#my idea when i started this was to link up all the bits and pieces ive collected but there's so many

[calamarispiderart]

hello hello!!! random question before i get started on work haha

how do you come up with dialogue for ur hms comics? the back n forth of them feels so heavy and realistic. especially the casualness paired with the bleeding-brooding (alliteration for fun) violence makes everything just. hit. in a tragic and hopeless way imo. it’s so neat :0

i’ve been trying that kind of writing out a bit lately too. this is what i’ve managed with my iambic pentameter gang (hms but rain world iterator). MiND is being threatened by the rage pent up inside himself. and, strangely enough, it has the voice of HeART.

constructive feedback is welcome ^_^!

once again, hello hello! sending good wishes and all :]. i love ur work ^_^ 💛

oooo hmm... this isnt something ive ever really thought about trying to explain, thank you for the question! big fan of the posing in the piece youve added here btw, i like the alliteration in 'heliocentric heathen' B:•∆

honestly the way i go about writing them isnt something i feel i can put into words with a clear structure of process... often with my comics it starts with me simply having a vague idea of 'i want to make a comic today', and drawing what feels right to lead into it. the words typically link in with the actions as well - i usually draw something, draw the next thing, write a bit of dialogue, draw the next thing, write more dialogue.... not in that exact order but the words always feel to be a reaction to the actions and the actions are a reaction to the words (and/or, words and actions work in tandem). people rarely talk in a vacuum, especially when theyre having the conversation in person, so i find it helpful to see the actions as part of the dialogue and vice versa.

occasionally ive scripted out dialogue beforehand (always with actions included within the script.) but even with a script what actually is said needs to adjust with whats been drawn. when i dont write with a script (which is the norm), its often while im drawing the next frame that im thinking over whats being said. typically i just go over and over a sentence mentally, adjusting bits until it feels right, looking at it once its written on the page and adjusting it more if necessary.

perhaps a bit vague? apologies! i do have certain mental rules i try keep in mind for each of the threes characters while writing. 'how would heart respond, how would he word this? mind? i cant word it this way because i know he doesnt do this...' <subconscious questions and thoughts but they are important to keep in mind. i find it the most helpful to keep the core traits i personally see in them in mind, and let those traits kind of... guide what is said. if i think of how that collection of traits and facets would respond to something, the vague concept that creates can then go through the filters of dialogue traits i have in mind for them. ...ehhh, put more simply... 'what is the general response this character would have to this situation' and then 'how would they structure that response through words and/or actions?'.

i, being who i am, cccc being what it is, am somewhat naturally inclined to writing grim and bleeding-brooding (nice word) things. i also consider myself to be quite a grounded person, which i hope comes through in my work! however, natural inclinations aside, cccc itself is quite a bleeding-brooding album (at least it is to me). its one about depression and self hatred and it really doesnt pull many punches in that respect. or at least, thats my read on it! as a result, that becomes reflected in my interpretation of hms. however, id also note that cccc is silly at times, theres humor in it. all good grim things need a bit of levity to really make it feel Real... people joke in the worst of times, not just the best, and it really helps in writing serious things to have just a little bit of joke to it, even if its not immediately noticable... this is hard to really give examples of honestly but it is relevant i promise. im unsure if youve read much of my writing aside from my comics, but theres just a bit of absurdity and humor in both my cccc pieces that would make the writing feel sorely lacking without in my opinion. notable with how violent and tense both those pieces are.

lots of words now! hopefully helpful ones B:•] or at least interesting! ill try write out some of the core traits and details i keep in mind when writing hms so as to give better reference points to all my prior words:

heart: reactive, not instigative. he doesnt start fights, he finishes them. he also doesnt need an insane amount of prompting to get going... but he does need prompting. apathetic, a bit fanciful. hes depressed, and not in a cute way. he talks casually but he uses serious words. no point in simplifying his language - he wants to be taken seriously, and while he makes himself look small and weak at times he is Not weak and he is Not small. hes just as much of a wordsmith as the other two. he covers his mouth when he speaks sometimes, and he puts his hand over his chest... a bit defensive? muffling his own input, but notably he still speaks. lies by omission or by twisting facts - if full honesty helps his case, thats what he uses. if a white lie works better... i personally see him as a bit of a planner too. sometimes his reaction to things is built up to; it never comes out of nowhere, even if it may seem like it.

mind: instigative, less reactive. he still reacts to things but hes generally the one starting shit and hes honestly very bad at Not talking shit. uses contractions. <this is a small one but mind says 'dont' and 'cant' and i dont think ive ever heard him Not use contractions to any notable degree. kind of weak! hes proud of himself, very proud of himself, and even in the moments of the album where theyre getting along he cant drop his superiority complex. hes bad at making compromises that put him as the lesser one. hes also quick to point blame and to lie (even if hes a bit roundabout abt it). hes also not That smart - or at least, hes not any smarter than the other two. he Thinks hes smart and hes quite confident about that but that doesnt actually mean hes right lol. aggressive verbally, passive physically. hypocritical.

both of them tend to see soul as an afterthought, or as something to benefit from. note the 'something', not 'someone'. imo, they dont really see him as a valid living entity in the same way they see themselves. speaking of soul...

soul: hes difficult. hes a difficult and complicated guy. vague, fanciful, depressed, suicidal, tired... i personally see him as quite passive. both passive and active... hes violent, towards himself and towards the others. just as they dont see him as an individual, i believe hes too apathetic and burnt out to see them as individuals either. when he threatens to hang himself, thats a direct threat to the two if them as well - and it functions as one, seeing as they are all linked in that way! his suicidality isnt purely self destructive in the way it would be in other story contexts which i find important to remember. i see him as someone who sleeps a lot... and as someone who is treated more like a tool than anything else. but he is, simultaneously, idealistic. he hopes for the best and would do anything (Anything.) to try and achieve it. he wants things to Get Better or to Stop. most of the time when i write or draw him its within the 'Stopping is the only option to Get Better' stage of things. hes tired and he doesnt want to deal with things but he has to and he doesnt want to and hes at the end of his rope. honestly within the album he feels a bit like a ghost. hes granted a similar level of personhood as the shadow of what could be, which is both more and less than mind and heart get.... hes confusing! hea a difficult guy. honestly you can take a lot of my notes and thoughts on his character with a grain of salt because hes always been such a puzzle to me haha. i find him easiest to convey in art... OH yes one last thought/trait is hes a bit... arrogant? hes tired and hes careless. listen to me or fuck off and die. arrogant. what a guy.

ahaaha this kinda became me just rambling about my reads on the three but.. hopefully helpful!! this is all stuff i try keep in mind when im writing and drawing them. theres certainly nuances ive missed and things i havent worded as well as i could, but you get the idea i hope! all of that informs how i write them and... in a way they almost lead me through the piece.

also! this isnt something i often think about because its just a natural part of the process, but sometimes i end up scrapping stuff! entire paragraphs, panels and poses, because it hits a stasis where i cant find any way for one or the other to continue the interaction - theres a distinct difference between this and the interaction hitting its ending point. if ive written one person saying or doing something and none of the parties involved are able to respond in any way at all, thats a sign that ive conveyed their characters wrong and i need to go back. people *always* have a response to something, whether thats continuing the conversation or leaving or anything. if none of them can come up with a response that feels like them, ive messed up somewhere. dont be afraid to go back and rewrite things.

ummm yeah thats all i can think of to say now! thank you for the question, and thank you for the nice words!! B:•∆ im very happy my comics come off the way youve described, and very happy youve enjoyed my work enough to want to ask me about it!! means a lot to me B:•] your rainworld iterator hms concept sounds swag as hell, id just say to keep at it!! from what youve shown here youve already got a great start B:•∆ thank you again! hope you and anyone else reading this has a good week!

[felassan]

EuroGamer: 'BioWare knew the deepest secrets of Dragon Age lore 20 years ago, and locked it away in an uber-plot doc'

Original creator David Gaider on how "some of the big mysteries are being solved".

Rest of post under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

"As I write about the secrets hidden in Dragon Age's mysterious Fade, and as I uncover some of them playing Dragon Age: The Veilguard, one question keeps rising up in my mind. How much did BioWare know about future events when first developing the series more than 20 years ago? That's a long time, and back then BioWare didn't know there would be a second game, which is why Dragon Age: Origins has an elaborate and far-reaching epilogue. Why lay so much lore-track ahead of yourself if you don't think you'll ever get there? But look more closely at Origins and there are big clues suggesting BioWare did know about future Dragon Age events. There are obvious signs in the original game, such as establishing recurring themes like Old Gods and the Blight and Archdemons. But there's also Flemeth, Morrigan's witchy mother, who's intimately linked to events in the series now - more specifically: intimately linked to Solas. Does her existence mean Solas was known about back then too? There's only one person I can think of to answer this and it's David Gaider, the original creator of Dragon Age's world and lore. We've talked before, once in a podcast and once for a piece on the magic of fantasy maps, where we discussed the creation of Dragon Age's world. And much to my surprise, when I ask him what he and the BioWare team knew back then, he says they knew it all. "By the time we released Dragon Age: Origins, we were basically sure that it was one and done, but there was, back when we made the world, an overarching plan," he says. "The way I created the world was to seed plots in various parts of the world that could be part of a game, a single game, and then there was the overall uber-plot, which I didn't know for certain that we would ever get to but I had an understanding of how it all worked together. "A lot of that was in my head until we were starting Inquisition and the writers got a little bit impatient with my memory or lack thereof, so they pinned me down and dragged the uber-plot out of me. I'd talked about it, I'd hinted at it, but never really spelled out how it all connected, so they dragged it out of me, we put it into a master lore doc, the secret lore, which we had to hide from most of the team.""

"This uber-plot document was only viewable on a need-to-know basis, he says, and only around 20 people on the team had access to it - other senior writers mostly. And even though Gaider left the Dragon Age team after Inquisition, and then eight years ago BioWare altogether, meaning he didn't work on The Veilguard at all, he believes - by looking at the events in the new game - his uber-plot lore "has more or less held up". That's impressive. What's even more impressive, or exciting, is that back then he also envisaged a potential end state for the entire Dragon Age series - a point at which it would make no sense for the series to carry on. "I always had this dream of where it would all end, the very last plot," he says, "which I won't say because who knows, we could still end up there. But the idea that this uber-plot was this sort of biggest, finite... That the final thing you could do in this world that would break it was there as a 'maybe we would get to do that one day'... There was just the idea of certain big, world-shaking things that were seeded in that arc, some of which have already come to pass, like the return of Fen'Harel." You've read that correctly: the idea to have Fen'Harel, also known as the Dread Wolf, reappear, was seeded all the way back then, way before Inquisition - the game in which he does actually reappear. But the concept for Solas, as a character who was Fen'Harel in disguise, was a newer idea. "That spawned from a conversation I had with Patrick [Weekes] and a number of other writers," Gaider says, "as an idea of 'what if you had a villain that spent an entire game where he's actually in the party and you get to know him?' Now, the god version and his larger role in the plot, yes that was known, but not that he would be presented as a character named Solas." Fen'Harel being known about means the other elven gods were known about, which means all of that stuff Solas reveals about his godly siblings - that they're not gods at all but evil elven mages he locked away behind the Veil - was known about back then too. "Oh yeah," Gaider says. "Everything that Solas tells you [at the end of Inquisition DLC, Trespasser]: it's all part of that original uber-lore - that was all in our mind." But why have so much lore if you're not certain you'll get to ever realise it? Well, to create a believable illusion. By creating an "excess" of lore, as Gaider describes it, Origins made Thedas feel like an old and believable place. A place with history, rather than a Western set that was all facade and no substance."

"BioWare also did something canny with the lore it did relay then, too: it shared it through the voices of characters living in the world, making it inherently fallible. In doing this, Dragon Age veiled its truths behind biases. The church-like organisation of the Chantry proclaims one truth, while the elves and dwarves proclaim another. Sidenote: you can experience this yourself through different racial origin stories in Dragon Age: Origins. This way, there's no one, objective, irrefutable, truth. "To get the truth, you kind of have to pick between the lines," Gaider says. So even though elven legends are coming true through the existence of Solas and The Veilguard's antagonist gods, it doesn't mean that's the one and only truth. There's truth in what the Chantry teaches and what the dwarves say, he tells me, which ignites my curiosity intensely. BioWare has also been tricksy in how it's rubbed out the lore the further back in time you go. "In general, the further the history goes back, we always would purposefully obfuscate it more and more," Gaider says - "make it more biased and more untrue no matter who was talking, just so that the absolute truth was rarely knowable. I like that idea from a world standpoint, that the player always has to wonder and bring their own beliefs to it." It leads into a founding principle of Dragon Age, which is doubt - because without it, you can't have faith, a particularly important concept in the series. It's where the whole idea of the Chantry's Maker comes from and with it, the legend about the fabled Golden City - now the Black City - at the heart of the Fade. This is the very centre of the lore web, and, I imagine, it's close to the series endpoint Gaider imagined long ago. All secrets end there. Did Gaider know what was in the Black City when he laid down Origins' lore? That's the question - and it startles me how casually he answers this. "Oh, yeah," he says. "What was in the Black City: that's the uber-plot. I knew exactly. "Was it as detailed in the first draft of the world?" he goes on. "No. I had an idea of the early history because that's where I started making the world. So the things that were true early-early: I knew exactly what the Black City was and the idea of what the elves believed, and what humans believed vis-a-vis the Chantry - that was all settled on really early. Then I expanded the world and the uber-plot bubbled out of that.""

"Gaider shows me the original cosmology design document for Dragon Age: Origins as if to prove this - or rather for the game that would become DAO. The world was known as Peldea back then. I can't share this with you because I see it via a shared screen on a video call, and because Gaider doesn't want me to, mostly because the ideas are so old they're almost unrecognisable from what's in the series now. But I can tell you it's a document that's just over a page in length, and that there's a circular diagram at the top showing the world in the middle and the spirit realm ringed around it. And on that document is reference to the Chantry's beliefs about a God located in a citadel that can be found there. Gaider says BioWare knew about Fen'Harel (the Dread Wolf) 20 years ago when it was developing Dragon Age: Origins, and that he'd one day reappear. The Fade wasn't known as the Fade back then, either, but as the Dreaming, because it's the place people go when they dream - an idea that lives on still. And if that sounds familiar to any fans of The Sandman among you, it should. "I'd say The Sandman series was probably fairly prominently in my head," says Gaider. "I liked that amorphous geography that was born from the psyche of collective humanity. I'd say yes, if I was to point at something specifically, that's probably where the very first inspiration of it took root." It's a lot to take in, but it reinforces the admiration I have for Dragon Age. Just as I have when hearing about the creation of my other favourite fantasy worlds, such as A Song of Ice and Fire, I begin to understand the magnitude - and the deliberateness - of the plotting that went on. I wonder if one day the Dragon Age series will end in the way Gaider first imagined, albeit slightly altered by the many other pairs of hands shepherding it along now. What a curious feeling it must be to know, so many years in advance, where things might go. Where that end is, I don't know, but I do know we'll take a significant step towards it in The Veilguard. After all, we're coming into contact with gods who were there at the recorded beginning of it all. "Yeah - we have access to people who can tell us the truth from first-hand experience," Gaider says, "although again, it depends on what the writers did with it. But if they continued the tradition of Dragon Age, you never know for sure if Solas is telling you everything, or what you're learning is the entire truth. "But yes, some of the big mysteries are being solved. I mean, will they one day definitively tell you about the Maker? Will we crack the big mysteries of the world and just make them answered finally? And does that ruin one of the central precepts that Dragon Age is founded upon? Maybe," he says. "Ultimately, that lore, when you make it big and you hint at it and hint at it and hint at it, it becomes a Chekhov's Gun of sorts. Eventually you got to pony up.""

[source]

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part One

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: You don't show up to a meeting or report for other duties as a Spider Society member because of your period. Your boss shows up to your apartment. Word Count: 5,144 Warning: A little bit of angst?; Mention of death; menstruation, cramps A/N: There's multiple pieces of fan art for this fic. If you'd like to check it out, you can find everything linked in my masterlist! Masterlist Music Inspo (Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage Next Part

Part One

You were recruited four months ago into the Spider Society. Ever since the beginning, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards the leader and founder of the society. You learned quickly about his past and the way he carried himself these days.

Miguel O’Hara worked day and night. If he wasn’t in his lab working on something, he was out on missions with a select few members or on his own. There were days that you wouldn’t even see him. You wondered if anyone did on those days. You told yourself to mind your business. It’s not like you were friends and you hardly interacted anyway. You were a member of the Spider Society but one of the newest ones. You weren’t part of the most trusted members for Miguel.

And yet… There was something. You felt a need to look after him. You couldn’t understand it. You wanted to chalk it up to interest. Maybe you found his story interesting. How a man had simply replaced a version of himself in another universe to be a father, only to lose her when that universe collapsed. How heartbroken and guilt-filled he was over it. That had to be it, you told yourself. It was just intrigue. 

You figured that if you just gave in to your interest, it would go away eventually. It would fade away… So, you allowed yourself to be interested. You showed up to meetings earlier than anyone else when Miguel scheduled them. You stopped by the cafeteria to pick up coffee cups beforehand and arrived at the meeting earlier. You came in, looking unbothered and uninterested as you placed the cup of coffee in front of him, greeting him.

“The cafeteria staff gave me another cup, and I didn’t know what to do with it,” you’d say as he looked up with an uninterested look on his face.

You’d walk away and take a seat a few chairs away, picking up the nicely done reports he provided at every meeting. You did this every week with a different excuse each time. You didn’t know if he ever wondered why the cafeteria staff gave you so much coffee since that was usually your excuse. You doubted he even cared; you were just another member.

The first few times, you noticed the cup would sit in the same exact spot you’d leave it. Miguel wouldn’t even acknowledge it after looking up at you. You still brought it each week. After some weeks, he wouldn’t even look up when you placed the cup in front of him on the desk but – he started giving you a small grunt of acknowledgement. You’d walk away with a little grin, quickly putting it away when you sat down on your usual seat so he wouldn’t notice it.

Then about two weeks later, you saw it. As he was going over the reports and listening to Ben Reilly ramble on about his past because of some anomaly he caught that week, he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. You looked away as you felt his gaze about to turn to you. The reports looked very interesting indeed.

All throughout this, you also started showing up to his lab after he and Jessica requested to see you about a mission. You noticed there was quite a mess of gadgets lying around. You offered to organize it, as it is something you enjoy and are good at. You didn’t even know why you offered but Jessica seemed eager about the idea while Miguel frowned.

“Oh, come on, Miguel. Some organization around here wouldn’t hurt, you know? Look at this mess,” Jessica said looking around, pointing at different areas cluttered with all sorts of tech pieces.

“Fine,” Miguel said as he walked away, apparently done with the conversation.

Jessica beamed at you. She seemed to like you a lot since you did your job well and didn’t get into any drama. You were like the perfect pupil. You nodded at her, with a warm smile.

So that’s how you ended up showing up once a week to Miguel’s lab to do some organizing. You show up and organize as he works on something. Sometimes he is up in the air on his platform, going through monitors. You simply greet him as you arrive before you begin organizing and cleaning. Sometimes there is no response, other times there is just a “hmm”.

These visits have led to Lyla taking a liking to you. She often asks you questions as you work while Miguel is there. You don’t know if he pays attention to what Lyla and you talk about. You honestly doubt he even listens. He is always so engrossed in what he is doing.

Lyla definitely makes the time pass faster. It isn’t like you wanted it to but the silence in the lab is… off sometimes. Lyla asks you all sorts of things like whether you have plans for that weekend, if you enjoy a certain activity because other spider members enjoy it, if you like a certain food, or how missions have gone, etc. It is always something different. You respond to her questions as you work. You are fast and efficient.

You never miss a week, and you are never late as you have made it a habit to show up at the same time. Except this week that is. You started your period and this month is kicking your butt with excruciating cramps and lower back pain. You barely make it to your home after patrolling your city, sliding into bed in pain.

You dig through your nightstand, looking for the specific medicine you take to take care of this even if it makes you extremely drowsy and dizzy. You take it and lie down, hoping it will help right away as you groan in pain. You lie in bed, clutching your stomach. The medicine definitely makes you drowsy and dizzy, but it doesn’t seem to help much with the pain. You pass out a few times but wake up again, the pain too much.

You’re so out of it that you don’t notice the time. You don’t remember the day. You don’t notice the sun out behind your closed blinds. You don’t hear a multidimensional portal open in your small apartment living room. You don’t register the heavy footsteps that move through your apartment. Your eyes are closed, hands clutching your stomach, soft groans escaping your lips. You don’t see the large shadow moving through your room until the last second.

“Go away,” you say weakly, thinking someone has broken into your home.

Despite your pain, despite feeling drowsy and dizzy, your mind still has the time to find this funny. The one day you feel like absolute crap is the day someone decides to break into your apartment. And you’re Spider-Woman! How ironic, you think. Let them take whatever they want, you think, as long as they don’t hurt you.

However, you are surprised when you feel a warm and heavy hand pressed to your forehead.

“No fever,” the voice says stating it as a fact.

You continue to clutch your stomach, eyes closed. Unbeknownst to you as you lay in bed in and out of it, a man is in your apartment. His height towers over you in bed.

Miguel O’Hara is in your apartment… Checking on you. He stares down at you as you lay in bed. He sees you clutching your stomach and as he observes carefully, he sees no injury. There is no sight of blood either. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. You are clearly in pain but why? He turns to your nightstand, noticing the bottle of pills. He inspects it. Painkillers…

His eyebrows furrow further as he realizes what it could be. He walks to your bathroom to confirm. His suspicion is confirmed when he takes a look at your garbage can, spotting the plastic wraps of feminine products. His suspicion is further confirmed when he sees a pack of feminine products on the counter, ready for easy access.

“Coño,” he says quietly as he realizes his suspicion is true.

He walks out of your bathroom, looking at your shape in the bed. You are still clutching your stomach and soft groans escape from your lips ever so often. Miguel remembers the days he used to take care of his wife before everything collapsed. It was a long time since he had even thought about doing that for a woman, but his mind started remembering everything he did to ease his wife’s pain each month. He stood there, thinking before he walked out of your bedroom and into the one room that was the kitchen, the living room, and dining room all at once… New York apartments, Miguel thought, as he took in your apartment.

You were organized and clean, but that didn’t surprise Miguel. You did organize the lab each week with such ease despite Lyla peppering you with questions the entire time. Your apartment was warm with its colors. It gave the impression of someone happy and warm. Miguel noticed a bookshelf in the part of the apartment that plays the living room. It is filled with so many books that you have some stacked horizontally over the vertical ones. An avid reader, Miguel thinks before he heads to your kitchen.

It is clean for the most part except for a plate and a cup. Miguel searches through your kitchen, looking for something specific. He returns to your room, looking through your drawers looking for something else. A few minutes later, he returns to your bedroom. You lay still. Seems that you have passed out at last. With ease, Miguel slides some homemade socks with warm rice under your sweatshirt. He places one on your stomach and the other one on your back.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips, letting Miguel know his idea was somewhat successful despite it being homemade. He gives you one more look before heading out to your living room.

He doesn’t even know why he came. All he knows is that you didn’t show up to organize the lab like you did each week. You didn’t show up to the morning meeting either. Jessica hadn’t heard from you in hours and there was no activity from your gizmo.

A few hours later, you wake up from your slumber. You yawn and stretch your body gently. You lay in bed for a few seconds, realizing your pain is gone. Now you just feel the exhaustion that comes from having a period. You sit up in bed slowly, feeling something on your stomach. You look down. Your sweatshirt is tucked into your shorts on both sides. You untuck it and two socks filled with something slide out. You furrow your eyebrows as you lift them up to inspect closer. You bring them to your nose.

“Rice…” you say, recognizing the specific scent of rice. Your eyebrows furrow but you shrug. You don’t even remember getting up to make these, but you thank yourself for doing it despite being out of it. You get up from bed slowly and check the time. It’s already evening. You decide to take a shower to ease your muscles.

Your shower is hot. You fill the bathroom with fog, but it doesn’t matter. It makes you feel like a million bucks when you get into fresh clothes, all shower and fresh. You head out of your bedroom to get something to drink and that’s when you see it. The lamps in the living room are on, there is music playing from your record player. You look confused as you step out further.

“Mierda,” you hear an annoyed male voice, causing you to jump a little.

You turn to the voice, located in the kitchen and find…

“Miguel?” you say slowly but with confusion as you find him with his back to you.

He stands in front of one of your kitchen cabinets, holding it open. There’s a screwdriver in his hand. He turns around at your voice.

“Y/N… You’re awake,” he says turning fully around now.

You take him in. He’s in his suit as always. You’ve wondered many times if he ever just dresses in casual clothes since he’s always in his suit. He stands tall, of course, and you can’t help but think how he makes your already small kitchen look ten times smaller than it is with him standing there. You rub your eyes, making sure this isn’t just some hallucination.

“Um- you are here,” you say looking at him again.

Miguel nods, turning back around to the cabinet. You watch as he uses the screwdriver. You remember then. Your loose cabinet that has been a pain in the butt for months now. You look around the place. There were some dishes in your sink, or at least you remember there being some but now they’re gone. You notice the trash was taken out. Clean dishes were put away. And to your surprise, there’s food on the stove. There’s also a sweet scent lingering in the air that you cannot pinpoint right now.  

“You feel better?” Miguel asks, with his back still to you as he finishes fixing the cabinet.

“Yes. A lot better, actually…” you say as you cross your arms across your chest, finding this situation so strange.

