#its late but so is sans on any given occasion

[olmstier]

More old doodle of sans! What a pleasant surprise!

[absentcaryatid]

Call Me

An ATEEZ Mingi fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

A misunderstanding over your phone's contact list leads Mingi to hurt feelings that are resolved with a mutual confession of love.

2.6K words, Content note: all ages, gender neutral reader, angst that ends well, crying, discussion of kissing, mention of mental health break and anxiety, Mingi has a self-esteem issue

~

Wooyoung had been the one to introduce you to the other members of ATEEZ. Given the longstanding lack of romantic interest on either side, he lovingly called you his cousin, and it might as well have been true the way he deeply cared for everyone he took a liking to. Actually you had met in school before he thought to pursue stardom and that history made you a trusted friend Wooyoung could count on to be there for himself rather than his fame.

While his busy life made seeing each other in person a rarity, you were able to keep in touch by text and various apps. Still, Wooyoung missed being in your presence and made the suggestion that you stop by KQ Entertainment sometime at the end of his work day if you were close by. Originally intending to go out for dinner as a pair, you ended up ordering in because you had easily fallen into conversation with the rest of ATEEZ after being introduced.

It was Yunho who had first made you feel welcome among them by suggesting the change in plans. Seonghwa seconded his idea and now all eight surrounded you, enraptured by your storytelling. They took an interest in yourself, but San in particular gleefully pumped you for information about Wooyoung's past. Seated around KQ's kitchen table you recognized from some of Wooyoung's cooking content, the conversation led to spilling quite a few secrets about the younger version of their outgoing friend, from a time even before Yeosang had met Wooyoung at Big Hit.

Not minding the attention at all, you could see Wooyoung pleased at the way his work friends took to you even if, as he admitted later, it came at the cost of his dignity. That conversation another day also revealed how impressed he was that normally reserved Jongho had warmed up unexpectedly fast. You knew the reason for that had been quietly divulging a few choice ways to torment his roommate Wooyoung whenever he was too annoying.

Hongjoong too had liked you too if his flurry of questions between yawns had been any indication. Wooyoung had been reassuring that the yawns were truly not a sign of disinterest, merely exhaustion from Hongjoong's late nights in the studio. The only member you did not get a good read on that first night was Mingi who had been quietly watching rather than talkative and you did not know what to make of him other than how much you were drawn to his looks.

From that occasion forward your life completely changed. Becoming friends with a whole team of idols had never been something you looked for in life. In fact, you had always been rather blasé about Wooyoung's career since your own tastes ran to more traditional music and sometimes international pop slowly making its way into your awareness. It may have been the lack of being starstruck why the men so quickly felt comfortable around you. Regular visits occurred as time went on, even to the privacy of their dorm for evenings of laughter and video games.

The greatest change however, came not from the newly expanded friend group, but due to the member who immediately caught your attention during time together. From the very first meeting you had been smitten by the quiet man with kind eyes often found behind stylish eyeglasses. Mingi quickly won your heart with a dazzling smile brought out by frequent laughter.

Guessing how much attention Mingi must get from fans led you to hold back, hoping to spare him feeling pestered with all the questions you had about his work writing rap lyrics or thoughts about fashion. Cutting off every conversation in person or by text sooner than you wanted risked giving the wrong impression, but you felt that was a better alternative to discomfort should he learn of your daily deepening crush. Still, it was clear to you Mingi was your favorite among the recently made friends even if you took great pains not to let it show.

It was that reservation on your part plus a big misunderstanding that led to causing him anguish, as unintentional as it was. Even though the eventual outcome was positive, it still hurt to look back on how everything came about. There were far better ways you could have handled your attraction without breaking Mingi's heart, even for a moment. The trouble started with another visit at the end of the group's work day.

Talk turned to planning another a fun evening eating together in the staff break room but nobody had any strong feelings about where to order from. When Mingi asked what some of the options were you thoughtlessly tossed your phone to him opened to the contact list so he could browse all the saved restaurants among the entries. So busy in discussion with Yeosang over the merits of various chicken places in town, you missed the falling look on Mingi's face as he scrolled.

The rough way he slid the phone back to you before leaving suddenly did not go unnoticed however. Seeing the other guys around the table just as clueless about Mingi's behavior, you shrugged your shoulders along with them. Conversation resumed after Seonghwa took the lead and picked a restaurant then made an order for nine people with enough variety in dishes to please everyone.

While waiting, you realized your water bottle was still in the practice room so you headed back to where you had first greeted the guys. You did not get far for rounding the corner led you straight into a sniffling Mingi. He seemed crumpled into a seated position on the floor, back against the wall as he attempted to hide the tears he was obviously wiping on his sleeve.

Concerned, you immediately knelt at his side. “Are you injured? Do you need me to get the others?”

“Only my pride.” Mingi raised himself up and turned to walk away. Stopping, he faced you again and took a deep breath as you stood. “Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.” Perhaps because of his still disheveled and pitiable state you let slip, “I care about you a lot, Mingi.”

“I think not.”

Baffled by his answer, you looked at him while awaiting an explanation.

“It was hard to take the time Yeosang did not have my phone number, but this felt a million times worse. Every other member is in your phone except me. But I get it. The team functioned perfectly fine without me during my hiatus. Seems you view the group as complete without me too.”

The gasp that came from your mouth went ignored as Mingi continued. “My looks are not like Yunho's; I don't have Jongho's voice or San's charm. I am not witty like Yeosang, as creative as Hongjoong, nor do I possess Wooyoung's dedication or Seonghwa's elegance.”

You were heartbroken by the litany of perceived shortcomings. Over the eight months of Mingi's absence for a mental health break Wooyoung had constantly confided in you how lacking the team felt without their friend. Now that you had a sense of Mingi yourself, you understood how true that would have been. He was a vital part of the eight member team.

At this point you didn't care if you revealed your feelings, only supporting Mingi's self-esteem. “None of that matters to me. Truly though, the man I see right now has looks that make me weak in the knees and a sense of humor that can have me laughing like no one else ever has.”

“You are just saying those things to make me feel better. If you really liked me I would be in your phone with the others.” Mingi scoffed, “You even have some air conditioning company or repairman listed but not me!” The man you adored agitatedly ran his hand through his hair before continuing. Mingi looked crushed as he admitted, “You have always been brusque with me but I thought we were at least friends. Clearly I was wrong.”

“Mingi, wait.” Your plea stopped him as he walked away. He was in obvious pain and this was the very last thing you had wanted to happen.

Over his slumped shoulder he called, “It really hurts. I liked you. I even wrote my lines in 'Feeling Like I Do' about you!”

Going over those lyrics would have to wait for another time because you were currently bewildered by the AC repairman comment. There was no entry for anything like that. Looking at your contacts, it finally dawned on you what happened. Knowing you had only this moment to reassure him, you walked around to face Mingi again. “I can only prove this to you right now, once you walk away you will never know the truth of what I am about to say. Call me, you will see you are already in here and not added in after.”

Mingi looked skeptical, but your voice was the deciding factor as you begged, “Please,” sounding on the verge of tears. It felt like forever as you mournfully looked at each other with hurt on both sides. Sighing deeply, Mingi took out his own phone and initiated a call.

The Groove Chasers remix of Bruno Mars' 'Just the Way You Are' began to play on your phone from the chorus lines:

When I see your face There's not a thing that I would change 'Cause you're amazing Just the way you are And when you smile The whole world stops and stares for a while 'Cause, girl, you're amazing Just the way you are

Before you cut it off after lines addressing the listener as a girl, you made sure to turn the screen to Mingi. His eyes went wide as the entry ACT COOL scrolled across the phone. What in his upset state he had mistaken for an air conditioner repair service revealed itself in a crawl to be quite different. 'ACT COOL......your crush is calling' was the label for Mingi in your address book.

Still processing his comment that he liked you, you decided to take the risk of being further open with Mingi and explained, “This song always makes me think of you.”

Mingi's face was unreadable.

It was possible you had insulted him. “Sorry it is a song for a girl. I can change it to the remix of Pink's 'F**kin' Perfect' if you want, or delete the number from my phone entirely and leave you alone for the rest of your life.” Trailing off sadly, you waited to see Mingi's reaction. The pause before he spoke was more than made up for when it went far better than you could have dreamed.

“I'm not hung up on gender, so that is not my concern. It’s more being thought of as amazing that I have trouble wrapping my head around. I get it when fans think that about my managed idol persona, but you have seen the real me.”

His easy acceptance of the lyrics about a woman made sense. Gender was never going to be a sticking point for someone who ran around calling himself princess. But it was a love song, and that had not fazed him either.

“You really do like me back,” he mused in wonder. Mood completely recovered from his earlier despair, Mingi followed up by asking with a smirk, “Isn't there something about kissing in the song? Lips being kissed all day if they would let the singer do that?”

He stepped closer, near enough for you to see tears from earlier still on his cheek. As you brushed them away with your thumbs, Mingi whispered, “I'd let you kiss me all day. It is something I have been thinking about for a while. That's why my apparent absence from your contacts hurt so much. I am sorry I did not believe you though. Letting my emotions run away with me is no excuse.”

Your face felt heated. This was not how you wanted your confession to go, if you ever had worked up the courage to say something. You doubted things would have made it that far on your own. Rather than jump into kissing, you took a slower approach more your style. “Thank you for the apology. It is appreciated.”

Now feeling a little more relaxed, you reached for his hands. “Truly, you are amazing, Mingi. Do you want me to stop saying things like that though? Would it be bad for you due to your anxiety? I don't want pressure on you to live up to my adoration.”

Mingi broke out in a stellar smile and you fell deeper in love. “No, I think it’ll be good for both of us to think of me that way.” With a final leftover sniffle, he suggested getting back to the others as he led you by the hand. Entering with a pair of wide smiles, the group was quick to notice the change in behavior between you.

Yeosang was the first to find his voice. “Somebody finally confessed?”

“About time,” Wooyoung declared loudly. “I thought I was going to have to sit you two down for a talk.”

Mingi was surprised. “You knew we liked each other?”

“Even I noticed, and I don't care about these things.” Jongho's teasing was evident when he smiled and added, “Congratulations.”

While the others chattered excitedly at the table, Mingi guided you to the couch nearby. It still had not sunk in what he meant when he mentioned writing lines about you. “You really wrote your part in 'Feeling Like I Do' with me in mind?”

“Yes, 'I want your love so bad' is all I can think when I see you. And you come to mind when I sing my lines in 'With U' and 'Thank U' these days.”

Filled with awe, you snuggled deep into his arms to help you both recover from the extremely stressful reveal. After some time spent in silence you had both calmed down somewhat. Your heart was still racing, but from a completely different reason at this point. Mingi's next words only added to that.

“I think it is time to change my name in your phone, don’t you? Boyfriend maybe?”

While some people might have found the label moving too fast, before a date even, your time together told you this was exactly what you were ready for. Typing away, you grinned after showing him the updated entry.

“'Mingi My Favorite Boyfriend Ever!' Really? That is a confidence booster but I have not even done anything for you yet.”

Burrowed into his chest, your smile was hidden but your voice carried the same indication of joy to his ears. “Certainly is true that you are my favorite boyfriend.” Dropping to a whisper, you revealed, “I have never dated before.”

Now it was his turn to grin. “I shall live up to the new title as if competing against hundreds in your past.”

“Okay, that is sweet Mingi, but sounds burdensome. Just be yourself because that alone is everything I could ever want.”

Using his newfound boyfriend privileges, Mingi kissed the top of your head to a chorus of boisterous cheers from his teammates. “You have me then. Now, let’s pick a good label for you in my phone so I can proudly show it off to the guys whenever you send me a message. I like your idea for 'F**kin' Perfect' as a ringtone if you are okay with that.”

You agreed immediately, hoping the self-affirming lyrics whenever you called would be a good reminder for Mingi not to be so hard on himself. And, if your new boyfriend considered you perfect too, well who were you to argue with him about that?

~

Mingi Masterlist

General Masterlist

[poppyseedspshelpmesleep]

There's gotta be something poetic I could write about finding it in myself to post on Kakashi's birthday but like, nah. In some of my previous posts here about TCO I mentioned a lil something else I've been working on. So, here's the first chapter of a lil prologue of sorts!

Also, happy late birthday to Sakumo!!

Check out TCO chapter one here.

The Four Stooges [5+1]

Chapter One | At First Glance

A month into the academy, and Sakumo still wasn’t used to all the noise. One would think he’d have a harder time out in the village proper, but while that was certainly true on occasion, something about the closed building filled with other genin-hopefuls just made everything louder.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about having to attend, either, but it was easier knowing his closest friend had to go through this with him.

Speaking of, Sakumo turned just as Tsunade sat down with a huff next to him. She kept her eyes closed and crossed her arms, and Sakumo just knew someone had stopped her before classes to ask about her family.

Knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about it, Sakumo nudged her arm and pointed at the ceiling.

“Sensei still hasn’t brought down the pencil Tadashi threw last week,”

Tsunade looked up and huffed again, letting her arms fall as she leaned forward to peer around the kids in front of them.

“If he hasn’t taken it down, I bet he’ll leave it until we graduate.” She turned to grin at him, “500 ryo that pencil’s still there when Nawaki starts attending?”

Sakumo looked back to the pencil.

“I don’t know, maybe it’ll fall out on its own before then?”

“No way! Tadashi’s good at throwing, I’m sure that pencil’s buried enough it won’t fall.”

“Still, maybe-”

“Settle down for attendance everyone, class is starting.”

Sakumo sat up in his seat while Tsunade rolled her eyes and put her arms on the table.

“Think he’ll be on time today?” She murmured without turning.

Sakumo gave her a side glance. “Probably, Sasuke-sensei said he’d give us a group project today, remember?”

“Ugh.”

Sure enough, when their sensei called out for Jiraiya, a white haired boy close to the middle of the class raised his hand even as he continued whispering not to his friend.

Roll call finished, the teacher went on to explain the group project he was assigning. In groups of four, they’d have to decide on an older shinobi from the given list to interview. Afterwards, they’d have to find any records on them to verify that they’d been told the truth. The next day they were to return with a concise report of their findings. All shinobi listed were volunteers and would be easily found in the village, and students were welcome to try different espionage techniques they’d gone over last week to follow them around before talking with them.

Tsunade and Sakumo were paired with Jiraiya and Orochimaru.

////

“Of course you’d get us stuck with Saburo of all people!”

“I’m not the one who kept fooling around and made us the last group that got to pick!”

Sakumo winced as Tsunade poked at Jiraiya’s chest, understandably miffed he was trying to divert the blame.

“Saburo-san is a respected jounin and esteemed member of the Yamada clan, why are you upset that he is our assignment?”

Jiraiya groaned and ran his hand over his face as turned to look at Orochimaru. “That’s exactly the problem!”

Tsunade grimaced in agreement. “Saburo-san is known for being harsh in his expectations, and Ojisan’s gotten complaints that he gives those under his command ‘tests’ even during missions.”

Sakumo sighed. “So odds are he’ll make our assignment more difficult?”

“More than likely.”

Jiraiya groaned again. Orochimaru blinked at them before shrugging. “Then we just have to find a way to get around his plan.”

Sakumo grimaced as Tsunade got her thinking face on. The last time she did that, he found himself stuck to the ceiling of the hokage office and it was not a fun experience.

“Orochimaru, you’ve managed a perfect transformation technique already, right?”

They boy nodded, eyes curious. Jiraiya huffed but notably didn’t say anything.

Tsunade cracked her knuckles and grinned, “then I think we’ll be making good use of our resources.”

*////*

The plan was this: while the boys read over scrolls from the library, using special passes given by the academy for this purpose, Tsunade would be raiding the hokage’s storage room back home in order to find a simple area-locking seal.

Armed with more information, they would locate their target and confirm his position before finding a nearby clearing. Once rendezvousing, the seal would be placed and the group would head back to their target, ready to act as if they had just begun their assignment. As they conversed with and interrogated Saburo, Tsunade would lay a subtle genjutsu she’d been taught over their immediate surroundings, gradually changing it to make it look like they were moving.

While it was likely the jounin would notice, they were banking on not being called out on it. Afterall, Saburo, though known to be a hardass, was still required to let them try whatever they wanted. Presumably he would call them out after their technique was over, but that’s when their plan would really kick into action.

With the genjutsu was in effect, Sakumo would be terraforming their surroundings as they started walking, giving everything more of a genuine edge until it seemed as if the genjutsu had worn off and they were truly in a different area. Which would be true, for at that point they’d really be in the clearing and the genjutsu would be focusing on disguising the seal.

Once Saburo was in the seal, Tsunade would activate it and dive behind a barrier Sakumo along with him. A separate barrier was made close to Orochimaru where Jiraiya would hide, and as their target was distracted by the seal and a change in the genjutsu, Orochimaru would transform into an accurate rendition of one of the hokage’s direct anbu, courtesy of Tsunade. Jiraiya would act as a voiceover, as they’d found out he could drastically change the way he sounded, and together the two boys would lead Saburo into thinking he was actually being interrogated by the hokage’s anbu.

Which brought them to where they were now, with a freaking out jounin confessing to having contacts in Iwa and smuggling confidential information.

“Oh. That is- that is bad.”

“No kidding, Jiraiya! Now shut up!”

“Don’t go telling them my name, princess!”

“Like that’s not telling!”

“...”

“Orochimaru can you watch over them while I go get an actual anbu?”

The boy poofed back into himself and nodded at Sakumo, who promptly took off.

Tsunade may have had a way to immediately get the anbu’s attention, and as he struggled to catch sight of one, Sakumo zoned in on a police officer.

“Uchiha-san! Over here, please! We have a traitor!”

Catching his breath, it was only as the gasps around him sounded that Sakumo realized shouting about a traitor in the middle of the village wasn’t the best idea.

“Uh- we already caught him, you just have to come get him.”

The police officer was already communicating with others, and as Sakumo led the way back, a few anbu joined them.

Seeing the Nidame himself show up to release Saburo from the seal and into custody was just icing on the cake. The man stared down at Tsunade with a grave look in his eyes, before giving her a small smile and rustling her hair.

“Well done.”

Tsunade preened and turned to look at them. “My friends helped too, Ojisan!”

The hokage turned to them as well. “So they did. I’ll be sure to tell Sarutobi Sasuke what a great deed his students just accomplished for the village.”

They boys thanked him and Tobirama left to deal with what had happened.

“So,” Tsunade started. “Seems like we make a pretty good team, eh boys?”

Jiraiya grinned and threw his arms behind his head, “Of course, cause we have me!”

Orochimaru huffed but gave a small smile. “Seems so.”

“Do you think this will count our assignment as completed?” Sakumo furrowed his brow, not paying attention to what the others had been saying.

They stared at him.

“What?”

[irvinenewshq]

Day-after-day 100000 new songs arrive on music streaming providers

Music lovers typically really feel like they’re lacking out on the newest music releases. And now we all know that it’s not only a feeling: almost 100,000 new songs be part of the catalogues of streaming platforms like Spotify, Apple Music and Soundcloud on daily basis. This colossal statistic comes from two music trade giants, particularly Sir Lucian Grainge, the CEO of Common Music Group, and Steve Cooper, the outgoing CEO of Warner Music Group. They spoke about it throughout two separate occasions, the Goldman Sachs Communacopia + Expertise convention in San Francisco and the Music Issues convention in Singapore, held in September.  “Immediately, on any given day of the week, roughly 100,000 tracks of music are uploaded to SoundCloud, Spotify, Apple, [and] so on,” mentioned Steve Cooper on the Goldman Sachs Communacopia + Expertise convention, which was attended by Music Enterprise Worldwide. The Warner Music Group boss emphasised how troublesome it’s for rising artists to get their music out on this ultra-competitive ecosystem.  Sir Lucian Grainge agrees. He additionally says that file firms have an much more essential function to play on this saturated market since they’ve the experience to launch the careers of much less skilled musicians. In fact, there’s additionally the matter of TikTok, the Chinese language social community that has change into a real trendsetter within the matter of music. READ: Okay.O basking within the success of his hit single ‘Sete’ Artists, each novice and extra established, are usually not the one ones who really feel helpless amidst this big musical provide. Music streaming platform customers additionally specific feeling misplaced. Many are overwhelmed by the abundance of choices and don’t know how you can navigate by way of catalogues with tens of hundreds of thousands of songs, even 100 million within the case of Apple Music.  A virtuous circle – or a vicious one? Apple’s streaming service lately introduced that its subscribers can now take pleasure in 100 million totally different songs on its platform, excess of essentially the most avid music lover will take heed to in a lifetime. Certainly, if we estimate {that a} hit music lasts, on common, three minutes, it could take about 571 years to take heed to all the music catalogue of Apple Music. With out taking a single break from listening. “Extra music than you possibly can take heed to in a lifetime, or a number of lifetimes. Extra music than every other platform. Merely the largest assortment of music, in any format, ever,” wrote Rachel Newman, Apple Music’s international head of editorial, in a weblog put up. In the meantime, Spotify boasts a listing of over 80 million songs on its platform, in addition to 4 million podcasts. The conflict of numbers is effectively and actually on between Spotify, Apple Music, Deezer and Quobuz. For shoppers, this competitors between streaming providers across the measurement of their catalogue could appear ridiculous … and downright dizzying. It’s not shocking then that many depend on platforms’ playlists and suggestion algorithms to increase their horizons. Whereas these instruments could also be handy, they threat, locking customers right into a musical bubble. An irony, although they’ve hundreds of thousands of various songs at their disposal in a number of clicks. READ NEXT:TikTok to launch music streaming app Originally published at Irvine News HQ

[ahtsumu]

LOVE PERSEVERING, EP 1. “The Plot Twist”

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

synopsis: the nanami’s have an evening full of surprises – the most surprising of all, however, is the one that comes without explanation.

tag(s): loose (very loose) wandavision!au, humor, domestic fluff, suggestive content, profanity, can be read as a standalone! ; wc: 2.6k

love persevering m.list

“SORRY I’M LATE.”

