hands over Jean’s fleecy Cars blanket, I find and unlock my phone to type a quick message to Sasha.

me: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

me: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

Pray she doesn’t get the wrong idea.

sashacado: dw about it!!!

sashacado: 😏

I shut my eyes as the screen induces a sudden wave of dizziness. Alright then. Knowing her, everyone and their mom will know about this before the day ends. I toss the phone somewhere on my bed and it falls to the ground.

Jean, where are you?

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

He nearly barrels into an old lady in the soup aisle. With a profuse apology, he continues half-jogging to the fridges, glancing at the list on his phone.

🖤: onions, rotisserie chicken (should be on sale), chicken broth

🖤: oh also rice. and carrots and mushrooms if u can. plus milk. thats a must

🖤: im trusting u wkth this. if u spend over budget im scalping u personally

🖤: <3

He can’t help the little smile that twinges his mouth with the last text. There it is. The end product of many sleepless nights, wondering if his feelings were, in fact, reciprocated. All in a little text. Less than three. Two dumb symbols he’s dreamed of receiving. It makes his heart feel a little warmer in his chest, a little heavier, like a reverse-Grinchification. The good ending, he can hear Connie saying.

That, or he’s misconstruing the whole thing. That’s definitely possible too! She sends that little symbol to everyone. For all he knows, he probably moved up the friend ranking a little. It probably means nothing at all.

Watching the pill be so carelessly popped into her mouth, that small smile, the look in those eyes. Hands on the headboard. Hand on his body. Hand in his hair—

“Woah! Excuse me, sir—”

And then reality comes shooting back to him like an oncoming bullet train, because nothing snaps Jean out of his happy place like that voice.

“Kirschtein?”

Jean stops in his tracks and slowly turns, somewhat hoping it’s not who he thinks it is yet knowing at the same time. “Jaeger.“

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t run in a grocery store.”

And there he is in the flesh; Eren Jaeger, the hobo-looking microbiology major that for some reasons girls (even stone-cold Mikasa) love to swoon over. Not that he cares, really. What’s more important is the fact that he’s in full customer service garb: plain jeans with lanyard string sticking out of the front pocket, blue vest, retractable name tag.

And Jean can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Eren mutters, damn well knowing why.

“What, no ‘hello, sir?’ Aren’t— aren’t you supposed to be asking if I need help finding anything? Sir?” The old lady in the soup aisle is staring at him as he devolves into a full cackle.

Eren’s scowl deepens. “That’s low, Kirschtein, even for you.”

“Stop being such a pissbaby. I’m only laughing because it’s you.”

“Romantic.” Rolling his eyes, Eren shoves his hands into his pockets. “Speaking of which, don’t you have someone waiting for you at your dorm?”

Jean shuts up immediately and blinks. “What?”

“You know, your lover.” He smirks. “Sasha told us all about you two.” He ducks his head to do something on his phone and a second later Jean’s own pings.

aaron yogurt: One image attachment

Raising an eyebrow, Jean moves back against the aisle (away from soup lady’s scrutinizing gaze) before opening it. It’s a screenshot of a groupchat, with the first text being a screenshot from Sasha of what appears to be some texts.

sash: we did it boys

bald idiot: 🔥🔥💯💯‼️🤯🤯🥶🥶🥶🥶

bald idiot: everyone stand up and clap for sasha

sash: ill fucking kill you springer

miks: so are they together now?

sash: UH YEAH DIDNT U READ THE TEXT? JEAN TRANSFERRED HIS SICKNESS. HOW? THEY SLEPT OVERNIGHT IN JEANS DORM. TOGETHR. WITH NOBODY AROUND. ALL MY DOING TYVM. AND NOW THEIR STILL TOGETHEE.

min: That’s inconclusive, Sasha. You can get sick just being near a person.

marc (replying to @/sash): they’re*

marc: besides who would leave Jean there all alone overnight?

me: me

And then the screenshot cuts off.

“Romantic,” Eren drawls.

“Shut up.” Jean makes a mental note to find and perhaps tie Sasha to a rocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows you’re whipped. You’re like a little schoolgirl when it comes to this kind of stuff.” Bringing his fists up to his face, he puts on the stupidest face ever and giggles.

“Fuck off.” Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Jean tries to cover the heat on his face. “Just tell me where the hell you guys put the chicken.”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The sound of the front door unlocking heaves me out of the half-drowsy phase I’ve been simmering in for the last, what… I glance at the ceiling clock again. Half hour?

“Hey! I’m back!” Every word becomes a little louder as Jean barges down the hall, tosses something into Connie’s room, and appears in the doorway.

“What was that?”

“Huh?”

“The thing you put in Connie’s room.”

His shadow pauses. “Just… something for Connie. Is everything okay?”

I smile. “How the hell did you go to the gym like this?”

Plastic crinkles as he sets the bag down on the ground. “Well,” he says, walking closer, “I was thinking of you. And how much you love my really big muscles.”

My smile cracks wider. “Is that so.”

“Mhm.”

“Were you also—”

“Mmm?”

“—thinking about how pissed I would be—”

He inhales.

“—when I found you?”

His lips curve upward, maybe a little to close to mine. “Maybe a little.”

I tap his thick sleeve. “Go take this big thing off.”

He recoils immediately. “As you wish.” And sheds the coat, dumping it against his chair.

“Are you hungry?”

Fixing his sleeve, he shrugs.

“What do—” my voice cracks as it runs dry— “what do you eat when it’s just you and Connie?”

“Cereal. Bread sometimes.”

“I really expected better from you.”

“I’m healthy.”

I let my eyes drag shut. “Your idea of fighting off a cold is… going to the gym.”

“Healthy.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do the— does the window open?”

Clothes rustle. “Yeah. But I’m not opening it.”

“It’s hot.”

And he looks back. “You’re sick.”

“Well, I don’t plan to strip in front of you.”

Jean sighs but it only takes a moment for it to turn into a laugh. “Alright.”

I try to swallow but my throat’s dried up between the time I woke up and now. “I’m getting up.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“Aren’t you needy?” he teases. “What do you want? I can get it for you.”

“You’ll burn the dorms down trying to make tea.”

“Since when did you have such little faith in me?”

I crack my eyes open. “Connie told me you tried to stop a grease fire by splashing water on it.”

He’s rolling his eyes. “Your first mistake was believing Connie. He loves to spread misinformation. Especially about me.”

“Okay, Jean.” I shake my hand in his general direction and he takes it, large, warm hand clasping mine. “Pull me up.”

He smiles and leans in to wrap his other arm under my knees, his neck pressing into my face. Muffled, cheap cologne. “What are you doing?”

In one smooth movement, he releases my hand to slide his other arm across my back. Holding me at the anchor points.

“Wait.” Already a sinking feeling drains through my organs. “Jean, wait—”

With a small heave he lugs me off the bed and my arms immediately sling around his neck. “Jean!”

“Hmm?”

“Put me down!” And I would be laughing if not for my throat and the fact that I’m clinging on for dear life.

He looks down at me, still with that smile. “Hmm. No.”

And the way his voice rumbles through his chest into mine as he hums deeply makes me want to explode. I dive my face into the cloth of his sweatshirt, ignoring the strange way my weight is distributed, the chance that something might slip and I’ll fall to my untimely demise.

“You can let go of me.” He starts walking. “I won’t drop you.”

Pushing harder into his chest, I say, “I’m heavy.”

“No, you’re not.” As if to prove himself, he lifts me a few inches higher as he shimmies through what I think is the door. My grip tightens as the pressure on my back and thighs increases. “Okay, you’re choking me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Relax, okay? I’m strong.“

“Jean.”

“Come on, look at me.”

I have to force myself to meet his eyes.

It’s not just about how high up I am, or how heavy I might be, or how intimidatingly good-looking he is (I definitely look like shit). It’s about the power.

Things have changed since yesterday. Now it’s Jean’s turn to take charge. And just like he did, I’ll have to allow that.

==> new home (slowed), austin farwell

“Do you trust me?“

His words hit like boulders against my stomach and his eyes are so wide as they dig into mine, so willing to accept the outcome yet so full of this new, gentle compassion that I’ve never seen before. A willingness. An invitation. An assurance. A desire.

So many sides of Jean I’ve never seen before have been presented to me in the past day and it makes my head so heavy it might snap clean off my neck and roll across the floor with the other boulders like a macabre marble match.

Do I trust him?

With a final squeeze, I let my hands fall to rest on either side of his chest. He smiles, showing a sliver of teeth.

Of course I do.

I watch his face as we go to the makeshift kitchen. “So you want tea?”

Though he can’t see me nod, he should be able to feel it.

“It’s easy, right? I just boil some water, and then. I.” Seemingly unconscious to the action, he worries his upper lip as he thinks. “We’ll get there when we get there.” He looks back down. “Where’s the tea?”

With a stupid grin I point to the cabinet where I found the tea and Jean lifts me to height — fucking lifts me a good five feet into the air — so I can snatch the tea packets. “Put me down! I’ll kill your arms.”

He lowers me back to waist-chest height. “So that’s the tea.”

I set the box on my stomach. “You— you’ve never used it before?”

“Forget I said anything. Now what?”

“Now, we… are you sure you don’t want to put me down?”

He rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t separate like a chameleon’s. “I’m strong. Let me carry you.”

God I want to shut his smirk up so bad but if I’m in no position to reach up and… I don’t know. I’d do something. Arrogant little prick. “Counter.”

Jean obliges and I take the kettle one-handedly, emptying the old water and adding more, enough for two cups again. “You want some?”

“Is there enough for both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Hit me.”

I hit the plunger on the kettle. “Mugs.”

So we move like this, a strange, inefficient, two-person machine. I nearly drop one of the cups, all the cabinet doors are left open, and nearly a quarter of the milk got spilled because I cut the hole in the milk bag too big.

But we got it done. Like yesterday, I find myself drawing little circles into his back, and again, I have to stop myself. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish my sentence.”

“I know what you’re thinking anyway.”

What an asshole. “There’s milk all over the ground.”

“I’ll clean it.”

“I can’t drink my tea if you’re carrying me.”

“I think we have a straw somewhere.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes and I smack his back. “At least let me sit. My legs are going numb.”

“That I can do,” he purrs, every word dripping with smug that lands on my face like hot wax. I want to curl into myself as he swings me like a mannequin, placing me on the couch as if I’m made of cobwebs. “Don’t move.”

I’m going to kill him. Cold air presses in on me and I push myself into the rough fabric in a vain attempt to escape it.

Jean returns with both mugs and offers one to me before sitting down on the other side of the couch and taking a sip, recoiling immediately as if slapped. “Hot!” He puts the mug down and hones in on me. “Don’t drink it yet.”

