#i love everyone i follow already i just need some more variety y’know?

[coredrill]

okay y’all, the time has come where i want to actually try to follow a few more people lmao. so pls feel free to like/rb this if you post about any of the following so i can check your blog out!!!

super robot anime (this is unlikely i know but worth a shot lmao)

studio trigger anime

star trek

marvel comics

avatar / korra

space / astrophysics / particle physics / relativity etc

thank you!! 💜

[arcanadreams]

That time you and your demon boyfriend went viral

hi yes hello obey me fandom!! my name is Gabbi and i have never played a single second of the actual game but i have read enough fanon content for the past year to have this idea swimming around in my head and now i am finally letting this accursed thing out of my brain and putting it in yours

also i’m only doing the brothers because any more than that and i’d have an aneurysm probably. oh and shoutout to @obeythebutler and @beels-burger-babe for inspiring me with their works to feel brave enough to write for this fandom

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer go viral on Asmo’s Devilgram story!

You’re in the kitchen helping Asmo with dinner duty and singing along to one of your playlists of human realm music that you like to show him.

Asmo starts filming your cute little dance while you stir the pot on the stove because you are just adorable!

About ten seconds into him filming, Lucifer appears in the doorway with quite the stern look on his face. You know, the one that comes right before a “MAMMOOOOOON” and strikes fear into the heart of all those with functioning eardrums. That one.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell y’all to shut the fuck up, but then there’s a lull in the music and the eldest can hear your voice ever so slightly above the song’s vocalist and he freezes.

Man stops in his tracks like someone just smacked him in the face with a midair volleyball.

Asmo can be heard stifling a laugh behind his phone.

Lucifer’s face gets so soft and he almost, almost, loosens his metal-rod-through-the-ass posture before you notice him and give a little wave and ask if you and Asmo were being too loud like the considerate darling you are.

Lucifer clears and his throat and says something like, “No, you aren’t. I was just coming to check on how dinner is coming along,” and leaves, after which Asmo immediately presses the post button.

Screenshots of Lucifer’s heart eyes for you go absolutely viral because every demon on Devilgram goes absolutely feral for seeing the eldest demon brother lose his dignified composure. It becomes a meme template. “Get you someone who looks at you like Lucifer looks at MC” and “me at the delivery demon when he shows up with my spicy bat wings” posts become commonplace. (Asmo thinks the memes are totally worth getting strung up with Mammon for laughing at them.)

Mammon:

Much like Lucifer, you and Mammon end up going viral off Asmo’s Devilgram. (Noticing a pattern here?) 

He pulls a silly prank on your asses and honestly I don’t know how you fell for it. But hey, they say “idiots in love” for a reason, so...

You and Asmo are sitting in the common room of the House of Lamentation just chillin. Well, he’s chillin, you’re on the floor studying for an upcoming exam.

The video starts in the middle of a conversation you and the avatar of lust were having.

“No, Asmo,” you say. “Mammon and I don’t use pet names for each other.” Now that’s just a darn lie, and every demon and crow within ten miles of Mammon and you together knows it.

“Really? I find that very hard to believe, MC.~” 

You sigh in response to Asmo’s teasing. “Okay, he has a lot for me but I’m just not much of a pet name person, y’know?” The rest of the exchange goes like this:

“Oh, I totally get it.” *pause* “Hey MC, what do human world bees make again?”

“Honey.”

Cue a sheepish Mammon sticking his head in the doorway at the bluntness of your tone when you answered Asmo.

“Yeah, babe?” he looks like a puppy left on the side of a highway oh my god hUG HIM-

Asmo turns the camera back to his smug ass face and in the background you can be heard tripping on the damn carpet trying to get up and hug your mans. (”MAMMON GET OVER HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU” “W-WHAT? I THOUGHT YA WERE MAD AT ME?!?!?!?!”)

Leviathan:

Streamer Levi? Streamer Levi.

You guys go viral the first time you make an appearance on one of Levi’s weekly (insert cool Devildom streaming service name here) streams. 

It’s completely unintentional. You had been asking him for weeks to play with him on there, but he’s the avatar of envy after all. He doesn’t like sharing his partner, even if it’s with random strangers who have no real access to you.

However, he has his stream on a Thursday instead of a Friday one week, and you come into his room carrying dinner because 1) You didn’t realize he was streaming and 2) No matter what he was doing, the boy needed to eat. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring him dinner, so you had no idea why he was blushing and stammering even more than usual this time in particular. Boy was speaking in beached whale trying to tell you what was wrong.

Then you notice his screen. Oh! “Hi chat!” You wave, setting Levi’s food down on his desk in front of his keyboard. “M-MC!” He full-on whines, slamming a hand over his mouth afterwards when he remembers his viewers could hear that.

Honestly, they’d meme the fuck out of him if it weren’t for the fact that they are FINALLY SEEING HIS HENRY!!! THE MYSTERIOUS MC!!!

Chat is bombarding you with questions while you make Levi eat dinner. And by make him eat dinner, I mean literally feeding this man forkfuls/spoonfuls while he games because you love how flustered he gets when you do that. 

Does it impact his score? Absolutely. Does he care? Not really when you’re pampering him like that.

You start answering chat’s questions about you while he’s chewing so he can’t tell you to stop LMAO-

You’re a natural on stream. The VOD becomes the most popular on Levi’s account in a matter of hours and soon cute highlights compilations of you and him on that stream start making the rounds on Devildom Twitter.

Satan:

There was buildup to Satan going viral, similar to Levi in a way. 

Satan does have a Devilgram, but it’s basically a white woman’s Instagram with added book reviews for variety. Unless you’re a reader his account is pretty boring: candles, books, fireplaces, and cats.

However, after you two started reading together fairly often he began posting pictures of your legs draped over his while you sat together. They’d always be captioned with vague ass pretentious literary criticism. 

This goes on for months, and he gains a lot of (horny) followers after the leg pics start up. He doesn’t really get why but you both joke that it’s because you have some damn nice legs and I mean neither of you are complaining about the new following.

You two go viral when he finally shows your face, entirely by accident.

The post is a video, which is already strange for him and grabs attention. In it, you’re scoffing and reading an excerpt of a book, mocking its understanding of female anatomy.

“I’m quoting here, Satan: ‘her breasts bouncing around like giant pacmen.’ I’M SORRY?? THAT ISN’T HOW BOOBS WORK SIR. WHY ARE MEN ALLOWED TO WRITE?” 

(fun fact that is a very real quote from a very real book I really read last month pls save me)

Originally the camera is focused on your body, with your head out of frame to protect your privacy, but your righteous anger made Satan laugh. Like, a real laugh. The one that makes you and everyone in earshot wonder if he truly was never an angel cause he sure as hell laughs like one but anyway-

When he threw his head back, his DDD angled up just a tad without him noticing, and your face was in view for like .2 seconds. Screenshots of it are making the rounds on Devilgram almost immediately: FINALLY THE LEGS’ OWNER HAS BEEN FOUND.

Satan apologizes profusely but you honestly find it funny and you two opt to just start taking selfies while reading with both of your faces in them from now on. 

Asmodeus:

I’m gonna be real with you: you and Asmo go viral all the time. Pretty much everything Asmo posts can be considered viral because of his social media following and his status as one of the seven avatars of sin.

However, there are some fairly cute highlights to be pointed out among the times you were both featured in a post that blew up.

Your favorite is probably that time Asmo livestreamed on of you guys’ ‘Nail Nites,’ as you call them.

You’re both on the floor, doing your nails and kicking your feet back and forth while talking to chat. A lot of the questions are about your relationship, and there’s a lot of flirting back and forth between the two of you.

A particular clip of the stream does blow the fuck up on Devilgram, though, when someone screen records it and posts it with a bunch of heart emojis edited over it.

“’What colors do you think best describe each other?’ Ooo, that’s a good one, chat!” Asmo claps his hands together excitedly, making sure to be  careful of his nails.

Pretty much everyone expected you to say pink, but you surprised both your boyfriend and your viewers when, after a pensive few moments, you replied with “Hmm...probably yellow or orange.”

“Can I ask why, darling?” Asmo tilts his head in confusion. I mean, yeah, those colors look good on him, but he doesn’t wear them often so he’s wondering about your thought process. 

“Well, in the human world those colors often represent happiness, optimism, and positivity. You’re always the cheerful presence I need in my life when things get hard, so you have the vibe of those colors.”

Asmo proceeds to burst into tears and hug you, messing up both of your nails and prolonging the stream since you both have to start over. But neither of you particularly care. 

Fun fact: Asmo has the clip that demon made of that portion of the stream saved on his DDD and watches it whenever he feels sad.

Beelzebub:

Beel and you probably go the most viral out of everybody. Like this moment is an entire phenomenon across the Devildom internet. 

It’s a video, or well, multiple videos, taken at the end of a Fangol game that Beel’s team had just won. Everyone is cheering and going crazy, yourself included, and you just really wanted to congratulate your boyfriend.

So, like the rational person you are, you elect to climb up onto the railing of the bleachers and wave to get his attention. 

You were absolutely fine up there, and sat all comfortably motioning Beel over to you. He notices, of course, and jogs over, standing right beneath you and looking up. (Back where you were sitting, Mammon is screeching like a hyena in heat and Belphie, who is laying down, has one eye open to glare at him. The youngest knows Beel would never let you hurt yourself; you’re fine.)

A bunch of assorted demons at the game has started filming while you were sat atop the railing since you were rather noticeable. Therefore, there’s a shit ton of different angles of the adorable events that follow:

You slide off the railing, landing right in Beel’s waiting arms bridal style. You’ve got this brilliant smile on your face as you pull his helmet off. None of the DDDs filming can hear it over the crowd noise, but Beel asks you why you just went through all that trouble and you tell him it’s because you wanted to tell him how proud you are.

Soft boy’s chest puffs up and he smiles this big cheesy smile at you reach up to run a hand through his hair. You feel him practically purr at the contact, and with a laugh you pull him in and plant a big ole smooch on him.

The crowd, at least those of them that can see, scream. Everyone is running high on adrenaline and happy emotions; something that cute causes a ruckus!! When you pull away Beel proceeds to put you on his shoulders and you celebrate with him and the rest of his team.

The videos of you two being adorable go completely viral and there are some threads dedicated to stockpiling every single angle taken of the event. Beel is completely oblivious to the attention but you have a lot of them saved on your DDD.

Belphegor:

If you think Belphegor has any sort of social media presence whatsoever then you are sorely mistaken. (Well okay he actually does run some anonymous troll accounts to meme on Lucifer’s posts but that’s neither here nor there-)

Therefore, naturally, you two go viral off of Asmo’s Devilgram. 

Okay so someone in the obey me tag the other say headcanoned that Belphie will go out of his way to nap in ridiculous places and my brain really took that and RAN WITH IT.

So what happens is that Belphie will fall asleep in the fucking weirdest places. I’m talking on top of the fridge, underneath the dinner table, on top of bookshelves...you name it, he has slept there, no matter the effort it takes to get there in the first place. 

And, ever since you two started dating, you would join him. Sometimes it involved putting yourself at risk of great bodily harm, but the little smile he gave when you he saw you fucking scaling the countertop to reach him made it worth it.

So anyway, since Beel adores the both of you to no end, he takes pictures whenever he sees you two napping together, whether or not it is in a crazy place. He sends these to the family group chat because he thinks they’re adorable.

Over a span of weeks to months, Asmo has built up a stock of images of you and Belphie cuddles up in seemingly impossible places. Once he has about ten or so, he posts a compilation of them to his Devilgram with some cheesy ass caption like “The things we do for love <3″.

They become a meme SO QUICKLY. Like UNBELIEVABLY quickly. 

The picture of you and Belphie sleeping on top of a bookshelf, in particular, is a big hit. Memes abound.

“If my girl doesn’t climb up a bookshelf to cuddle my ass, she don’t love me.” “Get yourself a partner who scales bookshelves just to be with your ass.” Etc etc...Belphie doesn’t give a shit but you laugh at a lot of them so he sees that as a good outcome.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

The Best Quiche in Tokyo

Rating: ‼️18+ Minors Do Not Interact ‼️

Warnings: explicit sexuality (it literally takes place at an orgy so like.......Y’know)

Characters: Hatter (Takeru), Aguni, and Female Reader (You)

Summary: When one of your customers invites you to a potluck-slash-orgy, you assume the “orgy” part is a joke—because nobody really hosts a potluck and an orgy at the same time, right?

Notes: One time, @nessinborderland (happy belated birthday btw) gave me the brilliant idea of Hatter hosting an orgy and serving really good food and I just......ran with it. This ended up being part comedy, part character study—and mostly features Aguni, if you can believe it! I don’t know, I just let the story take me where it wanted to go! (Also, this is definitely the longest thing I’ve written on here, so get ready to dig in!)

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon in March, and you’re standing in front of a hat shop. Well, technically, you’re slightly to the left of a hat shop, peering down a skinny alleyway in search of a door or a set of stairs—something to indicate that there is, in fact, an apartment up there and this is not just an elaborate prank.

There is a very good chance this is a prank—after all, the eccentric man who walked into your stationary store two weeks ago seemed...off. Not in a bad way, just. One-of-a-kind. Unique. Entirely himself, in a way that people usually aren’t.

Was he flirting or was he just overly friendly when he leaned in just a bit too close to see the various fonts available for his choosing? It’s difficult to say. He did seem genuinely interested to know the difference between serif and sans serif, which doesn’t much thrill your customers on the regular. Does asking for an extra business card ‘for his personal records’ count as a pick-up line? It’s hard to say. Not that it matters much, of course—you are a professional, he is a customer, and there’s nothing more to it.

And you really are a professional, because when he told you that he wanted—in metallic gold, 30-point, center aligned—to say, quote, “The Third Annual Springtime Potluck and Orgy: Presented by Danma Takeru,” you didn’t so much as bat an eye. Partially because he was very insistent that you spell his name correctly, and partially because. Well. How does a person respond to that?

In truth, he ended up being one of your better customers—he showed a genuine interest in the process while still deferring to your expertise—and when one of the printed invitations arrived in your mailbox, you figured you might as well go see what the fuss is about. It could be an opportunity to meet some new friends, maybe drum up a little business if you’re lucky.

And besides—a potluck-slash-orgy? Who would even do that?

The merry little jingle of bell catches your attention, and you turn your head to see a solemn-looking man peeking his head around the hat shop’s glass door. He looks at you. He looks at the plastic-wrapped pie in your hands. He looks back at you.

He frowns.

“Hi,” you say, putting on your most charming smile in the hopes that he’ll stop looking at you like you just slapped him across the face, “I’m, uh, I’m here for the party!”

You shuffle over to him, careful not to scuff the white of your sensible-yet-pretty patent leather heels on the sidewalk. Maybe you’re dressed too formally—he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans while you’re sporting a calf-length chiffon dress dyed in a lovely array of watercolor blues and violets.

Oh dear, what a faux-pas! There was no dress code listed on the invite, but maybe you should’ve dressed in a more casual fashion. You don’t live far, you could probably run home quickly and change...

“Do you...have an invitation,” the man asks, crossing his arms across his chest and furrowing his brow. Is he annoyed? No, no. He seems. Confused? Wary? How very strange.

“Oh, of course,” you answer, reaching a fumbling hand into your purse to search for the little pink envelope, “I almost forgot it walking out the door, but I remembered at the last second! I can be a bit scatterbrained sometimes!”

The man doesn’t say anything, but leans forward to inspect the invitation once you manage to produce it from the cluttered mess that is your handbag.

“I know the time said it started at three, but the pie took a little longer than expected. It takes time for the chocolate to set, and—“ you gasp, covering your mouth with your invite-laden hand, “I haven’t kept you waiting, have I? I’m so sorry, Mister...?”

“Call me Aguni,” he says, and his eyes narrow slightly when you give him your most chipper ‘thank you’ and apologize for not being able to shake his hand at the moment. What a strange man.

“You,” he asks slowly, “you read the invitation, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m the one who made them,” you explain, puffing your chest up with pride, “and our host was kind enough to send one to me! He must have really liked my work!”

“...Yeah,” the man called Aguni says, “I’m sure that’s it.”

But, to your pleasure, he steps aside and holds the door open for you to enter. Such a strange man, but at least he’s gentlemanly enough to hold the door for you as you step inside.

“Oh, wow,” you say, “this place is amazing!”

And maybe it sounds silly, but you’re being entirely honest. There are hats in shelves, hats hanging on the wall, hats on faceless plastic heads on the counter and placed atop a long wooden table to the left—all of them in different shapes and colors, embellished and feathered and ribboned to the nines. There’s a certain magic to a little place like this, a kind of whimsical charm you want to bottle and keep on the kitchen windowsill.

“Walls could use some paint. Floor needs polished, too,” Aguni says, “but...yeah, I guess it’s nice enough.”

You follow him as he leads you towards the back, your eyes drinking in all the details of this fascinating little shop.

“No, no, the walls and the floor are perfect,” you assert with a wide-mouthed smile, “it gives it character. Makes it feel...like home, I think.”

“Takeru says the same thing,” Aguni answers with a chuckle, “although I also think he just doesn’t want to put in the work. He’s...not very handy.”

There is a second door at the very back of the shop, and once again, Aguni holds it open for you. Perhaps his original air of discontent was a simple case of shyness—maybe he just takes a bit to warm up to people. Well, just wait until he tries your homemade triple-chocolate silk pie; you’ll be best friends in no time!

He leads you into a tiny courtyard, which is just barely big enough to hold a steep set of metal stairs and a handful of plant pots, which remain empty due to the early spring cold. But, oh, it must be so lovely back here when the plants are in full bloom! You say as much to your companion, who actually manages to smile a bit in your direction as he leads you up the stairs.

“Those are mine, actually,” he tells you, his boot-covered feet thunking up the stairs at a leisurely pace, “He lets me garden back here.”

You picture it—this tall, stoic man, kneeling on the ground, his gloved hands tending little green sprouts as the morning sun shines gold and warm on the cold stone ground. The thought of it warms you. Does he know anything about succulents? You’ve always thought they would look so cute in the shop...

“Look,” Aguni says when the two of you reach a very drab-looking door, “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but...you sure you’re ready for this?”

What an odd thing to say! Maybe you’re acting more nervous than you originally thought? It is rather daunting, walking into a party of strangers; but, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

“You’re sweet for worrying about me,” you respond, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “but if everyone is half as lovely as you, I’m sure I’ll do just fine. I will probably stick with you for a while—if that’s okay, of course!”

“Alright, then.” Aguni says—and is that a hint of a blush you see creeping up his neck? All this time, you thought he was just being strange, but he’s just a little shy! You give his arm a knowing pat before withdrawing your touch, and he quickly turns around to unlock the door.

Are all of Takeru’s friends this adorable? You hope so. You follow your bashful escort inside—the genkan is already full of shoes, but you manage to squeeze yours in between a pair of snakeskin wedge heels and the wall. Aguni also removes his boots, and you’re happy he isn’t going to stay down in the hat shop the whole time. He can introduce you to everyone, and maybe—

You hear something. Was that...? No, no, you must be imagining things. You definitely did not just hear a woman moan on the other side of the wall. You stop and angle your head towards the door slightly to get a better listen. It’s all rather muffled (it must be well-insulated!) but there’s definitely some kind of music playing. Maybe it’s part of a song?

It happens again. This time, it’s deeper, and more of a prolonged “ah” sound. And then laughter. Aguni is looking at you in that concerned way of his again.

Instead of waiting for him to open the door for you a third time, you decide to take initiative and open it yourself—a show of confidence, to put his mind at ease. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to try and stop you, but he instead just crosses his arms and watches as you open the door to the rest of the house.

The first thing you see is candles. Little flickering spots of yellow-orange flame, winking inside clear glass votives. A trio of them on the kitchen table to the left, surrounded by a mismatched variety of trays and plates and bowls, each holding a different delicacy.

There’s a candle on the kitchen counter, next to the refrigerator. One on a bookshelf, which is filled to bowing with vinyl LP’s. Two on either side of the television, and a cluster of them on a coffee table next to a fishbowl of shiny gold squares and—

Oh.

Oh, dear.

There are limbs. Moving, writing, reaching. Hands grabbing. Mouths kissing. Mouths...doing things other than kissing. Oh, God, there’s boobs. And somebody’s butt. Aw, geez, there goes another one. How many naked people are there in here, anyways?

“Oh, hey!”

A familiar voice calls out from the fleshy throng, and your stomach drops. Like Venus emerging from the surf, you see Danma Takeru rise up from the crowd, hair mussed and smiling mouth smudged with at least two different colors of lipstick. While he does appear to be wearing some kind of brightly-patterned robe, the more he stands, the less confident you are that it’s actually covering anything.

You spin on your heel, unwilling as of the moment to become visually acquainted with your host’s penis, and you’re met once more with Aguni’s concerned stare. This time, though, you understand why he’s looking at you like that, and it makes the burn of embarrassment creeping up your neck that much hotter.

“Do you want to leave?”