Nanami Kento closes the front door behind him and changes out of his oxfords for house slippers. The traffic was crazy, there’d been an accident on the 101, a Maserati collided with a Ferrari and the two drivers were hashing it out in the middle of – no, that’s a horrible story and even worse lie. He doesn’t even drive to work. He takes the Caltrain to his job in San Francisco every morning and takes it home to Sunnyvale every evening.

Shit, Nanami thinks as he tries to hide the evidence of his… offense. Can he cover it up with something? Maybe if he held his briefcase in front of it… No, that’s so obvious. It’s so… red. And big. There’s no way it’d stay concealed.

It’s not that Nanami is in any way dumb or easily frazzled. No, he’s quite intelligent and levelheaded and the fact that he works as an Associate at Goldman Sachs should be proof enough. It’s just that he strongly dislikes the thought of lying to you. Technically, he doesn’t even have to make up a story to explain his tardiness. You probably don’t really care that he’s – Nanami checks his watch while setting his briefcase down – an hour late home. But having a story would quell your suspicions about the true reason he’s late.

See, today his co-worker Archie was talking on and on about how he surprised his wife with a bouquet of fifty roses the other night and, well, Nanami felt inspired. He’s not typically one for large romantic gestures, so he thought that maybe he should step up his game and at least remind you of how much he loves you the one day he’s given a sign to.

“First, you gotta lower her expectations, y’know?” Archie says like he’s giving a pitch. “Make her think the conversation is gonna be far from romantic. Say something totally boring. ‘Hey, honey, I had a great day at work today.’ Somethin’ like that, y’know? Then you just whip it right out. Bam.”

Nanami looks at the pink peonies in his hand with a small smile. Happy marriage, the flower shop attendee had said. Hearing your footsteps leading out from the second-floor bedroom, he quickly places the red bouquet behind the living room sofa before rushing back to his original place by the door. At first sight of your figure descending the stairs, Nanami starts (perhaps too exaggeratedly) loosening his tie.

“Ken.”

Oh. Oh, this doesn’t sound too good. Pausing his movements, Nanami assesses the damage. Your arms are crossed over your chest and your head is slightly cocked to the side, and you’re shooting him an expectant look. To be frank, you look a little pissed. You’re not even smiling. This definitely isn’t too great.

“Honey,” he starts, flashing you a conciliatory smile.

“Did you know that we were supposed to leave for our reservation an hour ago?” you interrupt.

Reservation? It doesn’t ring a bell.

Oh, is that why… fuck.

Taking your husband’s silence as evidence that he’d forgotten, you let out a sigh and walk up to his frozen frame, stopping when you’re right under his nose. “Did you?”

Nanami looks up at the ceiling as he tries to recall anything about reservations, but his mind turns blank. Actually, he thinks as he furrows his brows, he can’t even remember what he did yesterday.

“No,” he admits truthfully, looking into your eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry but I don’t remember at all. Listen, I –”

And then, you laugh.

“I was just messin’ with you, babe.” Still giggling, you pull him in for a hug. “The reservation’s not today.”

Nanami blinks as his arms wrap around you. There’s no reservation. “You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles. “I genuinely thought that I’d done something wrong.”

“No, definitely not. You’re wonderful.” Lifting your heels off the floor, you capture Nanami’s lips in a short kiss. He eagerly responds, pulling you closer into his firm body. This is, without a doubt, Nanami’s favorite part about coming home. You. Always there, at the end of the day, with your sunny little grin and sweet, adoring eyes. A little piece of paradise.

“You are so much trouble,” he murmurs as you pull apart. You hum at that, unable to disagree.

“We do, however, have a reservation at eight tomorrow.”

He frowns. “I genuinely don’t remember making plans for that, darling, I’m sorry.” Nanami glances down at your face and notices your surprised expression.

“Me neither. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me something about that.”

Well, that’s odd. It’s not often that either of you forgets anything, let alone something as easily remembered as a dinner reservation. It’s utterly peculiar that you would both happen to forget about the same thing. Today’s turning out a lot stranger than he’d ever expected. “How’d you find out?”

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and show him the email confirmation.

Dear Mr and Mrs. Nanami,

Thank you for making a reservation with us at Gary Danko. As a reminder, your reservation is for two people at 8:00 PM this Friday.

If you have any questions concerning your reservation, please feel free to contact us. We look forward to serving you!

Thank you,

The Gary Danko Team

“This is… strange,” Nanami notes, studying the little screen.

“Very,” you agree.

“Should we cancel?”

“Should we?”

“I –”  Nanami’s stomach grumbles, putting a pause on your conversation.

With a chuckle, you slide your phone back into your pocket. “Never mind. We can talk about it during dinner,” you say, helping your husband out of his suit jacket. As the blazer comes off, you affectionately rub a few circles on his back, feeling his posture relax under your touch. Honestly, he works too hard. You always tell him this but he really should take a few days off and drive down to the beach – maybe with you, if he’d like – and forget about the world for a while. God knows he could use the rest.

Nanami hums in approval. “You go on first.” He kisses your forehead before gesturing at the briefcase on the floor. “I should put this away.”

The moment you disappear into the dining room, Nanami moves his briefcase onto the coffee table and brings the bouquet of pink peonies out from their place behind the sofa, this time holding them behind his back. A reservation neither of us remembers, he suddenly thinks as he strolls quietly towards the dining room. Truly odd. Tucking the thought away in his mind (there’s always time to figure out mysteries like these), Nanami calls out, “Actually, honey, there’s a reason why I came home late today.”

“I was just about to ask. What was it?” You’re almost done setting the table when Nanami walks through the archway with a bouquet of flowers almost as broad as his shoulders.

“Holy shit.”

He laughs, filling the room with its bell-like sound. “For the lady.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walk over and take the bouquet from his arms, cradling it like a baby. Each petal is fresh and alive and so vibrantly pink. It’s obvious that a lot of care went into this bouquet, and it only touches you further that your husband went to such lengths to guarantee you’d only get the best flowers possible. “Thank you, darling. What’s the special occasion?”

“No occasion,” Nanami says, shrugging. “Just that I love you. And I wanted to remind you that, even on days where nothing happens and it feels like we’re just going through the motions –” he takes your free hand and hunches over to kiss the ring on your fourth finger “– knowing I get to share every day with you gives me joy to look forward to.”

Happy marriage. It’s true and that’s all there is to say about it.

You’re unable to form words. Nanami Kento, the subtle, quiet lover, being loud with affection for once. An indescribable warmth spreads all throughout your body. “Ken…” Tears prick at your eyes as you set the bouquet down on the table and rush into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “I love you,” you murmur in his ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you. Thank you.”

Nanami grins, cradling your face in his large palms. “I should do this more often,” he says, letting out a breathy chuckle when you nod instantly. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on – ” You cut him off with a slow but eager kiss, snaking your arms around his neck and tugging him closer to deepen it. If Nanami had been surprised by your interruption he doesn’t show it – his lips, soft and plump, move in complete synchronization with yours. He tastes like tea and honey and he smells like he always does, of wood and spice and the beach. It’s intoxicating and completely dangerous how irresistible he is and you can’t get enough of him.

The truth is, every real kiss with Nanami feels like the first. And you can never get enough. But you are running out of air, so you break the kiss first and rest your forehead against his, feeling his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, stroking his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my husband.”

Nanami quirks one corner of his mouth up and covers your hand with his, turning his head to kiss its palm. “If I had another life to live after this one, I’d marry you in that one, too.”

A prolonged growl from Nanami’s stomach interrupts your sweet moment.

“I think your stomach objects.”

“Maybe we should shove something down it, like dinner.”

Grinning, you slip out of your husband’s reach and beckon him to follow you into the kitchen.

“This salmon is delicious,” Nanami remarks, taking another bite off his fork.

“Thank you,” you beam. “I found a recipe while I was at work today and thought I’d try it out. Honey garlic salmon. My life is forever changed and so is yours, by extension. You’re welcome.”

Nanami chuckles, ready to respond with a dry comment about ‘having no choice,’ but then that odd email you’d shown him earlier resurfaces in his mind. “Speaking of changes. Should we cancel that Gary Danko reservation?”

You hum, thinking back to the letter as you chew. It seems like the most logical thing to do. After all, neither of you remembers making the reservation. The ambiguity surrounding its existence is unsettling enough to warrant cancellation, but something in you just wants to see what might happen. Swallowing your food, you say, “Don’t you think it’s strange that it has our names on it? I think we should consider going.”

“What if it’s a scam?”

“Then we go home, order Indian takeout, and watch a war documentary until we both fall asleep.”

Unconvinced, Nanami sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, the navy fabric of his button-up tightening around his muscles. “We should call them first, figure out if they know anything.”

“You’re right,” you say, and then you pause before adding, “And if they don’t?”

You’re done speaking but Nanami knows that sentence isn’t finished, and that the other unspoken half is: can we still go? The truth is – and he’s told you many times – that your unpredictability is the most predictable thing about you. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, eyes darting across your face as he contemplates his answer.

It’s not that Nanami is an overprotective husband or needlessly suspicious of every odd thing in life. It’s that he somehow cannot remember a single second of his life before today, the same day this email arrived. To be more accurate, he feels like he has those memories inside him. Somewhere, deep in his brain, he vaguely remembers what things like a “fifth birthday” or “first wedding anniversary” look like. They just feel out-of-reach. Regardless, he’s absolutely certain that things aren’t exactly right. But you look so excited and utterly unaware of his predicament, so it must be something only he’s experiencing and he doesn’t want to burden you with this problem.

“If you really want to go, then we’ll go,” Nanami concludes, taking a sip of his wine. “After all, the wife…”

“… is always right,” you finish for him. “Well, sometimes the husband is, too, but in this specific context, for unspecified reasons, the wife is most definitely correct.” The grin on your face almost puts his worries to rest.

(Almost.)

You call Gary Danko after dinner and they confirm your reservation.

“Sorry if this sounds, um, weird, but would you mind reminding me when we made this reservation?” you ask, walking in circles around the kitchen.

“Not at all!” Some typing noises travel through the receiver before the man you were talking to says, “Actually, you didn’t make the reservation.”

You make eye contact with Nanami who’s lightly rinsing the plates from dinner. “Pardon?”

“No, it was a Miss Amanda Priestly who called us and reserved the table for you two days ago on October 31st. Does that name sound familiar?”

Nanami raises his brows. That’s your boss.

“Um, yeah. I know her, thank you,” you say, frowning. What on earth is your boss doing reserving tables at Michelin-rated restaurants for you and your husband?

“She left a message, too, in case you were, quote, ‘confused,’ unquote. She says, ‘Mimsy, thank you for your help on the Modish Winter look book. Dinner is on me. Kisses, AP.’”

And suddenly, everything falls into place. All those late nights you spent analyzing old trends and predicting the next season’s rush into your memory. For a month, you pretty much lived in your office down the hall from your editor-in-chief. You barely even had time to sleep. It makes sense that Amanda would show her thanks for the effort you put into the project, but you hadn’t expected her to. After all, she’s Amanda Priestly. She still calls you Mimsy instead of your real name.

“Oh, of course!” you laugh, looking over at Nanami. He sends you a curious look before putting the rinsed plates into the dishwasher. “Thank you for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

The call ends and you tuck your phone in your pocket as you say, “Mystery solved.”

“Hmm,” Nanami says, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “The Modish Winter Look Book. For some reason, I don’t remember you working on that.” In fact, he doesn’t remember you working at a magazine company at all, although he can’t put his finger on what job he used to think you had. What is going on?

“Really?” you ask, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers together. “You don’t remember that time I ran into our office with four different tweed blazers and asked which one looked the most wintery?”

Nanami furrows his brows as a memory comes back to him. It was a sunny morning in early November when you ran into the home office with two blazers draped over each arm and forced him to rank them based on how well they exuded “winter energy.” Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing, just that the one with more blue seemed most appropriate for wintertime.

“I just remembered,” he says, a look of amused confusion coming over his features. Today has been so strange. “Did the blue blazer make it to the final look?”

“One moment,” you say, disappearing into the living room and returning with an advanced, rough copy of Modish’s Winter Fashion Edition. “It’s not out yet, but…” you trail off as you flip through the pages, pointing when you get to the one you were looking for “… here’s your contribution to the magazine.”

The blue blazer, in all its glory, smack dab in the middle of the section that says “TRENDS TO SAY GOODBYE TO.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, you predicted something,” you giggle, placing a hand on his chest. “Fashion might be your calling, Ken.”

He smiles wryly. “I’m hanging up.”

[brostateexam]

Ekman’s work was controversial from the start. In an essay on his trajectory as a researcher, he recounts that during a presentation of his research at the American Anthropological Association in the late 1960s, a colleague shouted that he was a fascist. His research, many argue, does not make space for the role of cultural differences and learned behavior, and it leans too heavily on the idea of biology as destiny; his suggestion that interior states can be easily read through the face has traces of phrenology. Worryingly, this latter concern has affected Ekman’s work with the TSA, the Department of Defense, and other institutions, where his theory is incorporated into AI models and surveillance techniques—many of which have demonstrable racial biases. His research has also been criticized on methodological grounds: his studies adopted a forced-choice paradigm, where participants were given limited words and limited photos to match. The photos used were the ones Ekman personally felt best displayed each of his “basic emotions” while more ambiguous expressions were excluded, and these images were of simulated emotional expressions rather than authentic emotional experience.

More recently, the Museum of Contemporary Emotions—a project of the Finnish government’s Finland Forward pandemic communications initiative—picked up Ekman’s work as its scaffolding. The Museum, really an interactive website, is a kind of digital archive of experience during the Covid-19 pandemic, styled with the sans-serif aesthetics of a direct-to-consumer startup and the haunting, echoing soundtrack of a post-apocalyptic Catholic Mass. The events of the pandemic are positioned on a timeline—the discovery of the virus, the toilet paper panic, the ban on events, and so on—and a click on any one of them leads to recorded testimony from Finns about the emotions they experienced at that time, along with data visualizations and quick facts (for instance: “oven-baked dishes were popular during the pandemic”). Each event is also assigned a “dominant fundamental feeling” drawn from Ekman’s six. Remote work is identified with surprise. Coronavirus testing: fear. An anti-racism rally: joy.

The Museum’s vision of emotional life is one in which, at any moment, an individual has a “dominant fundamental feeling” of joy, sadness, fear, anger, surprise, or disgust. This model permits some minimal nuance—the Museum allows that, for instance, “when your dominant fundamental feeling is anger, you may feel betrayed, critical, belittling, irritated, humiliated, jealous, or bitter.” But the framing makes clear that it is ultimately (and often nonsensically—is “humiliated,” for instance, more angry than sad? Was the dominant feeling of the anti-racism protests really joy?) dedicated to the idea that all emotional experiences can be distilled down to one of a finite number of basic emotions.

In doing so, the Museum largely neglects the ways that the emotional experience of the pandemic has been unique and context-dependent—that is, the possibility that it has been an occasion for new feelings. Its simplistic assertion that the “emotional world may be traced back” to Ekman’s six “fundamental” emotions is also in service of a bleak argument: that “by being aware of our emotions, we can regulate them and our behavior more easily.” The Museum eliminates the possibility of mixed emotions and new feelings and, in doing so, makes clear that its central goal is not so much documenting the messiness of emotional experience as disciplining it. (x)

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Cassian POV - Chapter 26)

Notes: I’ve had a few of you asking for Cassian’s POV when he saw Nesta dressed for Solstice, so I cobbled this quickly together. As usual, let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fanfic updates (or untagged)...

You can read the original chapter from Nesta’s POV here.

As usual, sorry for any typos!

Each rap of Cassian’s knuckles against the wood of Nesta’s bedroom door magnified his apprehension. His nerves had started to fray as soon as he started to dress in his usual black pants and shirt — his go-to outfit for fancier occasions. Even after years of hounding from Rhys and Mor, Cassian couldn’t bring himself to pin down an extortionately priced tailor to fashion his own clothing. Instead, he was wearing what Mas had lovingly made for him with Illyrian fabric. He had paid her handsomely for it and it had made him feel all the better knowing that she desperately needed the money whereas an over-priced tailor did not.

Cassian had been back in Velaris the evening previous, celebrating the coming of Solstice with his family, and Azriel had winnowed him back to the house in the early hours. Thankfully, the ramifications of Cassian’s one-too-many glasses of wine had bled away with his third plate of breakfast, but to his dismay, the disappearance of a hangover had only paved the way for a heavy sense of dread that he could not shake.

It wasn’t that Cassian wasn’t looking forward to Solstice with Lorrian and Frawley. It was more the memories the day dredged up. Namely Nesta sitting as silent as a ghost during last year’s festivities, and his feigned joviality throughout, which Cassian suspected had done little to fool his family. And then, later, Nesta had become so sharp and so dismissive that his heart still twisted at the recollection. At the memory of his anger when she had rejected him so effectively. When he had hurled that damn box in the Sidra…

The contents of which was now nestled in the front pocket of his pants. Its mere presence was enough to make his heart thump against his ribcage, and knowing he intended to give it to her today… that she might reject it once again…. It made Cassian so nervous he almost contemplated retreating from her door and disappearing into the camp altogether.

But then footsteps sounded across the carpet. The door handle turned. And then Nesta appeared in the doorway in all her devastating glory.

So devastating that heat flushed through Cassian with such intensity his words burst forth in a way that was not at all casual and aloof, “Are you ready?”

An exquisite frown twisted across Nesta’s features. It was one of Cassian’s favourite expressions, namely because of the arrows that formed at the base of her nose. “Am I late?”

She was eyeing him strangely. One hand was held purposefully to the back of her head, holding her braid in place, and the other joined it so she could secure the ends with a golden pin. 

Too late Cassian realised he was standing as if he were waiting to fend off a forthcoming opponent in the sparring ring rather than to remind her that they were supposed to be leaving.

He wanted to change his posture but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not as those mercury eyes slowly raked over his body. Instead, he remained stock still until her eyes flitted to his wings. To his dismay, his wings widened without him bidding them to, as if he was enduring a fucking military inspection and she was his superior.

Never in his life had Cassian been so thankful that neither of his brothers was here to witness him making an utter tit out of himself. They would never let him live it down.

“Am I late?” Nesta asked eventually, when he remained silent.

Cassian watched her hands drop from her hair to smooth down her dress, before she knotted them calmly at her front. Today, her hair was fashioned into a loose half coronet, and golden brown waves fell past her shoulders to give way, not to leathers, but a midnight blue dress that he recognised as one she had worn in Velaris.

But what had really made him breathless, was that Nesta looked healthy. More than healthy. As with anything Nesta wore, the fabric accentuated her flawless curves, but rather than the sharp angles and jutting bone her starved body had lent itself to, the material showcased the weight she had gained. Even her skin glowed because of it, and her eyes… they were bright rather than vacant. She looked so, so beautiful that something turned over inside him, as if everything was clicking into place.