Miguel turns around to face you now. He looks at you before looking down at the screwdriver in his hand. The screwdriver looks like a toy in his hand, you notice.

“Yeah, well…” Miguel starts, looking up at you again. “Jessica was worried about you. She said you didn’t report to the meeting we had this morning. She asked if you had gone to my lab to organize it and when I told her no, she grew worried something had happened to you since she also noticed no activity from your gizmo. She wanted to come herself and check on you, but the baby kept her busy today. She asked me to come in and check for her.”

I nod, realizing that makes perfect sense. Jessica has grown fond of you after all, you just never realized she was that fond of you.

“Well, thank you for checking in on me for her. I’ll be sure to thank her tomorrow,” you say looking around the kitchen again.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Miguel says, putting the screwdriver down on the counter. It looks normal sized again. You raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t like it when people thank for her… caring. If you want to thank her, just get her a coffee and tell her you appreciate her mentorship,” Miguel explains, resting his hands on his hips.

You nod slowly, maybe it was better to just thank her for everything instead of just this act. You sigh.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, scratching your neck softly. “Did she also tell you to fix my cabinet, or did that just bother you so much?”

Miguel’s face remains void of any expression. You wanted to ask about the homemade socks with rice since it became apparent to you that you weren’t responsible for them, but you kept your mouth shut.

“I was looking for – rice when I noticed your loose cabinet and other messed up things around here. You have a shitty landlord or something?” he asks, looking around.

You shrug. “Yeah, but the rent is good.”

“You’re not exactly strapped for cash, are you?”

You shake your head. It was true. You had some money. You could afford to move somewhere else where the landlords were better but…

“Why are you still here then?” Miguel asks.

His question is laced with interest, and you can’t help but think about how this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him since… meeting each other. And even then, that conversation was probably about three minutes long. You avert your gaze from him, looking at the wall nearest to you. Your eyes land on a single picture amongst many.

You lost your Peter three years ago, just like many of your spider colleagues. Losing him has been the hardest thing you have ever experienced. You have been punched till the air was knocked out of you, you have laid in ruble with buildings crushed over you, and you have been on the verge of death many times, but nothing has ever nor will ever compare to the pain and grief of losing Peter.

As you look at the picture of Peter and you, the one you took the first day you moved into this apartment, you think about all the memories in this apartment. It was all the two of you could afford back then but you two loved it. It was your place. It was the first time you were living together, and it didn’t matter much that it was a little rundown. You guys just wanted a place to live together. You two made it what it is now. A warm and happy place where you two could come home after a long day of work. You spent hours thinking of how to decorate it. Choosing the right and most affordable couch, choosing the wallpaper, choosing where the furniture went.

In the end, it had turned into a beautiful apartment. It was a haven for the two of you but what mattered the most was that you shared it with him, your Peter. You sigh, feeling overwhelmed by the loss again. You had moved on, of course. You had to. How else would you live otherwise? And you had promised Peter you would. Your mind is overwhelmed by the sudden memories as he laid in your arms. He had been crushed by ruble during an attack by a villain, his body was weak, his eyes glistened as they looked at you. You remember caressing his face and hair. He loved it when you did that. He always said it was the perfect way to soothe his nerves. The perfect way to get him to relax and nap after a stressful day.

Your own eyes were filled with tears as you saw it. The way his life was slowly leaving his body. What hurt a million times more, if it was even possible to hurt that much, was that you knew he knew. He knew that was it. There was no turning back. There was no miracle. There was no secret medicine or miracle serum that could make him get up and walk away from this unscathed. That was it.

You held him in your arms, rubble all around you. He looked at your eyes, his own hazy, as you caressed his face and hair. He gave you a gentle smile as he reassured you, he was okay.

“You will move on, right, baby?” he asked you, his voice indicating how little time there was left. “You have to… You must promise me you will. This city depends on you.”

You nodded your head and unable to hold them back any longer, your tears spilled down your face. You remember how some of your tears had landed on his pale yet still beautiful face.

“You must promise me, out loud, darling. Please,” he said, struggling more to get his words out.

“I promise. I promise I will try my best…” you said, and he had nodded. He looked satisfied with your response.

“You must continue – you are my hero. You always have been. And you are the love of my life, darling… I only wish we had more time. That I had more time to make you happier… To make you, my wife. Please – promise me you will be open to other loves,” he had gasped out.

You shook your head. That was impossible. How could you fall for someone else when Peter was the love of your life? Peter, noticing your reluctance, lifted his hand weakly to your face. Despite everything, he was still trying to comfort you. You felt something in you break further. He wiped your tears and gave you a weak yet comforting smile.

“Please promise me you will allow yourself to love again… If there is someone out there that makes you feel like that, please promise me you won’t shut them out. Please, love, promise me,” he said, looking at your eyes and cleaning your tears away.

His voice was weaker, and you noticed his chest was beginning to rise slower and slower. The time was running out…

“I promise I will. I will open my heart if someone comes along but I promise I will never stop loving you, Peter,” you had answered, trying to make him happy in his last minutes. He smiled at you, sweetly, and thanked you. You held him close to you, breathing in his scent. You tried to hold on to his warmth desperately. You clung to him, like you could defend him from Death herself. Like you could defy her this one time.

You cried your soul out as his heartbeat ceased to beat. You cried out as his body became limped in your arms. You cried as his chest stopped moving. You cried, cried, and cried as you held him close to you like your tears and grip could bring him back.

You cursed Death.

You often worried about hurting Peter if something happened to you. You never counted on Peter being the one who left too soon.

You inhale shakily. Your vision has become blurred with tears as you continue to stare at the picture on the wall. You turn around, remembering that Miguel is there. You wipe your tears discreetly. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to force it down. Otherwise, the moment you speak, your tears will flow. You clear your throat.

“It doesn’t really bother me – and besides, I spend a lot of time out,” you finally say, sounding somewhat normal now. Though the ache is there, deep in your chest. It’s like someone stabbed you in the heart with a wooden stick and left a small piece of it stuck. It always hurts, it always aches.

Miguel doesn’t reply as you turn back around, feeling more in control of yourself. However, you can see something in his eyes. Perhaps understanding? You guessed he probably knew to some extent what had happened to you. It was a canon event for all spider-people. To lose someone.

“Have you eaten anything?” Miguel asks suddenly, dropping the apartment conversation probably for your own sake.

You shake your head. It was hours since you had eaten something. Since yesterday, really.

“There’s some food here. Let me…” he says trailing off, turning around to get a plate from a cabinet. You can’t help but feel a little surprised at how fast he learned his way around the kitchen. Then again, it’s not that large you realize. You approach the kitchen island and take a seat on one of the two island chairs as Miguel turns around with a plate of pasta. Your eyebrows raise in surprise. It is one of your comfort foods. Miguel slides it over to you, gently. A fork is already on it, ready for you.

You slide the plate closer, the scent of it making your stomach growl instantly. You’re definitely hungry.

“Thank you,” you say before you dig in. You can’t help but smile with satisfaction. It is amazing. “This is really good.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything, just watches you. You eat some more, feeling a bit self-conscious as you feel his gaze on you, but you ignore it. Or try to.

“So, are you a really great cook or is pasta one of the few things you can cook?” you ask, slowing down on your eating, trying to fill in the silence.

Miguel shrugs. “My mother taught me how to cook when I was a teenager. It stuck.”

You nod, still eating. “Great skill to have, really… It helped me and –“ you pause, realizing you were about to mention Peter. You swallow. “It helped Peter and I when we were in college,” you finish, looking down at your plate.

A hint of a smile forms on your face as you remember Peter and you cooking for the week over the weekends. You guys lived separately but shared groceries to help each other out. It saved you guys a lot of time and money and brought the two of you closer.

“It is a great skill to have,” Miguel agrees quietly as you continue to eat, looking down at your plate.

You nod silently as you finish eating. You look up at Miguel, he’s looking down at the counter. His hands are flat against the counter, and he looks lost in his own thoughts. You can’t help but take this time to look at him. The sight of him in your kitchen is really something. You think about how great he is at these things like looking after a woman when they’re on their period or cooking. You want to facepalm yourself as you realize it’s obvious he would be good at these things. He did have a wife and daughter at one point, you remind yourself. You look down at your plate.

“Oh, I made this for you, too,” Miguel says at last, breaking the silence.

You look up curiously, wondering what else he had made. He turns around towards the stove and you watch carefully as he retrieves a mug from one of the cabinets. Again, you feel surprised seeing how he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for. It disappears from your view in front of him and you hear him pour something. He turns around again, holding one of your mugs. Whatever it is, is hot as you can see steam from the top. He sets the mug down on the counter and slides it over to you. Again, his movements are gentle. You lean forward and reach for it.

“Careful. It’s hot,” he warns, as you pull the mug towards you gently.

The scent fills your nostrils quickly and you recognize the sweet scent that met you earlier when you exited your bedroom. You look up at him.

“Canelita,” you say, grinning.

Miguel nods. “Growing up, my mom said it helped with cramps. It used to help my…” he trails off.

You nod. “Yeah, my grandma used to say that, too.” You pause as you inhale the sweetness of cinnamon. “Thank you…” you reply, with sincerity, still meeting his eyes.

Miguel only nods. You drink the warm liquid, enjoying the warmth that spreads down your throat, chest, and finally your stomach. As it settles in your stomach, you feel warm and cozy.

Miguel clears his throat then and looks down at his gizmo. “Well – I should get going. I have some things to catch up on,” he says turning his attention back to you.

You nod as you place the mug on the counter gently and get up. He walks out of the kitchen portion and heads to the middle of the room. He starts clicking on his gizmo, presumably starting a multidimensional portal. You walk towards him, leaving some distance, of course. He looks up at you as the portal appears in the middle of your apartment behind him.

You clear your throat. “Hey – I just wanted to say thank you… For everything. I know Jessica asked you to check up on me, but you did much more than that. I truly appreciate it,” you say, hoping that you’re fully expressing how grateful you are.

You can’t help but think about how you’d probably still be in bed right now. Miguel nods.

“It’s no problem…” Miguel replies, though he looks like he wants to say more. You watch, waiting but he just stares back with little emotion until he nods at you and turns around. He starts walking into the portal. The bright lights coming from the portal create shadows in your apartment. You watch wordlessly until he looks behind his shoulder. “Don’t forget – don’t mention it to Jessica. She can be weird about being thanked sometimes.”

You nod. “I won’t bring it up, no worries. Thank you again. Enjoy your night!” you call out and he just nods before he disappears into the portal. The portal disappears a few seconds after him, taking away its shadows with it.

You sigh as you stand there for a few more seconds before taking a seat again on the counter island. You drink more canelita, still cherishing the warm feeling. You look at the stove. Everything is in containers and there’s no sight of dirty pans, pots, or utensils.

“Cooked and washed the dishes…” you say to yourself before taking a sip again.

Your attention turns to the cabinet you found him fixing earlier. You get up and walk towards it. You open it with no issue. You think about all the little nicks this kitchen has. Like the drawer that doesn’t come out fully or the other cabinet door that makes a noise every time you open it. Curiosity gets the best of you because before you know it, you are pulling said drawer. Your lips part in surprise as the drawer fully slides out without issues. You check the other cabinet door. No sound.

You sigh as you look around, your eyes landing on the containers. One of them is full of leftover pasta and the other one contains the canelita. Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear your gizmo go off. You turn in the direction it came from, trying to remember where you left it last night. You are usually very careful with it but last night you barely made it through the door.

You find the gizmo on the console table in the living room section of your apartment. You realize there are a few messages from your colleagues like Hobie, Miles, Ben, and Jessica. You quickly reply to the first three who asked about your whereabouts before you move to Jessica’s. You realize she sent multiple messages all ranging from asking how your last mission went to why you weren’t answering to asking if you were okay. The last one makes you stop. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you read it.

“Okay… You haven’t replied to any of my messages. Do I need to send someone to check on you? You’ve been MIA all day. Let me know you’re okay!!”

You look up towards where the portal was opened just minutes ago. You shake your head and reply to Jessica, notifying her about what happened. You leave out Miguel though. You put away your gizmo in its usual spot and look around your apartment, thinking. The lamps in the living room section are still on, the record player has stopped playing, however.

“Hm.”

--------------------------------------------- Translation for italicized words: Coño - fuck (it varies by country) Mierda - Shit Canelita - a tea made out of cinnamon sticks

Next Part

A/N: Might do part two. If it matters, I listened to "Nonviolent Communication" from the ATSV album as inspiration. Such a lovely song for Miguel, I think.

I love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

[redr0sewrites]

HIYYAAA if it's not too much to ask I wanted to request if you could write Adam, Lucifer, Alastor, Vox and Val having an S/o with weather based powers, like their emotions can influence the weather. Thanks <3

YESSSSSS OFC! I LOVE THIS IDEA SM I LITERALLY SQUEALED WHEN I SAW IT IN MY INBOX HEHE

🥀Cw: none really, mostly fluff, a bit of omplied smut in vals part but what do u expect

Adam

adam is not the most self aware, so it takes him a while to realize that your emotions coinciding with the weather are not just some cosmic coincidence

it strikes him as odd that whenever the two of you argue, the weather in heaven is always particularly nasty, but he doesn't bring it up because he thinks its an idiotic theory

when you eventually explain your powers to him he has the biggest AHA moment ever

honestly adam loves your powers and finds them to be so interesting. he was the first man after all, he was one of the first few to navigate earth's tumultuous weather patterns. seeing you control the weather and watching how it reflects your emotions is genuinely intriguing to him, and adam brags about your powers to others ALL the time

seriously though, adam is always yapping about how he has the most powerful partner and how you're powers are so unique. he genuinely admires you so much and wants everyone else to see you the same way

your powers are useful when it comes to arguments because adam is not the most self aware person, and he tends to not realize when you're upset until you actually flip out

even when you're not upset with him, adam makes sure to do his best to calm you down when he notices the weather being particularly wild

if anyone ever gives you shit about your powers, know that adam will be the first in line to punch them in the face. he knows you can't control your emotions sometimes and never blames wild weather on you

i think adams the type to enjoy warmer weather, and he always cracks the biggest smile when the weather miraculously turns to his favorite type when you're on a date together

definitely loves beach days with you, and the fact that you can make it permanently sunny is so enticing for him

Lucifer

still pissed they took the yellow font away from me

honestly luci is such a sweetie when it comes to your powers. he probably picked up on them pretty quickly considering how powerful you are, but he didn't want to be nosy so he waited until you mentioned your powers to ask questions.

he definitely did have a lot of adorable questions, and was very intrigued about the fact that your emotions were the catalyst that controlled your powers.

after learning that piece of information, he starts paying attention to the weather more often. even before he's dating you, luci will call you to ask how your doing when ever he sees the weather going haywire. he's learned to prepare himself for any weather misfortunes that occur, and always comforts you when you're feeling down

lucifer is quite attentive even without your powers revealing your emotions, and he will often be able to calm you down before the weather even takes a turn for the worse

he would never want to weaponize your powers or use them in any way because he knows how closely linked they are to your emotions. howeeeeeeveeeerrrr, he does admire you when you stand up for yourself with your powers and will definitely cheer you on from the sidelines as you kick ass with the weather without even standing up

lucifers favorite weather is snow!!!! on your guys' first year anniversary, you made it snow inside your shared bedroom as a gift and luci nearly CRIES. he hasn't seen snow in years bc, yk, its hell, not very snowy weather, so the fact that you put in so much effort to make his favorite weather for him honestly makes him feel so appreciated

after that he might ask you to make it snow more often, and he loves cuddling up with you with hot cocoa to watch a cheesy movie while pretty smowflakes fall all around you both

Alastor

alastor would be intrigued by your powers to say the least. he's quick to figure out what they are, and would probably be drawn to you solely because you're so powerful. in fact he'd probably either try to use you for your power or challenge you and be petty, but over time he found himself growing a soft spot not only for your weather powers, but for you

i love al but he definitely saw u as an asset at first, in fact he was probably a bit intimidated and irritated by the spontaneity of your powers, but also very intrigued by your raw ability. he probably found himself attracted to your power more than anything at first, but once he got to know you, alastor began to see you as more than an asset and as a genuine friend, and that feeling continued to grow into something alastor was very unfamiliar with.

alastor probably picked up on your feelings towards him from your powers, and the fact that flowers would literally bloom whenever he was around. it definitely improved his confidence about his feelings and he'd probably pester you a bit into admitting your feelings for him. to your shock he reciprocates, and soon you become hells greatest power couple

alastor sees it as a weakness when someone wears their heart on their sleeve and is very emotional, so he will be very protective of you when your emotions are running rampant and the weather is reflecting that

he does NOT want people to know about your powers because he wouldn't want other sinners to try to hurt you, influence you, or use you to get to him

he'd definitely help you to master them and control them better, and would probably keep track of what each form of weather means and how it correlates to each of your emotions

honestly al loves your powers, and is so intuitive about when you're getting upset. i think he's the type to enjoy rainy weather, so he loves when you make it rain. while he rarely sleeps, once he trusts you enough some nights he'll ask you to make it rain at nightime because the soothing noise helps him sleep

Vox

vox understands that sometimes sinners aren't always happy about the powers and forms they receive in death- for goodness sake, he literally lost his head and has to deal with having a literal television as a head, so he understands it if you struggle with your powers

vox would encourage you to use your power, in fact he would probably love to see you electrocute your enemies or blow them away, vox is entranced by power and would be even more attracted to you if you were powerful

loves when you make it storm during alastors broadcasts so the radio is always staticy and cutting out, it always makes him giggle

it took vox a while to notice your powers, but once you fully explain them, he has LOTS of questions

hes a bit worried about your rain and his TV head at first, after all electronics and weather don't often mix, so he makes sure to waterproof himself and any technology you migh be around

(theres something so poetic about him falling in love with someone who holds the power to dismantle his entire technological empire and destroy his existence- ok i'll stop yapping)

vox doesn't go out very often, but when he does, his favorite weather is warm weather but with a nice cool breeze.

vox would use you for weather forecasts and people often wonder how he's always so accurate! little do they know about his sweet darling controlling the weather for him!

sometimes vox will text you in the morning with a goofy guess on what the weather will be today, something crazy like "the sky will be green" and lo and behold, when he opens his curtains, the sky is green and he is very, very surprised

Valentino

very enticed by your powers to say the least

your beautiful, smart, and powerful? sign him up!

would probably ask you to film in some of his pornos and would use your powers for kink-related uses, such as like a mild electrocution kink (lightning) or waterboarding (rain, etc) or something like that

this oblivious man would probably not notice your powers AT ALL until you explain them to him, he's honestly so clueless but he finds them interesting regardless!!!

valentino is not the most aware of other people's emotions and he can be oblivious sometimes, so the weather is a great gauge of your emotions

he immediately knows when your horny bc he's memorized the weather patterns when you giys have sex.... u hear sum?

he likes teasing you and then hearing thunder boom outside

val loves that his partner is powerful, and loves showing you off and showing off your powers. he's absolutely supporting your right and wrongs

valentino loves hot weather, it gives him an excuse to wear lowkey scandalous clothing so he loves when you make the weather very hot

he assumes you have more control over your powers than you actually do sometimes, and will be surprised when the weather starts acting up as your trying to stay calm

for example, val will tease you by sending you a dirty picture of himself or flashing you a glimpse of his lingerie under his coat and will snicker endlessly when the entire room starts to heat up as the weather suddenly grows uncomfortably hot

sometimes when he's pissed at one or both of the other vees, he'll hve you cause a storm in their offices/rooms just for shits and giggles

SORRY THIS REQ TOOK 500 YEARS ITS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES <\\3 i have never written for valentino before so im sorry his is so short😭 im trying my best yall BUTTTT ANYWAYS EXPECT SOME MORE WRITING STUFFS BC IM OFF SCHOOL FOR THIS WEEK

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Chapter 1: “The rain falls but they fell harder”

{A/N: the unofficial part 1 to this brainrot series of minee🫡}

OG Post Links (if you want to read more crumbs of this slowly building brainrot of mine lol) from oldest to latest <33

Preface:

It was right around fall when you got the news of been evicted out of your home- the reason being? Your roommate bailed and sold you out. Giving you only so much as a couple of hours to pack your things and leave as they had left too.

Luckily, your desperation was quenched when your co-worker happens to hear your ramblings during the night shift. With no choice but to accept, you accepted to take care of their place and move into the new city bustling in anxious steps. You could only live off your friend’s current supplies, so you needed to find a job fast.

"Turn left... turn left- WHERE?!" Almost feeling the urge to throw down the piece of paper your co-worker handed you earlier, you could only feel the pressure rise in your veins as heaved- trying an attempt to calm yourself-- seeing as how you got lost for the umpteenth time. The amount of turns you made in these wet streets and cuts through the alleyways made you quite hopeless in your situation.

A 'simple, turn right then left!' they said to you while handing the small folded note in your hands just in case. Besides having the direction written, it also had a weird doodle on the underside but paid no mind to it as you were more focused on the instructions of your co-worker, easily understanding it with no issue.

Yet it seems that you didn't as you stumble in front of a quaint...

"Bakery? Now how did I get here this time..."

The building in front of you was quite run down, but the words on the window were still quite visible despite the rain padding onto it . 'Homecooked goods,' it says in white cursive writing, which complemented the natural red bricked border. There were a couple plants that you took notice of wilting, making you frown quite a bit- knowing how, if they were given a bit of more loving, it would look quite beautiful and an even more attractive bakery.

Although you had to shake that thought away, deciding that it wasn't your objective coming into the bakery (yes, it was still equally important to you but finding your co-worker's place was more of an immediate concern.)

Knowing that you had lost all hope at this point, stumbling into so many dead ends that you decided to cut your losses, man up, and ask for directions around this place. For quite a well-known and popular town, this part of it was quite desolate.

Hence, when you started marching towards the bakery, you noticed how there were quite amount of similar cars out front. All black, sleek, fancy- wait... maybe this was a fancy bakery? Or not a bakery at all? What if you can't get any help or information from this place-?

"Johnny wasn't even- woah!"

At that moment, you happened to stop in front of the door and get hit right on the nose by the wood door and solar plexus punched by the quite fancy handle it was accompanied with.

"fUCKKKKKKKKK...." You swore silently, landing on your back and scattering all of your belongings as you clutched both your nose and stomach in (mostly shock) anguish with the person who gutted you mercilessly (accidentally) quickly asking if you were okay.

"Oh my- dearie, where are you hurt? I'm so sorry!"

You could feel the person talking, resting their hands on yours as it gently prodded yours away.

“Mighty careless of ya’, Garrick.” Someone jabs at the person you assumed had knocked you out.

“Ain’t a new sight to see LT?” The voices continues on while another replied with a grunt- which you are quick to piece together that there are three people now who had seen you land on your ass quite… gracefully.

“Oi,” another joins in, “what’s the hold up by the door? You’re bloody blockin’ the way.” A quite irritable one at that, you note.

“Sorry sir,” you hear the one besides you talk, “I accidentally hurt 'em when I opened the door.”

You hear another padding of footsteps as the one besides you shuffle away. You couldn’t see anything at the moment from how teary-eyed you were.

“Are you okay?” The newest voice grunts, right besides you, and you could smell the beer on his breath so you blanched away from him.

“I-i’m fine…” you managed to get out, albeit in quite a nasally tone as you pinched your nose to subside the pain.

“Doesn’t sound like it lassie,” the voice snickers and you turn to them with a closed-eye glare.

“Who are you to assume how much pain I’m in right now?!” You grumble in irritation, unable to control your emotions anymore for how shitty your day has been.

The straw that broke the camel’s back per se.

Lucky they were quick on the uptake.

“Can I see it?”

“Huh?”

You whipped your head to the other side, hearing the same voice that apologized to you.

“Can I check your nose?” He giggles, “Gotta know if we have to take you to the hospital or not.”

“No need to,” you insisted yet your hands fall to your side, letting the man to check it himself- which you had identified once your vision started clearing up from the tears.

"Shh, shh- no need for tears.." you felt a thumb rub at your cheeks gently, and you could barely make out the silhouette of the other man as he hushes you.

Bulky, scruffy beard, but was mostly covered the scarf around his neck, as well as the hat perched on top of his head- making it unable for you to see his entire visage.

"Seems nothing's broken," you hear the gentle man mumble to himself and you could feel yourself stiffen less.

"Thank fuck," you chuckled, "I don't have enough to get that fixed if it was."

"You wouldn't have to pay for it," he replies, eyes now staring at you with more... softness? If you had to make sense of it somehow.

"Why not?"

You stared at him as if you couldn't comprehend the intent behind his actions.

"'Cause he hurt you, lovie." The man, now clearer in your sight, explained- and his, 'oh his dark blue eyes' made you inherently stutter out a response.

"I-it's alright-- wasn't lookin' where I was going is all!" Your hands shake in front of you, widly shaking your head know as you show that you are unable to accept the generosity of the man. As much as you'd appreciate being treated to free healthcare- that seems too much for something that was a mistake (on your part mostly.)

"I insist," the kind gentleman insists, "I, too, was in deep conversation that I wasn't aware that somebody was on the other side of the door."

He grabs your hands, forcing them to calm down and for you to make eye contact with him- hoping that you would see the sincerity in them.

Yet all it did was make you more nervous, now seeing him in his entirety, from his clear cut jawline to how his eyes sparkled under the street light.

'Pretty.' is the first thought that comes into your head as you continue to be whisked away in the hues of the warm comforting--

"Let me help you up."

You yelp, feeling your arms being tugged (and your consciousness out of your thoughts) to a standing position, though from the sudden jerk you barely could catch yourself- sensing your self fall once more face first this time.