This is. Oh, boy. This is a lot. Aguni must be able to sense your discomfort, although you imagine it’s rather palpable at the moment.

“I,” you say, “I don’t...know.”

And you say you don’t know because you truly don’t know what to do. Was it really so naïve of you to think that the ‘orgy’ part of the invitation was some kind of weird inside joke? Is there some kind of social protocol for these things?

You feel two hands descend upon each of your shoulders, and you try to convince yourself that they are slightly damp with sweat as opposed to any other kind of aqueous material.

“You made it,” Takeru exclaims with genuine excitement as he gives your person a gentle shake, “I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“He’s covered, don’t worry,” Aguni says to you before directing his attention over your shoulder, “I take it you didn’t tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

The hand on your right shoulder stays while the left slips away, leaving room for Takeru to stand at your side and squeeze you against him in a weird little half-hug. In another situation, you might enjoy the way the silk of his robe whispers against the skin of your arms, perhaps smile at the warm comfort of a lazy arm thrown about your shoulders like a heavy scarf, but. Well. Right now, it’s just a little...awkward.

Aguni rolls his eyes.

“About that,” he says, gesturing impatiently at the debauchery behind your back, “I mean, just look at her face.”

“Mori-chan, how could you be so rude to our lovely guest? Darling,” Takeru says, turning your face towards him with two fingers under your chin, “don’t listen to him, you’re...ah, I see what you mean.”

Is your expression really that bad? It must be, because Takeru very slowly and very carefully withdrawing his arm from around your shoulder and taking a generous step to the side. His mouth is twisted into a rather comical gaping frown, his eyes nervously darting side-to-side.

“In my defense,” he says, putting his hands up like some kind of fucked-out traffic cop at a four-way intersection, “the, uh, the orgy part was very prominent. Big letters, right at the top.”

“I,” you reply, “I thought it was...a joke?”

“This is why we don’t just hand out invitations,” Aguni grits through his teeth, “for fuck’s sake, Takeru, we’ve talked about this!”

“I know, I know. I am humble enough to admit when I’ve fucked up, and this time, I have fucked up in a truly spectacular fashion,” Takeru’s gaze shifts from horrified to quizzical as he scrutinized you for a moment, “Unless...you’d like to stay?”

You look at the pie. The slowly-warming chocolate is beginning to sweat beneath the thin film of plastic wrap you so lovingly secured with lilac ribbon.

“Or you could slap him on the way out,” Aguni offers, “he’s very slap-able.”

“It’s true! And when you slap me,” he whips his head to the side suddenly, “my hair does that and it looks really cool!”

Yeah, okay—it did look pretty cool. But, does he deserve to be slapped? Probably for something else, but not for this. It’s a simple misunderstanding, and honest mistake on both your parts.

“I want...” you start, and the way they’re looking at you, wide-eyed and breath-bated, reminds you of the final rose ceremony on The Bachelorette.

It’s kind of hilarious, actually.

“I, uh,” you continue, “I want to...to put this in the refrigerator, if that’s okay? It’s, uh, starting to melt...”

To say that Takeru’s face lights up is an understatement. With a mega-watt smile and a sparkle in his eye, he swoops his arm back around your shoulder and begins leading you towards the kitchen.

Although you have (almost) gotten used to the sea of strangers fucking and moaning in the background, you still choose to politely avert your gaze as you pass them by. You instead focus on Takeru, who has taken this opportunity to explain the inner-workings of...whatever this is.

“...And I personally see to it that these events remain exclusive,” he says, “Although I do occasionally invite outsiders, such as yourself. You were just so sweet and helpful, I couldn’t resist trying my luck and sending you an invite.”

“Thank you,” you say, “although, I, uh...”

He opens the refrigerator door and motions for you to place the pie inside. Luckily, it’s mostly empty, save for a collection of bottled water and a tin of what looks to be cat food. You’re grateful to not have to carry it around anymore, and thank him for his assistance.

It’s finally time for you to acknowledge the proverbial ‘elephant in the room’—except, you’re not exactly sure how to begin.

“I,” you start, stopping to bite your lip, “I, uh. Is it okay if I...don’t, y’know, do the whole...uh...sex thing?”

“Oh, do you prefer to watch?”

“No! I mean, no, uh,” you laugh nervously, “I’m just...”

Takeru chuckles.

“I’m only teasing. You’re more than welcome to skip the sex and go straight to the food. As long as you’re on the kitchen side, nobody will touch you. It’s one of our rules.”

He motions for Aguni to come over with a wave of his arm, smiling when the tall man comes to lean against the kitchen counter.

“Mori-chan also prefers to abstain from the more salacious aspects of our little gathering, so the two of you can keep each other company.”

“I’m usually in charge of the food,” Aguni adds, “and I try to make sure the candles stay lit.”

“I, uh, I noticed those on the way in. They’re nice.”

Takeru leans towards you as if he’s about to share a secret.

“I don’t mean to be indelicate,” he says in a low tone, “but there is a certain stench that comes with these events. Sweat, musk, various secretions...it all really adds up in the end.”

“It’s awful,” Aguni concludes, “but candles help dissipate the worst of it.”

“Oh, and the ambiance,” Takeru exclaims, “there’s just nothing like candlelight to really get people in the mood for—“

A sharp ding! makes you jump. From what you can gather, it came from the small oven to Aguni’s left.

“Hold it right there,” Takeru growls towards Aguni, who had been in the middle of donning a pair of floral-printed oven mitts, “she needs thirty more seconds.”

Aguni looks at you and rolls his eyes. You stifle a giggle behind your hand, hoping your host doesn’t notice.

“I saw that,” Takeru snips towards Aguni, “honestly, Mori-chan, you get one new friend...”

And even though he’s mid-scold, there remains a joviality to Takeru’s tone—a testament, you believe, to what can only be a long-standing friendship between him and Aguni. It’s hard not to feel jealous of their easy back-and-forth, their banter like a well-matched game of tennis.

“Now you can take her out,” Takeru says, “but, so help me God, if you don’t let her rest for seven minutes–“

“–They’ll never find my body, I know, I know,” Aguni finishes, gingerly placing a metal pan on the stove, “Look, we’ve got it handled. You can go back to your side of the party and I’ll call you when it’s plated.”

“Fine,” Takeru answers with a false pout, “but only because I know she’ll keep you honest.”

And just like that, it’s just you and Aguni once more—but, this time, he seems much more at ease to have you around. Happy, almost. It must be kind of boring, sitting alone in a kitchen while everyone else is...well, busy.

“So,” you say, moving to Aguni’s side to peer into the baking pan, “looks kind of like...a quiche?”

“Not just any quiche,” Aguni answers, opening the drawer to his right and digging a hand inside, “the best quiche in Tokyo.”

He pulls out a shiny silver chef’s knife and places it on the counter. Next comes a pair of dainty forks, delicate little things one might use for tea cakes at a French-inspired bistro. Knowing what you know about Takeru—which, granted, isn’t very much at all—it doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“You’re in front of the plates,” he says, tapping the cabinet directly in front of your face, “grab us some?”

“But we’re supposed to wait seven minutes,” you protest, all while following his instructions, “it’s only been...like, three.”

Aguni’s eyes take on a glint of mischief.

“Only a problem if we get caught.”

Honestly, it looks divine. Pillowy-soft and the perfect pale-yellow hue, delicate tendrils of steam billowing out as he drags the knife through. You hadn’t ever seen a non-rectangular quiche before, but you suppose it makes sense; there are a fair few people in attendance, and the standard circular composition wouldn’t quite feed everyone.

He serves you first. A corner piece (which he insists are the best), speckled with herbs and studded with little pieces of what you assume to be some kind of ham. Little strings of cheese stick to the blade of the knife, and Aguni scrapes them off with the side of a fork, which he then hands to you.

“Takeru doesn’t cook much,” Aguni explains, playing his own small square, “but when he does...”

The sound that comes from your mouth as you take your first bite of quiche could rival any of those happening in the orgy across the room. Oh, that is so good! Buttery crust, the salt of cheese and ham, the subtle bite of onion—and there’s something else there, something you can’t quite place, but you know it tastes absolutely heavenly. Immediately, you take another bite.

“Grew the herbs de Provence myself,” Aguni mentions, “He refuses to use store-bought.”

“Makes all the difference,” you respond, “I could eat the whole pan by myself.”

“I did that for my last birthday, actually,” Aguni chuckles around a forkful of quiche, “Takeru insisted on putting all thirty-eight candles in before carrying it to the table—you know, like a dumbass. Part of his hair caught fire, and I had to give him a haircut at two in the morning because he was so distraught.”

The two of you laugh—Aguni at the memory, and you at the idea of a tearful Takeru sulking as Aguni snipping the fried locks with a pair of kitchen shears.

“He forgave me, even though I took a whole two inches off,” Aguni sets his empty plate in the sink and looks out of the small window above it, “He’s not a bad guy, you know. Doesn’t always make the best choices, sure, but he’s got a good heart in him.”

There is a sadness here, something in Aguni that speaks to a troubled past you haven’t quite unearthed yet—and you know better than to press him, especially here, especially now.

“Well, I can’t say I’m an expert,” you say, handing him your plate, “but you two seem like decent people. Orgies aside, of course.”

“Of course,” Aguni nods, “though I don’t suppose you’ll come to the next one, will you?”

For the first time since your arrival, you allow yourself to watch the festivities happening across the room. It isn’t that bad, you suppose—it’s just a group of people having a fun time together, laughing and gasping and enjoying each others’ bodies in a safe and comfortable place. It’s not something you necessarily want to do yourself, but...well, the ‘weird’ factor of the whole thing has gone down exponentially over the past hour or so.

“And miss out on the best quiche in Tokyo,” you say, nudging against Aguni’s arm with your shoulder, “not a chance!”

[nancylou444]

I tried to be nice

Replies to this post:

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Became this:

THEM:  hi! thanks for the answers I really appreciate the discussion. normally if someone ships something I don’t like or something like that, I’ll just leave them alone but.. just to be clear I completely respect all of your opinions, even agree with some of them, even if we might disagree on the incest and Castiel haha. So I don’t mean any disrespect with this at all, please let me know if I’m out of line though!  

 But... I saw some things you said, and they come across to me in a way that I don’t think you intended? I feel really awkward sending this haha, you’re very nice and I don’t think you said anything on purpose, but I just.. wanted to let you know that some of the things regarding your opinion on certain characters come across not very well? I don’t think it’s intentional or anything, and I don’t mean to call you out at all which is why I didn’t want to point it out in the replies y’know?  

 Don’t get me wrong though, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with not liking castiel or destiel. I’ve been watching the show for a while with my dad, and he isn’t a huge fan either, I don’t think that’s a problem :) 

I’d continue without waiting for a response but I don’t want to say something you’ve already been told, or continue without knowing if I’ve said something out of line already 😅

ME:  I'm kind of distracted dealing with my Mom's rehab center. But you can keep going.

THEM: Alright! I’ve tried rephrasing this a million times but I don’t know how to make it seem not antagonistic. I promise I don’t mean that you’re doing it intentionally, it’s just, uh a lot of your criticism of spn feels like it could be read as homophobic? Again I don’t think YOU are I just wanted you to know it kind of reads that way!

That sounded so confrontational. I really don’t mean it that way 😭

ME: HOMOPHOBIC? Really? A lot of the 'proof' your fellow shippers use border on stereotypes but you think I'M homophobic? Considering my top two ships are Wincest and Malec. Yeah, sounds confrontational.

THEM:  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I guess there’s no other way to say it, but I understand why you feel accused. What do you mean by proof..?

Also I don’t really think having gay ships means you can’t be homophobic. *I* used to be homophobic years ago, and I’m a gay person!

ME:  How old are you? https://nancylou444.tumblr.com/post/154098904136/a-guide-to-dean-winchesters-imaginary-bisexuality

THEM:  yeah this is starting to get frustrating. I’m gonna be real with you, why does it matter if people think dean is bisexual? like, bottom line, that is my question for you

and your answer will determine if your veracity is homophobic. why does it matter that some people think dean is bisexual. not the fans or actors or writers or anything. why does it matter that some viewers will watch, and they will think dean is bisexual?

ME:  My problem isn't that some people think he is bi IN FANON, my problem is that they want CONFIRMATION OF A FANON SHIP. And that some people DENY how the show ended. These same people think that fake weddings are more canon than the FINAL EPISODE.

THEM:  I get what you mean, but how is it a fanon ship when it’s confirmed romantic from one side, and interpretable as mutually reciprocated in Latin America? (I’m going to disregard the bit about the wedding, because I’m a firm believer in Neil Gaiman variety death of the author. Also that’s just people having fun with fanon, who cares?)

ME:  Confirmed romantic?By whom MISHA, who wanted to sell necklaces? Have you never said 'i love you' to a FRIEND or FAMILY member? The dub is not canon, so don't even try using that as proof. Death of the author is just another way of saying MY VIEW OF THE SHOW IS SUPERIOR TO HOW THE CREATOR WANTS TO SEE IT. Jensen has said many times that the ship isn't canon and that Dean is straight. But it's better to believe what Misha says because he agrees with you. You think somebody is bi because of how they sit or the color clothes they wear? That would make YOU homophobe.

THEM:  LOL You know what? I change my answer. I looked through your blog and you ACTIVELY and viscously hate Cas, Charlie, Claire, Kaia and the implication that Jack may not be straight. You’ve said Cas coming out as gay and in love with dean makes the rest of his actions predatory, compared him to a teenage girl, called him creepy, and openly rejoiced in your idea that dean looked ‘disgusted with him’. You said that Claire is awful, that Kaia is a wooden plank, that they ‘shoved them together’ for ‘woke points’ and said that Jody saying Claire was IN LOVE WITH Kaia ‘doesnt count’ and called it ‘lip service’. And it doesn’t end there! After all this, you said that you preferred the old better s4 Claire. Is it because she was ostensibly straight? Are you uncomfortable with queer women? And then you have the audacity to use these characters (Claire and Kaia and Charlie) as reasons to epicly own the Hellers and claim they already have represention. You are a completely disingenuous bitch and I don’t care to be nice to you anymore! I don’t feel AT ALL charitable toward you anymore, and I don’t care if you have gay ships. Gay people aren’t here for you to fetishize! You CONSTANTLY mock and ridicule jokes made by queer people regarding deans bisexuality or Cas being gay or any number of things. You constantly reaffirm that Dean is straight and call people who think otherwise delusional and disgusting, while you think dean is in romantic sexual love with his male sibling. You are openly hostile to the idea of non-binary jack and were pissed that Alcal endorsed that. You devalue Jack’s value and relationship to Cas who is, textually, his father figure. I have NO reason not to think that you are homophobic. I don’t care anymore! You’re a huge bitch and, judging by your prior responses and posts, a genuine dialogue regarding queerness in spn is impossible. You regard any instance of canonically queer moments ‘lip service’ and so regard it. You actively hate every canonically gay character and degrade them using traditionally homophobic tropes and stereotypes.

Feel free to explain how you aren’t homophobic. I’m so sorry if I got the wrong impression.

ME: Wow I see your true colors have come out HELLER.

THEM:  Idc if you think I’m mean. Go ahead and make a post about me lol, have fun with it. Give me a moment to respond to your paragraph it’s... a lot to dissect.

I’ll touch on your comments about the dub and the Spanish language in a moment. First though

I ’m gonna be real with you, I don’t think you know what death of the author is. Neil Gaiman’s variety of the dead author principal is that once canon ends, the story belongs to those that consume and engage with it. That’s... also literally the theme of supernaturals final season. Anyway I really recommend you read up on death of the author and Neil Gaiman’s takes on fanon. It’s a fun way to consume your media, and in the end that’s what I’m here for.

I don’t care what Misha says, and I don’t care what Jensen says! I think they are both queer because I have eyes and watched the show. I think it’s a lovely narrative that is supported by canon, and it’s fine if you disagree with that

On your last sentence there... lol. It’s a common joke in queer circles that gays can’t sit properly, specifically bisexuals. Same thing with the clothing, it’s a SUPER common joke for example that lesbians wear flannel. Maybe you need to go outside and talk to some normal, non-incest shipping queer people. But what do I know!

And finally... ‘the Spanish dub isnt canon’

I am literally cuban. My first language is SPANISH. my entire household speaks Spanish, and my family past 1st cousins don’t speak any English. My Boricua cousins have watched supernatural in full for years, and they watch it in Spanish. Do you think America is the center of the universe? Do you think our media is somehow less than yours, that our interpretations of English language media isn’t valid? What, do you think we are idiots who don’t know how to analyze literature and media? Do you think the people who work at Telemundo, people employed as dubbers and translators, you think they do a worse job than the American crew?

Why, because they aren’t American or don’t speak English? ‘Te amo’ said to a non family member is, in 99% of any instance, ROMANTIC. it’s something you say to your spouse in serious situations like weddings!! Even MARRIED people don’t normally say te amo, everyone uses te quiero unless it is very serious or romantic in context.

All of my family who are Spanish language, they heard dean say ‘y a yo ti, cas’ and think that they were in romantic love. Sorry dude! The United States might be the center of your universe, but Latin America is HUGE. Spanish is one of the most spoken languages in the WORLD. In fact, more people speak Spanish than English. Sorry that you seem to hate gay characters SO MUCH you have to say an entire language somehow isn’t valid to consume media in!

ME: 

Obviously this heller is batshit crazy. 

Some of those things she thinks I said just show she has no idea how to follow a tumblr thread. 

You are a completely disingenuous bitch and I don’t care to be nice to you anymore! I don’t feel AT ALL charitable toward you anymore, and I don’t care if you have gay ships. Gay people aren’t here for you to fetishize! You CONSTANTLY mock and ridicule jokes made by queer people regarding deans bisexuality or Cas being gay or any number of things. You constantly reaffirm that Dean is straight and call people who think otherwise delusional and disgusting, while you think dean is in romantic sexual love with his male sibling.

Wow. 

I have NO reason not to think that you are homophobic. I don’t care anymore! You’re a huge bitch and, judging by your prior responses and posts, a genuine dialogue regarding queerness in spn is impossible. You regard any instance of canonically queer moments ‘lip service’ and so regard it. You actively hate every canonically gay character and degrade them using traditionally homophobic tropes and stereotypes.

Where have I hated canon gay characters and degraded them using tropes and stereotypes? The bitch has me confused with HER FELLOW SHIPPERS. 

Gotta love how she is defending the Spanish dub. Hit a nerve did I? 

It’s a common joke in queer circles that gays can’t sit properly, specifically bisexuals. Same thing with the clothing, it’s a SUPER common joke for example that lesbians wear flannel. Maybe you need to go outside and talk to some normal, non-incest shipping queer people.

Now who is using stereotypes? 

[tainted-wine]

New Year’s Love and Rambles

Will 2021 be better? I don’t know, but I’m happy to see 2020 go!

In hindsight, 2020 was merciful to me for the most part, though the last 3 months were rough with some unexpected losses and sad events. I’m grateful to have friends and loved ones that are willing to help me through these tough times, as I know that not everyone has this privilege. I hope this will be a better year for everyone, whether you’ve been struggling or not. ♥♥♥

On January 18, my blog will officially be a year old. I didn’t know what to expect when I hopped onto Tumblr, the site that I’m still mad at for removing all of my favorite adult art and comics. I’ve always enjoyed consuming fan-created content, so it was great to finally join a platform where I can keep track and send love to all of my favorites.

Dipping my feet into writing for the first time was the really hard part, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from lurking in art communities, it’s that most creators, no matter how experienced, are always at least a little nervous about sharing their work. So I started writing shit and...whatever this is taking too long I’m not here to write an autobiography I’m just here to say I’m incredibly thankful for all the great interactions I’ve had with loving readers, talented writers, and other kind souls that I’ve had the pleasure of crossing paths with.

There are days where I wish I had decided to do all of this earlier, during a much less hectic year. But that means I probably wouldn’t have met all of the people that I know now, and besides, it was very heartwarming to watch the community bond while we’re all trapped together in quarantine.

My Hero Academia and its fandom have claimed a special place in my heart, as there’s only one other franchise that I’ve ever felt this fixated on, and that franchise needs to get off its ass, put every Pokemon model in their game, and make that shit feel like its worth $60. I still love you Pokemon and will probably buy your next games anyway.

Moving on, time to tag some awesome folks that have played a big part in making my time here amazing!

A thank you to the writers that I’ve been following since the beginning. Hell, I’ve been lurking on some of these blogs long before I even had an account!

@kazooli @dee-madwriter @keigos-dove @lady-bakuhoe @wings-flames-and-ashes @trafalgar-temptress @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @pleasantanathema @seigesinbin @katsukisprincess @queensynderella @tomurasprincess

All of your amazing fics helped pave the way and gave me the strength to try creating my own. I know that I haven’t interacted with all of you, but you all have made an impact on this one little blogger that you haven’t even talked to, so thank you very much for that!

Kazooli, thank you for giving me and so many others the courage to explore our darker fantasies. I hope you’re aware of how big of an inspiration you are to lovers of dark content!

