#i promise the story is still good

[bonny-kookoo]

Normal couples:

A: "Hey babe, I love your dress today."

B: "aww thank you 😊"

Hatred couple:

MC: "you know, I love how easy I can tell whenever you're truly happy."

JK: "How?"

MC: "Because your laughter sounds like you genuinely belong institutionalized."

JK: "How about I fuck you stupid again so you shut that bratty mouth of yours?"

[theribbajack]

"Now, the vow will be honoured, and my Lord brother's soul will return."

Radahn stans keep winning, but I personally am in Miyazaki's walls rn

[chateautae]

hi <3

my lovelies are you still here? i'm thinking of dropping something 🥺

[katieaki]

My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! Here is a guide to get you started, the summaries of each part of the story thus far, the complete collected text, and FAQ, all in one place. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! There is also a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here!

✨Read the update for free on my patreon & vote on what happens next! ✨Excerpt below the cut.

What did she even like about Artie? Nothing. She didn’t. So she’d had a few thoughts– when she was hurt, drugged, tired, scared, and convinced that she was going to die– that she liked and trusted Artie, but those hadn’t been her real feelings. She’d been glad that Artie was strong and competent because that’s what was needed for the occasion. She needed someone to haul heavy shit and read the map– it didn’t mean she had to suck her off about it. In fact, she’d only been put into the position of needing Artie by Artie herself. There was no need for her to even feel grateful. She’d been appreciative of her taking care of her and had felt desperate for her to keep taking care of her, but since when did Lou want to be taken care of? That hadn’t really been her thinking, that had been the drugs, the fear, and the concussion. Lou had gone her whole life taking care of herself. Why would she start wanting anything else all of the sudden? After almost thirty years of being her own and only caretaker, why would she suddenly find herself wanting someone else to do it for her? It was ridiculous to even consider. And Artie, of all people? The two of them couldn’t have been any more different. There was no way Artie could know what Lou wanted or needed. Artie wasn’t even stable enough to be her own caretaker, let alone Lou’s. She was a mess and a brute, not at all what Lou needed. Lou needed somebody who was sweet and warm, someone who was calm and elegant and beautiful. That was what she needed.

[retrospectii]

man ill really just make anything huh

[horsechestnut]

My Bat Academy AU is fun because it's like:

Dick is Luther because he's the leader. Cass is Luther because she was the one caught in the explosion. Damian is Luther because he's the one to who was sent away on an "important mission".

Damian is Diego because he's the one who's still acting as a superhero. Jason is Diego because he's the maddest at Bruce. Dick is Diego because he's got connections to the police force.

Duke is Allison because he's the one not using his powers. Tim is Allison because he's the one who messed with Steph's memories. Cass is Allison because she's the one holding the gun at the end.

Jason is Klaus because he's the one who gets captured. Tim is Klaus because he's our connection to Jason. Cass is Klaus because she's the one struggling with her powers. Damian is Klaus because he's the one everyone brushes off.

Tim is Five because he's the one who went missing. Duke is Five because he's doing the eyeball plot line. Dick is Five because he's the one convinced the world is going to end. Damian is Five because he's the one with a connection to the commission.

Jason is Ben because he's the one who died. Dick is Ben because he's the one with a "Jennifer Incident". Tim is Ben because he was the least interested in being a superhero.

...and Stephanie is Viktor.

(pt 1, pt 2)

[carpetbug]

ML Feline Blue AU Chapter Two: The Pont des Arts

1 • 2 [tw: blood and slightly gory imagery] • 3

ao3

The last time Marinette had felt such paralyzing anxiety as she traveled towards the Pont de Arts was middle school. It was the day she realized she had a crush on Kim, and Socqueline - her best friend at the time, who left Francois’s Dupont at the end of 8th grade - had almost immediately shut down the immature day dream that was their future together. Still, Marinette had made her way to the bridge after school to stare at the locks of all the couples that had been here before her and conjure up sickeningly sweet fake scenarios of her new heartthrob. The craziest thing she had done that day was silently wish that Kim would magically reciprocate her romantic feelings, and still it had felt like she was walking some invisible tightrope, putting her life on the line for some spectacular balancing act she knew she could never pull off. She can still remember the way her hands shook and stomach churned while she perused the locks that decorated the bridge's walls. The fear she felt that day, that heavy stone of discomfort that lodged itself in her stomach, she felt it now all the same. Only this time, instead of feeling like she was merely risking her life, she could have sworn she was marching straight to death's door. And the miniature ladybug creature, this ‘kwami’, was doing little to put her unease to bed.

