#my self deprecation tells me sharing is annoying cause no one actually gives a fuck but being vague is probably worse

[no1ryomafan]

I love how compared to other introverts or just socially awkward people I actually have adapted enough I can talk to anyone regardless if I think I’ll like them or not and I’m genuinely good about reaching out to people yet the one big thing I struggle with is actually telling people about myself because I’m not joking too many fucking interactions I have can be describe as “oh I like niche things (refuses to elaborate)” and the saddest part is this is not a irl thing this also applies to 1 on 1 online dms💀

[ironmandeficiency]

I saw y'all discussing potential zodiac signs for Pascal's characters, what's your take on the major ones? I personally believe Marcus Pike is a cancer, Catfish's a pisces, Din's a virgo, Whiskey's an aries, Oberyn's either a leo or a libra, Ezra's a gemini or a sag, but I lean towards gemini. Javier's the poster child for Scorpio. Don't know about Maxwell Lord.

pedro character star signs

i’m so sorry it took so long, i was tweaking this so much bc i wanted to make sure i got it right! these are just what i think based on my astrology opinions, i hope you like it! 💕 i added their moon signs for flair bc i can. gonna tag a few friends i think may be interested, hope it’s not an inconvenience

max phillips: aries sun & moon. his ambition and charisma paired with the carefree attitude and optimism are an optimum fire sign duality and despite the fact i shouldn't, i love it so much. he has an inner child that he spoils with the riches of his conquests (good and bad) & gets emotional contentment when he succeeds in achieving his goals. knows what he wants & is quick to make those wants known. you never have to worry about where you stand with him because he will not hesitate to tell you.

javier peña: taurus sun with scorpio moon (the real guy is a taurus & i can see it but w heavy scorpio influence). he has his own structure and routine and will fight to the death to maintain it. very work oriented & does his best to rationalize his emotion-driven scorpio moon with his taurean logic, it's a tossup as to whether it works half the time. has a lot of emotional needs that aren't always met day to day & thats why he smokes and drinks and fucks. but don’t let anything make you doubt his love for you because the only thing stronger than his stubborn streak is his heart and its capacity to love you so damn much.

maxwell lord: libra sun with a sagittarius moon. the charisma? attractive and engaging af. oddly adept at chameleoning himself into whatever social group he's trying to vibe with. will draw eyes no matter what because so many people know him & if they don't already, they sure as hell want to. it takes him a while to learn to balance healthy relationships and his work life but when he does, you can visibly see how much healthier he is because of it. normally tends to his emotions in private but with help, he can start sharing a bit more. more optimistic than he sometimes should be but it could be worse

frankie morales: pisces sun with a cancer moon. his caring and sometimes cautious nature (with a twinge of homicidal tendencies) make him one that you don't just casually fuck with sexually or otherwise. catches feelings very easy & makes a lot of emotionally-driven decisions. these two water signs have a propensity towards codependence & defensiveness when hurt. is at his best when he feels loved and is supported by those he loves. emotions are always fluctuating and there’s some trouble with self-discipline (which is not the same as self-deprecation). because of this, he needs someone who can ground him

jack "whiskey" daniels: his swagger!! his charm!! his generosity!! the protectiveness over people he cares about!! this has the makings of a leo sun. this charismatic sun sign paired with his capricorn moon create a living example of the most balanced "work hard, play hard" you've ever seen. has a tendency to set high standards for himself and others & is a smidge more accepting when people fuck up, wanting to help them be better in the future. his emotions are often repressed in the name of responsibility but when he feels safe, he isn’t shy about them in the slightest. very confident in his skills & one of those that he’s the proudest of is his ability to cheer you up when you’re sad

din djarin: he is the most virgo virgo to ever virgo, a double whammy of it in both his sun & moon placements. very logical, disciplined, and tradition-oriented. knows how to bargain and budget, approaches problems with as little emotional attachment as he can (doesn't always work though), and is selfless af. needs something to keep him from being a worry wart bc otherwise he will spend every waking moment fretting over anything he can find. remarkably well-rounded & somehow the most emotionally stable

ezra: everything about this man radiates aquarius sun + gemini moon and you will never convinve me otherwise. he's just enough of an intellectual elitist (the big words and flowy shakespearian vocabulary) for it to border on unique and fun & annoying as fuck. every aquarian i've met has a quirk that sets them apart from everyone else & ezra's quirk (besides murder) is his vocabulary. it takes him a long time to learn to not talk over people on accident (sometimes he does on purpose just to be a bastard), but you can tell when he’s really trying to be conscious of it.

marcus moreno: now this man is what you call a pisces. a softie with a heart of gold that is constantly being underestimated, he has more power than most think. his silly and carefree nature detracts from the badassery he's capable of so it sometimes catches you off guard when he goes into Badass In Charge™️ mode but it’s there. his moon is also in pisces, which adds to his gentility and desire to be understood by his partner. this man just needs some love dammit, give it to him already!! his empathy makes him the Cool Dad™️ bc missy and literally any other kid get the vibe of “yeah this adult will actually listen to me and value my opinions”

dave: capricorn sun, aries moon. he thrives with people who can handle their own shit competency kink anyone? and doesn’t have patience with those who should know better. his standards are higher than a stoned giraffe, and is at his best in controlled environments. has a strong sense of self & a short list of people he would risk it all for. not as outwardly expressive but he does have a couple cues that you learn over time. also knows what he wants and is very meticulous in how he goes about getting it; there are very few places where he takes no for an answer. is a very good provider but don’t expect him to be mushy when you thank him for things he does for you.

oberyn martell: gemini sun & leo moon. he’s got more charisma than can fit in the ocean and sometimes it gets him into trouble. this man thrives on validation from loved ones. there is never a worry about not knowing what he’s feeling because oh boy is this man expressive. he’s a protector and a provider (and a gossip but don’t let him hear you say that). can and will cause a scene if there’s ample opportunity, he enjoys watching shit go down. will only interfere if it directly impacts him or someone he really cares about but otherwise will just pop the popcorn and pull up a seat. somehow has all the details of everything that ever happens but you learn to not question it.

pero tovar: scorpio sun (but specifically october scorpio) & aquarius moon. he’s highly rational when it comes to emotions but does have a temper. he’s observant af of his environment & the emotions of everyone around him, and chooses his actions carefully based on those. doesn’t confront his deeper emotions as often as he should bc it’s easier to default to Angy™️ and let the rest of the world come to their own assumptions. has no tolerance for lies and other bs, wants the truth and though it makes him seem power-hungry and manipulative, that’s not his intention. it’s just his way of looking for someone he can trust with the most intimate parts of him

marcus pike: this man? taurus sun, cancer moon. has a fear of abandonment that takes a while to quell but once it’s gone, he’s all in. he’s very empathetic and observant af, will know exactly what you need before you voice said need. will feel guilty for his baggage sometimes and the guilt will make him recluse for a short period until he’s reminded just how appreciated he is. does not play around when it comes to affection & is very eager to give and receive it whenever possible

my friends that i think might be interested: @scribbledghost @autumnleaves1991-blog @dyke--grayson @max--phillips @dindjarindiaries @pikemoreno @ohnopoe @pedropasscals @forever-rogue @engineeredfiction @bitchin-beskar

[obeiii-mee]

How will the bros react to MC self-doubting themselves? Like saying bad things about them or can't be serious someone give them compliment.

Supportive demon bois coming right up! Sorry I took so long to write this anon! Thank you so much for the ask! (Also, thank you all for the love on my previous posts!)