Too late Cassian realised he had been staring. He expected he could only count his lucky stars that his gods damned mouth wasn’t hanging open, too.

Or, Cassian thought grimly, that he had not given in to temptation and slanted his mouth on hers. Not that he thought she wanted him to do that. A knowledge that only served to upset him, so much so, that he did not notice Nesta move until she had swept past him.

“You‘ll need to shield my hair,” Nesta clipped. She floated to the door as if she was walking on nothing but air and lifted her coat off of the hook.

If Cassian was a gentlemale, he would have helped her into her coat. But then again, Nesta had a tendency to snap at him for the slightest wrong manoeuvre and his ego was already damaged today as it was.

“Aren’t we going to be late?” she snapped impatiently, when he continued to stand there. 

She sounded irritable and Cassian wondered if she did not want to be celebrating Solstice at all. That she had perhaps only accepted Lorrian and Frawley’s invitation because she did not want to be impolite when they were both training her.

The thought did nothing to dampen his insecurities, so Cassian did what he did best; he looked for the easiest opportunity to rile her. “Are you going to wear those shoes?”

Nesta’s glare would have had lesser males scarpering. “Yes.”

“They’re not practical for flying,” he told her shortly as he strode to the door.

“I’m not flying, I’m being carried,” Nesta snapped in response. “And is it not custom to dress nicely for Solstice?”

A cruel satisfaction thrummed through Cassian as he felt her power rush beneath her skin. At the opportunity she had provided him with to study her some more.

Slowly, he dragged his eyes over every inch of her, delighting in her hiss of anger.

He bit back a groan.

Fucking hell, she was a divine temptress and he was a complete and utter gone. And to make things worse, he was now going to hold her for the entire journey to Lorrian and Frawley’s and do his best not to give in to that irresistible pull.

“It is custom,” Cassian agreed eventually - tightly - because that was all he could manage without revealing that in over his five hundred years of living, he had never been so completely consumed by someone in his entire life.

A short nod from Nesta as she wound a scarf around her neck. “Don’t set me down in any mud or snow and I won’t find it in myself to set you on fire.”

At that, Cassian snorted. He had no doubt she’d be setting him on fire very soon. Especially when she realised that tomorrow they would have a pretence to upkeep. That she would be sharing a bed with him whether she liked it or not.

Hauling the front door open, Cassian stepped outside. The weather was so cold it was like a slap to the face, but he merely flared his siphons and allowed his armour to click into place scale by scale.

When he held out his hand to Nesta, she took it with little more than a glare, and he dared to pull her closer, moulding her to his body as if they were two puzzle pieces that slot together. 

For a fraction of a moment, Cassian paused, allowing himself to relish in the steady beat of Nesta’s heart and the scent of jasmine and vanilla. To marvel over the way her hand closed around his arm rather than acting like a lifeless, vacant doll.

Then, Cassian spread his wings wide and sprung them into the air.

Tags: @arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775  @iwastoowildinthe70s @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @san-y-a-blog

[dinoshimaaa]

@shxnosuke here's your one month late kita fic xoxo sorry it's kinda messy i wrote this at 11 last night

-

amongst all of kita’s many attractive qualities, he takes pride in his ability to be decisive the most. being decisive is like second nature to him. as the captain of his volleyball team, he’s used to making spontaneous decisions quickly and effectively.

ah, but how weird. the one time he needs his decisiveness now; is the one time he can’t find it.

or, simply put: kita shinsuke can’t decide which flower to get you.

he very clearly remembers atsumu screaming at him, in the gym after practice earlier: “whadd’ya mean ya haven’t gotten her flowers yet, kita-san? it’s literally her birthday!” which earned a kick from his twin telling him to shut up. kita did not want to elaborate further on the fight that escalated, and it wasn’t like he had time to do so anyway. nightfall was approaching, fast, and if he wanted to get to your place on time before you went to bed he’d have to decide right now.

did you like purple flowers? or did you prefer yellow ones instead? he really should have asked you way before this day. even the kind lady running the shop seemed to be a little impatient watching him loiter around, touching flowers here and there, mumbling to himself while not actually purchasing anything.

“is there a certain someone whom you are buying for? if yes, perhaps you could tell me what the occasion is and i might help,” the florist offers helpfully, and kita takes a moment to consider before mumbling a “yes”.

“on your left is our newest arrival of roses,” the florist smiles. “imported from bulgaria, the beautiful red of its petals represent passionate and undying love.”

kita hears atsumu’s voice in his head, telling him to “get yer girlfriend roses! they’re the most romantic of them all.”

the florist points to another batch at the back, “over there are some red carnations, whose meaning is love and affection; perfect for love confessions.”

“get her carnations,” kita hears osamu’s drawl now, “red carnations are innocent and sweet, perfect for yer current relationship with yer girlfriend.”

“and right here are our customers’ all-time favourite: tulips! they represent true love. not only are they in season now, making them bloom much more exquisitely compared to the rest, but they’re also perfect for any romantic occasion.”

“tulips,” aran’s voice is next. “i see my dad give my mom tulips all the time. might be me being biased, but they fit her really well.”

roses, carnations, tulips. roses, carnations, or tulips. oh, what to do? flower language was much more complicated than kita thought, his head slightly spinning from the weird flower meanings. splitting atsumu and osamu up from a fight right now would be way easier than deciding on the perfect flower to give you.

kita glances at his watch again: 10.50pm. he was not going to wish you a happy birthday before the end of today if he didn’t dash out of the store now. defeated, he glumly thanks the florist for her help, and she wishes him good luck on his search.

meanwhile, back in your house, you’re pouting and glaring at your phone screen, the slice of cake left half-eaten and pushed to the side as you check for a message from kita every 5 minutes. the least he could do was to send you a birthday message, but it was already nearing eleven, and if you didn’t sleep any earlier than that, you were sure to sleep in tomorrow’s super interesting history class. on top of that, you hadn’t seen kita today at all, with him being pre-occupied with volleyball captain duties. ah, but was it so much to wish that your boyfriend was decent enough to wish you a happy birthday?

grumbling, you shut off your phone for what you told yourself to be the last time, and prepared to get ready for bed when you heard a knock on your door. not expecting much, given today’s events, you open the door with an indifferent expression that soon morphs to delight when you see kita in front of your door.

you don’t miss the way he pants as he steps into your house, “sorry for barging in, and sorry for being late, happy birthday, dear.”

giving him an amused smile, you reply, “you didn’t give me a birthday message. i got so worried.”

“ah,” kita might’ve forgotten about that amongst the panic about what to get as a birthday gift for you. guilt falls into his usuall stoic face, and he drops his head onto your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck, “i’m terribly sorry about that. my mind was preoccupied with what to get you as a birthday gift, and it had slipped my mind. i’ll make it up to you, i promise.”

“kita, oh kita,” you sigh, an exasperated but doting smile creeping up your lips. cupping his cheeks with both hands, you look at him in the eye and tell him sincerely, “all i wanted was for you to wish me a happy birthday.”

“that still won’t do,” kita argues, still feeling guilty. “i didn’t manage to get a gift today, but i’ll make it up to you tomorrow. i’ll clear my whole schedule. i’ll wrap up work twice as fast so there’s more time for you. is there a restaurant you wanted to go to? we’ll go there tomo—”

you laugh, and it lifts kita’s spirits just a little. oh, how he loves your laughs.

“kita,” you coo, your hands now squishing his cheeks, “i’d like for you to stay here tonight with me. is that okay?” your cheeks are now turning red, an obvious sign that you are getting flustered by your own invitation. “o-of course you don’t have to agree, i understand your grandma is waiting and you don’t have any spare uniforms here and—”

“i’ll call to inform her, it’s fine,” he reassures you, removing your hands from his cheeks and resorting to caressing them. he gazes at you with such a hazy, lovestruck look in his eyes that comes as a huge contrast to his usual sharp gaze— normally you’d say “surprise”, but after dating him for so long, you’ve gotten used to his soft side shown to you and only you.

you smile, squeezing his hands, and he watches your lips curl up more when he kisses your cheek. he checks the time: 11.15pm. there’s still time.

“love?”

“hm?”

“happy birthday.”

[lizaloveslevihan]

if you have some angsty writing energy rn: hc where jean notices that hange hasn’t fully grieved or come to terms with erwin and moblit’ deaths, so he gets over his fear of levi to ask him with how to help hange because he’s so concerned for her

Title: Hange-san

Ao3 Link: Here

Notes: I also got some inspiration from this beautiful art I saw on Twitter.

They weren’t really close by any standards. Thinking about it, they probably just had two or three conversations the entire time Jean had known him. But his utter devotion was enough to catch anyone’s attention. If he wasn’t screaming at her to take care of herself, he did it silently by running each tiny errand and sticking with her like glue. He always walked by her side — shoulders hunched from obvious stress, hair a little unkempt, but hazel eyes as bright as ever, taking in every word she said despite the obvious dark circles underneath them. It was almost as if her personality and lifestyle were being injected into him, giving him life. 

Jean hadn’t really understood the nature of their relationship before — couldn’t comprehend the idea of someone so willing to put up with Hange-san’s eccentricities and borderline craziness, day in and day out, especially given their slightly above average wages. It hadn’t seemed romantic at first glance by any means (he would have gotten a different vibe from them if it were the case) but rather, it was fueled and strengthened by a strong sense of loyalty and attentiveness. Those in the Survey Corps had dedicated their hearts to fighting titans and ensuring freedom for humanity, and though vice-captain Moblit Berner essentially did the same, it was as if a large chunk of his heart was dedicated only to Hange-san. 

Jean paused, taking that new idea in. He stood outside the newly-appointed commander’s office, the journal he found tucked securely at his side. He had been hesitant to see her, especially after yesterday. She had asked him privately, eyes devoid of any emotion, tone full of anguish, if he could clean and clear out the former vice captain’s room. He understood her pain and had somehow expected this request — they were all grieving, having lost all those people — but he didn’t expect to feel pain over the task given to him. 

His room was neat enough when Jean entered it yesterday morning. The bed was made, the shelves free of dust, and each article of clothing folded neatly inside his small closet. The only thing out of place was his desk which had mountains of paperwork that still lay on top of it. 

He didn’t know him that well. They weren’t really close. But as Jean shuffled through and organized every piece of paper, every work of art, each sketch of an unfamiliar face, he felt his chest tightening. He vaguely remembered the vice-captain being an excellent artist, but he didn’t realize just how talented he was. 

For some reason, he wasn’t surprised to see Hange-san’s face more so than the others. He had drawn her messy hair and wild eyes so perfectly that Jean felt as if he wasn’t worthy to even touch those pieces of paper. Some of them were hastily drawn, some with exquisite detail. He also saw sketches of her with captain Levi, and his eyes widened at one particular portrait where he was drawn gripping his teacup and smiling at her tenderly. 

Damn it, Jean thought as he gingerly placed those papers back down on the desk. He would have loved to take lessons from the vice-captain if he only knew just how amazing he was. He had always been passionate about making art and drawing things he saw in his dreams back when he was younger. But of course, he had buried it in the face of reality. Seeing these sketches lit up a fire inside him. A fire that both consisted of his long-lost passion and the grief and sorrow he had tried to conceal ever since they returned from Shiganshina. He had looked around the room and let out a deep breath. No, he couldn’t allow himself to linger too much on those thoughts. He knew if he kept thinking about the warm, artistic vice-captain, he would be plunged into a deep abyss. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop seeing every single face that they lost, especially him. Especially that warm, freckled face full of joy and compassion. That face which had looked at him with so much respect and admiration.

Shaking his head, he forced his mind to turn blank. He started to stack all those papers neatly on top of one another, finally freeing the desk of its mess. However, that was what exactly led him to find the dreaded journal whose contents would continue to haunt him for the rest of the day. 

Jean shook his head and looked up, staring at the door to her office. He had been plagued by those thoughts since that task. The commander had ordered him to drop all of his things in her office and so far Jean had made two trips without her being in there. He had a feeling, however, she was behind those doors this time around. He internally debated with himself if he should enter now or wait for her to go to town, seeing as she had a meeting with Zackley later today. However, before he could even decide, the door swung open. Jean jumped up, a little startled, and was met with captain Levi’s usual impassive expression. 

“What are you doing here, Jean?” the captain asked, raising an eyebrow. He crossed his arms and lingered at the doorway. 

“I, uh,” Jean started, scratching the back of his neck and trying to keep eye contact as much as possible, “I’m here to hand the commander some of—”

“It’s Hange,” the captain cut him off, now closing the door behind him. “I know you’re obligated to call her by that title, and that’s fine for formal occasions, but I want you to keep calling her what you and the other brats call her as much as possible, alright?”

The captain didn’t elaborate any further, which made Jean a little uneasy. He gripped the journal tighter and nodded. He already had a good feeling as to why he would ask such a thing. 

“At ease,” the captain spoke quietly, placing a hand on Jean’s shoulder. “You and the brats did well.” Jean looked down and saw… pride? relief? emotions that weren’t normally seen behind the captain's light gray eyes. He allowed himself to briefly recall what had happened on the rooftop. How the captain kept moving forward despite all the pain and loss he endured was unbeknownst to Jean. But then again, that’s what all of them have been doing ever since they joined the Survey Corps, wasn’t it? Is this how his life would always be like? Taking in loss after loss and moving forward from each friend? Forced to kill others with no hesitation? Valuing certain lives and sacrificing others? Clearing out each empty bedroom after every mission? As he was nearing that dark abyss, the captain pulled him out by saying: “Don’t blame yourself with what happened with Reiner, alright? If I only had killed him before he transformed, maybe we wouldn’t have been in this goddamn mess.” the captain recalled briefly, shaking his head and scrunching his eyebrows, “Hange’s inside. Don’t linger too much. She still has a lot of things to do.” and with that, he made his way past Jean and went off across the hallway. 

Jean couldn’t help but stare after the captain. He had already come to terms with the fact that it was him who let Reiner get away. That it had all been his fault. But here was the captain, who, the same as Hange-san, took the blame and responsibility for letting the armored and beast titan escape. He felt that it came from more than their positions as superior officers but from their genuine kindness. Their desire to look over everyone. He felt both comforted and pained because of it. 

He also couldn't help but think of what the vice-captain had said about captain Levi in his journal...

He shook his head once again. They needed time. He needed time. He already had enough things to deal with because of the damn journal. With a deep sigh, he walked towards the commander’s office and knocked thrice on the door. After he heard a small, muffled “come in,” he pushed it open and was surprised to see her not behind her desk, but standing by the window, looking out at the training grounds across them.

“I’ve brought the last of his things, Hange-san,” Jean said as he closed the door behind him. When she didn’t respond, he shuffled his feet nervously and looked around the office. Bookshelves were covering both sides of the wall, a large desk pressed at the very back, littered with numerous paperwork and books, and the two large windows on either side of which. It felt a little stuffy if he were being completely honest. He had been to Hange-san’s lab before where things were much more chaotic and disorganized, but much more full of life. This place, well, felt like it didn’t belong to her at all. 

Which was pretty much a given, considering she had just moved in. The place still embodied the late and great Erwin Smith. 

After a few seconds passed, she finally turned around and flashed him a small smile. 

It was obviously forced.

“Thank you, Jean,” she spoke, walking up to him and gently taking the journal from his outstretched hands. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she inspected the object. “I… forgot this existed.”

Jean simply nodded, not really knowing what to say. He still felt incredibly awkward. 

The commander kept looking at the old, worn-out book as she took a seat behind her desk. She still hadn’t removed the bandages that covered her damaged eye. “This was what he always carried around whenever we did the experiments on those titans. Even if we weren’t doing them, actually. I remember him telling me how his life’s work was here, should he die in the field. How I should inherit it, on the assumption that I’d live longer than him…”

Jean would have had no problem with this conversation if only he didn’t open the book and flipped through the pages himself. Yes, he would be pained, but not as pained if he didn’t read through the long letters that the vice-captain had left in that book. If he hadn’t digested every tiny sketch and word. He had no business in doing so, perhaps he could even get punished should Hange-san find out what he had done, but he couldn’t help the curiosity that sparked within him. Only if he could turn back time. He wished he’d never read those letters. It was just too much. 

“He… saved you, didn’t he Hange-san?” Jean muttered respectfully, his body incredibly stiff. She looked up at him, her face just so tired. “When Bertholdt transformed, he pushed you to safety…?”

“I knew it would come to that one day.” the commander said both wistfully and solemnly, “I’ve always been a handful. Careless. Absentminded. Reckless.” she listed off, drumming her fingers on the wooden desk, “I keep getting too close to the mouths of titans. I was more than okay with dying. Especially if it meant I had contributed one way or another to humanity’s freedom. There was this myth I had read before, you know? It was in a storybook meant for children to warn them to never leave the walls.”

At this, she stood up and started walking around the room. “It was a tale of this child who was given wings by his uncle, or was it his father? I couldn’t quite remember. They were trying to escape and leave this tower by flying away. The older man had warned him not to fly too close to the sun, but the boy, being this curious little thing, didn’t listen. Thus, his wings were burned and he fell to his death.” the commander laughed bitterly, her fingers trailing the bookshelves on the left side of the room, “He had always warned me not to fly too close to the sun, Jean. But I still did. Instead of me, it was him who suffered the consequences. It makes me wonder… what if one day, I’ll have this chance again? What if I fly, soaring through the clouds, and my recklessness or heroism or whatever the rest of you would call it, would cause me to fly too close to the sun?”

Jean wanted to leave. He didn’t like the words that were coming out of the commander’s mouth. He wanted to shut himself in his room and maybe sleep this whole thing off. He didn’t want to think about her dying, or anyone for that matter, especially after the loss they were still trying to deal with. That story upset him more than he realized, especially since it didn’t seem too far-fetched at this point, considering all the gruesome deaths he had seen. He knew it was the grief talking and the pressure from her new position, but still, it unnerved him to see someone he always knew was filled with life looking so dead inside. 

“You meant a lot to him, Hange-san,” Jean replied, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. You meant a lot to him more than anyone in this world, if he were being completely honest. “We always want to keep the people we care about safe, sometimes even if it means sacrificing our lives. He will always live on, in you — in us. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

Jean didn’t really know what he was saying — the words he uttered felt meaningless in the grand scheme of things — but he knew they were words that needed to be said. After reading those things, well, he felt as if he needed to give her as much assurance as possible. 

The commander gave him a tight-lipped smile, her remaining eye tearing up. She approached him, and it was only then Jean finally noticed how she had a slight limp in her step. How her shoulders were tight and slumped forward. She placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded at him. “Thank you, Jean. You don’t know how much that means to me. You’re a great kid and I hope you know that you’ve proven to be an invaluable asset to not only the Survey Corps but to humanity as well. And,” Jean met her eye and his chest tightened once again in seeing it glimmer with a sense of pride, “thank you for cleaning Moblit’s room. I could have done it myself but…”

“I understand, Hange-san,” Jean said, his voice surprisingly reassuring despite the overwhelming amount of emotions he felt. She finally said his name. “I really do.”

The commander smiled a little brighter this time — the most genuine one yet, “Thank you.” and Jean felt that statement didn’t only apply to this situation. “Once we settle everything with Zackley, I’ll let you kids take a much-needed break. You mentioned your mother lives in Trost, is that right?”

“Yes, along with the rest of my family,” Jean replied, the prospect of seeing his mother again warming him up. He still wasn’t able to visit her due to the situation at hand, but he was eager to finally do so. He had always been reluctant in the past due to his embarrassment, but now he understood how superficial those fears were. He was so lucky, luckier than most, that he still had a family to go back to at the end of the day. 

The commander nodded before squeezing his shoulder. “Make sure the rest of your squad finishes up their reports, alright? I want them on my desk tomorrow morning.” 

“Understood, Hange-san.” Jean nodded in return, offering her a small smile. 

She finally stepped away and Jean took this opportunity to carefully walk to the door. However before he could open it, the commander called him once more. 

“Don’t blame yourself over anything, alright?” she said, crossing her arms, her voice now laced with a sense of authority, “It was always my decision. It was always my responsibility. I hope you remember that.”