“You’re not listening, are you Marinette?” the alien-like red bug questioned delicately with a slight inflection to her already syrupy voice. Her eyes softened with guilt when Marinette met her expression with a lost look, lips parted slightly as she struggled to respond.

“I-I’m sorry.. uh.. Tek…?”

“Tikki” the small bug smiled patiently.

“Right. Tikki. I’m sorry Tikki” Marinette sighed and adjusted her hold on the miracle box. What a guardian she would be, she couldn’t even remember this kwamis name. How was she supposed to do.. well, everything else?

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“I died. That old man pushed me into the seine and I died.” Marinette stammered in disbelief as her limbs pushed her away from these freaks of nature without waiting for her brain's command.

“Don’t be scared, Marinette! We’re your friends!” The ladybug themed creature said reassuringly, dropping the intense tone with which she was speaking seconds prior. She, along with all the other small beings, floated effortlessly in the air. “I am Tikki, the kwami of creation. We aren’t going to hurt you, Master”

“Master?” Marinettes throat went bone dry as the words rattled her brain. She was their master? “Oh my god I’ve actually lost my mind.” She chuckled under her breath. The chuckle morphed to a steady laughter, and soon enough she was doubled over in hysterics, hands clutching her sides so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her ribcage. “That OLD man PUSHED me into the SEINE and I DIED!” She shouted in a side-splitting roar of laughter.

“Good job Sugarcube, now she’s having a breakdown.” Marinette heard a much more sour voice taunt. Suddenly what seemed like a million more voices chirped in, each unique in its pitch and pronunciation, and each more desperate to be heard than the last. She could only hear broken sentences and words through the plethora of noise from the kwamis and her own uncontrollable laughter, an occasional ‘We’re doomed!’ and ‘Master Fu!’ catching her ear.

“Just hush, Plagg!” the ladybug scoffed in annoyance. She darted closer to Marinette, small fin-like arm extending to pat her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Tune them out Marinette, you simply need time. Your bravery will surface soon.” She tried to soothe the frantic girl before returning her attention to the other beings. “Everyone, please listen! We can’t do this now, not to her.” Tikki spoke sternly, yet the words hung in the air like a plea. “I.. I’m certain none of us are ready to speak about Master Fu," a dejected tone began to cling to her small voice as she continued “But he wants us to go forward. And he needs us to guide the new guardian”. Marinette looked up as her voice began to catch in her throat, a pang of pity shooting through her unstable heart at the sight of the tears beginning to pool in the small beings eyes.

“Master Fu?” Marinette repeated softly, peeling her hands off her body and standing up from the rough cement platform that offered her safety. With a powerful shudder she became painfully aware that she was still soaked from the seine. Her hands traveled up to her hair, removing the smooth ribbon that held together her right pigtail - the left had come undone in the water. “Is that... was that the old man?” She asked the kwamis with a weary tone, eyes trained on her soggy shoes as her hands wrung out her dark hair of the water still wearing it down. “Why did he-?”

“Throw you in a river?” the sour voice chimed in again. It belonged to the black cat, who was now floating leisurely on his back with a yawn. Marinette was almost certain she could see sharp teeth in the kwamis mouth. Tikki shot him a deathly glare, but he went on. “I’m Plagg, kwami of destruction, lover of cheese” He stated with casual disinterest, as if nothing traumatic had just occurred. “Not his smartest move, I’ll agree. But-” he sat upright and narrowed his eyes, voice taking a more serious tone “-he did what he had to do to keep us all safe.” his long tail flicked, motioning to the other kwamis. “That includes you.”