"Woah there!" You felt hands at your waist, steadying and grounding, as you feel the sudden rush of blood in and out of your head.

"Sorry," the kind man once again apologizes, "was that too fast?"

You sighed, unconsciously leaning your head against his chest, trying to calm the pounding in your head- "no, you're good."

"Dizzy?" You feel a warm hand on your forehead and you nodded again, thoughts now feeling a bit muddled from just about everything.

"think they caught a cold sir," another voice pipes in, the grumbly one from earlier.

"Seems like it," the mustache man replies, "got a place we can take you back to, lovie?"

"can't find it," your mumbles are barely audible from how muffled it was into the man's jacket and the patter of the rain on the sidewalk, yet they still caught on and looked at each other in confusion.

Odd and cryptic- was it because you knew them? Or you didn't want anyone knowing where you lived- especially with four strange big men at that.

Sighing, the bearded man signaled to the other side with a jerk of his head, "ask nonna and nonno if they can spare a room for the night."

"On it sir," the two responded with a quick nod, leaving as quickly as they had gone out.

"tell 'em I'll handle the lodging pay!" he follows up and they responded in affirmation again before he turns back to you, shivering up in his man's arms, looking quite defeated.

You looked like a kit left in the rain, and he felt that surge of sympathy of wanting to care for you- but he knows he can't. Not with a non-combatant and civilian, he thinks.

"Get 'em inside Garrick," he instructed and 'Garrick' responds with a soft, "yes sir" before mumbling to you and helping you move into the warm bakery.

The bearded man stayed outside, collecting your things until he saw paper jutting out of your bag, lines that were quite familiar. Checking if you were inside already, he could see Garrick bring you inside by the hand as you approached a fussy elderly couple, who quickly ushered you and Garrick up some stairs, deeper into the building.

Once he knew you were out of sight, he quickly grabs the paper and reads the words on it.

'Nothing of note,' he thinks then turns it around, eyes narrowing at the symbol draw at the underside.

"haven't seen this in a while..."

"Haven't seen what in a while sir?"

"Ghost," the bearded man regarded before passing the stuff he picked up into his arms, "we'll discuss it back at HQ."

Ghost nods and leaves to go back inside while another exited to join him.

"Did it come from 'em sir?" The shorter man asks, and the bearded man nods.

"Yes," he confirms, "but I do think its not from them specifically."

The other man hums, "sounds like we need to do some diggin' on 'em."

"we'll get more info from 'em once they wake." he grabs a smoke from his pocket before gesturing the other to light it for him. "Stay on post Soap."

"Aye sir," Soap salutes and watches him leave as he returns inside, doing as he was told.

You wake up with the gnarliest headache ever, that even if you did drink yourself blank out drunk- this would still take the cake of morning hangovers.

"Mornin' sleepyhead."

"the fuck?" You grumbled, throwing an arm over your eyes as you evade the sunlight by the window to spot a man by the doorway. He had quite a fancy fit on with the subtle floral pattern of a polo to the grey slacks with harnesses attached around his waist and thighs, gun holster by his hips but no gun in it.

"rough night?" he asks and you nod along, unsure of what happened to you- everything still quite a blur in your head, memories merging and dissipating the instant it comes popping up.

"our boss paid for your lodgin' here," he walks into the room and ends up at a chair by your bedside, "'compensation for his men' hurtin' ya last night, he says."

Hearing him say that made everything come into place, "you were the guys I bumped into at that bakery last night!"

You pointing at him in accusation made him chuckle and lean closer to you, yet that made you lean further away as you now realize the very trepid situation you were in.

"That's us alright," he hums, "are you still hurtin'?"

'oh,' you thought to youself, 'he was just checking if my nose was better.'

Embarrassment filled you at the insinuations that you made up in your head, as you assumed his intentions; hence, you had to look away from him- to save the little bit of dignity you had.

"no," you quickly snippet, "head's just heavy."

He clicks his tongue before standing and going to a desk, making you perk your eyebrows in confusion.

"well," you hear water being poured, "might be because you were burnin' high with a fuckin' fever in the rain."

He hands you the glass of cool water, "that's why."

You glare at him before chugging the water down, letting out a small burp while wiping the side of your mouth as you feel less parched than when you woke up.

Silence filled the room as you thought of how odd your situation was. No matter how accidental your meeting was- doing this much for a stranger was quite... well, strange is the best way to put it.

"Why're you guys concerned?" You finally managed to get out, despite the mess of thoughts you're having right now.

There was no malice behind your words, just simple curiosity and he could see it from how clear your eyes were of your intentions-- quite ironic from how much of a mess your brain was right now.

"boss felt responsible," you could hear the man chalk it up to that conclusion, "likes takin' care of people, that soft old chap."

You didn't quite catch the last part of his words as he mumbled it under his breath but you nodded anyways.

"That's quite kind of him," you softly spoke with your voice still hoarse, "can admit that it's hard to come by that kinda thing nowadays."

"I got lucky," you admitted, "please thank him for me."

The way you smiled made him pause for a second- it was genuine and so clear of its intent behind that it made his skin crawl and hair stand at the ends of his neck. He could feel his hand twitching to rub and his face and neck, so he let it- turning away from you as he reassured you that he would.

After a couple of more minutes, he tells you more details of your situation and you felt more grounded now, thanking him and his boss once again for looking out for you.

"No problem, sweets." he shoots you a grin- a quite silly and crooked one at that which made you return it in kind as you bid him farewell.

"Better get goin' huh..." you tell yourself as you picked yourself up from the bed and stretched, "still gotta ask and find out about where this place is..."

Yet as you look through your bag and all of its pockets, you noticed that the paper was missing, dumping the rest of out, you groan out- once more- in anguish at your situation.

"this is such a fucked up week!"

"how about we un-fuck it cara*?"

(A/N: *cara- Italian for 'beloved'/ 'dear')

And that wraps up the 1st chapter to this series!! Heads up, updates will be slow but feel free to hmu with ideas/ thoughts about the AU hehe (including my other ones too :>>)

[starshipdecay]

Toon Zelda redesigns! I've never been fond of the Toon Zelda design, and these girls deserve some individuality. Design notes and rambles below the cut :D

(time to turn the proper grammar off i aint capitalizing all this. warning: i am verbose)

first up, tmc zelda!

shes the one most like toon zelda, since i felt like the vibes fit the *most* (though not a lot). also, with her place on the timeline, i could justify a lot of bits, like the wings and the cape

the cape! obvs it comes from the toon zelda base design, but also it involves skyloftian fashion! i take the timeline as a challenge, and i once saw a take somewhere that the skyloftians all wear their family crests (most often birds lol) on their person. zelda here (and link too) do just that, wearing their family crests on little caplets. on the back is, of course the royal crest

i went very cutesy princess for her. tmc has such a *whimsical* vibe that i feel is very. muted? by the fact its stuck with the toon style. so i wanted to put in that vibe here. also her sprites make it look like her skirt is super poofy, so how could i not?

curly hair: i wanted something interesting, and most zeldas have straight hair. so! adds to the cuteness

i didnt draw it so well but she (and link) both have very sleepy expressions. zelda especially just has a sleepy expression in her sprite, its quite adorable.

shes not as decked out as other princesses, cuz i see tmc taking place before the royal family really starts to get *royal* as we see it. shes still of course got a tiara and some embroidery tho.

Tetra! her base design isnt all that changed from the original. her name is a fun hc of mine tho. i think "von Hyrule" sounds better as a surname than just "hyrule". shes not zelda, but shes still a descendant.

(WW) princess z (as i call her)

I went more oot zelda vibes for her, since she would be closer, temporally, to oot. i also went very warm, since ive never seen the flood as a *warm* endeavor.

shes got the shoulder danglies, as most zeldas have shoulder armor of some kind. the danglies instead of actual armor are supposed to kind of evoke a royal sea captain kind of vibe.

shes ghostly, with a fish-eyed stare. shes been dead and gone for a long time. shes also a bit taller and a few years older than tetra (as of ww). shes just some spectre the king saw in tetra, not at all a close match

tetra, being smaller than princess z, doesnt fit into the clothes. the dress is too big for her (as is in canon gd that skirt is WAY too long for her), the coat is baggy. the role of a princess *literally* does not fit her.

the ribbons! theyre my replacement for the wings, and they represent the wind in the game! since its represented by white lines, the ribbons are a perfect symbolic match. (also, a note, tetras hair is shorter and coarser than princess z's)

i mostly bullshitted the blue panel but the vague idea i gave it was 'a hope for the triforce to give good fortunes to the people' (pictured as dots, mostly behind her arms)

Pirate Queen Tetra

ph! about a year has passed, and tetra has really grown into her own! as well as literally grown!

shes still tetra, pirate and captain, but shes incorporated that royal heritage into her identity: quite literally! she made piecemeal of the original outfit (what was left of it anyway after the fight), and added bits and pieces to her new life.

she also takes full advantage of said heritage to call herself pirate queen. its great for branding. whos gonna say she CANT go by pirate queen?

the seagull feather is from Aryll. only crew member tetra wears a trinket from (who can say no to that ball of sunshine! certainly not tetra)

not many notes. yall can see whats there. (also she still wears her hair in a bun, its just in a low bun (you can almost see it) when she wears her hat)

st zelda!

first note is: shes not a princess! shes an heiress of the company tetra had made and left behind. hence her title of Lady zelda. ("new hyrule" rly just like-- the ending of ww was *literally* that hyrule is dead and thats okay. how did they miss that :sob emoji:) also calling her Lady Zelda fits with the train vibes

shes in a 1880s style bustle dress because 1) i am OBSESSED with bustle dresses. i love them. so much. 2) the more historical vibe works really well with trains! also a lot of the other outfits in the game have late victorian vibes, so shes certainly not out of place.

her hat (and gloves): any proper lady has a hat on when going about town, however, when she gets body snatched, she pulled out her hatpin to use (ineffectively) as a weapon (she IS tetras great-great-granddaughter), causing her to lose her hat *and* hairdo.

shes still got the hatpin in her ghost form, too. she uses it to threaten people for funsies

Ribbons! on the topic of hairdo, her ribbons! visually tying her to tetras design, the ribbons here instead take on the image of train tracks, with her pin (on the left side) evoking a train engine. the pin also makes her look rich and girly. when her hair comes undone, this makes the ribbons all loose, like how the train tracks disappear in game. (the hat also kinda connects her to tetra)

thanks for reading :D i hope you liked reading this as much as i liked typing it

[alexsnerdycorner]

You're My Girl

Title: You’re My Girl

Word Count: 2450

Warning: Smut, Swearing, reader wears a dress, PIV sex, Oral (F receiving), orgasm denial (female), multiple orgasms, no cuddling or aftercare., a bit of a praise kink,

Fandom: X-Men/Marvel/X-men 97

Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Gambit X Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Request: hi hello I am SO here to provide Remy smut requests. reader gets jealous of Bella Donna flirting with Remy so he has to remind her who his girl REALLY is (also she totally hears them)

Summary: Remy has eyes for Y/N but when the League of Assassins and Guild of Thieves have other plans for him, things don’t go well. Bella Donna has been flirting with Remy all day at their engagement “party” which makes Y/N jealous. When she starts giving him the cold shoulder, he takes her into his room and fucks her within earshot of his fiancé. Remy gets off on the fact that she can hear you two.

A/N: Ah! I love this idea! I will say I have yet to read all of the Gambit comics, but I have watched x-men TAS/97 and have read some of the comics with gambit and belladonna. I’m so stoked to be writing this!!! I squealed when I read this request. My dear ANON, if you have any more requests for any character, please reach out. I might even do a part two to this is you all like it.

Work:

When you were thirteen, you were banished from home after showing the mutant ability to create portals that teleported you and others anywhere you could think of. Jean-Luc LeBeau of the Thieves’ Guild took you in off the streets after witnessing you steal some food from a stand in New Orleans’ French Quarter. He introduced you to his adoptive son and mutant, Remy, a handsome fourteen-year-old. Jean-Luc and Remy taught you the ways of their world, turning you into a master thief.

You had always been attracted to Remy from the moment you met him. Remy was always there for you no matter what. He had a soft spot for you as he too was abandoned for being a mutant. The day you turned eighteen, Remy asked you out on a date. You, being in love with him already, said yes.

Things were going great until Bella Donna Bordeaux entered the scene. Bella Donna was the daughter of a high-ranking member of the Assassin’s Guild, the Thieves’ Guild sworn enemy. She also couldn’t resist Remy’s charm and good looks.

Behind your back, Jean-Luc and Bella Donna’s father arranged a peacemaking marriage between Remy and Bella Donna. When Jean-Luc announced it a few months after you turned twenty-one, you were heartbroken.

A few weeks later they held an engagement party for Remy and Bella Donna which you were forced to attend. This is where you were now. Sitting in the corner near where Remy stood in a suit and tie, you watched as Bella Donna came over and linked her arm with Remy’s. A huge smile was plastered on her face. Remy smirked up at her.

“Oh, Remy, mon amour, would you come meet my friend, she has been just dyin’ to meet you?” She said.

“Uh,” Remy paused for a moment as if unsure to go with her, “Sure. Why not, Cher.”

You rolled your eyes and watched as Bella Donna guided him over to a dark-haired woman almost as beautiful as she was. He extended a hand in greeting which she accepted and shook. You couldn’t hear their whole conversation, just bits and pieces as it was loud in the ballroom of the Thieves’ Guild compound. You were supposed to be socializing but just sat there in the corner by the bar and watched Remy.

Bella Donna was giggling at something Remy said and took her hand and pressed it to his chest in a flirtatious gesture. You heard her say the phrase “be a doll” and then the word “drink”.

He turned to her and said something you couldn’t hear and she replied to him. Remy started to walk to the back of the room towards you and the mini bar. He smiled at you as you sipped your drink.

“Hi Cher,” he greeted you.

“Remy” you said flatly.

Seeing the bartender was busy with someone else, he reached over the counter and poured himself a bourbon. He placed the bottle back over the counter, The bartender came over and asked how she could help.

“An expresso martini for miss Bella Donna, please,” he turned to the bartender and then back to you when she turned to make the martini.

“She looks like she’s having fun.” You nodded in Bella Donna’s direction. Her back was turned and she was having an animated conversation with her friend.

“Yeah she is.” He said wistfully and stared at you for a moment with an undeterminable look on his face for a moment. You shied away from his look and found yourself staring at the ground.

“Sir, the drink,” the bartender pushed out the glass to Remy.

“Yes, thank you, mon ami.” He grabbed the drink from the bar. You watched him as he walked back to Bella Donna and hand her the drink. She smiled at him in thanks.

She sipped the drink slowly and glanced up to see you staring. You overt your eyes for a moment as she set her drink down on the table in front of her. You looked back up as she whispered something in Remy’s ear and held out her hand to him. You can’t help but roll your eyes. He looked up at her and took her hand. He led her over to the dance floor.

A slower song started to play as she held onto his shoulder with one had and his hand with the other. He led her in a slow dance. Bella Donna looked back over to where you were sitting to find you staring at the two of them yet again. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Remy’s cheek, making your blood boil.

You shot out of your chair and over to the entryway where Jean-Luc stood.

“I’m not feeling that great, Jean-Luc,” you lied, “I have a migraine, is it okay if I lie down for a bit?”

Concerned, Jean-Luc places a hand on your shoulder, “Are you alright, darlin’?”

“I will be,” you said forcing a smile onto your face, “I would just like to lie down in my room for a bit.”

“Yes, go. Go. I will get you when food is being served.” He patted you on the back.

You take one last glance over to Remy and catch his eye. He raises his brow in question. You roll your eyes and portal to the next room over, your bedroom.

Once in your room you let out a sigh and kicked your shoes off. How could he do this to you? How could he just let her flirt with him all evening without even so much as a look at you to see if you were okay? How could he be –

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. You open and see Remy standing there sheepishly. You looked past his shoulder and could see Bella Donna waiting by the entrance to the ballroom.

“What,” you said coldly but let him in. He closed the door behind himself.

“Pa said you weren’t feelin’ good. I came to check on you.” He said lightly.

“Shouldn’t you be out there with your fiancé?” you asked harshly.

Remy sighed and then chuckled, “That’s what this is about, cher?”

You clench your jaw and look away from the man you loved, “Not like you even care.”

“Come on, dats not fair.” He reached out to touch your arm but you backed away.

“She’s been flirting with you all night at the party for your engagement and you don’t even have the balls to ask me how I’m doing,” you spat.

“Cher-” he starts.

“Don’t ‘cher’ me, Remy. We were dating for almost three years before she found a way to get you away from me. And then you pretend that we never were together. That we never even mattered.”

“Y/N,” he said, “We do matter.”

“That’s not how you’re acting. You never even objected to the marriage. You chose her over me.” Frustrated tears brimmed at your eyes.

“Y/N, dat’s not true. Not true at all. I begged Jean-Luc to let me have you. To find a ‘nother way to unite the guilds. He said I will either marry her or get banished without you. And I couldn’t stand the tought of loosin’ ya. It was Sophie’s choice, cher.” He found your eyes with his own and didn’t let them go. “Don’t ya tink for one second that I chose her over you.”

He moved to touch your arm again and you let him this time. You look up at him with watery eyes, “I miss you already”

“I’m right here, cher. Right here.” He pulled you into a hug.

“Don’t leave me Remy. Please.” You said into his chest, “Run away with me.”

“Dey will hunt us down, cher, you know dat.” He said into your hair.

“Let them,” you pulled back and looked at his face.

“Y/N,” he said sadly.

“Remy, I love you. I always have and I always will. Nothing will change that. I want you. No one else. You”

You could see something go off in Remy’s brain the moment you said you loved him. When you finished talking he leaned forward and kissed you hard on the lips. You kiss him back and wrap your arms around his body. He broke the kiss, “I want you too, mon amour.”

Remy shrugged off his suit jacket, placed it on your dresser, and kicked his shoes off. He then walked you back to the bed and you sat down on it. He knelt on either side of your legs and kissed you. His tongue parted your mouth and danced with yours. His fingers danced at the hem of your short dress. It was flowy so the skirt was around you instead of under you.

“You’re so beautiful in this dress cher,” he said between kisses, “but right now I want it off you and on the floor.”

He pulled up the dress up over your head and tossed it to the ground

“You’re my girl, my only girl,” He growled and loosened his tie before sliding it over his head.

He went back to kissing you. As his hand roamed your body you started to undo the buttons to his dress shirt. You pushed the shirt off his body and let it fall to the floor in a heap. He held you to him, stroking up and down your back and then around to your front, grazing your breasts before stopping at your shoulders. He gently pushed you back so that you were lying down and hovered over you.

“I’m gonna want you to scream my name loud enough so she can hear that you’re my girl. So they all can hear that you’re my girl.” He whispered into your ear. He trailed kisses down your neck and stomach and to the waistband of your panties. He replaced his mouth with his hands and slowly slid your panties off. He tossed them aside all while maintaining eye contact with you.

He scooched back so that his head was hovering over your midsection. He lowered his mouth to your core and started to lick at your clit. His hands holding onto your thighs. Your hands moved to his head, removing his hair from his pony tail, and running your fingers through it.

“Oh god your mouth feels so good,” you moaned. He licked long and slow circles down your clit. When he put more pressure on it, your hips bucked and you let out a moan. He grabbed your thighs harder and let out a soft giggle that vibrated against your throbbing bud.

He introduced a finger into your pussy and you arched your back off the bed. He inserted another finger and you groaned out his name.

“Cher, I’m gonna need you to be a bit louder for me. I know you can do that for Remy.” He began pumping his fingers in and out all while lapping at your clit. He introduced one last finger and began a harsh and fast come-hither motion on your g-spot.

“Oh Fuck, Remy!” You shouted.

“Now dats better, mon amour.”

Your breathing hitched and you felt a coil deep in your stomach start to unravel. Your walls started to spasm and contract around his fingers.

“I’m close, baby.” You cried out. But before you could climax he removed his fingers and mouth. You whined in protest.

“Ain’t no way I’m just gonna let you cum on my fingers. I want you to cum on my fucking cock so you remember that you’re my girl.” He pushed himself up off the bed and removed his belt in one fell swoop. He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down with his boxers revealing a long hard cock glistening with precum.

You sat up and reached for his cock. You opened your mouth but he stopped you with his words, “No cher, tonight’s all about you and your pleasure. Lay back and enjoy.”

He bent down to kiss you as you laid back down on the bed. He teased your wet pussy with his hard cock and then pushed in in one quick thrust.

“Oh, Remy! Yes!” you couldn’t contain your moans.

He began a slow and agonizing pace to let you get adjusted. You wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Ça c’est une bonne fille” he panted. That’s a good girl.

You clenched around his cock at his praise, “Oh, God. I love you Remy.”

“I’m gonna need ya’ to be a bit louder, Y/N,” He grunted, picking up the pace.

He soon began a merciless rhythm with frenzied thrusts and grunts. That familiar feeling of tension came back to your stomach and you hungrily kissed him.

“I’m close, Remy! Please,” You begged loudly.

Please what, cher?” He urged, “use ya’ voice.”

“Please let me come!” you pleaded. The coil tightened, threatening to push you over the edge.

“Go ahead, Y/N,” he howled, “come for me.”

The coil in your stomach shattered, flooding you with pure ecstasy. Your walls clenched around his cock and he swore loudly.

“Merde! Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” he moaned.

“Come for me baby,” You kissed his neck.

He let out a grunt and frantically shoved into you before allowing himself to release his seed into you. He pumped his cum into your pussy with his cock and slowly pulled out of you.

He grabbed some tissues from your nightstand and cleaned your pussy gently. He grabbed more and cleaned himself off.

“Woo, cher, Remy loves ya’ so much!” he exclaimed. He took in the sight of you completely undone on the bed from his doing and smiled, “Whaddya say we go back out there? I wanna see the look on ‘er face.”

You knew who exactly she was. It was Bella Donna. So you smirked and nodded your head. Remy helped you up and dressed you before dressing himself in his now wrinkled suit.

He gave you one last kiss before opening your door and leading you out. Jean-Luc was in the corner with Bella Donna and her father. The moment she saw the two of you she raced over as fast as she could while wearing high heels.

“You fucking man-stealing whore!” Bella Donna yelled at you. She raised a hand to slap you but before she could Remy caught her wrist and tutted in disapproval.

“Uh-uh Bella, you don’t touch her. She’s mine.” Remmy growled and released her hand. She stood flabbergasted as Remy turned to you, “Can I have this dance?” He held out a hand to you and without any hesitation, you took it and he led you onto the dance floor leaving a sputtering Bella Donna at the entrance.

[luimagines]

Could I have Twi giving Y/N a matching Wolf pelt? (I imagine he collected his fur to get it sneakily)

-🍃

Oh! I can work with this! :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Twilight suddenly wasn't super confident about this idea.

Was he weird? Was this weird? Because if it was then he was definitely weird.

It taken him a long time to get enough fur to make this even remotely comfortable and believable. Part of him still didn't want to believe that this entire coat had just... come off of him. He knew he shed a lot.

But never this much.

That being said, he had hoped that you wouldn't put the pieces together and call him out on it. He had to painstakingly pick up piece of piece of fur and stick them together into bundles before sewing them into a softened leather that was malleable enough to drape comfortably over your shoulders.

Twilight had taken months to get this to be even remotely proportional to his own pelt. He had noticed that you kept wanting to touch his own and had even stolen it on occasion.

His pelt serves him a very specific purpose, so while he would gladly be willing to share, it would be better off for the both of you if you had your own.

If this idea worked, anyway.

He approaches you quietly, when no one else is awake. He wasn't about to make a fool out of himself when there are others who would gladly hold it over his head of the rest of the known universe.

"Here." He drops it onto your lap unceremoniously. "It going to get clod later. You'll need it."

You gasp and lift it carefully. "Where did you get this?"

"I made it." Twilight feels his cheek warm up slightly. He prays that you blame the fire. "I can't give you my pelt all the time as much as I'd like to. I thought this would be a fairer compromise."

"I thought you hated hunting." You say softly and open the fur pelt to see it in full.

"It's not that I hate hunting." Twilight mutters. At least you're not assuming that Wolfie has anything to do with this. "I just don't see the need to over hunt when we have enough food....I got the fur from a hunt I joined the Champion on a while ago. He got the meat while I handled the rest of it."

You smile and finally look back to him. "I didn't even notice."

And he will thank his lucky starts every day for that.

He smirks. "It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you knew about it, now would it?"

You giggle and move the pelt to drape it over your shoulders. "No. I guess not."

Twilight reaches over and adjusts it a little bit. It's exactly as he envisioned it. "Perfect."

"Thank you, Link."

His heart skips a beat. "You're welcome."

[tinydefector]

Not really a request but more of a ramble. Ive always been torn betweenn Cybertronians not really having any material instincts and just essentially knowing how to function since creation. Kinda like Steven Universe. They can be young and differ in how much knowledge they hold but overall they have the bases of how to function without any caretaker needing to be around. But then I immediately start shaking at the thought of them having even stronger instincts that humans. Maybe closer to animals that have come to accept a human as their own. Just picturing a cybertronain seeing someone who's carrying and immediately is distressed on how little protection our clothes offer. Nows theirs a bot who keeps hissing at those who get to close other humans included. Their plating is ruffled and if they are a seeker their wings are spread in a threatening manner. May you have the patience of a Saint if said seeker has a large trine because now they all share the same feral need to protect. A con that stumbles upon a lost child and immediately claims them as their sparkling.( if you wanted to make it a bit gross I can imagine they do a forced adoption the same ways farmers do sometimes. Where they just kinds cover a stray baby with the fluids of a mother to create that connection. Kinda gross but I can see it being used to further claim a child) They consider the biological parents of the child nothing more than food and shelter for their now sparkling. They try a coo and speak to the child in their natural tongue. A seeker that chirps and clicks its glossa. A grounder that does low hums and songs like a whale. Sorry for the long ramble haha. I just think the ideas of cybertronains either having no idea what instincts are but also the ideas of them drowning in them. Or meeting humans just relights their feral mindsets in any and every way.