————————————

The Brothers with an MC who self doubts themselves:

Lucifer:

-As the embodiment of pride itself, Lucifer has an overwhelming amount of confidence, almost all the damn time

-So, he was flabbergasted to learn that you weren’t the same

-He always insisted that you aren’t anything but perfect, yet you always seemed to brush the compliments off with a shrug and an awkward smile

-Well, shit, we can’t have that

-Lucifer just got 10x more serious about the matter

-He pulls a really stupid concerned face whenever you insult yourself and he looks more and more like a 48 year old man/dad each time it happens

-He, as of late, increased the number of pet names he has for you and the amount of compliments he gives you each day

-He refuses to let you talk badly about yourself anywhere, at any point in time and encourages every little step you take towards bettering yourself like crazy

- Lucifer wants to prove to you that you are an absolute ray of sunshine and he will go to any lengths to do just that (do not ask)

-He’s even more affectionate than usual which confuses just about everyone in the House of Lamentation, yourself included

-His brothers are feeling a disturbance in the force and they don’t know how to feel about it

-You are possibly the best thing that’s happened to him since he fell as angel and Lucifer is ready to do whatever he can to help you realise that

Mammon:

-“You’re an idiot!”

-“*Sigh*, I know.”

-“Wha-Wait! Y-you can’t say thAT!”

-The Great Mammon is seriously worried about his human

-Being the dense motherfucker he is (i still love him tho) it took him weeks to realise you’re not all that confident in yourself

-At some point in your relationship, he jokingly called you annoying and you just went “Yeah I’ve been told. Sorry.”

-His jaw literally dropped and he almost cried

-He would have choked if he was drinking something

-Tsundere Mammon has gone bye bye and here comes the cuddling teddy bear that is your boyfriend

-He also doesn’t have as much self love for himself as he sometimes pretends to have so he’s kinda in the same boat

-Which means your boat is leaking and you’re perfectly fine with it while he’s panicking and trying to throw water overboard with his hands

-His brothers call him an idiot a lot but he’s a very sociable guy with people skills that he uses all the time in order to coax you out of your self pitiying shell

-Will whine every time you call yourself ‘useless’ or disagree with his compliments because what the hell, you’re literally the most gorgeous being ever let me love youuuu

-When it comes to you and your happiness, he ain’t fucking around. He will snarl at anyone that even looks at you in the wrong way

-Did that to Lucifer once, guess a what happened

-You’ve definitely helped him come to terms with the fact that he is loveable and not a good for nothing scum

-So now it’s your turn!

-Let him kiss your insecurities away please

-Your presence makes him feel wanted so he wants the same for you!

Levi:

-Well then

-It takes two to tango ya know?

-He is the KING of self loathing and no confidence whatsoever in anything he does so every time you put yourself down, he counters it with a self deprecating insult as well

-“I suck.”

-“Nah, you’re pretty awesome normie. I’m the shut in, disgusting otaku who can barely set foot outside his bedroom without having an anxiety attack.”

-It’s like you’re trying to outdo the other on who is worse

-Truth is, he really admires you, especially knowing you chose to date him; an anime nerd with no social life and no communication skills whatsoever

-It hurts a bit, every time he builds up the courage to actually compliment you and you not taking it seriously

-That’s because he recognises that he’s the same and just as harsh on himself as you are

-Levi knows self hatred is something that takes time to demolish

-But you are his Henry after all (also his partner but whatevs)

-He’s not gonna leave you hanging when you need him the most

-He also gradually stops calling you a normie as your relationship progresses, though it still slips through every now and again

-Basically, the first time he realised that you think negatively of yourself, his immediate reaction was: Haha lmao relatable

-But now, every time it happens, he gets all serious

-Puts his controller down and everything, it’s like witnessing a very rare phenomenon and it’s creepy as shit

-He’s also made an effort to be more physically affection though he is kinda shy about it because damn it he just wants to hug you every time you speak badly of yourself

-Probably writes a list at some point stating all the reasons why you are better than him and Ruri chan combined, it’s rlly sweet

Satan:

-He’s a bit curious as to where that mentality has come from

-What triggered you to be so self doubtful?

-He’s basically your psychotherapist and asks you a lot of questions trying to find different causes and solutions for your issues

-Honestly, he puts so much effort into trying to understand, reading books about it from the human realm and whatever he can find in order to help you

-He scrunches up his nose every time you call yourself an idiot or anything of the sort

-Satan knows that insisting you’re wonderful won’t exactly help you overcome this problem of yours

-But that doesn’t stop him from doing it

-It’s not like you can ignore his comments because he will keep complimenting you until you accept them

-He also repeats a lot of pick up lines but that’s just part of being his partner

-What do you mean you’re worthless?!! He would literally give away all of his books and his hatred for Lucifer in exchange for your well being!

-Satan is possibly the smartest out of all of his brothers, so he uses a tactical approach on this one

-Direct affectionate gestures don’t work on you so he’s gonna be more subtle

-Would slightly hint that you are amazing every time you do something for him, like fetching him a book or something

-“Ah thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you love.”

-He’s a lot smoother than he gives himself credit for

-He just appreciates your existence and that there’s someone out there that he doesn’t need to be act hostile or fake toward

-Satan is ready to sit down and listen to you talk about your insecurities for hours on end

-You would quietly say something bad about yourself and he would run through the House of Lamentation before bursting into the room you are in, shouting ‘No! That’s wrong!’ (going Danganronpa on your asses)

-“Welp, I fucked up again. I can’t do anything right.”

-And then, in the distance you hear boss music starting

Asmo:

-*Shocked Gasp*

-How could you say such things about yourself???? Is that even leGAl?

-Of course, the literally prince of Lust, with all of his narcissism, has never experienced things like ‘self doubt’ of ‘bad self esteem’

-Pfft, the fuck is that?

-He only uses the most positive of words when he describes himself

-So obviously he almost falls off the bed when he hears you insulting yourself for the first time

-But ya know, that would leave bruises on his beautiful skin

-“Oh darling, you’re not annoying or a moron! You’re not anything like Mammon!”

-That was a below belt fatal hit, press f in the chat for the second eldest

-At some point, he just genuinely believes you’ve been spending too much time with Levi and that his negativity started rubbing off on you

-But then you tell him you’ve always been like this and he almost has a crisIS

-He’s like ‘Haha, no, we’re going to get a spa day out tomorrow and a few shopping sprees so I can prove to you that you are magnificent in every way imaginable.’

-Asmo loves pampering you in general but on the days he sees you feeling extra sorry for yourself, he goes above and beyond

-Gets very hurt when you brush off his compliments because he just wants you to accept the fact that you’re beautiful

-He’s like a supportive mom lmao, whenever you’re feeling self doubtful, he goes “You’re doing great sweetie, keep it up I’m really proud of you.”

-It’s up to you to decide whether that helps or not

-He’s such a sweetheart in reality, it’s hard to remember that he’s supposed to be horny all the time

-Well he is but that’s not the point, you’re way more important

-Asmo is so much fun to write cuz I can make him so dramatic it’s hilarious

Beel:

-Oh no :(

-He gets very sad everytime you self deprecate yourself

-You can’t do it with him in the room because he’s going to start crying and give you this kicked puppy stare, it will break your heart

-Beel kinda comes over and goes “If I give you some of my food will you please stop saying bad things about yourself? Because it’s not true.”

-Well you can’t say no to that face

-He feels like it’s his fault you’re this self doubtful even though you’ve tried to explain to him you’ve always been like this

-He goes crying to his twin half the time because he doesn’t know what to do

-“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to drop it! Fucking hell, I’m such a fucking klutz.”

-“Sniffle no you’re not.”

-He’s like, giving you large portions of his food now

-Because food makes him happy so he wants you to be happy too

-🙂

-His brothers go in shock every time because the only other person Beel has ever shared his food with before was Belphie

-Physical affection goes through the roof with this guy

-Bone crushing hugs btw

-Your self worth is so immeasurable with him, you can’t even measure it

-W h o a

-I’m being serious, don’t talk badly about yourself in front of him unless you want to be hugged into next week

-You are a literal angel in his eyes, of course he thinks highly of you

-He’s just hoping his presence isn’t making your self esteem worse, that’s the thing that keeps him up at night

-Idk why but he does think that he is a bad influence on your mental well being since he’s a demon

-Beel gives you compliments all the time and it confuses him when you laugh them off uncertainly because he wasn’t joking or lying??