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“I was telling you about the kwamis, '' Tikki chirped, following by her guardian's side while levitating in the air. Marinette nodded, quickly glancing up to check what street they had reached, then darting her eyes back down to the wooden box she had hugged to her chest. It was getting harder and harder to focus on the bugs' words, her mind occupied only with thoughts of Master Fu. Despite the kwamis, and the freezing water that seems to have seeped into her bones, and the distressed voices in her head yelling at her that she was alone in this, Marinette couldn’t shake the idea that this man was still alive. He would be waiting at the Pont de Arts, ready to retrieve his miracle box and kwamis, and he'd reassure her that she would never have to worry about any of this miraculous nonsense ever again. Marinette wasn’t going to find his body. She wouldn’t.

“There's nineteen kwamis in all, but two of us are missing. Nooro and Duusu are the kwamis of transmi-”

“Tikki, I’m- I can’t-” Marinette bit her tongue as she fought to find the right words.

“What is it Marinette?”

“I’m sorry but I just can’t talk about this with you. It’s just… too much” Marinette mumbled, wishing the earth would open up beneath her and swallow her whole. “Can’t this Master Fu just explain things to me when we find him?”

Tikki blinked in surprise and remained silent for a few seconds. Then, she nodded and feigned a weak smile. “Of course Marinette. If we find Master Fu he will explain everything” she reassured.

Marinette nodded absentmindedly, taking another brief glimpse at the street signs and sighing in relief at seeing they were close to their destination. Suddenly this all felt like some sort of fever dream, like she would go home and sleep tonight then wake up in the morning with nothing changed. Except maybe she would always think about being thrown in the seine, the cold and brutal water that had seeped through her skin, leaving her fingertips wrinkled and pruny against the wood of the miracle box. And sure, it might feel real enough that her knees still wobble a bit as she walks, but everyone has horrible nightmares sometimes - right?

“Marinette”

“One second, Tikki” she stopped the kwami, still stuck in her train of thought.

“Marinette!” Tikki had paused, and Marinette turned her head to see the small red kwami floating, arm extended to point at the bridge that suddenly seemed to appear in front of them. When had they gotten here?

“Oh. Great, we’re here! Let’s find this Fu-Man and let me get home so I can go to bed and forget all about this.” She adjusted her hold on the box and began to cross the wide bridge when Tikki darted in front of her with urgency.

“Wait! Master, I must tell you, thi-”

“Sorry, but please just call me Marinette.”

Tikki smiled and continued “Marinette, I have to quickly warn you that- even we kwamis are not sure of the lengths this villain is willing to go. We do not know if he acts with mercy, so this may be something you don’t want to see. If you’d like, I can go ahead without you and see for myself then come back?”

Marinette scrunched her nose as she thought for a few moments. Eventually she shook her head and smiled- a genuine and kind smile that made Tikkis heart ache. “No need, I’ll come with you. You’ve been here for me during all this, so I want to be here for you until you’re back in good hands” she promised.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“He was being chased?” Marinette questioned, reeling from the information the cat kwami had just dumped over her head like cold water. Fu had been pursued by some unknown antagonist for several weeks, until they eventually found and attacked the guardian. Marinette had only been an innocent bystander, a stranger in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a helping hand when Fu was at his most desperate for any kind of savior. She was the only way to get the miracle box out of the villains' reach in such a short amount of time. And the seine had been the only way to get her out of danger.

“More like hunted” Plagg sneered in response and crossed his arms

“Plagg, you're scaring her!”

“She should be scared!”

While the black and red kwami hissed at each other, the girl's head was spinning, overwhelmed with this new world she was suddenly a part of. There were so many questions running through her mind, all begging to be answered. But the most desperate one came first “Can we go back to the Pont des Arts?” She asked softly, interrupting their argument.

Plaggs expression widened in shock, and he was about to protest when Tikki stopped him. “Good idea, I’ll have all the kwamis return to the miracle box.”

“Well, wait-” she stopped her “Will you stay with me? I would feel a bit better if I had someone more informed by my side”

The red bug smiled and nodded, still ignoring the bewildered look from the cat. Before he could say anymore, she turned back to the kwamis, leaving him grumbling and following after her.