Rubbing the sides of the cup, I soak in the fleeting warmth it offers me. “I’m thirsty, Jean.”

He blinks, putting his hands up as if suddenly unsure of what to do with them. “Uh.” Then he holds them out. “Here.”

Our hands brush as I hand over my beverage. Once, twice, he dips his head forward as if to drink it, purses his lips, and asks, “is it okay if I blow on it?”

I get a little warm inside. “You… don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to. I mean,” he adds quickly, “if you’re comfortable with that.” Two of his fingers tap the glass in a rhythm known only to himself. I smile a little. Didn’t we literally kiss?

“Okay.”

He flashes me a quick smile in return before puckering and puffing gently, cautiously into the tea, blowing small ripples that lap at the opposite side of the mug but never spill over. I trace a green line on the couch until it disappears over the curve of the back cushion and a shiver abruptly passes through me.

“Jean.”

“Mmm?”

With effort, I wrench myself into a sitting position, spurring him to look over from his delicate task.

“Hey—”

“Sorry. Can I… can I hold you?”

He stops. I stop. “Oh, I— uh.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Of course.”

Hesitantly, my arms snake around his closest to me and I lean my head against his shoulder. Feeling the expansion and contraction of his chest with every forced exhalation.

This feels different from last night. That was a necessity. I mean, I couldn’t leave him all alone; he was in rough shape. Not to mention he didn’t want to be alone. Not that he… terribly influenced my decision. No. I did it because I’m taking care of him and nothing more. Like… inserting a catheter. Strictly a necessity.

As for the pill, well. That’s… well, I’m just kidding myself at this point.

Maybe I am a bit in love with him. Maybe I don’t know what to do with myself around him anymore. Should I lean in for a quick peck? Give him a fist bump? Stroke or tousle his hair?

He likes me back, right? He does, right? I mean, the way he looks at me is… different.

Right?

I close my eyes. “Tell me a story.”

“Mmm.” His little baritone hum, deep in his chest; does he know what it does to me? “Tea first.”

Groggily, I open my eyes as the warm brim of the mug presses against my bottom lip and tilts; I open to let the warm fluid run into my mouth. “Mmmh,” I grunt, and he puts the mug away.

“You were saying?” Jean says softly, landing his closest hand over my shoulder, rubbing in circles with his thumb. I look into his eyes and the acidic words forming on my tongue neutralize right there.

“Tell me a story.”

“Let’s get comfy first.”

I let my head fall onto his arm again but he takes my shoulder and gently pushes me onto my back, hovering over me, silhouetted by the light. “Is your neck okay like this?”

My words are but a whisper. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs as he lies down himself, trapping me between his warm body and the back of the couch. It’s small piece of furniture; Jean’s visible leg hangs over the other armrest and he probably has the other on the ground.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

His breath hits my face as he speaks. “It’s okay.”

My eyes trace up the curve of his body, up to his face which is so close to mine we might as well be touching, and he smiles again, and this time I can see how it lights up his entire face; the way his skin stretches, the way his eyes get a little smaller. If I really focus, I can see my own reflection.

“What kind of story do you want?”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Our gazes don’t break as he pauses, and when he speaks, his voice fills the air between us, vibrating every molecule. “When I was a kid, my mom would tell me stories.”

“Mmm-hm.”

“They were always about my dad. And I never really understood why she told me these stories.” He breathes out in amusement. “I’d get so… irritated. Asked her why she always told me stories about the guy that didn’t — doesn’t — even care about us.”

As he speaks, his focus wanders, but always lands back on me. I reach for the arm that rests at his side and pull it in between us. He watches the whole time but doesn’t shrink away.

“And she would always say that the memories they had together were real, even if it didn’t turn out in the end. And I’d tell her he’s just a deadbeat and that she shouldn’t care about him.”

“Mmm.”

“And then I met you.”

I can’t help it. I smile again.

“And then I just… understood. How it’s the little moments you hold on to the most.” And he grins.

“Maybe,” I murmur, swiping my thumbs over his warm, fleshy palms, “it’s the other way around.”

He blinks. “Maybe.”

==> dreamcore, daniel.mp3

I bring his hand up to face level, examine the veins that splay out beautifully under his skin, weaving between tendons, plunging deep into the muscle and bone and fat. “Tell me one of your mom’s stories.”

It takes a moment for him to think. “It was after high school. Their last summer together. He was going into fine arts and she was going to study medicine.”

“Mmm.”

“But that night, long after the sun went down and the birds stopped singing, they were just walking around aimlessly. Nothing to do except enjoy each other’s company, I guess.”

Something shifts in his tone as he lapses into the narrator’s perspective.

“But even though they were spending time together as usual, both were thinking about how one day, very soon, they were going to move to opposite sides of the country and maybe never see each other again.”

“But they did see each other again, right?” His skin burns against mine. “They had you.”

“Well, not exactly.” His hand suddenly gains life, flexing lightly. “That’s the summer I was… conceived.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Needless to say, I’m not super close with my grandparents.” He purses his lips and now he’s looking at his fingers. “That’s an entire story on its own. Anyway. They were walking together at night, fearless to whatever was in the dark. Only their own futures.

“And while they were walking it suddenly started to rain. My mom said it came out of nowhere, like a bucket of water was poured on their heads. So they did what any other person would do.”

“Go home?”

“Run to the park.”

“Sounds like something you’d do.”

“Shush, you… They ran for the park like their lives depended on it, but they were soaked by the time they got there. So they decided to have a picnic in the pouring rain. And they stayed there until the rain stopped and the birds started singing again.”

“What happened after?”

“Well, by the time she got to that part in the story, I fell asleep.”

I huff lightly. “Finish it for me.”

After some hesitation, he speaks again. “When the birds started singing, they noticed a strange person in the trees. It appeared to be a man in a fedora.”

I crack my eyes open, not realizing they shut in the first place. “A fedora?”

“Fedoras are cool!”

The worst part is, I can imagine him wearing one.

“Stop laughing.”

“Sorry.” Without thinking, I use his hand to cover my mouth. “Continue.”

“The— the man in the — hat — approached the two. And he asked them if they’d seen his notebook anywhere. It was a sketchbook, he said, and he liked to draw birds. They said no, so he kept moving on.

“Truth is, he didn’t use it to draw birds. He liked drawing people.”

I hum.

“People were everywhere, and every one looked so different. Every mark and wrinkle was a testament to their way of life. He’d examine people’s faces for so long, he could see things that others couldn’t. He noticed things that the faces’ owners didn’t.

“He’d bring that little sketchbook everywhere, drawing every face that he saw, beautiful, ugly, short, long. And after a while of doing this, he realized that, despite all faces being slightly different, they were all the same, too. They were all strangers in his life, predictable. Every face followed a… a pattern. He couldn’t quite put it into words.”

I give his hand a small squeeze.

“One day, he went to the cafe. And of course, he brought his sketchbook with him. He sat on a barstool near the corner of the restaurant, right in front of the big window, and started sketching the people walking outside. When the waiter came up and asked what he wanted, he asked for a coffee.

“He didn’t look back up until the waiter returned, and when he looked into her face to say thank you, he noticed something strange.

“It was pretty, the most beautiful face he’d seen in his life, and he’s seen a lot of faces. It wasn’t just her face, though. It was her mannerism, her tone of voice, the way she stirred his drink a little so the grounds and sugar wouldn’t sink all the way to the bottom and the way she asked if there was anything else that she could do for him, as if the question was truly asked out of her heart and not just because she’s getting paid to… this person, at that moment, broke the pattern.”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

When I wake up, the Cars blanket is draped over me. Music plays over the sound of the sink running, and if I listen close enough, I can hear Jean humming along. Dishes clash.

“Shit!”

I must have fallen asleep with my mouth open, because now my throat is so dry it takes an effort to swallow. Slowly, I sit up and lean forward to take a sip of (cold) tea, but it doesn’t do much for the wheeze in my lungs. Jean starts singing softly with the chorus.

“And don’t go there ‘cuz you’ll never return…”

Standing there, washing dishes like a maniac and singing. The strands of his voice, like a bobbing needle, weave between the guitar and bass, and at times it’s hard to differentiate them at all, the tangle of melody and tempo. I melt into the sound, dissipating into thin air. Almost forgetting how much harder it became to breathe.

“Then you did something wrong and you said it was great…”

I stand at a snail’s pace — not avoiding the sudden pressure in my head as I do so — and drag myself into the kitchen.

There’s a dishcloth slung over his left shoulder and his hair’s tied up with — I check my wrist — my hairtie. Seemingly careless of his crime, he nods his head slightly with the music, biting his upper lip in concentration. I wouldn’t forgive him if he didn‘t look so…

at ease. Loose?

Happy.

The sink suddenly spits water at him, drenching his already-wet sweatshirt.

“Ugh.” And now he looks up. “Oh.”

I smile as the singer reaches a high note and Jean hurriedly shuts off the tap.

“Alexa, stop. What’re you doing up?” The music cuts and he rushes to my side in an instant, cupping my shoulders as if expecting I’ll collapse. There’s a spoon in his hand and it drips on the ground. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I was sleeping.” His top-knot sticks out and it’s just begging for me to touch it. “You have a… beautiful voice. By the way.”

He eyes the ground, reddening. “Yeah, yeah.”

Without thinking I tap his cheek. “Let’s cook,” I say. “I’m hungry.”

Jean blinks, touching the area of impact. “Cook?” He stirs again when I snatch the dishcloth from his shoulder. “Wait! No, you’re sick!” But I’m already in the kitchen.

“Oh, you… put the groceries away?”

“I’m not a barbarian. Sit down.” He tosses the spoon in the dish strainer. “Let me cook.”

“No, Mr. White.” I clear my painful throat.

“Ha, ha. Sit down, okay? Do you want me to bring a chair over?”

When he touches my shoulder I turn. “Jean, really.” But my voice is small, and it betrays me, the familiar weakness sapping at my muscles and limbs. “If I have to eat another… butt-end almond butter and cheese sandwich I’m really gonna lose it.”

==> farewell, erikson jayanto

His jaw clenches and unclenches. “Okay. Fine. But I’m helping you.”

“In that case.” I use the cloth to wipe up the water around the sink. “Chopping board. Please.”

“On it.”

“Knife?” Cloth hangs over the tap.

“Yep.”

Taking an extra deep breath in an attempt to sever the strings binding down my lungs, I joke, “don’t kill me.”

He takes the utensil in a stabbing pose. “No promises.”

I bat his arm aside, to the counter. “You know how to cut vegetables, right?”

“Yeah, I know how.”

As he rummages in the fridge to make himself useful, I rinse the rice in a definitely overqualified patterned bowl, nearly falling asleep as my hand draws lazy circles in the warm grains. I’m done in time to see him cut up a carrot — attempt to, at least. He sticks the knife in at bizarre angles and intervals, creating weird orange blocks that skid away from the board after every uneven chop.