I happen to really love both ideas a lot. I enjoy the idea of Cybertronians not understanding family or parental rolls, Forged sparks start off in smaller frames and slowly gain more framing as they get older. Instead, it works more like a mentor and apprentice side of things. They teach you how to do your job, keep your head down like Terminus with Megatron. Their race doesn't have a name for the connection they have so in turn they call each other friend, but intruth it's more than that but they don't know how to explain it or express it, they dont raise the younger one but they are their for special events such as plating ceremonies. To Megatron Terminus is an elder, someone to be respected for his knowledge and teachings. And they both care for each other, when Terminus us gravelly injured Megatron does everything he can to try and help him because he feels like he owes it to terminus for everything the older bot as done for him. It's a mutual benefit of a bond that's isn't family but also is much closer than friendship.

But on the other hand, I look at Optimus and Codexa, and I love the idea that I found this little bitlet and instantly went mother mode. Practically scoops him up out of a hotspot and takes him home with her. She's very attentive and is the one who even names him. In all aspects, he is her son, and she does everything she can to try and raise a good mech, and she does a wonderful job. She teaches him to read, sings to him, and each plating ceremony, she keeps a piece of his old plating similar to humans and baby teeth. She celebrates when he gets his first job as a Liberian because she put so much effort into making sure he had a comfortable job, not wanting him to struggle like so many other mechs less fortunate.

And then there is my headcanon for birthed sparklings, which differs depending on what frame type they are. They experience different behaviours. Grounders are in different sub sections

- Tanks: Megatron, Tarn, Warpath, Blitzwing

- Mine frames: Megatron, Terminus,

- Hauliers : Optimus Prime, Sentinel Prime, Ironhide, Ratchet, Inferno, Kup,

- Emergency services: Prowl, Ratchet, Pharma, inferno

- Battle Chargers: Ironhide, Hound, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Trailbreaker, wheeljack, Tracks,

- Praxian carters: Prowl, Bluestreak, skids, Smokescreen,

- speeders: Rodimus, Drift, Jazz, mirage, redalert, blurr, Tracks,

- mini vehicle: Bumblebee, Tailgate, grapple,

- Vosian Fliers (later Seeker's): Starscream, skywarp, Thundercracker, sunstorm, Nacelle and so on all of the Jets.

- Helimech: Whirl,

- aerial Shuttle: Cosmos, Omega Supreme, Senator Shockwave.

- Combiners: stuntacons, combaticons, constructicons

- Cassettes/ mini bots: Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy, Rewind, Lazerbeak, buzzsaw

- non Traditional frames: Rung,

- Non shifters:

There's a lot more but these just just who I can think off off the top of my head.

____

Tankers and Mine frames don't get the luxury of families or raising sparklings, most of them are cold constructs, and don't get a chance to see life outside of mines or duties they have been put into. But if given the chance they are actually very protective of a sparkling, they will fight to the death for their bitlet even if it isn't their. Their behaviour is very similar to a bear mother with their protectiveness of a child, human or cybertronian.

Megatron's optics focus on the tiny form in his lovers arms. If it were any other situation, people would think he is glaring at the tiny baby being placed again in his Chassis. "They have no plating or outer frame, no protection." He states while looking to his lover. "They are a baby, Megs, human babies don't have anything like sparklings, they are very fragile," they explain with a smile as they watch their child try and grab Megatron's large digits. His optics soften as he watches their child as the baby babbles and giggles up at him. It makes a switch inside his possessor flick. Nothing would ever hurt this child. He would make sure of it. A deep rumble leaves his chassis as he lets them play with his large servos. A laugh leaves his lover as they watch him. "You look like a grizzly bear with a cub," they chuckle as they lean up to press a kiss to the side of his helm.

Hauliers tend to see a random sparkling and go. "You're mine now, I'm going to warp you up in bubble wrap and keep you in my cab so no one can hurt you" Hauliers tend to be very attentive carriers/ Sires to adopted or sparked bitlets. A lot of Hauliers tend to be very nomadic in the rust sea moving inpacks. They tend to behave more like migrating herds when on cybertron, but those who live in the cities tend to make a very homey and comfortable for sparklings. But also they are the ones who panic the most when their child puts something in their mouth they shouldn't have.

Optimus chuckles as he watches his bitlet roam around. Playing with sticks and mud. He sits not far off watching them as they play his optics soften as they giggle and let out little buzzes of excitement as they find a new rock. "They seem to be enjoying their first proper road trip," His lover calls out as they walk their way over to him. Leaning down to press a kiss to his Helm. "They are very fascinated by a lot of things on Earth," he rumbles his optics, meeting his partners. "Can you really blame them, I remember a certain bot being very fascinated with Terra's fauna when we first arrived here," they tease him. Another squeal of delight comes from their sparkling as they begin trying to chew on a rock. Optimus let's out a slight noise of panic as he quickly moves towards them. "No, no, Bitlets, you can't eat that," he states while trying to pry the rock from the little ones' servos. They squeak and squeal in protest before eventually letting go of the rock. Another laugh leaves his lover as they watch the two.

A lot of emergency vehicles tend to not be the best for being parents. Mainly due to their work and just not having the time for a bitlet. But they are very attentive to those who do have them, trying to calm them and make sure that they aren't hurt and can make it back to their parents. A lot of the time, they will put up the disgruntled act of the dad who said they didn't want a cat, but then ends up with a child curled up on his chest as he works.

Praxian carters tend to act very similar to seeker, but with children and sparklings its as if they can feel where they are but have a tendency of paranoid when they can't see their little ones. Their door wings will flicker and twitch when they hear their children and will respond back with soothing little clicks. A lot of the time, they will carry their sparklings on their back between their door wings.

Prowl wasn't impressed with Sunstreaker or Sideswipe. The two young mech burst out into fits of laughter watching him with a human baby strapped to his chest. His wings flutter in dispair as they begin taking photos to send to every mech they know. "Oh Primus Prowl, when did you get yourself a bitlet!" They ask while also fauning over the baby who giggles and reaches out with grabby hands. Prowl let's out a slight,all collection of angry clicks as his optics narrow in on the twins. "I am looking after them as their parent had an important meeting today," he snaps as he begins walking, trying to outpace the twins as they continue shooting questions at him. "But you have them strapped to your chassis like they are battle gear!" Sunstreaker laughs, which earns him a smack up the side of the helm from Prowl. "They are too small and too young to be left to their own devices, and the safest place for them is where I know they are," he grumbles before slamming the door to his office shut.

Speedster are one of the cybertronians who tend to forget their child exist sometimes, having no awareness until they are like something is missing. Oh Primus, where is my Bitty!. They are very live fast die hard kinda mechs and it translates over to their child. They are very much the one who will proudly show off their child who is currently eating something they shouldn't be. But they are also one of the most cuddly with their child. Curling up with them to their chassis as they purr loudly.

"RODIMUS PRIME, DRIFT DEADLOCK WHATBARE YOU LETTING MY BITLET EAT!" their voice boomed as their optics narrowed in on the two speedsters and sparkling. Drift turns around in an instant. "I tried to stop them, I swear, but Roddy dared them," he states. Rodimus looks sheepishly at his lover as their sparkling laughs and shouts. "Told you I could!" The little one shouts in excitement, not carrying about the disappointed look from their other parent. "You timeout, you Decontamination spray Now, and You... I'm not angry, but I'm disappointed, " they state, which makes Rodimus face drop. "Nooo. That's worse!" He shouts only to have his bitlet laugh at his whining.

Seekers are the most parent of all cybertronians to the point that some trines work as a family system. Each seeker is a carrier to one seekling, but also being the sire to another or having one seeker who is the sire to two. But then their is the others who aren't spark bonded to others in their Trine, because tries can consist of siblings, cousins, parents or complete strangers so each trine is different. but the family works to train and care for all of them together. They speak in a pigeoned vosian, which is a mix of chirps, thrills, and other little vocial noises. They are also the most social. With large gatherings for sparklings to meet and also bond with others so that they can eventually find their own trine.

For example, I love the idea of Thundercracker and skywarp being brothers, but starscream is trine bonded with them.

Acid storm, Nova storm being a bonded couple who ended up with Sunstorm who is much younger who try care for as their sparkling.

Dirge, Thrust and ramjet who are all random Seeker's who became friends at a young age and are a trine but aren't together at all, they be the boys who go out on the town and wake up in their flat with a hangover and a random mech/ Seeker in their berth.

Nacelle trills lightly as the little seekers curled up in blankets and pillows. Wings fluttering in delight as he watches the little mechs curl up again each other. His two lovers chuckle softly, watching how me preens and chirps and thrills at his two little bitlets. One of his lovers moves closer to him, resting their helm against his backstruts as his wings flutter again. "They are just sleeping sweetspark you can step away. They aren't going anywhere," they call out to him. "I know, they are just..." he starts before his other lover calls back. "Fresh, I know and very you, but they are here finally, you don't have to stand guard all the time," They tease before leading him into the room towards the fluffed up berth. "I think that's enough playing guard for the night"

____________

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[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWO ━━ Silence and Static

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: nothing really, paige is just kinda emo lol

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: sorry this is such a filler and it’s boring but it’s meant to serve as a basis for paige’s perspective after her and dani’s fall out

THE START of senior year has a bitter taste that Paige wasn’t prepared for. She’s envisioned this time in her life in so many different ways—dominating on the court, coasting through classes with Dani by her side, enjoying the final months before the world outside St. Louis Park opens up to them. But reality always has a way of shattering things, leaving Paige to pick up the pieces of what’s supposed to be the best year of her life.

The ache in Paige’s chest is a constant reminder of what she’s lost—or more accurately, what’s been torn away from her without any explanation. As she sits at the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, Paige’s fingers hover over the message icon, the urge to text Dani overwhelming. She doesn’t know what she’d say; she just wants to talk her. But the memory of her and Dani’s last conversation stops any true thought or idea of communicating with the brunette. She was so hostile, so cold, so different from Dani—who’s always been warm and kind and true. And now Paige stares at the last message she received from the girl and it hurts her eyes to even look at.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

i’m going to camp, won’t have my phone

sorry

It was sent in early June, and that was it. No further explanation, nothing to ease the anxiety that had gripped Paige the rest of the summer afterwards. And now, Dani and Paige are both back, and yet, the aforementioned is more distant than ever before. The silence between them has grown thick, suffocating, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts and the static of unanswered questions buzzing in her mind.

With a heavy sigh, Paige tosses her phone aside and forces herself to get up and get dressed. She goes through the motions: pulling on her favorite UConn hoodie, tying her shoes, grabbing her bag. But everything just feels off. The hoodie’s too heavy, her shoes too tight, and the backpack weighs down her shoulders more than it should. It’s as if the world has shifted slightly, leaving her out of sync with everything around her.

As Paige trudges down the stairs, she finds her dad and Drew in the kitchen, the two of them already busy with their morning routine. The smell of bacon and maple syrup fills the air, though it doesn’t bring its usual comfort to Paige.

“Senior year, P!” her dad, Bob, chirps, grinning sideways at his daughter as he packs Drew’s lunch box. “You excited?”

Paige forces a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Bob’s brows furrow slightly at her tone, sensing the lie beneath the surface, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he just hands Paige a piece of bacon, which she gladly accepts. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” he replies, clearly trying to be reassuring.

Paige nods, sending him a short smile before making her way over to Drew. He sits at the table, eating his pancakes. She ruffles his hair a little, and then kisses it lightly, saying, “Have a good first day, ‘kay? Better tell me all about it when you get home.”

Drew will be in first grade and he’s been bustling with excitement to start back up in school since it ended, having had a wonderful kindergarten year. Paige adores her little brother’s innocence, his love for learning. It clenches at her heartstrings a little bit, though—it feels like he’s growing too fast.

Drew sends his older sister a grin, saying with his mouth full, “I will, Paigey!”

She smiles back, this one reaching her eyes a bit more, before mumbling her goodbyes, Amaya sending a text telling Paige she’s here. No, Paige does not have her license yet—no, she doesn’t want to talk about it. She heads out the door, the morning air crisp. It does little to clear her mind. She smiles a little at her sophomore friend as she gets into the passenger seat, greeting her. Amaya grins back, though she’s clearly unhappy with the fact summer’s over.

When they arrive, the parking lot is already half-full, students milling about in groups, laughing and talking and probably complaining about the fact that school’s back in session. Paige isn’t offended when Amaya leaves her side to go to her friends in her own grade, bounding over to them happily. Besides, the blonde has already spotted Thaliah Sommers and KK Adams near the entrance, the pair waving at her with tired smiles.

“Hey, P,” KK greets. “Senior year, yeah?”

“Seems like it,” Paige replies, glancing at the building, lips pulled into a tight line. She doesn’t even bother trying to fake another smile, expression brittle at this point. Her friends don’t seem to care; they both look more than exhausted, their summer sleep schedules most likely not mingling well with the early arrival time.

“Can’t believe I have a first period,” Thaliah grumbles, wiping at her eyes. Truthfully, the girl looks as if she’s just rolled out of bed—sporting a sweatshirt and sweatpants, face bare. It seems as though senior year has made them all careless.

“Yeah, but at least you get out after fourth,” Paige reasons, shaking her head as she thinks of her own schedule. “I have all these random free periods between my classes, so I gotta stay here all day. I’ll prolly just end up bothering Coach during ‘em.”

“I’d hate that,” Thaliah agrees, scrunching her face up as the three of them begin to walk into the building, recognizing that class starts in a few short minutes.

Inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school surrounds Paige. Lockers slamming shut, freshman looking lost, teachers already reprimanding students. To her disappointment, Paige doesn’t feel a single ounce of excitement as she takes in her surroundings, instead only feeling an unfamiliar sheen of anxiety graze over her skin. She knows why. Lately, everything that’s wrong with Paige has led back to the same thing. Dani has always been her constant; though, now, it’s in a far different way than it was before. Dani seems to be the source of all of Paige’s problems, all of her recent negative feelings, the new emotions she’s been experiencing. The absolute lack of Danielle Callan has rocked Paige’s world more than most would believe possible.

And Paige has no idea whether it helps or not that her first class of the day is AP Lit—the only class she and Dani will have together the whole school year. When they were signing up for classes last spring, it was Dani’s idea to take it together. Dani had always planned to take it, but when she found out that none of their friends had that same idea, she needed someone. And that someone—always—was Paige. The blonde was hesitant, because, truthfully, she’s only ever heard bad things about the class. The teacher’s good—Paige knows that, she had her for English her freshman year—but, according to some of Paige’s older friends that have since graduated, the class is apparently a shit ton of reading and too difficult for her own good. Yet, because it was Dani, Paige had agreed. And the thought of spending that hour with Dani every single day was enough to make the thought of tackling Shakespeare and Faulkner bearable (especially knowing that Dani would be there to help her). But now, as Paige steps into the typical flamboyant English type of classroom, the reality of what happened over the summer hits her like a tidal wave.

Dani’s already there, sitting in the middle row, her light brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. She looks tired, shoulders slightly hunched and dark circles under her eyes, gazing vacantly at her desk. Paige’s heart twists a little at the sight. It’s not as if Paige hasn’t seen Dani at all since their fight—she has. They live right next door to each other, of course she has. But it still hurts all the same. To be completely cut off with little to no explanation by your best friend who you also happen to be hopelessly in love with is fucking painful.

Paige hesitates in the doorway, her feet rooted to the ground as her eyes stay on Dani. She wants nothing more than to go to her, to sit beside her like they always have, to pretend that everything is okay, even if it’s not. But something in Dani’s posture, in the way she keeps her eyes downcast, warns Paige to stay back and keep her distance.

“Oh, Paige!” Mrs. Donovan, the AP Lit teacher, calls out in excitement as her eyes land on her student. She grins brightly—a bit too brightly for the early hour, Paige can’t help but think—and gestures to a desk. The one that’s— “You’re right behind Danielle!”

Dani doesn’t look up at the sound of her name, doesn’t bother to acknowledge Paige’s presence at all. The blonde swallows hard, forcing herself to move. She slides into the seat Mrs. Donovan gestured to, the one right behind Dani, her heart pounding against her rib cage. From this close, Paige can see the tension in Dani’s shoulders, the way her fingers tap anxiously against the surface of the desk. Paige can only imagine how Dani’s feeling—but, still, she’s usually mostly accurate. Dani’s always been more introverted, and new schedules, new routines, and new people tend to make her anxious. Paige can tell she’s feeling that way right now. Because, despite everything, Dani is still Dani. And Paige will always know Dani. The blonde wants to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words only stick in her throat.

As the bell rings and Mrs. Donovan starts the class, handing out syllabi and talking about what to expect for the year, Paige’s mind strays far from the discussion. Instead, she finds herself staring at the back of Dani’s head, thoughts and memories circling through her head with unwarranted clarity.

JULY 2013

THEY’RE ELEVEN years old, and the summer sun blazes over them as Paige and Dani sit on the swings at the park near their houses. It’s a place they’ve been coming to for years, one of their constants. In fact, it’s actually where they first met.

The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the sweet aroma of the cherry popsicles the girls devoured earlier. Paige’s legs pump the air lazily, the tips of her shoes grazing the ground, while Dani swings a bit higher, her hair flying out behind her like a banner in the wind. The worn-out metal creaks with each swing, a familiar sound that blends into the background of their laughter and chatter.

“Race you to the top!” Dani suddenly shouts, voice filled with a reckless enthusiasm that usually belongs in Paige’s instead. Without waiting for a response, Dani leaps off the swing, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, making a beeline for the jungle gym.

Paige’s laugh bursts out of her before she can help it, and she scrambles to follow, heart pounding with the thrill of the chase. “No fair, you started first!” she calls, her words trailing behind her as she races after her best friend.

They reach the platform that hovers above the slide, the same spot where Dani broke her arm years before. Paige remembers it vividly—how Dani had cried, the way her elbow was bent all weird, and how Paige had held her hand the entire car ride to the hospital. The spot is a little scarred now, but it doesn’t stop them from sitting side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge as they survey their world from above.

From this vantage point, Paige can see so much more. The neighborhood spreads out before them like a patchwork quilt, each house a different square, each tree a different shade of green. The sun casts long shadows, making the world below them seem like a dream, distant and hazy. There’s a stillness in the air, a peaceful quiet that Paige—for once—isn’t the one who breaks.

“P?” Dani asks, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Paige hums in question, keeping her gaze out before her instead of on the girl next to her. There’s something in Dani’s voice that makes her brain short circuit a little, a seriousness that doesn’t belong in the carefree world around them. “Yeah?” Paige asks, trying to sound light, though a small knot of worry forms in her stomach.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Dani’s words hang in the air between them, heavy and laden with thought.

Paige turns to look over at her now, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Dani’s never been the type to dwell on what’s ahead—in fact, she says it scares her too much to even think about it. Instead, she usually submerges herself in now, living in the moment, seizing the day with both hands.

“What d’you mean?” Paige replies, voice soft, almost afraid to shatter whatever fragile thing Dani is holding onto.

Dani shrugs, her shoulders rising and falling with a casualness that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Like… what we’ll be like when we’re older,” Dani elaborates, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “We’re starting middle school now, and I always hear things about friends drifting apart. I just wonder if, when we’re older—like high school or something—if we’ll still be friends. Or if things will have changed.” Dani keeps her eyes out on the horizon, expression thoughtful as Paige gazes at her.

Paige feels an odd tension in her stomach at the thought of losing Dani, of the possibility of their friendship fading away. It’s too painful, too much that would be taken at once, to even consider. Dani is Paige’s constant, her anchor in a world that sometimes feels too big and too overwhelming for the eleven-year-old. The idea that they could ever grow apart feels like a betrayal of everything they’ve ever promised each other.

“We’ll always be friends,” she says with confidence. Because, in what world could they not be? “Nothing will ever be able to change that, ‘kay?”

Dani finally looks back at Paige now, her expression softening, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Slowly, the seriousness begins to seep out of her. “Promise?”

Paige doesn’t hesitate, reaching out to hook her pinky around Dani’s. It’s a childish gesture that fits the friendship between two young girls. But this time, it’s true—a vow that they’re both determined to keep.

“Promise,” Paige echoes, squeezing Dani’s pinky with her own.

As they sit there, side-by-side on the playground, the world feels small and manageable, just for a little while longer. And, here and now, Paige allows herself to believe that nothing with ever come between her and Dani—no matter what.

PAIGE BLINKS, the memory fading just as their promise did. It hurts all over to think about the fact that she was so sure that nothing would ever come between them, that their friendship was absolutely unbreakable. But now, here they are, strangers but not at all, bigger walls being built between them each and every day.

The weight of that lost connection presses down on Paige’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Her lungs flare in and out. She wants—needs—to do something, to find a way to bridge the gap between them. But she just doesn’t know how, the silence and static between them far too heavy. And the fear that she might never get the chance to again is almost enough to make Paige’s lungs go out completely.

Mrs. Donovan’s voice drones on in the background, but Paige can’t focus on the words. All she can see is the back of Dani’s head, the way her highlights illuminate her brown hair at certain angles, the way she shifts uncomfortable in her seat every now and then, probably feeling the weight of the blonde’s gaze tearing into her back. It’s almost as if an invisible barrier has been built between them, one that Paige can’t tear down no matter how hard she tries.

Finally, the bell rings, signaling the end of class. Paige watches as Dani gathers her things quickly, avoiding eye contact with the blonde as she hurries out of the room. Paige lingers there for a second, heart sinking slightly as she watches Dani slip out the door, her back rigid, her steps quick and purposeful.

Paige feels a mixture of relief, dread, and—oddly enough—excitement. Relief that first period is over, dread at the thought of facing Dani again. But, at the same time, excitement about seeing Dani again. Because if this is the only time Paige can see her, if AP Lit is truly all Paige will ever be able to get out of the brunette again, she’ll take it. As pathetic as it sounds, she’ll take as much—or as little, she supposes—of Dani as she can get.

THE FOOTBALL game is the first big event of the back to school season, and Paige stands there in the student section with Thaliah and Amaya. It’s not like Paige has any particular interest in football; of course, she’s always preferred basketball. But she’s been in need of a distraction, something big and exciting enough to pull her out of the unfamiliar melancholy that’s settled over her, and it seems like a high school football game under the lights is the perfect choice.

The student section is alive with energy, the kids screaming and chanting things that they probably shouldn’t be as the game kicks off. Paige does her best to lose herself in the excitement. She screams along with her friends, sweating slightly under the setting sun, grabbing a Hawaiian lei excitedly when KK offers her one. It’s beach theme tonight—Paige tried to fit into it, wearing sunglasses and some beach button up with a white crop top, the lei helping to add to it.

But as Paige’s eyes drift along the players, along the field, along the track—her eyes land on her and it’s almost as if any and all excitement that had settled inside of Paige is whisked away, just like that. Dani stands on the sidelines, between the line of football players and the cheerleaders, her camera clicking away. It’s not like this is a new thing—Dani did this last year, for yearbook, and Paige shouldn’t be surprised to see her doing it again this year.

The Callan girl has always been passionate about photography, and it’s one of the many things that Paige has learned to love about her through the years. Paige knows that Dani has a way of almost losing herself in the click of her camera, finding beauty in the smallest details, the most mundane moments captured and crafted into something beguiling. Dani used to show Paige all the photos she’d taken, scrolling through the storage on the camera. The two of them would huddle over the device, and Paige would help her best friend pick the best photos for whatever project she was working on in yearbook.

And then, of course, there’s the other memory card that Dani has—the one that Paige knows is labeled “P.” It’s simple—all of the scattered photos that Dani has taken of Paige over the years, all put together on one little storage device. Dani told Paige several times that it was her greatest piece of work, merely because Paige was the star of it. Yet, for a while, Dani didn’t let the blonde look into it, keeping the memory card hidden away. But, eventually, Paige’s curiosity got the better of her and she’d found the card and scrolled through the photos. There were some from when Dani first got into photography, when they were much younger, with chubbier cheeks and more crooked smiles. A good amount was the photos Dani got of Paige court-side, some for the yearbook, some just reserved for the two of them. And then there was the candid ones—Paige remembers scrolling through them, and the look in her own eyes that stared at Dani from behind the camera… God, she remembers thinking that it seems she was whipped from the very beginning.

Paige’s heart clenches at the thought of that memory card, and wishes she was a photographer so she could have one of Dani. She’s got a fair few—or, well, a lot—of photos of Dani on her phone, but it’s just not the same. Faintly, Paige wonders what Dani’s done with the “P” card. Maybe she threw it away, crushed it into tiny little pieces, tossing it into the trash like she did her and Paige’s friendship. Or maybe—maybe—she’s kept it. Paige hopes it’s the latter; she imagines Dani, late at night, thinking of Paige like Paige has been thinking of her, and then going through the photos of her, wishing she could take back everything she said.

Paige almost rolls her eyes at her own thoughts. She’s almost sure Dani threw it away.