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“God. It’s already three a.m, papa is going to be awake and getting started in the bakery soon.” Marinette muttered to herself while checking the time, her and Tikki moving at a slow pace across the bridge. It was dark, the moon providing the majority of the lighting cast down on them. And, it was almost entirely silent. Save for the constant rushing of the water beneath the bridge -the sound was making her hands begin to shake all over again-, and the occasional distant hum of a car passing nearby.

“A bakery?” Tikki whispered in response.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “My parents own a bakery. ‘Tom and Sabines’.” Her hands came together then spread like she was forming a rainbow in the air as she spoke, adding a loving touch to the simple name. Tikki gave a light giggle.

“Sounds amazing! What kind of sweets do they make?” the red bug questioned before suddenly gasping, “Do they make cookies?! I haven’t had a chocolate chip cookie in so long!”

Marinette was taken back by the kwamis sudden eagerness for one of the simplest sweets their bakery had to offer, but she couldn’t help but give an entertained laugh. “We make all kinds of cookies. Snickerdoodle, peanut butter, red velvet, oatmeal raisin, -”

“Yuck.”

“Don’t you dare say that about oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“Get to the good stuff!”

She stuck her tongue out teasingly at the kwami before continuing, “chocolate chip, chocolate chunks, and like a billion other ones I'm forgetting. Give or take seasonal and custom flavors my dad makes from time to time, too.” When she looked up, Marinette swore a line of drool was trailing from Tikkis mouth, but as soon as she had noticed it the bug was in her face in excitement once again.

“Wow!” Tikki exclaimed. “I can’t wait to try them.”

“How long has it been since you last had a cookie?” she asked. Marinette wondered what parts of human life the kwamis knew of and took part in, given the ‘secrecy’ about their existence. They were familiar enough to have opinions on cookie flavors, apparently.

“Oh, I'm not sure. I haven’t had a holder in a few decades, though I have left the miracle box during that time, - Marinette? Are you not listening again?”

Almost as soon as the kwami had started talking, Marinette had frozen her stare on something ahead of them, and she seemed a million worlds away. Tikki turned to look and her heart dropped.

Blood soaked into the wood underfoot, leaving a dark stain that seemed pure black in the night time. More sat in small pools and splatters, some spraying across the lock decorations and steadily drip-drip-dripping into the surface below. The longer she stared the more she realized the Pont des Arts would now always feel like it had been smeared with death. It was all too fresh, like someone had drained the old man of all his blood and used it like paint, spreading the viscous liquid on any surface they could. It seemed like both an introduction, and parting gift. The display was left with intent, the predator that had gotten Fu was leaving a warning for whoever tried to come to his rescue. It said ‘I’m here, look what I am capable of. Look at everything I did. Look at what I’m willing to do.’

Marinette took a step back, mouth agape as she realized breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. Her blood pounded in her ears, droning out the seemingly fraught help Tikki was trying to provide the panicked girl. Another step back and her legs buckled, dropping her directly into the glistening pools of gore. Her hands clenched into fists, now stained a dark red as she kneeled in the blood, and she panted in desperate need for air. It seemed to hang in the air now, the metallic tang filling her mouth and nose.

“Marinette!”

The screech - almost directly in her ear - snapped her attention back to the ladybug creature, whose voice was feverish with alarm. “Tikki..” she breathed, still struggling to keep from hyperventilating. “Tikki, this is him, isn’t it?” Marinette brought her hands up, now holding them raised in the air to shine in the moonlight. The crimson liquid trickled from her palm to her wrist, then down her elbow and back to the bridge. “This is Master Fu?” the tears began to fall down her cheeks now, the reality setting in. She was the guardian. She was alone.

“You need to get home.”

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Marinette gets home, soaked (though no longer bloody, thanks to an alley hose she passed on her walk), and exhausted. Her breathing still awkward and unbalanced, lungs aching from whatever water she took in from the seine. Her emotions bubble inside her, threatening to spill over from her eyes once again. It was bad enough you could tell she had been crying already, she didn’t need her parents to see her in the act. Tikki rested on her shoulder, tucked neatly into her hair as they approached the bakery.