“Jean.”

“Eh?” His voice is muffled because he’s biting his lip again. It’s painfully obvious that he’s never done this before.

“Did you peel it?”

“I told you, I’m not barbaric.”

I wrap a hand around his left hand — his chopping hand — and lift it above my head. Jean is silent as I push into the space between his body and the counter and put his arm back to lock myself in. He doesn’t budge as I lean heavily back against him. “Like this.” And I grab the backs of his warm hands like computer mice and awkwardly move them into a good position.

His every breath presses against me, chin resting on top of my head, and if I lean just right I can feel his heart race against my back.

And the heat. Maybe it’s just the sickness raising my body temperature, but it burns where we touch.

“Cut.”

He does, muscles and tendons going rigid under my grip as he puts his weight on the blade. The carrot slice rolls away and falls off the counter, but Jean catches it. “Aha.” His voice a vibration in his throat. “See that?” He brandishes it in front of me like a trophy.

“Yes, Jean, very impressive.”

We position ourselves again. Jean lets me set his hand at an angle so the tip of the knife leans down. “Try cutting. At an angle.”

He does, requiring little help from my guiding hand. The carrot slice stays on the cutting board. Amused, I twist to look up at his face.

Jean looks shocked as if I caught him doing something heinous and his skin reddens like he’s just been blasted with four hours of unadultered sunlight. His mouth becomes a smile despite it all. “Ma— uh, magical.”

It’s like this for a few seconds before I turn back to our work. “Let’s finish.”

What are you doing to me?

It turns out Jean is quite the natural; after just a few more tries he can use the knife on his own, and I’m just decoration. If you think about it, cooking is a kind of art. And Jean is good with his hands.

I stick with him, though.

“Any pots?”

“Mmm. We have one under the stove.”

“Another gift from Reiner?”

He scoffs lightly. “That was a one-time thing.”

I reach backwards for his arm and end up tapping his bicep. “Pot.”

He detaches from my back and I suddenly realize how cold the air is — it’s like a warm blanket was thrown off me. I lean against the counter. The pot of choice, a great red thing that looks like it’s never been used before, is plopped on to one of the burners and Jean immediately wraps around me again. Delirious heat.

“Thanks.”

“Now what?”

“This way.” I shuffle us over to the stove, stepping on his feet a few times, and turn the element on. “We put the rice in.”

Jean’s on it, taking the bowl and unceremoniously dumping in the rice.

“Not yet!”

He recoils. “Oh, oops.”

Shit. Knowing it’s going to hurt, I swallow anyway. “It’s okay.” I grin reassuringly, though he can’t see it. “Just need to stir.” Grateful for his presence, I search the drawers for a spatula — a nice wooden one — and hand it to Jean.

“Me?”

“Think you can do it?”

He takes it, grasping the pot handle, and pushes the rice around the pot. “Like this?” he asks, not noticing the jab. Just dripping with innocence. I feel bad.

“Perfect.”

“How long?”

“Until you feel like it’s done.”

His chest undergoes a sudden compression as he huffs and I realize just how much I’m leaning on him. “And how do I know that?”

I shrug.

So Jean stirs.

“Hm?” he says when I nudge him after a while.

“Add the broth now. And carrots.”

He hums. We turn in tandem so he can fetch the former from the fridge and I watch as he pours it slowly.

“That’s enough.”

As Jean inhales deeply his beard scratches my cheek; he’s bringing his head down to my level. I turn to meet his gaze and smile. “What?”

His eyes flutter to my chin and back.

“You want something?”

He doesn’t stop boring into me, swirling something deep in my gut like a witch’s brew. “I dunno.”

“I do.” I tilt my head up at the slightest angle to afford him a better view and his eyes widen. “You want the carrots. In the pot.”

There’s a little tic in his expression. Like he wants to engulf me, pull me deep into himself. But he just breathes, “right.” And dumps the carrots.

Stirring…

“Are you tired?”

“No.” I clear my throat again and it takes a while for the phlegm to go away fully. My feet shuffle back in an attempt to support myself, to no avail. “Bought chicken?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s tear some of it.”

==> october, adrián berenguer

The spatula clicks against the stovetop as Jean puts it down. “Wait.” I turn to meet him, backing against the hard edge of the counter, and the world turns to mush before I gather my bearings. “Wait,” he repeats, softer, putting his hands down on either side of me, locking me in place. “I need to say something.”

“Jean?” Skin turning cold where we once touched. Knees loose. Breath heavy and laboured. I latch onto his gaze and stay there. He is quicksand, sucking me in deeper with no bottom in sight, and I’m powerless to it, to the shifting grains and the lashing wind, the indefinite maelstrom of everything built up and unsaid. Until he says it, and the storm stills.

“What… are we?”

My breath is loud; every one another closer to the answer. The witch’s brew is long since tipped over, seeping its uneasy juices into my bones and muscles and tendons, rendering me feeble and invertebrate.

What are we?

“What do you want… us to be?”

A heartbeat of pause. His voice is soft but confident and takes over my every sense, light filtering into dark, soup into ice, pain into numbness. “More than this. More than what we had before.”

My hands gravitate to cover Jean’s and brush up to rub his forearms, right before the wrists, and I can see the terror that he holds, the possibility of abandonment that he keeps framed up and hung away in a little corner of his mind.

“Like now?”

His eyelids shut, separating us for a few seconds before he opens them again. “No.” And he lowers to my height. “Not like this. I dont— I don’t want any more second-guessing. No more in-betweens. I just— I need to know if we’re together or if we’re just…” He does that thing with his lip again. “I can’t do it anymore. Wondering how close I should be walking beside you, if I should offer you my chair or share it, if— if you’ll ever think of me the same way I think of you.” Despite swallowing, his voice wavers still. “I really think highly of you. I mean, I just— I— sometimes.” The last word is uttered with a small sigh as if he’s accepting defeat.

“Sometimes I feel like you’ve taken me over completely. It sounds stupid, I know, I… When we’re all together, I’m always… thinking about you. If you’ll like this thing. What I should say to make you laugh. God, I love your laugh. There’s just something… about… you… that makes me want to be by your side, and when I’m not, it doesn’t feel right, I didn’t know what right felt like until I met you. When I— I… looking at you just makes me really, really happy, and I’ve never really felt like this before. Never felt so ready to do anything, absolutely anything for a person.” He inhales deeply. “I’m— it’s hard for me to describe how I feel, but in the end I just know.

“I’m in love— I’m in love with you, the way you walk, your voice, the way you’re always looking around, everything that you think is a flaw and… I don’t want to play this game of in-between anymore because this, not knowing how you feel, is killing me. If you— you don’t have to say yes. I just need to know. What are we?”

What are we?

The frame is broken, fallen off its hook, glass shattering on impact as the wooden body collapses and snaps in on itself. Cutting countless tiny holes torn into the fabric guise of courage. Hands trembling against my sides.

The answer I want to give him is there, a vibrating and incomprehensible bundle of warmth and devotion and tenderness that is utterly unattainable behind the metal barrier of the spoken word, as much as it beats and bores into the confines of its enclosure. How much longer?

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. It’s more like a well. Dark, deep, secretive of what lies inside behind its deceptive beautiful adornments.

But if I let myself go, if I allow myself to hang over the stone ledge and slip in to see for myself, despite the fear of hitting the cold, lonely bottom…

My hand cups his cheek and he tilts his head, leaning into it.

“Jean.”

He says my name back, just as tender, twice as fearful, and the unfamiliar frequency twinges a string in my consciousness. I open my mouth.

“How you managed to fall for me is… it’s beyond me. You’re smart, you’re strong, you’re talented… To me, you’re about as attainable as a star.”

He shakes his head tightly but I continue as he inhales to speak, hints of his voice catching the air through his throat.

“You might not think so but you’re… whenever I’m with you I just feel like everything is going to be okay in the end.” My chest burns and my voice falters. “You make me feel safe. When I imagine our future together, I’m— we’re always happy.”

If I wasn’t touching him I would never notice the small nod of gentle encouragement he gives, so much hope piled onto such a tiny movement.

“And it’s been eating away at me, because every time we look at each other I have to wonder— I have to stop and ask myself if you really like me back too.”

His eyes widen. My pulse races through my body; he can probably feel it through my hand. The truth, that’s all it is, comes pouring out unrestricted, a torrent of words tearing through my soul.

“What are we? That’s a silly question. We spend time with each other and care for each other. We share our food and our beds. You passed an important test last month and I brought everyone over with cake to celebrate, and you know my schedule so you always come to the cafe when I’m working.” I puff in amusement. “And it’s when I least expect it, too. We share so many playlists it isn’t even funny anymore, because you influenced my taste in music so much.”

“You’re the one who influenced me,” he says with a small smile.

“Frankly, I’m in love with you, and— and you’re in love with me.” I sway on my feet and put my other hand to his face to steady myself. “We know that now. We know that, so isn’t that enough? We’re two people in love, who act like they’re in love, who know they’re in love… Has anything really changed?” My peripheries go blurry. “Can’t we figure it out from here? No labels?”

“No labels.” A smile is cracking his face, skin pulling beneath my palms as his eyes crinkle, shattering the restrictive veil he wears and painstakingly paints on every morning. “We’re us. You’re right. Nothing’s changed at all. Just two people in love.” His grin widens. “Just… us.”

I smile too, I smile until my face hurts and I start giggling, but Jean is right there with me, unable to help the laughter that rings around his ribcage with a melody that is uniquely his. I let my head drop and he closes the distance between us, pulling me deep into himself, and it’s like an invisible film wrapped around me has been popped for the first time. We’re hugging for the first time. We’re touching for the first time. Unrestricted. Without fear.

Two people in love.

My laughs soon turn into coughs and the illusion is broken. Jean steps back, still pinning me against the counter.

“You want more tea?”

I scan the kitchen. “I don’t suppose Reiner got you guys a microwave?”

“I’ll make more.”

“But—”

“No buts. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say before the clamouring in my mind.

“Go lie down. I’ll finish up here.”

I turn my head up and a string in my neck suddenly starts to burn, halting the action. Stiff neck. I look down at his socks.

“You sure?”

His hands enter the picture and take mine. “Let’s get you to bed, okay? Granny?”

“You know what? Just take me to the gym.”

He hisses through his teeth. “Okay, I get your point. I’m sorry.”

Pot bubbling away in the background, we make it to the bedroom. I roll onto Jean’s criminally soft covers and he drapes the quilt over me, trapping me in my own heat.

“Go to sleep, okay?” His voice is a soft rumble, sandpaper fleece.

“Okay, father.”