Leah! Y’know, I’m still really picky when it comes to bdsm and daddy/mommy dynamics, but your hot works never fail to pull me in. Thank you for being such a generous and kind writer and educator! I hope to be able to talk to you and the citrus crew more in the future!

Keigos-dove, I hope you’re doing alright out there in the real world! I fell in love with your blog the moment it was created. Your soft and heartwarming content was only the beginning of my descent into Hawks madness.

It’s been tough accepting my place as a Hawks whore, and thanks to many equally thirsty writers, climbing out of this hole gets harder each day!

@lovekeigo @keilemlucent @keiqos @keigosbirdie @hawnks @bibbidi-bobbidi-birb @smutbardpeach 

Wami you amazing queen! It’s been such a joy watching your blog grow, dishing out one quality fic after the other! I strive for your drive and work ethic. 😫 I cherish the time we spent thirsting for the bird together. You made summer a magical and horny time!

You too, Salem! The variety in your spicy content is incredible! Please know that your talent in hitting every kind of emotion and tone, whether it be heart-melting softness or painful angst, is a rare one and you should feel proud!

Peach, I know I’ve gushed about your writing before but the fact that I’m doing it yet again shows how amazed I continue to be. The elegance in your wording is one of a kind, and it’s still difficult to describe. Thank you so much for your masterpieces.

BIRB! Don’t think you’re safe from my ass-kissing, you master of building original worlds and lore! Seriously tho I’m so glad that you created a blog, we’re so happy to have you. I’m excited to see what your next portrayal of Hawks will be so that I can hate and love him at the same time.

And now for some additional thanks to other special folks!

@writeiolite I’ve already told you but dammit thank you for being both an awesome chatting buddy and such a supportive follower I don’t deserve you. You’ve given me so many smiles and laughs.

@la-saffron Your sexy art continues to dodge Tumblr’s trigger-happy hand and I don’t know how the hell you keep doing it. I adore both your original characters and your Hawks fanart; you really know how to capture the beauty of bodies.

And of course, thank you to all of my lovely followers! I know that both my content and schedule is unpredictable. You all have stuck around as I wrote about bird ruts, plushie brawls, and monster fucking. Never in a million years would I have expected so many people to enjoy this...stuff that I make. You sweethearts help push away my ever-lingering self-doubt and keep me motivated. I hope to keep providing whatever the hell comes to mind throughout this year.

You all have made my Tumblr experience as great as can be! Happy New Year! - 🍷

[cade-flrt]

[🪐] WHEN SHE LOVED ME

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pairing. marcia x cherry

desc. where your soulmate’s name appears on your wrist once they’ve fallen in love with you, which only you and your soulmate can see

type. oneshot, song fic, soulmate au, angst

warnings. mention of death, illness

notes. nothing rlly except i hope y’all enjoy :))) based off the song when she loved me also this is a repost bc i deleted the last one by accident LMFAO

“when somebody loved me,”

whistling a soft tune with her eyes closed, marcia sat leaning against the fence of her front porch steps. she was watching the orange and red colours fall down south as the deep blue started to take over, slowly but surely.

it was a routine, at this point. to watch the sun set and to watch the redhead pass by her house each and every time.

sometimes they shared small glances, sometimes even smiles— but sometimes marcia just admired her, for a few seconds without the girl even noticing.

marcia got lost in thought thinking about her, and as if heaven above was listening to her, she heard the familiar footsteps walking by on the concrete pavement.

she quickly raised herself slightly, peering over the edge to get a peak at the girl as if she was some famous celebrity. marcia let out a small ‘tsk’ at herself, she’ll think your a weirdo. but then, she heard the familiar footsteps walking closer.

“hello!” the redhead stood in front of marcia, raising a small hand to wave. “i’ve noticed you looking at me for these past few months?” it was intended to be a statement, marcia could tell, but it came out more like a question.

“well it takes two to tango,” marcia replied simply which left the girl across from her confused. she crossed her arms and her hip was stuck out slightly.

“meaning?”

“you gotta be lookin’ at me too to see me lookin’ at you.”

she thought about it for a while, then a look of finality coming up on her face. “fair enough.” she said simply, going to sit next to marcia on the porch steps.

she felt her heartbeat quicken as the cotton of her sweater brushed against her shoulder, she was sitting so close.

“i’m sherri, but my friends call me cherry—“ sherri, or shall we say cherry, started introducing herself before marcia interrupted her.

“because of your hair? yeah figured,” she shrugged with a half smile on her face. usually, cherry would be mad at someone for interrupting her but instead this time she just let it go and decided not to mention it.

“yeah... you go to my school to something?” cherry asked, raising a singular eyebrow with pursed lips.

marcia let out a small sigh, “probably. but i could just tell, because your hair’s red, cherry’s are red... y’know... 2 + 2 = 4.” she replied playfully. she did know the cherry girl went to her school, marcia always saw her about.

“yeah i get it, no need to get smart...” cherry trailed off as she realised she didn’t know the brunette’s name. marcia probably would’ve answered quicker if she didn’t catch herself staring in her eyes.

marcia soon realised the situation and snapped back to reality, “marcia, the name’s marcia.”

cherry nodded, then standing up. “well marcia, i’ll best get going. my folks will be worried if i don’t get home soon, i’ll see you around yeah?”

“sure.”

“everything was beautiful,”

it was a few weeks later, marcia and cherry had gotten to talking and they soon became quite close friends. marcia enjoyed having cherry around, she always managed to put a smile on her face.

marcia stood, watering the flowers in her backyard as she was listening to the faded music playing from the record player playing from inside her house. she loved her flowers and other variety of plants, they made her happy every time she saw their beauty.

just like cherry, she thought with a small smile as she continued to pour more water without even thinking about it. she got lost in thought thinking about her new friend.

lord, how she hated that word.

“mar?”

marcia’s head perked up at the sound of the soft voice calling from beside her. “oh— cherry, you’re here.”

“yeah, just in time it seems too.” cherry chuckled a little, taking the green watering can from marcia to stop her from over watering the plants; though it seemed to be a little too late for that.

“you wanna go somewhere?” marcia asked, dusting off her hands on the light yellow skirt she was wearing. it protected her legs from the slight spring breeze.

“nah, let’s just sit here. watch the clouds or something cheesy like that.” cherry flashed her a wide grin, walking over slightly to lay down on the grass as marcia followed.

marcia felt the grass poke at her bare arms and back, inhaling the fresh air. “that one looks like a dinosaur.” she pointed at a cloud in the sky.

“hm, i’m not sure. i think it looks more like a car,” cherry disagreed, her head tilting to the side as her blue-green eyes examined the cotton like clouds above.

“and i think you need glasses if that’s what you see!” marcia exclaimed, sitting up on her elbows raising her eyebrows.

cherry giggled, slapping the other girl’s arm playfully. “art is subjective!” she reasoned in a higher pitched voice than usual.

“this ain’t art, this is just clouds?” marcia said, but it came out more as if it was supposed to be a question. she looked down at the redhead beside her, who was just staring up at the sky.

“well, i don’t know. i think you can find art in anythin’ and everything, beauty in anythin’ and everything. like these clouds; they’re beautiful, art-like— i mean look at that one! it looks like it was shaped perfectly by someone.” cherry explained her point of view which left marcia thinking about it for a while, and she ended up with the conclusion that she agreed.

marcia just then noticed that ever since she met cherry, everything was beautiful to her. or she could find the best parts in everyone and everything, guess that’s just cherry’s effect on people, is what she thought.

“every hour that we spent together,”

cherry sang a small song under her breath as she sat in front/underneath of marcia, who was sitting on her own bed. marcia ran her hand through cherry’s hair, then following it up with a brush. “can i do your hair?”

cherry just hummed as a small confirmation. at this sound, marcia continued and started braiding it into a singular braids. “your hair is so soft,” she commented with a small sigh.

“there’s a reason i take so long in showers.” cherry responded simply with a small shrug as she then stretched over to grab her notebook and started drawing something.

“what you drawin’?”

“just a little something.”

“should i be scared?” marcia asked, half joking half serious with a nervous laugh as she grabbed a band and tied the auburn locks at the end.

“no, don’t worry,” cherry shook her head. “plus if it was something bad, i’d be here to protect you.” she turned around to face the brunette and winked.

“wow, not scared no more!” marcia raised her voice a little and even marcia herself couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

she always felt safe with cherry around, as if nothing could touch her.

only cherry and her against the world.

just her and her best friend.

there was that word again.

friend.

“lives within my heart,”

marcia coughed into the handkerchief that she was holding in her hand. when she moved it away from her mouth, she noticed one thing and one thing only; it was stained with red.

a small gasp left her lips, the sight making her frown. “that can’t be good...”

“what can’t be good?” the same voice she had heard each and every day for the past few months asked.

marcia looked up and quickly crumpled the napkin up and threw it in the trash can, sitting in her room.

she looked down and realised cherry was carrying what looked like a crate filled with a load of varieties of things.

“oh it’s nothing... what’s that for?” marcia pointed to the said crate. she genuinely wanted to know but figured it would also be a good excuse to change the subject.

“oh, i figured we could go to the beach today!” cherry moved on from the past subject, seemingly forgetting it which made tension in marcia lessen.

“sure, sure, i’ll just need to ask my folks—” marcia started but cherry made a ‘mhm’ sound, wagging a finger. cherry placed the crate on the ground, letting her arms rest.

“already asked for you! they said yes, so you don’t really have an option here.” cherry put it simply. she walked over to the bed, dragging marcia along with her as they both fell down onto it. they both sat up straight.

“how funny,” marcia replied nonchalantly but on the inside her heart was beating and her cheeks were visibly heating up.

she never thought anyone would care about her like how cherry cared about her. she never thought anyone would think of her as much as cherry thought of her— or at least, she hoped cherry thought about her as much as she thought about her.

“cherry, you got your soulmate’s name on your wrist yet?” marcia pried, speaking out of nowhere and asking this question out of nowhere.

cherry gulped a little, looking a bit taken aback. she hesitated before answering, “yes..”

marcia’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she prodded her on to continue who it was. as cherry didn’t seem to get the memo, she simply grabbed the other girl’s wrist and looked down at the name tattooed in black.

marcia

they both sat there in complete silence for what seemed like centuries. marcia wasn’t quite sure what to feel, and she wasn’t quite sure on what was appropriate to react.

but marcia did know how she herself wanted to react.

marcia pulled cherry into her, connecting their lips almost instantly which made cherry’s eyes widen for a split second. she then relaxed into the kiss as marcia placed her hands on the side of cherry’s face, cherry placing her arms on marcia’s shoulders.

at first, they both didn’t move and just stayed like this but then they both started kissing each other back. their lips fit perfectly together as if they were building pieces that were made for each other, maybe they were. the universe works in funny ways, sometimes.

they both kept kissing each other in silence for what seemed to be hours, not making any other noises other than the smacking of their lips.

so much for a beach trip huh? marcia thought.

“and when she was sad,”

marcia paced back in forth in her room, she was waiting for cherry to get there and was biting her nails anxiously.

“mar? what’s up?” cherry came from behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. they had made it official only two weeks before, ever since that day marcia kissed her.

“i need to tell you something.”

“cheating on me, already?” cherry joked, but marcia didn’t seem to laugh which made cherry concern. cherry went to sit on the chair that was right next to marcia’s bed. she got more and more anxious the longer marcia put off telling her. “well come on, what is it then?”

marcia quickly but quietly hopped onto her bed, turning to face cherry and shimmied over to the edge of the bed. she held cherry’s hands in hers, almost to comfort her. “i’m sick, sher.”

“oh well that ain’t so bad, why you making such a big fuss over it?” cherry cocked an eyebrow, mistaking the information she just retained as marcia just having the common cold, a fever or worst case scenario; the flu.

“no, no. it ain’t like that,” marcia waved her off, continuing on. “i’m sick, like... badly, gonna be for a long time— hell, maybe even the rest of my life. doc said so, they don’t know what’s wrong with me just yet but they know it ain’t good.”

marcia tried to read the expression on cherry’s face but couldn’t seem to understand. she had no expression, just blankness. it was almost as if she was a blank canvas that was yet to be painted over.

“you gonna die, mar?” cherry finally reacted after the long silence, her voice shaking slightly and she released her hands from marcia’s.

marcia couldn’t tell if she was mad at her, or maybe just shocked. she decided to go with the latter, for her own sanity.

marcia thought about the question long and hard, trying to come up with an exact answer. but even marcia couldn’t answer it, instead she just kept silent.

but silence was a yes to cherry.

suddenly, cherry just stood up and walked out of the room.

“s’ she mad at me?” marcia asked herself in a low whisper. “golly, that’s all i need.”

“i was there to dry her tears,”

marcia had got told by her doctor to refrain from moving about if not necessary and was put on bed rest. she looked different. she was paler, looked almost gray-ish. her nails were brittle, her hair was thinner and there was less of it too.

cherry was there almost every hour of everyday. she made sure of it, and she made sure to look after marcia as best as she could. she would catch marcia up on what was going on at school, since marcia decided to make the decision to drop out.

marcia couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if she was robbing cherry of enjoyment. but cherry swore on the good lord that she didn’t mind, and would rather be there with her girlfriend than out there with randoms.

there’s a word she liked, girlfriend. compared to friend, she liked this word.

but marcia, every time she as much reached out, always noticed something. that her wrist was blank.

whilst cherry’s was stained with (seemingly) black ink that had marcia’s name on it. marcia had nothing on hers, meaning cherry didn’t love her.

“why’s that?” marcia would often find herself wondering.

you’re not good enough.

she likes someone else.

because you can’t do anything but stay in your bed all day.

you’re useless.

all these conclusions often circled around marcia’s mind, but cherry would say that it was a load of garbage and the universe is just playing games.

well that is, if they ever talked about it. they only talked about it once or twice, they didn’t like mentioning it and marcia tried to block it out of her thoughts as well as she could.

“open up!” cherry commanded marcia to do so, which she followed through and opened her mouth slightly. cherry sat beside the bed on the same chair as before, a tray on her lap with a bowl of soup. the spoon filled to the brim with yellow coloured soup found it’s way to marcia’s mouth after some time.

“you know,” marcia started but stopped to finish chewing a piece of chicken, “you don’t gotta feed me, i can do that by myself. i ain’t five.”

cherry just simply rolled her eyes at this statement, “well, yeah. but i like doing it, it makes me happy— don’t you want your girlfriend to be happy?” she gave marcia over exaggerated puppy dog eyes.

“yeah, whatever you want..” marcia gave in, swallowing the piece of chicken. truth is, she had started to lose her sense of taste. as well as her other senses, her sense of hearing was already pretty much gone and don’t even bring up her sense of smell.

god knows what goes next. her sense of touch and sight? well, marcia figured she couldn’t lose her sense of touch just like that but she was rather scared about her sight.

she remembered her doctor saying something about her potentially losing her sight and she felt it coming. her vision was getting worse by the day, becoming more and more blurry.

“you’d still like me if i couldn’t see or anythin’ right?” marcia spoke from out of nowhere, making cherry jump slightly.

cherry looked highly confused and put the bowl of soup and the tray on the ground. she frowned, “yes of course, that won’t change nothing. why?”

“just checkin’.” marcia lied, getting comfortable in her bed. she shifted about slightly, she just couldn’t get comfortable anymore. it was always too warm with the blankets over her, and way too cold without them on her.

her doctor and cherry alike recommended to keep the covers over her, as a lot of the time, marcia couldn’t even tell what her actual body temperature was.

marcia looked over to see cherry painting once more in the small notebook she brought around with her.

marcia was still yet to find out what she was actually painting, but she decided not to bother her.

she quickly found her eyes shutting close almost by herself, a wave of tiredness taking over her mind and body.

but her mind and body suddenly shot awake when she heard quiet sobs coming from beside her. “cherry?”

then, marcia looked up to find cherry sobbing into her hands with the notebook and painting set on the floor. marcia felt very confused on why she was crying. “what’s wrong?”

“it’s just that... you don’t deserve to be locked up here or whatever, it makes me sad y’know..” cherry tried to explain her feelings between sobs, marcia reacted quickly by stretching over to hold cherry in her arms. she hoped she made cherry feel as safe as cherry made her feel.

“it’s alright, don’t worry. it’s not that bad.. anyways, who was i gonna meet out there? the president?” marcia tried to cheer her up with a subtle joke, and it seemed to do the trick. “i got you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

cherry sniffed a few times before nodding, “yeah, i guess you’re right.”

“am never wrong, doll!”

“and when she was happy, so was i,”

“baby, oh baby!” cherry sang along to b-a-b-y by carla thomas, the record that was playing softly in the background. she was dancing about marcia’s room, the doctor had just been, as usual, and just left.

she was trying to cheer up marcia, as she noticed marcia usually felt much more sad when he came around. he wasn’t a bad guy or anything, he just never had any good news for marcia. he had just told them that he and the optician both believe she would be losing her sight much sooner than expected.

“i love to call you baby!” cherry continued to sing. she somehow found a scarf in marcia’s room somewhere and was dancing around with it.

even though marcia felt sad, whenever she saw cherry, she couldn’t help but smile.

it was cheesy, she knows but she doesn’t care.

even though marcia had the gut feeling all the time that cherry truly didn’t love her, she tried to push that deep down into the pits of hell.

“of course she loves me,” marcia mumbled to herself. over the loud music playing, cherry couldn’t hear what she was hearing— and she was far too distracted to notice anyways.

yet, she found herself glancing down at her wrist and winced at the bareness of it. there was still yet no ink to be found, she wondered what she could possibly do.

but then she saw cherry flash that iconic smile, and found herself distracted from all bad thoughts.

“through the summer and the fall,”

“marcia! get up!”

marcia jumped up from the bed at the sound of cherry’s voice shouting through the house. “jesus, cherry. if i wasn’t going to die as it was, i was gonna die of shock.”

“don’t make jokes like that.” cherry stated, in a very serious tone that marcia never heard her use before. she and cherry knew it was true, but they both mutually agreed to not bring it up. marcia was so weak now that she found herself not even being able to get up or get changed on her own, so often it was her mother or cherry helping her.

“i’m driving you!” cherry moved on from the topic quickly, deciding not to talk about it anymore and pretend it never happened.

“to where?”

“does it matter? just around the place. to get fresh air.” cherry answered the question, opening the curtains to get some fresh light in.

“i can get fresh air in here, yknow.” marcia turning to face the window, which cherry was standing right next to as she fixed the curtains.

“a short breeze from the window don’t count,” cherry started looking through her drawers. she pulled out some clothes and threw it towards— or directly at, marcia, (her face to be exact). “get changed.”

“jeez, i’m on it! i’m on it!”

after getting ready, (cherry helping), marcia and cherry were sat in cherry’s car. she was just driving around the place, going through small hills and remote areas. the radio was blasting loudly, and they were quickly driving by the beach.

“we should get a house by the seaside someday, how ‘bout that?” marcia offered, she admired the blues that made up the sea and the tan beiges that made up the sand.

“sure, and if a tsunami come then oh well!” cherry agreed to it, shrugging her shoulders as she tapped the steering wheel along to the beat of the song playing on the radio.

“at least we’ll die in a good house,” marcia shrugged, speaking half seriously and half sarcastically. cherry laughed at her joke, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“we had each other, that was all,”

marcia held cherry tight in her arms, as cherry was lying on top of her. she rubbed the back of her head softly, cherry singing soft lullabies.

“i ain’t a baby, you don’t gotta sing no lullaby to me,” marcia chuckled, rolling her eyes as she twirled a part of cherry’s hair with her finger.

“well you’re my baby!” cherry declared, giving a small kiss and marcia fake gagged.

“gross, never say that again!”

“oi, i’m trying to be nice here.” cherry faked a pout, leaning her head into marcia’s chest. she just listened to her heartbeat.

“i’d rather you tell me you want me dead than that.” marcia over exaggerated, which made them both laugh at the statement.

“well then, i want you dead!”

“well, your wish already seems to be granted.” marcia tried to joke along with her again, but cherry just stopped. she was no longer laughing.

“what did i tell you about joking about that?” cherry scolded in the same tone as before, marcia gulped fearfully.

“just she and i together,”

at this point, it had been about 2 years since marcia got sick. marcia couldn’t even leave the bed anymore, she was asleep half of the time and when she was awake she could hardly talk.

and one major thing.

there was still no name on her wrist.

not that she could see it anyways, her vision was completely gone. everything was too blurry snd the world around her was just one big blob.

all she could get out of the world anymore was cherry’s sweet voice beside her, talking about whatever was going on in her life.

“cherry?”

“yes?”

“you love me, right?”

“‘course.”

“you on my wrist yet, then?”

cherry stopped talking, and stopped breathing it seemed like at the question. she knew better than to lie to marcia about something like this, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“don’t lie to me, now..” marcia said, shaking her head as her hands found their way to the sides of her own head in frustration.

“it’s just... i don’t know what’s going on.. maybe the universe is playin’ tricks or somethin’..” cherry tried to reason with marcia, she truly didn’t know what was going on.