“Home sweet home” she said, waving her hands with pretend enthusiasm as she tried to revive the playful energy they had earlier. Instead her voice felt deflated and hollow. Her hands reached for the doorknob, shaking slightly as they hovered above it.

“Do you not want to go in?”

“Its not that.”

“Marinette. You can talk to me”

Marinette took a deep breath. “I can’t hide all this from my parents. Not yet, at least. If I go inside now and they’re awake, they'll know I was outside then they’ll see I was crying and I’m terrible at hiding things from my maman so one word from her and I’ll instantly spill everything that happened and then they-”

“Slow, Marinette. Is there any way you can sneak in?”

“Only through a window or my balcony, both of which I definitely can't reach from down here” she huffed, the puff of breath blowing through her still damp bangs that hung across her face. She was about to grit her teeth and accept the inevitable interrogation her parents would give when Tikki spoke again.

“I can fix that.” the kwami gave a sweet smile before phasing seamlessly through the wood of the miracle box and returning with a small case in her arms. “These are the miraculous of the ladybug. If you put on these earrings and say ‘Spots On’, you'll transform and be able to get to your balcony undetected.”

Marinette hesitated, then reached for the box and opened the lid to peek at the miraculous. Inside were two round, red earrings each with five small spots, which she carefully plucked from their resting places. They went through her ears effortlessly and lacked the weight that many earrings came with. “Please don’t tell me this is going to hurt” she wheezed, eyes drooping with sleep.

“Definitely not.” Tikki reassured quickly. “When you’re inside just say ‘Spots Off’ to drop the transformation.”

“Well… spots on?”

Tikki flew through the air, this time as if she was being pulled by some invisible force - one coming from the earrings. Her vision exploded with pink as bubbling, glowing masses appeared out of thin air and swarmed onto her body. She held her breath and pressed her eyes closed, still awaiting a sting or ache to overtake her body despite Tikkis reassurance. Instead the magical clouds felt light and tingly on her skin as they passed over her from head to toe.

The buzz came to a stop in a few moments which Marinette took as a cue to open her eyes. Nothing around her had changed, she was still standing outside the bakery clutching the miracle box, only now she was dressed in a sleek red and black spotted suit from neck to toe. She was a ladybug.

Marinettes breathing hitched in her chest as she ran her gloved hand across the material, then up to her face where she felt the grooves of a mask across her eyes. Built in secret identity, cool. She felt refreshed, the soreness in her legs was now just a weak discomfort. She took a relieved breath, and slowly stretched her limbs as she gathered her bearings. A yoyo rested on her hip, also a solid red with five black spots like the earrings, but with the same honeycomb texturing of her suit.

“A yoyo? I’m going to… yoyo to my room?” she mumbled to herself as she gave it a few experimental tosses. Looking up, she took a few breaths and prepared herself. She took a step back and threw the yo-yo towards a neighboring roof, then gave a slight tug when it had wrapped around some solid object. It pulled her effortlessly from the ground, propelling her upwards while she struggled, airborne, like a fish out of water. In moments she landed, almost entirely flat on her face, on the spine of the rooftop.

It took a minute for Marinette to figure out her next step, which ended up being just to drop from the roof to her balcony. It had seemed much more complicated in her head, like she would have to be some ninja, hiding in the shadows. But she had left the trapdoor to her room unlocked, so it had required no more effort than opening a door. She landed softly on her bed, and subsequently threw herself back onto her blankets with an exasperated sigh.

“Spots off” she mumbled, already fighting the alluring call of sleep. Another flash of the magic light and the suit was gone, leaving Tikki in its place. She looked around, observing her new environment before turning back to Marinette.

“Home sweet home” She echoed the previous statement, then burrowed into the crook of Marinettes elbow as the girl groggily put herself to bed. With the miracle box held firmly in her grip, and the deep ache slowly returning to her muscles as the magic of the miraculous wore off, she mumbled a barely coherent goodnight to Tikki and let herself fall into the comfort of sleep.