And then, the blonde is pulled out of her own head by the sound of the crowd erupting into a series of cheers, the band beginning to play. She glances at the field, then at the scoreboard, realizing she’s just missed a touchdown. Thaliah and Amaya and all the students around Paige are jumping up and down, chanting for Hopkins. Paige joins in, trying to drown herself in it, doing her best to put her mind to rest and just have some fun—she’s always been so good at that; she wishes it wasn’t so hard to do recently.

When the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game, Hopkins pulls through with a narrow win. The crowd is excited for their first victory of the season, screaming those “start the buses” and “who’s your daddy” chants that Paige has always found ridiculously hilarious. Eventually, everyone begins to disperse, and Paige stands with Thaliah and Amaya, the three of them following the rush of students leaving the bleachers.

Amaya quickly tells Paige and Thaliah that she has to go to the bathroom, rushing towards the building. The other two girls stand around patiently, people watching their peers. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until Paige’s eyes once again find Dani’s frame. The brunette is packing up her camera gear, hauling a small duffel on her shoulder.

Thaliah follows the blonde’s gaze, nudging her gently. “You should go talk to her,” she says encouragingly, nodding towards Dani.

Paige shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.” It’s true; she remembers their last conversation—the cold look in Dani’s eye, the forced indifference, the river she rushed to drown Paige away.

“You’ve been miserable,” Thaliah says, point-blank. Paige’s eyes shift to her left, where the tanned girl stands beside her, brows furrowing in almost offense. “Don’t side-eye me like that—you know you’ve been miserable. And I think you’ve got nothing to lose these days when it comes to Dani, so you might as well just try.”

Paige doesn’t answer, eyes merely locking back onto her best friend. Without thinking, almost like her legs are moving of their own accord, the blonde starts walking towards Dani. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, doesn’t know if Dani will let even let a word slip out of her mouth. But Thaliah’s right: it’s worth a shot. Paige can’t leave without even trying.

As she approaches, she watches Dani glance up, eyes meeting Paige’s. It lasts for only the briefest of seconds before Dani plainly averts her gaze, eyes anywhere but on the blonde walking up to her. Paige feels her heart stutter against her rib cage, threatening to sink at the sight, but, nevertheless, she keeps going, only stopping when she’s a few feet away from the brunette.

“Dani,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft, almost pleading. It’s all she can say; she doesn’t know what else to say.

The basketball player watches as her best friend’s body goes rigid, her hands stilling on her camera bag. It takes a second, but eventually Dani looks up, meets Paige’s gaze, brown on blue. There’s an unnameable emotion swirling within the Callan girl’s irises, and Paige wants nothing more than to step closer, to look deeper in them, to decipher exactly what’s going on in her best friend’s head. But she doesn’t. Paige stays rooted in place. And, for one, stupid moment, she believes that Dani might actually say something, that maybe this could be the first step in their repair.

But it doesn’t last.

“Dani!” multiple voices echo the name from the pair’s right. Paige turns to see Beau Hudson, still clad in his football gear and eyeblack, grinning and waving at Dani—his girlfriend, the blonde thinks, sickly—beckoning her over. He seeps with the same overconfidence he’s had the twelve years that Paige has known him, and it makes her blood boil over slightly. By his side is Serena Corren—a cheerleader that also happens to be Beau’s best friend, who’s famously known for her sharp tongue and dismissive attitude—also grinning and waving. Serena and Beau stand with a group that’s more than excited and impatient for Dani to join them.

Paige’s stomach twists at the sight. It’s clear that her best friend has integrated herself into this new crowd, one that Paige has always found superficial and unkind.

“I have to go,” Dani mutters to Paige, not meeting the blonde’s eyes. She slings her bag over her shoulder before hurrying off to her new friends, leaving Paige standing there, aching all over.

Paige watches Dani go, feeling like the weight of the world is pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down. She wants to scream, to cry, to do something to make Dani see that they don’t have to be like this, that they can fix whatever has gone wrong. But she can’t. So, instead, she just stands there, staring, missing her best friend.

Yes, Paige misses her. God, she misses her so much that it fucking hurts—it hurts her insides, her outsides, her bones, her skin. It makes her feel all wrong. Every part of her aches with the absence of Dani Callan, the loss of everything they’ve had. She misses Dani’s smile, the gleam in her eyes when she’d look at Paige, the giggles she’d let out whenever the point guard made a stupid joke. She misses the way Dani used to make her feel—alive, whole, like she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, as long as Dani was by her side.

But now all of that’s just—gone. And that’s clear as day as Paige watches Beau Hudson wrap his arm around Dani before pressing a firm kiss to her mouth.

She’s going to be sick.

Paige feels a hand on her arm, a head resting on her shoulder. It grounds her a little. Thaliah mumbles, “It’s gonna be okay, P.”

Paige doesn’t have the heart to say it, but she knows that’s not true. There is nothing okay with the fact that Dani is slipping—or, she supposes, has already slipped—through her fingers. There is nothing okay with the loneliness and pain that comes with it.

Paige doesn’t really know if anything will ever be okay again.

[sharpth1ng]

how do you envision billy and stu’s bedrooms? cause every scene in my head it’s completely different to how it was in the last and i need to have the same thought whenever a scene comes across in one of their bedrooms

^^Alright so I have actually drawn Billy's room! this is the background of a piece that will be on my patreon once i feel like i have enough content to actually launch it. I wouldn't say this is exactly canon, I started working on it before I started writing Debaser and there's some stuff i would switch up, like some of the movie posters. There's also the non-canon Maureen VHS which they obv don't have because they didn't film that. But yeah this is a basic idea of what Billy's room looks like to me.

As best as I can tell this is the bedroom they shot as Stu's room.

^^As you can see it has a ridiculous number of doors, and we know the door to the attic is behind the camera because that's where Sidney goes during the chase. We also know the two doors on the left side lead into the hallway, again because of the chase scene. The door on the right I'm going to guess leads into a bathroom, because another door leading to the hallway or into another room would be sheer insanity. This one bedroom has four fucking doors and none of them seem to lead to a closet.

^^^From the movie we can see more of the right side of the room. There appears to be a fireplace mantel, likely bricked off and not functional. Stu is using it as a shelf, it looks like there's some tapes and maybe a trophy there. We can also see his TV and some posters on the wall- someone has made a post where they identified these posters but I can't find it rn (thank you tumblr's broken search function). If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please feel free to link it!

^^^There's also at least three things that look like they could be one of Billy's flannels in this room. We never see Stu wearing blue or plaid in the movie and imo from his costuming it doesn't seem like his style so this detail is pretty funny to me. Billy is just leaving his repetitive wardrobe all over Stu's room. Gee I wonder why.

So that's basically Stu's room in the movie. The way I see it in Debaser is a little bit different, but in many ways the same. First big difference: a maximum of three doors. One to the hall, one to the bathroom and one to the attic storage space. Two doors to the hallway just feels homophobic. Another difference is that I imagine his TV somewhere at the foot of the bed, just makes for a much more comfortable watching experience.

I also imagine him with a lot more on the walls.

^^^Chip Sutphin's (also a Matthew lillard character) room from Serial Mom is a good example with all the Fangoria posters and stuff. Imo Stu is definitely reading fangoria.

(Unrelated side note can I just say i can’t see Chip's girlfriend Birdie without seeing pre-transition Billy. The Blue plaid, the short brown hair, the horror obsession) ⬇️

Like, this is Chips girlfriend and best friend. This movie came out in 1994. I can't. ⬇️

Ok, side note adjourned, back to Stu's bedroom.

Overall I see it as a lot more packed and messy than Billy's. There's more on the walls and more on the floor. I also think he's got a big ass shelf of tapes and video games, and probably some leftover action figures from when he was a kid. I think he kept more of his childhood stuff like that than Billy did. He doesn't play with his action figures anymore obv, but he hasn't thrown them out.

So yeah, that's sort of an idea what their rooms look like in my mind! I do plan on drawing Stu's room at some point but these kinds of detailed room drawings take me so much time, I'm not sure exactly when that will happen.

Edit: Ps you can read what’s written in the notebook in Billys room, please do

[namism]

take me back | hange zoë

➳ categories: modern au, ex hange, female reader, angst

➳ word count: 11.7k

➳ summary: Hange Zoë realized that they didn't account for a lot of things before ending your relationship.

➳ notes: for everyone's reference, nifa, abel, and keiji are members of the fourth squad (hange's squad) and this fic was lowkey inspired by the lyrics of "kiss me better" by rihanna (don't ask lmfao it's so random). also, if you'd like, please read this on ao3 instead as i worked my butt off coding (yes, i coded instead of using screenshots) your DM's with hange. the version on tumblr is just a bunch of words, so the ao3 version is worth the read! you can find the link below :)

➳ cross-posted on ao3

ONE.

Five seconds before Hange ended your relationship, they noticed their hand clench tightly into a fist.

Three seconds later, they relaxed their hand before sucking in a deep breath and saying the three words you had always dreaded.

"Let's break up."

After three minutes of constant denial, you finally sucked up to your lover's—ex-lover's—decision and promptly stormed out of your apartment. It wasn't until the next morning did you come back to the shared space to pack your things and leave, not even daring to look at Hange's direction as you stowed away items into numerous moving boxes.

Hange remembers telling themselves to behave before you visited the apartment one last time. Knowing themselves, they would have said something stupid with the intention of taking back their words to get you back. Just before you strutted into the living room, Hange talked themselves through their crazy ideas in the mirror, eventually deciding to withdraw to the confines of their study in fear of interfering with your purposeful packing and making matters worse.

Hange got the signal from your tabby cat that you were out the door when it started making noise at the entryway. Its nonstop meowing was the go-signal for Hange to emerge from their study to find the apartment completely dulled down as it lacked the color that once filled the room.

It wasn't until near midnight that they decided to get something to eat after more than 24 hours of not having had a proper meal. With the intention of snacking a bit before hopping back on call with Levi and Erwin (their current emotional support duo who were surprisingly amazing at providing comfort), Hange walked over to the fridge to grab something to eat. When they opened the refrigerator, however, a green sticky note posted on the door caught their attention.

Adjusting their crooked glasses, Hange read the writing aloud.

"Cat food in drawer. Ask Nanaba for feeding schedule. Molecular kits to be sent this week. Nori hidden in pantry. Check all sockets. Check stove. Prepped food in fridge..."

It was at that moment Hange knew how badly they messed up. Written telegraphically, you had fit as many words as you could in the little sticky note to list all the essentials that only you would know how to do around the flat and the ones that Hange easily forgot to do. As another wave of sadness washed over them, Hange bitterly ransacked the fridge for an apple and a bottle of beer with decent alcohol content, then retreated to their study where Levi and Erwin chastised them over the screen for doing dumb and dumber things.

That essentially sums Hange's first 72 hours after breaking your heart into a million pieces. As a research scientist who's been confined at the lab for the past 15 years, those were by far the most uneventful 72 hours of their life. Hange found themselves weeping, drinking beer, ranting to Erwin and a less interested Levi, and sleeping for a maximum of two hours before doing it all over again in a never-ending cycle. It momentarily stopped when they had to work first thing the following Monday, but they relapsed quickly once they arrived home.

Hange couldn't remember the last time they drank that much beer. Their diet got worse as time passed, and thankfully Levi seemed to notice as he had come to their rescue the following evening by giving—drugging?—Hange with a sufficient dosage of melatonin in the black tea he offered. Much to Levi's surprise, Hange was down in 20 minutes without noticing a damn thing. They woke up the next morning, feeling lighter and well-rested.

Unbeknownst to them, Levi continued the routine with an appropriate concentration of melatonin until Hange was stable enough to be told the truth. They weren't bothered by the idea and were frankly more grateful than surprised. Over time, Erwin would swing by to share a cup (minus the dosage) only to leave the apartment with Levi after tucking Hange neatly in bed. Hange would wake up, feel energetically amazing despite the inevitable emptiness in their heart, and go to work.

TWO.

If you told Hange Zoë four years ago that there would come a time in which they would do something as dumb as breaking up with the only woman they were ever attracted to, you would have been called insane.

To be clear, Hange was never big on physical attraction. They were attracted to the weirdest, nerdiest, most mystifying things in the world, but attraction to humans? Certainly not. Hange Zoë, PhD (aged 27 and a certified organic chemist who had made at least a hundred drug-dealing jokes in the past eight years of studying), couldn't concern themselves with romance when it never crossed their mind to begin with. The only types of attraction they ever concerned themselves with were intermolecular forces (which they very much enjoyed learning in sixth grade chemistry) until they met you.

You were the perfect woman. Of that, they were certain. You began as friends in Hange's final year in university for their Bachelor's degree, but your friendship continued until Hange was halfway through their Master's. At that point, Hange felt as though your relationship was pretty solid given how often you spoke and saw each other outside campus. Before they knew it, they found themselves falling for you, their thoughts being muddled by images of your sweet face during the most random times of the day. Hange was wrapped around your finger and they couldn't get themselves to stop.

A month after that realization, Hange decided to ask you out in their own fashion—casually, but enthusiastic. You began dating some time after that and your relationship had been going strong ever since.

Now, after calling off the relationship with four years of dating and no rocky bumps on the road, Hange does, indeed, feel like an idiot. An imbecile. A dumbass, even. Blockhead. Nitwit. Stupid twit. A cretin. Hange could open the Cambridge Thesaurus and list out the synonyms for "idiot" because that's exactly what they are and there is no way of redeeming them from it.

"I just wished you would make the effort to spend time with me!" you exclaimed, eyebrows knitting in sorrow rather than anger, like Hange expected. "You can't even help me clean because you're so busy at your job, like— like I don't even exist sometimes to you."

Hange understands that it's their fault, but they cringe every time they recall the argument that led to the ultimatum. It started on the wrong foot. Looking back at it now, they suppose it was a chain of misunderstandings, one piling onto the other, until the tension finally snapped and dragged both of you into a full-blown argument.

"When the hell did I ever make you feel that way?!" they barked back, eyes wide and irises firm. They looked at you, waiting for an answer. "See?! You can't even answer me! Ridiculous!"

"I'm just— I'm just disappointed, okay?! Fuck, I don't know..." Head falling to your palms, you wiped your face in a stressed motion. "You never, and I mean this, you never—not once in our relationship—ever misunderstood me, so what's gotten into you? Aren't you're so clever, huh?! High IQ, high EQ?"

"Oh, please, in what world would I forget that my girlfriend exists?!" they yelled. You flinched at their tone. "I don't ghost you, I don't ignore you— I come home late, but damn, you don't know the guilt that eats me up every night because the only times I see you are when I go to bed and leave for work—"

"And who's at fault for your guilt but you?!" you retorted. "Hange, you"—you shoved a finger to their chest—"you're the one who can't take care of yourself because you're so invested in everything but your life at home! We haven't gone out in three months, like— like don't you think that's strange? Everyone is getting married, having kids, fuck, even my juniors are on their third night out of the week, yet you can't even take care of yourself unless I do it for you!"

The truth is, being obsessed with your job and anything that has to do with it is also detrimental to everyone who loves you. It never crossed Hange's mind because they haven't had this much on their plate since you started dating. There was always some time allotted for you at the end of the day, but things started to change lately.

On top of their regular job at the lab, Hange has four other things to do: tutor high schoolers for their admissions tests, teach as a part-time lab instructor at a private university, be a loving partner to their girlfriend, and be an equally loving parent to their adopted cat. Life hadn't always been like this, but they found themselves taking up more responsibilities over time until it was physically impossible to rest on most days. They couldn't even enjoy their weekends, for goodness' sake (because the high schoolers would always come knocking in their emails with more questions)—but if they were to take a break, they would return a day later to even more work.

Hange is simply not the type of person to live a peaceful life. Their peace is chaos; it doesn't help their mood when they aren't working on anything that stresses them out. Perhaps that's just the person they are. It should be okay to be this way, to always be in constant motion as long as the heart is followed and their happiness is fulfilled, but it isn't because they're risking so much of your relationship the more they work, work, and work.

You've always been supportive, but even your unconditional support can't realistically understand their position. Or that's what Hange thinks. They assume as such because your lifestyle is much freer than theirs. You have more time to yourself despite your regular 9-to-5 job. You don't have responsibilities outside of it and your personal life at home. Because of it, you decided to handle the work at the flat; Hange never had time for it anyway, much to their dismay. They had always wanted to help, but their schedule just never allowed it.

After a while, the chores automatically became your responsibility and never theirs. You had no problem with this. Hell, you even enjoyed it—you bonded with Hange's friend Levi over being clean freaks together as you always hated seeing mess. Although the duty of cleaning and keeping everything in check (including Hange and their health) soon became an irksome chore rather than something you enjoyed for the fun of it. The less Hange spent time with you, the more it annoyed you. You felt used, like some sort of maid. It was not a problem when you volunteered in a compassionate understanding of Hange's circumstances, but the least they could do was to make up for it by arriving home early or spending even a moment of intimacy.

But no, they had been so busy about other things that they couldn't provide the time. You hadn't gone out in almost three months to grab something to eat or go somewhere fun like you used to. You would take each other out to places you've never been to before regardless of how low-budget it was. You would have been happy with a simple late night trip to a fast food chain if it meant having your partner to yourself after months of no quality time, but such a trip just never came to be.

Witnessing Hange have a destructive breakdown whenever they came home exhausted was an even bigger problem. They never cried, but they were always so close to it. You would hear their frustration at one o'clock in the morning or through your heavy eyelids after being awoken by their wailing. When it got mentally tough, you would offer to stay up with them for comfort, but you were always sent back to bed or, worse, shut out from their study, where they isolated themselves.

They were awfully good at taking care of anything and anyone but themselves, so you felt the need to do it for them. And overall, the cause of your separation was a problem built on top of another. It was why you were so agitated when Hange could barely spend time with you, but your intentions came out wrong. You had explained all of this to them as you argued, yet they misunderstood your concerns as an insult to their work and commitment to your relationship.

Hange rolled their eyes as you cried. They were tired and had no time for this. They were running late for class and figured it would be cancelled at the last second because of your argument.

"Okay, let's get this over with—"

"You're mean. You're so mean, Hange." You slapped their hand away when they tried to touch you. Hange's face turned sour at your reaction. You were still crying.

"Please, can we just stop this?" they asked, voice sounding impatient. You glared at them with all your anger, but your gaze softened when Hange returned a look, weariness written across their face.

"I would never, ever, do this to you if I lived your life," you said softly. Hange remained silent. "I can do it all for you, so why can't you do it for me?"

You were right. Even with your freer schedule, you kept yourself busy with maintaining things at home that it technically felt like a second job. It didn't help your feelings when Hange was oblivious to the work and effort you did. When they cried to Erwin and Levi about this, the pair had opened their eyes to your side of the conflict and made Hange understand. Truly, they didn't account for a lot of things before ending your relationship: from the responsibility of feeding your cat and cleaning the house to understanding your partner's feelings.

Levi called Hange a moron for making you upset and a four-eyed loser for prioritizing "that nerd shit" over you. He had known Hange since high school and was aware of their insatiable obsession with science, even going as far as to believing that they would earn a Nobel Prize in Chemistry one day. Hence, when you started going out, Levi knew that they had fallen for you deeply, and anything that would break your bond could only be explained by supernatural phenomena or Hange's bewildering stupidity.

That said, Levi did the best he could to make Hange understand your viewpoint while Erwin patched their empty heart with anything but beer, apples, and Levi's special melatonin-infused black tea. Hange felt better having understood your feelings, so the next logical step was to talk it out with you for proper closure.

Except they couldn't.

You had already blocked Hange's number just days after the breakup, and your friends—unsurprisingly—weren't about to offer them any help.

THREE.

"Thanks for all of this, Nanaba."

It turns out that even with Hange's attempts at achieving the perfect work-life balance, they still can't master the duty of being a proper owner for the cat. Hange called Nanaba the day they saw your sticky note on the fridge, and since then, they have been keeping in touch with her for the cat's essentials. Hange has also been trying to manage their time better as a way of retribution that they can do better for your relationship, even though they no longer have any means of telling you (which is the harsh reality that they don't want to accept).

"Pfft, don't question it!" Nanaba pats Hange's shoulder as the cat rubs itself on her legs. "I would do anything for this little one! I've grown to like Ion so much, I want to keep him forever!"

"If only Miche wasn't allergic, I'm sure Ion would love to be your new owner," Hange jokes, mentioning Miche, one of Nanaba's roommates.

"Oh, you're just saying that. I'm sure you're a great owner. Sometimes you simply don't have the time to be perfect, and that's okay!"

Nanaba leaves a few moments later after giving Ion a much-needed head pat. Afterward, Hange and the cat decide it would be best to lounge at the living room couch and stare at the ceiling to absorb the quiet.

Ion struts over to the empty space by Hange's feet and lays his body flat. A few seconds later, he conforms his body into the oh-so-famous "catloaf" position, hiding his limbs and tail under his chunky body. Closing his eyes, Ion drifts off to sleep while a laying Hange watches the feline.

Ion, a male orange tabby Persian cat, is the devil reincarnate who happens to be your and Hange's practice child. Hange remembers you describing Ion to be the real-life twin of Garfield, the fictional cat who happens to be of the same breed. They recall questioning your choice at the adoption center upon hearing your many complaints of the feline's behavior, but you shook your head and snuggled the animal in your neck.

"This one's okay," you told them. The cat purred. "I need a little shit for a cat to entertain myself with whenever you aren't around. Also, it should be good training for a kid in the future."

Hange recalls bringing the cat home after a long day and trying their best to make friends with it. You chose the cat yourself, so it liked you more than it did Hange, but it didn't take long for it to start liking them.

"Hey, it likes me!" Hange cheered to themselves as the cat rested on their chest. You smiled. "I can't wait for it to like me better than you."

"You wish!" you retorted, seething with jealousy.

The cat was nameless for a few days as the both of you tried to come up with the perfect name, opting to call it "The Cat" for the meantime. You were against the common ones in favor of unique names, but you were also against certain names that could fool people into mistaking your cat for a human.

Hange kept suggesting the strangest names that were more often than not derived from scientific terms—you liked most of them, but they sounded too scientific for an orange cat who spends most days lazing around the flat. For lack of a better word, they sounded out of character.

That was only until Hange came home from a productive day at the lab, where they toured a bunch of interns and introduced them to their stations.

"Knock, knock," they began. You didn't reply. "You're supposed to say, 'Who's there?'"

"Is this another orange joke?" you asked. Hange shook their head.

"No! It's even better than that. Knock, knock."

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

"Who's there?"

"Cation."

"Cation who?"

"Can't ion-ly knock once? I'm positive you'll open up!"

You snickered.

"You and your silly jokes. Please don't tell me you were telling the interns knock-knock jokes at the lab all day."

"Ha-ha." Hange laughed slowly. "Wow, you totally figured it out!"

Suddenly, The Cat leaped onto Hange's shoulder, frightening them momentarily before being seized. The Cat struggled in Hange's arms as your partner hadn't learned the proper ways of holding a cat yet, but The Cat eventually nestled on their chest. A bright idea came to mind.

"Hange," you called out to them in excitement. They looked at you, intrigued. "What do you call a meowing ion?"

They thought about it silently.

Once they realized, they held up The Cat in the air, effectively surprising the feline.

"A cation!" they answered. They swayed The Cat around swiftly, confusing the poor animal who had no clue of what was to come. "You're a genius, (Y/N)! We should call this one Ion!"

It was a simple but nice name, one that you liked enough to give your partner the go-signal to name the cat as such. Ion seemed to like his name as he picked up on it quickly. It took him a week to get used to the one-syllable three-lettered name before it occurred to him that his two owners identified him with it.

At present, Hange watches Ion open his eyes and hop on the coffee table, sniffing the black tea they had prepared for themselves (this time, melatonin-free). Suddenly, he spots a particular item on the open shelf by the television and jumps over to inspect it, prompting Hange to move.

"No, Ion, get away from there."

Hange stands up from the couch and walks toward the cat. They heave it from the shelf with skilled hands, but it refuses to be picked up as it clings to a picture frame, its claws digging into the glass. Ion hugs the frame for dear life, but its grasp isn't enough to support the weight. One wrong move and it will fall.

"Ugh, put that down, you little cat! If that breaks, I swear to god!"

They manage to get the item out of its grasp when Ion is distracted. Hange decides to put the frame on their work desk in the study room, the one space in the entire apartment that the mischievous cat rarely enters, and believes it to be a fool-proof plan.

Despite all efforts, however, Ion leaps from Hange's hold and onto their work desk.

"Ion!" They grumble in frustration, seeing the cat sniff the picture frame and sit beside it. The photograph is special; it was a photo of you and Hange on your first anniversary that they never bothered to put down after the breakup because they've been clinging on to the little shimmer of hope that you would come back. It's one of the few traces they have left of you at home (and they're eternally grateful that you decided to leave it), so if the cat breaks it, it's over.

Another wave of sadness washes over them when Ion caresses the glass with his paw. Hange notices how he paws your face in the photograph, clearly missing your presence. They frown.

"I know, Ion. I miss her, too." They rub the cat's fur comfortingly. "I'm sorry for being stupid. If I could let you see her again, I would."

And they mean that. The cat misses you dearly and it breaks Hange's heart to imagine that it probably thinks you're dead. Hange isn't too deep into zoology to know if animals can understand human conflict, but they most likely don't. They suppose cat and human break ups are different.

Ion meows as his owner picks him up with a tight grip. He tries to reach out to the frame once more with his stubby limbs as Hange pulls him away from the desk, but he unleashes his claws in protest and grips Hange's shoulder in a devious attack.

"Ow— what the fuck!" Hange hisses as Ion's claws dig deep into their shoulder. They let go of Ion as he leaps back on top of the table, sitting beside the picture frame once more.