“the universe playing tricks? that’s a joke if i ever heard one,” marcia scoffed, which left cherry rather upset. she had never talked like this before, but she decided not to mention it.

“it’s jus—”

“just what? you don’t love me, that’s what!” marcia raised her voice, which almost left cherry in tears at the sound. “you don’t love me! you obviously wanna be with one of those other girls! you don’t want me! you just pity me! well i don’t want your pity!” she shouted, obviously frustrated as her voice cracked at every word.

suddenly, her eyes shut tightly and that made cherry’s heart drop. “marcia!”

“oh calm it, it’s nothin’.” marcia said, her voice croaky as ever. she rolled onto her side so that her back was facing cherry.

cherry was relieved she didn’t just die on her but was still hurt by her words. she stood up and slipped into the bed, wrapping her arms around marcia’s waist.

marcia let out a sigh, she couldn’t stay mad at her much longer. she knew this, she never could stay mad at cherry. well, she never was mad at her in the first place.

“i’m sorry, sher. just frustrated is all,” marcia grumbled, her voice still sounded semi mad but cherry could tell her apology was sincere.

“don’t worry,” was all cherry said in response, planting a small kiss on marcia’s shoulder.

“i love you.” marcia said, she waited for cherry’s response but to no avail. it broke her heart, but she decided to just sleep it off. she’ll be better after some sleep.

“i love you too,” cherry admitted wholeheartedly. but marcia was already in dreamland by that time, so no one but cherry heard it.

if a tree falls in a forest when no one is around, does it really make a sound?

she was being truthful about it— well, she thought she was. cherry took a peek over marcia’s shoulder, to just see the blank wrist.

then it hit cherry. she was afraid of loving someone, and she afraid they were just going to leave her.

not marcia, though.

marcia would never leave me, is what cherry declared.

cherry woke marcia awake, “psst, marcia,” she whispered and just got a hum in response.

“i’m gonna go, okay? bye!” cherry told her in the same cheerful tone and stars yes to get out of the bed.

“not now... don’t say goodbye yet... maybe tomorrow...” marcia replied simply, grabbing cherry to stop her and dragging her back to her original position.

“alright, i’ll say goodbye tomorrow.” cherry agreed with a small smile, not knowing quite what she meant and she happily went to sleep next to marcia.

“like it was meant to be,”

it was the next day, after last night. and cherry had woke up, went back to her house and already walked back to marcia’s.

she walked up to marcia’s room, going to sit in her usual position in marcia’s room.

the chair next to the bed.

“hey mar, wake up.” she shook marcia awake, and even though it took a few times, she awoke eventually.

“oh hey, cherry,” marcia replied. her voice was even more raspy in the morning and cherry loved it. it was the only reason marcia spoke anymore, as speaking put marcia in even more pain but she never told cherry that.

they both sat there, talking about whatever (cherry done most of the talking). soon enough, cherry had pieces of toast and was feeding them to marcia.

“oh cherry, y’know that painting you started a few years back?” marcia recalled, waving her finger around for emphasis.

“yeah?” cherry said her words with a slight laugh, she found it hard to believe she could remember that but couldn’t even remember what she ate of lunch yesterday.

“what was that of?”

“oh just the clouds, y’know the one that we saw that one day? turns out it does look more like a dinosaur!” cherry exclaimed, clasping her hands together as all the pieces of toast were gone.

“told you i was always right,” marcia gave a small shrug as a playful grin was plastered on her face. “it’s a shame i never got to see it— your painting, i mean. i used to love your paintings, well i still do. i just love everything you do, to be honest. i just love you!”

cherry stayed silent at that, and instead her eyes darted towards marcia’s wrist which was still blank.

“my wrist is still bare, ain’t it?”

“how’d y’know i was looking at it?” cherry’s eyes widened and she sat back a little.

“could just tell,” marcia muttered, “listen, doll. don’t get too... hung up about it... i overreacted last night, it ain’t all that big of a deal.” marcia shifted around in her bed and laid down, as she started to cough, “just know... i... i love you... alright?” she told her in between coughs.

cherry started to panic, but kept it to herself, it wasn’t until marcia stopped responding to the calls of her name did cherry realise. wasn’t until cherry realised marcia was whiter than ever, her breaths stopping and her chest stopped rising did cherry realise.

she died.

marcia died.

marcia, as in cherry’s marcia, died.

she left.

just like the rest.

but no, she didn’t leave. she’s still here, just maybe not physically.

cherry’s chest tightened and her whole body followed, loud sobs was all that came from her as she sobbed over her girlfriend’s dead body.

marcia had died.

and she knew what she meant now by ‘say goodbye tomorrow’, she knew she was going to die.

marcia knew herself she was going to die imminently, but instead of telling anyone or getting help. she decided to spend her last few hours with her, cherry.

cherry didn’t know what to feel, and then it hit her.

marcia died thinking cherry didn’t love her.

thinking no one loved her.

all because of some stupid mark on the wrist.

“it’s stupid! it’s all so stu—” cherry started screaming by now, the tears rushing down her face but then something caught her eye.

cherry

stained right on the love her life’s wrist.

then it all made sense.

the feeling of true love was all too unfamiliar to cherry, and feeling like this when they left you was new to her.

she then realised, because she had been scared to love marcia incase she left her... now that she was gone, she had nothing to lose. she wasn’t scared, she had nothing to be scared of.

“i love you,” cherry confessed. this time, she really did mean it.

but one again, she was too late. no one... no one but herself heard it.

if a tree falls when no one else is around, does it make a sound?

she loved marcia.

but marcia would never know.

and never will know.

all because cherry valance was scared to love.

“when she loved me.”

[thecatboyfriend-moved]

One More Time With Feeling

Summary: Logan gets tired of how the other sides treat him and now he lives off of Crofters.

Warnings: Swearing, slight crying mention, yelling, Virgil and Patton being pushy, Logan angst. Tell me if there’s anything I should add!

Word Count: ~1,880

Note: New AU timeeee!!!! Feel free to send in asks about this because I have a lot of thoughts about this AU.

———

After the events post-wedding, Logan goes back to his room. He had been in the living room with Remus and Virgil, watching the events unfold on the TV while he gave his facts from his laptop. 

Deceit, or Janus as he learned, came in some way through, asking to take over. Logan, frustrated with the others’ lack of interest, agreed, practically throwing his laptop to Janus. He went to get some coffee and calm down but was called back when Janus left. He slammed his mug on the table, typing quickly before shutting the laptop and storming out. 

He hurries into his room, shutting the door behind him. Logan takes a deep breath as tears gather in his eyes. He presses his back against the door and slides down to the floor, curling into a ball.

His own statement swirls through his head. “If the variety of generosity that you subscribe to leaves you feeling depressed or like your life isn’t your own, then you need to reevaluate things.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying his very best to get the thought out of his head. He isn’t depressed. He can't be, he doesn’t have feelings. Right? That’s been his mantra for a bit now.

Despite his best efforts to convince himself, he knows it isn’t true. He used to be so happy. He really was. Then things got more complicated and he was seen as less serious. So he tried to be more professional, he tried to forget it all and just be Logic. 

But it’s not working.

They didn’t take him seriously when he was himself. And they aren’t taking him seriously now. So what’s the point?

What’s the point?

He lets his eyes open at that. Why does he have to be something he’s not when all it’s doing is hurting him?

Well, simple: he doesn’t. If he’s going to be seen as a joke either way, he may as well be able to laugh along.

Logan takes a deep breath, prying himself up off the floor. He stumbles a bit before righting himself and heading towards his dresser. He tears the tie off from around his neck, frowning at it. It was nice, he did like the colors. But it’s not right. It’s not the lighter blue he used to love, it’s not the soft fabric of his favorite comfort clothes he keeps hidden away. It’s not him. 

So, he crumples it up and throws it across the room. He can’t help but let a smile appear on his face at that. Next goes his polo, with its logo he had loved but has grown to hate. He throws that somewhere to the other side of the room. 

He digs in his drawers, throwing out extra polos and ties he despises as he tries to find his comfort clothes. His grin only grows when he finds his light blue sweater buried under his jeans.

He holds it for a moment, admiring the color that should have been his and the soft texture he never gets from his polos. He throws it on quickly. Once it’s on, he hugs himself, laughing a bit. It’s so much better.

He gets his jeans off, finding his sleep shorts and putting those on. It’s so much more comfortable and so much more him. It’s nice. 

With the clothes now on, Logan goes over to his bed, letting himself flop onto it. 

————————————————

He glances over at his desk, covered in schedules and binders and things he’d usually stay up late working on. But instead of dragging himself over to the desk and staying there until midnight—like he usually would—he summons his trivial pursuit book. He settles himself under the covers with the book, falling asleep soon after. 

Logan wakes up to a loud knocking at his door. Groaning, he sits up. He tries to wipe the sleep out of his eyes but finds his glasses still on. He must have slept on his side because the glasses are bent. Sighing, he throws them off and onto the bed. 

“It’s open, you know,” he yells at the door, which is still being knocked on. The knocking stops and the door opens, revealing a confused looking Patton.

“Hey, Lolo!” Patton says, letting himself into the room. He glances around, frowning a bit at the clothes thrown around. “Uh, what happened here?” 

Logan pulls himself out of bed, stretching with a sigh. “Did you actually need something?” 

“Oh, right!” Logan rolls his eyes, heading to his desk. “Well, you weren’t up yet, so I wanted to check on you!” 

“I wasn’t aware I’m not allowed to sleep in,” Logan growls, digging through his desk drawers. He pulls a pair of round, thin-framed glasses out, sliding them on his face. 

“Well, no, you are! You just never really do, so I was worried.” Logan snorts, going to the door and shoving past the taller side. He makes his way down the stairs, Patton following close behind. He can faintly hear the other chastising him, but he just keeps walking.

Logan walks into the kitchen, ignoring the looks Patton is giving him.

“Hey L,” Virgil says from his place at the table. Logan glances over at him before digging in the cabinet. “There’s already coffee made if you want some.” 

Logan’s nose scrunches up at that. The others think he likes black coffee, which is far from true. He only agreed to drink it when Patton handed it to him one morning, apparently thinking he likes it. He’s drunk it ever since, trying his very best to ignore its bitter taste.

He ignores Virgil, pulling a jar of Crofter’s from the cabinet and leaving the door open. He can hear Patton hushedly talking with Virgil as he gets a spoon and retreats to the couch. 

“Uh, Lolo?” Logan looks up from where he sprawled on the couch. Patton’s standing by the arm of the couch with a frown.

“What?” Logan drawls out. He pops the lid off his jar, shoving a spoonful of the jelly into his mouth. 

“Isn’t it too early for jam?” Patton asks, laughing nervously. Logan rolls his eyes.

“It’s good and I like it, so fuck off.” He shoves another spoonful in his mouth, trying not to laugh at the way Patton gasps. 

“Logan Sanders! Do not—,”

“You’re not my dad,” Logan says with a mouthful of jelly. He sits up more on the couch, summoning the remote. He holds the spoon in his mouth as he turns on the TV, still cradling the Crofters.

He can hear Patton huff, walking away. Logan turns on Sherlock, sinking further into the couch and eating more jelly. 

Logan gets through about an episode and a jar and a half of Crofter’s before the couch is stolen from under him.

He stumbles, suddenly standing in Thomas’ living room. He finds Patton, Virgil, and Thomas staring at him. 

“Y’know, you really should give me a warning or something,” Logan says. He finds the jam still in his hands, taking a bite of it. 

“Logan, is something wrong?” Thomas asks, looking over Logan’s appearance warily. He’s still in his light blue sweater and shorts with his round glasses, an obvious difference to his usual attire.

Logan just laughs, waving his spoon accusingly at Thomas. “Y’all are so terrible, really. Like, I change into comfy clothes once and suddenly I’m treated like I’m sick.” 

“No, you changed your clothes,” Patton begins listing. “Threw your other clothes around your room, cursed at me, and you’re living off of Crofters!”

Logan just deadpans at him, shoving another spoon of Crofters in his mouth. “Dunno whatcha mean, Pat.” He leaves his usual spot by the stairs, flopping onto Thomas’ couch. “Thomas, I’m stealing your couch. And your TV.”

He tries to resume his show, but Virgil is suddenly in front of the TV. 

“Okay, enough of...whatever this is,” he growls. “What are you doing Logan?” Logan groans, loud and annoyed. 

“Alright, you wanna know what’s wrong, Virgil?” Logan laughs back. “None of you give a shit!”

The three look surprised by that, quite obviously not knowing what to say. So Logan continues.

“You all act so goddamn ignorant! Like with Virgil!” Said side jumps a bit, narrowing his eyes as if he’s daring Logan to continue. “Oh, don’t act so innocent. You got us to accept you and sympathize with you, but that wasn’t enough! No, you didn’t want sympathy or any of that shit, you just wanted to be able to be a bitch without being called out!”

“Logan, that’s enough,” Patton says, joining Virgil by the TV.

“Oh, what? You want a turn?” 

“Logan—,”

“No Patton,” Logan interrupts. “Because you’re the one that lets him! You act like he’s some pure innocent being that can do no wrong, but he’s not! He threatened me, and you didn’t do shit!”

Logan turns back to Virgil, grinning madly. “Remember that, Virge? That ‘I’m gonna prohibit your breathing’ bullshit? Because you bet your ass I do!”

Now Patton’s looking at Virgil with wide eyes. Virgil looks absolutely caught. 

“Oh no, Pat, you do not get to act all sweet and innocent here,” Logan laughs. “Don’t act like you didn’t hear him! And even if you didn’t, you’ve done shit too! Let’s see.” He stands, stalking his way over to Patton who starts backing up.

“You’ve made fun of me for my mistakes.” Patton bumps into the TV as Logan gets in front of him.

“You try to skip my words so you don’t have to hear what you’ve done wrong.” He jabs a finger at Patton’s chest.

“And you don’t take me seriously.” He hisses out the last sentence, stepping away from Patton. 

“That’s the whole fucking problem here!” He yells, waving his arms as he talks. “You all refuse to take me seriously! You will humor everyone but me!”

Logan takes a breath, running a hand through his hair as he glares at Thomas. “Yes, I have made my own mistakes. I’ve let my temper get the best of me, I’ve been rude, I’ve done things I’m not proud of. But I only do those things when you all refuse to listen and when I’m at my limit.”

“Logan, buddy,” Thomas tries to interject, but Logan holds up a hand to stop him.

“No, Thomas. You aren’t innocent either. Sure, you haven’t done as much as they have, but you will still side with them over me. I still had to try and ignore my feelings and push away what made me happy, all so you would listen to me.”

Logan laughs, turning away from Thomas as he heads back to the couch. “Y’know, it really says a lot about you Thomas; the fact that your own Logic is feeling like this.”

Silence and guilt hang in the air as Logan picks back up his jar of Crofters, turning to the others. 

“I’m done, I really am,” he sighs. “That’s what this is. I’m done putting on an emotionless facade to get you all to listen. Because you didn’t listen and I wasn’t happy. You’ve pushed me to my limit, and I’m done being ignored. You’re going to regret this.”

With that, he sinks out to his room, leaving the others to contemplate just what they’ve done. 

[bound-writings]

could I get pomerate and earl grey tea with mitsuba please?

hI YES BB OF COURSE,, IM SORRY IF THIS ASS AND SORRY FOR THE WAIT LOVE U BTW

Mitsuba - Pomegranate And Earl Grey Tea

pomegranate tea; at what point did they know they loved their s/o?

You sat in front of him in your mathematics class, and he tapped you on your shoulder, beckoning for your attention.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Mitsuba Sousuke, I hope we can be friends as we’ll be sitting in name order for a while.”

You looked the pink haired boy up and down, and hesitantly placed your hand in his. His hands were warm and soft to the touch, no calluses like you’d expect from a boy. And this Mitsuba boy was quite cute too, but something about his personality made you feel like you’ve been deceived somehow. You meekly nodded in acceptance and an almost sickenly sweet smile appeared on the boy’s features.

The bell rang and everyone quickly filed out of the classroom for lunch. You stood on your tippy-toes to try and find a puff of pink hair blending in with the other students. You didn’t have a wide variety of friends yourself, and the boy did intrigue you (plus he was cute) so perhaps he wouldn’t mind if you got to know him better? He did ask if you two could be friends so it was like you were intruding, right?

Hastily grabbing your wrapped bento, you hurried after the boy, following his bright pink look he sported so you wouldn’t get separated. Curiously you trailed behind, trying not to look like a stalker, until you realized you were already at the roof. It was a nice day, the cool breeze gently flowed against your body, making your hair sway. Mitsuba sat down, his back against the wall, as he tinkered with something in his lap. A camera. 

Apparently you’d been staring too long because he noticed you and his shoulders jumped. Ah shit, now you had to explain yourself before you looked like a creep.

“W-why hello there Mitsuba-kun! Nice day we’re having, right!?” you asked, smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothing, trying not to look at him. You could feel his eyes boring into you.

“Anyway, I just wanted to see if we could maybe spend our lunch time together? After all you did say you would like to be friends with me right? See, I even got my bento ready here and everything-” you paused midway, glancing at his face for any reaction. He was biting his lip, as if he was trying to hold himself back from saying something.

“Y’know, Mitsuba-kun, is something bothering you? In class today, your smile didn’t look quite right if you ask me. Almost as if it was forced-” you stopped as you heard a soft voice.

“Hmm? Repeat that, Mitsuba-kun?”

“Shut up, you squeaky voice having ass.”

You froze almost comically, processing what Mitsuba said.

“Have you been breathing in too much helium?! Because your voice certainly is squeakier than a rubber duck!”

You were speechless. Mitsuba rose.

“You stalker! Crazy! Dumbass! Because I’m so cute, you want to befriend me only to threaten to spread fake rumors about me! Just because I’m so adorable, doesn’t mean you can have your way with me!” Mitsuba panted after his outburst, sending a glare to you.

(Your face was like ö)

Your mouth was open and eyes widened. Well, looks like you’ve discovered the real Mitsuba Sousuke!

“Hmpt! And the stalker isn’t gonna say a word-”

You burst out laughing, trying to contain your loud guffaws as you grabbed the sides of your stomach, walking over to the cocky boy. He stepped back, his sleeve covering his mouth as he watched you in disdain and a hint of surprise that you were actually still here.

You slid down the wall and patted the space next to you, as you tried to control your chuckles.

“I didn’t expect that from someone like you, Mitsuba-kun! But I think I like the real you better than the fake one, ya know. Come sit here.”

Mitsuba hesitantly inched towards you, and sat down quite far from you. You pouted, sliding over until you bumped shoulders to him.

“You don’t need to be so cold, Mitsuba-kun! I want to be your friend and get to know you. I’m sure you can get those words through that cute head of yours,” you giggled, fluttering your lashes.

Mitsuba froze. Your face was so close to his. He could see your pretty features, long lashes, plush lips, blushy cheeks. (Not cuter than his of course.)

“G-get away from me, you pervert!”

That is how you got to know Mitsuba. And that is how Mitsuba got to know you, (Name) (Last Name), the seemingly crazy person who became his friend despite knowing his cocky attitude. The person who didn’t make fun of him and rather refuted his insults.

Mitsuba could feel his hopes rise, just a bit. Perhaps… just maybe, this year wouldn’t be lonely after all. For once, he couldn’t wait to see you again.

The next day when you came to school, Mitsuba wasn’t there, and the classroom was filled with whispers.

“Did you hear? The Sousuke boy died in an accident yesterday.”

Your heart stopped, as you froze. How? You had spoken with him only yesterday. How could he just disappear, slip away from your fingers like this? What’s more, you felt as if there was a pit deep in your stomach. You had only known Mitsuba for a day, no, a few hours at best, yet you felt such emptiness.

You would never see Mitsuba again.

Or so you’d thought.

–

A few days later, you were walking to the middle school entrance to change your shoes. You had arrived early like you usually did. Mitsuba was still lingering in your thoughts., as you absentmindedly opened your locker to switch your shoes. You switched your shoe as you let out a huff.

A hand grabbed onto your forearm, and you looked up to see who the hell would touch you like that without permission. The hand was cold as if it was a dead person’s hand.

“Hey…”

You used your other hand to close the locker door shut, as it was blocking this mysterious person’s face. If it wasn’t for the hand holding you up, you would have fallen down when you saw the face.

“Did you forget abou-”

“M-MITSUBA-KUN?!” you exclaimed, and immediately the arm retracted from you. The boy looked up and you could see his hands now covering his ears, and an annoyed look on his face.

“Hmph, scream louder won’t you-” Mitsuba was cut off as you jumped on him, tumbling to the floor as his back his the ground.

“Oi, you pervert! Trying to take advantage of my cute self just because I’m dead, I didn’t know you were so-” he faltered when he felt a warm liquid soaking into his sweater. You gripped the clothing tighter.

“Mitsuba-kun… how can it be you? You’re… dead.”

“…You’re making my clothes wet, (Name).” The normally cocky boy couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice. Your warm body on his cold one made him feel almost human again, your warmth seeping into his.