-He’s always supportive of your choices and encourages you to be more confident

-The same way you show your support everytime you come to his games to cheer him on

-Overall, he just wants you to feel special and appreciated

-Because you deserve it

-IneedmyselfaBeel

Belphie:

-He feels like absolute shit

-Becuase he’s well aware he‘s called you a few...not so nice words in the past

-Back then, he only thought he meant everything he said but now that he’s hearing you accept his insults and actually repeating them yourself?

-It hurts his brain and he wants to smash his head against all four walls of the room for being such a cretin

-You do tell him it’s not exactly his fault you think so badly of yourself

-But he still believes he fueled it

-So now he needs to fix it

-He’s tried everything and I mean everything

-It’s kinda working, slow progress is made which he’s really happy about but you know, it’s gonna take a while

-He finally settles on physical affection as the best way to communicate his gratefulness for you being youself

-Oh, he wasn’t hugging you before? He is now, get your ass next to him and let him cuddle you

-Handholding has increased by 69% in the last month, sorry for the loss of your right hand with how much he squeezes it

-Sometimes, he can’t help but a throw an insult at you in a playful manner, because he’s an asshole

-But he always makes sure you understand that he was just joking

-He’s such a little shit, you would be having a chat with him and you would subtly drop a insult at yourself hoping he wouldn’t notice

-But then he stops dead in his tracks, kisses you, says “Shut up, you’re stunning” and then he goes right back to the previous conversation like nothing happened

-Accept his compliments damn it otherwise he will continue to bug you about it for the rest of the day

-He’s an eboy and he’s a dickhead a times, but he just goes soft for you tbh

-If you’re feeling really bad about yourself, he won’t even say anything

-He will just big spoon you for the next 24 hours, good luck going to the bathroom or any meals during that time

-Because once you’re in his grip, you’re not getting out that easily

-He gets so pissy if anyone says something even slightly negative about you to your face

-One time, a random demon called you stupid in one of the classes at RAD and he was like ‘bïtch excuse me what?’

-Snapped his head around at him and everything

-He would have done something worse but he was lazy and feeling really petty

-So Belphie kicked him in the privates from under his desk like a damn spoiled brat

-And then he turned his head back to you, all smiles and rainbows and puppies

-I’m simping so hard for a fictional character wtf

-I had to write more protective Belphie cuz I can’t find anything of the sort anymore and I need flUFF

(Haha, I don’t know what this post is, my writing has officially taken a shit lmao. Sorry this took so long to finish, I kept going back to edit all of them)

Al~

[c-is-for-circinate]

Man, I liked this episode.

Such great character moments!  Really exciting lore.  Plans for the future!  That ending, though!  Yay!

In no particular order, some moments I really appreciated:

Literally everything at the tavern, oh MAN.  Every single one of those conversations was SO GOOD, you know what I actually need to break this down further:

CADUCEUS AND YASHA, holy cow, right?  (it is late enough at night that ‘holy cow’ is doubly amusing, because Caduceus is, in fact, actually a...anyway, never mind.)  But HER HAIR!!!  Caduceus trying to be supportive, trying to Give Advice (Caduceus always thinks it’s his job to Give Advice, but usually it helps), but also falling just enough into actually admitting some of his own feelings.  Hope and worry.  I love them so much.

Beau and Caleb admitting/reminiscing about the early days when they didn’t like each other at all (except that even then, even when Caleb was being driven up a wall and Beau was angry and annoyed and kind of hated the guy, even then, they always liked each other at least a little bit, they never would’ve gotten so angry otherwise).  You know, sometimes it fades away for a while, but every so often I remember just how much I love Beau and Caleb as friends, because it is such a complicated, layered, hard-won friendship.  They both worked so hard for this relationship!  We call them the empire siblings, and it’s true, sometimes, but also it’s not true at all, because they worked so hard to get here, without any blood or parents or shared childhood joys telling them they should.  They built this friendship all on their own.  (And how often do you see such utterly platonic male-female friendships that are this hard-won and this concrete, in fiction?)

Okay I admit it, I made a NOISE at the unicorn thing.  It was just so utterly sweet, so deliberately ‘I know this little thing will make the person I care about smile,’ with no pretense or requirements after that, just because.  It felt like a little bit of Travis and Laura bleeding through, not in an out-of-character way, but in this bright reflection of all the little moments we’ve seen them just be honestly in love on screen.  It reminds me of the time Travis ordered an entire box of doughnuts via PostMates mid-episode delivered to the studio and didn’t say anything until they showed up.  And yes, obviously Travis and Laura’s characters can do and romance whoever they want--but if the honest emotion is there, it’s there, and it’s adorable.

Likewise: Beau and Jester both giggling and a little bit giddy about their respective potential love interests, both genuinely happy for each other.  Is there a sense of loss there?  Maybe, maybe not, who knows--but that mutual happiness is so genuine, and the “Agh, you know I’m scared of my future!” is so real in every direction, I love it.   

All of the shopping this episode made me really happy.  There’s something really special about a party hitting the level where they no longer have to care about money, and get to run kid-in-a-candy-store wild.  Buy ALL the diamonds!  Buy every piece of wizard-grade paper in Nicodranas.  Buy an entire wheelbarrow of fireworks, why not, just fucking do it, we’ve got the cash.  (Side note: as someone from Illinois, ‘going to Indiana to buy fireworks’ is such a familiar and obvious thing to me that I had a whole disorientation moment of ‘wait, Marisha isn’t from--oh my god people do that from the other side of Indiana too?’  I had not realized Indiana was such a national hub for fireworks, although I probably should have, given Indiana.)  Seriously though, the M9 do not care about money-- ‘here, take some of mine to pay for that thing, I’ve got so much I won’t use, just get it, it’s fine.’  But they get so much joy out of buying hundreds of gold worth of joke shop supplies, it’s so delightful, the entire two-city shopping trip was so delightful and I love them all.   

I covered all of my ‘oh man Beau’s imposter syndrome and self-esteem issues’ feelings in an earlier post, but I’m just going to reiterate: fuck, my feelings.   

I love the Eiselcross hook, and I cannot wait for what they find up there.  For one thing, I love me a good fictional deicide.  (I have some THOUGHTS about any potential god-killing weapons, and their potential uses against, say, life-devouring cities or angry sea serpents with a more than conventional number of eyes.  Also man that would’ve been useful for Vox Machina circa their own episode 109 or so.)  I am deeply curious to see what traveling with Vess de Rogna will be like--especially knowing that she was one of the people dealing with Yeza, and now I’m thinking about the fact that Veth was the only person NOT there to meet her today, which, hmmmmm.  I want to see so many things up there.  

There’s an almost-unfamiliar increasing seriousness and maturity to the Mighty Nein lately, and it’s so fascinating to me to watch.  They named their ship the Nein Heroes.  After the Mistake and the Ball-Eater, they went with a name that, beyond just not being a self-deprecating pun, almost sounds like they’re proud of themselves.  And yes, tonight they bought out an entire joke shop’s worth of magical novelties--but they also Sending’ed ahead to two teleportation circles in a row.  Yes, Jester set off a magical stink bomb in a tavern at lunch--but there were multiple healthy and emotionally honest conversations going on during that scene, too.  They thought ahead about their clothes.  They’re not just respected at the Cobalt Soul, they’re respectable. At first glance it just seems like they’ve learned to plan ahead, but it’s not that, or it’s not just that.  Rather, the M9 are doing things, sending messages, picking names, changing clothes, that affect the way they present themselves to others.  They’re not playing games of respectability politics, it’s not like they’re deliberately trying to convince other people that they’re any better than they are--but I wonder if, maybe, they’re doing just a little bit less self-sabotaging in the opposite direction.  If maybe they’re starting to suspect that they can be respected, and it’s not just a lost cause from the beginning. I really want to see where this goes in the coming weeks, whether they go back to chaos crew fuck-it again or this continues to build.  I’ll be curious to see where (and for whom!) it seems to apply, and where it slips.