“I don’t want to see the lights on when I walk by,” he adds, sternly.

“Or what?”

His dark form pauses, then leans down against my ear. “Sleep.” And he plants his lips against my hot cheek before withdrawing.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

me: @/chismosa

me: sash

me: wya

chismosa: im at the store

me: ??? i thought we were meeting at urs?

chismosa: change of plans! eren said jean came in whilw he was working soo

chismosa: just wait there. shave ur head or sth

chismosa: dont use my razor tho

me: .

me: ur lucky my phones abt to die or i woukd call nd cuss u out

me: im just gonna go back to mine

chismosa: wait

chismosa: cons

me: phobe dying

chismosa: CONNIE NO

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

When the spoon clinks against the bowl my head nearly splits open. My mouth is dry because my nostrils are plugged and everything inside me feels warm and centrifuged. I try to breathe in through my nose, fail, and end up coughing instead.

“Oh—” Jean drops his book— “are you awake?”

“It got worse,” I croak.

He smiles wryly. “Yeah. It’s pretty bad.” The sketchbook on the ground skids under the bed when he kicks it as he stands. “You hungry? Thirsty? Hot?”

I shut my eyes, not daring to move. “Just want to sleep.”

“You should eat something.”

“I don’t wanna puke.”

“You won’t puke.”

“You did.”

“That’s my own fault and you know it.” He reaches for something on the nightstand and produces a bowl. “You should at least try it. Please?” With the disposition of a kid trying to show off a cool drawing that he made.

“You finished making it?” I start to lift my head but Jean lunges forward.

“Wait! Let me.” He reaches over my lap for the pillows on the other side and works on propping them up against my back, chest against my face. Maybe I’ll pass out again.

“Jean?”

“Hm?” He returns to his original position, cradling my back. “Lean back now.”

I do and it’s just like yesterday, except our positions are switched. “Your hair is so pretty.”

“Oh.” A wavering smile takes over him. “Really?”

==> parfum d’etoiles, ichiko aoba

He leans in when I beckon and lets me brush away the silky-soft strands that fall onto his face, gently pressing them back into the main mass of his hair with the backs of my fingernails. His hair. How long have I dreamed of doing this? Seeing the way it catches the sunlight to flare a molten gold during sluggish fall afternoons at my dorm, how the wind picks up strand after delicate strand as we walk through campus on the way back from the cafe, the way it always sticks to the back of his shirt when he turns his head. Something as unreachable as the reciprocation of my love. And yet… “So beautiful.”

He dips his head a little so I focus on his mini-ponytail—

“Ponytail,” I muse out loud, grinning. “Horseface and ponytail.”

At this he looks up indignantly, undoing all my work. Betrayal weighing on his brow. “You did not.”

“Oh—” my finger, entranced and with a mind of its own, traces his hairline, “—but I did.”

He scoffs as if it’s the only thing he can do and turns his head to the side, not hiding the heat that shows and radiates from his face as I stroke the strands over his ear. He eases down onto his elbows on either side of my body and he plays with his hands on my stomach. My thumb never leaves his skin, tracing his delicately shaved beard from the curve of his jaw down to his chin, and I use this position to pull his face toward me. Feeling his pulse, feeling the way the soft skin under his jaw moves as he swallows, inhales, opens his mouth with a small wet sound and speaks right into me.

“You’re beautiful.”

I want to cry.

Despite feeling like death, despite the mouthbreathing, despite the greasiness of my hair…

Jean’s gaze is unveiled, blazing with all the fondness and revere previously hidden and locked away, an unsurmountable number of words press-printed and bleeding onto millions upon millions of honeyed pages but never bound, never shut away from the sunlight and the sky and the polished wood shelves, blowing, scattering in the wind. I just might wither away under it all if I wasn’t looking back at him with just the same intensity. Locked in a silent competition neither of us will ever win.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Jean,” I say ever so lightly, only forming the shape of his name of his tongue as I exhale.

He blinks a few times and the mattress tilts as he reaches under the frame and pulls up his sketchbook, settling on the edge of the bed. It’s about the size and shape of a placemat, bound in black leather with a stiff metal coil binding it together. He flips through the heavy cream pages with experienced ease, squishing the flesh of the hand that holds it open. I can stare at his hands all day. The hairs that sprout near the wrists, the thick, sturdy fingers, the laced veins that bulge when he brings them down to his side but are always, always visible, the way the skin folds and creases at the joints, the white-hot tendons that decorate his knuckles and poke up when he flexes, the soft and jagged way he cuts the white of his fingernails, the warmth, the padding of his palms. The power that lies dormant in his muscles under every gentle movement. I want them forever to hold and cherish and cuddle. Among other things.

He finally finds the page he’s looking for and he folds the sketchbook in on itself on its metal hinge to flatten it. He taps his fingers against the back, a soft pitter-patter like rain.

“Are you going to show me?”

Face contorting slightly, he says, “it’s not finished.”

“So?”

“It doesn’t… exude you.”

I smile. “Exude?” But he’s lost in his mind, lost in the lines interwoven in shapes and shadow on the page that are supposed to constitute a greater picture.

“Qu’est-ce que…” he mutters, not to me, not to anyone. Without looking he picks up a pencil from the nightstand and lays a few more strokes onto the paper. The graphite scratches the bumpy composite, seemingly at random at first, but Jean’s movements soon fall into a rhythm. Every once in a while his eyes flicker from the page to me and I meet him every time.

I don’t know how long we sit here, soaking in the comfortable silence, but he eventually breaks the illusion by leaning back and swiping the eraser crumbs off. “I don’t like it,” he says with a note of finality.

I’m almost asleep. “Mm— show me.”

“No…”

His face disappears behind my hand, which makes a pinching motion. “Jeaaan.”

He sighs; reluctantly, he offers the whole book to me and stares through the window (curtains still drawn). I flip it over to see and—

I blink away the gunk that doesn’t exist and hold the page back so it catches the dim light from the hallway better. “Did you just do this?”

It’s… me. It’s me in his bed, hair splayed, eyes half-lidded yet still staring through the page, features lit from on one side and bleeding into the shadowy graphite at the other. Pinned up and immortalized in this very moment by his own hands, every stroke with a purpose.

“I know, the composition is off and the lines aren’t harmonizing.”

“Harmonizing? Jean, this is beautiful.”

“Hah?” He clambers to the empty spot beside me so we can both look. “No, look, I messed up right…” he points with the worn-down eraser end of his pencil. “There. And there, and—”

I swat it away. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Don’t you realize how good this looks? I mean—” holding the portrait up next to my own face, I smile. “See?”

“Not the same,” he groans. “Everything’s—”

I stick the side of my finger against his teeth and he recoils into the pillow. “What!” He pries me off, gripping my forearm with virtually no pressure. “What was that for?”

“Whatever you think, I love it.” I clear my throat. “Thank you so much, Jean. I mean it.”

He pauses. “Well, I’m— I’m glad you like it. Expect more.”

“More?”

His eyelids flutter; hesitantly, he takes some of my hair and twirls it in his finger. “I can’t help myself.”

Some of the heat in my core rises to my face, but it’s okay, so I don’t bother turning away.

“One day I’ll get good enough to draw you for real.”

Draw me for real? As far as I’m concerned, he’s always drawing me, conjuring up a little image of me in his mind every time my name is brought up. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.

“Are you ready for soup now?”

“I’m tired. I don’t wanna move.”

“When did I say you have to move?”

It’s easy for him with his stupidly long limbs to climb over me and stand again. He takes the bowl on the nightstand and hooks his chair with his foot, dragging it forward before sitting. “It’s still a bit warm, okay?” he says, stirring the mixture.

“That looks good.”

He looks up briefly to smile. “Thanks. I found a recipe online.”

“You should get into cooking.”

He shrugs and holds up the spoon, bowl close underneath to prevent spillage. “Aah.”

I take it. The metal clicks uncomfortably against my teeth but the food is warm and good. “This is good,” I declare when my mouth is empty. “Do you really not cook that often?”

“Nope. Aah.”

I chew and swallow. “When do I get my pill?”

Jean looks like he’s choking for a second. “Uh— what, do you want it right now?”

“Sooner the better, I guess.”

He blinks, then takes the package of ibuprofen from the nightstand and unwraps a pill, puts the box away, and pinches it in his hand like it’s a precious stone. “Are you sure?”

I raise an eyebrow and hold my hand out. He stares at it, dumbfounded.

“What’s that for?”

“The pill?”

His mouth opens and closes. “Oh.” He gently places the pill onto my waiting palm. “Right.”

“What were you thinking?”

He licks his lips. “Nothing.”

I pop it dry and it hits the back of my throat before disappearing forever. Jean cringes. He’s staring at the ground, knees pushed together to hold the bowl, slightly too big for the chair he’s sitting on.

“Jean.”

“Yeah?” He perks up.

“If you want to kiss me, you can.”

He tenses around the bowl. “No! That’s…” A weak chuckle rolls in his torso. “Uh. Good to— good to know.”

I smile as silence falls between us again and the room teems with potential. He feeds me in silence, gentler with the spoon this time, pushing it against my soft bottom lip and inserting just the right amount not to hit my throat, tilting it up during the exit so my upper lip rides the gentle curve of the metal and scrapes out the meal. Everything with a calculated and smooth movement, as if feeding me is an art.

He really is good with his hands.

Now he has a tissue and holds it up as if asking for permission. I nod; he leans in to wipe some off my face, a soft furrow in his brow, biting his lip. Starting at the corner, pressing into the supple skin and making his way inward, he easily catches the mess, folds the tissue, and does the other side. He finishes off with a small dab and crumples the it, obscuring it completely in his fist. Not moving back.

“Can I have some tea?”

==> i was only temporary 2 u, my head is empty

Silently, he stretches to take a mug off the nightstand, and just like before, pushes the rim against my lip. I tilt back and drink; it’s sweet, almost head-swimmingly so, and liquid smooth.

“Mmh.”

He puts the mug down and one-handedly stashes it back to its spot. Some of the drink had dribbled from the corner of my mouth to my chin and drips onto the sheet, forming a small, dark blotch on the white. When I glance back up, so does Jean, and we lock eyes.

Unreadable.

I don’t notice him get closer until he’s on me, trapping me against the headboard, tracing the path of the tea to the corner of my lips with his own. Not satisfied, he brushes against the other side of my lip and the tip of my nose before stopping at eye level. Taking in a breath before ever so slowly inching forward, sealing off my air. My eyes slip closed.

It’s different this time. He’s hesitant, waiting for me to make the move, so I do, tracing the crescent of his warm, plump lip with my tongue — god, how long have I wanted this? How long have his lips stared back at me? — in an attempt to crack him open, without pattern but with hidden rhythm, just like his pencil. He tastes like overly sweet tea.