He felt a knife pierce at his heart from her words — the same words the captain had told him no less than twenty minutes ago. He recalled the letters he had read from the vice captain’s journal and Jean couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He wondered briefly if he should get Hange-san to leave for her meeting with Zackley first before opening up the book and reading through everything in it, something Jean was sure she was going to do once he left her alone. But how could he possibly tell her without causing suspicion? How could he possibly tell her that whatever she was about to read could potentially break her? More so than she already was?

He couldn’t, because he shouldn’t have read those things in the first place. He shouldn’t have let his curiosity get the best of him. So instead, he simply nodded and quietly muttered a “thank you” before leaving. 

He went down the other hallway to make sure he wouldn’t come across captain Levi. He needed to clear his thoughts before he could face them anytime soon. Jean wondered what his reaction would be if he read those letters as well. He let out a large sigh. Either way, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as Hange-san’s.

*******

The next couple of days had been surprisingly normal enough. They had filed reports, went into countless meetings after the other to discuss the situation regarding what they had found in Shiganshina, all the while still sending letters to each family who had lost a member in the battle. He didn’t see much of the commander other than the times they had to present themselves to Zackley, during which she acted completely fine — delivering each line with that of a smooth and authoritative manner. Other than that, she was gone — either in her office or delivering each letter of condolence personally. When he heard of that, his respect for her had grown even more immensely. She was an unbelievably kind and compassionate leader, and Jean felt even more honored to be working with her. 

The promised day-off eventually came. Hange-san could only give everyone three days, seeing as recruits were going to be entering the Corps soon which meant Jean and the rest of his friends had to work on training them. Either way, he was glad to be getting some time to spend with his family. His mother was for sure going to dote on him to no end, but surprisingly, he was looking forward to it. 

Already dressed in his civilian attire with his carry-on pack by his shoulder, Jean made his way to the commander’s office once more to inform them of his departure. He had visited Sasha earlier at the hospital and was pleased to know that she would be discharged later today and would be going to her family straight after. He offered to wait for her and drop her off himself, still wary of her injury, but Connie had offered to do it in his place. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin having no place to go opted to go around town for the day, and Floch had already left to visit his own family which basically meant Jean was the only one left in headquarters. 

He finally rounded the corner and was about to knock on the old wooden door when he heard a loud crash followed by a screaming match. He immediately stepped back, feeling his blood run cold at the sounds. Only two people could possibly be behind those doors, and he didn’t like that he was hearing any of these things right now. He was lucky that the doors were thick enough to muffle the details of their conversation or their screaming match, but he still picked up on certain sentences.

“He would know exactly what to do next!”

“You’re not supposed to be him! Don’t you understand that?!”

Should I just leave? Make a run for it? Hange-san would surely understand, Jean thought to himself, panic building up in his chest. He recalled that time in his childhood where his parents would fight over food or jobs or whatever adults had fought about. He always felt uncomfortable and disheartened, thinking his parents hated each other and would never get along again. He didn’t like seeing the ugly things that had transpired between them. However, before he could even decide, the door suddenly slammed open, but this time, instead of captain Levi, Hange-san came out, walking briskly and angrily. She didn’t even notice Jean standing there and moved past him, shoulders scrunched together, a frustrated hand running through her already messy hair. 

“Oi! Hange!” captain Levi exclaimed, suddenly appearing by the door frame, running a hand through his hair as well. The bags under his eyes were deeper, as usual, his cravat loose around his neck. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but it was obvious it was not in a good way. He was about to kick the door frame when he finally noticed Jean. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

His voice was a little hoarse, and a chill ran down Jean’s spine as he took all of it in. This was too personal, this was none of his business, and so why was he getting roped in again? 

“I was just about to report my departure to Hange-san—”

“Well, she’s obviously not here anymore,” the captain cut off in frustration, his eyes narrowing up at him. Jean didn’t like how he was seeing a new side to captain Levi, didn’t like seeing him so frustrated and lost. “Goddamnit what have I done…” he muttered to himself.

Jean could have just told him he was leaving. He could have just nodded and excused himself, headed straight to the stables, and made his way back to Trost. They would eventually forget about this incident as it would cool down, and all would be well. 

But Jean remembered the letters. He remembered those words. He remembered her tired, broken expression from days ago. Jean knew what it was like to be a leader — to have people look up to you and count on you. He knew how it felt to think you weren't good enough, to think you weren’t special and how people shouldn’t trust you because you lacked certain skills or that you weren’t perfect enough. He looked at the captain, stared right into those intimidating gray eyes, and felt a surge of confidence within him. 

“Captain, you know her better than anyone else,” Jean spoke, reiterating the Moblit Berner’s words, “What can I do to help her?”

The captain was slightly taken aback by Jean’s words. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, studying him carefully. “Why are you—”

“Because I care about her.” Jean said firmly, “And I respect her. And I want to help.”

Captain Levi simply stared at him. Jean would be lying if he said he didn’t feel awkward. They were still soldiers, after all. Captain Levi was still his superior officer, and having heart-to-heart conversations was something they didn’t essentially do. There wasn’t any room for sharing feelings — it opened up vulnerability and that was something you couldn’t have out in the field. Especially since the battlefield they now had was much wider than before. 

Jean was prepared to get shrugged off. He was prepared to leave without getting any answers. But the captain had sighed, fixed the cravat around his neck, and spoke softly: “Come inside.”

It was now Jean’s turn to be taken aback. Nevertheless, he followed the captain inside and was even more taken aback by the sight in front of him. 

The commander’s desk and seat were turned upside down, forcibly, he presumed, with books and papers scattered around it. He stopped in the middle of the room and heard the captain sigh as he closed the door behind him. “Help me fix this shit, Jean. I can’t have this lying around here.”

Jean didn’t ask any more questions. He already knew the answers as to how this had happened. He wanted to know why, of course, to satisfy his curiosity, but at the same time, he didn’t. He dropped his satchel on the floor and proceeded to pick up the scattered papers and books, making sure not to step on them as much as possible. The captain also did the same, kneeling down and gathering everything in his arms. Once they were finished, they placed everything on the corner of the room, underneath the right window, and started to turn the desk upright once more. Jean took one side, the captain taking the other, and together they lifted and placed it back where it had originally sat. After which, Jean took the chair and pushed it back against it while the captain took the books and paper and placed everything neatly the desk. They worked in silence the entire time — the friction from their fight or whatever had happened in here a few moments ago, still lingered and Jean was afraid to pierce through it. 

“I had served under two commanders,” the captain said suddenly as he filed through each piece of paper. Jean looked up and stared at him. “Shadis was alright — you already know most of his story anyway, but he was still a good leader. He had the drive, but still lacked some of the talents. And then Erwin came along…”

Captain Levi let out a deep sigh as he started inserting some of the papers in between the pages of a book. “Erwin... was a special man. He was one of the greatest assets to humanity. I don’t think I really need to tell you any more now, do I?”

He was right. Erwin Smith had been a special man. He was one of the greatest minds Jean had ever seen. He was an incredible strategist, an inspirational and respectable figure — all that and more. He had a feeling, however, that it wasn’t really about that. Jean was sure the captain just didn’t want to talk about him in general, at the moment. And really, who could blame him? Especially after what had happened on the rooftop? 

Jean shook his head and looked down. A few tense seconds passed before the captain continued: “He never made any miscalculations. We all had a feeling Hange would be next in line and we had been right. Hange was the only one who had stood up to him, the one to push forward ridiculous and extreme ideas that could have gotten all of us killed. She thought differently and wanted to look at things from a different perspective. Hange…” at this, Jean looked up to see the captain’s expression light up, “was always the best choice. All of us knew this. All of us but her.”

He sighed and started to mindlessly look through some of the books now. “It’s not easy, being in her position. She thinks she doesn’t deserve it. But she does. I’ve been with Hange for a long time now, Jean. I know you brats are there, but we’re the only ones who just… have each other left. She was there when I had first entered the Corps and had been with me ever since. But Erwin and Moblit? They had been with her way before I was ever in the picture.”

It was the first time he had mentioned the vice captain’s name, and Jean had to stop himself from thinking too much about the letters again. One would think he’d get over it at this point, but it was much harder than he thought. 

He continued once more: “Anyway, I’ve never been good with this shit, Jean. But you brats are just real nosey, huh?” he said, and Jean couldn’t tell if he was being serious or playful — maybe both. “The truth is, you being concerned and sticking your nose up to where it doesn’t belong is already helpful. You being here, following each command, and being the leader that you are is helpful. Just by staying alive, you’re already helpful. You, well, you’re already fucking helpful if you ask me. Hange knows this, and it may not look like it, but she’s thankful for all the little shit you and the brats do.”

It had taken him a few seconds to fully understand what the captain had meant, but he eventually did. Jean didn’t know what kind of answer he was expecting, but those words flowed through his heart and made him feel good inside. He didn’t realize he was already doing enough. He was just doing the bare minimum, wasn't he? But the captain had a point. If he continued to stay by their side, to stay by Hange-san’s side and follow her wherever she had lent them, then it could help erase the doubts she had regarding her position. Just by staying alive, he was helping her feel better. Just by being there for as long as possible — just like Moblit and Erwin, like captain Levi — was enough. 

But he also had a feeling that the captain didn’t want him, or any of his friends, to worry about their situation. He couldn’t explain it, but those were just the sort of parents did for their children. And though Jean would probably never admit it, Hange-san and the captain were quickly stepping up to be parental figures to them already. 

The captain finally took out a single piece of paper from the stacks and held it up slightly. Jean saw it had been the sketch of him and Hange-san, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. 

“Vice-captain Moblit was really talented, wasn’t he?” Jean finally spoke up. The captain nodded in front of him and traced the outline of Hange-san’s smiling face on paper. 

Captain Levi’s lips twitched a little upright. “He really was.”

*******

Though the journey back home was a long and tedious one, Jean was grateful to have had the time to himself to ponder on his thoughts. Captain Levi ordered him, or was it a friendly suggestion? not to speak about this to Hange-san. He then parted to look for her which enabled Jean to finally leave. 

He thought a lot about the letters, about the myth Hange-san had told him days ago, about the captain’s words, and even about the late commander Erwin.

The sun was setting when he had arrived home. As he passed through the neighborhood he grew up in, he couldn't help but feel both excited and terrified. The threat of the titans was now over, right? But now they were facing an even bigger menace. Would his home be safe? Would the people they had fought so long to protect inside the walls be safe? 

“Jean-boy!”

He turned and saw her face. She stood at the front of their house which surprisingly looked the same after all this time. She was excitedly waving her hand, and once he got closer, he saw that tears were falling from her eyes. Once he stopped in front of her, he quickly dismounted his horse and enveloped him in her arms. 

“You’ve grown so big! Oh my boy!” she exclaimed, clutching the back of his shirt and pressing her face against his chest. Jean hugged her back eagerly and tried his best not to let his emotions take over. But it had been a long couple of days. His body still ached from the battle, his brain was consumed by too many thoughts, and his heart still grieved the lives of all of the people they had lost. He couldn’t believe he had taken her warmth and comfort for granted so many times. Who did he think he was, trying to shove her out of his life because he didn’t want to be embarrassed? 

“I’m home, mom,” he said, finally closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. She laughed happily before disentangling herself a little, looking up at him to study his face. Her eyes were watery, the lines around them having deepened. Her hair also started to have gray streaks and Jean felt his heart ache at the sight of her much older form. “I have your favorite already waiting for you in the kitchen. I also cleaned your room so you better change and wash up before we eat dinner, alright? I’m so glad you’re here my Jean-boy.” she said, hugging him again. 

He truly was home. 

*******

A wave of nostalgia hit him the moment he had entered his childhood room. True to her word, everything was neat and tidy. His bed was made, desk free of any clutter, and the window was left a little open to let some of the breezes go in. He exhaled, closing the door behind him and moving to lay on his bed. He was both physically and emotionally exhausted and wanted nothing more now than to close his eyes and sleep. He wondered what the others were doing at this very moment. They had been through together so much that it felt weird not to have any of them near him. It was probably the first time in a long time he was going to sleep in his bed, in his own room, without anyone else around. Letting out a deep sigh, he willed himself to stand up, grab the satchel he had brought with him, and place the contents atop his desk. 

As he rummaged through his things, he wondered if there was something he still could do for Hange-san. Though he took the captain’s words to heart, he couldn’t help but feel like doing something for her either way. Something that wasn’t too outrageous that would give her the wrong idea. Something that he himself would do, something that was uniquely his. Afterall, the captain said that just by doing what he did, he would be able to help. He eventually found his answer when he opened one of the drawers of his desk and found his old sketches and art supplies from long ago.

He immediately stopped what he was doing and gingerly took out his old artworks. The passion he felt was still there, tingling the back of his neck as he stared at the portrait of the woman he had seen in his dreams. His lips tightened as he realized that the woman he had drawn resembled Mikasa so much. He really only had eyes for her from the very beginning, huh? Shaking his head, he looked through some of his old work and realized then and there exactly what he needed to do. 

He may not be as good as the vice-captain, but it was the least he could do. Besides, maybe once he went through with this little project, he would finally be able to release all his thoughts about this matter. He was relieved to see there was still some paper and pencils left. Nodding his head, he closed the window, placed the papers back down, and proceeded to change into a cleaner and much more comfortable shirt. He’ll have time to do this later after dinner. But for now, there some much-needed time to be spent with his family. 

*******

He found himself back in front of the commander’s office once again, days later. This time, he carried with him two scrolls of paper. He stopped and listened intently, making sure no one was arguing behind the doors before knocking. 

He let himself in the moment he heard Hange-san’s voice. She was seated behind her desk, finally sporting a dark patch on her injured eye. “Ah, welcome back, Jean. Did you need anything from me?” she asked as Jean closed the door behind him. 

“I just came by to drop some things off for you, Hange-san,” he spoke lightly, feeling incredibly nervous. He scratched the back of his head as he approached her quietly. 

She looked so much better this time around. She had discarded her military coat and her bolo tie was tied securely around her neck for the world to see. Her glasses were impeccably clean and gleamed when she looked up at him, her hair nicely framing her face. She seemed much more relaxed, and it didn’t feel like when she was going through meetings and such where she acted fine. This time, she actually did look genuinely alright and at peace. 

Jean wondered how she and the captain had spent those three days. He had a feeling, once again, that they had spent it together. He could tell that the captain had something to do with the improved state she was currently in. Either way, Jean was happy to see her like this. 

“I… had seen vice-captain Moblit’s sketches,” Jean started right off at the bat, not wanting to make a bigger deal out of this than it already was. He saw more than the sketches, of course, but she didn’t need to know that. The commander didn’t look upset or surprised, which made Jean continue: “And I had been sort of an artist too, you see, but obviously not as good as him.”

He carefully handed her the two scrolls of paper, and she raised an eyebrow before taking it from his grasp. “When I returned home and saw my old work, I realized that I wanted to do something for you, Hange-san. No one put me up to this, and I hope, for my sake, you don’t tell the others.”

He added that last part, a light blush dusting his cheeks. If any of his friends found out about his old hobby, they would tease him to no end and demand to see some of his old work. 

She carefully inspected the two scrolls before putting down the second one and gingerly opening the first. She gasped, her hand flying straight to her mouth as she looked on and stared at the portrait in front of her. 

“Oh Jean…” she said, her voice cracking with emotion, “I can’t believe you did this.”

Jean had a pretty good memory of things. He remembered the vice captain’s worried, concerned face. He remembered the former commander’s authoritative expression. And of course, how could he forget captain Levi’s tiny smirk or Hange-san’s bright eyes?

It felt awkward, putting those visions on paper. He felt his heart clench at the sight of his portraits. But he powered through, and Hange-san’s expression made it all worth it. 

She traced her fingers over the etched lines. She lingered, he noticed, over commander Erwin’s and vice-captain Moblit’s face. She smiled and laughed brightly as tears now streamed from her remaining eye. Jean had drawn them all together, side by side, arms around one another. It had been a product of his imagination, but he had to admit it wasn’t as bad as he thought. 

“Why? How?” she said, her voice breaking. She placed down the paper and gently removed her glasses to wipe some of the tears from her face. 

Jean looked down and shuffled his feet, “He never really had any portraits of all of you together. I thought well, that shouldn’t be the case.”

“Do I even want to know what’s in the other one?” she said teasingly before clearing her throat and putting her glasses back on. Her smile was absolutely infectious, and Jean was happy it was seemingly etched permanently onto her face. 

“I think you do,” he said, clearing his throat as well. That particular portrait was the first one he had finished, and he loved how it had turned out. He was also grateful for the creative outlet. He had to admit, he missed indulging in these kinds of things. Who knew when the next time he’d be able to do something like this again? 

Hange-san laughed — a bright and beautiful melody that continued to light up the room. She shifted her attention to the unopened scroll, picked it up, and proceeded to unroll it. However, unlike the first one, she remained silent, her eyes widening at the sight. A few minutes had passed before she pursed her lips, her fingers shaking a little, before rolling it back up and setting it back down on her desk. She studied Jean carefully, and he could tell that perhaps she was picking up on the idea that he may have read those letters. Nevertheless, she stood up, shook her head, and quickly strolled to him and hugged him. 

“Thank you, Jean,” she said after a few seconds, and Jean allowed himself to snake his hands behind her and hug her back. He closed his eyes and a small part of him reprimanded himself for being so soft, for sticking his nose into other people’s business, for doing all of these rather embarrassing things. But life was short. He needed to express his feelings to others before it was too late. He needed to tell people he cared about them before it was too late. He felt the magnitude of her gratitude from those small, common words. From the way she had tightly clutched the back of his shirt. They pulled away — the hug being a rather brief and short thing, just as captain Levi entered the room. 

“What are you two doing?” he asked, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms. Jean turned around to see a curious and wary expression on his face. Hange-san laughed behind him, and Jean then and there witnessed how the captain softened at the sound. His shoulders relaxed, his lips parted slightly, and his eyes gleamed in wonder. 

“Nothing,” Hange-san sang as she approached him. “Are you ready to go?”

“The horses are already waiting for us,” the captain said gruffly, but Jean could tell he was pleasantly surprised by the commander’s tone and attitude. “What are you and Jean—”

“I’ll tell you later, okay?” she spoke heartily, moving to grab her civilian coat from the coat stand by the door. “We’ll be meeting with some of the press, alright Jean? We’ll be back later tonight. I believe Levi over here is planning on cooking for everyone.”

“Oi! That was supposed to be a secret!” the captain exclaimed, his eyes sneering at her. Hange-san shrugged before approaching Jean and laying a hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him once again which Jean reciprocated. She whispered another “thank you” before patting his head affectionately. “Please don’t tell the others, Hange-san,” he spoke quietly, only for her to hear. 

“I won’t.” she assured, “But you have to know that I can’t keep anything from this grump right here,” she said, her head tilting towards the captain’s direction. 

“What are you idiots talking about?” the captain eyed suspiciously, moving to approach them. 

“I know.” Jean scoffed, his eyes gleaming. Hange-san nodded before swiftly looping her arm around the captain’s and dragging him out the room. “Come on! We’re going to be late!”

Jean followed them out the door and saw their figures moving down the hallway. Captain Levi stopped her suddenly as if asking her once again what she and Jean had been doing. The commander laughed before patting his head affectionately which then made the captain gently kick her leg. He then started to inspect her coat, straightening it out before buttoning the front. Jean shook his head at the soft and sweet gesture in front of him. He looked back inside the office to where the drawings he had and quietly went back in and approached the desk. 

He carefully lifted the second scroll and opened it. He didn’t really know what kind of reaction he was expecting from Hange-san, but so far she didn’t really give away anything obvious. He was certain that she had read those letters. But it felt as if she just wanted to move on from them, and thinking about it, that would be the best course of action wasn’t it? 

He stared at the portrait. They weren’t really close by any standards. Thinking about it, they probably just had two or three conversations the entire time Jean had known him. But his utter devotion was enough to catch anyone’s attention. Jean hoped he was able to catch them and had translated it properly on paper. There were hundreds of sketches of Hange-san and everyone else, but there weren’t any of just them together. He had drawn him the way he knew him — face scrunched up in concern as he looked onto her. He had a hand placed on her shoulder, and Hange-san was laughing at whoever was in front of her. 

Slowly, with his other hand that wasn’t holding the portrait, Jean placed a fist over his heart in a salute. 

Thank you for dedicating your heart. 