They palm their scratched shoulder, glaring at the cat.

"Alright, you want to stay in here like a sulking loser?! Fine by me!"

Hange leaves the study with the door open and the light fixture turned on just so they wouldn't forget to retrieve Ion later. As they walk to the bathroom to wash the wound and rub it with an ointment, they put on some music with the iPad Mini they rarely use.

When the device connects to their home network, a notification instantly appears on screen.

(Y/N) (L/N) recently added to their story.

Hange stands in front of the mirror, dumbfounded.

Not knowing what to do, they simply stare at the notification with raised eyebrows, feeling their chest get heavier by the second. They have an internal argument with their imaginary shoulder devil, who tempts them into clicking the notification. Nothing can go wrong, right? Well, it's just social media—yet their angelic side knocks into their conscience in hopes of waking them up from the temptation, serving as some sort of warning for any consequence that is to come the moment they snoop around your social media. Hange doesn't do anything long enough for the notification banner to disappear, effectively sealing their decision to ignore it—

Hange clicks on the notification at the last second.

The Instagram app opens, then it loads the first photo you added to your story an hour ago.

Great job, Hange. You're responsible for your actions and for your broken heart! They think.

Once your Instagram story loads, Hange recognizes you in a group photo with your friends from university. Dressed in comfortable clothing and makeup done so beautifully, Hange thinks you look stunning as usual. You look no different from the last time they saw you, but they're not quite sure how you're doing behind the sweet smile you have on your face.

Or perhaps they're just projecting their own sadness and can't fathom the idea of you moving on from them. It's a selfish thought coming from the person who initiated the break up, but they yearn so hard for you to still be in love with them against all odds.

Who's a sulking loser now? They think again.

They tap through your story, thoughts continuing to barrage their mind until the last one catches them off guard.

It seems pretty normal: a photo of the sunset with a song from an artist you like playing in the background, not until they notice the little green icon at the topmost part of the screen. They're still in your Close Friends.

They squint their eyes and read the small text at the bottom of the image.

let me see ion one more time pls. i miss everything

"What the hell?"

Breathing in deeply, Hange steps away from the iPad in shock. Dramatic, they know—and there is absolutely no way that this is real since they have been blocked from your contacts just a few days after the breakup, but knowing you, this is something that you would totally do. And it's not like you voiced out to see them—you wanted to see Ion, the cat. Hange should be jealous that the cat gets your attention in this scenario, but knowing you (yet again), you would never be the one to articulate that kind of desire. Regardless, Hange knows that you still want them. Or they pray that you do.

You must. You have to.

Hange is just surprised that they chanced upon your story since they haven't opened their Instagram account in months, and truth be told, they only had one for the sake of having a social media presence that isn't Facebook. Suddenly, the pain in their shoulder fades away, and their only goal is to find some way to respond without sounding like a selfish asshole.

They should post a story with just you in their Close Friends, something that would totally shock you like how you shocked them. Hange believes it's an amazing plan until they try to execute it. Well, they had never posted anything on their story before. Everything that they ever posted on the platform went directly to their feed which over time became a messy jumbled dump of random photos. They don't have many followers, either. You had once called them a "shitposter" with a "garbage dump of a feed", which tells Hange enough that they probably shouldn't proceed with the plan.

So, they settle for your private messages with a direct reply to your story.

Upon opening your direct messages, however, Hange's heart sinks. You didn't block them on Instagram, much less take down the customized settings in your private chat, so everything stayed the same as before as if nothing ever happened: your nickname is still "My Darling Dearest", while theirs is a matching "my beloved". Your chat theme is still the "Love" theme on Instagram with your back-and-forth messages colored pink.

Hange thinks of what to say, what to type. This will be your first conversation since the breakup, after all. They shouldn't mess it up by saying something stupid.

An idea comes to mind. Hange hurriedly exits the bathroom, iPad Mini in hand, and enters their study. They find Ion in the same position as before, laying beside your picture frame as he paws on your photograph. Hange tucks the iPad in between their armpit and seizes Ion from behind.

"A-ha! Gotcha!" Rejoicing, Hange carries the cat out of the study as he instantly goes feral in their hold. They restrain his paws as much as they can while they talk Ion into doing them a favor. "Please, Ion, don't you want to see your mother again? (Y/N)?"

At the sound of your name, the cat calms down and Hange sighs.

Man, this cat has issues.

With the behaved cat, Hange sits on the couch and places Ion on their lap, belly facing them. The cat looks at them in confusion, watching his owner pull out the iPad and excitedly open the Camera app to take a photo of his vulnerable form.

"Mrao?" the cat asks.

"Just stay still," they order.

Ion makes a face of disapproval and shuts his eyes tightly, stretching his limbs out as he tries to contain his annoyance. He wants to see you again, even if it means just staring at your photograph and burning your image in his head, as opposed to being captured and taken photos of like a show animal. He loves Hange for feeding him and taking care of him, but why would they separate him from you? He misses you so much.

"Looks good enough." Ion hears Hange mumble to themselves. He meows another time in a questioning tone to ask if the job is finally done so that he can go back to admiring your photograph. When Hange puts him down on the ground, he bolts for the study.

Meanwhile, Hange stares at the messages they had sent you on Instagram.

my beloved: Heyy... Ion misses you too... my beloved: Attached Image my beloved: hahahahhaaafh :') Seen

They sound like a nervous wreck, akin to a middle schooler who's confessing to someone for the very first time in fear of rejection. Hange doesn't expect you to reply right away, so they stow away the iPad on the coffee table while they scream into one of the couch pillows to relieve their stress. Suddenly, the device vibrates.

Hange is looking at the notification in no time.

My Darling Dearest: thank you

Their heart leaps out of their chest. You replied. You actually replied. It's a simple thank you that probably doesn't mean much to anyone else, but it means the entire world to them given the current circumstances. Hange breaks into a grin as they stand up from the couch and pace around the living room, rereading your two-word reply over and over again.

my beloved: Of course of course, don't mention it!!! my beloved: Sorry for the exclamation points, I'm not shouting :( Seen

Their celebration ends quickly, however, as Hange curses to themselves upon typing a stupid response with the apology at the end. They take a deep breath. Okay, Hange. Don't mess this up now!

They watch as the read receipt appears at the bottom of their message. A small bubble with three dots appears then disappears every so often. You continue to type for the next 30 seconds and Hange grows anxious.

When you don't reply, their shoulders fall.

"Just my luck," they mutter. Hange is left at read even after six minutes of waiting. At this point, they can't identify the best course of action after getting ignored. They guess that it's better than being left at delivered, and that they should be grateful that you replied in the first place, so they exit the app and admit defeat.

But they come back running a minute later after having realized that they should initiate. Of course you wouldn't want to talk to Hange after they broke your heart—even if you still love them dearly, it's only appropriate if you refrain from any kind of interaction... yet you had replied to their message when you could have just totally ghosted them, removed your cute chat decorations, and blocked them on every social media platform there is to exist.

Hange isn't giving up on your relationship. They can't give up on you.

my beloved: To tell you the truth, I saw your story earlier and I figured that you might want to see Ion again my beloved: I understand if you don't want to see me, but I can drop him off my beloved: He misses mom a lot! D: Seen

Hange observes just how fast you read their message and smiles to themselves when they see you typing. They're glad they pulled the "our-son-misses-you" card as it seemed to be enough to get your attention. Hange looks at their study, remembering the cat who's snuggled up with your photo. Ion would be more than delightful to hear about this.

My Darling Dearest: tomorrow 2 PM. my beloved: Oh okay!! my beloved: May I ask where? 😅 My Darling Dearest: i'm staying at nifa's my beloved: We will be there! Seen

Hange giggles, kicking their feet. They throw the iPad on the couch and run to the study. Picking up Ion from the work desk, they hoist the cat in the air as they celebrate. "We did it! We're seeing (Y/N) tomorrow!"

"Miaow!"

"I know! Okay, I'm giving you a bath tonight." Hange puts him down and lets the cat roam free. Suddenly, they remember that they have work tomorrow. It's currently Sunday afternoon and their workload is calling their name. "Fuck."

Running their fingers through their hair, they shake their head. It shouldn't matter. They have more important things to attend to.

FOUR.

"Look, I'm sorry for being an asshole. I reflected on everything I said the past month and I understand that I was wrong. Please, from the bottom of my heart, can you give me a second chance?"

"Wrrrao!"

"Ugh, get up. We're both bad at this."

Ion meows angrily a second time when Hange picks him up. It's his call of hunger. He demands food and water because he's Hange's (and your) precious cat who can do no wrong, like the king of the flat, the king of everything. Hange situates Ion on their shoulder and lets him balance there as they prepare the cat food that Nanaba had sent yesterday. He smugly watches Hange plate his meal and promptly hops off their shoulder once they put his pet bowl on the ground. While Ion digs into his breakfast, Hange disappears into the bedroom and locks themselves inside to be left alone with their thoughts.

Ever since you consented to seeing Ion—and Hange—yesterday afternoon, they decided to call in sick at work. Once that problem was out of the way (which, to their surprise, was a fairly easy process), they decided to craft an apology to rehearse if they ever find the time to insert a small discussion in your "casual" meeting.

"That's great to hear, Hange!" Erwin told them last night over FaceTime. Hange had to break the news to someone other than the cat, and since Erwin (and Levi) had been there for them since day one, they decided to tell him immediately. They were hoping to get his opinion on the matter, maybe some word of advice and a 101 on "how-to-approach-your-ex-girlfriend". But Erwin was empty-handed, equally clueless as he hadn't been in their shoes before; he never tried to get back together with an ex. He was hopeful, though. "Sorry about that. In any case, I believe you can handle it on your own. No one knows her better than you."

But Hange isn't handling this as well as they'd hoped. Usually quick with words, they thought finding the right ones for their apology would come naturally, but it hasn't. Every attempt feels clumsy, every phrase falls short. The weight of the moment presses on them, and the uncertainty of how this meeting will unfold only makes it worse. It could go right, or it could go wrong—but Hange can't shake the sinking feeling that the odds of success have never felt slimmer.

Hange wonders what's running through your mind. Did you sleep well last night after your conversation? Are your friends warning you it's a bad idea to meet up with your ex? Or maybe you're considering canceling altogether? They figure that's unlikely, though—after all, you've missed Ion like crazy. Your bond with Ion (Hange chuckles softly at their own chemistry joke) is far too strong for you to say no to seeing him. Still, they wouldn't blame you if you canceled. After all, who'd want to face the person who shattered their heart?

Regardless, Hange has been rehearsing countless scenarios, crafting a plan for every possible outcome if things don't go their way. They've already revised their apology at least four times, hoping one version will hit the right note when they see you this afternoon. In one scenario, they picture knocking on your old friend and roommate Nifa's door, leaving Ion on the doorstep, and waiting out of sight until you step outside to find him sitting there, alone on the mat. Then, they'd emerge—calm, composed—and launch into their carefully prepared speech. In another, they imagine standing at the doorway, holding Ion and a bouquet of flowers, their nerves barely hidden. They'd offer you both—flowers and cat alike—with a heartfelt apology for their foolish mistakes, hoping it's enough to bridge the gap they created.

As they sit in silence, though, Hange thinks they're going overboard. You would probably appreciate it if they brought you something other than the cat, but spoiling you with flowers and some other romantic shit when you aren't together anymore just sounds... pathetic. Pitiful. It feels like they're begging for your love through material possessions when they shouldn't. They hurt you with their words, their gestures, so they might as well patch it up by promising to do better and showing it all through their actions.

So Hange arrives with just the cat. No flowers, no chocolates, none of that romantic stuff. Just them, Ion, their keys, and wallet.

Breathing in, Hange rings the doorbell. They arrived pretty early—it's still 1:46 PM, but your and Nifa's old apartment used to be on the other side of town so they had to leave the flat early. As they wait to be let in, they stroke Ion's orange fur and pray to a transcendent being that everything will be okay.

FIVE.

A month away from Hange feels longer than it should have been. A month is a year in your book, and on some days, it feels even longer.

It's the aftermath of a breakup—an unwelcome shadow that lingers over your life. Even with a regular job to keep you busy, Hange's words haunt you, often pushing you to the brink of a breakdown. You can't seem to escape it. The moment you're alone with nothing to distract you, the discomfort creeps in, settling like a heavy knot in your stomach. Whether it lasts three minutes or five, it always ends the same, your tears threatening to spill as the weight becomes too much to bear.

To your luck, your old roommate Nifa had provided you amazing company while you tried to mend your broken heart. You met her in university when you moved out from your hometown and lived within the residence halls for the duration of your undergraduate program. When your friend group expanded, the both of you moved out of the dorms with Abel and Keiji into a four-bedroom apartment near campus, which became your home until you decided to move in with Hange three years ago. Hence, when you stormed out of your apartment after the breakup with nothing but your phone and wallet, Nifa was the first person you called.

She welcomed you to your old home with open arms, followed by Abel and Keiji who came running back home to tackle you into a group hug. You had been away for so long that they almost didn't recognize you—you had grown since you had last seen them five months ago, but you ought to think that it was the stress taking a toll on your body.

The merriment of your return drifted away as you explained to the boys why you visited. They comforted you for the rest of the evening and offered every kind of help. To say they were disappointed about the news was an understatement. Abel and Keiji were upset to learn the details, while Nifa exploded into flames—they found it absurd that Hange broke up with you and not the other way around.

"Seriously, why would someone do that to the sweetest girl out there?!" Nifa exclaimed, eyebrows knitted and face evidently furious.

You agreed with them. It was quite strange that Hange ended your relationship for that reason when it was something you could have made amends with. You had never fought in your relationship as any issue encountered was almost immediately solved with proper communication. It had always been that way since you started noticing Hange's workaholic attitude, which merely turned out for the worst.

You were lonely. On some days, you felt unloved. Hange couldn't spare you a glance as you made breakfast in the morning because they would be working away at the study the moment they woke up. The longest stretch without any real acknowledgment from them lasted four days, and it drove you mad. It was a cycle of waking up, going to work, and going to bed without them, and you had never felt more distant. You tried to invite them out to dinner in hopes of rebuilding your relationship, but you were always politely turned down.

That was arguably the worst part: they weren't mean about it. In fact, Hange seemed genuinely apologetic every time they declined. Yet as the days dragged on, the apologies began to sting. It didn't feel like them to refuse you so often. They had always loved going out with you, and even when work consumed their time in the past, they had always found a way to make room for you. This wasn't the Hange you knew.

What changed? You had wondered. Hange was always running around doing things and you were aware of that. They could never sit still because there was always something that they wanted to work on. You loved that about them; it was what you found interesting about Hange that made you fall for them harder. There is great honor in working so scholarly at a lab day and night and you couldn't be any prouder, but to do so in excess transformed it into a vice that hurt the both of you deeply.

Hange didn't know how to take care of themselves until you came into the picture. Their obsession with constantly working on things hindered them from eating regularly or looking after themselves. When their schedule got tighter the past few months and you witnessed their health deteriorating like a decreasing health bar in a video game, you got mad. Call it motherly girlfriend instincts and whatnot, but you were bothered by it.

"You didn't eat your food." You frowned upon seeing the small container with the food you cooked that morning. "What the— Hange! Why is your water bottle still full?!"

It was excessive. They weren't eating the food you packed them yet they would have the audacity to come up to you a few days later with a growling, aching stomach. "I swear, if you develop an ulcer, what are we going to do?!" You would cook for Hange whenever that happened, whether it be at 10 in the evening or two in the morning. Whenever they needed something, you were up and standing, ready to help them with whatever—and it was exactly why it hurt so much when they couldn't even hang out with you like you used to.

"I can do it all for you, so why can't you do it for me?"

Nonetheless, you didn't want to break up. No, that wasn't the best decision. It never was and it never will be. Hange is a scientist with a passion for learning, so surely they can learn to be better, yet they ended your relationship like they weren't willing to.

And even after weeks of not having Hange by your side, it still pissed you off so much that they couldn't just listen to you or make the commitment to do so. You couldn't suppress your anxiety either. Everyday, you would think about how they're doing without you being there to maintain things at home. You doubt the note you left by the fridge was enough to keep them going. While they eventually had to learn how to do things without you, there's a discomfort at the pit of your stomach that they wouldn't be able to live like normal without you around. Their regular job requires lots of time and attention on top of the many other commitments they have—hell, they probably will struggle with taking care of the cat!

Although the wound in your heart faded as time passed. While you still worried for Hange, your hurt became anger and anger became misery. You were upset—so upset, and you miss Hange (and Ion) so badly. Moving out of your apartment with not even a single word of closure stung so badly as if a part of your soul left and never returned. You would do anything in your power to get back together with them again, but was it a good decision to initiate?

"Especially when they ended it first?" Nifa spoke, rubbing her knees with cold hands as she sat across you on the living room floor. You had asked her if it was a good idea to ever come running back to an ex, to give them a second chance to make things better. "Usually not, but this kind of scenario often plays out for cheaters. Maybe it wouldn't be bad to get back together."

"I second that," Keiji said, seated on the armchair. "If they still don't change, make sure to end it once and for all."

"I wouldn’t initiate it myself," Abel added. Nifa shot him a pointed look, but he continued. "They broke up with you. No offense, but do yourself a favor—don’t go making a fool of yourself chasing after someone when you’re not even sure they want you back. If Hange wants to reconcile, let them do the begging."

You took their advice and followed your heart. You wanted to get back together because you weren't letting a single argument be the end of your relationship, and if Hange didn't want to restore your connection, you at least wanted some form of closure. On top of that, you wanted to see your cat.

So you distracted yourself.

You waited for them to reach out. Right after the breakup, you had blocked Hange's number partly to avoid the inevitable messages, knowing full well they'd try to reach out after a couple of days of silence. But you weren't ready to talk at the time, so their contact remained blocked for an entire week while you sorted through your emotions and sought advice from your friends. Eventually wanting to hear from them, you unblocked their number and left the door open for them to message you, but to your dismay, the days passed in silence and Hange hadn't reached out at all.

You looked through your private messages on different platforms yet you didn't receive any word from them. Your heart sunk at the revelation. Maybe Hange didn't want to talk to you. After all, they hid themselves inside their study when you came back to the apartment the morning after the breakup to pack your things into boxes. Maybe Hange truly didn't want to talk.

Grief consumed you in the days that followed, yet you couldn't bring yourself to reach out, afraid it would only deepen your pain. If nearly three weeks had passed without a word from Hange, it had to mean they were done with you, didn't it? Still, you clung stubbornly to the faint hope that they'd reach out one day. As the silence stretched on, however, the weight of waiting became too much to bear, and you knew you had to do something about it.

You couldn't stand it anymore. Waiting around for nothing just made you more anxious than you already were, so off to Instagram you went, removing everyone in your Close Friends except Hange. You knew they rarely spent time online except for networking sites like LinkedIn and ResearchGate, but you wanted to send some kind of signal without being too obvious.

You had gone out with your roommates the day you posted the story, so if Hange ever decided to open their Instagram after months of inactivity, it wouldn't be too obvious that you posted. When the post went through, you held your breath and ditched your phone to calm your raging nerves.

Will it work? Will they even see it? You thought to yourself, hopeful about the outcomes.

After an hour of waiting, however, you didn't hear anything from them. No view receipt, no new message, nothing. It didn't hurt that much since Hange rarely opened Instagram in the first place, but you were hoping that they would at least have the idea of coming online to check your account. Yet their account showed no activity, the green dot at the side of their profile picture missing every time you checked.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated. A notification went through.

my beloved Heyy... Ion misses you too...

The rest was history. You managed to arrange a meeting with Hange the following day under the guise of meeting Ion, but you hadn't done so without prancing around your room like a panicking idiot. You hadn't told anybody about posting your story in fear of jinxing things, so you replied to Hange with no one's help but yourself.

Now, you sit at the dining table with your roommates, who bicker over Keiji's homemade lunch about a manga series they've been following. You eat your food in silence as you think of a way to tell your friends that you had invited Hange over for a casual meeting in two hours, but you're left dry with ideas.

Eventually, it comes out of your mouth.

"What?" Abel mumbles to himself, freezing midair with the serving spoon and a bowl of chicken in his hands. Keiji drops his fork.

"You did what?!" Nifa screeches, followed by an apology from Abel for her indecency. "Girl, I— sorry, you invited them here? Like, you aren't joking?"

"Listen, I"—you gulp—"I invited them because I wanted to see the cat."

"Never mind the cat. Your ex is still coming," Nifa points out.

"Of course, I know that—"

"Are you sure about this?" Abel asks. Your eyes fall down to your plate. "Just so we're clear, we're not mad at you for having them over."

"I understand," you reply.

"We're worried for you."

"I understand that, too," you say. Abel is silent. "Look, I know it sounds dumb, but I promise I didn't invite them over just like that. I truly did want to see Ion and I wasn't expecting a reply."

"What did you do?" Keiji asks. You tell him about your elaborate plan and he nods his head in approval. "Wow. You have insane luck."

"I do, and I just— I meant it when I said that I didn't expect it, okay? You all know Hange, they're... chronically offline. Not that good with social media."

Nifa snorts. "Yeah, you could say that again. I'm surprised they even knew how to reply to an Insta story." Mashing her chicken with her fork, she clears her throat. "Well, I guess we should get going ASAP."

"You aren't mad?" you ask, surprised.

"I don't see the point. You should live your life the way you want to," she says. "Also, it makes us feel better that you're here because of a misunderstanding and not any of that cheating bullshit."

"I would have ripped their throat out if you had come here for that." Keiji seethes. You giggle.

"Don't worry. You'll never have to."

"Ugh, why am I tearing up?" Nifa dramatically pauses. She lets go of her utensils and leans over to your side. "God, come here for a hug!"

"Group hug!" Keiji rejoices, his hands automatically locating your head and giving you a couple of pats. Abel follows suit, leaning next to you.

"Just don't hurt yourself," he says as he embraces you back. Keiji and Nifa nod.

"I won't. I promise."

SIX.

Your roommates left the apartment after they finished cleaning up. They promised to hang out for a few hours at a nearby café and that they would be one call away in case you needed anything. They trusted that you and Hange won't go batshit crazy at the apartment, but if it ever came down to that, Keiji and Abel promised to arrive in three minutes tops.

The clock ticks by as the silence envelopes the apt. You're sitting on the arm of the couch as you bounce your knee impatiently. It's 1:45 PM, exactly 15 minutes before your scheduled meeting, yet you're already stationed by the door.

You inhale sharply when the doorbell rings.

Standing from the couch, you approach the entrance. You look through the peephole to check the new arrival, and your heart swells upon seeing a patch of orange fur in Hange's arms.

It's now or never.

You open the door.

"Hi. I'm here, like you asked... ha-ha." Hange laughs slowly, the awkwardness sinking in. When silence falls in the air, they look at the cat and offer him to you. "Um, anyway, here's Ion, the cat. Our cat... that we, um, co-parent together— sorry, was that term triggering? Whatever. Anyway, here he is— oh, uhuh, yep— Ion, relax!"

Ion leaps into your arms the moment he realizes that you're in front of him. You look the same as the last time he saw you, your features still recognizable by his little cat brain. Ion is also delighted to see that you aren't crying anymore. When you dashed in and out of the apartment a month ago with tears falling on your face, he couldn't handle the fear and confusion that consumed him.

The moment you catch the cat, you hold him close to your chest and snuggle his head into your shoulder. Ion does so obediently, sniffing you in the process to refresh his memory with your scent. Hange watches the scene unfold in front of them, their heart warming up and a big smile appearing on their face as Ion happily purrs in your hold. Leaning on the door, they allow themselves to get lost at the warm sight in front of them, nostalgic of the domestic life with you and your feline child.

When Ion calms down, you thank Hange sheepishly.

"Well," you start after a few seconds of quiet, "are you just going to stand there?"

"Oh." Hange's eyes shoot up. "You want me to...?"

You sigh. "Just come in."

Hange follows your request and slowly walks in the apartment. As you close the door, they look around to observe. So much has changed since the last time they visited. It's a much bigger space compared to your shared one on the other side of town to house four people, and although your creative touch is initially unrecognizable as opposed to the old days, Hange figures out that if they look hard enough, they can see your touches here and there—the flower vase at the foot of the TV and the little figurines inside the glass shelf by the dining room corner are household articles that only they can recognize in familiarity.

"Are your roommates home?" they ask. You shake your head. "So that leaves the both of us here... alone?"

You sit yourself on the couch and release Ion to let him explore the apartment. Hange cautiously occupies the space beside you, leaving some space in between to make things less awkward.

You bat your eyelashes. Nodding your head, you purse your lips and decide to let your actions do the talking. You still aren't sure if you want to initiate the conversation, so you leave the opportunity for Hange to grab.

And they notice. Taking a deep breath in, Hange decides it's the perfect time to address the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry," they say softly. Rubbing their hands together, they decide at the last second to ditch their script and just go for it. You listen intently. "I thought about it after you moved out. I've done wrong in the past, but this has to be the pinnacle of my mistakes. I was mad, and I didn't realize the weight of my words until you left... I'm sorry."

"Is that all?"

"No." They shake their head. "Of course not. I would say more, but it gets overwhelming." Hange turns their head to the side and meets your eyes for the first time in a month. You allow them to look. "What do you want to know?"

You shift in your seat.

"Why you broke up with me." Hange looks away when they hear the sadness in your voice. "Why you thought breaking up was the best decision at that time."

"I didn't," they say. "I eventually regretted it. I still do."