His fingers caress my jaw and tangle into my hair as mine do the same, tracing the scrub of his beard, pulling out the hairtie and tossing it before taking the impossibly silken strands in greedy fistfuls, making my blood go loose and coat my guts in something inexplicable that almost makes me lose my focus. The air from his nose tickles my skin and finally he gives, breaking the dam, exploring the surfaces I have to offer as if mapping it out for later with a painful, cautious leisure. Never stopping, always movement: the bristles of his chin occasionally scraping against mine; his hands languidly falling down my neck, pushing me back against the pillows; mine, seizing his collar, pulling as a desperate indication to remove it and to come closer; the dip of the bed as he obliges to the latter, knees locking me in place. As if I would move, despite my racing pulse, despite my heart threatening to slip out of its bony confines and tear my burning lungs—

==> might start singing - sped up, sheldon charlot

The metallic sound of a key grating into the keyhole. Like deer in the headlights we freeze as the key turns, the lock disengages, and the front door swings open.

Jean looks like someone just shot at him; blindly, I swat at the thick muscle between his neck and shoulder until he awkwardly rolls off, ramming into the nightstand with his head in the process. The bowl and mug and clock rattle, nearly drowning out his pained grunt. He lands sitting on the ground and I sit up ramrod straight.

“Jean? That you?”

We peer at each other through the dark, thoughts unspoken, yet still understood. My pulse is on overdrive, for a different reason now.

Connie!

His footsteps get louder as he stomps down the hall; I pull the blanket up (to cover what, exactly?) as Jean shoots onto his feet — slamming his shoulder against the nightstand again — just as his roommate’s shadow fills the doorway to Jean’s room.

“Ugh, you’re gonna kill your eyes, man.” A blinding light pierces as Connie flips a switch. “Can I borrow your charger? I left mine— I left…”

When my eyes adjust, Connie’s staring into me under Jean’s arm. He looks between the two of us as the pieces fall together in his head like a game of jelly Tetris and it’s evident when he figures it out, when all the rows are cleared and the trumpets blare and the screen flashes with confetti, when a grin that’s all too Connie takes over his face. “Oh. You guys have been real naughty while I was gone, huh?”

I start to speak but Jean’s faster. “What are you on about? I was just giving her food.”

Connie raises an eyebrow, skeptical. At the obviously empty bowl, the ruffled covers, our heaving chests and wrinkled clothes, Jean’s hair which is uncharacteristically roughed up and messy and falling all over his eyes. “Yeah.” He smirks at me. “Food.”

Jean swallows.

“Connie,” I say slowly as the last taste of Jean slips away, “you won’t tell Sasha, right?”

“I dunno.” All too gleeful, he leans against the wall, tapping it as if waiting for something. “Will I?”

“You can use Jean’s car for a week if you don’t.”

Said person twitches. “Huh!?”

No stranger to the bargain, Connie narrows his eyes. “A month.”

“Two weeks or no deal.”

“Fine, but I get to decide which days.”

“Wait, when did I—”

“Deal,” I say, cutting Jean off. I shoot him an apologetic look as Connie caws in victory.

“Hell yeah! Suck it!” He points at the owner of said car. “She’s all mine now, Jeanboy!” Then he points at me. “I love you and my lips are sealed forever, okay? This is our little secret. Woo!” He skips down the hallway and picks something up with a jingle before the door opens and shuts and all is quiet.

At a sloth’s pace, Jean reaches for his pants pocket. “My keys aren’t here.”

“I’m sorry, Jean.”

He slumps, leans his butt against the bed, and turns to me like a war widow, voice barely a whisper. “It had to be done.”

“Your car will be fine.” I try to undo some of the damage thoughtlessly wrought upon his hair, smoothing it out. “It’s only two weeks.”

“Knowing Connie, he’s going to spread it out over two years,” he sighs, staring at the wall. “You know he likes to eat in it, right?”

Saying nothing, I keep stroking his hair, tracing my his scalp with my fingertips, and he leans in to my shoulder.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

“Connie?” Sasha says when he pulls up outside the store, hiding her fingers from the bitingly cold air by shoving them in her coat pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“More importantly, what’s he doing in Jean’s car?” Eren adds, in the process of pulling up his hair into a bun. “Did you kill him, Connie?”

“I struck a bargain,” Connie says smugly. “You guys want a ride, or what?”

Sasha blinks. “You saw them together and they agreed to let you use Jean’s car as long as you kept quiet about it.”

“Nuh-uh!” the driver bursts as Eren nods.

“Adds up.”

Connie’s grip around the wheel tightens. He won’t— he can’t let his dream ride slip from his hands so quickly. “Sasha, no! I just let him use— I mean, he let me use his car if I did all his laundry for a month.”

“Really?” his best friend muses.

Frantic, he nods.

She scowls. “Don’t give me that crap, Constance Springer.” Trace puffs of steam appear at her rapid spew of words. “You don’t even know how to do laundry.”

“I do so! I Youtubed it!”

“Bullshit.”

“Woman, nuh uh!”

“Can I go now?” Eren drawls, almost immediately drowned out by their combined bickering. He sighs, putting the finishing touches on his bun, and traces the leafy skyline.

So they really did get together. He didn’t think Jean had it in him. Casually, he taps his pocket, the bunched-up lanyard underneath.

Sasha had grilled him constantly though the store as he did his rounds, even following him to the employee-only area. Hell, she stood outside the bathroom waiting for him when he tried to hide for his break. There was just no escaping her.

“What did he buy?”

“Like, soup stuff.”

“What’s the first thing he said?”

“My name?”

“Did he mention her?”

“No.”

“Do you have a receipt?”

“No.”

And so on and so forth. She asked for Jean’s grocery haul maybe a hundred times, and he answered every time with the same mind-numbing ingredient list. Every. Single. Time.

A small smile lights his face. He didn’t tell her everything, though.

As much as he wanted to mention Jean’s embarrassingly poor attempt to hide the box with his body from Eren’s prying eyes at the checkout, he thought better of it, because then she’d really go off the hook. That, and he wants Jean to owe him. He covers his mouth before the others notice his growing smile at the memory replaying in his mind. Condoms? Really? Does Jean not trust Connie enough to use some of his? More importantly, does he really think he’ll be using them? Truly?

Eager beaver.

“Don’t tell them, okay?” Connie says, already defeated. “Or else they’ll take this car away…”

“Don’t you realize, Connie? It doesn’t matter who I tell because soon enough they’ll be walking around in public holding hands and all that. So your leverage is basically null.”

He stares forlornly at the little Sanrio charm hanging from the rearview mirror. “When did you get so good at this?”

“That’s just common sense.”

Sighing, he rests his forehead on the steering wheel. “Well,” he says without looking up, “you guys wanna go for a long drive?”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

writing confession scenes kill me in every physical metaphorical and metaphysical way you can imagine. thats some psychic damage right there. despite that, i love writing

seems we cant escape the inevitable kiss scene! i tried to switch it up this time. not a huge fan of recurring plot and all but i think in circles sometimes. like a dying fruit fly

about that epilogue -- i dont think i'll be employing those for a while. or maybe i will. who knows?

masterlist part 1 - two ibuprofen

[stellasmessyworld]

CHAPTER 1: Unexpected encounters

You study law at the Dragonstone University. How will your life change when your roommate’s attractive brother starts studying at the same university.

Enemies to Lovers. Modern au. Aemond Targaryen x Y/N.

~i do not own any these characters it’s just a fanfiction~

It’s 8am when you wake up and check your phone. Initially, you just stare at the screen but then you realise that your classes start in half an hour. This realisation prompts you jump out of the bed. You get out of the room and find your way to the bathroom but as you try to open the door, you hear a voice saying “Occupied!”. The voice belonged to your roommate and best friend since the beginning of your freshman year- Heleana Targaryen.

You met accidentally on the campus and started talking. After a few weeks she proposed you move in with her. The spacious apartment offered a welcome escape from your crowded dorm. The room you got at Heleana’s (now also your) apartment was nice with a big closet. The issue was that there was only one bathroom and at this moment when you needed it most, it was occupied. You couldn’t blame Heleana, she probably thought you already left for classes earlier.

Unable to access the bathroom, you decide to at least get some breakfast. You head to the kitchen to grab a bowl and fill it with cereal and milk, as you quickly empty it while scrolling through your phone. Just as you finish your cereal the bathroom door opens, revealing Hel in with a towel over her head.

“Good morning, babes” she greets you as she dries off her hair with the dampened towel.

“Hi Hel”, you reply “it could’ve been a good day if my alarm could finally wake me up one of these days”.

“Oh no, you overslept again?” she asked genuinely concerned.

“Yep” you confirm, emphasising the “P”.

“What class do you have now?” she asks. “Constitutional Law, so if i don’t get there in ten minutes the professor will kill me.” I stand up from the kitchen chair and make my way to the now free bathroom. “You know i can always talk with him, right? He is my grandfather after all.”

“It’s alright, Hel. I know professor Hightower is your grandfather but i don’t want to be treated differently just because of my friendship with you. I’ll manage to get there on time somehow. Thank you tho.” you tell her from the bathroom actually content that she wants to help in her own way. You brush your teeth quickly as you get yourself ready to leave. When you finish doing a quick makeup, you decide that you’re all ready to walk out. “Bye, Hel. See ya in the evening.” “Have a nice day, babes” she replies as you smile at her and close the door behind yourself.

The way to the Dragonstone University wasn’t long because you live literally next to the campus. You get there at 8:26am which spares you 4 minutes to get some coffee before the class. “How nice…” you think.

There is just one person before you in the queue to the café, and it’s the person you wouldn’t think you would see today.

Aemond Targaryen - Heleana’s younger brother, also majoring in Law. You were surpised to see him because it was already the second term of the freshman year and you hadn’t seen him even once at the University. The last time you saw him was actually the time you met him. It was when he visited you and Heleana at the flat. You were living there for 2 weeks at that moment. Heleana introduced the two of you and you exchanged typical small talk, until he excused himself to the bathroom and you had to leave for class.

It was a bit weird to you, to see him at your University, because the last time you talked about him with Heleana she mentioned he is studying at the Kingslanding University and definitely not here.

It wasn’t anything terrible that he was here. He is very intelligent, eloquent and um well…attractive. You couldn’t lie to yourself that he wasn’t good looking, as he was standing before you in his black jeans, a green cashmere-looking sweater that probably cost a fortune. His long hair tied in a bun. He was wearing a couple of silver rings on his fingers and ~oh his fingers~ were they nice?…

And then there is you, sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, quick messy makeup and a bit of tangled hair and your head. Snapping back to reality you decide to run away and skip coffee because you don’t want him to see you look like this. As you turn around to quickly leave you hear a voice that makes you jump.