 *******

Dear Buntaichou, 

I’ve decided to start writing to you like this in the event I should get a heart attack and die from your irresponsibility. I also needed to let out my frustration through a healthy matter. I really don’t understand as to why you would charge headfirst into a forest, all by yourself, and try to capture a titan. How you managed to get away with screaming at the commander and still having all your limbs attached today is a miracle. I’m glad Captain Levi and his squad were able to intervene and help stop you from getting eaten. I’m glad you’re okay. At this time, you’re currently locked in your room, devouring whatever is inside the notebook you found. Maybe you’ll finally be able to convince commander Erwin with your discoveries? Still, you could have died. No matter how much I try to stop you, you always try and go at it, huh?

That was so very stupid of you. How are you so brilliant and stupid at the same time? 

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou, 

DID YOU REALLY ALMOST FALL OFF THE WALL?! I’m so glad my grandmother forbade me to curse because I would have exclaimed a variety of colorful language at you during that entire situation. 

It was our first test run of your titan capturing method, and all would have been well if you weren’t leaning too far and, I don’t know, SLIPPED? 

It was a good thing captain Levi had incredible reflexes and had gotten to you just in time. He seems very attuned to whenever you put yourself in danger, isn’t he? I could have sworn he was just waiting for something bad to happen. I also could have sworn I was going to get a heart attack then and there. 

Why are you so reckless and stupid? Great, now I feel bad for calling you that. But hey, I need to let it out, okay? Don’t take it personally. But then again, captain Levi pretty much calls you that daily and you seem to find it endearing. 

I’m also so worried about when we start experimenting on titans. By the walls, you’re not going to make it easy for me, are you? Just please don’t die. 

—   Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou, 

I knew you weren’t going to make things easy for me. I have to admit, you giving names to those titans was pretty strange — but it was still rather cute. Only if you weren’t going crazy about it. 

I feel like I say that as if it’s a new thing. But then again, back in our training days, you were relatively calm. You always indulge yourself in books and go out of your way to try and learn new things. Those were nice and calm days, weren’t they? You’ve always piqued my interest from the very beginning especially since you were the only one who pronounced our instructor’s name wrong. 

Why am I bringing this up? Anyway, if this is the last letter you read it means that I was eaten by Albert or whoever that other titan was. We can’t afford to lose you, you know? That’s one of the things I’ve learned so far anyway. That some lives in the Survey Corps matter more than the others, and I would gladly get eaten by a titan if it means you’d live another day.

I don’t mean to make you feel guilty or anything of the sort. This is just how I feel. 

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou, 

How do you do it? It seems you’re the only person (besides commander Erwin, well, it’s a given) who has full control over captain Levi. You’ve managed to persuade him to capture a titan for you, and though he complained about it, he still did it anyway. 

Since you’ll never get these letters while I’m still alive, I can probably be as honest as possible. 

I think that he has feelings for you. 

Now, I hope by the time you read this, he’s made it obvious to you by then. And I know it seems like a stretch, cause well, he’s captain Levi and everything and he doesn’t seem like he’s capable of those types of emotions, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you. 

I think it started when you ran off to the forest and he followed you. I read the reports of what had happened, and it seemed he was really shaken. We also work a lot with their squad, so there’s a lot of room for things to blossom then I suppose. 

I know I sound incredibly foolish. And I’m telling you right now, I’m completely sober as I write this. But it’s just something I can tell, something that doesn’t seem too far-fetched. He cares about you a lot. 

Now I need a drink. I don’t know what’s going on with me. 

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou,

I think you have feelings for captain Levi. 

This is an even more outrageous claim than the one in my previous entry, and because I’m always glued to your side, I feel like I know more than others do. 

It’s been a while since I wrote my thoughts on here. It’s been a rough couple of days? Weeks? I forgot. So much has happened. I don’t want to delve too much into the details but essentially, we had engaged with the female titan outside the walls, then inside Stohess district, then the armored and colossal titan. I also finished investigating Ragako — Connie Springer’s village. I haven’t had enough rest these days. A lot of us haven’t. And though I feel incredibly exhausted and want to make use of these couple of days of peace before we head onto Trost, I felt like jotting some of the things I had witnessed between you and the captain.

I know this is really silly of me. But forgive me again, this is the only outlet I have. Don’t worry, I’ve already jotted down the important findings in the middle pages of this journal/sketchbook. But I’m starting to feel things myself. Feelings I didn’t know I could feel either. 

Anyway, you had visited him when he was still in the hospital, getting some treatment for his injured leg. You had dismissed me that day, saying you were going to him. 

I also had caught you lending him one of your jackets. And though he had protested, he still eagerly wore it. 

Not to mention the number of times I had caught you making tea for him. How did I know? Well, no one else touched the tin of black tea in the mess hall but Captain Levi. So it had been an easy assumption. 

There are a lot more instances, but I can’t seem to bring myself to put them on paper. I don’t know why — maybe there are just too many, maybe I just don’t want to recall them. I think maybe both. 

Either way, it seems as if you two have feelings for one another now. I’m glad. I’m also glad that you’re okay, that you’re alive, that you’re still here. Hopefully, that will continue to last long. 

—  Moblit

*******

Dear Hange-san, 

I think… that this will be my last letter. 

I know it’s been a long time since I last updated this series of letters (we haven’t exactly had a lot of free time) and as we are preparing to return to Shiganshina, I felt the need to address everything here and now. Seeing as there’s a high probability I might not make it back. 

The moment I first met you back when we were cadets in the Training Corps, you had captured my attention almost immediately. Your hair had been way shorter back then so there wasn’t any need to tie it up into a ponytail. Other than that, your eyes always remained bright, your laugh was always infectious. When you had told me back then how you wanted to see the world beyond the walls, I had thought you to be crazy. My family had always wanted me to enlist in the Garrison, especially since I had a lot of relatives there. But the moment you started talking about what life could be like, about different plants and trees, about different types of animals — the way you had smiled up at me and used your hands excessively to discuss your points  —  I knew then and there that I would follow you wherever you went. 

Going into the Survey Corps was absolutely terrifying. But being with you, helping you, and staying by your side had made it worth it. 

The amount of times you almost died, the amount of times you had put yourself in danger is just too much to count. The number of times you had made me worried  —  well, let’s just say I’m glad my heart didn’t suffer any complications. Or maybe it has and I just don’t know. 

Seriously, you’re too reckless sometimes, you know? But I can’t help but admire you still. You do it because you desire to change because you want to understand our natural enemies. You’re the only one I’ve met who thinks that way, and people have mentioned more than once that you’re really crazy, and perhaps they’re right, but you’re also the most brilliant of all of them combined. 

And because of this, you have captured my heart. 

I’m sure there are more reasons, but I can’t find it in me to talk about all of them. I don’t know why this happened, how this happened, or if I was too obvious. But knowing you, you probably wouldn’t know if someone had romantic feelings for you even if it hit you straight in the face. After all, this is exactly what’s going on between you and captain Levi. 

I know for certain now that he loves you. I had a hunch before, but I know now. I could tell by the nicknames he gave you, from how angry he was when you fell during our battle, how he went to visit you, multiple times, after that incident. How when he sees me alone in the corridor or something, he always asks about you. How in every mission we go, he always looks at you, as if he’s engraving your image into his memory should one of you not make it. How he captured a titan for you. How he knows how you take your tea and how he always goes to your side for comfort. How he basically forces you to take a bath. How he just knows you and understands your entirety as a human being. 

It all makes sense now. I suppose, if you didn’t pay attention much to it, you’d think it was something else entirely. Just a comrade looking out for another comrade. But his eyes, oh his eyes always say otherwise. He loves you and I hope by the time you read this, you’re well aware of that fact. 

And I also hope you’re well aware that you love him too. 

I could tell by how you tease him almost to no end. By how you always talk about him, either positively or negatively. How you just know when he's around as if you have a keen sense just for him. How you translate his words for others (he’s not very good at those). How even when he’s fuming angry or irritated, you seem to be the only one who can get him to calm down. How you had visited him multiples times after his injury. How you just knew all that information about him living with Kenny the Ripper as if you two had discussed the life he had led before. How you know exactly how he takes his tea. How you always make it a point to celebrate his birthday despite our lack of funds. How you just know him and trust him so well. 

You love him, Hange-san. You love him so much. Dare I say you love him as equally if not more as your titans and your research. What you two have is something so special I doubt anyone inside the walls has the same kind of bond. 

I wanted that with you. 

You both deserve happiness together. But I know that’s not possible. Especially with the world we live in. 

I just wanted you to know this before it’s too late. I want you to know that should I never come back by your side, that you always have him. That he treasures you. Perhaps… even more than I do.

Enclosed in this journal are all the findings in research we collected through the years. And so are these letters. And so are some… portraits I had done myself. I hope you like them. 

If you’re reading this, then that means you have survived and may or may not be the new commander. Hange-san, I hope you remember that you are life itself, that you are so brilliant and amazing, and that you continue to give others an inexpressible joy. You have enriched my life (despite almost killing me multiple times). I know you will do a fantastic job as commander. That’s because, well, you’re you. You’re Hange. I wish I could elaborate more but it is what it is. 

There’s so much more I want to say. So much more I want to tell you. But there isn’t any time nor can I bring myself to put any of it on paper. You also should be expecting me on the training grounds in a couple of minutes from now to continue Eren’s experiments. So I suppose, I’ll just leave you with this:

    … I love you. 

  Sincerely, Moblit Berner. 

[ibijau]

27 for xisang, please make it as angsty as your heart desires ❤️

It had been a few years since Lan Xichen had left his seclusion, and a few more since the events that had pushed him to enter it. He had made his peace with the whole thing, accepted his share of guilt and blame, and resumed his life as before, only changed by a better understanding of human nature. He also, perhaps, paid a little more attention to rumours, and was more interested in investigating them, knowing that refusing to do so had partly led to that disaster with Jin Guangyao. Even when rumours were unfounded, Lan Xichen had started to realise, the very fact that they existed could reveal something about both their target and their instigator.

The latest rumour was that Nie Huaisang intended to become Chief Cultivator.

Once, Lan Xichen would have dismissed the idea immediately. Nie Huaisang was many things, but he had never been particularly ambitious nor interested in hard work. Certainly Qinghe Nie was doing better again these days, but it still wasn’t quite back to truly being a Great Sect, nor did it give any signs that it aimed to be. Then again, if Nie Huaisang had proven one thing, it was that he knew how to deceive and misdirect when it served his purposes.

At the next conference they both attended, Lan Xichen found himself paying rather more attention than usual to the man he’d once counted as a friend of sorts. At first there was nothing amiss. Nie Huaisang conducted himself as usual, talking little, listening a lot. Listening too much, in fact. Lan Xichen realised after a bit that he had never seen Nie Huaisang so attentive at a conference, even if he was clearly trying to hide it. What’s more, quite a few times Lan Xichen caught the other man glancing in his direction. They hadn’t exchanged two words since that certain night, nor had either of them made efforts to acknowledge the other in any way, so this was odd.

Odder still was it for Nie Huaisang to come seek him out when a break was offered for lunch.

“Lan zongzhu, may I request a word with you?” Nie Huaisang asked, his tone a little too light to be really polite, just as it used to be.

“Nie zongzhu, if we have anything to talk about, I suggest you get in touch with my uncle, as you’ve done of late,” Lan Xichen replied. “He will probably be of more help than myself.”

There was a flash of pain on Nie Huaisang’s face at that rejection, as if it were a surprise. As if Nie Huaisang hadn’t done everything in his power to cause a rift between them.

More upset than he would have expected, Lan Xichen started turning away, only to feel a hand grasping his sleeve and pulling on the fabric.

“Er-ge, please, I need your help,” Nie Huaisang begged with startling sincerity, nervously glancing around. “A situation has emerged that I cannot deal with alone, I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t help me!”

Lan Xichen shivered. The last time he’d seen that pleading expression on Nie Huaisang’s face had been years ago, at that disastrous conference in Lanling when they had failed to unmask Jin Guangyao. For Nie Huaisang to fall back into his old comedy, something had to have happened.

Anger flashed through Lan Xichen’s mind, which he was careful not to show. Whatever Nie Huaisang had done this time didn’t concern him, and he was done being used by that man as a tool and a weapon.

At the same time, Nie Huaisang had never once reached out for him in all those years, always directly dealing with Lan Qiren or, on a few occasions Wei Wuxian, if he needed something. Whatever bitter taste Lan Xichen felt over the events that had passed between them, it was easy to guess that Nie Huaisang hardly had better feelings toward him. So for him to come begging, to call him ‘er-ge’ again…

“Let’s find somewhere more private then,” Lan Xichen conceded, hating himself for this weakness he knew he would regret.

He pretended not to notice the eagerness and relief on Nie Huaisang’s face, both of which were surely fake, and led the other man toward the room he’d been given for the duration of the conference. It was unpleasant to let Nie Huaisang have a glimpse of his privacy, even in such an impersonal manner, but this couldn’t be avoided.

As soon as the room’s door closed behind them, Nie Huaisang’s attitude changed, and he sagged onto a chair, more like a distressed child than the scheming murderer Lan Xichen now knew him to be.

“Er-ge, I am so lost!” Nie Huaisang cried out, dropping his head into his hands. “And I didn’t know who to turn to and… I don’t even know if you’ll believe me, but I have to try. If you don’t believe me, who will?”

“What have you done now?” Lan Xichen asked, allowing some impatience to pierce through.

“I haven’t done anything! But I think something was done to me. Er-ge, a little while ago, I woke up one morning, and everything was wrong, so wrong. I thought at first that maybe da-ge was pulling a prank on me, or that he wanted to punish me for something, so I played along, right? But then I realised that it wasn’t that at all, and it couldn’t be something da-ge had done, because he’s dead? Er-ge, is da-ge really dead?” Nie Huaisang asked, looking up at him.

Lan Xichen shivered and nodded, too dumbstruck to say anything. Nie Huaisang cried out, and broke into tears. He looked so utterly miserable that it took all of Lan Xichen’s self control not to kneel at his side and comfort him.

“I can’t believe…” Nie Huaisang sobbed. “And A-Yao too?”

Another nod.

“How could they… and they killed each other? I got that right, didn’t I? They killed each other?”

“Huaisang, what are you playing at?” Lan Xichen snapped. “You know that very well. You were then when it happened.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened as if in shock.

“Er-ge, so you’re really angry at me? What did I do to you?”

“What didn’t you do, Huaisang?”

A pitiful gasp escaped the younger man who bit his lip and looked away, still crying steadily.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he mumbled, sniffling and clumsily trying to wipe his tears with the back of his hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t have… but if not you, who can I trust? You’re the only one who’s always put up with me. Er-ge, please, I know you’re angry, but you have to help me because… because whatever it is I’ve done to you, I don’t remember it.”

“Huaisang!”

“I really don’t!” Nie Huaisang sobbed, curling up on himself. “I don’t remember anything, and I’m so lost, and da-ge is dead, and I don’t know what to do, I really don’t know, and I’m supposed to be a sect leader but I don’t know how to do that! And I… I’m lost, I’m so lost, I need help, p-please help me, p-please, er-ge, please h-help me! I d-don’t, I don’t know, I don’t know anything and I’m, I’m s-so lost!”

Confronted with the sight of his former friend crying so hard that he seemed to be choking on his own tears, Lan Xichen hesitated. It wasn’t new for Nie Huaisang to cry in front of him, but it was rarely so raw and inelegant. Nie Huaisang was a little vain, and rarely allowed his apparent despair to make him ugly. Right then, though, his face was red and wet from heavy tears and snot, and there was no artfulness to be found in his crying. In fact the only time Lan Xichen could remember Nie Huaisang looking like this had been right after hearing that his brother had passed away.

Moved against his will, Lan Xichen came closer and knelt by Nie Huaisang, awkwardly patting his shoulder in comfort.

“What do you mean you don’t remember anything?”

“I don’t!” Nie Huaisang wailed. “I went to sleep one night, all excited about that Phoenix Mountain Hunt that we were about to go to, because I’d say A-Yao and you and Jiang Cheng and even Wei Wuxian, even if he’s all weird now! And then I wake up in the morning, and my room looks different, and people are calling me sect leader, and now da-ge is dead, and you hate me, and, and…”

He started sobbing again, harder than before.

“How long ago was that?” Lan Xichen asked, rubbing the other man’s back.

“F-four months ago,” Nie Huaisang mumbled. “I, I didn’t know what t-to do so I played along. I f-figured it would stop on its own maybe. T-then I thought, if someone d-did this to me, they’ll t-try something else if they think it’s n-not working. I really t-thought it might be a p-prank, but you… you never lie, er-ge, so it’s really t-true. Da-ge is d-dead, it’s true, it’s all true…”

For a moment, Lan Xichen stopped breathing.

He remembered how, years and years before, Nie Huaisang had refused to listen to anyone telling him that his brother had died until Lan Xichen himself confirmed it. Back then too, Nie Huaisang had only trusted him and claimed it was because Lan Xichen never lied.

“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve lost nearly two decades’ worth of memory and in four months, nobody noticed?”

Nie Huaisang nodded miserably.

“I couldn’t let them know,” he sighed, his tears starting to calm a little. “Even when I f-figured it probably wasn’t a prank, then it meant that someone had attacked me, r-right? I couldn’t let anyone know that it had worked.” He sniffed, and wiped away his tears. “I really wanted to come see you sooner, but I’d heard some of my disciples chat that it was annoying we were in such bad terms with the great sects, so I wasn’t sure you’d see me at all if I went to Gusu. I thought I’d just wait until we were in the same place, and then I’d see if you seemed angry at me or not. And you are. I didn’t even know you could get so angry at someone, er-ge.”

“I am. Should I tell you why?”

Sniffling some more, Nie Huaisang shook his head.

“I think I can guess. I think it has to do with da-ge and san-ge. Is… is it my fault they’re dead?”

Lan Xichen opened his mouth, ready to say that at least one of them had died by his fault indeed, then closed it again. If Nie Huaisang was in earnest, if he’d really lost his memories, then telling him the truth would just be needlessly cruel. If his last memory was before the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, then he really was just a clueless young man. Lan Xichen still remembered how dainty Nie Huaisang had looked at that Night Hunt, the slight argument he’d gotten in with Nie Mingjue over being properly dressed for the occasion. It had been back when the two brother’s fights were just a game between them, before Nie Mingjue’s health started to decline and all good humour disappeared from their arguments.

If their places had been reversed, perhaps Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have had the kindness of staying silent. He had proved that he wasn’t above being cruel when the occasion called for it, and he’d shown also in what little regard he held Lan Xichen.

But Lan Xichen wasn’t Nie Huaisang, and the world already held enough cruelty as it was.

“They died because Jin Guangyao made certain choices, and those eventually turned against him,” Lan Xichen claimed. “The role you played in that was no greater or lesser than mine.”

“But I played a role,” Nie Huaisang sharply noted, before sighing. “I thought so. Do you think maybe someone took offence to that and decided to punish me for it?”

“Very few people know what really happened between da-ge and Jin Guangyao, and of those, none are the sort to use curses,” Lan Xichen replied. He paused, considering something. “One is the kind who might figure out how to lift them, though. Huaisang, would you consider coming to Gusu with me to meet Wei Wuxian? If anyone can find how to help you, I think it is him.”

An odd little noise escaped from Nie Huaisang’s lips, something almost like laughter.

“Wei Wuxian is in Gusu? So that’s true too, he really married Lan Wangji? Ah, and here I thought that for sure that one was fake… The future is a really odd place, uh? But… yes, I’ll come. I’m so tired of being on my own, and I trust you, er-ge.”

Lan Xichen quickly stood up and turned away, his eyes suddenly burning with tears he couldn’t allow himself to spill, his chest so tight he nearly couldn’t breathe.

He had thought he’d made his peace with what had happened, with the way it had happened, but to hear Nie Huaisang’s easy profession of trust reopened an old wound. If only he’d shown the same trust after his brother’s death, if only he hadn’t tried to handle that one his own, if only he’d realised that Lan Xichen would have listened to his suspicions, if only Lan Xichen had seen that something had been wrong…

But perhaps there had been nothing to see.

Four months of amnesia, and nobody had noticed anything.

Lan Xichen wondered if he should have taken comfort in this confirmation of Nie Huaisang’s acting skills. He found that at the moment, he couldn’t. Being fooled by a master was still to have been fooled.