[onebatch2batch]

24 or 43 for kastle from the 50 prompts thingy??

43. “Are you drunk?” [ao3]

I got a little carried away....not sorry. Thank you for the prompt!!

--

The sun has long since set by the time Karen manages to shoulder her way into her apartment building, annoyed. It’s been a long and difficult week, and she had been so excited to get home to her pajamas, wine, and fuzzy socks. In fact she’d been almost out of her office before realizing that her cabinets at home are completely empty. She’s been so busy at work that grocery shopping has been on the back burner, and she knew that if she’d just gone straight home after work she would have ordered in food all weekend. Her budget would never allow for that--and so she’d stopped at the little bodega on the way home and bought what she needed. All in all it had amounted to about four bags and a bottle of wine tucked safely away in her purse. She’d walked the five blocks home with aching hands and aching feet, dreaming of her quiet apartment. Maybe I’ll take a bath, she thinks as she shoots the broken elevator a sour look, or maybe I’ll just lay in bed and watch Netflix. Or try to work through one of my cold cases. Or read. Oh, maybe I’ll read in the bath.

She does none of those things. Karen reaches her floor, turns the corner, and her heart stutters.

There’s someone at her door. He’s got his back to her, so she can’t make out much, but he’s in dark clothes and his hood is up. He’s got his forehead pressed to her door. Part of her hopes he’s just drunk and thinks he’s somewhere else. The more logical part says that she definitely recognizes those combat boots even from behind.

“Frank?”

He jerks, then turns to give her a wide, loose smile. “Hey, Kar’n.”

She stares. Blinks. Stares some more. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh.” He shifts, nearly trips on a frayed part of the hallway carpet, catches himself last minute. “Can we talk inside?”

There goes my quiet evening.

As happy as she is to see Frank Castle alive and well, she knows not to expect more than a friendly social call. Karen passes him a handful of groceries and digs out her keys, letting them both into her warm apartment. Frank slides the lock in place behind her as she moves towards the kitchen, kicking off her heels with an embarrassingly happy groan. “Is this a coffee conversation, or something strong?” she asks over her shoulder.

Frank carefully maneuvers the handful of bags onto her counter and focuses on removing everything for her to put away. “You worried ‘bout me bein’ here?”

That’s a loaded question. She raises a brow. “Frank, you never visit recreationally. What’s going on? Are you on the run again? Need some info on someone?” If they have to have this conversation, she’d rather get the niceties out of the way and get back to her weekend.

“Nope. None of that.”  He smiles again, nearly drops an apple, and then something clicks.

“Wait a minute,” she gasps, amazed. “Are you drunk?”

His answering grin is enough. Karen laughs incredulously, some of the tension knotted in her spine loosening. As soon as she’d seen him she had assumed that he needed something, or needed her help. Not that he was paying a visit on the way home from a bar.

“I didn’t even think you drank,” she huffs, amused. She quickly puts away her groceries and then pours a glass of wine for herself.

“I don’t usually,” he admits, leaning against the counter. Now that she knows what she’s looking for, there’s a warm flush on his cheeks and a looseness to his limbs that’s different from his normal, tense posture. “It’s Curt’s birthday, we had a couple after group.”

She’s glad to hear he’s still going to that group. They settle on the couch and exchange small talk about how it’s going and how Curtis is until curiosity gets the better of her. “So why are you actually here, Frank?”

He looks caught. She’s interested to see that his usually expressive face is much more so when inebriated. Every flicker of his eye and clench of his jaw gives away what he’s thinking. It’s like reading a book on how dodgy a vigilante can look. “Well, I wanted to see you.”

It's such a line, and coming from anyone form him she would have rolled her eyes. As it stands, the idea of The Punisher making a booty call because he’s had a bit too much to drink makes her laugh. She catches the hurt look on his face before he can hide it.

“What?”

“Oh no, Frank, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I’m glad you’re here.” She reaches over to squeeze his arm reassuringly, which seems to mollify him slightly.

“What’s funny, then?”

“Just the thought of The Punisher making a booty call.” Karen laughs again, unable to help herself. Frank is the most intense person she’s ever met, and she would certainly know if that was his plan. She doesn’t think he would be able to hide it if it were. She looks at him, inviting him to share in the hilarity of the idea, but he’s not laughing. Not even a little. In fact, his face flashes red and he clears his throat, looking away.

“Hang on,” Karen says slowly, laugh dying in her throat. “Is that what this is?”

“No,” Frank says quickly. “No, of course not.”

He’s lying. It’s the first time he’s ever lied to her. Karen’s mouth drops open. She stares at him, waiting for him to crack a smile or announce that he’s messing with her, but he just stares out the window and clenches his jaw. When she realizes he’s not planning on explaining, she takes two large gulps of wine and sets down her glass.

“Really? Because it kind of seems like I hit the nail on the head there.”

He’s already shaking his head emphatically. “No, Karen, Christ, I just, I--I wanted to see you, that’s all--”

This could go so many different ways, she’s not sure which option to explore first. She could let him off the hook and feign ignorance, maybe talk for another hour and then send him on his way. Or she could demand he tell her what he wants. Or she could mercilessly tease him--who can say they’re able to tease The Punisher and get away with it? And anyways, he’s gotten her into plenty of life-threatening situations (even if he usually saves her from them later) so joking around to get back at him is too good to pass up.

“Is there something off putting about me, then?” She raises a brow, having only a hair too much fun. “Because now you’re being a little too defensive for my tastes.”

“Oh Jesus, Karen--”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying, we’re both single and know each other and if that’s what this is, then you just have to say it--”

He’s starting to look panicked. “No it’s--”

“Come on, Frank, just admit it. You came here for a booty call--”

“Hey, no--”

“Because you’re drunk and have some excess energy--”

“It’s not because I’m drunk.”

The game is over. Frank is looking at her with a particularly focused expression that steals the air from her lungs. He leans forward, in her space, stopping just short of her lips. “If you think,” he rasps, and now it’s Karen’s turn to flush at his proximity, “for a second that I would come here just to sleep with you like it’s not something I’ve thought about constantly for two years, like I would just ruin this for one night--along with you and your fucking stubbornness and your smile and how you look in those fucking--...skirts--...” he takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes briefly, and then snaps them open to give her a loaded look, “--then you’re fuckin’ crazy, Karen.”

And then he sits back, and looks away.

She’s sure she looks like a complete idiot, but Karen can’t wipe the shock off her face. After a few moments where it feels like her heart literally stops beating, it reanimates with a pounding she can feel between her legs. Her throat is suddenly too dry, and she swallows hard. Her mind races to get them back on solid footing, but her mouth has other ideas. “So you’ve thought about us having sex?” is the first astonished thing to escape her lips.

“No,” Frank sighs patiently, but like she’s deliberately being obtuse. It’s such a funny, cute little sound that she’s never heard from him before, and it’s doing nothing for the desire that’s coursing through her. “I think about us in every way. Having sex, sure. But watchin’ tv together. Gettin’ a dog. Goin’ grocery shopping. Shit, just gettin’ up and having coffee in the morning. Just...I just think about us.”

It’s such a momentous confession that Karen feels inadequate to handle. Ever since she pleaded with him in the hospital, begging for him to leave the fight behind for her, she has filed away her feelings. After such a staunch dismissal of her feelings, she was sure he wasn’t interested in her other than as an informant and maybe, just sometimes, a friend. Now with his (albeit drunk)  confession, she knows otherwise. She still doesn’t know what self-sacrificing, self-deprecating bullshit caused him to turn her down before, but that’s a discussion for another time. Right now, she wants to drag him towards her and kiss him senseless. She wants to smack him for waiting so long to say something. She wants to cry with relief. She wants to make him feel validated and loved. She wants to prove to the world that Frank Castle is a good man who has been dealt a shitty hand, even if she has to scream it from theEmpire State Building. “Frank,” she chokes out, “you should have said.”