[undefeatablesin]

Watch out ya'll, Sin's sketching Bloodborne comics again! 💀

[moonpaw]

Fighting DEMONS rn trying not to get invested in one piece to figure out wtf you're posting about!!!!

come here cyber.... we have this thang

‎

[speedofsoundsketches]

Oh, it turns out Ian flynn worked on the Shadow animated shorts, he did a pretty good job consider he doesn't always get Shadow right in idw

I'm aware. With the amount of #knowingsmiles posted during the initial announcements, it's hard to not know he was involved.

He also wrote the Knuckles short in Frontiers which I also really liked but I attribute that being thanks mostly for having to work under Tyson Hesse's direction.

Shadow being ok in these shorts happened thanks to Sonic Team giving a LOT more direction and scrutiny on the scripts since it's held to a much higher standard as part of the games than Flynn was for IDW. (which still didn't stop him from inserting some of his fanfiction sourced flynnisms but what it do)

One hopes that this closer work relationship with Sonic Team will teach him how to properly write these characters and internalize the art of writing Sonic Stories in the future. I have my doubts tho since some of the writing in the shorts IS still pretty contrived (wouldn't be on brand for him if it wasn't) and ignores established lore to make the plot make sense like Shadow not warping directly into the Space Ark as he's done before. But nope, we gotta have big fight sequences so let's raid a base for a shuttle he doesn't need!

And I say this as someone who enjoyed it overall and thought the fight scenes were hype. But I'd like fight scenes to have thought behind the spectacle, not without.

[satorisoup]

people will think im ordinary until they say one (1) thing about tmnt and all of a sudden im explaining the entire lore starting from the 1990’s movie & why donatello is the best turtle i fear… T^T

tag limit fights me… i must yap… please listen… SOB </3

[we-are-dogclan]

ouuugh motivation come back to me……… com e back…

[themissingnumbers]

[i will probably delete this later but for other pokepasta blogs hanging around, i (starry) am making interactions open with my currently available characters (ace, fire, glitchy, and leaf sorry blue/mike/steven fans) open for other ask/rp blog's muses/characters.

these will be non-canon, but that also means that even while the main story's on hiatus, i'm open to receiving and answering these in the meantime! ive been seeing other blog interactions circle in the pokepasta ask/rp blog sphere a fair bit more lately and it seems like a lot of fun, esp now that we know what we're doing with mn a bit better. i am also planning/hoping to send a few out to other blogs as well ^^

i'll tag these posts as "mn noncanon" for sorting or filtering purposes. i dont rly have any rules i'll lay down other than like... specify if your muse is interacting with them Physically or via the Drones for the cam crew]

[romance-rambles]

[modern] cael | red dress, white dress

After Cael picks up a new hobby relating to your latest work, the two of you discuss weddings and wedding dresses. It ends with a proposal, from you to him.

1.8k, set after qixi [+ some spoilers for his whisper], romantic fluff + super self-indulgent, reader is mc, sequel to this cael fic [but you don't have to read it in order], series: none

IN THE TIME SINCE THE night of the QIxi festival, Cael has discovered an amusing new hobby with which to occupy himself with, when he's with you.

The words that the painter and the spirit speak—particularly towards end of your oneshot—are, evidently, not unrelated to your relationship with him. That much is obvious. And it'd be rather difficult to claim otherwise, given the faces they wear.

You haven't tried to, either.

Between the two of you, there is an acknowledgment, implicit, that they are a reflection of your innermost thoughts and desires. That they are the kind of daydreams that even someone eloquent as him would find difficult to describe, domestic and loving—just tumultuous enough to describe their standing, with the sort of fairytale ending most would wish for. That they are memories, transformed only in setting and time—only this time, they are not newly acquainted or on a time limit.

He thinks of the quaint little moment where the painter promises to make sure that no one will bother his lover. Had he not done the same for you, once, long ago?

He remembers the casual affection the spirit showers upon her love too, the way she finds herself with her head on his lap underneath the wisterias, and if that ever stops feeling familiar, it must be because he's lost his mind.

After all, you've always been an affectionate person. How can he miss it when the evidence remains in the lingering heat left by your touch? Through the way you so easily take his hand, or throw your arms around him—

When your lovesick gaze isn't boring holes into his body, that is.