“Yn, hi!” It’s Jace Velaryon standing in front of you he’s Hel’s nephew. “How many of her family members study or teach here?” you think to yourself. “Hi Jace, how are you?” you reply not to be considered mean as he hugs you tightly. Suddenly he tenses and you already know what’s his reason of sudden stress. It’s the silver-haired man you were trying to run away from. “Hello, nephew” you hear his deep voice. “Aemond”, Heleana’s cousin replies still a bit tense. Then Aemond’s eye lands on you. “Yn, i thought i would see you here”. You shiver at his words. Did he think about you? you were asking yourself so many questions but then you decided to reply to him. “Good to see you, Aemond” you give him a soft smile. And he looks at you for a couple of seconds too long…

Thank you for reading… It’s my first fic on tumblr so if you have any advise for me i would be thankful. Love u all. <3

credits: pattern banners by @cafekitsune and the graphic of the title was made by Image Creator from Microsoft Bing.

[miscfandomwrites]

Mama: Chapter Three

A/N: Oop, another repost. I'll set this in my queue for now tho.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mom! Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Cussing, Clint being Clint.

Words: 1.2k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

Thankfully, the rest of the trip was quiet and peaceful. I decided to listen to some music and rest for a bit. Once we landed, I put my jacket and backpack on, and then carefully picked up Lillith. 

Clint stayed by my side the entire time, occasionally giving me a worried glance.

He spoke in a hushed tone once we got inside. 

“You’ll be on the eighteenth floor, and I’m right above you if you need anything. I’ve already started to set up some things the way you like them. The map is up in the living room and the kitchen is stocked with snacks.” He told me. 

“Thank you. I thought there was only one kitchen?” I asked him. 

“There’s the main, but all floors have a basic setup. Fridge, microwave, sink, dishwasher, and countertop stove. There’s no oven, unless you buy one of the countertop ones.” He replied to me. I nodded. 

Him, Natasha, Lillith, and I got into the elevator. Clint pushed the button to go up to my floor. 

“I can’t believe she’s still asleep.” Natasha whispered to me. I smiled at her and readjusted my grip on the sleeping toddler in my arms. 

“She sleeps through anything. It was a gift when she was littler.” I replied. 

The elevator flew up the floors really quickly. Within two minutes we were already at my floor. 

We got off, and Clint walked to the back of the floor. I looked around-this place was huge. And I had it entirely for Lillith and I…

I followed Clint into a bedroom that was as big as my entire living room in my old apartment, and saw the decor setup for Lillith. 

The walls were painted to show a forest scenery, and various woodland animals weaved through the trees and branches. The colors were done tastefully in green, dark brown, and black. A touch of gold here and there, but overall it gave the room a very ‘foresty’ feeling. Lillith had a huge dresser and a closet with mirrors on it, along with her toy box and bookshelves. Her stuffed animals were everywhere, including on her bed. Thankfully, it was a twin, not a queen. Clint and Natasha excused themselves, heading to where I assumed the kitchen was. 

The few times Lillith slept in a queen bed, she somehow managed to move more than enough to yank and burrito herself in all the blankets, usually getting stuck and hollering for me in the morning to let her out to go pee. 

I set her down in the bed, pulling the blankets gently over her. I grabbed her plush wolf-that was almost half her size-and tucked it in her arms. She instinctively wrapped her arms around it, pulling it closer to her, I smiled and tucked her in, smoothing her hair around her face. I kissed her on her forehead and told her goodnight, before turning on the nightlight on the wall. 

After gently closing the door, I found my bedroom. My door was painted completely (favorite color). It was just down the hallway from Lilliths, as well. 

I walked in and was greeted by the sight of a large, plush rug and my desk. Everything was mostly still in boxes, because last time I had Clint help me move, kitchenware somehow made it into my desk and my papers had ended up in the kitchen. How he was able to screw up that bad was beyond me, but he somehow did it. 

I tossed my jacket on the chair and set my backpack at the foot of my queen sized bed. The room was decorated with (favorite colors) and the walls were painted white. Shelves were waiting to be filled with my various trinkets and books, and it looks like I not only had a walk-in closet, but a huge bathroom as well. 

After exploring a little bit and moving a box or two, I grabbed my hoodie from my backpack and headed to the kitchen area. 

Clint was making a cup of coffee, and Natasha was looking at the massive map that took up most of one of the walls. 

I opened the fridge and grabbed a soda, popping the lid off and taking a sip. I hopped on the island counter and watched as Clint tried to figure out how to work the coffee machine. 

“Three scoops, fill the water, then press the on button. Not that hard dude.” I told him with a chuckle. He swore under his breath at me, in which I chucked again. I turned towards Natasha and the wall map. 

“What is this?” She asked me, still facing the map. 

“Red pins are places that Hydra has sent me, that I’ve found out about at least. Black pins are places I’ve been after Hydra, White is places I’ve been with Lillith.” I answered, sipping on my soda. 

“And the green?” 

“Places the Marines have sent me.”

“Yellow?” 

“Places I’ve been before the Marines. My childhood.” 

She hummed and turned, walking back to Clint and I. 

I took the time to notice her outfit and her in general. 

Slightly curvy red hair falling just at her shoulders, green eyes that reminded me of emeralds and the forest after rain. A simple t-shirt tucked into black pants, a black leather jacket I knew was just to cover up the fact that she was carrying a gun. Black boots that probably had a knife or two tucked in them. 

“Take a photo, it’ll last longer.” She told me. I looked up to her face and smiled softly. 

“I thought you didn’t want any evidence that you existed?” I told her as I took another drink of my soda. 

She smirked at me. “I suppose you will be the only exception to that.” She replied. 

I grinned and pulled out my phone, snapping a few photos of her. 

“FINALLY!” Clint yelled. I jumped, spilling my soda all over my hoodie and nearly falling off the counter. 

“Jesus Christ Clint, my kid is sleeping!” I whisper-yelled at him. He winced and muttered a ‘sorry’ as he held his coffee cup. 

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and hopped off the counter. My hoodie and shirt was soaked through with soda. I pulled the wet materials away from my body. 

“Thanks, this is what I exactly needed right now.” I snarkily told him.

“You’re welcome, bitch.” He replied, pouring coffee into the cup. 

I pulled off my hoodie and tossed it into a conveniently placed laundry basket. My shirt was soaked through as well. I groaned and tossed the now empty can of soda into the trash, and pulled off my shirt and tossed it into the basket. 

Clint wolf-whistled and I flipped him off. “You’ve got a wife, asshole.” I reminded him. 

He nodded, sipping on his coffee. Then he pointed to Natasha. “She’s single.”  

My mouth opened in protest before I rolled my eyes. 

“Oh please, I got too much to deal with. I’m not exactly wife material right now.” I replied. 

“So?” He told me. 

I shook my head. “You are insane. I’m getting a shower and going to bed. Clint, if you start some shit I will tape you to the ceiling.” I answered. 

Natasha laughed as I entered the hallway, grabbing some clothes from my bag and headed to the bathroom. 

I could tell we would get along fine. 

~~

A/N: I honestly love this. Bit of detail that will/will not be in the story: Clint and Reader have been friends since they were young, drifting apart after high school. He’s the one that helped her with Lillith after her wife died, and helped her join S.H.I.E.L.D. They’ve got a fantastic relationship, if you can’t tell.

[genshin-impact-redesign]

Welcome back!! Thank you for returning when the world needed you most (Natlan)

Even tho I've not played through natlan (i haven't played genshin in MONTHS and can't start now cuz I've got uni projects) I have seen the dire situation and hope to start filling up my queue with edits and redesigns once again <3

I will likely give Natlan their own tag, just as I did with Sumeru!!

[romilly-jay]

Thoughts About The "Thoughts About The Expanse" Panel

***spoilers, natch***

This was one of the sessions I actively wanted to go to but Managing Worldcon Life got in the way. (If I've reconstructed correctly - never certain!- this session was on the same day as the big Worldcon philharmonic concert and immediately before it? If that's right - in theory, it should have been possible to do both, one straight after the other, BUT in reality, this hour got eaten up in queueing time.

So, delighted to find it in the replays and an early priority to listen to - and very glad I did, if mainly to feel the waves of joy and affection rising as I was reminded how VERY MUCH I loved this show*.

*Yes, I know that The Expanse is also an impressive series of novels and novellas as well, but I have mostly - not read these. Yet. They are firmly IN my TBR but as with Worldcon, life has so far Intervened.

=========================================

Right, I'd written the bits above and below the === then got called away [dinner awaits no blogging, dahlings] and then... forgot to return - so the middle segment was NEARLY just the following:

Some of the panel content here.

But - hurrah - started on the next blog and wanted to link it to what that clever Caroline Mersey said about it, only to discover that... she said nothing (as reported here). Oops and - corrected.

In fact almost all of the next part is CM's pitch for why The Expanse is the greatest TV SF series of the 21st century // worldcon Aug 2024

Her pitch revolved around the treatment of sexuality and gender:

This show is the most progressive recent SFF show, particularly in the way it queers gender and sexuality in ways we rarely see on TV.

The power is how it normalises and embeds its treatment. It has poly relationships – almost unheard of in commercial productions. Holden’s family of origin. It’s not just about the tax breaks. Drummer’s crew of space pirates. More complex than a traditional love triangle (tho Draomi is a canon relationship YAY.) This is a show that consistently queers and interrogates expected gender roles. Bobby Draper: not sexualised, not all-powerful, seeks help. Peaches: classic tale of angry superhero on a revenge trip who earns her redemption. Drummer: uber-competent but also with brittle edges.

The exception to the excellence is Julie Mao – the fetishised object of a middle aged white guy’s obsession. CM comments that book one was pretty standard male-oriented SF – very blokey, testosterone-fuelled – but complimented the two writers for how they responded to receiving that feedback, gender flipping certain characters from book two onwards and allowing the story to unfold as it did.

CM's summary of what she loves about the show is made with reference to the final three episodes of S5:

The story around Naomi’s resilience – her desperate determination to save the Roci from Inaros’s trap – we don’t breathe until she does again – amazing engineering ingenuity – while she’s trying to send a signal and break the trap. We have Amos and Peaches and their hugely daring escape from Earth. Avasarala’s coup. Drummer’s torn loyalties – but we’ve also got: how you best deal with your sex pest cast member by writing them out in a way that respects the character but conclusively rules out a return. Those episodes exemplify the most striking and my favourite things about the series.

There was really only one point I *really* wanted to grab from the rest of the session and I *believe* it was lawyer Wes Rist who made it:

Noting the benefit to the quality of the story - its complexity, its ambiguity, the kinks away from expected narratives - that they had several “goes” at it. The role playing game. The books (and novellas filling out the world between the main stories). And then the show.