He tenses, looking at her wearily. “Am I too late?”

She doesn’t answer with words. She’s too busy closing the gap between him and burying her face in his neck. He smells familiar, like sandalwood and vanilla, reminding her of a different day in her apartment. She’d hugged him for much longer than appropriate and he hadn’t pulled away. She thought maybe it had been a sorry and thank you all at once. And then he’d left again, and it had nearly broken her in two. “Never,” she vows into his skin, painting a promise with her lips.

She hears his ragged exhale, and then he’s drawing her up towards him. His kiss is soft, just a brush of lips against hers before he presses another to her cheek, her forehead, her chin. When he returns once more to capture her lips, Karen lets her hands wander the wide expanse of his chest, lets herself revel in the firmness of his body against her. Touching him like this is such a foreign feeling, but like she’s finally found the missing piece to a long started puzzle. His hands are just as eager, running along her spine and then resting on her hips before his strong fingers sink into her hair, the others pressing firmly on her lower back so that he can grind up against her. Karen gasps and Frank takes advantage of her parted lips, deepening the kiss, his tongue curling against her teeth. As Karen loses herself in the feeling of his heat and hands and kisses, she daydreams about what could happen next. She could slide off his lap to kneel between his legs. She could take the very strong evidence of his arousal and pepper it with kisses until he begs her to take him in her mouth. She could get him just close enough, and then crawl up the hard line of his body to take him in every way possible. She could make him believe that he’s been worth waiting for.

Instead, she pushed lightly on his chest until he pulls away with what she can only call a pout. He looks the definition of dishevelled with his soft curls askew and pupils blown wide. Her chest heaves, and she bites back a small noise of disappointment when his hips cease their wonderful friction against hers. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re drunk,” she reminds him unsteadily.  

Frank lets his head fall back against the couch. His hands tighten on her waist briefly, reminding her of their precarious position--as if she could forget. She hasn’t been so turned on in eons. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I know.”

“We should stop.”

His head lifts, eyes meeting hers, hopeful. “For now?”

Karen smiles, allowing one more brief kiss. It takes every bit of self-control in her to keep it chaste. “Until you’re sober. Then we’ll talk. But we can check one thing off your list, if you like.”

His mind struggles to switch gears. “Which one?”

Karen kisses his nose before clamoring off the couch (and his lap) on wobbly legs. “I’m going to preset the coffee machine for the morning. Now, which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

When he gives her a tentative, wonderful, bashful smile, Karen has to force herself to walk into the kitchen. Frank Castle has never been so dangerous as he is now, she thinks, sitting on that couch with mussed hair and swollen lips. Every instinct begs for her to return to his lap and continue what they started, but she measures the coffee out and stays strong. They can finish tomorrow, but they have things to talk about.

Over coffee. She smiles and sets the timer.

[noocturnalchild]

2. LUMINOUS 

He spent all day outside. He spent all day in coffee shops and diners and parks, like a homeless lost guy. Cursing between his teeth, glaring at strangers and walking aimlessly.

How the hell was he going to return home and look you in the eyes again?

How the hell did he manage to fuck things up?

How did he ….how did things whirl in a huge black vortex all of a sudden?

Why didn’t he keep his big mouth shut? What a loser, a loser and a weirdo.

That’s what he thought of himself, all the way wandering in the street.

Now he might go back home and you won’t talk to him again.

Or worse,

He might go back and find you packing your things to fuck off, away from a whack like him.

Or even worse,

He may return and find you already gone, and will never see you again.

He groaned loudly out of frustration, shooting randomly an empty dented can as he walked an avenue bathed in the setting sun warm light. The can went rolling and hit the feet of a passerby.

“Freak!”

He shouted in Adam’s direction and Adam muttered a confused sorry, big frame glued to a wall to avoid the angry man.

The little incident aggravated his gloomy mood and ended his street journey for the day. He still didn’t want to go home though.

A coward.  

When Adam thought he had his share of self-deprecation, he headed directly to work and decided to spend the night there. That was the best thing he could do, or that’s what he convinced himself was best to do.

*

Tucked in your sofa, mouth full of cherry pie, you threw away the tv remote control moodily.

The sun disappeared under the buildings of your neighborhood and you knew that Adam wasn’t going to show up till late night, and maybe not at all.

you waited for him to return home all day. You worked from home and you had nothing to do outside. You tried to busy yourself with anything that crossed your mind. You cleaned the apartment, you brewed cups after cups of tea, you took a bath, thinking and rethinking what you were going to tell him, writing and erasing speeches in your head, fancy dramatic ones and simple, heartfelt confessions.

All morning, you were buzzing with excitement, unexplainable striking feeling of warmth, recalling his awkward blush and silly excuses, his reddened ears as he struggled with his words.

Those were the signs, weren’t they? So obvious, he likes you.

But as the afternoon progressed, you weren’t sure anymore.

Was it just a misunderstanding? Have you projected your own feelings and hopes on him?

You even prepared a cherry pie and took your time to decorate it, expecting him to share it with you after you’ve confessed to him. You waited for it to cool watching the wall clock, sitting in the little kitchen and gasping every time you heard footsteps echoes in the building corridors, thinking it might be Adam, disappointment flooding you because it wasn’t him, every single time.  

And here you were now, like a loser, zapping over Netflix series, eating your pie alone.

You felt like an idiot, you couldn’t just stay and wait anymore, so you jumped to grab your cellphone and call him. It rang and rang but he didn’t answer. He might be wanting to be alone, you thought, you really hoped that was it, and nothing else.

And what if something happened to him? What if a truck hit him, what if he got assaulted? What if… The what ifs were increasing your anxiety but you couldn’t bring yourself to call again. In the ocean of uncertainty you were rapidly drowning in, you were certain of one thing : It took just one little incident to make you realize you were already so into him. And now doubting his intentions and emotional state was unbearable once you came to acknowledge your own feelings. Love is tricky. That was a sure thing too.

*

Adam arrived at work earlier than usual. As he emptied his bag in the changing room he noticed that his phone was dead. Shit. No charger in sight, he forgot it at home. Of course. Shit again.

Did you call? He couldn’t help but think about this possibility. Are you worried about him? Or are you mad at him? What are you thinking of him now? A fucking perv? A crazy needy perv?

“ You wearing you blue pajama”

Genius.

Fuck.

Damn it Adam, stop it for a while. Give it a break.

He reached for a small box he was hiding in his personal locker. He exhaled a deep sigh but he smiled. Its content shone glowingly under the bright recessed lights, it was still beautiful and he was still wanting to give it to you. He didn’t know how for now, or if what was he doing was worth the try anymore so he tucked it in his pocket and let the comforting presence warm his heart as he proceeded to clean in autopilot mode. Numbing his worries for the night.  

*

11 PM

You fidgeted in your sheets. Impossible to close your eyes or get your brain to shut down. Even your book that was thrilling yesterday felt bland tonight. What you were about to do was crazy, maybe, but the idea had been trotting in your mind for some time now. You wanted to be sure nothing happened to Adam, you didn’t have his work number, but you were familiar with his work place cause he asked you (sheepishly) several times to bring him something he forgot at home, a habit of his. Even his annoying habits weren’t annoying, and it wasn’t because he always treated you to dinner afterward.

You had to find him.

You jumped into your leggings and put a hoodie on, called an uber and in the span of 20 minutes you were facing the big illuminated building. You inhaled deeply before going in, trying to focus and not let the fear seep in you.

As you pushed the entry door and the vast cold space unfurled before you, your heart beats raced in your throat, your dread came to embrace you again. You saw the receptionist looking strangely at you, half expectant, half annoyed, and you cleared your throat.

“ Hi, um.. I’m looking for Adam”

please say you know who I’m talking about.