He's no better in that regard. In some ways, he thinks he might be worse, with the way his loving gaze seems incapable of following anyone but you. But you might turn it into a competition if he brings it up, so Cael—well aware it won't end well for him—keeps his mouth shut.

Still, it's clear that you never expected him to start quoting your dialogue back at you.

It reminds him of one of the first times he'd properly let his mask down. The way the gears turned in your head, your deer-in-headlights expression betraying your panic before he'd clarified his joke. You'd stared at him—half-relieved, half-surprised, sitting in the silence a bit longer before you laughed.

Today, when you stare at him, there is a hint of defiance peeking through from underneath your flustered mien.

You're dressed casually, in a yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt with one of your favorite cartoon characters. Jagged lines run across the drawing, signaling its age. Some parts of the design have entirely vanished, but it remains one of your most faithful companions still.

With your head on his lap and legs thrown over the armrest, you're sprawled across the couch. In your hand is your phone, and before he dropped his line of the day on you, you'd been showing him a red dress that you really liked—one you intended to buy with your next paycheck.

"Thank you." The effect of your haughty tone is greatly lessened by the scarlet hue painting your cheeks. You clear your throat. "Does that mean you'd like to see me in a red dress?"

Cael chuckles, brushing your hair gently. "To me, it seems like you're the one who wants to be seen in a red dress."

"Of course, I do," you reply, your hand reaching out to play with his hair. "But red or white, it's not the dress that matters. As long as there's a certain someone waiting for me at the end."

For a moment, his quick-thinking mind betrays him, offering him nothing but static. He puts down the book in his hand down and carefully adjust the bookmark until it looks neat. His attention had left its crisp pages when you'd sat down beside him, but it remained in his hand still.

Occasionally, he would flip to the next page, then remember that he had absorbed none of the words on the previous page. So, he would go back, a fact that had not escaped your keen gaze—you'd teased him plenty for it, and who was he to stop you?

"I wonder who that certain someone is," he murmurs.

"I think he knows who he is," you answer, holding onto the end of his now braided strands. After a moment of digging around in your pockets, and the sofa as well, you managed to find a hair tie. "Or, he should, by this point."

"Indeed," Cael says, earning himself a wry smile from you. "It would be difficult to miss."

Enamored by your smile, he sifts through his memories, searching for the line that had left every single reader in desperate search of their own painter.

You'd been rather pleased when you went scrolling through the comments, with a smile so big it bordered on evil. So pleased, in fact, that you made sure to show him every such comment. The underlying meaning to your words was clear—you'd already found your painter, after all.

You'd have a big ego if you were dating someone so pretty too, you'd said, when he'd commented offhandedly on it.

He remembers responding with:

Then I'm certain I have the biggest ego out of anyone.

Though, his words ended up only disarming you for a brief second. It wasn't long before you were throwing your arms around him and calling him a liar ". But for the time being, the comment section was forgotten, and it was just you and him—and Beanie, watching you both from his favorite spot underneath the round table in the corner, seemingly miffed at being excluded.

He had snuck in a few extra treats for him.

Then, all was well in their relationship once more.

"'If that day ever comes, no matter what you want—'" Cael smiles helplessly, remembering the way you'd so easily captured his expression on the painter's face. "'I'll do everything in my power to bring you the most elegant wedding in the entire world.' Though you said the dress itself doesn't matter..."

You inhale sharply, seemingly forgetting—for a moment—that you're in the middle of braiding another section of his hair. When you look back at him, having looked away, your eyes are shining with poorly-disguised affection and your voice is painfully soft.

"When," you correct. "When that day comes. That's what I should've written down."

Letting go of his hair, you pull yourself off his lap and draw your knees closer to your chest. You rest your head on his shoulder. And as loose dark hair begins to tickle his cheek, his hand seeks out yours, pinky finger brushing against the back of your hand.

"When that day comes, we'll get married."

His gaze softens when he looks at you, in the midst of murmuring his agreement. Your wedding is something he's thought about often—his own is not. But now, the groom at the altar is no longer a blurry figure, devoid of any recognizable qualities and having only an aura of happiness that befits a day so celebrated.

It is something he'll ponder over until the day comes, all so that you're the happiest bride to ever live, whether on Earth or any other world.