=========================================

Finishing up by I'm listing out the panel members, incl their varied backgrounds, along with a sort-of-summary of what they said about themselves. To me, this is synecdochal (??) of the identity and value-set of the series and the quality of its appeal i.e. appeals to and relevant to, well, lots of people but almost certainly including:

people who are interested in politics and/or international relations and/or Marxism and/or debating between different philosophies;

people who like hard science and realistic space battles - slash - pouring of liquids in zero G;

people who want to imagine human futures across and within the solar system and the social - slash - economic - slash - politics impacts and implications involved in becoming a bi-planetary species and/or a multi-space location capitalist construct; and

people who want to imagine alternative gendered futures.

[Also, people who think about the Roman empire alot. Perhaps daily.]

These, then, are the panellists:

Sven von Vittorelli is a conservation biologist from Germany, who told the room that his day job is often filled with frustration, with the sense of coming up against the boundaries of what's possible, and so chooses to enrich his life through engaging with science fiction.

[Writing - he's working on the first novel in a hard SF series, which appealed to me immediately because it namechecks Shackleton in the title, Shackleton Ridge. And as a fan - he won me over again by naming Firefly and Battlestar Galactica as series he loved on the way to becoming a fan of The Expanse.]

Wes Rist is an international human rights lawyer whose day job involves working on genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity - clearly, seriously heavy, and also, deeply relevant to the political context, themes and developments of The Expanse series.

[He clarified, of course, that his views expressed here, are personal - he's working in some capacity for the US government but not speaking for his employer HERE.]

Bob Hranek has a tech background, initially for the US Airforce (5 yrs), then for the US min of defence (35 years) focused on aerospace systems - he pointed out that any views expressed were his own and not those of his employer (prompting the same from WR).

He joked that given his background he would generally, in the context of The Expanse, be expected to be representing [Evil! Tech! And Weapons! Giant!] Protogen.

Caroline Mersey is a cos player and book nerd and organises lots of book events in her spare time, including the 'Super Relaxed Fantasy Bookclub' - every second Tuesday in London. [Must attempt to go...]

And the panel moderator, Michael Pea, is senior writer at Friends of Comic Con and self-declared *uberfan* of The Expanse.

[mekatrio]

anime con log diary whatever

the epic outfit for today:

thankfully no traffic so that was epic. i was there pretty early (10:30-ish) so it was easy to find parking. got lost in the mall for like ten minutes until me and friend found some staff members for the con, and they showed us the way. the entrance was rly out of the way lol, usually theres two point of entries, but one was out of service. u had to follow a rly specific path to get there. there were also a bunch of buddha statues near the entrance stairway?

idk what was up with that. anyways since we were early there was no queue for us to get in. very nice. also its the weekday so i heard that theres significantly less ppl here today than there'll be the next two days. also very nice.

several booths were still being set up while we walked around. we checked out the official vendors first before checking out the artist alley, which was the main reason we were there. immediately my friend finds and starts buying some hoyoverse merch. i check the booths out w her for a while and then i get myself a green tea latte. then we check out the goodsmile booth and i find these

very cool but i do not get them, bc 1.) expensive, and 2.) i do not like plastic figurines. i also stop my friend from buying a persona 5 joker figurine. she goes and buy some more hoyoverse stuff instead. then we go check out the artist alley... and then friend realizes she left her water bottle somewhere. and as per usual with the cons i go to w her, we are seperated. and then we meet up again, but not before i buy two epic items:

i am sooo happy w these two purchases 💜 they were the only ones of their kind, so im glad i got them when i did. the gengar plush will live on my purple bag and be gomamons new neighbor, like so:

^ this was also how my bag looked for the rest of the day 🤭 yayyyy 💞 anyways after looking thru the artist alley some more, we take a break to get some food. cuz we barely had anything for breakfast and we are fucking starving. the food area looks like this:

and everything there was unsurprisingly expensive lol. me and friend get the cheapest thing there, which are pizzas

tho im kinda starting feeling nauseous at this point.. and have to keep myself from throwing up. thats what happens when u take supplements + drive + drink a green tea latte on a nearly empty stomach and little sleep. dont do that. so i go to the bathroom and freshen up, and eventually i feel better. i eat three slices of pizza and give the last slice to friend, and sadly have to throw away the rest of the latte or i would feel sick again. but i feel way better now that ive eaten.

we then spend the next two hours going thru the rest of the artist alley. me and my friend joked abt the possibility of finding at least 1 (one) kgpr merch. or possibly tota merch. but unsurprisingly, there was absolutely none Lol. tho i did find vesperia merch instead

literally only one booth was selling vesperia merch haha. also surprisingly there were quite a few ace attorney merchs? its surprising to me cuz the last art event i went to only had one narumitsu sticker in the entire place. but here there were several

^like this artist, who i didnt know was based in malaysia! ive seen their comics on tumblr a few times. didnt buy from them tho, sorryyy.. anyways, various pics from the artist alley:

after we finished looking thru the artist alley and had bought our fill of art (and good god did my friend buy loads of art), i checked out a second hand vendor that i saw earlier. they had loadssss of stuff, and me and friend spent a good 15 minutes digging thru this massive tub of pins and keychains in hopes of finding smth good

i was rly hoping to find something tota or kgpr in here, cuz if they were anywhere in this convention they would be here.. but sadly there was none haha. it was rly funny digging thru this thing, i kinda felt like a racoon/archeologist. oh but i did find these two pins which made me laugh

and in the end i found and bought a bunch of revue starlight merch + a cute embroidered pin

and then after that we finally left the con.. we spent a good 5 hours in there. we went to a store for me to grab some stuff for home, then played 2 rounds of taiko hehe (6 songs total). then we went to grab some food

^ the mall the convention is in also has a fucking river flowing thru it lol. i remember seeing this as a kid, its been over ten years since ive last been here

then i drove my friend home in ATROCIOUS weather... omfg it was raining so heavily. and stupid navigation app sent me to drive on some nearly flooded roads 😑😑😑😑 but we made it in one piece and i chilled in her room for a bit. she took a pic of everything she brought... which was SO MUCH LOL

^her haul. and then finally i arrived back home.. here is my comparatively much smaller haul:

but yayy it was a fun day today ✌️ but now i have work tomorrow.. bahhhh

[mokacheer]

hahaha thanks for the mass tag game @ruanbaijie this shall be fun!

aka: nine albums or songs I've been listening to lately x nine people I’d like to get to know better x tag game with no name

1. why did you choose your url? - no idea, my theories are that i was obsessed with rosario + vampire so i took moka, and since moka is cheery/happy i just bam. i honestly don't know 💀

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them. - i used to have a ton because younger me dabbled in the RP world (lets not remember those times but remember the cool people i befriended) but right now no just this blog and the other blog i help run <3 @otomokatsuhiro (if you love old anime youll immediately follow ;) )

3. how long have you been on tumblr? - since may 2012 😵 (save me)

4. do you have a queue tag? - nah

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? - an old friend of mine told me about it and actually made this blog for me. now thinking about it idk if it was her that came up with the name, if i had a different name to begin with... no clue :s

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp? - its yuki!!! must i explain why?! (plus it matches my vibe here alot of mutuals say im super sweet or a ray of sunshine ((ily it makes me happy everytime i get that hehe)))

7. why did you choose your header? - it just matches the overall pink cute vibe :p

8. what’s your post with the most notes? - still to this day its a 29 frame gif of a phone ending call... here

9. how many mutuals do you have? - i counted at the beginning of the year and i believe i had 108? but now obviously its 108+ :D

10. how many followers do you have? - 17.2k+ x-x

11. how many people do you follow? - 544! i remember at one point i wanted to keep the number limited but thats so stupid!!

12. have you ever made a shitpost? - uhhhh probably when i was younger. i used to constantly post #personal text posts so idunno

13. how often do you use tumblr each day? - help me

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? - yeah a small amount of times, most would be reposters telling me "no this is my gif i made this! i wont remove this from my blog!" with my watermark clear as day in the corner lol..

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts - meh it's your blog at the end of the day, if you want to reblog something do it, if you dont dont. it's sad to see most people just like posts but they come from different platforms and fail to realize what kind of site tumblr is. hopefully eventually they will get it tho! amen

16. do you like tag games? - yes! i love that i get tagged in them but also forget alot of the time to ever get to doing them so i apologize for being late on this one hehe

17. do you like ask games? - plsssss i love seeing that notification light up in my inbox. it fills this bloggers heart with joy.

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? - oh i got a few @gojosattoru (where have you been ;w; </3), @hanae-ichihara (ill always miss you <3), DEFINITELY @taohs hehehe

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? - nope, having a crush on here has never happened for me :p

20. what is the last song you listened to? - charli xcx speed drive EASYFUN remix, its sooo gud

21. what are you currently watching? - the magical girl and evil lieun. are archenemies, fairy tail 100 years quest, maybe some other misc. stuff i cant think of rn.

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy? - all of the above, i love sweet + spicy

23. what is your current relationship status? - single times *salute emoji*

24. what is your current obsession? - SMILING FRIENDDDSSSS asjdiaoshjdajsid

25. what are nine albums/songs you've been listening to lately? - aprils-bloom by julie areyouhome? by juno britpop by A.G. Cook right back by Frost children i like it by Frost children spring is coming with a strawberry in the mouth by Caroline Polachek magic sword by 4s4ki tome by veltpunch 365 by charli xcx

tagging: @taohs @cute-girls-from-vns-anime-manga @oneechangoddess @yuujies @scary-friend @fuwanek0 and others that wanna have fun

[qsmpconfessions]

sorry for the lack of activity!

Real life got really busy and i. i forgot to fill up the queue! regularly scheduled confessions will be continued! some might be a little old tho!

[silvertsundere]

Silver Talks AniManga (21/01/24)

jump is finally back this list so list looks a lot more filled out compared to last week lol

also wanted to say that I feel bad for having not caught up to anything so far this year, but between all the anime I'm watching this season (multiple times the normal) and something else I've been working on (that I should be able to talk about here next week) I just haven't had time to do it (and also running sideblogs but those don't eat up much time since I just queue up stuff for the whole week and then don't touch them again unless something comes up) but anyway

Anime

Dungeon Meshi Ep3

great ep like the other 2, but this episode really had that trigger dna in there so it's my favourite so far easily I understand them playing it safe and stuff since it's an adaptation instead of an original like they usually do but trigger's style is such a treat to see, I'm glad to see that not every episode will be by the books and they'll actually go back to their unique style sometimes

Undead Unluck Ep15

we finally got the new op and ed for the 2nd cour and..they're not nearly as good as the first ones sadly, tho they're certainly not bad. we also got the first appearance of god which was pretty cool anyway next episode is something I've been waiting for since the unjustice one so looking forward to that should be pretty pogged up

Bucchigiri Ep2

I was hoping ep 2 would have a bit more action and it did. it was nothing impressive in terms of the drawings themselves but the coreography was really good. if they can keep up this quality the whole run it'll be an enjoyable show

Manga

Undead Unluck Ch191

very good colour page and chapter. it's not been that long since andy's last appearance since he was here on the unrepair arc, but it's been a very long time since he's done this much. it was cool seeing him show off and showing what he's been doing all this time. nice little intermission chap before we start the next arc in earnest

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

A Vivid Display

A/N: just a tale of Tegan and Hwan from Lines of A Script to Ignore! a canon scene, where-in Tegan’s bringing Hwan to a decent place. in the actual story, it’ll be from Hwan’s POV. for this short, tho, it’s from the other way around.^^

Word Count: 788

TW: implied romance, the dynamic’s platonic at this point, tho.