“ Adam who?”

“ The guy… the tall guy who cleans stuff here”

Please, say he is here.

“ I haven’t seen him come in today, sorry” he snorted. It was obvious from his tone that he didn’t want you there.

Damn, this couldn’t be possible, come on people.

“ Please, it’s urgent, I’m his roommate and I can’t reach him on his phone, can you please ask anyone in the offices, anyone who can help me find him?” you talked so fast and your voice was shaking, tears menacing to spill over.

The receptionist eyed you displeasingly then with a huff he told you to wait and started dialing.

With every second you hoped someone would pick up on the other side of the wire but nothing. For long seconds you looked around you, the hall silent, the buzz of air conditioners, the lightening, white and blinding recessed damned lights.

Then

“ Y/N !”

You gasped, and turned your body to the source of the voice, the one and only voice you wanted to hear now.

“What are you doing here” He stopped, eyes of a deer in the headlights, beautiful, wide, luminous, your favorite.

He was a little out of breath, in his work clothes and holding bottles of detergents, his strands of hair a bit sweaty, a bit messy, but he looked more glorious and glowing than any prince you read about in fairy tales. Love is what it is.

“ Adam …I..” You started but he cut you off.

“Come upstairs?” he simply asked, still out of breath. He nodded to the receptionist and he nodded back. Implicit consent.

You followed and struggled to keep silent, mesmerized by his large shoulders as his long legs climbed the stairs. You could feel the electricity buzzing between you two, heavy silence, sexual tension ?

You reached the floor he was cleaning and you were about to lose it when his hand pushed you gently in one of the open spaces  and your turned your heels to face him, at last.

You both breathed deep in unison.

“hi”

“hi”

You looked like two idiots, for sure.

“ so…” he started.

His eyes, you needed to stop staring.

“ yeah..”

“ I think that at some point someone should start to really …talk” you laughed.

“ yeah. Sure, sure” he paused. “ I’m sorry. If that makes any sense” his voice was reaching its deepest lowest levels. It sent shivers through all your body.

“ I’m sorry, I acted like an idiot the previous night and this morning…. And during all the day, actually …eugh” He winced, looking at his feet.

“ No…Adam ..”

“ No, you don’t have to act like it’s ok, I really crossed a line and I’m truly sorry y/n” he was about to put his large hands on your shoulders but he changed his mind and fisted them on his chest, another thing he did a lot, and that you found endearing.

“ Adam, just listen !” you blurted out, reaching a peak of nervousness because of  all the things you were holding in.

“ Adam it was ok, it was really ok… it ..was, it felt good.” You gulped, watching him under your lashes, you couldn’t believe you said this, you watched as his pretty lips parted to form a perfect O. Then what seemed like a sunny smile reaching his eyes.

“ And I was worried about you all day, I tried to call but you didn’t-“

“ Fuck, my fucking…sorry, my stupid phone was dead.. that’s ..that’s why”

You sighed out of relief.

“ So you called me? Jesus, I thought you will be like … purifying your bed from my presence and invoking… dunno… a divinity to take your revenge or something..”

“ Shut up” you laughed heartily, all nervousness starting to fade away as a blush spread over your face and warmth in your gut.

“You are pretty” he blurted, blushing the tiniest bit.

You looked down to your worn leggings and tennis shoes, suddenly self- conscious. Your face must be just as pity looking, but as you looked up you saw him staring at you, eyes searching for something, then stilling on your lips.

You reached for a damp strand of hair and tucked it behind his ear, all words failing you.

He took a step forward, and leaned down, hesitant. You met his movement, and as you closed your eyes, you felt the gentle push of his lips on yours, and the world ceased to exist.

He kissed you with all the tenderness he got, all the delicacy and sweetness you needed. It felt nice, it felt pure and just like him. It felt kind and caring.

Your heart swelled and swelled, head span, you lost every sense of time and place. You didn’t even mind the white, cold blinding lights above your heads. All you could feel was his warmth, invading you from everywhere. Then he stopped.

“ I wanted to do it somewhere else” he whispered, out of breath again.

“ where” you hushed, eyes shut, still lost in the moment.

“ Your room”

“ let’s go then”  you beamed at him “ I even made a pie for you… well, it’s half a pie now” you laughed gently.

And he kissed you again. He couldn’t believe this was happening. You were perfect for him. He never considered himself lucky, but what was happening now made him reconsider everything. Maybe it was his time, to be happy, to share all that he could give with someone willing to receive and to give back, abundantly. You.

When your lips parted again, he took your hand and led you outside.

“Let’s go finish this at home before I got fired”

You shared laughs and kisses and light chit chat all the way home and as soon as the door closed behind you your lips crashed again, with much more vigor and passion this time. He lifted you in his arms, so swiftly and easily you felt like a feather. Flush to his body you shuddered under his caring touch. It was mind blowing, so mind blowing he stumbled on the chair leg and lost balance, luckily he could put you down in time and avoided crashing on the floor with all his weight on you.

“Aouch” You laughed loud.

“ Fuck me!”

“We should eat my pie first”  

Your eyes were glowing with mischief.

“ I have something for you, too”  he scratched his neck.

And he took the box out of his pocket.

“ Sorry, I’m so impatient, I should have wrapped it at least, I know, and I should have waited till your birthday”

“ no more “sorrys” ! Adam that’s … that’s so kind of you”

“ it’s not just kindness, you know it now”

And you blushed some more, he made of you a hot mess.

“ open it, come on” he urged.

And you did.

It was wonderful.

A book mark. Shaped as a beautifully sculpted dragonfly, decorated with glowing stones in all shades of green. It was fairy. That’s all what you could think of it.

“ matches the fantasy books you like to read” he said sheepishly as words refused to leave your mouth. You were bewildered .

So you just jumped on him, hugging him and kissing him randomly, everywhere you mouth could reach. He seemed delighted, euphoric, eyes glassy as if he was drunk, and when you recovered, a detail stroke you. His gift must had cost a little much.

“ Adam, it’s expensive, isn’t it?”

“ No ! at all” he protested a bit aggressively and you knew you were right.

“ Adam is that why …” it hit you now.

“ What?” he laughed

“ Adam is that why you are working extra hours?”

“ nooooo” he sang awkwardly.

“ yes, please tell me “

“ NO!”

But you knew the truth. Adam couldn’t lie, it was that simple. It showed. Too pure for that.

You wanted to treat him right too. You just wanted to show him how much you felt love blooming in your chest for him. it always was there. When he asked gently if you wanted to be his roommate, in the way he refused to take money from you to pay rent because he knew you were jobless at the time. How he cared for you all the two and half years you were living together, the little details, the gentle words, the beautiful little, simple gestures, the occasional long talks. How he was being protective and nervous everytime he saw lame guys hitting on you, at the rare parties you went to together. It was always there, the love, growing silently, little things wired, linked, spreading roots in your hearts and now the time finally came for it to bloom and sprout, in the bright light.

“ Won’t we eat your pie now?”  he asked, playful. 

“Of course we will” and in your eyes sparkled the promises of much more.

[dadolorian]

Just like me- Part one

A/N: this is the first time i have ever shared a fic to tumblr.  Credits: Thank you @oloreaa​ for being my Beta reader/editor ! 

Title: Just Like me  Fandom: Prospect (2018) Ship: Ezra/Reader Warning: Talk of injuries/amputation. Ezra and reader get to know each other. Reader is an amputee. No use of Y/N. Word count: 3K +

MASTER LIST  Request status AO3 Link Next part. - coming soon

Prospecting was a dangerous job sometimes.

You were proof enough for that. 

Some would ask why bother with the risk, but they can not understand.

The thrill and joy of finding and securing your payload, the rush you got for a job well done, the chance to drift about to new and wondrous places, was more than worth the risk in your eyes.

And the pay, well, when you had a good job, the pay more than made up for the dangers of prospecting.