“Mitsuba-kun, we have to catch up on everything!”

Mitsuba’s heart panged. You still wanted to talk to him even though he was dead. You barely even questioned the fact that you can talk to him even though he’s literally a ghost.

“Y-yea. Maybe try putting on your shoes first idiot.”

After that, you and Mitsuba got quite close after that. Mitsuba was surprised when you still wanted to be his friend even though you’d only knew him for a few hours, and was quite frankly rude to you (he’s rude to everyone though.) Despite his real personality, you didn’t shun him, rather you sought him out. He didn’t voice these thoughts, however, deep down it felt good to have a friend. It felt good to have someone who finally accepted how he really was. Mitsuba still continued with his usual berating, and you took it with a grin and a few quips of your own. His heart began to pound against his chest, and sooner or later he couldn’t bring himself to say anything too hurtful. Why though? He never had a problem saying exactly what he thought before. But deep down he knew why.

He loved you. And he didn’t want to say anything too bitchy because he was afraid. Afraid that you’d leave him for being too mean or something else. Damn these feelings… and damn you for making him feel these things he didn’t want. He would probably try to avoid you just so he could keep his mouth under control.

It’s up to you to do something now if you truly love him. (And if you don’t love this boy, what are you even doing???)

earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

Mitsuba is way too tsundere to ask you out directly. Bringing up the topic of love and romance just ends in him bullying you for not having a partner yet, and if you’d tried to get someone else’s attention he would probably laugh at you. Of course, secretly he’s glad no one has taken you yet because he wants you all for himself. He’s never going to say those words out loud though. If you love Mitsuba, then you are going to have to take matters into your own hands because this boy cannot do fluffy romance to save his life.

If Mitsuba really loves you, then he’s bound to take photos of you! Whether it’s you gazing out the classroom window or your frustrated face as you chew on your pencil to try and figure out some math questions. Or perhaps your cute sleeping face as you rest on his shoulder. He would always take these pictures when you’re not looking. After all, he once told you that he takes pictures of things that are important to him… and well, you’re never going to let him live it down if you caught him taking a photo of you. He could already hear your teasing voice already.

But you really were important to him. Probably the most important person he’s ever met. You are the person he loves after all.

You are the only person Mitsuba would ever let touch his camera (besides Kou but shhh.) That’s just how much he trusts you. Of course, whenever you ask him to let you hold it, he’ll always act annoyed and begrudgingly place it in your hands but he’s actually quite happy you are interested in photography. Photography is an escape for him, and the only way he can express his feelings for you without sounding like a lovesick fool.

He usually leaves his camera in the photography room so the photos (of you) he took can develop. He never tells you where his camera is though because he doesn’t want you to see that he took photos of you. Let’s just say you were wandering the school one day and stumbled upon the Photography Club. Perhaps some of Mitsuba’s belongings were still here! You entered the room, taking a good look around the room when something caught your eye.

Mitsuba’s camera.

You know it so well because Mitsuba is always holding it. Tippy toeing over to it, you peered at it and raised an eyebrow at the pictures scattered around it. Carefully holding them up, you tried to make out what it was. Many were still black as they didn’t develop yet, however, there were a few that had color in them. Squinting, you furrowed your eyebrows at what you saw.

It was you. You were in the photo.

Well, damn. Mitsuba thought you were good enough to take not one, but a ton of photos of. You weren’t sure whether to be happy or scared. But you were sure of one thing.

You were finally going to confess to Mitsuba Sousuke.

It was after school, with just a few students and teachers left in the building. You met Mitsuba on the rooftop like usual, the red and orange colors swirling around in the sky, as the sun began to dip. He was standing there as always, tinkering with his camera. He glanced at you.

“(Name-)”

“MITSUBA-KUN!!!!”

You ran up to him and firmly grabbed his shoulders, looking straight into his pink eyes, as Mitsuba let out a scream.

“You molester! Pervert! Release me immediately!”

“Mitsuba-kun! I like you a lot, okay?! You might be rude and cocky sometimes- well no, most of the time, but I like that part of you! You’re a camera geek, but I think that’s a cute part of you! And even though you can be really mean for no reason, I still love you! I have for a long, long time!”

Your chest heaved as you panted from your outburst. You hang your head, scared to see what Mitsuba’s expression was as you squeezed his shoulders a bit harder.

Mitsuba was a blushing mess. His face was redder than his hair and his words were stuck in his throat. For once, he couldn’t say anything as he just stared at you.

“It’s fine if you don’t feel the same. I just wanted to tell you, Mitsuba-kun,” you said, your shoulders slumping as you didn’t hear a response, tearing your hands away from the boy, beginning to shuffle away.

Mitsuba’s mouth tried to form words as he grabbed the sleeve of your arm.

“Idiot…” Damn it, of course that was the only word he could say!

“Mitsuba-kun, you don’t need to make fun of me for this too-”

“That’s not what I mean!” he huffed. “I’m trying to say that I like you as well… dummy.”

You raised your eyebrows as a delighted grin appeared on your face. Without warning, you launched yourself into Mitsuba’s chest, wrapping your arms around him.

“You do? Oh yes, you do! I love you too, Mitsu-kun!”

“G-get off of me! And don’t call me that!”

A genuine smile formed on his face, reluctantly snaking his arms around your waist as well. He didn’t say it aloud, but he wished this would last forever.

– 

Extra:

“I’m not surprised you fell madly in love with me, I am so cute after all!”

“Hey Mitsuba-kun? Can you tell me what these are?” *shows him the photos of you*

…

“You stalker! No regards for personal space and privacy, huh?! How dare you steal from me?!” *blushes*

It was nice to enjoy these simple times.

TLDR: mitsuba takes some nice ass pics of u, then u infiltrate his camera and find them and he's like ok fine i love u idiot

[fizzingwizard]

Alright, so, Digimon Adventure 2020 Episode 12: Castle in the Sky Laputa!

I mean, I, Guardromon...

... Bicentennialmon?

well, any of the three works :P

Right off the bat, I’ll say this ep gets a ‘meh’ from me, BUT I did love its aesthetic. I’m a big fan of robot stories, especially the Asimov variety. Scrap heap robots are my absolute favs. And I did like the Ghibli vibe going on too. The episode was pretty, and the robot characters were cool... it just wasn’t very fun. At the very least, I was expecting team Taichi/Koushirou/Mimi to be a bit more fun than Yamato/Sora/Jou, but I guess this ain’t 1999 anymore ;)

^The most amusing bit was finding out Koushirou’s laptop can fold like this... which, okay, shouldn’t surprise me, it just looks frigging weird...

me: DO YOU KNOW HOW TO USE A KEYBOARD???

koushirou: hush old lady, your first laptop was grayscale only and had Windows 3.1 installed.

Actual content relevant to the episode below...!

We had a promising start when last week’s episode ended on a cliffhanger... or a cliffdropper, I guess, because Mimi’s not hanging onto anything. She’s fallen down and landed on Palmon. Digimon can sure take a beating.

Palmon reaches to see if she can hoist them back up, but...

... it’s too high! Oh well, no choice but to travel on foot. Good thing Mimi landed on Palmon!

Meanwhile, above, Taichi and Koushirou turn to his computer for help. Unfortunately they have some technical difficulties.

Koushirou: Noooo, not the swirling of doom!! My immortal nemesis...

Even Taichi understands that buffering spells death. He’s a 21st century kid, so he’s a little more savvy about computers than 99 Taichi, whose trusty recourse in these situations was "treat the machine like a Bop-It.”

Mimi discovers they are in a Digimon scrap heap. ;_; Good heavens. Apparently robot Digimon are unlike organic (??) Digimon same as robots are different from humans, so the way they die is not quite the same either.

Mimi feels sorry for these trashed creatures. She’s no cold-hearted corporate goon who looks at these guys and just sees dollars. She notices the heart!

She also just wiped that rusty Guardromon’s helmet with her bare hand...

Mimi: Where’s Sora-san when I need a towel!!

Andromon makes his 2020 debut! And he’s just as much the pawn of evil as ever!

Boxing Cactus Go-go-go!!

Togemon gets her prickly hiney owned, but the Guardromon suddenly reanimates and protects her instead. His big strategy is “drop something heavy on Andromon and run away.” It’s super effective.

Who wants to translate the digicode, because I’m not gonna. Ten bucks says it’s something like “target human child exterminate” yadda yadda

When Koushirou’s computer fails, we must rely on our physical skills. Their big plan is “climb down the bottomless pit after Mimi.” There are a few things wrong with this picture:

1) Even if they know how deep the hole is, IT’S STILL QUITE A FALL. Make one wrong move and you’ll be useless to Mimi T_T And these idiots make plenty of wrong moves.

2) If there were handholds like these, why couldn’t Palmon have just grabbed them with her vines and carried Mimi up? Instead she was like, “Nah, can’t reach the top, let’s walk in a random direction and hope things work out!”

3) The Guardromon is taking Mimi to an elevator. Meaning there is a working elevator, meaning there is a way down that would significantly decrease their chances of DYING on the way. Koushirou’s computer can’t figure that out? Also I was expecting some hijinks there... like, they finally make it down only for Mimi to say “Why didn’t you just take the elevator like I did? Boys are weird.”

In his defense, Koushirou’s method of descent is worlds better than Taichi’s.

Hate to say I told you so...

Guardromon takes Mimi to some suspicious water which she uses to nurse Palmon... with a towel

Guardromon presents Sheeta Mimi with a flower to convey that he likes killing pretty delicate things :) run Mimi

The Laputa vibe... it is vibing.

We cut away to Yamato/Sora/Jou for thirty seconds just to point how much Better they’re doing than Taichi’s group. They’ve even realized how that basket was, who needs to put in all that work when we can all fit comfortably on a log! Sora and Yamato flirt. Jou’s going to be sick.

Taichi and Koushirou encounter some broken Solarmon who are being controlled by Soundbirdmon, so I guess it’s official now that we can’t believe any Digimon is truly evil if Soundbirdmon is around. Koushirou goes to help Mimi while Taichi stays behind to fend off these gears. Uh, is it just me or does this team seem very quick to split up.

I like the way Guardrmon cradles Mimi so all we can see is her shocked expression.

Guardromon tries his tried and true method of shooting down something heavy to crush Andromon...

... but Andromon’s like “hah! Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me!” and knocks it away. Not very effective...

Guardromon’s guarded his last mon... he starts to go... offline I guess...

In sweeps Kabuterimon to the rescue. In 99 Adventure, he’d have something witty to say, or at least a pun. 2020 Kabuterimon mostly likes to make weird noises. I understand why Agumon and Gabumon’s VA’s were calling him a “weirder uncle than ever” at Digifes...

Obligatory Best Boy cap

Hell Approacheth

Wow!!! Taichi finally got knocked off Greymon! He must have forgot to put on his suction cup shoes today!

So this entire episode, I was wondering what was to stop MetalGreymon from happening and stealing the show from Lillymon. I expected “Agumon just evolved recently and doesn’t have the juice to do it again so soon!” or some such. Nothing more than that. But, nah, we don’t even get that... MetalGreymon happens and he just... can’t... beat Andromon? For some reason? I’m going with “Because he’s Andromon.” Afterward, this very heavy structure falls down and MetalGreymon has lift it a la Atlas to keep Taichi from getting squished, so he can’t continue to beat on Andromon.

... Of course, Togemon gets stuck holding this thing up too... so there’s that...

The reason, of course, is so Guardromon can make one last action surge, grabbing Andromon’s leg, which works, randomly. At least for a moment.

Mimi spends most of this episode being Shocked.

Guardromon takes one final, grainy look at Mimi as he prepares for sweet death. The digicode says “Sheeta.” (kidding like I’d bother to translate it lol)

Andromon RUDELY stomps on his head. Like HELLO Andromon can you not see the dude is having a moment here? Show some respect!

Mimi sheds a Single Emo Tear

Which causes “Your sorrow made me evolve!” Lillymon. She immediately flies out to attack Andromon, leaving MetalGreymon alone holding the heavy metal structure, which promptly crushes him and our heroes. Game Over!

just kidding, the structure just vanishes I guess :/ It’s not very clear...

High kick attack!

It’s not very effective...

Lillymon does seem to have an ability that MetalGreymon doesn’t which cinches her victory over Andromon... her rain of petals interfere with his ability to lock on to a target. Too much organic matter everywhere I guess.

Lillymon covers Andromon in plants rendering him immobile...

... *cough*

Poor Mimi’s had a hard day of watching robots die.

Her affinity for marking graves returns as she leaves the flower Guardromon gave her on his corpse(?).

Taichi looks only sadly as Koushirou explains that Andromon and Guardromon were totes besties, until Soundbirdmon started mindcontrolling everyone. Gee that seems like something that could have been an interesting plot point had it been mentioned y’know earlier.

In sum... yeah, this ep just isn’t fun. There’s no friend moments, no getting to know each other, everything takes a backseat to this robot-protect-girl storyline. I really did like Guardromon, but the episode takes itself way too seriously in my opinion.

That aside... I was happy that Mimi’s episode didn’t involve stinky ugly Digimon falling in love and stalking her so she can passionately reject them. I can live without both of those things.

Mimi having the ability to project feelings onto supposedly nonfeeling things is a very Mimi-like character trait for her and one that I really truly love. It’ll definitely come in handy in the digital world where all is never how it seems. On the other hand, though, it’s not like it’s a trait we didn’t have already... it just belonged mainly to Hikari :P So... yeah.

Next week we’re going to get Garudamon, in a way that looks like it will pale compared to our first meeting with Garudamon in 99 Adventure, BUT that’s okay... because we’ve got plenty of time for the Big Important things to happen, both on a plot level and on a character development level. I am a little wtf??? about everyone getting not one but two evolutions within the same adventure - assuming the kids are going to go home at some point and finally put Tokyo out of its misery. I’d expected this show would be more like 02 with the kids jumping in and out, but tbh I’m not gonna be sad if they just stay in the digital world indefinitely. Also, it’s not like Taichi didn’t get both an evolution and a jogress the first time he came to the digital plane, so obviously things are just working differently in this show!

But as it’ll be a Sora episode, I just hope it’s an improvement on the last Sora episode. There’s plenty of potential following the mini tiff between her and Yamato last week, so i hope we see some follow up to that. Maybe a couple Sorato moments. We didn’t get anything for Taishiro this week :( But since it looks like probably next week the groups are still separated, perhaps the week after we’ll get MegaKabuterimon and see more interaction between Taichi and Koushirou then. *shrug* A girl can dream!

Anyway this ep gets 5.5/10 from me!

[monkeymindscream]

1, 2, 11 and 28

Well this got long quickly...

1. How long ago did you discover The Dark Crystal, and how?

I wassssss three or four, I think? So over two decades ago by this point (because yo’ girl here is dusty). It was Easter and my aunt gave me THIS:

Before anyone asks: no, I did not dig this old-as-balls VHS out for the sake of this ask. It was already sitting in my room. 

(Also I want everyone to know that I wonder every single day which skeksis that’s supposed to be on the cover. Is that supposed to be skekSil?? Is that Sil?? Why does he Look Like That???)

I had a very complicated relationship with this movie for most of my childhood, actually? Which - on that note - unnecessary tangential story time!

When me and my little sister ( @shuri-flurry ) were little, our parents used to take us to this video place to rent movies, yeah? And the place they’d take us to would frequently have The Dark Crystal playing on the TVs they had mounted towards the ceiling of the store. “Previewing the merchandise,” or something.

(Upon reflection, though, there was seemingly no reason for them to have had Dark Crystal playing. This would have been in the mid to late 90s, and therefore well after the movie had been released and needing to be advertised. So I’m not sure what the Video Vision employees thought they were doing there).

My little sister and I - despite having already seen the movie at this point and therefore knowing exactly what we were looking at - were royally freaked out. To the degree that for months afterwards we would be coming up with battle strategies in the car whenever we were taken to rent movies. Essentially, put your head down as soon as you walk through the door so you couldn’t see the TVs, and KEEP it down until you’d discerned whether or not Dark Crystal was playing and how much risk you were in of seeing a skeksis (as long as you couldn’t see them move you were safe).

Now, reading all of the above you’d think I didn’t like the move, right? Wrong! I loved the movie, and would watch in on loop. And my favorite part of it was, in fact, a fucking skeksis (which we’ll get to in a sec here). It’s just that for some ungodly reason, I was utterly terrified of the thing that brought me joy.

Figure that one out.

2. If you watched TDC as a child, who were your favorites then, and who are they now? If not, do you think that your child self would have enjoyed it?

My fave back in the day was our most beloved bastard, dear skekSil. For as much as the skeks freaked me out as a kid, I couldn’t resist falling in love with Sil. Mostly because my villain-lovin’ baby-heart felt incredibly bad for him. Not only was he picked on by the other skeksis (from a toddler’s point of view, at least), but when he talked to Jen and Kira, they were mean and ran away!! Even after he saved them from the Garthim!! RUDE you guys, not cool!!

(I knew that he didn’t have Jen and Kira’s best interests at heart when he was talking about “peace,” but I couldn’t quite comprehend it at that age. If that makes any sense at all.)

He’s still up there in my top 5, although now it’s because as an adult I can appreciate just how cutthroat and devious he is, all while doing it so... uniquely. In all of fiction, there’s only ONE Chamberlain. 

He’ll be very aggrieved to know that he’s sharing the spotlight with several others now, though (all still skeks; don’t know if this counts as irony or just me upholding my brand): 

SkekSo has clawed his way up the ranks, which knowing him either involved stalking his way up to the front of the line of potential faves and expecting everyone to just. Move out of the way for him (which, credit, they did), or it involved actual clawing. The emperor that AoR showed us would absolutely rip a bitch’s face off to bolster himself, and damn him, I adore him for it.

I’ve always had a soft-spot for scientists and abused underlings, and when you combine the two you get skekTek. Obviously he’s a fave. Honestly, his character is kind of more what my child-self had initially interpreted Sil to be, but with the addition of snapping under the abuse and violently committing murder (so he continues to check all my boxes!)

Is there a single person in this fandom who DOESN’T have skekGra somewhere on their list of favorite characters? Anyone? Because he’s certainly on mine.

Last but not least (none of these are in any kind of order, honestly), we’ve got skekLi, and Wig it is ENTIRELY your fault for this. I didn’t even need to meet him in canon - I didn’t even need to read the book he’s in (y’know, literally his only canon appearance???) because you swooped the fuck in and made him the most lovable creature in existence. The impudence.

11. Three favorite romantic ships?

Wig, why would you ask me a question you already know the answer to? You’re the reason I ship anything in this fandom, I was a blank slate before you. Have I not gushed enough? Have I left room for doubt in your mind?

Listing these in chronological order of when I got dragged in if anyone’s interested in knowing, here we go:

a. Li/Gra

When we first started talking, Wig sent me a variety of arts, right? Because she’s sweet like that. Among them was this, which I babbled in the tags on (jokingly, this was only supposed to be a JOKE!), and, in response, she sends me this. Then, while I’m floundering, she drops THIS on me. And then followed that up with about, ohhhh, three, four months? Of developing, pure, heart-wrenching ANGST. 

And that’s how I got tricked into shipping Li/Gra.

b. Sil/Ung

This used to be a pairing I didn’t understand the hype for. Like... Yeah, okay, they had the rivalry thing going in the movie for all of five seconds, but apart from that I couldn’t comprehend any interesting ways their characters could bounce off each other. There was no chemistry as far as I could see.

Enter Wig, sliding into my DMs one day, sending me cute art. Then, after softening me up with this initial strike, she casually goes, “have you heard about this scrapped early plot idea in the novel where Zok initiates another trial by stone after Ung won the first one, and uses the reflection in his sword to break the rock leading to Ung being exiled too?” 

And then, when I was weak, finished me off with "AU WHERE THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENS AND THEY HAVE TO BEGRUDGINGLY WORK TOGETHER TO GET BACK INTO THE CASTLE."

One dramatic reimaging of the movie, several instances of character development, and the dramatic culmination of all discussed -later, and I’m sobbing my entire shipping heart out.

And that’s how I got tricked into shipping Sil/Ung.

c. So/Li 

This one I’ll accept partial responsibility for, since I was technically the one to go “hey wait-” over it, but I would have never stumbled on the realization if I’d never talked to Wig, so I’m still holding her accountable.

This all started when Wig reblogged this, and then we got talking about how this angle might affect Li’s relationship with So. Things escalate and then suddenly it hits me: A demanding, violent tyrant, and the ONE(1) asshole who is both not afraid to and routinely gets away with aggressively taking the piss outta him?? That is FANTASTIC. I’m only human for God’s sake how is one person supposed to be able to resist that kind of dynamic-??

And that’s how I- ah shit. I didn’t technically get tricked into this one, I played myself. My pattern is all thrown off.

28. If skekEkt wanted to design something especially for you, what would you ask him to make (formal wear, armor, an accessory etc.)?