"But you just let me be." You frowned. "You didn't... you didn't chase after me, you didn't run after me when I left the next day. I didn't even receive a single message after two weeks—"

"You know I wanted to," Hange cuts you off, looking back at you with a pained expression. "But I had to stop myself. I couldn't start begging you to come back without considering your feelings. What kind of person would that make me, if not even more selfish?"

They lean forward, elbows on their knees as they stare into nothingness. "I was angry. Stubborn, but angry. When you nagged at me, I just— I just wanted you away. I didn't want to be disturbed and it annoyed me when you did because I was working. I did it to push you away even though it wasn't the best decision."

"That was a mistake, Hange," you remark. Hange mutters a quick, "I know," in response. "Did you think that I could do better?"

"You could say that. For the longest time, I never thought of one to be less sufficient than the other. We were great, but I couldn't meet your needs as well as before when things were becoming busy." Hange rests their forehead on the heels of their palms and shuts their eyes. "I wanted focus. I didn't want distractions, and more importantly, I was tired."

Expression turning sour, you say, "Distraction? Our relationship was a distraction, was that it?"

"It," Hange hesitates, "it was what I thought."

Leaning back on the couch, you look away from Hange as their words sink in. Your eyes well up with tears, an irksome occurrence amid the exchange. You promised yourself earlier that you wouldn't cry as you had already done enough in the past few weeks, but they just come, and you make no effort to stop them.

"Even after everything I did?"

Hange heeds the hurt in your voice, prompting them to come closer in response for comfort.

"I-I'm sorry. I promise you, I thought things out when you were gone and I regret it. I really do!"

"A distraction," you choke out. "Ugh, god. I've never heard that one before."

"I'm sorry..." Hange says for the nth time that day. They try to come closer to see your face, but you avoid them. "I didn't have my priorities straight. I always made time for you in the past, but I just got so obsessed and I— I'm so sorry."

No response. You let your tears run while you cry in silence. Hange doesn't know what to do and the panic settles in.

"Hey… I realized how hard it was to live without you, so I'm here to talk it out." You sniff. Hange is starting to crumble. "Baby, I'm a difficult person who had an easier life because of you. In hindsight, you were no distraction. I thought that way because I was an obsessive freak, and I hate myself for hurting you! I've gotten even crankier to the point of drinking Levi's melatonin black tea, and— and—"

Ion suddenly hops on you, finding his normal spot on your lap before you decided to one day disappear from his life. Surprised, you let the cat sit on your lap as he meows anxiously at the tension in the air. Hange breathes in.

"The cat!" They cry. "The cat misses you! He scratches me like I'm a walking cat scratcher every time he demands to see you. He's been wondering where his mother went because she hasn't been home in a month!"

Hange watches Ion purr against your touch, enjoying your company as he realizes that you aren't dead after all, just gone for a very long time. He turns around from his seated position on your lap to lay on his back, his tummy showing and vulnerable to you, a sign of trust toward his owner.

Hange's heart sinks another time when you pull Ion close after wiping your tears away, a bittersweet pang reminding them of the days when they could simply glance at you and the cat, content in the quiet comfort of your shared space as they worked in their study. For what feels like the hundredth time that day, regret wells up, filling the hollow ache in their chest. If it weren't for your presence keeping them anchored, they might have broken down completely right then and there.

"I'm sorry," they choke out as they gently reach for your hand and hold it in theirs, possibly for the final time. They know there isn't a single word, phrase, or sentence out there that can articulate the graveness of their apology, but they hope to get it across as much as they can. "I'm an asshole for coming here in the first place, but if it means getting proper closure and allowing our cat to see you again, I don't regret it. I hope you can forgive me for invading your space."

You sigh. "That's enough, Hange."

"Huh?" They drop your hand in response, afraid of what's to come.

"I get it. You're sorry for what you did." Ion rolls around in your lap, soon standing on his hind legs with his forelegs reaching out to you for a hug. You hug him back. "I'm just, um, I'm just worried now, and I've been worried. How were you? Were you doing okay?"

Hange exhales in relief. "Dear, you didn't have to worry about me."

You frown.

"No, love. I want to worry about you. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't?" Hange's heart skips a beat when you call them with the term of endearment. "So? How was life then?"

"I reached the conclusion that being single isn't good for me." They pout. They hold your hand again. "I struggled so much alone. I survived, but surviving isn't living. Life felt empty when I didn't have the sweetest girl making me happy."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I mean it! I love living with you, I love loving you. I know I can do that even when we're not together, but it makes my life so much fuller when you're in the picture."

They look down at Ion, who looks at them from his peripheral vision like he's judging them dramatically.

"You and Ion, of course."

"Mrrao!"

Snuggling with Ion, you kiss his nose. He purrs back in contentment.

"I just... I didn't feel as loved as I used to," you say. "I love living my life knowing that it's you who I end up with, but I must have loved you too hard. Maybe I love you too much because I want to spend more time with you, to always be around you."

"And you aren't selfish for that," Hange declares. "You deserve to be loved for the woman you are and for the love you give. You did so much for me, yet I didn't pay you back. You had every right to complain. Now that you have, I hope to make things right and compensate you for all the times I acted so dumbly. I'll make time for you again and I'll take care of myself better—I promise."

"But how do I know that you're telling the truth?" you whisper. Second chances are hard to come by. To give an ex this special chance to make things right doesn't happen to just anyone, and it rarely even works out the second time around. What is Hange willing to do for you when you've already done so much for them? "Tell me what you're willing to do. How do I know, Hange?"

"Because I called off everything I had to do today just to come here." Hange smiles a bit. That's your cue to realize that they did, indeed, skip work today just to visit you and iron things out. It's a Monday afternoon, and Hange could have simply taken a half-day shift, but they decided against it entirely. "And, as a matter of fact, I would do it again, and again, and again."

"Oh, Hange, don't waste your—"

"No, no! You got the wrong idea!" they exclaim. "I'm not going to take the entire week off just to prove a point briefly and go back to being a douchebag the following week. I figured that, out of everything, temperance is a virtue that I should work on. I want to be there for you when you need me and I will be there."

Your tears have dried at this point, having left a puffy texture on your eyes. Hange carefully massages your hand in theirs as you find the right words to say.

"Promise me this, Hange."

"I promise."

"Then kiss me if you want to seal it."

With a big grin on their face, Hange leans forward and wraps their hands around your body, laughing softly as Ion looks up in between the both of you with curious eyes. Hange pats his head, mumbles a quick apology to the cat, and kisses you gently with that silly grin still on their face. You kiss them back slowly, heart warming up to the sweet moment of having your partner back into your life to complete your little family of three.

Hange pulls away, but they stay close to you, their hands cupping your face. "I missed you so badly."

"I missed you, too. Being away from you killed me more than being with you all the time. Believe it or not, it felt more toxic." You sigh. "I want to move back in, but you need to give me a few days to… well, process things."

"Of course, take your time as needed. I can't just steal you a second time from your roommates, you know?" Hange jokes as they stroke your cheek.

"I stole you from Erwin and Levi," you deadpan, "but yes, it should be fine. Just give me time to say goodbye and pack my things."

Hange looks over to the side. A part of them feels guilty for taking you away from your roommates so easily. "You don't have to move in right away if you still want to stay here for a bit, you know? I respect your decision if you think it's too fast."

You shake your head cutely. "Cut that out! We need to pay our bills soon and I have to cuddle Ion in bed!"

"Huh? But what about me?" They frown out of jealousy. Ion yawns, like he's telling them to get over it. "Cheeky cat."

"You'll get even better cuddles." You giggle. Hange laughs along, completely missing the innuendo. They're just happy to hear you giggling again. "To start, would you like a complete family hug? Maybe you'd even want to stay for a bit. The guys won't be going home unless I tell them to—"

"Are you joking? I would love to!"

If you found Hange clingy before you broke up, then you certainly find their behavior ten times more excessive now. Upon your request, they rest their body on yours, placing their head on your chest and feeling the rise and fall of your calm breaths. They pet the cat next to them, whom Hange believes to have smiled as well when he notices your physical contact. They're right—Ion is happy. He's satisfied seeing that his two owners are back together, and that neither of you are crying anymore.

As they lay on your chest, Hange lets their mind go numb. They lay in silence, keeping their delighted reactions to themselves when you would fiddle with their hair or play with their fingers. The moment is spent in quietude, but it's perfect—the ideal time for Hange to solemnly swear to the gods, the transcendent beings, to themselves, most especially, that they will never let you go.

There are only so many people in the world that they get along with, let alone be so open to the idea of loving. Hange vows to stay true to their words, to treat you better—kiss you better—as you have always deserved.

-

ctto for the cat photo (via pinterest)

also i saw this tweet while writing and i just NFDHBFHD THIS IS SO ACCURATELY HANGE IN THIS FIC LMAO

[bitchesuntitled]

Memories

Summary: What happens when your husband, Dieter, forgets who you are?

Warnings: 18+ minors get outta here! Cursing, fluff, smut, feel good, oral(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), probably not like realistic medical knowledge but it’s fiction 🤷‍♀️

A/N: Thank you so much @papipascalispunk for editing. @jay-zzle for the idea AND the mood board 😍❤️ I really liked writing this and had a lot of fun with it. Hope y’all like it! @schnarfer(it's here!)

Masterlist||AO3 Link

“Wait, who said we can’t have fruit bars anymore?” you ask, turning from the pantry to look at your seven year old daughter, Luna, sitting at the kitchen island.

“Daddy,” Luna states matter of factly, “He said that it’s fake food and we should only eat organic stuff.”

“Yeah, we need organic food,” your son Leo pipes in from the seat next to her. At three years old, he is currently in the copy everything big sister says or does phase.

“So, what do you want as a snack in your lunch box then?” you ask, raising your eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“Uhhh… banana?” Luna shrugs, “Daddy wasn’t very specific on what I should eat instead.”

“Okay but get your breakfast eaten before your cereal gets soggy,” you say, pointing at both before starting on the dishes.

Of course Dieter would be the one to tell the kids not to eat certain foods. The man scolds you every time he sees your Bluetooth headphones – droning on and on about the effects it’ll have on your brain waves and how it’s going to damage your mind. Your relationship with Dieter was a bit of a chaotic whirlwind, meeting randomly on the set of one of the movies he starred in, one your friend was working on the set of.

“Well, hello there,” Dieter had said, standing next to you by the craft table. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Excuse me?” you asked, looking around to see who he was actually talking to.

“Or should I walk by again?” he said with a smile.

“Is that how you get all the girls?” you asked, picking up a piece of cheese and pointing it at him, “Because that shit was pretty cheesy if you ask me.”

“No, trying something new,” Dieter said, cracking up into a giant fit of laughter. “Sorry, sorry. That– yeah, that was pretty good.”

“Bravo needed on set!” someone with a headset shouted in the distance, frantically waving at him.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he sighed, “Hope to see you ar– wait, what’s your name?”

You introduce yourself and he takes your hand, kissing the back of it.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, repeating your name and winking, “Hope to see you around.”

That was the conversation that started it all nearly eight years ago. Within the first year of knowing Dieter, you were married and pregnant – and no – it wasn’t a shotgun wedding, as much as the tabloids tried to pin it as one.

“Dieter Bravo and Mystery Woman Seen Leaving Las Vegas Wedding Chapel”

“Dieter Bravo Expecting First Child with New Wife – Shotgun Wedding?”

“How Long Before Dieter Bravo Gets His First Divorce?”

You both just knew you were meant to be together. With the birth of Luna, he had sobered up completely. These days he hardly even drinks beer. It’s weird in a way, that he’s changed so much from who you first met, but still the same Dieter in every other aspect. Wild, spontaneous, creative, romantic, chaotic at times, and so loving.

–

“Good morning, my babies,” Dieter says, waltzing into the kitchen, giving each of his kids a kiss on the top of their heads.

“Hi, Daddy,” Luna and Leo exclaim.

“Hello, my love,” Dieter smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist giving you a sloppy smooch on the cheek.

“Ew,” Luna shouts, making gagging noises.

“Yeah, what Luna said!” Leo says, copying his older sister with fake gagging.

“Stop with the fake gagging,” he replies, looking at them, “You’ll make mommy sick.”

“Hi, babe,” you laugh, “Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”

“I want to start doing my own stunts like Tom Cruise,” Dieter explains excitedly, “And I think I’m going to crush it today! I’m supposed to scale a building, don’t worry, everything is going to be totally safe.”

“Seriously, Dieter?” you sigh, “You may say that it’s safe but I’m still going to worry – please be safe.”

Dieter gasps, putting his hand to his chest as if he were clutching a set of pearls. “Babies, I don’t think mommy trusts daddy!”

“Momma,” Leo laughs, perching up on the chair more, “Daddy be fine!”

“Yeah, momma,” Dieter says with a grin, “Daddy be fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, snorting and shaking your head, looking at your watch you realize you’re going to be cutting it close in getting Luna to school on time. “Shit!”

“Mommy,” Luna scolds, “You shouldn’t say bad words like that!”

“Luna, hurry up with your cereal or else you’re going to be late for school again,” you say as you turn to Dieter who is rummaging in the fridge for his own breakfast. “What time do you have to be on set?”

“In about an hour, get her to school. My favorite son and I will be fine here at home. If need be, I’ll tell the director that I’m going to be late. Family first,” he says, “Not like they’d fire me at this point. I’m the entire reason people are going to want to see this movie.”

“I love you so much,” you say, giving him a kiss before ushering Luna out the door.

“Love you too, baby!” Dieter shouts.

–

“I’m back,” you announce from the front door.

“That didn’t take as long as I expected,” Dieter chuckles, “I gotta get headed to the studio though.” He scoops Leo up into a tight hug, “We'll play superhero when I get back home, okay?”

“Otay,” Leo says, pouting.

“Poor baby,” Dieter coos and glances up at you with a smirk, “You sure you don’t want another one?”

“Dieter,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, “We’ve talked about this. If it feels right, then maybe, but right now? No.”

“Fine,” Dieter groans, “But the moment you think it feels right, tell me?”

“Promise,” you smirk.

Dieter tells Leo goodbye with the promise of playing superheroes when he gets back home. Your mind begins to wander back to Dieter’s question about another baby as you go about your chores. You start smiling thinking back to when you first decided to start trying for a baby –  lying in bed together shortly after getting married.

“How many kids do you want?” Dieter asked, playing with the wedding band on your finger.

“I’d always imagined three honestly,” you smiled, “Why?”

“I want whatever you want,” he grinned, slotting himself between your legs again. “But if you wanted at least one I wouldn’t mind trying now.”

“D, we just got married a month ago,” you said, shaking your head, “Is that the only reason you married me? To have a baby?”

“Of course not, baby,” Dieter said, linking his fingers with yours and pinning them above your head, “I just know I really, really want them with you.”

“Oh yeah?” you whispered, tilting your head up to capture his lips. He moaned into your mouth, slowly grinding his stiffness against you.

“Yes,” he panted, breaking the kiss.

“Let’s do it then,” you said, nipping his bottom lip, “Fuck a baby into me, Dieter.”

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he groaned.

“Momma!” Leo shouts, pulling you from your thoughts, “Your phone.”

You had been so deep in the memory you didn’t even notice your phone ringing. It’s just Dieter, probably checking in to see how your day is going. He tends to do that while he’s on breaks at work.

“Well, hello, Tom Cruise,” you answer, giggling – except it isn’t Dieter on the other end. 

Instead, you hear his assistant, Andy, saying your name before, “Dieter’s been in an accident. I’m almost to your house, I’ll watch Leo so you can go to Cedars-Sinai medical,” quickly spills out of his mouth, “It’s not good.”

–

It’s been two weeks that you’ve sat beside his bed in this damn hospital, waiting for him to wake up. The doctors are all hopeful that he’ll wake up at any minute, but it’s been two days since he’s been off the ventilator, and nothing has happened yet. The kids keep asking where their dad is, and you don’t have any other answer than he’s sick. 

“Dieter,” you beg, holding onto his hand, “Babe, please wake up. We need you. Luna and Leo miss you – I miss you. Please just wake up.”

The nurse comes in to check Dieter’s vitals for the third time today. Since she’s keeping him company, you decide to head to the cafeteria to get some food, grabbing something simple before heading back to Dieter’s room. When you return, you notice a flurry of activity.

“Mr. Bravo, can you tell me what year it is?” a doctor asks, shining a small flashlight in his eyes.

“Of course I can, dumbass! It’s 2016,” Dieter snaps. “Now will you stop shining that light in my eye?”

“What’s going on?” you ask hesitantly.

“He woke up while you went to get food,” a nurse explains, “We’re trying to make sure mentally he’s with us.”

“Oh, for fuck sake!” Dieter cries out, “I’m fine, never felt better! There, she must be my new assistant.”

All eyes turn to you. This was a possibility the doctor had talked about before – temporary amnesia. Hopefully that’s all it is. The doctor motions you to follow him out of the room.

“He seems to have hit his head harder than we thought. In all honesty, I would try to play pretend with him for a little bit. Try thinking of things that might remind him of who he actually is today,” the doctor suggests. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Bravo.”

Dieter is having a conniption in the room while nurses are trying to calm him down. As you step back in, you see your husband frantically disconnecting and throwing the wires off of his body and onto the floor. 

“Where the fuck is my assistant?” Dieter yells.

“Dieter, D, baby – Mr. Bravo!” you shout and Dieter immediately freezes, eyes wide as saucers. “You need to calm down before you hurt yourself.”

“What happened?” Dieter asks, looking around at everyone.

“We’ll give you guys some space,” a nurse says quietly while ushering the others out of the room. You grab the chair next to his bed and sit down, reaching for his hand but stopping yourself as you notice your ring. Right now, this isn’t your husband. This is Dieter Bravo who believes it’s the year 2016.

“You were in an accident, you hit your head pretty good,” you start explaining to him, “You’ve been in a coma for two weeks now.”

“So, who are you?” he asks, looking you up and down with a raised eyebrow. “I knew my team wanted to hire me a new assistant since things didn’t work out with the last one – didn’t realize they’d pick someone so hot. Would you wanna have sex with me?”

“Dieter, I don’t think you’re cleared for those types of activities,” you chuckle, “I’m here for whatever you might need though.”

“Can you get me my phone?” he asks with those puppy-dog eyes he does best.

“Sure,” you reach for your purse digging around and find his phone, handing it over to him. “The passcode is 332016”

“The fuck? Why would I change it from the classic 42069?” he asks, looking at you with confusion.

“It’s uh… an important day to you,” you say, looking away, not wanting him to see the tears forming in your eyes. The day you met. 

“So, did I have an accident on set?”

“Yeah, you were scaling a building and the cable holding you snapped. You fell a good distance and smacked your head on the ground.”

“Wait,” Dieter says looking at his phone calendar, pointing it towards you, “Why does this say it’s 2024?”

“Because it’s not 2016,” you shrug, “It’s 2024.”

“How long have I been in a fucking coma?” Dieter asks, starting to panic again, frantically searching through the contacts in his phone, “Why can’t I find my dealer's number? I need coke. Wait, you’re my fucking assistant – go get me coke!”

“You’ve only been in a coma for two weeks and the only coke I’ll get you is Coca Cola,” you say crossing your arms, “I won’t let you have drugs in m– the house, Dieter.”

“Wait, my assistant lives with me?” he gasps, “You’re just supposed to come when I call you.”

“Different kind of assistant here.”

“Wait, I can’t have you in my house! I see that ring on your finger – I don’t want to get in between a marriage,” Dieter says, pointing at your left hand.

“It’s– it’s complicated right now,” you shrug.

“Fine, stay in my house, but stay out of my way,” Dieter sighs in frustration.

This is going to be a lot harder than you thought. He doesn’t remember who you are to him. He doesn’t remember getting clean when he married you. He doesn’t remember anything. Going home that night doesn’t help either because Luna wants to know what’s going on with her dad.

“Andy said that daddy woke up!” Luna says vibrating with excitement, “How come he’s not home?

“I had to leave him at the hospital because he’s still sick, honey.” You sit down on the plush couch in the living room, “Come here. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” Luna hesitantly says, coming to sit next to you.

“Daddy is still sick. He looks fine but his brain is sick right now.”

“What’s that mean?” she questions, looking at you with the same eyes as her father.

“He doesn’t remember some stuff about his life right now,” you continue, “But we are gonna try to help him get it back. We have to think of the best memories we have with daddy so that maybe he’ll remember better.”

“So, we have to fix daddy?” she asks with tears in her eyes as you grab her into a hug, stroking her hair.

“Yeah, sweet girl, we have to fix daddy,” you say, trying not to cry yourself.

–

What was supposed to only be a few days turned into a week at the hospital. A week of playing Dieter’s assistant and having him boss you around. He was still adamant on getting drugs, but you put your foot down on that one. You weren’t going to let him ruin his seven years of sobriety just because he lost his memory.

“Alright Mr. Bravo looks like you’re all set to leave. Just need you to sign a couple of papers here and then you can be on your way,” the doctor says, handing him the papers.

“Fucking finally,” Dieter groans, “Not that this isn’t a wonderful hospital, but I’d much rather be home.”

“Of course,” the doctor says.

“Will you go ahead and bring the car around? I’d rather not walk too much considering my condition,” Dieter asks, looking at you.

“Of course, D– Mr. Bravo,” you grit through your teeth with the most customer service smile you can muster. That was a new development, Dieter wanting you only to refer to him as Mr. Bravo. You rush out of the room so that it doesn’t blow up into another argument. He’s already tried to fire you twice because of the no drugs thing. You had to make up some story of how you’re in a five-year contract that cannot be broken and tell him three times before he finally bought the story.

Pulling the car around to the front of the hospital, you see him being wheeled out.

“Thank you again so much for taking care of me,” he says, winking at the nurse, “Best care I’ve ever received!”

“No problem at all, Dieter,” she giggles. 

“Could I possibly get your number?” Dieter asks, looking expectantly at the nurse after getting settled into the passenger seat of the car. She shakes her head violently.

“No, sorry,” she says before running off wheeling the wheelchair back into the building.

“Well, that was fucking weird,” Dieter says, looking at you. “Did I do something wrong? Most women don’t literally run from me like that.”

“No, Mr. Bravo, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you growl, “Nothing at all.”

You begin to play a song you hope might bring back some sort of memory of you. With all the hope you can muster you hit play and hear Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz, one of the songs you guys would listen to while you got high together. Dieter starts to chuckle listening to the song.

“What?” you snap at him.

“It’s just this song,” Dieter said grinning, “It reminds me of someone.”

“Oh?” you ask, trying not to pry too much hoping he’ll just continue talking.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what her name is, though. Good lay, that’s for damn sure,” he says, laughing a little, “All I remember is she wasn’t even in the business, she’d call me out on all my shit, and we would smoke weed together listening to this song a lot. I think that’s why I liked her. Wonder what she’s up to these days?”

“Oh um… who knows, maybe she’s still in town?” Your heart swells realizing he’s talking about you, that he remembers some remnants of you. 

“No way!” Dieter says and sighs, “Way too fucking good for someone like me anyways. Probably found some nice guy, got married, has kids, the whole white picket fence shit and everything. She was way out of my league.”

Pulling up to the house you don’t even know what to say to him. He looks almost defeated in a way and then looks confused when he sees the front door opening.

“Oh no,” you whisper, watching Luna run to the car, “Dieter, wait here. Do not move!”

“Why the fuck are there children at my house?” he asks while you’re getting out, but you shut the door behind you, ignoring him.

“Luna, baby, I need you to go back into the house. Daddy’s sick, remember?” you say, trying to usher her back up the driveway.

“Mommy!” Leo shrieks, running to you.

“Fuck – I mean fudge,” Andy says, frantically running out to the driveway, “I was in the bathroom. She must’ve heard the car, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“The hell is going on here?” Dieter’s voice booms while getting out of the car, “I asked you why there are kids in my house.”

“Da–” Luna starts, but you cut her off.

“You two, inside. Now,” you say, ushering them towards Andy. Once they’re inside you whip around to look at Dieter standing by the car.

“You,” you snarl, walking towards him, “Screw what the doctor said. I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m not your fucking assistant so stop bossing me around. I’m your wife – those two are our children!”

“Wha–” Dieter stares at you with wide eyes, “D– DNA Test, I want a fucking DNA test!”

“Dieter, there isn’t a need for a DNA test because they’re your kids. I mean, did you even look at them?”

“Those are not my kids, they look Latino,” he argues.

“Dieter!” you yell, “You are Latino.”

“Oh, yeah,” he whispers, looking down. “So, you’re my wife?”

“Yes, Dieter, I’m your wife. I’m the girl that would get high with you listening to Clint Eastwood.”

“Wild,” he says looking at the house, the ground below him, the yard, anywhere but you “Wild.”

–

It’s been a week at home now, but Dieter is trying his hardest to regain his memory after you lay everything out on the table for him. You show him pictures of your Las Vegas wedding, your pregnancy photos, the kids’ births – he finally relents to the truth when you show him their birth certificates with his name listed under Father. Luna has been trying to show him drawings that she’s done for him, but nothing is working. Poor Leo just wants to play superheroes, but at just three years old, he doesn’t understand what’s going on at all.

One night, after you put the kids to bed, Dieter comes to your bedroom.

“What if we had sex?” he suggests.

“Dieter, I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” you groan, flopping onto the bed rubbing your eyes.

“I’m just saying, what if we did?” he shrugs, “Was just a suggestion, but I get it.”

“Come here,” you say, patting the spot next to you in bed. He reluctantly sits down next to you as you open your arms as an invitation. “How about we cuddle?”

He nods, setting his head on your chest. You can tell he didn’t know what to do with his hands because he’s so tense. You grab one of them and push it around your back, hoping he’ll understand your silent suggestion. 