You could almost guarantee that after each run  your account would be filled up with more points than what you started with. And once you paid off the rental of your pod and supplies, more often than not you made a decent enough profit if things didn’t go tits up.

It was fair to say you were a decent enough prospector, maybe not the most experienced,but you had a decent enough excuse for that. Until a few months ago you were in recovery, having injured yourself on the last run of jobs you had been on before your current drop onto the Green.

Arguably, you could have retired after your injury. Caused a big enough fuss to get some serious compensation, but that would have meant giving up chasing the rush. 

At heart, you were a wanderer, a floater, and you couldn’t settle just yet.

Of course, after the accident you couldn’t just swing back to it. You needed to recover, and medical bills were expensive, not to mention you couldn’t let your employers get away with their gross negligence that caused the accident to begin with, so you had come to an agreement. 

It worked out for both of you, you get to keep your lifestyle and be financially secure at the same time, and they didn’t have to go through a public court battle. 

Your last, and most recent swing had been average, ending with a gig on the Green, you had just caught the ride back home.

Your routine getting back aboard was always the same, even after such a  longtime. Say goodbye to your (temporary) partner, sell your Aurelac, drop your belongings in your bunk and take a shower.

Thanks to your hush contract, you had the luxury of a second class bunk this time around, not having to rely on sleeping in your drop ship. It was bigger, private, had its own bathroom and all free of charge for you. Some perks for not choosing to sue.

A new, and rather annoying addition to your routine now would be to check into the medical bay, the only reason your doctors had allowed you back to work was that you agreed to regular check-ups when you weren’t on a gig.

So, a few days later, having waited for after the rush of people docking to catch the last swing to die down, you made your way to the medical wing for a drop in appointment.

Even though the waiting room was empty, you were forced to wait.

You sat down at an observational window, passing the time by watching the stars as the ship flew by them.

Lost in the view for an unknown amount of time, the sound of the door caught your attention, that familiar hiss of them opening and shutting.

You turned to make eye contact with the other patient… another amputee, just like yourself. You took note of his face, a small scar on the left cheek, the prominent nose, a streak of blonde in his otherwise dark and slightly scruffy hair, square jaw, and short facial hair. He was certainly handsome, even with his slightly disheveled appearance. 

His right arm was gone, you noted, just below the shoulder. His stump was well bandaged, you didn’t feel guilt about staring at his injury, you were one in the same after all, but he seemed to mind.

He tried to subtly turn himself away from your inspection so his left side was facing you more, a little self-conscious over his injury, it would seem.

You gave him a warm smile, trying to ease his embarrassment a little by pulling up your right pant leg to show him your prosthetic.

A silent way of telling him you were one in the same.

It seemed to have worked, for he visibly relaxed a little, returning your smile as he found a place to sit close by after checking in.

He hesitated, looking like he wanted to ask you something. He was lost in his thoughts for a short while before you decided to speak first.

“Recent amputation?” You asked, giving him another smile.

“Yeah, happened less than a cycle before catching the swing back,” he said

You nodded to yourself “Looks pretty fresh. You don’t look quite comfortable with it yet either”  

“No, indeed I am not.” He sighed “May i ask... if I were to inquire about your own heretofore displayed impairment, would you have any issue in disclosing what had caused your own injury to me?” He asked , eyes roaming over your face, small crooked smile tugging at his lips

Did he swallow a fucking thesaurus? You thought to yourself, leaning back in your window seat. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours first.” Tilting your head, you looked him in the eyes.

“I asked first,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, you did. Seems rude to ask my story without offering yours first,” you said, the smile  that was on your face letting him know you weren’t actually bothered.

“Very well,” he said, sitting back into his chair, getting comfortable by throwing his one arm over the back of it. “I was shot by a little bird. Scared kid who was completely justified in her actions, so I do not find myself with much blame towards her." Something like regret flitted over his face, but it was quickly gone as he launched himself into the story." I had originally been the cause of her predicament becoming much direr than it currently was, so she fired upon me in what she believed to be defense despite my lack of intentions to harm her."

He then gestured to his shoulder, and gave a half shrug as his brows drew together." Sad truth is it became inflamed , dust had entered my wound and I was not able to treat it accordingly. Before I knew it, infection set in and I eventually had to make the onerous decision to amputate it before it spread to the rest of my body.” Smile wry, he made a gesture at you like 'What can you do?', the corner of his expressive eyes crinkling slightly.

“You did it yourself?” You winced.

“Naw, Little lady who shot me became quite the welcomed, albeit reluctant, ally. Managed to do it all herself, cool as a cucumber." He huffed to himself, amused, before continuing: "Wish I could say the same for myself, I was wracked with nerves during the whole procedure.” He looked at you, a self-deprecating tone in his voice that was offset by the hawk-sharp look in his eyes.

“Ah, well at least you’re not bullshitting your bravery,” you huffed, before backtracking to what he said, eyes becoming wide as saucers. “So, you were conscious?” You asked in shock.

“Regrettably so. We did not have the luxury of professional medical facilities such as this.” He gestured around.

“I’ve heard some nasty amputation stories over my time recovering, and it’s always the ones where they are conscious that bother me the most,” you explained, feeling ever so slightly queasy at the thought.

“And…what about yourself?” He asked.

“Unfortunately for you I am not allowed to tell my whole story." You smiled at him, holding up your hands. "An unnamed private business was responsible for an accident in which I can’t disclose legally. Had to sign a lot of papers,” you sighed at that, unable to keep your annoyance out of your voice, before continuing. ”What I can tell you was I was in an accident involving machinery. I broke everything below my waist, most of it was healed, but my right leg was the worst. Completely crushed. When I was pulled out, the limb had undergone some extreme tissue damage." You paused for half a second, mind wandering. "They tried to save it, but there was nothing that could be done,” you explained with a slightly dismissive shrug. His brow was furrowed, looking at the prosthetic slightly exposed at the ankle in thought. “You seem to handle it quite well” He said eventually. You took a closer look at him. Bags under his eyes, avoiding prolonged eye contact with you, lethargic body language. It was recent for him, you concluded, he was still traumatized. Not that you blamed him. “A lot of people say that, ” you said, wanting to give him some hope and comfort, his eyes seemed so sad, you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be the support you had needed yourself when you were in his position. “It’s gotten easier, but I can’t lie and say I’m not still affected by it anymore. There are days where I continue to struggle. But each day gets easier. They will get easier for you too.” You looked him straight in the eyes, face serious. You needed him to understand that you were not simply saying things, that it was something that you had experienced yourself. He gave you a skeptical look, silently challenging that notion. “I know, I know,” you sighed, looking down to the floor before meeting his gaze again. “It’s hard to believe right now, but it’s true. You’ll struggle, but that means you’ll learn and adapt. You’ll get there.” Giving him a big smile, you hoped that some of your words will stick. .

“If I can be honest, I’ve already gotten sick of hearing those words of encouragement from my doctor. It seems so hollow and disingenuous when he says it, like a fallacy. It feels infantilizing to have him repeat his mantra over, and over again, and frankly, I struggle to believe it." He scoffed slightly, before quieting. Looking at you, head slightly tilted, he continued. "But coming from you, someone who has been in my own shoes, so to speak, I feel inclined to believe there is some truth behind those words, even if I do find myself skeptical about them,” he said, brows drawn together, eyes roaming across your face. . You shrugged lightly. “It usually helps, knowing someone who’s gone through the same thing. A friend.” “And is that what you are offering me? A friendship?” He asked, an amused smile gracing his lips and a curious look in his tired eyes. 

You shrugged again “I think that depends on you. But, at the very least, I can be an understanding ear, and I'm willing to listen. If you’re interested that is.” 

He cocked his head slightly at you, a small smile playing around his lips, “I…”  he began, choosing his words “ I appreciate the offer. It would be nice to have someone who will listen to my long-winded nammerings without judgment or pity.”

“No pity…  just…sympathy, compassion,” you offered.