Hooooo boy, okay, here’s the thing: I never know how to respond to people wanting to like... GIVE me things. Or DO things for me. And I don’t imagine I’d feel any less awkward when the person wanting to do things for me is a friggin’ skeksis, who aren’t known for their generosity. It’d make me feel like an exception and I don’t know if I could cope with that.

More to the point, I’m literally a cartoon character. Y’wanna know what my daily outfits usually consist of? I take t-shirts, sweatshirts, and sweatpants (or jeans if I’m going out) that are two or three sizes too big, and then I layer. I call it “I’ve rolled out of a dumpster please leave me to my business” -chic. 

None of which meshes with Ekt’s brand of style at all. Nor does Ekt strike me as the type who’d tolerate his creative vision to being restricted in any form, if you catch my drift.

So not only am I awkward and uncomfortable with people doing things for me, but he’d be doing something for me where I wouldn’t know what to do with the finished product.

Just kill me it’d be so much easier.

[ballumsecretvalentine]

A Little Bit of Spice

For @benthighway​! I loved reading your angst and AU’s so I am thrilled to gift you a Restaurant AU! Hope you enjoy and Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

“Hiya. Is Shirley around?”

“Who’s askin’?”

Ben fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m Ben, the new host.”

“Oh, yeah.” The woman’s entire demeanor changed. “Sorry ‘bout that. Sometimes some shady folk come ‘round looking for Shirl. Gotta man the door, y’know?”

Ben smiled with a nod, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

“Well, anyway, I’m Whitney.” She offered her hand and a surprisingly firm handshake. “I run the front of the house here, so we’ll be working together a lot. You got a tour on your interview?”

Ben nodded again, taking off his coat and straightening his tie. When Shirley had told him a uniform would be required, he almost walked out. When he saw one of the waiters in the uniform looking hotter than Hades, he figured he could give it a go.

With Whitney giving him an obvious once over, he knew he fit the bill.

“I’ll show ya the break room. You get a locker an’ all that, then you can meet everyone quick. You’ll be shadowing me tonight. Gotta learn from the best an’ all.”

Ben laughed and followed her to the back. She seemed harmless enough, pretty girl but trying way too hard. He’d make his preferences clear in due time.

After hanging up his coat in a locker and going through the process of punching in and out for a shift, Whitney led the way into the kitchen, a swarm of hustling bodies and loud voices.

No competition for her, though.

“Hey, arseholes!”

The entire kitchen stilled and looked to them. Ben was immediately impressed. She commanded the room like the captain of ship. Only she did it with fake nails and four-inch heels.

“This ‘ere is Ben. New host. Be nice, introduce yourselves and don’t bloody drop anything tonight.” Whitney glared at a skinny, blonde guy who made a face and turned right around, getting back to work.

With that, the action returned, and Ben was practically chasing Whitney as she went back out front.

He was grateful when two hours later the doors opened, and the customers flooded in. He could only take so much talk of napkins and cutlery before he’d wanted to chop off his ear with a salad fork.

Most of the customers were lovely, sopping up his charm like sponges, but there were always those dining who thought they knew better than everyone else.

“This isn’t medium rare. It’s medium.”

Ben smiled even though it hurt his face to do so. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of that for you.”

Practically stomping into the kitchen, teeth clenched tight with curses sliding through, he tossed the plate down in front of the nearest chef and said, “Gordon Ramsey out there says this isn’t medium rare.”

“Oh, alright. Not really Gordon Ramsey though, right? Think I’d piss myself if it was.”

Ben looked up and found himself speechless, a feat he didn’t think possible. The kindest smile and the most gentle set of eyes met his.

He cleared his throat and tried to get a grip. “Nah, mate. Not tonight.”

The other man laughed, prepping another steak. Without looking up from his workstation he asked, “are you the new guy Whit was yelling about?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Ben. Mitchell.”

“Callum Highway. I’d shake your hand but,” he held up a filthy, gloved hand.

Ben laughed and shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ben. Here ya go.” He slid a new steak across the counter. “May Gordon be kind.”

Ben’s heart raced as a blush crossed his cheeks against his will. “We can only hope.”

The rest of the evening went by without a hitch. The customers seemed to enjoy him, and he could tell Whitney was impressed with how quickly he fell into his new role. The few times Ben had to return to the kitchen, he went out of his way to catch a glimpse of Callum.

The man was tall, an immediate yes in Ben’s book, with those bright eyes and that wide smile. His shoulders were broad, and Ben’s thoughts had wandered to the nasty, wondering if that sturdy frame could hold his in those big paws he had.

Everyone seemed to like him, giving him pats on the shoulder and sharing jokes, so it was clear the man really was as nice as he seemed.

Determined to learn more about the cook, Ben said his goodbyes to Whitney and the other front-end staff and collected his stuff from the back. He popped into the kitchen, hoping to catch Callum before he left for the night but, stood at his station, Callum was laughing, with Whitney wiping something off his cheek, head tilted and smile full of flirtation.

Dammit, Ben thought. The radar must be broken.

******

The next night went much the same, Ben working on memorizing some of the menu items as well as the variety of wines the restaurant was trying to push. There was a noticeable lack of miserable customers which was wonderful, of course, except it meant he had no good reason to go into the kitchen. The pull to see Callum, to chat with him again, was something Ben wasn’t used to. It had been years since he’d felt more than just a surface attraction to another bloke.

This felt different.

And Callum was straight.

“Hey, Mitchell!”

Ben spun round at his name to a beaming Whitney. “Excellent job tonight. You’re catching on quick.”

He pulled on his coat and smiled in return. “Thanks. So far so good.”

“Listen, a bunch of us are goin’ for drinks. You interested?”

Ben thought about it, knew he needed to make some new mates here in Walford, but then he caught an eyeful of Callum, waiting patiently by the door, twiddling a hat between his hands. The idea of watching the two of them all over each other all night while the drinks flowed made him queasy.

With a sigh he said, “nah, I’m knackered. Next time though, yeah?”

Whitney nodded. “Suit yourself. Have a good night, then.”

He watched her leave, getting a small wave from Callum before the two of them headed out the door, Callum throwing his arm around Whitney’s shoulders as they left. Bopping his head lightly against his locker, he closed his eyes and groaned. First time attracted to someone again and it’s gotta be at work and with a bloke who don’t fancy men.

You pick ‘em well, Ben.

******

A few weeks later, after a few particularly boring days off, Ben found himself at the local, a nice little place everyone called the Vic. He was propping up the bar, feeling a bit sorry for himself, a damn bit lonely, too, when another pint appeared in front of him.

“I didn’t order another yet, mate.”

“S’alright,” the barkeep smiled. “From that one over there.” He tilted his head to the side and Ben melted where he sat when Callum lifted his glass.

Taking a deep breath, Ben stood with his fresh pint in hand and met Callum at one of the tables.

“Cheers for this.”

Callum shrugged. “No problem. It’s tough bein’ new ‘ere. Everyone already knows each other. Kinda tough to break the ice.”

Ben nodded, taking a sip and licking the foam off his lip. “You sound like you can relate.”

“Yeah, I only moved ‘ere ‘bout a year ago. My brother lives ‘ere and thought I’d like it.”

Ben took another drink, ignoring the heat choking him under his collar. Just being near Callum, listening to his voice and seeing the way his eyes sparkled up close was doing his head in.

“How’d you start cooking?”

Another big smile. “The army. I wasn’t in long, but I cooked quite a bit there; learned a lot.”

Eyebrows raised in surprise, Ben double checked. “Army?”

Callum had pride smeared across his mouth. “Yep. Not as soft as I look, y’know.”

Ben coughed on his drink, Callum giving him a few pats on the back in concern, missing what Ben felt was an obvious inuendo.

The rest of the evening was spent sharing stories and a few more drinks. Turned out they both came from fathers they’d prefer not to see again and mothers who tried their hardest but never seemed to get it right.

When Ben’s vision started getting blurry around the edges, the conversation shifted into talk of relationships. Callum seemed to shrug it off. “I’ve got, like, no experience, mate.”

Ben gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “Aw, c’mon. All them sights you seen in the army, never picked up a date or a shag?”

Callum laughed again, mouth open wide and so pure, Ben stared in awe. If Callum was being honest, which he seemed damn near incapable of being anything but, it just didn’t make sense. Why would no one pick him up? He was bloody gorgeous and sweet, tall and strong, and those hands—

“I can’t just hook up with someone. Not my style.”

Ben couldn’t help but wonder why Callum wasn’t telling him about Whitney. Objectively, even though he certainly wasn’t interested, she was sharp and beautiful, a good catch for any bloke.

“No one catching your eye at work, then?”

Callum’s head snapped with what Ben thought looked a bit like fear on his face. “I dunno what you mean.”

Ben shrugged, taking a drink and trying to steady his hands. He’s usually much smoother than this, easily chatting up any bloke he fancied, not afraid of an honest conversation.

But, fuck, Callum made him nervous.

He cleared his throat and put on his best teasing face. “Mate, everyone’s got a thing for someone they work with. That what it is? One of the waitresses catch your eye?”

He winked dramatically, trying desperately to downplay his nerves. It was like ripping off a plaster, right? Hearing Callum talking about Whitney directly would be better than drawing it out. That way he’d get over this ridiculous crush and move on.

“Nah. Most of them’s married, you know.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ben mumbled, “wouldn’t ‘ave stopped me.”

The look of judgement that was thrown his way made Ben want to disappear into the floor. He didn’t know why he said that, he’d never been with a married man before, and he could actually see Callum losing respect for him by the second.

“Is that your deal, Ben? Mess around with whoever you like? Don’t matter if they’ve got someone waiting at home?”

Scoffing, Ben finished his pint. “Yep. I like ‘em tall, dark and silent, Callum. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

It was definitely the booze brandishing some liquid courage, but Ben was fuming. He made one stupid, off handed comment and that was all it took to be judged once again. And why the hell wouldn’t Callum mention Whitney? What was the big bloody deal? He’d been at the restaurant less than a week and could name a handful of people screwing around. What made them special?

He threw a bunch of cash on the table, not bothering to count it, and headed out into the cold January night. All he’d wanted was a quiet drink. A mate or two. A job. A fresh start.

But then Callum bloody Highway had to muck it all up.

******

When the hangover started fading the next day, Ben seriously debated calling in. He wasn’t a coward; he’d always faced up to his shit in the past. Callum, though, made him feel…vulnerable.

He hated it.

Ultimately, his brain voted in favor of a paycheck so he forced his body up, took the longest, hottest shower he could handle. Feeling close to human again, he got himself dressed and picked a pair of too tight trousers to go with his uniform. He’d be worried about ripping ‘em all night but he’d look damn good doing it.

Feigning confidence and nonchalance, he moved through his shift like a man with no worries, no concerns. But all night he kept an eye on Callum and could have sworn Callum was watching him in return.

As the last of the customers were finishing up, Ben used the quiet to debate his next move. Something was sitting uncomfortably in his gut, churning and tossing with the idea of Callum thinking less of him, especially over some nonsense comment. He could try pretending it never happened, picking up a conversation like they never stopped speaking. Or, and this would be horribly unpleasant, he could just be honest.

I’ve got a crush and it made me word vomit absolute bullshit and I’m sorry.

Shockingly, he decided the truth was the only safe way to go. They’d worked together for a bit now and, if Callum was weird after the confession, they didn’t have to see each other that often anyway. Plus, Ben reasoned, Callum was too nice to be that petty. He pictured the chef now, smiling and shaking his head at Ben’s stupidity, laughing it off.

Decision made, Ben headed into the kitchen, ready to confess.

Regretting it instantly, Ben stood frozen with his hand holding open the swinging door as he watched Callum holding Whitney close to his chest, lips on hers and eyes closed tight.

Feeling lightheaded, he put too much weight on the door, making it bang into the wall behind it. Whitney and Callum jumped apart, both with surprise on their faces. Ben scoffed, confused as to why two people going at it in the wide open would be shocked when someone walked in.

“Ben, it’s not what it looks like, okay?” Whitney wiped the back of her mouth with her perfectly manicured hand and moved away from Callum who looked about a minute away from passing out.

Ben just shook his head and headed to the break room, thoughts of the Albert and a warm body for a distraction running through his head. He stared at Callum, looking small and blushing the color of a rose, when he said, “don’t worry about it. Everyone’s got a thing for someone they work with, right?”

He bit his lip, willing the embarrassment and disappointment away. He threw on his coat and called a cab. There were plenty of fish in the damn sea.

******

As soon as he sat down with a pint, it was like moths to a flame. One after another, blokes of all shapes and sizes came to chat him up. It definitely helped build the ego back up, but he cursed himself as each one did nothing to light that spark.

They were all too short or way too tall. Too arrogant or too quiet. They tried too hard to make him laugh or put on moves that had him grimacing into his drink.

A few hours later, he was well drunk and thinking about his bed. He felt old and ridiculous then, sat in a bar with music blaring and lights flashing, blokes throwing themselves at him left, right and center, but he’s daydreaming about sweatpants and warm blankets and soft pillows.

Oh, and of course the man with the most genuine laugh, and thoughtful eyes, most stunning smile.

Ben rubbed his face, willing images of Callum away with the pressure, and signaled to the bartender for the tab.

“Leaving already?”

He tensed, concerned he’d had so much to drink he was hallucinating that voice in a gay bar.

Even in the dim light, Callum was beautiful.

Ben let out a breath and stared blankly behind the bar, trying and failing to sober up. “What are you doing here?”

He saw Callum’s shoulders rise and fall from the corner of his eye. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Smiling at the bartender, Ben signed for his bill and turned in his seat. “Don’t bullshit me. I’m not gonna say anything about you and Whitney, alright? What you do is your business.”

Callum shook his head but Ben was out of his seat and calling a taxi before he could say anything. Outside, his breath moved in a cloud in front of his face and he buttoned up his coat. He would freeze in this weather but there was no way he could sit next to Callum for another second.

“Hey.”

Ben groaned, frustration overcoming his buzz.

“What, Callum? What?”

“You got it wrong, okay? What you saw today, at work, it-it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Ben made a face. “Yeah, Whitney already said that. I’m sure I just got confused. I mean, that’s how I say goodbye to folks. With my tongue.”

Callum threw his head back with a sound that came out like a growl. “That’s not what I mean! God, Ben, what is your problem?”

“I liked ya!”

Ben’s confession hung in the air, stuck between the two of them. His chest felt tight and his eyes stung, a sensation he refused to allow to win.

He turned, looking up the street and praying to the universe for his cab to suddenly appear. He’d give it just another minute or so before he’d be walking home. Maybe he’d get lucky and the bloody cab would just run him over.

“I-I don’t understand.”

Laughing, Ben met Callum’s eye. “I’m gay, Callum. And I like ya. Sorry I’m not interested in seeing you with other people.”

Huffing, he started to move, feet going numb and hands burning from the cold. Ben turned his collar up and dug his hands deep into his pockets.

He heard feet on the pavement jogging to catch up. “But, the other night. You were talking about—”

“Jesus, Callum!” He spun around so quickly Callum stumbled over his own feet, giving Ben a wide berth. “I just wanted you to keep talking. And we were drinking. And you make me bloody stupid! I’ve never been with a married man before, it just came out. But you shut down, judging me, making me feel—”

“I wasn’t judging!”

Ben scoffed and started walking again.

“Ben, wait!”

“I’ll see ya at work, Callum.” He turned back, walking backwards up the street. “And, no worries. Your secret’s safe with me!”

If he spent that night shivering alone in his bed, holding a pillow tight and feeling completely empty, it was no one’s business.  

******

Ben woke the next day with puffy eyes and a sore throat to discover, in horror, that it was Valentine’s Day. He’d barely slept at all, embarrassment and regret running through his mind all night. He downed a glass of water with a slice of dry toast while planning the phone call to play hooky from work when the bell rang.

On the other side of the door sat the largest stuffed bear Ben had ever seen holding a single red rose. He looked up and down the street, forgetting in his confusion he was in nothing but his underwear, searching for whoever dropped the stupid thing off at the wrong address. When no one was in sight, he groaned and mumbled to himself about inept delivery drivers as he hauled the brown bear into his flat.

With the distraction of the bear, Ben had lost track of time and found it was too late to call out of his shift. He showered quickly and threw on what he hoped were some clean clothes. As he headed out the door, a tag hanging from the bear’s big ear caught his eye; he hadn’t seen it earlier. Flipping it over he read:

Ben,

I hope this is a Valentine’s Day you won’t forget.

Your Secret Admirer

He froze, excitement and nerves churning in his gut. Was this real? Was someone messing with him? Who the hell would take the time to send something like this? And to him, no less.

Yanking the tag off the animal, Ben read it once more before shoving it in his pocket. He’d worry about it all later.

******

The restaurant was absolutely slammed that night, the holiday filling their patrons with romance and generosity. Ben found himself forgetting about the tag in his pocket and focusing on the money filling them instead.

On his break, he popped into his locker and almost got knocked out when something shiny, covered in cellophane fell out. He stared at the offending object, a red, heart shaped box, and looked around the room, starting to get worried he was being pranked.

Carefully, he picked it up and peeled away the wrapper. Inside, were a handful of fancy and, he learned later, delicious chocolate truffles. Inside the cover of the box was a scribbled note.

Ben,

A little pre-dinner snack. Don’t work too hard tonight.

Your Secret Admirer

His heart raced and his cheeks flushed. Pre-dinner snack? Like, a date? Or was it just that this person knew he’d be opening the gift before he ate?

Again, he looked around the space. The bear could have been ignored but now he was definitely getting curious. As he went back onto the floor, he looked at each of his co-workers in a different light. He realized he hadn’t made his preferences known to everyone so there was a good chance he might actually be hurting someone’s feelings tonight and a disaster would ensue.

No one seemed to be looking at him any differently, though. Lee gave him a polite nod and Mick asked if he had any plans for the night of romance. He knew Whitney and Callum were out of the running and annoyed himself briefly with visions of their sexy Valentine’s night. The rest of the kitchen and wait staff were nice but no one stuck out; no one had blatantly flirted.

With a sigh, Ben decided he was just being pranked, give the new guy a hard time kind of thing. No one knew him well enough to like him let alone admirer him. He’d grab his stuff as soon as his shift was over, stop and get a bottle of something nice for himself and then head home. Maybe watch a slasher film or something.

The night finally came to an end, the love in the air eventually becoming too overwhelming for Ben to stomach. He stuck to his plan, making a beeline for his coat and heading out the back door. What greeted him outside stopped him dead in his tracks.

Callum stood in front of him, nervous smile on his face and a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. Exhausted and so disappointed, Ben could only offer a nod. “Have a good night, mate. She’ll love ‘em.”

Before he could walk away, a large hand turned him around and roses were being shoved under his nose. “For you, Ben.”

In slow motion, with a pitiful expression on his face, Ben took hold of the flowers and looked at Callum. “I don’t get it.”

Callum laughed and shook his head. “We have to start over, Ben. I’ve messed this up since day one but it’s Valentine’s, so I figured I’d just go for it.”

With a shake of his head Ben asked, “go for what?”

“You can be so thick. You, ya idiot.”

In his confusion, Ben tried giving the flowers back. “But you’re with Whitney.”

Callum stepped forward, gently pushing the flowers back into Ben’s chest. “You saw me panic, Ben. Whitney and Lee have been dating for months now.”

“Okay, remember when you called me thick?”

With a laugh that sent a shiver through Ben, he explained. “I’ve been thinking that I’m, well, not exactly straight, for a while now but no one was catching my eye enough to test that theory, ya know? Then you walked in the kitchen on your first night and it was like a switch went off. Yep, I’m gay.”

They both laughed and Ben found himself relaxing, allowing himself to hope this was all real. “But that scared me. And then you were so, I dunno, bold? When we had drinks that night, remember? And I just felt unsure. So the next day, Whit was talking to me and being real nice, she’s one of my best friends, and I kissed her like the moron I am. You just ‘appened to walk in before she could give me a slap.”

“You know I got blasted that night at the Vic ‘cause I convinced myself you two were together.”

“What?”

Ben bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah. I figured you two were together and I didn’t stand a chance, so I drank too much and the muck started fallin’ outta my mouth.”

They stood together in the dark alley sharing breath and laughs for a few minutes. Eventually Ben looked at his hands, clenched tightly around the first flowers he’d ever received, and wondered what was next.

“Ben?”

He looked up and met Callum’s beautiful, blue eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I’m gay.”

Ben laughed again. “Okay.”

“And I like ya.”

Wrapping his arms around Callum’s waist, Ben moved in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, still in complete disbelief this was actually happening. With foreheads resting against one another and lips turned up in matching grins, Ben whispered, “I like ya, too.”

With a satisfied sigh, Callum stood tall and offered his hand to Ben. “I thought I’d be crazy and made us reservations at that Italian place around the corner.”

“Whoa, big man. Very bold of ya,” Ben teased with eyebrow raised.

Callum leaned down and kissed Ben once again, gentle and soft and filled with the promise of so much more.

“C’mon, let’s get this date started.”