***

"Where are we going?" Hwan asks, looking out at a window.

"Just a cool spot close by," Tegan answers, parking her car in an empty space.

Unlocking the doors, she opens one and slips out of the driver's seat. Both of them walk into a pavement. Ahead of them, there's a building with space-themed posters displayed above an entrance. People go in and out of glass doors, which seal open for them to go in.

Beside Tegan, Hwan slows down on her pace. She blinks.

She's been thinking about it for a while. About showing her around Enrevarde and what cool places it's got to offer.

After all, Hwan's been abroad for about six years. There's tons of sights to visit and see how it's different.

Hwan's eyes widen slightly. "This is what you invited me to see?"

"Ah, yeah." Tegan clasps her hands together, slightly averting her eyes from her.

"A planetarium?" Hwan asks, raising her brows. "What the. . . since when did this country have a planetarium?"

"It opened up about four years ago," she explains.

Hwan compresses her mouth slightly. "Huh, it's why I didn't see this place back then."

Tegan beckons her to follow her into the entrance. They enter the building's foyer, greeted by a line of planet figures on the ceiling.

She registered for access to this planetarium. It took a while since she had to fork out some Euros from her wallet. She hopes this might be worth it. However, the look on Hwan's face as she sees what she finds might be worth it too. It's got a ton of space-related things, so she can go wherever she wants.

If she's interested in that, that is.

For the most part, Tegan's doing this to let Hwan have a good time.

"I've also got tickets for a show they're going to put on a projector. Two seats for us. Or one if you'd rather be on your own."

"Okay. . . thank you for that."

"Hey, it's gonna be amazing."

I think you'll like this place, she doesn't add.

When their eyes meet, Hwan merely arches a brow. Then she lifts her shoulder in a shrug.

"I guess I'll explore around to see if check your theory. So, how long are we supposed to be here?"

"Maybe until it gets late."

"You've got to be kidding. It's like you're trying to trick me into a trap."

"Look, I have nothing except honorable intentions," Tegan assures, tossing her hands up. "If this makes it any better, I promise you'll be back home before midnight."

Either way, Tegan chuckles. Hwan adjusts her black jacket, crossing her arms.

Upon inspecting her clothing, she scratches the top of her head.

She used to wear brighter colors, often styling her hair as pigtails. She had braces and glasses too. She heard some bits of how she used to hang out with preppy students. How they stripped her of what she was. How she used to hide certain aspects of herself. How they turned her into a person, who she wasn't glad to be.

It sucks, Tegan thinks, glaring at a corner. Those people didn't appreciate Hwan for who she is.

If Tegan can be someone, who Hwan might be comfortable to be herself with, she'd be more than thrilled. Of course, they're still technically strangers in a way. . . she's willing to wait for it. She needs to get to know her better for them to get there.

As they reach to a queue, Tegan gives Hwan her ticket. They need to wait before getting into the theater to watch.

Some lights descended from above, scattering across the room in different hues. Probably to ensure visitors aren't getting bored.

Hwan just stares around as if she's surrounded by undiscovered colors. She must really adore space, doesn't she? A glimmer fills her dark brown eyes as her lips slightly part.

Tegan's stuck on the spot, floored by the sight of her. Her heart thrums to a steady beat on her chest. She lets out a quick breath.

There's a precious quality in how Hwan's unabashedly enthralled by this. That pure admiration shining in her expression. A rare trait to see in most people, really.

"Ooh! There's a telescope!"

Her voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Right, she's supposed to be her companion, not be distracted.

"Do you. . . do you want to check it out?" Tegan asks, clearing her throat.

"Well, if it's alright with you," Hwan answers, twisting her bag's strap.

"Sure, it's fine by me." Tegan tries to smile.

Hwan gives a thumbs up and she goes towards a staircase. Tegan trails after her, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

Yeah. . . this is going to be a bit complicated.

***

[deeisace]

I should be working on the bible covers instead of making new jobs for myself, and I will get back to it another day, but I'm going to distract myself from stressing about the guy downstairs by doing a bit of my stepmum's family tree

I said I would last time I saw her, and I did a bit but not the rest

Her estranged awful dad's side, not on purpose just cs it's easier to do the paternal line/s first tbh, and my brother said he'd be interested anyway cs he knows nothing at all about that family.

It's easier because you can follow Carter family, eg, their name, back and back, and then afterwards go and fill in the blanks of maiden names and those families and such, tho I do tend to get distracted by interesting branches occasionally, instead of doing one line and then another, I'll do a piece of a line and then a piece of a different line, and then go back to do more in-depth work on the first one, and then find a funny first or last name or event, and go into that instead of finishing the first line entirely in one go

All the work will get done, it's just that I jump around, and my notebooks are generally a mess

That I can read, fortunately, enough to make clear copies for whoever it's for - or, as clear as family trees can sometimes be, cs they do take some looking at, especially if I've managed to get back to the 1700s on more than one line, which is often possible

I was lucky once, to chance on the research someone else had done into the same tree I was looking at - you can only do so much yourself without trekking out to the actual churches, or wherever what archives exist, and bugger going right across the country honestly - and got back to the 1500s! Incredible! Tudor times!

It seems so far away from now, and it is in a lot of ways, but I'm reminded always of that thing that goes, if you think about it, an average person might have a child in their mid-20s, say, which makes a century four generations. Four women, or four couples, however you'd like to think about it. Not at all a crowd, you were to imagine that many people in a shop queue or whathaveyou

My own tree I can trace if I remember correctly to the late 1600s or early 1700s - if one generation is 25 years, that makes me now only 17 people away from the Stuart period. Like, that's still not so many people, only a couple of good tables worth, and I know the guy sitting right at the end's name (which is George Whoad/Hood, and now I'm looking at my notes he was around in the 1610s, so it's more like 20 or so people back. Still two tables!)

Of course that's going back only into one direct branch - the number goes up exponentially when you include both parents of a child, and both their sets of parents, etc etc, which is why the family trees I do are so sprawling - I don't believe, as some people seem to, that only the family name matters - your maternal 6-times great-grandmother is just as important to you existing as your paternal 8-times grandfather who shares your name, I think, and even if literally the only thing I find out about her is that her name was Margaret, no other details at all, I would still prefer to include her than not

If someone prefers to not find out about a side of their family, then I will ignore it, I've reached a dead end, and I understand even if I am a little sad at seeing a blank space

Anyway, it's interesting tho, to think about it, once the information peters out to just names and dates on paper, and sometimes not even that (ala Margaret, above) - to imagine a dinner party, or a theatre, full of living breathing people, with their living breathing lives, once upon a time, and that they did exist, and that one has your nose, or this one laughs the same as you, or someone walked down the same street, or or has opinions about Pride and Prejudice, just like you do now, or likes the colour orange, or is scared of bees, or is fascinated by new technology, just like you, tho theirs is jacquard looms and yours is, idk, super computers

[krys-loves-otome]

Oh! Treat this like a mash-up for all your blogs I follow.

One reason is that I enjoy seeing your reblogs, otome or not. They're overall a rather interesting collection.

Another is that I enjoy seeing your OCs. I don't follow them very closely, but I sometimes take a time to go back and search for them, and they're delightful. I especially like your art with them.

And one other reason is that, hm. Whenever ask games roll by, I like to ask you questions, especially in regards to writing. The way I see it, you tend to offer a very grounded perspective, rooted profoundly in experiences that connect both online and offline world (what I mean by that is that you don't seem to lean too strongly into either direction; equilibrium?), so it's often very refreshing.

Anon or not, tell me why you follow me

Kinda sorry that that this turned into Self-Promo the Ask, but not really

For a short ref of my blogs (in case anyone else was curious):

@krys-loves-otome You Are Here! The main blog where I reblog otome content, both from others as well as my own. Asks and likes come from this blog.

@not-krys is my writing blog where I post all my writing content, be it fanfic or original. I post a lot of wips there, usually at least once a month for WIP Wednesdays. Hope you like OCs, bc I love OCs and I love writing with and about them. Matter of fact, just posted with my IkeSen girls Houki and Ophelia and my ikevamp girl Abby this morning!

@krys-reblogs is my reblogs channel where I post stuff not related to otome. Mostly filled with cats, anime, meta, and Fire Emblem: Three Houses. And Howl's Moving Castle, both the book and the Ghibli movie inspired by it.

I have an art blog, but I had wanted to make into an archive, which meant uploading a lot of content and whatnot, so it's just sitting currently. Might or might not do anything with it. I've got an insta tho /krysimeteri for more art stuff. And a twitter where I do art stuff and wips of the art stuff and talk about ocs. That one is /krys_does_stuff

And for OC related stuff, I also have a masterlist for them, both for Fandom OCs and original originals. It has links for fics and art I've posted on tumblr about them, in case anyone wants a quick link to my oc content!

Now that the shelling is out of the way (lol)...

I like to reblog things as a promotion for friends and cool people, to show everyone what things I think are cool or lookit what my friend has done! It's what tumblr is for! (Just kinda embarrassed that I prefer using the queue system rather than a string of reblogs. It helps me to stay organized and so that I can find things if I need to. But it is slow in posting stuff, thus the embarrassment).

I've been debating some of my study work for my OCs on this blog (like my real sketchy stuff with figuring out different body types and proportions, color studies, and inking practice.) Just unsure as it's OC stuff and studies at that, which might be interesting from an artist perspective, but not so much for the average layperson seeing my stuff.

And I like getting questions and asks! About writing, art, my ocs, or just random things, questions and asks are fun for me! Glad that I can give good advice and such, especially with a grounded perspective. Probably comes from being around for a while, both in actuality and being in online spaces since I was like 12 (y'know, back when dinosaurs wore powdered wigs with backwards caps and said outdated things things like 'radical', 'bodacious', and 'eat my shorts'.)

Thanks for the ask!