“Let’s discuss the details of this later,” Lan Xichen suggested in a strangled voice. “It will be noticed that we’ve both disappeared, and that will fuel gossip. Take a moment to compose yourself, and then…”

“It’s fine, I’m good,” Nie Huaisang replied with perfect steadiness. “May I just borrow some water to clean my face?”

Startled by his tone, Lan Xichen turned to look at him. Nie Huaisang was standing once more, his expression perfectly placid in spite of some lingering redness in his eyes. After he washed the tears and snot off his face, nothing remained of the breakdown he had just gone through. Lan Xichen found himself almost wondering if any of that had happened, if he had just dreamed that moment of fear and vulnerability, that demonstration of trust.

Only time would tell if Nie Huaisang had been sincere, or if this was only another scheme of his.

[nordleuchten]

La Fayette - an American Citizen?

As promised, @msrandonstuff :-)

The question weather La Fayette was an American citizen had for quite a time been the subject of debates - both during La Fayette’s lifetime as well as long after his death. Not only La Fayette’s own status was up for debate but also the legal status of his descendants.

We start off with the fairly simple, La Fayette had been made an honorary American citizen on August 06, 2002 (that is the date where President George W. Bush signed the resolution, the bill however had been first introduced on April 24, 2001, you can find the timeline of the bill here.)

The Congress of the United States has a very detailed (and research-friendly) free online archive. You can read the wording of the original bill here and here you can see the amendments that were made. The speeches and procedures that accompany the bill the day it was passed in the House of Representatives are to be found here.

Here is the text of the resolution for everybody who has no interest or time to go through my jungle of links :-)

Joint Resolution

Conferring honorary citizenship of the United States posthumously on Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette.

Whereas the United States has conferred honorary citizenship on four other occasions in more than 200 years of its independence, and honorary citizenship is and should remain an extraordinary honor not lightly conferred nor frequently granted;

Whereas Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette or General Lafayette, voluntarily put forth his own money and risked his life for the freedom of Americans;

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette, by an Act of Congress, was voted to the rank of Major General;

Whereas, during the Revolutionary War, General Lafayette was wounded at the Battle of Brandywine, demonstrating bravery that forever endeared him to the American soldiers;

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette secured the help of France to aid the United States' colonists against Great Britain;

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette was conferred the honor of honorary citizenship by the Commonwealth of Virginia and the State of Maryland;

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette was the first foreign dignitary to address Congress, an honor which was accorded to him upon his return to the United States in 1824;

Whereas, upon his death, both the House of Representatives and the Senate draped their chambers in black as a demonstration of respect and gratitude for his contribution to the independence of the United States;

Whereas an American flag has flown over his grave in France since his death and has not been removed, even while France was occupied by Nazi Germany during World War II; and

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette gave aid to the United States in her time of need and is forever a symbol of freedom: Now, therefore, be it

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette, is proclaimed posthumously to be an honorary citizen of the United States of America.

Now, this honorary citizenship does only involve La Fayette himself. His heirs have nothing to do with this act. It does however acknowledge that La Fayette had already been made a citizen by the state of Maryland and the Commonwealth of Virginia (they left out the, somewhat questionable, declarations by the State of Connecticut and the State of Massachusetts.) Let us therefor go back to the 18th century and have a look at both of these resolutions. First is Maryland:

The General Assembly of the state of Maryland passed the following resolution on December 28, 1784.

CHAP. XII.

An ACT to naturalize major-general the marquis de la Fayette and his heirs male for ever.

WHEREAS the general assembly of Maryland, anxious to perpetuate a name dear to the state, and to recognize the marquis de la Fayette for one of its citizens, who, at the age of nineteen, left his native country, and risked his life in the late revolution; who, on his joining the American army, after being appointed by congress to the rank of major-general, disinterestedly refused the usual rewards of command, and sought only to deserve what he attained, the character of patriot and soldier; who, when appointed to conduct an incursion into Canada, called forth by his prudence and extraordinary discretion the approbation of congress; who, at the head of an army in Virginia, baffled the manœuvres of a distinguished general, and excited the admiration of the oldest commanders; who early attracted the notice and obtained the friendship of the illustrious general Washington; and who laboured and succeeded in raising the honour and the name of the United States of America: Therefore,

II. Be it enacted, by the general assembly of Maryland, That the marquis de la Fayette, and his heirs male for ever, shall be, and they and each of them are hereby deemed, adjudged, and taken to be, natural born citizens of this state, and shall henceforth be entitled to all the immunities, rights and privileges, of natural born citizens thereof, they and every of them conforming to the constitution and laws of this state, in the enjoyment and exercise of such immunities, rights and privileges.

Interesting piece of legislature, we are now not only talking about La Fayette but also about “his male heirs forever” - keep that in mind for later. On to Virginia:

The Journal of the House of Delegates of the Commonwealth of Virginia, yr. 1781-1786 states for Thursday, December 16, 1784:

Ordered, That leave be given to bring in a bill “for the naturalisation of the Marquis De la Fayette;” and that Messr. Henry Lee, and Turberville, do prepare and bring in the same.

We can read for Monday, October 31, 1785:

Mr. Henry Lee presented, according to order, a bill, “for the naturalisation of the Marquis De la Fayette;” and the same was received and read a first time, and ordered to be read a second time.

We can further read on that day that:

A bill, "for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette;" was read the second time, and ordered to be com- mitted to a committee of the whole House immediately. The House, accordingly, resolved itself into a committee of the whole House, on the said bill ; and after some time spent therein, Mr. Speaker resumed the chair, and Mr. Braxton reported, that the committee had, according to order, had the said bill under their consideration, and had gone through the same, and made several amendments thereto, which he read in his place, and afterwards delivered in at the clerk's table, where the same were again twice read, and agreed to by the House.

The next day, on Tuesday, November 1, 1785, we can read in the Journal:

An engrossed bill. “for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette;" was read the third time.

Resolved, That the bill do pass; and that the title be, "an act, for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette.'”

Ordered, That Mr. Henry Lee do carry the bill to the Senate, and desire their concurrence.

On Friday, November 11, 1785 we can read:

A message from the Senate by Mr. Harrison

Mr. Speaker, — The Senate have agreed to the bill (…) “for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette;" (…) And then he withdrew

And finally on Saturday, January 7, 1786 we can read:

The Speaker signed the following enrolled bills: (…) “An act, for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette."

At this point now we have two citizenships, one of them including his male heirs - so why was there any need for the honorary citizenship of 2002? I let Mr. Sensenbrenner, from the Committee on the Judiciary, who also submitted the amendments to the 2002 bill, explain it:

The Marquis de Lafayette was granted citizenship by the States of Maryland and Virginia before the Constitution was adopted. In 1935, a State Department letter addressed the question of whether the citizenship conferred by these States could be interpreted to have ultimately resulted in the Marquis de Lafayette being a United States citizen. Their determination was that it did not. The State Department provided an excerpt from the Journals of the Continental Congress in 1784 which stated in the Congress' farewell to the Marquis that ``as his uniform and unceasing attachment to this country has resembled that of a patriotic citizen of the United States . . . [emphasis added]'' as proof that the citizenship was not considered to have translated to a Federal level.

Simply speaking, a “state citizenship” does not equal a “real American citizenship”. Nevertheless, two decadents of La Fayette tried to obtain an American citizenship by using the Maryland resolution. Count René de Chambrun in 1932 and Count Edward Perrone di San Martino a few years later – I think the years was 1935 and he was the reason the State Department wrote their letter. As you all can very well imagine, both men were denied. Beside the rather obvious reason for their denial, the descendants were faced with even more legal obstacles. They had to rely solely on the Maryland resolution. That resolution was passed in 1784 under the Articles of Confederation. This set of laws was replaced on March 4, 1789 by the United States Constitution. Some people argue that La Fayette and all his male heirs born up until March 4, 1784 were made US citizens by the Maryland resolution but new citizenships could not be granted to any male heirs born after the Constitution became effective, because the Maryland resolution was passed under the Articles of Confederation and not under the Constitution. Some people argue however, that the Constitution still provides the same legal margin for a citizenships according to the Maryland resolution.

It furthermore has to be taken into consideration, that the term “and his heirs male forever” generally implies that there has to be an uninterrupted line of male decadents and heirs. From father to son to grand-son, great-grandson and so on and so forth. The problem is, that the male line of the La Fayette’s died out quite some time ago. La Fayette himself had one son, Georges Washington Louis Gilbert de La Fayette. He in turn had two sons of his own. Oscar Gilbert Lafayette and Edmond de La Fayette. None of them had any surviving male children of their own.

But these two incidents were not the only times that trouble and uncertainty arose from the States grant of citizenship - far from it. When La Fayette was arrested during the French Revolution by the Austrian troops, he tried to avoid imprisonment by declaring himself an American citizen. Neither the Austrians nor the Prussians bought into that and the Americans were also a bit uneasy about La Fayette’s claim. Later, when Adrienne send her son Georges Washington de La Fayette over to America, she wrote a very “subtle” letter, reminding the American people that her son was included in the resolution from Maryland. Meanwhile, James Monroe, the American ambassador to France at the time, had obtained passports for Adrienne and her two daughters to travel to America as well. The papers were for “Mrs. Motier of Hartford, Connecticut”. Here is the catch; the town of Hartford in Connecticut (not the state itself, only that single town) had declared La Fayette and his entire family as citizen. The passports were made on a very shaky legal ground and Monroe was fully aware of that - but he simple did not care, nor did anybody else. They wanted to help the family and if questionable passports were the way to go, so be it.

So there you have it. La Fayette was made a citizen of the United States only once, but he was made twice the citizen of different States.

[sachiwrites]

some friends to lovers hcs for sakusa pls? i've been thirsting over him for a while and seeing him in the recent manga chapters plus season 4 is just--

same fam, same. its been a whole mess over here. yikes this got long

— you are 210% that neighbor who his parents rely on to acclimate their son into being a somewhat decent member of society. is it a hardy task for someone at the age of six? yeah. was sakusa an absolute shit at that age too? of course. but he stopped that one kid from pulling your hair in class that day so he’s basically your unofficial hero. even if it was only because apparently you had ‘cooties’.

— naturally you continued to have this unknown disease for most of your life. but apparently so did everyone else in Japan. except when you got older it simply became known as- physical contact.

— “kiyoomi, why don’t you play outside with your friend?”

—“ they’re dirty.”

— sticks and stone may break your bones but the mud streaked across your face and hands would most certainly kill sakusa. or at least that’s what you thought at the age of seven when you went grab him off his front porch anyway. he sort of whined and pushed you for it, causing you to fall back on your rear, much to his parents obvious disdain. or as so you gathered as you smirked over their shoulder as they carried you inside, earning an extra few years of sakusa’s ire.

— “yoomi, lets play tag.”

— “it’s kiyoomi. and no, play by yourself.”

— “sakusa-san, yoomi doesn’t want to-“

— “run”

— the two of you were ‘reluctant’ friends until the age of eight. more or less, sakusa was required to spend at least half an hour outside with you a daily. half way through that the tenture you had mercy on him and introduced him to video games within the safety of his own home. sakusa has zero interest in crash bandicoot, but he likes you a little more for your concede.

— but his parents knew what they were doing when they put their son’s social reputation into your hands. for a while you were his only friend but occasionally you were able to integrate him into society. through little things like sitting down your lunch next to his and offering to be his partner in project.

— “i don’t need your help with this.”

— “maybe, but i need yours, so pretty please.”

— sakusa was a young genius and it would benefit you to take advantage of that feature. call it payment for all your years of servitude.

— the only time you found yourself not needing to be a crutch in his life was when he was playing volleyball. it was an option during recess to give the students an opportunity to scout out interests in athletic ventures. the sport was almost too perfect for sakusa- as an indoor requirement with almost no physical contact. it was his niche. a part of society that catered to his needs in a way that didn’t require your intervention.

— naturally, others began taking notice of his talents. other students were more likely to invite him for games during breaks- most knowing to keep their distance and touch to a limit. his own enjoyment of the sport slowly geared him towards pseudo-friendships that allowed him to play more and garner his skill set.

— “im going to try out for the volleyball club.”

— of course you knew this much. it was what he was so obviously looking forward to the most in junior high. it was just his decision to share his own thought with you the struck home.

— “yeah? i guess i should get some cheers ready for you games, eh?”

— he flinches away from your enthusiasm, his face portraying a mistake in letting you know so soon. but not once did he ever deter you from coming. in fact, you continued to be made aware of each an every upcoming match regardless of importance.

— “we have a practice match against haizen today.”

— wasn’t the most significant but he invited you so you’d be there. probably more vocal than you needed to be but he could mark your attendance and that’s all that mattered.

— a small part of you was worried that volleyball would take your place. it obviously had more suitable attributes than you. but it almost became a staple in your evolving relationship.

— in fact the first game you missed inflicted the first real argument you could remember having with sakusa. it surprised even his parents when you met him the next day to walk to class. you were use to a quiet shoulder but not a cold shoulder.

— “is something wrong?”

— it continued for most of the trip until you couldn’t take it anymore and reached for his arm. instead of shaking you off, he turns on you, gaze lit a flame with an emotion you didn’t recognize.

— “i had a game and you didn’t show up.”

— thinking back you did recall most of the students congregating towards the gym after class. it vaguely registered but you’d seen less of sakusa that day and more of pressing from your teacher to get your grades in order.

— “i had to stay back with my instructor. i needed help with my studies.”

— it was a little embarrassing- not something you wanted to admit. especially to someone like sakusa who obviously excelled where you fell short.

— “you’re an idiot. you come to me for that. ill help you after my games.”

— perphas it was in that moment that you should have realized that sakusa was more cognitive of his reliance than you were.

— what he does realize it how much he’s going to have to help you if he intended for you to join him at itachiyama. the school had shown interest in him earlier than year and it was mutual. but it’s prestige called for academics when sports weren’t your strong suit.

— matches weren’t the only appointments sakusa held you to. nearly everyday after class, whether your place or his, he made himself present while you studied. he wasn’t an overbearing tutor but he called you out in your faults and made you aware of mistakes before they became a habit. he wasn’t going to make you a super genius but you would become a student worthy of acceptance.

— the two of you were building something that only your parents noticed at first while watching from the doorway. itachiyama would be a dynamic chapter for both of you.

— the title of that chapter is: volleyball. because wow does that become an even bigger part of your life. itachiyama was already a powerhouse before sakusa but now he’s a cog in the wheel and an important one at that. quickly climbing ranks and becoming an imperative part of the team. if only he was more receptive to his newly popular status.

— he was still the same old germaphobe- avoiding crowds and wanting to get home as soon as possible to shower in his own tub instead of the school issued ones.

— his personality sort of highlighted your presence more than you expected. but given sakusa’s overall avoidance of unnecessary interactions, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

— “he can be a bit much, but please take care of him.”

— above your bowed head, his older teammate coo and awe at sakusa’s cute little friend. this of course leads to more teasing for him but it’s all part of being part of a team- a larger whole. something you were willing to give up a bit of sakusa for.

— “are you two dating or something?”

— oh but that. you get a lot of that. not just by his teammates either. everyone seems to notice how sakusa tolerates you more than anyone else. though part of you wants to point out to his fan base that they would get a lot further if they just gave him his space. -yet here you were huddled up close in the library while he looked over your school work, so what could you say to that?

— “are you paying attention?”

— “hey, i got most of these right. give me a break.”

— not thinking about it, you go to ruffle his hair as a retort. an action sure to give you his ire- but it doesn’t? in fact his gaze doesn’t even lift from his book. and is he leaning closer? weird.

— sakusa is making rapid progress not only within tokyo but on a national level. it’s one of his teammates that points out his accomplishments to you one day while you’re waiting for sakusa to emerge from the locker rooms.

— “your boyfriend is really something else. already the ace of the team and he’s climbing the stats nationally too. you must be proud.”

— you are proud. very impressed, in fact. but sakusa is not your boyfriend. an important note that you most certainly do not get to point out because now sakusa is here and is corralling you towards the exit from his pressure of his chest against your back.

— he’s much more hands on now. less in tolerating your touch and more so initiating his own. it’s a late realization but most of your attention is stuck on that same teammate who is waving mischievously from the door.

— but oh man. it’s becoming a lot more obvious to you now when sakusa offers to hold you books while you change your shoes, and holding on to them even as you travel to class. he sits a little bit closer to you during study hall now, the erratic hitter of your knee brushing against his with every jerk up.

— “...are you okay, ‘yoomi?”

— he doesn’t complain about the name. not even a pinch of his brow, just confusion as he peers down at you.

— “im fine.”

— huh

— it’s all fun and games until his fingers catch yours one day while you walk side by side. it seemed like a fluke, just an accidental swing and bump. but then they’re latching and now you’re connected?

— “yoomi?”

— “it’s cold”

— yeah. okay, fair enough.

— periodic becomes occasional and now it’s a habit.

— and of course everyone takes notice. because sure sakusa tolerates you more than most. but now there’s a basis for it.

— “ah, so tables have turned.”

— “i knew it.”

— “top in the nation and already dating. our little kohai is such a pillar.”

— you’re beyond overwhelmed. worse because kiyoomi looks mildly irritated but doesn’t seem to be denying any of it.

— and you just have to ask.

— “yoomi are we dating?”

— because wow, only yesterday it seemed like he was still just your best friend. one who held your hand, shared his lunch, fell asleep on your shoulder in more than one occasion-

“— “we’re together. we’ve always been.”

— okay, yeah but context here.

— but then he’s dragging down the mask across his face, letting it hang under his chin. his lips are on your temple and phew, that’s new.

— “we should get home. i have a match tomorrow.”

— a game that becomes a statement in more ways than one.

— “ooh, is that sakusa’s jacket? so the rumors are true.”

— you fumble with the sleeves that seems to be determined to swallow up your hands. when he’d first offered it to you, it seemed so natural.

— “you might get cold.”

— god your boyf-... friend was so confusing.

— “not really. he hasn’t asked.”

— your classmate seems unconvinced but doesn’t comment further. that’s doesn’t say the same for the rest of the class who use every opportunity to chip at your resolve.

— “haven’t they been dating the whole time?”

— “they always hold hands now.”

— “i mean that’s his jacket isn’t it? it’s he like a germaphobe?”

— it’s getting harder to concentrate on the game. and certainly doesn’t help with every glance sakusa tosses up into the stands. by the end of the match, you’re beyond frazzled and ready to just sakusa the second he emerges from the gym.

— his teammate offer thanks in exchange for your praises on a game well won. it helps to distract you for a brief moment-but there he is now.

— his fingers slip befeeen yours like they belong and you can’t find the voice to complain. after congratulating him, there’s not much more said on your part. he walks you to your doorstep, not just the entrance, and lets his hand fall away. yet you both linger.

— “are we-“

— “are you-“

— when it comes down to it. obviously sakusa fails when it comes to words and actions seem to speak clearly.

— sakusa doesn’t protest when you reach up and undo his face mask for him. going as far as to lower his head, aware of your intentions, when you lean in.

— it’s a short kiss. a testing peck to balance in the shallow end before diving deep. his nose nudges yours and it’s your laugh that breaks the kiss.

— kiss-with kiyoomi sakusa-your once reluctant friend and now?

— sakusa leans in again. this time his hand on your shoulder for stabilization. there’s no tongue or extra touches. it’s just the act.

— life is all about changes.

— you smile and decide, yeah, you can do this.

— before he can leave, however, he’s tugging at the collar of his jacket.

— “i prefer to use my own detergent. but you can have it back tomorrow.”

— or maybe just some adjustments.

[pluto-writes]

Drunken Confessions| Haru Kato

A/n: I needed a drunk, blushing Haru in my life, say thank you to episode four everyone. Also, I just realized my birthday lands on the same day ep 5 comes out (〃^∇^)ﾉ very happy about that. (I know I said requests are closed but;;; if any Haru fans wanna... you can.) Not proof read, I’m tired and just wanted this done.

Words: 3k

It has officially been two years since you’ve joined the Modern Crime division, and to celebrate your accomplishment, your colleagues decided to have a small gathering for you.

Everyone was congratulating you, and praising you for your service and dedication for the past couple years. It warmed your heart knowing how much everybody cared about you. Mahoro even brought you some of your favorites candies as well, and it definitely made your night so much better.

It all ended too soon for your liking, but it was getting late and everyone still had to go to work early the next morning. The only person who hasn’t left yet was Kato Haru, a fellow co-worker of yours who started working in the same division not that long before you. You guys had that in common, and naturally drifted towards each other.