“Like this?” he whispers, carefully adjusting both arms to wrap around you.

“Just like that,” you hum, stroking the curls at the base of his neck, breathing his scent in for the first time in weeks. Clean laundry, a hint of eucalyptus, and something that’s so specifically Dieter.

“I like this,” Dieter purs, rubbing his head against your chest, “I wish so badly I could just remember everything.”

“I know D, I know,” you sigh, continuing to gently stroke his head, “We’ll get there.”

Dieter moves so his head is in the crook of your neck. You feel his lips begin to place soft kisses against your skin.

“Dieter,” you gasp, turning your head to look at him, “What are you doing?”

“I wanna make you feel better,” he says, giving you those puppy dog eyes you can never refuse. “You’ve had to deal with a lot and this is the only way I know how to try and make things right.”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding your head. As much as you’ve avoided intimacy with Dieter while his memory was gone, he’s still your Dieter and you miss him. 

He starts nipping along your jaw and down your neck. One of his hands moves to your breast gently kneading it. His lips move down your throat to your chest, making his way down to your stomach and pushing your shirt up. He places several kisses around your navel down to the top of your underwear, looking up at you again for confirmation. “It’s okay,” you nod, giving him the go ahead. He peels them off your hips and down your legs, throwing them to the floor.

Without warning he flattens his tongue, licking a stripe up your seam. Working his tongue against your clit and back down to your entrance. Up and down, up and down.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve missed this,” you cry out, running your fingers through his hair, “Feels so fucking good!”

Dieter starts humming, loving the praise you were giving him. His tongue continues circling your bundle of nerves, hoping to hear more words of praise.

“Taste so fucking good,” he says breaking away, “Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

You grip his hair tightly and shove his face back to your core. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you can feel your orgasm approaching.

“Please don’t stop,” you moan, “I’m so fucking close!”

Dieter doubles down his efforts after hearing those words. He’s determined to get you off now. One of his hands makes its way to your center, teasing your entrance before plunging two of his thick fingers inside, curling them up to hit that spot only he’s ever been able to reach.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, back arching, “Y– yes, just like that!”

He starts grunting, rutting into the mattress, so badly needing to make you come. He knows you’re close, listening to your breathing and hearing the pitch of your moans. 

“D,” you moan, while he grabs your thighs, pulling you unbelievably closer to his face to completely devour you before sliding his fingers back into you. “I’m gonna come!”

“Give it to me, baby, come on,” he says, pulling away panting before diving back in for more, “I need it”. He feels the way your legs begin to shake, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Fuck,” you hiss, head thrown back against the pillow closing your eyes, “I– I’m gonna… god.”

Dieter feels your walls constrict around his fingers and hums, collecting your release slowly. He takes his time licking you clean before you push him away, feeling overly sensitive. When you finally open your eyes to look at him, you notice his smile and a glint in his eyes. He crawls back up the length of your body and you grab his face, kissing him deeply tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I can’t believe you married me,” he says, breaking the kiss and wrapping his arms around you again, “Love me forever?”

“Dieter, I’m pretty sure I’ve already proven that I’ll love you forever,” you softly chuckle, beginning to stroke his back.

–

The doctor keeps saying to just be patient, that it’s going to take time for Dieter’s memory to return. But it feels like it’s been forever as another week passes. Everyone is getting frustrated, especially Leo.

“Why is daddy broke?” Leo screams at the top of his lungs, “He no play with me!”

“Leo, Daddy just doesn’t feel good,” you try to explain.

“He no like me!” Leo wails, “He only likes Luna.”

“Leo, daddy does too like you,” you try telling him, “He loves you very much.” 

“No,” Leo cries as you scoop him up as he buries his face into your shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” you soothe.

It wasn’t that Dieter wasn’t trying with the kids, he just didn’t know how. His dad instincts hadn’t been brought back full-force. He was great with Luna –  engaged in conversation with her, drew pictures with her, watched her put on fashion shows. With Leo though, he didn’t know how to interact with a toddler. Leo would get upset and Dieter didn’t know what to do besides call you for help. Before Dieter’s accident Leo was his little buddy, followed him everywhere, would play with him for hours being superheroes or whatever Leo decided on that day.

You were able to get Leo to calm down and because of his tantrum he wound up falling asleep. After putting him in his bed for a nap you went to search for Dieter.

“Hey,” you sigh, seeing him standing by the window looking into the backyard.

“Hey,” he says sniffling, wiping his sleeve against his nose, “I’m so sorry.”

“Dieter, I’m not the one you should be saying sorry to. Leo misses you! I know that you’re trying, I do, but I need you to try harder for him,” you sigh, “I can’t pretend that I even know what you’re going through, but our baby boy is hurting because he misses his dad!”

“I know,” Dieter says turning around, you could now see the tears falling down his face, “It’s just… he scares me! It’s easier with Luna because I can understand every word she says, she can show me things, she doesn’t throw a tantrum every five minutes.”

“Dieter, he’s your son! Not some little monster to be scared of! He’s three and doesn’t know any better,” you scold him, “Like I said, I just need you to try.”

“Okay,” Dieter agrees, wiping the tears off his face, “When he wakes up from his nap, I’ll try.”

Dieter could hear Leo awake in his room as he slowly made his way there.

“Dad-Bomb an’ dude-bomb! To rescue!” Leo says, jumping off his bed with a cape around his shoulders. Dieter stands in the doorway observing him. Why did that sound so familiar? Dad-Bomb.

“Hey Leo,” Dieter says cautiously, “What are you playing?”

“Superhero,” Leo smiles, “Want to play with me?”

“Can I?” Dieter exclaims, “I’ve always wanted to be a superhero!”

“Yeah!” Leo shouts, running to his closet to grab something. He comes back out with a big purple cape with D-B on the back, handing it to Dieter. “Put on your cape.”

Dieter pulls the cape around his neck, tying it so it wouldn’t fall off. He notices Leo’s little green cape he was wearing also had D-B on the back.

“Do we have names, Leo?” Dieter asks, “I can’t help but see we have stuff on the back of our super-awesome capes!”

“I’m Dude-Bomb, you’re Dad-Bomb!” Leo gleefully exclaims 

“Dad-Bomb?”

“Yeah, like ‘da-bomb’ –  means super cool,” Leo giggles.This was starting to feel extremely familiar to Dieter. 

Leo scampers off to his closet again, rummaging through it trying to find something. He comes back holding a piece of paper and hands it to Dieter. Dieter holds it up, staring at it. His drawing of Dad-Bomb and Dude-Bomb, fighting crime together, and it all comes rushing back.

“Oh my god, Leo,” Dieter yells.

He picks Leo up, swinging him around. Hearing the commotion, you start running towards Leo’s room fearing the worst. Rounding the corner into the room, you saw Dieter crying, hugging Leo tightly and swinging him back and forth.

“Dad-Bomb and Dude-Bomb!” Dieter exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, that’s you an’ me!” Leo announces proudly.

“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, looking at both of them.

“Yeah. March 3, 2016 – that’s the day I met you,” Dieter says, tears rolling down his face.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “Baby.”

“Yeah, baby. It’s all back,” he says, setting Leo back down and rushing to grab you in a tight embrace, “I’m back.”

[lostintransist]

Onto part two of these stupid words vomits

Next up Kyle!

Oh how the gold and feathers glistened, a party of some foreign country the men had wandered into. Scantily clad dancers trotting down the streets, throwing beads, and candies, pressing kisses to passerbys men and women and cute little children's heads without a single malicious touch. Tugging a feather free here and there offering the silken yellow feathers to grabby little fingers.

He'd never expected he would have his face cupped with those baby soft hands, bright red lips pressing to his. When had the Sergeant wandered to the edge of the streets? But oh how those soft lips were so warm, tasted of hot chocolate for this brisk night. Hand trailing down, brushing his arm. His hand brushing a painted hip. Hazy eyes slowly blinking open, soft amber meeting dancing green. Part of him wanting to trail after the dancer in those tall heels, a hand on his belt keeping him from wandering off.

Another extra kiss, staining both cheeks and his nose and he was already a gonner. Watching that tanned beauty flitting off to join the flock of other plumed dancers. Glancing down to see the small yellow feather tucked through a link on his dog tags. A mumble and a nudge, gaze drifting to that beautifully full hip. Gold flowing up the arch and curve of the woman's hip. One single name. Surely the matching half on her other hip. 'Garrick'.

✨ ✨ 💖 I doubt there's a country like this but it just flowed so well 😭 💖✨✨

Good job finishing your homework 💖 so proud of you

SUCH A GOOD IDEA! I wanted to expand on this a bit so anything in italics is taken exactly from @lialucis' delicious ask.

Have I finished my homework? No. But I took a nap and had dinner and that deserves a reward.

Soulmate AU if you wanted to see more about Kyle's tattoo before reading this.

Mom (Laswell) and Dad (Price) were fighting again.

Kyle had gotten stopped at the airport on the tiny island. Of course he did. He stayed calm and provided all of his documentation requested. Price had called Laswell for an assist but she had been unable to clear the matter up before the next flight was ready to leave. This is why Cap claimed they never flew commersical anymore. He gave Kyle the card meant for expenses, a clap on the shoulder, and a warning that the accounting team would evicerate him if they had to track down his reciepts from an island that barely had internet.

Several hours later with only his overnight bag Kyle had been released and wandered into the nearby town to get situated overnight. Kate had messaged that he would be there for a few days while she confirmed the next flight off the island and booked him a seat.

Everywhere he looked on the cozy streets decorations were being put into place. The streets, freshly washed, complimented the banners and flags being tied into place from the balconies that overlooked the path. Children with their faces pressed to the bars waved at him with wide, toothy grins. Kyle waved back. The refreshingness of kids never ceased to amaze him.

Kyle secured a hotel room and passed out for a few hours. When he woke the sun had started to dip beyond the horizion and what had to be the full population of this side of the island flooding the streets. No one stood behind the counter when he made his way past the front desk.

Oh how the gold and feathers glistened, a party of some [kind he] had wandered into. Scantily clad dancers trotting down the streets, throwing beads, and candies, pressing kisses to passerby's men and women and cute little children's heads without a single malicious touch. Tugging a feather free here and there offering the silken yellow feathers to grabby little fingers.

Beautiful women wound through the crowd, adorned in feathers and straps and stitched pieces of fabric. He watched them flitting throug the people, smooth as birds in flight. One of them caught his eye again and again. Covered in yellow and a coy smile she shot up at him.

He'd never expected he would have his face cupped with those baby-soft hands, bright red lips pressing to his. When had the Sergeant wandered to the edge of the streets? But oh how those soft lips were so warm, tasted of hot chocolate for this brisk night. Hand trailing down, brushing his arm. His hand brushing a painted hip. Hazy eyes slowly blinking open, soft amber meeting dancing green. Part of him wanting to trail after the dancer in those tall heels, a hand on his belt keeping him from wandering off.

Another extra kiss, staining both cheeks and his nose and he was already a goner. Watching that tanned beauty flitting off to join the flock of other plumed dancers. Glancing down to see the small yellow feather tucked through a link on his dog tags. A mumble and a nudge, gaze drifting to that beautifully full hip [his had had rested on only a moment ago]. Gold flowing up the arch and curve of the woman's hip. One single name. Surely the matching half on her other hip. 'Garrick'.

He never froze in battle. Kyle prided himself on his unflappable responses. But now? He could have been at one of the poles for how well his body moved.

"Wait!"

Lunging forward the women surrounding his yellow bird scattered before pushing back in, speaking in their native tongue.

She shook her head at the questions. Glares of lightning and wrath coated him. He held up both hands, empty and fingers spread wide. Slowly he reached to move his sleeve. He had never understood the lettering on his arm, unable to find any matches any time he searched for them.

His sleeve didn't move up far enough, stopping at his mid-forearm but the flash of gold under the warm lighting brought her forward, the woman who wore his name.

Frustrated beyond words Kyle held up a single finger and pulled his shirt from his trousers. Once he could grip the base of the shirt he pulled it up and off of his body. Presenting his arm like a token from God he waited, breath trapped in his chest.

Whispers rose and fell around him. She stepped forward, brow crinkled. Kyle shivered under her finger as she traced what he prayed was her name.

"You stay tonight?" Her dark eyes trail up over his bare chest.

"Yes," he rasps.

"Good, you come and meet my mother."

And with that he knows he has found her, the soulmate he thought he might meet if he tromped across the globe.

Sheepishly, Kyle puts his shirt back on to the cheers of everyone around him. New music started up as everyone clapped them on the shoulders.

She takes his hand and pulls him further from the square. Kyle already knows he would follow her into the darkest cave for not more than a kiss.

Soulmate AU

Masterlist

A/N: I am having so much fun with these. Feel free to ask for more or different situations because damn this one made me grin.

[ssoulphrase]

00. The Curiosity of Haku Shota

Pairing: alien!soul x fem!reader

Genre: Slice of life, fluff

Warnings: mentions of bugs (´-`)

Word Count: 2,159

👾 - I decided to write a small piece as a filler for the actual fic I'm writing with this concept. I realized it was gonna take me longer than I wanted, so l'm writing this to get me motivated T^T I wanted my debut to be the longer fic but oh well :) This can be read as a stand alone as it doesn't add much to the main plot :) The main fic wil be linked once it's finished!

Sorry in advance if there's any mistakes,l wrote this kinda fast ( ´～｀)

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚

💿 - Aya Hirano, Super Driver !!

“Y/n! Come on! Wake up! Don’t waste your summer lying around all day! I wanna do stuff!!”

Ugh…

It’s been a couple of months since Soul crashed into your apartment, him first arriving at the time when you were still in classes. He’s become accustomed to your way of life quickly, seamlessly blending into what is human society. However, it's now summer, and he’s been begging every day to do something new, saying that it’s all for his ‘research.’ You laid on your carpeted floor, limbs sprawled out in a starfish shape as the cheap fan you bought at a market once was blasting at full speed, squeaking as it does its turns.

“What is it that you want to do Soul…?” The grogginess in your voice made it evident that you had no intention of getting up at any moment. However, Soul continued on, ignoring your groggy state.

“I want to go on a bike ride! Oh! And have a picnic! And draw with chalk! And maybe go star gazing at night!”

“That’s quite the list you’ve got there…” Although these were pretty mundane things to you, you couldn’t help but entertain Soul and his shenanigans, his excitement lifting a small smile upon your lips.

“I know! I thought about it all last night! It's stuff I've heard humans do during their free time.” A proud grin made itself onto his lips.

“Okay,” you chuckled fondly, “come help me make some sandwiches then.” It was just like Soul to drag you out of your apartment to do something. Just yesterday, the two of you had gone bug catching, Soul having the brilliant idea to make it a contest to see who could catch the most. It was no surprise to see that he had caught more than you by the end of it, boasting about having done his research on the most efficient way humans catch bugs. Of course, you didn’t let him keep any of the bugs he caught as you didn’t want any crawling around in your apartment. He dejectedly let the bugs go, seeing them fly out into the horizon. You couldn’t lie though, the scenery was beautiful (minus the flapping of the bugs…), the sun was starting to set just beyond the horizon and if it wasn’t for Soul, you would have spent this summer alone in your apartment.

“You, know they might return the favor one day, since you were so kind to let them go.” You glanced to your side, Soul was staring at the sunset in awe as all the little bugs he caught flew away.

“Return the favor?” He ripped his eyes from the sight in front of him to look at you in confusion. You couldn’t help but admire how ethereal he looked under the sun’s rays, his sun kissed skin and deep brown eyes reflected the sun’s true colors as the bit of breeze that picked up swept his hair, his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

“C’mon,” you chuckled, “Let’s go back home.”

Cut back to now, you lazily got up off your carpeted floor, already missing the fan’s cool breeze against your face

“What type of sandwiches are we making??” Soul excitedly followed behind you as you slowly made your way into your cramped kitchen.

“I guess whatever we find in the fridge…” Luckily, you did have the correct ingredients to make sandwiches, having bought the stuff a couple of weeks ago. You spent the next thirty minutes teaching Soul how to make a simple ham and cheese sandwich, not because of his lack of experience but because of your lack of ingredients (which he didn’t seem to mind), his excitement over making sandwiches made the chore a bit more bearable.

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

“C’mon! Hurry up! I wanna get to the park already!”

“I’m coming…” Soul had already reached the end of the steps, waiting beside your baby blue bike that you had gotten for your birthday. He had already placed the basket of food onto the bike’s built in basket, hands on his hips as he waited for you to ascend the stairs.

“You know, we’re gonna have to pass by the store to get the chalk you wanted, cuz I certainly don’t have any…” You finally reached the end of the stairs, Soul’s frown turning into a smile.

“I’ve got that settled already!”

There’s that proud smile again…

“What? How?”

“Your neighbor! I had mentioned it a while ago to her while you were out shopping, and she let me borrow some as long as we bring them back!” Soul boasted, you could only let out a sigh in response.

“So you had this all planned, huh? C’mon, get on the back of the bike.” Soul eagerly made his way on the back of your bike, holding onto your waist for security. The bike ride to the park was surprisingly peaceful. You half expected Soul to ask you about every little thing he saw on the way. Instead, he sat quietly behind you, squeezing you once in a while to hold on when the tighter turns came.

Soul honestly just liked being in your presence. He knew that asking you many questions tired you out, having once realizing that when your tone of voice turned into something less friendly by what seemed like his 500th question that day. Soul once again hugged you tighter, feeling only grateful for all you’ve done for him since he got there, a feeling he doesn’t experience often. Sure, he’s always experienced excitement ever since he arrived on Earth, especially when you comply to his wishes, however, sometimes he feels this inexplicable feeling in his chest whenever he’s close to you, almost as if he’s out of breath. He wonders if you’ve ever felt that before.

He might have to do some research on that later.

“Soul, we’re here.” Your voice broke through his thoughts as he eagerly jumped off your bike as you went to park it. While he was running off to who knows where, you looked for a good place under the shade to set the quilted picnic blanket you brought.

“Y/n! Come! What’s that vehicle over there???” You looked to what seemed to be an ice cream truck, you knew what he was going to ask once you told him, however, a good ice cream cone would be wonderful in this hot weather.

“It’s a truck that sells ice cream. You want some?” You weren’t surprised when he eagerly nodded his head yes, running over to stand behind all the other children who were begging their parents to get them ice cream.

“Do you know what flavor you want?” Once you caught up to him, you looked over the poster plastered onto the side of the truck, skimming through all the flavors they had.

“I’ll try what you have, I’m not particularly interested in any one of them. If I could, I'd try them all…”

Of course you would…

“Hmm, should we try the strawberry then?”

“Sure!”

The two of you had what seemed to be a feast for the both of you as you gobbled up every piece of food you had brought plus the ice cream, Soul seeming to be the one enjoying it the most. After the meal however, Soul ran off to chase some bugs again while you stayed seated in your spot on the blanket under the shade, having had enough of the ‘creepy crawlies’ since your small excursion the day before. Without noticing, an affectionate gaze landed upon your features as you looked over Soul who was carefully examining the grass beneath the (already) dirty sneakers you let him borrow. You couldn’t help but build a sense of endearment towards the alien that appeared in your apartment unannounced. It was only natural, right? You had spent several months together by now, Soul accompanying you through almost everything. You’d feel a little strange if he wasn’t there by your side bugging you about every ‘cool’ thing he saw. You wondered how you’d feel once his research period was over and he’d have to go back home.

“Y/n!”

There he goes calling my name again…

“Yes Soul?”

“Let’s go draw with the chalk!” He was already running off again, expecting you to be able to catch up to his speed. He led you towards the pavement pathway where previous chalk drawings were, some already being washed out due to age.

“What are you planning to draw?” Soul handed you a few chalk pieces before going a few squares away from you.

“It’s a secret!” You playfully rolled your eyes at his childlike nature, his nose scrunched as he turned away to scribble. You drifted your sight to the empty pavement square beneath you, sighing.

Guess I’ve gotta draw something…

Your artistic skills weren’t the best per se, but you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the cute but childlike drawing made out of the pastel chalk colors Soul had handed you. You were so engaged in your drawing, however, that you didn’t see or hear Soul walking behind you.

“That’s your drawing?” Soul’s soft but snarky voice came from behind you, eliciting another eye roll from you.

“Oh, come on! Show me yours then!” You stomped your way to his square on the pavement, a series of squiggles and lines as well as intricate shapes were drawn with the chalk.

“Uh, what’s that?”

“It’s the writing system we use in space! I was hoping that if I write it big enough, my friends and family up there will be able to see it!” He wore that proud grin once more, showing off his penmanship in his language.

“Oh! What does it say then?” You stepped closer to examine his work, intrigued by the intricate work that went into the writing.

“Um, just letting them know that I’m doing okay,” his right hand went to rub his chin in thought, “I wonder if I wrote it big enough though…”

“I’m sure they’ll see it,” you reassured him, “They’ll be happy to hear that you’re doing well.” You tried giving him a reassuring smile to ease the worry that was present on his face, his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought.

“You really think so? Okay then!” In the blink of an eye, his worrisome expression changed to his usual carefree smile that he carries.

That was fast…

“Y/n! Let’s go draw something together over there!” And once again, Soul was dragging you to another place to draw. You spent the rest of the afternoon drawing on the pavement with Soul, him claiming that this has to be the ‘best drawing to ever exist,’ meaning that he wanted to put in the extra time to perfect it as much as possible. What he wanted to execute though, was a ‘family portrait’ of you and him so that his family and friends in space would be able to see what he was up to. And as always, you obliged to his demands, putting in the extra elbow grease to draw it as he imagined it. As a finishing touch, Soul added the orange, tabby cat that hung out on your balcony at random times, Soul claiming that they’re best friends.

“Perfect! We’re done!” Soul looked over the drawing with pride, the sun had already set and the stars were starting to twinkle brightly.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Oh definitely!” he nodded eagerly “And we finished just in time to go stargazing!” Before you could say anything, Soul grabbed your hand to lead you to the picnic blanket under the tree, this time, a bit more calmer.

“Why’d you wanna stargaze anyway? I thought you lived amongst the stars based on what you’ve told me.” You sat down one last time on the blanket right next to him, Soul immediately laying his head right on your lap, your hand came up to rest on his multicolored hair.

“I wanted to see the stars with you.” The phrase touched you more than you thought it would, the meaning behind his words bringing a certain heavy feeling on your chest almost bringing you to tears.

“I promise I’ll keep in touch with you once my research period on Earth is over. You better keep in touch too!” You couldn’t see it, however you could almost sense that carefree grin he always carries forming on his face.

“Okay, I promise I’ll keep in touch too.”

I wouldn’t want to forget you…

👾 - bleep blorp zeep zorp

[sicklyworm]

Hi yes I would like to hear your thoughts on Shang Qinghua and his characterization (both in canon and in fanfic). I've always really enjoyed the fics with the like,, BAMF!Shang Qinghua tag, but i also can't decide if his cowardice is an act or not, if that makes sense? Or if it's a bit of both.

Oh my gosh thank you for this ask. Please forgive me anon for the absolute rant that's about to happen because of it!!!

I'm going to break down this ask into chunks so properly and thoroughly answer every part of it!

Starting with,

SQH's cannon characterization:

I spent several hours trying to type out a good yet manageable description of his characterization but I found that no matter how hard I try it's a bit too long for a reasonable Tumblr post.

So instead of just ditching this like a normal person I instead started on a essay going over Shang Qinghua's characterization with quotes and analysis!

At the moment of posting it is not currently completed but I'll make sure to reblog this post with the link to the document once it's done!

Now moving on to,

SQH's characterization in fanfiction:

I'm an avid fanfiction reader myself so I see a plethora of different authors writing different arcs for SQH so obviously he's going to act differently in each one.

The thing I think makes or breaks alot of fanfiction with him is whether the author can properly distinguish between their voice and his. As a highly relatable character a lot of us writers can have a pretty hard time distinguishing him as a character from ourselves! When this happens writers can accidentally take bits and pieces of themselves that don't quite match up with him and kind of force them into the characterization of him!

There's also like the cases of hyperfeminization or character bashing but I feel like those are more of a generalized problem then something SQH specific.

Next is,

Is SQH actually a coward or was it just an act?

This question was one I wrestled with quite a bit when I was first starting to dissect his character.

He plays dead and grovels easily when he feels threatened yet displays tremendous courage when it has to do with MBJ. Whether it be saving MBJ from falling to his death or from MBJ'S own uncle, he is necessarily putting himself in danger just for the safety of someone else.

These behaviors by definition conflict with SQH being a coward but It still feels incomplete to just say "he's not a coward case closed." Because he does act incredibly pathetically at times and has betrayed quite a few people!

So after a bit more deliberation I came to the conclusion that "his coward status is determined by his personal connection towards the subject"

If the subject is not close to him or his heart then it is completely subjected to all of SQHs shady and cowardly tendencies. Even if the subject is kinda close to him I believe these cowardly behaviors will definitely cut back some but under enough threat he will ultimately choose his own personal safety.

But in the case he has a deep emotional connection to the subject he seems willing to show tremendous courage and bravery in order to protect said subject.

Example of this playing out in cannon is:

The Sect - low emotional attachment = full rat bastard mode.

Shen Yuan - mid emotional attachment = normal level of courage but will cave under pressure.

Mobei-jun - high motional attachment = huge levels of courage that won't cave under pressure.

✧✧✧

Extra:

My ADHD was going off the rails with this post so I have no idea how coherent it is.

Anyways i am also a big fan of the BAMF!SQH tag and would love if you dropped off some recommendations in my ask box!