Ben smiled, pulling Callum in close by the waist and melting into the strong arm thrown over his shoulders, flowers swinging happily by his side.

“Let’s.”

[lilibug--xx]

So. I’ve hit a nice milestone here of 2k followers and thought it time to celebrate! Tis is the season of being thankful and I am certainly thankful for each and every one of you who have chosen to follow little ol’ me ♡

I’ve decided to do some short drabble prompt fills! I’m usually pretty wordy so I’m going to limit myself in order to be able to do all of them that come my way!

Remember: 

you must be following me :P

I’ll write for fandoms/ships listed on this post here

send me an ask with your ship and prompt number

you can send me more than one, just do separate asks but don’t be a mila and send me twelve

& finally, tell me if you’ve been naughty 😈 or nice 😇 this year 

Please reblog this post if you’re going to request something of me!

I’ll list a variety of prompt choices below a cut and strikethrough the ones that have already been taken - please choose one that hasn’t been picked. If I must, I’ll add some back-ups if I really get a lot of requests!

Happy Holidays, y’all!   ❄ ❄ ❄

“Please… Kiss me, even if it’s just this once.” 

“I didn’t know you were the cuddling type.”

“So are you just going to stand there and stare at me all night or are you going to buy me a drink?”

“Why do people always think we’re dating?”

“I’ll make you bleed.” 

“Go to Hell!” “Oh honey, where do you think I came from?”

“I mean witchcraft isn’t some hocus-pocus, toil and trouble, type deal y’know? There’s some serious work involved!”

“So that’s it? It’s over?”

“You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

“My dad mailed me all my old yearbooks, I never noticed that you were in every picture with me.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“I can hear you crying, you know. At night, when you think no one is listening.”

“Light is easy to love. Show me your darkness.”

“Has anyone ever told you you have really nice hands?”

“I’m not buying Ikea furniture again.”

“Why are you naked?”

“I hope you step on a Lego in the dark, you absolute burnt piece of toast.”

“We can’t do that here!”

“Since when have we ever been friends?”

“You can’t come here and only eat the free samples.”

“You wrapped everything I owned in tin foil? Honestly, power-move.” 

“You have a magnificent life ahead of you. Forget about me.”

“My ex is over there. Can you kiss me?”

“We’ve known each other for years and I don’t think we’ve ever had a proper conversation.”

“Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night.”

“There’s only one bed…”

“Just because you have magic doesn’t mean you have to do everything with it. You can still peel carrots like a normal person.”

“You look really familiar, do I know you?” “I think we matched on Tinder a few months back.”

“I don’t deserve to be loved.”

“Do you like it when I touch you like that?”

“We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies.”

“Is that my shirt?”

“Do you want to help me disappoint my mother?”

“Did you just poison me? How rude! I was going to give you cake!”

“First one to make a noise looses.” 

“Keep talking, and I’ll seriously slap the shit out of you.”

“You did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it.”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

“It’s always been you. It will always be you.” 

“Touch me. I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now.” 

“By the way, I might’ve told everyone that you’re my date because I didn’t want to go to this Christmas party alone.”

“You’re lucky I love you, or else I would kill you for spilling hot chocolate all over my favorite sweater.”

“Those aren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind.”

“I kind of got too drunk at this New Year’s party and I need you to pick me up.” 

“Did you rig the Secret Santa just so you would get my name?”

“I swear I didn’t plan this, but… we’re under the mistletoe right now.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use Christmas lights like that…” 

“Fuck it, a new year is about to start, and I can’t go another year hiding this from you—I love you.”

“I didn’t wrap it so you’ll have to close your eyes.”

“Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

[therandomfics]

Three Days: 3

The morning of your father’s funeral couldn’t have been more stereotypical. While the days before had been sunny and clear, that morning you woke up to the sound of rain tapping against the window of your childhood bedroom. 

Sonny was already awake, having showered and dressed, and was downstairs helping keep things coordinated and controlled. You could hear his voice down the stairs through gritted teeth begging your nephews to sit still for just a moment so he could turn on the television and get them something to eat while everyone else was getting ready. 

After a long shower filled with contemplation, you dressed in a sleek black pantsuit and clasped your favorite strand of pearls around your neck. Your hair dried naturally into a frizz of curls which you pinned back but didn’t smooth - the rain wouldn’t allow for any such thing, anyway, and your father had always loved your “crazy hair” as he put it. 

Downstairs, you found Sonny eating drinking coffee and staring out of the kitchen window. Your nephews were indulging in cartoons and your brother and sister in law were in the living room fussing over what tie the nephews should wear. 

“Good morning Prince Charming,” you whispered as you brushed past Sonny, pausing only to press a kiss to the top of his head. “We have to leave in about ten minutes.” 

He grasped onto your wrist as you moved past him and pulled you back towards him, planting you in his lap. “I already made you coffee and there’s toast in the oven.” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed him tenderly several times and then pulled away sighing. “When this is all over, can we go away?” 

“Just say where.” He squeezed you gently and nuzzled his face against your neck. 

“Anywhere but here. You know I was happy to leave here. I don’t like being back too much,” you admitted and wriggled away from him so that you could put something in your stomach before the funeral. 

You shook your head silently to yourself as you sipped your coffee and nibbled at the toast that had been waiting for you, warm in the oven. The dread was settling in - and while you knew the grief would be there for ages to follow, you held steadfast to the idea that something was going to go wrong at the funeral home. 

“We gather here today to celebrate a life of love, laughter, happiness, and dedication....” 

“He was known for his character - he could make you laugh anytime, anywhere. We could surely use something like that here with us today.” 

“I met him when I was just 10, and he was 9....” 

The stories went on for sometime as you sat in the family room, tucked under Sonny’s arm and softly sobbing each time you thought you’d gotten a grasp on your emotions for the moment. 

“The faithful departed will always be in our hearts and minds. I was thankful to meet this kind, gracious man because of his daughter, Y/N, who as you all probably know was my best friend for the longest time...” 

You sat upright and stiffened, your body entirely rigid at the familiar voice sharing a story about your father. It couldn’t be, there was no way. 

“I spent so much time with the family that I felt like I was part of it, and he never let me feel any different. Even after Y/N moved away unexpectedly, I spent so much time at their home. He truly felt like he was my father, too,” he continued. 

You could have sworn that even though you were hidden from view, he was looking directly at you. 

Rising from your seat, you grabbed your clutch and walked out - out of the family room, down the hall, and out of the funeral home. It was still raining and you hurried through puddles and raindrops to get to the safety of the smoker’s cove, finally slowing to a stop once you were under the awning. Sonny hadn’t followed you, probably stuck with one of your nephews begging to play with his phone or to wear his watch, like they loved to do anytime someone “new” was around.

“Look at you.” Puddles splashing caught your attention as you turned to find your former best friend, Connor, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. 

“My father would appreciate you being here,” you replied, attempting to remain casual. 

“He would have appreciated you staying here instead of running away,” he replied smugly, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

You took a step back and folded your arms. “That wasn’t gonna happen and you know it.” 

Connor let out a small laugh and stepped towards you, careful to leave enough space to seem harmless. “You overreacted. You’re good at that, y’know? Overreacting, that is. Never were too good at holding your liquor, but I guess you remember all about that, don’t you?” 

“Look,” you began, holding a hand up to silence him and figuratively stop him from moving foward again. “I’ve come to terms with what happened that night. I know it was fucked up and -” 

“Yeah it was pretty fucked up how you just left after you finally acted on your feelings. You ran away.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him and scowled. “I never acted on anything. Clearly you don’t remember what happened like I remember.” 

From behind, you heard a door slam but the rain had begun to fall harder and silenced anything beyond the seconds of noise you were able to distinguish. 

“You had a few too many drinks and we had sex. You woke up the next morning and freaked out like a child, and I never saw you again. I found out a week later you’d moved.” He rolled his eyes dismissively and reached into his suit pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes, one of which he promptly lit. 

“Did you hear yourself? I was drunk, and when I woke up I had no recollection of the night before. Instead of owning what you did and admitting you were a disgusting predator, you told everyone I confessed my love for you and then I got cold feet. Text message after text message and DM after DM, I was being harassed by those girls you led on for so long, and I can’t tell you how many times I freaked out and got tested for STDs because of you. But you think it was consensual? You think it was okay? Did you never wonder why I left you without saying a word and moved out of the state?!” You were screaming by the time you stopped speaking, shaking and nauseous as your former best friend turned assailant stood before you with little to no remorse. 

“You’re saying I raped you?” he asked, brow arched with a hollow laugh. “You were begging me.” 

“Begging you to stop,” you interjected with a hiss. 

“And then you ran off to New York to become a whore.” 

“Fuck you!” you bellowed, launching yourself forward to strike Connor in the face repeatedly. It didn’t take him long to shove you backwards and onto the cold cement you’d been standing on only moments before. 

You landed with a thud and watched at Connor turned to walk away - but before he knew what happened, Sonny had connected his fist with Connor’s jaw in a manner that left your former best friend lying on the cement near you. 

Quickly, Sonny pulled you to your feet and brushed you off, making sure that you were okay. 

“I’m fine,” you lied, looking down at Connor who’s lip was bleeding as he tried to sit up defiantly. 

“Hey, I wouldn’t be getting up if I were you,” Sonny snapped, looking sternly at the man who was sitting on the ground. “Mass has a fifteen year statute of limitations. I’d do whatever I could not to make it worse right now.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, glaring up at Sonny. 

“Dominick Carisi Jr, Manhattan ADA,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. Sonny pulled you closer and kept a protective hold on you. “And this is my wife, but I think you’ve met.” 

“Fuck,” Connor grumbled under his breath and let his shoulders slump in defeat. “Well go ahead, what are you gonna do? Arrest me?” 

“I’m not a Detective anymore, but I’m sure I can make some calls.” Sonny turned to you and cupped your face in his hand. “Lets get you inside, alright? I need to make some calls and the family is about to leave for the graveside. We just have to get through a few more hours and we’re free, babe, alright?” 

You nodded slowly and glanced at Connor on the ground. If you went back inside, he could leave and never be heard from again. That’s how you had wanted to live your life. But, now Sonny knew what had happened, and Sonny wasn’t going to let it rest until he was brought to justice. Torn between fear and comfort, you tucked your clutch under your arm and dashed back towards the funeral home, slipping back inside to join the family. Sonny had his hands full, but you knew that was his true calling. 

The ride back to New York was quiet. Eerily quiet. Sonny had worked with victims for years and had a particular knack when it came to helping people in times of sorrow and trouble. You wondered, though, if it was different because you were his wife. Maybe it was different because you’d buried your father and experienced an outcry in the same day. Still, there was very little you had to say and feigned sleeping for the first hour of the trip just to give yourself a break. 

“Hey doll...” Sonny whispered, placing his hand on your knee tenderly. “I’m gonna stop to fill up the car. Do you want anything?” 

You shrugged with as much sleepiness as you could fake and shuffled in your seat so that you could sit up. “I’m alright. We’ll be home in a few hours.” 

“I’m taking some time off of work,” he added casually before he got out of the car and locked you in. 

A few minutes later he returned and filled the car up with fuel, then rejoined you inside and started the engine. 

“I got you a water,” he said, handing you a bag that also contained a variety of snacks. “And stuff.” 

A whisper of a laugh left your lips and you sighed. “Are things ok?” 

“What things?” he inquired. 

“Us.” 

“Why wouldn’t they be, Y/N?” he asked, merging back onto the highway and accelerating. 

“I never wanted you to know.” You twisted your wedding ring around your finger absently and fought back the urge to cry, despite how painful it was for you. 

He nodded absently and stayed silent for a long moment, glancing in his mirrors as he tried to find the right words to say. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered and averted your gaze out of your passenger window. 

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. Please don’t think that this changes anything between us. If you feel like you’re damaged goods or you’re broken, you’re not. And I love you, no matter what. I don’t love you any less knowing the troubles you endured and kept to yourself. In fact I love you more because you’re so strong. You turned your pain into prosperity. You let yourself be loved, and you let yourself love, too. That’s something that I think is really hard for anyone who’s been through something like you’ve been through. I’m sorry that he exists and that he did such a criminal thing to you, but I promise you I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure he rots for it. But, Y/N, I swear on everything, I’ll never stop loving you and I’ll never look at you different, and I’ll never be mad at you because you chose to keep something so private and difficult to yourself.” He glanced over at you and frowned when he saw your eyes welling with tears and spilling over. 

“I don’t deserve you,” you choked out through sobs, covering your mouth and finally allowing yourself to cry without barriers. 

Sonny signaled and pulled off onto the emergency shoulder of the highway, putting the hazards on and placing the car in park. He unbuckled his seat belt and practically climbed over the center console to envelope you into his arms, protective and loving as he had been from day one. “You do, and I deserve you. Remember what you said? We’re meant to be together.” 

“Please don’t ever leave me,” you whined, pulling at his shirt to bring yourself closer. “Please.” What he heard, and what you didn’t say were the same - please don’t see me any differently, please don’t make me find your love again, please keep me. 

“I wouldn’t have anyone but you by my side,” he promised and kissed your forehead softly. “We’ve only got a little while left and then we’re home, alright? Let’s order takeout and eat on the balcony, okay? I promise you I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Okay,” you said with a sniffling nod. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to get back to normalcy with you.” 

_______

[kerfufflewatch]

Candy/ pastries or your pain is mine

everyone asked for candy/pastries, and I wrote way too much, and I’m pretending that’s because everyone asked for it and not because I have no self-control

[on AO3]

--

"Kinda surprised you like sweet stuff that much," McCree remarks. 

Hanzo only gives him the barest of glances before returning his attention to the doughnut box on the counter. McCree had found a proper doughnut shop while they were here in the States--one of those local places that was big enough to be noteworthy but small enough to still have product worth talking about--and brought back a solid half-dozen to the safehouse. It was, admittedly, entirely too much sugar even for two grown men, but it'd been a long and frankly boring mission and he thought they deserved something.

After a moment's deliberation, Hanzo liberates the box of its blueberry cake doughnut and sets it on a napkin that is already dusted with crumbs and flakes of glaze. "And why is that?" he asks as he sets to pouring a cup of coffee. 

"Dunno. You're so fit. Figured you were one of those guys who counted every calorie and eats their body weight in protein every day."

Hanzo snorts softly at that. "The fact that I put some thought into my meal composition, unlike some people, does not make me obsessed."

"Mmhm."

Hanzo shoots him a glare that is more amused than annoyed, then returns to his coffee. "You are not too far off, I suppose," he says, slowly pouring milk into his cup until it reaches the precise color he deems acceptable. "When I was younger, I did maintain a much stricter diet--it was considered childish to indulge in something with no health benefits. After, it simply became one of those things that I did not need and did not permit myself."

"And now?"

"Now I have learned that denying myself cake will not restore my honor." His coffee spoon clinks sharply against the countertop.

"Nah. Not unless it was a real good cake." Hanzo laughs a little and, as always, it makes McCree's heart flutter and his mouth incapable of shutting up just in case he can get Hanzo to do it again. "What's your favorite, then?"

Hanzo has to think on that for a moment. Then he answers, "Taiyaki, I think. Although to be fair, I think it is mostly whatever I am in the mood for."

McCree hides his smile in his coffee cup. He really is too far gone to be helped. "Fair enough."

"What about you?"

McCree shrugs. "Never had that much of a sweet tooth, to be honest. I mean, yeah, here and there," he adds, gesturing vaguely at the doughnut box, "but . . . I guess I'd never turn down a slice of apple pie, though."

The corner of Hanzo's mouth lifts in something that might be amusement, though McCree's not sure why. "Really."

"Used to drive my mamá mad. She must've disowned me six or seven times for it, back in the day. Why not her flan, or sopapillas, or something else she had a family recipe for." McCree chuckles at the old memory, his mother sighing and putting her flour-dusted hands on her hips as her son continued to betray their proud Mexican heritage. "But yeah. That's the favorite, I think."

Hanzo laughs softly. "A troublemaker at every turn."

"That's me." McCree brushes past Hanzo to pour himself another cup of coffee. Going by the files Winston sent this morning, it’s looking like it might be a half-pot kind of day. “Gotta say, though, damn hard to find any decent apple pie out where we’re stationed. They got stuff like it around, I guess, but none of it’s quite right. Think the last time I had any was . . .”

He trails off. He’d been about to say it was probably the better part of a year and a half, but come to think of it, it’s probably been about a year. It wasn’t much, but he remembers now: serving himself a cup of burnt diner coffee and a slice of pie from the display case, sitting in a cracked vinyl seat with the best view of the railroad over the gorge, getting one bite in before having to abandon it. He’d barely appreciated it at the time with his attention focused elsewhere, but the taste of tart apple and sweet cinnamon had lingered on his tongue through the hell that followed, mixed with gunpowder and dust.

“McCree?”

McCree blinks out of his reverie. His sugar spoon still hovers over his coffee, teetering and threatening to spill. He hastily dumps the sugar and gives it a stir. “Sorry. Got a little distracted there,” he says, putting on an easy smile. “Was a bit of a rough day last time, is all.”

Hanzo seems unconvinced, but he knows when to let things drop. It’s one of the many things McCree appreciates about him. 

They lapse into a companionable quiet. Hanzo breaks off a small piece of the doughnut and pops it into his mouth. He absentmindedly sucks a crumb off the pad of his thumb, and McCree forgets all about pointing out that he'd actually bought that particular doughnut for himself. 

—

They're both sent back to the States again within the month, but on separate, minor missions. Hanzo goes off with his brother and Angela. McCree tries not to think about how irritable that makes him. 

McCree's sent out on a solo mission for three weeks, investigating a business out in Canada Winston worries might have some Talon ties. It looks and acts like a standard accounting firm, and three weeks of running coffee and organizing files doesn’t give McCree any reason to believe otherwise. The tedium slowly grates on his nerves, and being treated like a witless errand boy does so more quickly, until he’s certain that he has none left carrying him through. 

The whole thing is made worse by having to maintain radio silence the entire three weeks. He wasn't necessarily the sort to enjoy long text conversations or phone calls, but he could always count on a wry response from Angela or Genji if he sent them updates or complaints, and Lena and Mei sometimes just liked to check in. He gets none of this, though, and it leaves him far too much time to think. 

And of course, because his heart's a goddamn fool, he finds himself missing Hanzo the most. 

For a while, as one does once a crush starts to become a little bit desperate, McCree entertains the notion of telling Hanzo in a variety of ways. With how long they've known each other, just asking for a date seems too distant. Grand gestures are something, but anything too grand would just leave Hanzo embarrassed and irritable regardless of how he felt in return. He doesn't know when Hanzo's birthday is and asking Genji would mean any surprise would be ruined. 

At some point, he remembers the conversation with Hanzo during their last mission, and he thinks for far too long about gifting Hanzo with some sort of sweet thing. Cakes and candies were romantic, weren't they? Except something generic would go over about as well as a snowball taking a lovely vacation in Hell, and Hanzo deserves better than some dime-a-dozen chocolates. 

He dithers and sighs and eventually forgets about the whole thing after a week or so, and the conversation shortly thereafter. The whole idea is a fool's errand, anyway--it all assumes that Hanzo would want him at all. 

Just before he can drive himself mad with hypotheticals,  he digs up a handwritten set of budgets in someone's locked office desk that, even coded and vague, implicate the business in some illicit dealings quite nicely. He activates the little automatic drone that helpfully scans and uploads all of the pages straight to  Athena and Winston, neatly replaces everything, and slips out of the city the moment he is given the all-clear. 

By the time he gets back to Gibraltar, the combination of a shitty mission and an equally shitty flight has him too exhausted and irritable. He checks in with Winston, drags himself through the shower, and flops onto his bed. He’s too antsy for sleep, but he can at least use a few minutes with his eyes closed before he has to dodge the rest of the team to find food. 

He only gets a couple of minutes before there is a knock on his door. He sighs up at the ceiling. “Just a sec.”

His irritation all but evaporates when he opens the door to find Hanzo on the other side. He has a paper bag in one arm, wafting the rich scent of food, and a bottle of whiskey in the other. 

"Well damn," McCree says. "Rollin' out a hero's welcome."

Hanzo rolls his eyes, even as he smiles. "Hello to you, as well. I thought you might like to celebrate your success, but if not . . ."

McCree snorts. "Success. Yeah. We'll call it that." 

His tone makes Hanzo's smile immediately drop in a way that makes McCree's stomach do the same.

"Was I mistaken?" Hanzo asks. "The mission brief suggested you were successful, but . . ."

McCree groans, rubbing his hands down his face. “No, you weren't. Sorry, Han," he says wearily. "Was just a long, frustrating sort of job. Bunch of annoying assholes, then me doing a whole lot of nothin’ to prove that they’re assholes. Got me in a bit of a mood, y’know?”

“Oh. I am sorry. Perhaps I should have considered--would you like me to go?”

His expression of mild concern might have fooled anyone else, but McCree knows better nowadays, and he sees the flash of disappointment as it crosses his face. "No, 'course not," he says. "Just warnin' you I might not be the best company."