"Good." You squeeze his hand gently. "Consider it a proposal then."

"It's the first time I've ever been proposed to," he comments offhandedly.

"Really?" For some reason, you sound surprised. And though your words sound like they could pass for a joke, the thoughtful note to them makes it clear that they are not. "Alright, I'm taking it back. I'll make sure to come back with a ring next time."

Cael smiles helplessly at you. "I'm not sure if you can take something like that back so easily."

His breath catches in his throat when you lift your head slightly to meet his gaze. Because in that moment, you're smiling at him brightly, It is blinding. While he's distracted, you lean in close and steal a quick kiss from his lips.

"Temporary measure," you respond, squinting at him in faux annoyance. "You're not getting rid of me so easily."

In a voice so soft that he's half certain you'll miss it, he says, sincerely, "I would never dream of it."

Judging by the way your smile widens into a grin, you don't miss it at all.

+extra

"YOU KNOW, YOU MISSED IT BEFORE," you point out unexpectedly, long after they've moved on from the topic of weddings and wedding dresses.

Cael catches onto the context immediately.

It's past dinner time now. The dirty dishes in the sink wait for you and your yellow rubber gloves patiently for their turn. He'd been the one to make dinner, something quick and easy, per your request. Your wish for the day had been "a lazy day together", so your initial intention was to order to takeout.

But halfway through the day, you began to crave his cooking.

Once he'd made sure the ingredients were there, getting them both out of a trip to the supermarket, you had no reason to refuse his offer. So you'd scrapped your plans and followed him into the kitchen to help.

"I'm not sure it would've been very appropriate to point out," he says, from where he sits at the dining table.

He'd expected nothing to come out of it, so he simply never brought it up. There were more important things to worry about at the time—your presence in Godheim, and all that came after that. His heart aches at the memory of your tears, particularly because he'd been the one to cause them.

They'd never properly spoken of it—of the day Peter Pan understood, but could not bring himself to make peace with, the fact that Wendy would have to leave him one day.

"After all, you were a teenager," Cael adds, remembering what he'd told your friend Natalie. "It would be no different than taking advantage of you."

His words, however, go in one ear and go out the other. You're rather specific about what you choose to pick out from his words, your next words discarding all but the subtext.

"So, you did know about my crush on you."

Though your words are undeniably a conclusion, a statement and not a question, they carry with them an expectation of a response. You crane your neck to fix him with an equally expectant stare, as if the weight behind your words isn't enough.

"Yes, I knew about your crush on me," Cael admits wryly. A helpless sigh accompanies his words. "What brought this on?"

You hum strainedly, returning to your dishes. "Nothing."

For the time being, he leaves it at that.

It is only when the two of you happen to encounter Lars while on a date that he discovers the truth, after some coaxing on his part. That you'd been under the impression that your crush on him was a secret kept carefully under wraps. That it'd been Lars who'd guessed otherwise—after some advice on how to handle Cael's new hobby—and subsequently been proven correct, leaving you to sulk on your own.

Unsurprisingly, Cael does not manage to stifle his laughter before you notice.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

there is a lot of very good commentary happening in the notes on that "did jgy kill jin rusong" poll in the tags, but i think i am finally too burnt out on that subject even to vote and reblog the poll. tl;dr i don't think there is a definitive answer either way and i don't need for there to be a definitive answer to find jin guangyao interesting and sympathetic.

[conqueenror]

People often forget the fact that the main character/cast in the story doesn't have to believe in the right thing. They can be very wrong, they can die while believing in something very wrong. And it's not just the "tragic" very wrong, nor the "badass villain" very wrong, it is actually something disgusting and inhumane, that makes people feel terrible knowing that in some story, the main cast can have awful morals. In some stories, no character, not the main cast nor the villain, may have the right insight on something. And people will automatically assume that the story and the author are terrible, because everything is so bad in the story. Except, this makes people ignore said story itself. The right belief may actually be hidden, and only uncovered by seeing what these characters, main cast or villains, get in the end. You can't know that running wild on the rocky ground is a bad idea, until you fall, or hear it from someone else.