Now that you think about it, you hadn’t seen much of him tonight. You didn’t realize that earlier since you were too busy being surrounded by people.

“You’re not leaving, (L/n)-san?” 

“No,” you answered, walking around the room collecting the leftover trash left laying about, “I’m gonna hang back and clean up. It’s the least I can do since everyone was kind enough to host a party for me.” 

“Then I’ll help you too,” you heard the sound of wood clattering. You looked over to where you heard it and saw Kato grabbing a broom and dust pan.

Dumping the empty cans and used napkins into the garbage, you went over to him and attempted to take the supplies from him, “It’s fine, Kato-san. Really. I can do this myself.”

“It’s no problem,” he shook his head at you. “Plus, I can’t ignore someone in need of help!” He flashed you a pure smile as he continued to sweep the floor. You can’t believe how generous he was sometimes. 

He always made a point of helping others, even when it wasn’t necessary, or didn’t benefit him in any way. Maybe that’s why you fell for him so hard.

Taking a deep breath to calm your beating heart, you responded with a simple, “Thank you.” And continued with your cleaning. You tried your best to not invade his personal space, being alone with him and doing something so domestic as cleaning reminded you of things old married couples would do together. 

After a couple minutes, the room was back in its original state. You had to admit, if Kato didn’t help you, it would've taken you longer to finish.

“You did a good job cleaning,” you commented. He was both fast and efficient, it wasn’t a half assed job.

His face grew red from the compliment, “It’s nothing. Just something I learned since I live alone,” he rubbed the nape of his neck nervously. 

“I see…” The atmosphere grew slightly awkward since you couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Well, I’ll be going now, Kato-san. Thank you for all your hard work.”

“Actually…” He called out right before you left, “I was wondering if you’d want to come to my place.” You stared back at him, confused as to why he would suddenly invite you to his apartment. Unless he meant- “N-not in tha-that way, o-of course! It’s just that…” He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I have a bottle of soju for you and I left it home.”

“Is that all? Then you can just give it to me tomorrow, there’s no need to trouble yourself.”

“It won’t be any trouble at all. Besides, it’s for you to celebrate this occasion. Wouldn’t be much of a gift if I don’t give it to you the day of.”

Knowing how stubborn he was, and how he won’t let this go, you agreed with him and followed him back home. The walk there was peaceful, and conversation seemed to flow more easily now that you were out of work.

There were a few times where you caught yourself walking too close to him that you felt his hands graze past yours, you had the urge to hold his hand and keep walking like nothing happened. But you refrained yourself from doing so, he was a co-worker, and it would be unprofessional to do so. 

The two of you finally made it to his apartment, you trailed behind him as you walked up the stairs. It was a normal apartment complex, rightfully sized for someone who lived alone. 

Once you reached the door, Kato unlocked it and stepped inside. “You can wait here, it’s too cold to wait outside.” He started to take off his shoes, and placed them on the floor, then ventured further into his apartment. 

You listened and waited for him at the entrance hall. This was your first time at his place despite knowing him for two years, it had just never come up. You took everything in, it was a tad messy but you knew that just meant it was well lived in. 

Looking around more you saw some magazines laying on the table, and all his pots and pans hanging on the kitchen wall. ‘That’s right… he can cook too. I wonder if I’ll be able to try it one day.’

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” his voice broke you out from your thoughts. “Here you go.” He handed the bottle of soju in a bag over to you with a smile. You smiled back at him.

“Thank you, Kato-san.” You peered into the bag, and saw how much he had actually given you. The bottle was huge! You thought it would be those 12-ounce bottles.

Your shock must have been visible since he asked you, “Do you not like the flavor I picked out?”

“No, no. That’s not it all. It’s just a lot of alcohol. Especially considering that I don’t think I’ll be able to drink all of this by myself.”

“Let’s open the bottle now then! It’ll be a lot less lonely if we drink it together. And I can see your reaction when you try it too!” He got himself excited thinking about it. “You can leave your shoes here, and wait for me at the table. I’ll bring some shot glasses and something to snack on as well.” He walked off towards his kitchen.

You checked the time on your phone, ‘Just one drink won’t hurt, would it?’ You thought as you bent down to take off your shoes, and left them neatly against the wall.

You walked to the table and sat down on the floor. Curious, you opened the bottle and took a whiff. It didn’t smell strongly of alcohol, it smelled more like something fruity. But you knew that was deceiving and wouldn’t want to drink too much of it.

Turning the bottle around, it revealed the sticker on the front that showed a picture of a strawberry. “So it’s strawberry flavored… hm…”

“Yeah,” Kato came back, placing a plate filled with snacks on the table, then put a shot glass in front of you and one in front of him. “Have you tried it before?”

“No. I don’t drink that much, so this will be my first time drinking soju too.” You gave the bottle to Kato, and allowed him to pour some into your cup. Once it was filled, you took the cup and waited for him to fill his own. 

“Then I’m honored to share your first drink of soju. This stuff is really good.” After his cup was filled, he lifted the glass towards you, “For two years!” 

“For two years!” You cheered after him and clicked your glasses together. You drank the liquid, and felt it run down your throat. It didn’t give you a burning sensation as other drinks do, and tasted pleasant. You could totally see yourself drinking more, but you knew that if you did you’d regret it the next day. “This tastes really good!”

“Right!?” He began to pour himself a second cup, “I usually don’t get this one for myself, but I figured you’d like it.” You were still on your first cup, you wanted to take it slow and savor it. You could always drink more another day. You could feel yourself start to loosen up with the alcohol in your system. 

You continued talking with Kato, and saw him slowly start to lose his filter. You were right to not drink too much, he seemed like the type to handle his alcohol, but his face got flushed with each couple sips and his words began to slur together. 

It was cute seeing his composer dissolve, since he’s always professional at work and took his job seriously. Getting to see this side of him was worth

“Ugh.. And don’t get me started on Kambe… He’s insufferable.” He mumbled into his glass as he drank more, “Thinks money is the answer to everything.” You guys somehow got onto the topic of your colleagues, giving your opinions on them and retelling stories about them that made both of you laugh. 

Before he could rant more about Kambe, you interrupted him. “Can I ask you something, Kato-san?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ve been thinking, we’ve worked together for a while. And we’re somewhat close, right?” He nodded along to what you were saying. “Can I call you by your first name?” He froze as you said that, and covered his face with his hand. 

“Ah! Uhm…” His face grew hotter. 

“I understand if that’s too much! It’s just that, the Chief calls you by your given name. You can call me by my first name too!”

He averted his eyes, “D-don’t… Don’t tease me like that…”

“What do you mean?”

“When you say stuff like that... It gives me hope.” He laid his head on the table, his cheek resting against the cool wood. “It makes me think that I’m not reading anything wrong… That you might like me back…”

“You like me!?” You asked, shocked. “I’m sure there are other people who are much better than me.”

“Tha-that’s not true! Not one… one bit! You are an amazing person!” He sat up in his seat, and used his hands to prop himself on the table. “You make me want to improve myself.. And do right by you…”

He leaned over the table, his face closing in on yours, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of alcohol from his breath. “There are too many reasons to list…”  With him directly in front of you, you could see how clouded he eyes looked from the liquor. 

He brought his face in front of yours, and closed the remaining distance between your lips. His lips locked onto yours, and he pressed deeper into the kiss. Stunned by the abrupt kiss, your mind didn’t register what was happening until a couple seconds later. 

“Wa-wait!” You shoved him off of you. He whined at the loss of contact, and breathed heavily as he regained his breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this! You’re drunk right now! I don’t want to take advantage of that.”

“Ah…” He touched his lips, “Your lips felt so soft…” The blush on his face intensified. Deciding that enough was enough, and that you wanted to stop anything further from happening, you stood up and went to his side.

“Haru.” You said sternly, your eyes strict, clearly showing you meant business.

“Y-yes!?”

“I think it’s time you went to bed.”

“Bed!?” His eyes widened. “(L/n)-san! Don’t you think this is going too fast!?”

“Not us. Just you. You’ll thank me later when you’re more sober.” You picked him up from under his arm and guided him to his bed, and gently laid him there. “Go to sleep.”

“Huh? But I’m … I’m not tired…” Knowing that was bullshit with the amount he drank, you humored him until he eventually fell into a drunken stupor. 

You pulled out your phone and looked at the time, “It’s way too late to leave now…” You said to yourself. “I guess I can fix things up around here.” You checked on Kato again to make sure he was sleeping before you cleaned up the table and carefully stashed the strawberry soju, just in case he woke up in the middle of the night and wanted to drink more.

Once you finished clearing the table, you headed towards the kitchen. “Pardon the intrusion.” You looked in the cabinets to find a cup and to hopefully find a cloth of some sorts. After you found a cup, you filled it up with water and placed it on the table next to his bed. 

“I still need to find something to put on his head…” You whispered to yourself, “The bathroom maybe? And I could probably find some painkillers as well.”

You opened the door to his bathroom, then opened the mirror cabinet that was above the sink. You ended up finding a bottle of Advils. ‘Jackpot.’ Twisting the cap open with a satisfying pop, you took out two gel pills. As you were putting everything back in its place, you caught sight of a hand towel laying on top of the rim of the bathtub.

You grabbed the towel too, so that you can use it to cool him down. Now back at his side again, you placed the two pills next to the glass of water, so when he woke up he’ll see it and take them. 

With a sigh, you walked back into the kitchen and ran the hand towel under cold water. You yawned as you made it back to Kato, and gently sat the cool towel on his forehead. He was still knocked out, and lightly snored with every exhale. 

Tired from everything that had happened today, you became drowsy, and watched as his chest rises and falls as he breathes. You eventually fell asleep, your head resting on his mattress. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunlight shined past the curtains and hit Kato directly in the face, “Ugh..” He groaned as he sat up. “My head is killing me…” He rubbed his face, trying to collect his thoughts from last night. His eyes then landed on you, your body was splayed across the floor next to his bed. “(L/n)-san...?” 

He got out of his bed too fast, causing his blood to rush to his head and face plant onto the floor next to you. The thud of his body woke you up from your slumber. “Mmh…? You up yet, Kato-san?”

“You can say that…” He sat up straight on the floor, “My head hurts even more now…”

“Oh,” you peeled yourself off the floor and picked up the water and pills, “here.”

“Thank you,” he quickly popped the pills into his mouth and drank the water. 

“You probably won’t feel better for another hour or so... “

“It’s fine…” 

You shuffled in your spot, feeling awkward by what had taken place the night before. “Uhm… Kato-san, can I borrow your kitchen? I can make you something to help with your hangover.” 

“Hangover…? That’s right, we drank together didn’t we?” 

“Mhm,” you agreed. “You more so than me though.” You stood up and walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge to see what you could make.

“What do you mean?”

Choosing to at least spare him of the embarrassment, you left some of the truth out. “You got really drunk, and started ranting about our co-workers.” 

“I- I didn’t say anything weird, did I?” He asked you worriedly. 

You pretended to think about it, “Hm...No. I don’t think so.” You took out a few ingredients before you spoke again. “You can go take a bath while I cook. You wouldn’t want to show up to work smelling like alcohol.”

“Right… I’ll go wash up.”

He left his spot and headed towards the bathroom. After he left, you let out a deep breath. “Ahhh!” You covered your face with your hands, “How am I supposed to face Kato-san now!?” You graced your bottom lip with your finger, “His lips… were soft too… But I can’t tell him about that! I’d die due to humiliation!”

While you were contemplating on what to do, you failed to notice the footsteps closing in on you. “(L/n)-san?” 

Startled by his voice, you jumped. “K-kato-san! What are you doing?”

“Oh, I forgot to take my clothes with me,” he gestured by shaking them in his hand, “and I wanted to make sure you were able to find what you needed.”

“Yeah, I found what I needed. Thank you for checking in on me.” He went back into the bathroom, and you heard the sound of the water running follow after. “I can’t make it obvious, or he’ll catch on. He’s really good at reading people. All I can do now is finish cooking breakfast, head to work, and throw myself into the void, to never be seen again.”

A few minutes later, Kato came out of the bath with a towel around his neck, his hair was still dripping. “You were right, (L/n)-san. I did thank you later.” 

You glanced over to him, “See, I told you so.” You arranged the food neatly on the plate and placed it on the table. 

He put his hands together, “Thanks for the food!”

You repeated after him, “Thanks for the food.”

Kato took a few bites of the food and smiled at the taste, “This is really good! You really are an amazing person.” You dropped your food as he said that. ‘Shit, he knew. He had to have known.’

“Umm… Kato-san… I-”

“I hope you know I really meant it, even if I was drunk. And what happened about calling me Haru,” he smirked at you, “(Y/n).”

“H-haru…” You tested his name out, still nervous about everything that’s happening. “I think you’re an amazing person too…”

“Glad we’re on the same page now. Let’s finish the food before it gets too cold, I wouldn’t want to put your cooking to waste.”

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

Alright, now that I've been given a few hours to stew and think and cry and have several breakdowns over the cancellation,,, let's talk about how I found this show, my relationship to it, and why I love this show

Anyone who's interacted with me in this fandom, be it over tumblr or in the discord know I started watching because my dance teacher was an extra in the Help! scene (bc I never shut the fuck up about it). But it did start a little earlier.

I had seen a few ads, on NBC and on YouTube. I thought it looked interesting, but I was in sophomore year, having breakdowns just about every other day, the homework was hard, and there were also reports of the virus. At the time it seemed so far away, but I had a feeling it would arrive soon. So it didn't seem like something I could add to my plate. I thought it would simply become another Good Girls to me (aka a show I really wanted to watch, and still kinda do, but I never really got around to it.) So, watching it kind of fell to the back of my mind. And then... that fateful day.

It was a big deal when the teacher would put on the TV in the main studio. It didn't happen often, and when it did, it always had to do with dance in some way. But my teacher was on YouTube and googling Zoey's. We sat down, I even grabbed my glasses so I could see what we were watching. We picked up at the ladies singing "Whatta Man" which the owner of my studio was howling at. I'm lucky enough that two of my teachers have been involved in Smuin Ballet in San Francisco, one still currently in the company (although she just had a baby and... y'know professional dance is hard in the pandemic.) I'm also lucky enough to have met another former Smuin dancer who was also an extra in the Help! scene. So, my teacher pointed himself and the other former Smuin dancer out, funnily enough, they were similarly dressed. So, the scene ended and we went on with our class. I went home and put on the first episode.

And then... well we all know what happened next. The US went into lockdown, and there wasn't much to do.

And yeah, I had school. I went into the two five pm history classes I had, I still had homework,,, but other than those two history classes and the occasion english class there was nothing... dance had stopped, homework, class, and the workload changed. Suddenly, I was left with a lot of free time. So, continued to watch Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist. For a while, it was Killing Eve and Zoey's Playlist, but then that went away, and it was just Zoey.

(also, yes, I'm aware this isn't linear and in chronological order, but give me a break, my memory is already shit and this pandemic just made it worse.)

In April, I wrote my first fanfiction for the show. It was this small, little piece of fluff that showed a future Zimon and their four kids (four kids, Jesus Christ, what was I onnnnnn). It's already outdated bc of my use of Eddie and not Perry but I still hold it very dear to my heart. It was posted on ao3 on Jun 13, 2020, and was my first fanfic on the site. I've posted more since then, but it's still overwhelmingly zep there, and I currently have two ongoing fanfics. My goal is to become that person in the zep fandom who is known for her works where people perceive Zimon's relationship, in a funny but wrong way (and when I say people, I (mostly) mean Tobin.)

I love Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist. It's made me laugh, made me cry, made me sing along with it, and made me actually fully enter a fandom. I've considered myself in fandom long before Zoey's, but Zoey's actually had me interacting with others. It's technically not my first fandom. I'd say that was Mighty Med, all the way back in sixth grade. But it's the first where I've actively interacted with others and even made an acquaintance (Isabella ily 💗).

Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist had moments that made it hard for me to love it the way I do. There have been some bad writing decisions. I personally don't ship cl*arkeman, even though it's clear they are endgame.

But, I still love it. It was a coping mechanism in a hard time, and I love that it helped me. And I know it helped others as well.

I know not everyone is going to understand my comparison to Cloak and Dagger. They are vastly different shows. But the cancellation... that's what gets me the most about both. They were both canceled in a way where the fandom was going to feel like crap. Both were canceled after two seasons when they had more story to tell. It was done quietly, and there was backlash. Different programs eyed them. The difference is we don't know how this one will end yet. Cloak and Dagger was canceled, and I'll never be the same. I'll never truly be over it. And while I know I'm not in the right headspace to process this cancellation, I think I may be able to find a way. It'll be really, really fucking hard. But I'm slowly getting there with Anne with an E, and I think I could with Zoey's. It was an incredible show while it lasted, and if it's its time to go... I'm glad for the time I had with it and will help keep it going along with others in the fandom. All that being said...

Save Zoey's Playlist

Start petitions (ig, idrk how change.org works), keep it trending on Twitter, let NBC know it made a mistake, and let other streaming services know we're interested in seeing the show go on. It deserves a clean resolution that's not a cliffhanger. Just let these characters be happy in the end.

This doesn't have to be another Cloak and Dagger, or Timeless, or whatever show anyone has felt never got a proper chance to tell its story and end in a satisfying way. It can be another Brooklyn Nine-Nine, or Lucifer, or Friday Night Lights (me, side-eyeing NBC for that one). This doesn't have to be the end. And maybe I'm too late to writing this, maybe it's not trending anymore and it won't trend again, and it won't get picked up. But at least we can say we tried.

This was long as fuck to write, and I could've put that time towards... idk homework ig, or writing the fanfiction I just started, or any of my ongoing two. But it felt it necessary to write this. I don't know why, maybe I just needed to get this shit off my chest. If no one in the fandom reads this... eh, I really can't blame you, it's long as all fuck.

If you did, and you got this far, I love you, I love this fandom, I don't regret my time here, and I hope you don't either. It means the world to me that you read this.

I love you all, and I'll shut up now 💖💗💖💗

[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Waffle Lot of Trouble (baon)

Summary: Edge has learned many things since he began his relationship with Stretch, gone to a variety of places, done so many things. Surely he can endure this travesty. Surely he can survive...the Waffle House.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

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“Explain to me why we are doing this?”

Edge followed Stretch through the door beneath the glowing sign and the reluctant drag of his boots did not stop his husband’s determined march.

“three reasons,” Stretch said. He did not loosen his hold on Edge’s hand, as if suspicious he might flee if given a chance and Edge couldn’t say he was wrong. “one, because i’m craving horrible unhealthy eats and your cooking, while delicious, doesn’t qualify. two, you’ve never been to a waffle house and it is an experience that everyone should enjoy—”

“Endure.”

“—enjoy,” Stretch insisted stubbornly. “which brings us to the third and most important reason. you love me.”

“I do,” Edge sighed. This wouldn’t be the first occasion that his adoration would take him to strange and sometimes fascinating places for unique meals. They used to do it quite often while they were still dating and Stretch was doing his weekly restaurant reviews for his twitter. Somehow the banquet had dwindled off as he slowly ran out of places in Ebott to review. It was a shame, really, and perhaps he should speak to Stretch about starting up again. There was no reason they couldn’t travel a bit further out of the city so long as proper security measures were taken. It would be enjoyable to find another small hole-in-the-wall or old family business eager to share their signature meal.

From the looks of this place, the food would be better left unsigned.

The booths looked as if they’d been torn straight from an old sitcom, padded red vinyl with the occasional patch attempting, and occasionally failing, to hold the stuffing in. It was a match to the stools lining the long counter, separated by little islands of napkins, condiments, and straws nestled together. The overhead lights were glaringly intense with one in the corner flickering with seizure inducing intensity and in the other corner was a jukebox to complete the scene in searing neon.

If horribly unhealthy food was what Stretch was craving, then he’d found its haven.

“c’mon,” Stretch tugged at his hand to pull him along and Edge’s dragging stride had nothing to do with the cane he was leaning on. His husband led the way to one of the booths, still chattering, “i used to come here all the time before we got together. sometimes when i couldn’t sleep, i’d sneak out and take the late bus out and sit here for half the night, taking up space.”