Hanzo nods, but his brow is still pinched with uncertainty. McCree reaches to take the bag. "Got a couple glasses if you wanna pour us a drink," he says, nodding to the pair he keeps on his desk just for this purpose. 

"I--yes."

McCree pauses as he lifts the first box out of the bag. "Seriously, what's buggin' you?"

"It is nothing."

It's clearly not nothing, but no amount of prying will get Hanzo to talk if he doesn't want to. He unpacks both their meals, but pauses when he finds a third box at the bottom of the bag. This one is smaller and clearly from a different place entirely. 

He looks questioningly at Hanzo, but he is pointedly not watching McCree, pretending to need his entire focus to pour their drinks. McCree opens the box.

What he finds is an apple pie. A full one, untouched, with the slightly uneven look to the crust that comes from something handmade. He looks to Hanzo again, his mouth running dry. 

"Why . . . ?" he starts, and finds himself unable to finish the question.

Hanzo sits on the edge of the bed and shrugs one shoulder, now very interested in the contents of his glass. "We ended up getting dinner the last night of our mission," he says, too casually. "One of their specialties was apparently their pies, and I remembered what you had said before."

Forgetting dinner entirely, McCree grabs one of the forks from the bag and carves out a piece of the pie right from the center. Hanzo mutters "That is barbaric," but is ignored. 

It's good, definitely one of the better apple pies he's had--tart apples and sweet cinnamon, perfectly flaky crust that just about melts on the tongue. But it's the full realization of what Hanzo's done--not only remembering some inane conversation from weeks ago, but going out of his way to bring back a gift--that has him struggling to speak.

"Thank you, Hanzo" McCree says when he finally has his voice again. "This is real nice of you." Hanzo gives him a halfhearted smile. "Is this what's been eatin' at you this whole time?"

Hanzo purses his lips and runs his fingertip around the rim of his glass, which is now conspicuously empty. It is a long moment before he answers. "I had hoped to--to have a rather different conversation, but now I believe it might be better saved for another time, if you are not feeling well. It is no matter."

McCree's heart feels full to bursting. He sets aside the box and sits beside Hanzo on the bed. He knocks his hand lightly against Hanzo's and leaves it there, fingers resting in the valleys of Hanzo's knuckles. "Dunno," he says. "Seems like it might be somethin' worth talking about to me."

Realization dawns on Hanzo's face slowly. When he finally meets McCree's eye again, it's with a shy, sweet smile.

Much later, after confessions and dinner and a few self-conscious laughs are shared, McCree offers to split the rather large piece of pie with Hanzo. It's good, and he ends up eating most of it, but finds it tastes better off Hanzo's lips.

[dolcetters]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; mun & muse - meme.

TAGGED BY: @hyaciiintho​ ( ;-; AAA THANK!!! )

TAGGING (don’t feel obligated to do it!): @forsakenflora , @avadite , @yinseal , @inseparabilum , @reigningsniper , @tsume-awase​ , @canisfuria​ & YOU if you wanna!

FILL OUT & REPOST ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multi-muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

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

MY MUSE IS:   CANON / OC / AU / CANON-DIVERGENT / FANDOMLESS

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES  / NO / IDK (he’s fetishized a lot; thanks, i hate it)

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK (i’d lean more toward no)

Are they underrated?  YES / NO

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO / MAYBE (stares into the abyss)

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO / MAYBE

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL (true neutral, my boy)

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON? ♠ || i have an ongoing joke that “canon is a slab of meat that we slow-roast at 475 degrees and carve for the juicy bits” but at the same time it’s not a joke at all, i’m being perfectly serious. i’m definitely a lot less strict than when i started for writing canon characters way back yonder, but i also DO like to keep within an array of canon boundaries because i’m not writing for an OC in this instance, i’m writing for an established character. ...it also doesn’t help that my character’s handled differently in the 4 types of media he shows up in but. i grew up reading DC comics and writing for beast boy, so i’m kind of used to “multiple takes existing for singular character”. 

that being said, my take on dol is clearly canon divergent (since... he’s alive and my default verse takes place after the nest raid) but it pulls primarily from brotherhood/manga with a couple dashes of 2k3 series (since that’s the only media that gives us a length of time that he was in the labs). but given that i follow along with just about every scrap of information provided in the manga on this clown, i’d say i follow canon fairly strictly... but there ain’t a lot to go off of, so my reins are pretty loose no matter how you look at it. my city now.

SELL YOUR MUSE! AKA TRY TO LIST EVERYTHING, WHICH MAKES YOUR MUSE INTERESTING IN YOUR OPINION TO MAKE THEM SPICY FOR YOUR MUTUALS.   ♠ || (*￣3￣)╭ well, hello, there. aware of dog? yes. this is he: dolcetto mcgrouchyboots, and he is not happy to be here at all. he is traumatized, sassy, wants to throw hands with teenagers, has no sense of self worth, and will absolutely use himself as a meat shield in order to protect any and everyone he cares about. he is spliced with: dog. his favorite weapon: sword. if you listen carefully, you might hear dog-song rising on the east wind as he approaches (don’t tell him axel taped a cassette player to his back). he comes from a found family of complete and utter morons with a lot of damage, they live in a partially underground bar, work as information brokers, and are all DEFINITELY fully functioning adult people. they say gay and trans rights. if you like angry boys with a sense of humor semi-on-par with griffin mcelroy, this is the boy for YOU!!! 

NOW THE OPPOSITE, LIST EVERYTHING WHY YOUR MUSE COULD NOT BE SO INTERESTING (EVEN IF YOU MAY NOT AGREE, WHAT DOES THE FANDOM PERHAPS THINK?).   ♠ ||  he’s only featured in a handful of episodes/chapters across all media, doesn’t have a significant amount of dialogue, and we only ever see him lose to the protagonist(s) despite that he seems more than capable of fighting anyone else. easy to brush off as a “aw he died and that’s sad but we didn’t really know him, moving on”. from what i’ve seen in my years, people are more interested in him being a cog in the machine of “greed is sad” and less interested in... HIM. which is fair, i guess, but hhhhhh

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?   ♠ || i don’t know if i can pin-point any ONE thing, but i’ve always been drawn to characters with some sort of connection or bond with animals (example, once again, being beast boy from teen titans). i also have an IMMENSE weakness for the found-family dynamic. so when the devil’s nest appeared during my first watch through of brotherhood, i was pretty much... hooked. immediately. and devastated. immediately. as for what drew me to writing dol, specifically... probably his loyalty, his drive, the fact that he WOULDN’T FUCKING STAY DOWN no matter how many times someone knocked him flat on his face. i vibe with that. grew up very much in the mentality of “fall down 7 times, get up 8″. also, he had a sword... which always beats guns on coolness factor. and i loved his fire. ...and that he was a complete fucking idiot who’s really bad at kidnapping i mean HOLY SHIT THAT’S HOW YOU TRIED TO GET HIM TO COME WITH YOU, DOLCETTO, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING--

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING? ♠ ||  dol has always been a great source of ...venting for me? <xD ever since i started writing him, i’ve always found his muse--specifically--to be extremely cathartic and comforting. i dunno if it’s because he lets the more... jaded side of me come out, even when we’re both trying to be optimistic? 

because i’ve been in 2 emotionally abusive friendships. i definitely have some left over hurt, pent up anger that hasn’t been given closure, a hell of a lot of underlying bitterness that i never got the opportunity to confront those people, BUT i still try to be. y’know. welcoming, friendly, supportive, despite a voice in the back of my head being paranoid?? i think dol continues to give me outlets to expressing that. somehow. not that i use him as an excuse to do it, more so i have more opportunities to do it when i’m writing him as opposed to writing someone like beast boy, who’s usually more on board with keeping the peace than picking a fight. i’ve also invested SO MUCH TIME and ENERGY into his background and headcanons and things that i kind of can’t quit him now, nor do i want to.

... and aside from that i just want him to have a happy ending god, fucking damnit. 

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO ( or i certainly hope so )

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES  / NO

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO ( definitely have moments but eh! ) 

Are you a sensitive person?  YES  / NO ( kind of... varies. i’d say i’m more hyper aware)

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?   ♠ || i definitely like to think i do when it comes to pre-established things in canon. but when it comes to what i’ve built on my own over my years of writing for dol (and the nest members as a whole), it’s kind of my sandbox and i’d appreciate you not stomp around in it. 

unless i need to be learned a thing, like... one of the nest members, vi, is a trans-woman. i’m a cis-woman and i try to do as much research as i can and educate myself, but if i ever fuck something up please tell me, i’m doing my best but i’m more than willing to listen. i want to grow.

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?   ♠ || pretty sure everyone does! >xD but yeah! i FUCKING love it. especially since i’m writing for a minor character. =//o//= it shows people are interested in him despite his overall lack of content.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?   ♠ || i’d definitely be curious as to why but i doubt i’d be offended or take ... any personal harm from it--y’know? it’d be more of a “let me hear your perspective and maybe it’ll expand my own understanding, or i might not agree after the explanation and that’s cool”! 

an exception would be for an obviously shitty one that’s shitty for no reason, like... acTUALlY, he’s TOtaLLY hom///o///pho//bic, to which i’d be like “bitch, no, get away from me; no one in this bar is straight, die mad”.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?   ♠ || again, it’s cool! there’s not a lot of canon material so you can take his portrayal a variety of places. if we don’t jive, it’s pretty whatever. 

my one exception to this is probably people who, in the past, have told me i write him being “too mean”. which will never cease to confuse me. because even after al straight told dolcetto he was 14, dol was still like “I REALLY WANNA SMACK HIM but i’d just hurt my hand so you’re off the hook”, he’s angry like 85% of his dialogue in the manga... i’m just confused. where are you seeing the “uwu pupper~” persona. you can write it, that’s fine, i don’t care, just don’t get irritable when i don’t write him like a cute puppy. because here he is. suggesting we just kill izumi because she’s being troublesome. yeet. ...he’s an asshole.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?   ♠ || whatever, just don’t be a dick or speak badly about me or him in my presence because, flawed as he is and while i won’t make excuses for him, i’ll stand up for him. go somewhere else, my dude. i, personally, don’t have the energy for your negativity. nor do i have the patience.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?   ♠ ||  i’m more okay with people correcting my spelling (gently). because of the way i taught myself to read, i’d be FUCKED if auto-correct or spell-check didn’t exist. i also google correct spellings constantly. so spelling, yeah, i already know that i’m terrible at it so feel free to correct type-os or spelling mishaps, it ain’t no thang. 

grammar i’m a bit... pickier about. because sometimes i’ll purposely do a “grammatical error” because the punctuation or otherwise further drives the pacing or mood i’m trying to give my writing. i may not know ALL the rules but i break them from time to time... FOR THE ART.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?   ♠ || i wanna say i am?? while i definitely do want to seriously explore and flesh out and grow dol as a muse and character, i’m “not above” goofing around, poking fun at him, or just being plain silly on the dash. RPing is escapism for me and i strive to keep my blog a peaceful safe haven on the dashboard, both for myself and my followers. 

i try to communicate to the best of my ability and despite my anxieties, and while i may not be able to follow or RP with EVERYONE (for obvious reasons) i’m open to interacting with ... pretty much anyone who throws me a bone. i’ll speak up if i’m not down for a plot or interested in a certain relationship or interaction, but i’m certainly not going to be rude or dismissive about it. i know what that feels like. i’d say yeah, though! i think i’m pretty chill. e-e you tell me.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-One: Boiling Water ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Another day...another away basketball game. Which means a pretty empty classroom for the Home Ec group.

And Sasuke still has a lot on his mind regarding the class.

It’s true that he’s really enjoyed this semester. He had his doubts in the beginning. It has a bit of a reputation for being...well, girly. Of course, now he knows better. Sewing, cooking, cleaning...it’s not a girl thing, it’s a person thing.

While most of his classmates are underclassmen girls, they’ve subtly - in their own way - help impress just such a fact upon him. Doesn’t matter what you are. Got a hole in your shirt? You can fix it, just gotta know how. Need to make a dessert for a friend’s potluck? You can make one, just gotta know how! And literally everyone needs to know how to clean. Otherwise...you’re just gross.

In short, he went from one of those senior guys to a better equipped soon-to-be-adult. And also from someone rather intimidating in the class to the girls’ favorite person to fill in on gossip and ask opinions for. From scary upperclassman to adopted older brother of the class, really.

Well...for everyone except one person.

Hinata’s been...different. Mostly because she’s a senior, like he is. But also because she’s pretty much teacher number two. A copilot for the class, but especially for Sasuke. She helped him catch up in a variety of the class’s aspects, but especially cooking. Which his mother has been ecstatic about.

And over time, it’s become less about him learning from her, and more just...hanging out with her. They use free days to just...sit and cook things and talk. He hasn’t ever really had a friend like her before. Mostly he’s only ever just been commandeered into friendships like that with Naruto, or Shikamaru, or any of the other guys in their year. Any girls he’s met have generally been obnoxious and only wanted one thing from him.

...ironic then that the one he’s been able to tolerate and actually befriend...he’s been trying very hard not to feel more than that for.

He didn’t even mean for it to happen! It just...did! She’s so kind, and soft-spoken, and sweet...and she’s never treated him like the other girls have treated him. Like some kind of prey to be stalked and hunted down. It drives him up the wall...no, Hinata just treats him like anyone else. Like a friend.

And...and that’s what he wants.

...ugh.

It just so happens, too, that this entire conundrum is coming up as the semester is about to end. Technically Sasuke only needs one semester of this class to meet his requirements for graduation. And at the beginning of the year, he had assumed he’d be thankful once it was over. But now...he’s not so sure. And not just because of Hinata. He genuinely enjoys the class, and wants to stay.

There’s just one problem: his dad has been hounding him about taking as many “attractive” classes to colleges as he can. And needless to say that a Home Ec course doesn’t really do much for him in that regard.

Which leaves Sasuke in a bit of a bind. Does he ignore his father’s very obvious hinting and risk making him mad? Or does he abandon one of his favorite classes to please him (and whatever university ends up accepting him), making himself all the more miserable?

It’s been bugging him for a few weeks now...and he really isn’t sure what to do.

So...he decides to ask the one person he thinks he should.

“Another quiet day,” Hinata muses, letting her bag rest near the table she always sits at. “Well...want to cook something?”

Sasuke doesn’t reply at first, and her head tilts curiously.

“...Sasuke?”

“Could we maybe do something...else first?”

“Um...sure! What...what were you thinking?”

“I’d like some advice.”

Pale eyes blink in surprise. “...okay! Um...would you like some tea for while we...talk?”

“...yeah, that’d be nice.”

Nodding, Hinata fetches one of the Home Ec room’s kettles, filling it with water and letting it sit on the stovetop. “Is...everything okay?”

“Y’know how I mentioned changing classes the other day?”

“Oh...yeah. Still haven’t m-made a decision yet?”

His head shakes.

“Well, I...I don’t know if I’m really the person to ask, Sasuke.”

“I already asked my mom. She said I should stay.”

“...I take it you, um...you haven’t asked your dad?”

“No. I already know what he’d say. And...I didn’t want to risk bringing it up and having him make up my mind for me, y’know?”

“Yeah...I get that.” Going quiet for a moment, she seems to mull that over. “...what do you want to do?”

“...I want to stay.”

“...but?”

“But...I don’t want my dad to get angry. I don’t want to risk screwing up my college apps.”

“Will half a credit really make or break you…?”

“No. I don’t think so? I don’t know!”

Holding up a hand for a pause, Hinata lets the kettle build to a steady whistle before pouring two mugs of tea. “...here.”

“...thanks.”

“Let’s sit.”

Sasuke follows, holding his cup and not yet drinking. It’s almost more soothing just to hold it.

“...before, when we talked...you said you liked this class, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And that you...you already know your major, and...what kind of job you want?”

“I guess. It’s not really that I...want it? More just I guess it’s what I’ll do.”

Hinata’s eyes lower to the table, clearly thinking. “...do you...enjoy the things we do in class? Like...would you consider them hobbies, now?”

“...some of it? Cooking, yeah. I was kinda meh about it before, but...now I really like it. The rest is just useful.”

“...then I would stay, if I were you. Your dad can’t throw much of a fit about half a credit, right…?”

Sasuke sighs, a hand running back through his hair. “...I guess not. I just…” There’s a beat of hesitation. “...my dad’s pretty strict with my brother and I. Itachi’s already getting his undergrad in business this year, and he’s going on for a master’s. I don’t even think he wants to, he just feels like he has to because Dad pushed him into it. And then he started doing the same to me when Itachi started college.”

Hinata’s expression sobers. “...I know how that goes. My father and I, we...we had a big f-falling out when I was younger about what I wanted to do. When I told him I was going to take a year off...he told me he was cutting all support once I graduate.”

“What?!”

A nod. “He doesn’t think it’s proper. So I’ll be on my own. But I don’t have a plan...nothing’s ever felt that c-clear to me. I wanted the year to take and just...discover myself. See if...there was something I wanted to pursue.”

Sasuke’s brows furrow with a frown. “...I still say you do culinary stuff. You’re so good at it, Hinata! And you clearly enjoy it! Screw your dad and his snotty standards. Take a year, explore, and then go to culinary school. Look...I know there’s a pretty good program with the local community college. I bet you’d do great, and it wouldn’t be very expensive. Hell, I’d help you if I could.”

At that, her face slackens in surprise. “You...you really…?”

“You’re like...the nicest person I know. If your dad’s gonna treat you like that, it’s his loss, not yours. It’s your life, ‘nata. Do what you want with it.” Sasuke takes a gulp of tea in a spike of temper, feeling it burn down his throat. “...and if you open that baker you talked about? I’ll come work for you - do your books and stuff. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing otherwise. I’d do it.”

“But...w-why…?”

“Cuz you’re my friend. And I want to support you. Look...I know it’s only been a semester, but...you’re one of my best friends. Maybe even my best friend. So what kinda friend would I be back if I didn’t do that much, huh?”

To his own surprise, her jaw trembles, tears beading along her lids. “No one’s...n-no one’s ever...told me that before. Just...said I should do it.”

“Then you need to find better people to be around,” he mutters stubbornly.

“...thank you, Sasuke. Heh…” She dashes at her eyes with a sheepish smile. “...this was supposed to be advice for you...not me.”

“Hey, it’s a two-way street. I’ll stick to the class. That much we pretty much already knew anyway, right?”

“...right.”

Sasuke’s eyes flicker between her own, which stare a bit somberly at the table. “...it’ll be fine, Hinata. Besides, we’ve got a whole semester before we graduate. You can make some plans between now and then. Just...forget your dad and his attitude. It’s all gonna work out.”

“...I hope so.” Finally looking up, she gives him a rosy-cheeked smile. “...I’m glad you’re staying. It...it means a lot to me to have you to talk to, and just...y’know...hang out with. Is...is that lame?”

“...nah, it’s not lame at all.”

                                                           .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to days 98, 108, 139, 227, 284, and 301!)       Heyyy, guys - sorry for the unexpected two day break. But uh...I'll talk more about that below for anyone wondering. For now, about the drabble!      We're back in the Home Ec verse! I love this one, for a couple of reasons. Mostly cuz it's just so domestic and slice-of-lifey, y'know? It's relaxing, even when writing more stressful parts for them like this one. I dunno. It's just nice xD Not really a full 'story' per se since not much really...HAPPENS. But it's one of my favorite series.      Anyway, a lil behind-the-scenes for a second, which comes first with a little warning: the rest of the year is going to be VERY busy for me due to some irl changes happening this month. The next two weeks especially, but it'll probably drag on until at least the new year...I dunno. But in short, I've been missing so many days the last few weeks because life is REALLY stressful, and I've just been too tired. Add in that I have a chronic illness to deal with, and just...yeah. I get behind and have to take breaks.      And honestly I'm getting very burnt out by a whole year of writing an average of 1500 words A DAY. For reference's sake, this challenge JUST past 500,000 words. And I also did SHM, which was another 30,000, and ANOTHER ship month which was 75,000. That's over 600,000, and that's not counting other side projects I've done. So yes, I write other things too, but that makes this challenge all the more...well, challenging. For reference, today's prompt was for November 27. That's how far behind I've gotten. But there's just...really not much I can do about it, sadly. I don't have time to make them up, and likely will just have to drag the event out past December 31. Then on top of that there's organizing all the mini series for AO3, and just...yeah. I'm gonna need a LONG break once that's done before I even THINK of taking on all the projects I want to that will stem from this challenge.      SO, in short...just please be patient with me ;w; I'm doing my best, and in the end - as much as I love this - it IS just fanfiction. Real life has to come first. So I hope you'll bear with me for the last few weeks, and then the much-needed hiatus once it's over to recup before hopefully turn some of these into proper fics. We'll see how life goes.      But, that's enough rambling out of me! I just thought I'd elaborate a bit in case anyone was curious. I'm all right, just...very busy and stressed ^^; So I'll just have to take this challenge as I can. But thanks to everyone sticking with it. I appreciate it! On that note, though...I better go. Thanks for reading!