There were so many horrible things wrong with that statement that Edge couldn’t pick one to start with; the very idea of Stretch alone on the bus after midnight, or him here and equally alone, hanging out with the sort of Human patrons who were eager for cheap, greasy food in the wee hours, or the last indignity, that he’d hidden his excursions from his brother. Anything could have happened and the fact that it didn’t only barely kept Edge’s mouth shut.

Then his teeth ground together for another reason as they halted in front of one of the booths.

The table was the sort of sticky usually reserved for movie theater floors and while Edge tolerated it beneath his shoes, having it beneath his elbows, or worse, beneath Stretch’s bare hands, was entirely unacceptable.

Before he could give voice to one of his many protests, Stretch was already rummaging through his bag, this one with the chemical formula for caffeine boldly on the side. "don't worry, babe, got you covered."

He pulled out a package of disinfecting wipes and busied himself cleaning not only the tabletop, but also the plastic bench seats and even the salt and pepper shakers. Everything on the table got a thorough wipe down and as soon as the seat dried, Edge grudgingly sat. Much as he was relieved that Stretch came prepared, the fact that he knew to be prepared did not instill much faith.

He tried very hard not to think about the state of the kitchen.

Edge picked up one of the freshly wiped down menus to frown at. “You still haven’t explained to me why we needed to come at 3am. We could have come at noon for the lunch special.”

“nah, that’s for soccer moms and octogenarians,” Stretch scoffed. “you come at 3am ‘cause that's when you go to a waffle house, babe! it's a liminal space, a place of transition, where you cross over from one space to the next and—"

“If I’d known we’d be traveling so much I would have worn better shoes.”

“always got jokes, babe,” Stretch snickered. He lowered his voice, leaning in. “but seriously, look around.”

Edge was well familiar with the subtleties involved in a careful awareness of one’s surroundings. Without lifting his head, he looked around the diner. There were only four other customers, all of them with plates already in front of them. One a group of college-age Humans who might have been fashionably dressed up for the club a few hours earlier but now their makeup was running from sweat, their hair fallen and straggly, and simply by looking at them, he had a fair assessment of their current smell. The other person, who looked as if they might have been in prison as recently as last night, was forcefully shoveling what might have been hash browns into his mouth. It was difficult to tell; whatever it was had enough ketchup poured on top to give even Sans a pause and a moment to reconsider. He could very well have been eating shredded napkins beneath that thick layer of red.

None of the Humans paid him and Stretch any mind, so Edge silently wished the man good fortune on his recent parole and returned to looking at the menu while touching it as little as possible.

The door that presumable led to the kitchen swung abruptly open and a harried waitress came through it, coffeepot in hand. She didn’t so much as give them a second glance, only thunked down a pair of heavy white coffee mugs and poured them full to the brim.

“Be back to take your order in a minute,” she said distractedly.

“take your time.” Stretch was already tearing open sugar packets to add to his cup. He took a sip, grimaced, and added several more.

Edge reached for his own cup, already braced for whatever burnt dregs ended up as the primary flavor, when the ancient jukebox suddenly came to life, blaring out a jaunty 50’s style tune about raisins in toast. Edge jerked, cursing softly as he spilled hot coffee over his hand. He hastily stripped off his glove and turned to glare at the jukebox…except there was no one by it. No one else was even looking at the blasted thing.

A light touch on his hand sent him jerking back the other way, to find Stretch holding out a fresh pair of gloves for him with one hand as he continued to peruse the menu with the other.

“Thank you,” Edge sighed out. He dried his stinging hand with a napkin before sliding on the gloves.

"no prob. that happens sometimes," Stretch said absently. "the old waitress here swore the jukebox was haunted. whatcha getting?"

The sudden u-turn from the supernatural to the mundane was nearly enough to add to his whiplash. Edge picked up the menu again with his fingertips, still trying to touch it as little as possible. He doubted if Stretch’s supply of gloves was endless. "If I had blood and flesh, a tetanus shot. Since that isn't an option, I'll settle for the ubiquitous waffles.”

Not that he had any intention of eating anything. He only hoped that pushing it around his plate and perhaps mashing pieces with his fork would suffice. He added a silent prayer that he might be able resist the urge to slap Stretch’s plate away like a poisoned entrée before he carried his husband back out to the safety of their car. It would be a enduring struggle, he was certain.

Sudden shouts rose and Edge jerked again, turning to see that a set of the college-ish humans were engaged in a combination of shrieking and hairpulling, while their companions shouted at them, in encouragement or deterrence, it was difficult to tell.

As quick as it began, it ended, and they all returned to the table, eating their fries and cheese sticks while one held a napkin to their bleeding nose and the other, a glass of ice water against her swelling eye.

“Stretch—” Edge began, low. The best waffles in the world weren’t worth putting his husband anywhere near this sort of danger and certainly not the greasy globs of fried dough that were on offer here.

“hmm?” He turned back to see his husband hadn’t even seemed to notice the brief outbreak of brawling three booths away. Stretch only flipped the menu over and frowned, “dunno, maybe i’ll get the hash brown bowl this time, what do you th—"

He broke off at the sound of shouting from the kitchen, the entire restaurant turning to watch a burly man in an apron storm out, the waitress at his heels. Whatever his complaint, it was difficult to parse around the vigorous swearing, words that might even manage to bring a hint of a blush to his brother’s face.

Might.

What couldn’t be mistaken was his last shout, two clear, concise words. “I quit!”

The gathered assembly watched as the man ripped off his apron and tossed it on the counter, stalking out the front doors and out of their lives.

A long moment of silence, then Stretch grumbled out, “aw, man, not again. why do they always quit in the middle of the night, this is the third time!”

The waitress only stood there, a helpless expression on her weary face. She turned to them, “Sorry, guys, the next cook isn’t in until six.”

“nah, it’s cool,” Stretch sighed and started to get to his feet. “we’ll have to try again another time, babe.”

The waitress began gathering their unused silverware and Edge could hear her miserable sniffle as he followed Stretch towards the door. She was very young, and as terrible as Edge was at guessing Human ages, he suspected if she’d been a Monster, she would have been barely out of stripes. “Don’t suppose either of you cook?”

Edge paused.

In front of him, Stretch also stopped when he realized Edge was no longer following him, the reluctant leash of his hand becoming a stubborn brake. “what are you…” His expression changed, his sockets narrowing. “babe. no.”

Edge said nothing, only looked back at Stretch and watched his growing outrage, “no! you wouldn’t let me work at the haunted house that time! that guy would’ve paid us at the end of the night, we could’ve been their best workers! bet you could’ve gotten a ton of macho men to wet their pants without breaking a sweat!”

“She needs help,” Edge said, quietly. He did not bring up the ending debacle of their haunted house trip that landed them in the parking lot after an unintentional shortcut, a prudent choice when persuading Stretch.

Stretch faltered, looking around him at the waitress. Who was near tears, fruitlessly trying to call someone on her cell phone who wasn’t picking up. He blew out a sharp breath, rolling his pale eye lights, but his faint smile was unmistakable.

“always got to be the hero, don’t you,” Stretch sighed. He jerked a thumb back into the diner. “go ahead, superman, have at it.”

Edge nodded and turned back, walking over to the young waitress determinedly. “Excuse me, miss.”

It was only five o’clock in the morning when the other cook arrived, still bleary-eyed and his hair sticking up in the back. He didn’t ask about the newly shiny cleanliness of the grill, nor the fryers. And the counters. The floor. Even the mysterious dark smudge that forever haunted the smoke hood was gone, but he had no questions. He merely grunted a greeting and took possession of the equally shiny spatula, already reaching for the eggs that were sizzling on the griddle.

Edge removed his spotless apron and hung it on the peg by the door. He gave the kitchen a last satisfied look, then went out the door.

Out in the dining area in a corner booth, his husband was curled up, asleep. His skull sagged back against the worn vinyl padding, his mouth open, and a faint snore escaping on each exhale. An oversized leather jacket was spread over him that was not Edge’s and certainly wasn’t his own, Edge reached for it with a frown, lifting it off him in a jangle of chains and zippers.

“I’ll take that off ya hands.” He turned to see last night’s possible parolee holding out a hand. Wordlessly, Edge handed over the jacket and the Man shrugged into it. “He was shiverin’, didn’t want to bother ya while you was giving Anna a hand. So I kept an eye on ‘im.”

“Thank you,” Edge told him softly. The man gave him a gap-toothed smile.

“Nah, thank you for helpin’ her out,” the man said gruffly, “She’s a good kid, couldn’t afford to the lose the paycheck for the night.”

“Ready to go, daddy?” They turned as the Anna in question, the waitress, came out of the kitchen, coat in hand. Another waitress was already speaking to the other early morning customers, coffee in hand and waffles on order.

“Ready when you are, kid.” The man turned and shuffled to the door, but Anna paused by Edge.

“Thank you,” she said. Tears were brimming in her eyes, unshed. “Thank you so much.”

“It was my pleasure,” he told her, honestly. A few hours of cooking and deep cleaning was soothing to him in its own way, body and soul, and while his leg was beginning to complain, the rest of him felt nothing but deep, almost luxurious peace.

She gave him a happy smile and went after her father.

Edge watched her go, then turned back to Stretch, who was already stirring without the protection of the jacket. “hummzat?” he mumbled out, and when Edge reached out to gently cup his cheekbone in one hand, he learned with drowsy contentment into the touch.

“We can go home now,” Edge told him softly. He did not expect that sleepy look to turn to one of dismay, his sockets going wide.

“but we didn’t get any waffles!” Stretch said, with deep layers of disappointment. It was true; he’d fallen asleep before Edge even figured out the industrial waffle iron.

Edge only shook his head and took a seat on the other side of the booth, “All right then, waffles it is. You were right, you know.”

“hm?” Stretch yawned, “’bout what?”

“I did cross over from one space to the next,” Edge said, solemnly. He kept his expression as straight as a ruler, concealing even the hint of a smile. “A transition, if you will, into a liminal space—”

“i didn’t mean from the dining room to the kitchen,” Stretch grumbled. But he reached out to give Edge’s hand a brief squeeze, his thumb brushing over the ring on his third finger.

“Nevertheless,” Edge picked up a menu, though by now he knew it by heart. “Now. What are you having?”

-finis-

[chaseatinydream]

morning fix || k.hj (atz)

➼ pairing: reader x kim hongjoong (ateez)

➼ word count: 4516

➼ genre: barista au; fluff

➼ synopsis: “i’ve been missing you a latte lately.”

You always go to this specific café for your morning fix.

Every morning, without fail, before the start of lessons, even when you don’t have lessons, you always make sure to head to the Twilight Café to grab a cup of coffee. Your friends tease you occasionally, saying that the baristas must add mermaid’s tears or dragon’s blood into the coffee as some sort of secret ingredient, because there’s no other way they could get you coming back for more every single day so religiously. You merely smile over the rim of your coffee cup, thinking “Well, they’re not completely wrong.”

But the secret ingredient isn’t in the coffee.

It’s the barista, Kim Hongjoong.

The handsome young man that is Kim Hongjoong has been working at Twilight ever since you entered the college, but even though you've sat at one of quaint tables by the window side more than once just to admire his dream like features, you've never actually... noticed him in particular.

Most, or might you be so bold as to proclaim, all of the staff in Twilight are remarkably good looking, so Kim Hongjoong had just been another pretty face. Sure, he was one that you might have vaguely recognized out on the streets, but not really one that had stood out to you very significantly.

Until that day.

You'd stayed awake the entire night prior, rushing though your year end projects which had been due the next day. There was a presentation that you had to do today that counted towards your final grade, but winging it with less than eight hours of sleep in the last two days didn't sound very promising. You needed a morning fix before attempting to ... and you needed it fast.

So, exactly five minutes before your presentation had begun, you had dashed over to Twilight faster than the speed of light, panting for a cup of hot coffee over the counter.

The barista, whose face you had recognised vaguely, had looked shocked for a moment as he took in your flustered, unkempt state. You probably looked like you’d been run over by a backing car several times over, with dark bags under your eyes and an even darker expression on your face.

Time had passed by agonisingly slow, drop by drop, as you watched the hot liquid of the coffee trickle into the cup much too slowly for your liking. Every hair on your body was crawling with impatience, the seemingly insignificant ticking of the second hand of the clock on the wall grating on your ears like nails scratching over the surface of a chalkboard, your teeth grinding together as you watched the barista scribble something on your cup-

“Could you please hurry up?” The words came out harsher than you had intended, and for a split second the cute barista flinched from the viciousness of your voice before he managed to pull an apologetic smile together on his face. Quickly, he passed you your cup of coffee, piping hot and smelling of sweet caramel, lowering his head apologetically.

“I’m truly sorry, miss.”

Something had tugged at you, perhaps it was a little bit of guilt, a little twist in your gut, but then the clock and its damn incessant ticking caught your attention before you could say a word of ‘sorry’ to the poor barista. Two more minutes before your presentation was due. Glancing desperately between the young man and the minute hand steadily inching closer and closer to twelve, you made up your mind.

You’d apologise to him next time.

So, grabbing your coffee, you had turned and dashed out of the shop.

The coffee had been amazing, aromatic, fragrant, and ultimately strong and sweet enough to keep you awake throughout the whole presentation. In fact, it had been so good that after drinking it, you had felt absolutely awful for taking out your stress on the barista from earlier. Maybe there really was some sort of secret ingredient in the coffee.

With the resolution to apologise to that poor barista firmly in your mind, you had lifted a hand to dispose of the cup, but before you could let go of it, some ink markings on the paper sleeve caught your eye.

You frowned.

Why hadn’t you seen that before?

Sliding the sleeve out of the cup, you had turned it around carefully to read the writing on the surface. And to your immense discomfort, two very opposing emotions blossomed in you at the same time.

You look stressed, so have an extra sugar to make today even more sweet! I hope everything goes well for you :) Cheering you on!

For a moment, warmth that reminded you of knit sweaters and freshly brewed lattes rose in your chest. Then, you paused, sighed and stared at the innocent paper sleeve for a long second, before tucking it in your pocket, the sleeve feeling unnaturally heavy.

“I really need to apologise to him.”

And so you had.

The first time you’d returned to the cafe, awkward and a little uneasy, he was already there, wiping down the counter with a clean cloth. Luckily for you, the cafe was mercifully empty, most of the student body that used to frequent the place currently at lectures or back at the dorms. Back turned to you, he was humming along to the song playing over the radio, blissfully unaware of your presence. You were tempted to just give up on the plan and run for the door, but you steeled yourself with a determined exhale and clenched fists. No! You had to apologise!

You squeezed your eyes shut and tapped on the bell at the counter.

“Hello, welcome to Twlight Caf-” The barista turned around with a wide smile, ready to greet you... until he saw your face.

For a second, he faltered, nearly dropped his cloth too, before his mouth pressed into a thin, nervous line. Your heart sank, did he think you were here to complain about him, or something along those lines? He tried to force a smile onto his face, but it looked fake, like a mask of clay.

You hated it.

“Excuse me, miss, but is there something you need-”

Sucking in a deep breath to calm your nerves, you shoved a piece of paper forward into his hands.

He glanced down in surprise, he hadn’t expected that in the least. The paper was a crumpled post-it, a little torn around the edges and a little damp from sweat, but the words written on it were clear as day.

A latte, just like how you made it for me that day.

And beneath that, in smaller writing:

I’m sorry.

The polite smile on his face slid right off and for a moment, you were almost worried he might reject your apology. But before you could hightail it out of there with your tail between your legs, another smile, brighter and so much genuine than before pulled at the corners of his mouth, turning his face from show-stoppingly handsome to near radiant like the sun itself.

Then he grinned at you, cuter than a man his age should be able to look, and you swore that your heart sputtered to a stop in your chest for a long, dangerous second.

Oh no.

“One ‘I’m Sorry’, coming right up.” He teased, a smirk playing on his lips, a little mischievous, near devilish, almost, and you had merely stared at him with your mouth hanging wide open, unable to believe that he’d just teased you like that.

When he passed the steaming cup of espresso and milk to you a few moments later, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee tickling the edge of your nose, you had smiled and thanked him a little awkwardly in disbelief, nearly tripping on your way out of the cafe.

And when you glanced at the paper sleeve of the cup once more, you saw the exact same handwriting there, neatly scribbled at the side in black marker.

You need to buy another 50 cups of coffee before I forgive you! See you around, Sugar!

You didn’t know why a furious blush spread across your cheeks at those words, or why a smile tugged at your own lips at the stupid nickname, but you slipped off the paper sleeve off the cup once more as you passed by the trash bin.

And put the sleeve into your pocket once again.

Have an amazing day >.< you can do it! (○｀･Д･´)9

You look down today :((( Have three sugars to sweeten that pretty smile of yours! Don’t forget to brush your teeth tonight, though!

Your smile is sweeter than sugar, but here’s some more to make it even more irresistible! All the best for your interview today!

How are guys just like coffee? The best ones are rich, hot, and can keep you up all night! :D (okay that was embarrassing ignore that i’m not that kind of guy-)

Oh no ;-; you stayed up all night! Don’t worry, I can’t see those eye bags, you still look like you’re going to crush today amazingly! Here’s a cup to start your day off on the right foot!

Why did the coffee file a police report? Because it was mugged :”D (please forgive his bad jokes he was googling them at 3am in the morning) THAT WAS JONGHO IGNORE HIM PLEASE

I’ve been thinking about you a latte lately SAN STOP THAT’S JUST WEIRD-

(ง •̀ω•́)ง✧ nearly at the weekend! You can do this, Sugar! The boys have been teasing me a lot πーπ but hmpf ignore them if they say anything silly to you! Visit the café on the weekends too, I’ll make a special treat for you if you do!

You sit at the couch in your dorm room, flipping through the stack of paper sleeves in your hands fondly. Each sleeve documents the journey of your blooming friendship with the barista behind the counter of Twilight Cafe, the one who works the morning shift and has a smile sweeter than sugar itself, Kim Hongjoong.

Your finger traces the last one fondly, the one he’d given you yesterday as you had rushed to your next lecture. Waving you off with a bright smile, he’d given you a small wink and a grin, one that made your own cheeks flush bright pink and a smile to bloom on your face, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

It’s Saturday today, and you’re blessedly free from any lectures or lessons, a rare occasion. But then again, Hongjoong has indeed promised you a cup of special coffee if you swing by the café, so shaking your head at just how soft you are for that boy, you slip on a pair of shoes and make your way across the campus grounds.

The bell chimes as you push the door open and Hongjoong immediately turns around to grin at you as you enter. Smiling, you slide him a yellow post-it across the counter and he grabs it eagerly, eyes scanning the words with excitement. As strange as it is, you and Hongjoong have actually never spoken a word to each other verbally, instead communicating through your little post-its and paper sleeves.

As much as coffee’s part of your morning fix, Kim Hongjoong has become part of your daily routine, slowly inching his way into becoming an integral part of your life.

I made it through the week thanks to Hongjoong’s special ‘I’m Sorry’ latte! Surprise me today ;)

Hongjoong looks up from the note to salute at you playfully and your heart flutters, before tucking the post-it in his pocket and moving to brew your coffee. Studying the way he moves, you watch his able hands as they work the machine, adding syrup and sugar just the way you like it. But everything he does looks familiar to you, as if you’ve seen it a hundred times (which to be fair, you probably have), nothing out of the ordinary. You cock your head to the side in confusion.

A few minutes later, he sets the cup in front of you, but this time, he’s nervously wringing his hands, fiddling with the hem of his navy blue apron as his gaze darts around, never lingering on your face for long. Then he squeaks out a hurried ‘goodbye’, barely intelligible, and flees into the back faster than you can blink, the other two baristas on shift now, San and Jongho, howling with laughter behind the machine. You’re a little befuddled, but you take the coffee all the same and exit the shop, glancing down at the paper sleeve.

Made with Love. Drink me!

Your heart melts into a puddle of something warm and fuzzy for a second at his sweet words and you smile fondly, raising the tab on the lid to take a sip. Then you freeze in your tracks, staring at what is written there with wide eyes, your mouth falling open.

It’s Hongjoong’s handwriting, alright.

XX XXXX XXXX

Call-ffee (Call me) maybe?

You reach for your phone faster than you ever have in your life, keying in the numbers with the urgency of a life and death situation. The last time he’s spoke to you had been the day you apologised to him, and for the first time in a year, you’re going to hear his voice.

The dial tone cuts off. The call has gone through.

A male voice, jumpy with nerves but still smooth as well brewed coffee, comes over the phone.

“Sugar?”