“I think, then, I would like that very much. So long as you promise not to grow weary of my contemplation's” 

You gave him an amused huff. “I think with the way you talk, it would be very hard to be bored.” 

“Very well, annoyed then.” He smiled and you laughed at his small joke. 

You were content to sit there and chat to him more about anything and everything, but unfortunately for the two of you your conversation was interrupted by the receptionist calling your name. “That you?” He asked. “Yup” You sighed standing up reluctantly. ”It was nice to meet you…?” “-Ezra,” he supplied. “Ezra,” you repeated, testing it out. It suited him. “I hope I can see you around then, I mean it, having someone who understands how to help would really benefit you.” “I know, thank you. I’ll have to take you up on it soon.” He smiled, giving you a small wave as you left the waiting room for your check up. 

It surprised you to find him waiting outside the medical wing for you when you finished with your appointment. He was leaning back against the wall trying to look nonchalant.  “How the fuck did you get out before me?” You asked with a smile, pleasantly surprised. He had a small smile of relief on his face,“I only went for a bandage change,” he said, waving his stump a little to show. “I hope you are not too put off by my waiting here. I fear i may come across as overzealous.” “It’s fine, don’t worry about it” You smiled, shaking your head in indication you didn't think that way of him. “Sorry you had to wait so long. If I had known you were waiting I might have tried to hurry things along.” “It’s not a problem," Ezra insisted "I didn’t really have plans to do anything, and I was hoping for a better chance to talk to you." He gave a boyish smile, and you could not help but being charmed a bit. "Perhaps in the mess hall, if you would be so inclined to join me?” You nodded in understanding and agreement. “Fair enough, I suppose. How’s it healing then?” You asked, motioning to his stump. “As well as it can be. My doctor is worried about my exposure to further infection so it's being heavily monitored. Daily changes at the moment.” “That gets boring fast,” you said, motioning for him to follow you as you made your way to the mess hall. “I am very much in agreement with you there, I must say," He said "I have only been on board for a few days and I am already finding myself bored and frustrated with the routine,” Ezra sighed slightly, annoyance in his voice. “Just wait until you get a prosthetic. Then you’ll be in there for ages,” you snickered before you realized something. ”Are you wanting a prosthetic?” You asked. “I don’t think I would be able to even consider choosing not to invest in one." Brows furrowed, he looked at you. "I can not even fathom how i would be able to continue on in my career without the use of my arm.” “Quite the investment, if you want one good enough to act as a full replacement. I would have to imagine they would cost more than a prosthetic leg.” “That's what the doc said. I am a little overwhelmed with decisions because he keeps showing me all these different options that I cannot quite distinguish from each other." Frustration was written all across his face and in his voice. "I had not realized it would be so complicated.” He sighed, sounding a little dejected. “I’d be more than willing to offer my help in that then,” you offered, “It's best to figure out your needs and work backwards from there.” 

“You are surely a godsent from the heavens themselves,” he chuckled, you ignored the way his compliment and laugh made your stomach flip. “I am simply wise counsel,” you joked, making him chuckle more. “Either way, your offers of help in all kind of regards is much appreciated. I do not feel quite so daunted towards my own recovery now." Ezra smiled at you brightly, and you smiled back. "I thank you for your kindness, a rarity i fear in this line of work sometimes.” “Not wrong there,” you sighed knowingly as the two of you entered the mess hall. It was quiet, given the time of day, a little too early for those wanting their lunch that wasn’t from a ration or nutrient pack. You preferred it like this anyway. 

The food wasn’t amazing, neither of you were first class citizens but it was damn better than the food you were all able to store on your pods and ships. A hot meal of any kind was sought after on these kinds of trips, even if it was just hot mush.

You filled up your tray alongside Ezra, watching him curiously as he easily filled his tray as he pushed it along, the hard part would be maneuvering to a table. You weren't going to offer him any physical help, not yet at least. Giving him the space to learn and adapt would do him better than to dote on him. You remembered how frustrating it was, but you also remember how equally frustrating it was to be physically dependent on others. 

You would not offer him help with physical things unless he asked. 

Regardless, he managed it, balancing his tray on one arm as the two of you made your way over to an empty table. You pulled your chair out and he kicked his out before you both sat down. 

“I think I like coming here earlier,” he said, looking around. “Less people means less well meaning individuals offer to help me out,” he said, tucking into whatever food he had piled on his tray. “I hope that doesn’t make me sound ungrateful. I appreciate help but I do not want to be treated like someone completely invalid, the idea of not being able to take care of myself physically is a wretched notion.” “No, I get ya,” you said, understanding. “You need to do things for yourself. You value your independence, and when people dote on you like that, you feel pitied, your independence feels invalidated. You start to resent the ‘help’ because of it.” “A perfect way to describe the mix of feelings I have found myself with over these past few days,” he agreed, looking at you, chewing on his food “Just wait until you get your prosthetic” You smiled “You’ll be able to hide it well under a long sleeve and no one would be able to tell” “Well if you are any indication to go by, i am more than willing to believe that," He said "If i had not known you were missing a part of yourself beforehand, i would not have been able to tell just from watching you walk. It's impossible to notice at a glance” He complimented, smiling, eyes dropping slightly wistfully. “Thank you, I was fueled purely by spite in my recovery” You said, your smile growing. He laughed “Why, I am truly inclined to believe you." He grinned at you, smile sharp and endearing all the same time. "I shall take that to heart in my own recovery and take inspiration from you.�� 

There the two of you sat in the mess hall with him what felt like hours. You found him so easy to talk to and could not help but be entertained by the way he spoke and whatever story he told you. You had found yourself hanging onto his every word, and when you spoke he made you feel like the center of the universe. Your conversations drifted between your shared physical disabilities as well as more personal topics, to get to know each other a little better. You spoke about the places you had visited, the difficult jobs, and your shared love of books. You couldn’t remember the last time you had such a pleasant conversation with another prospector. Most of your interactions were your temporary partners or hostile ‘competition’, there was never any opportunity to share in such deep conversations.

When the two of you reluctantly parted ways, you made sure to let him know where to find you in the second class quarters should he feel inclined to want to speak to you again.

He assured you very much that he was definitely interested in seeing you again. You felt like a teenage girl at that and as you said your goodbyes, hiding a bashful smile as he promised he would come find you again soon.

[asherranceoftheheart]

Icarus Falls - III - The Good Doctor Comes Home

Story Summary: “You’ll never leave me alone right?“ “You think I’d actually let you go?”

A story about the slow descent and corruption of a lonely man, a demon who learns that bonds go both ways, brothers who deeply regrets their words spoken out of anger, and a conflicted man watching them all fall down from the distance. Here’s a Puppet!Chase AU that was written with extreme self-indulgence so beware and read the tags before entering.

Chapter Summary: Chapter title says it all lol but also a breather chapter Pairing/s: None, Platonic Character/s: Jack McLoughlin, Chase Brody, Antisepticeye, Henrik Von Schneeplestein, Mentions of Other Septic Egos Genre: Angst, Fluff Chapter Warning/s: Self-Deprecating Thoughts (Thoughts like I’m not as good as the others, etc.), Sadness, extremely vague mentions of torture (Archive Of Our Own Edition)  (Prev. Chapter)

Do you ever have one of those days when you wake up feeling both numb, and raw and sensitive on the inside and thinking ‘Ah. It’s one of those days…’ and wondering if it’s even worth the effort to open your eyes and move?

Chase felt emotionally and physically drained with a rocking throbbing headache as he woke up in a cold empty bed, tucked in like a child under the blankets. He stared up at the ceiling blankly, looking and thinking of nothing in particular until the memories began to come in crystal clear film in his mind. His hand twitched as he remembered the warmth of another person enveloping him even if that person had been his mortal enemy.

A part of him wanted to hate himself for missing, for yearning for the addicting affectionate touches that his enemy showered him with while he had been dreadfully sick. After all, had he become so desperate after nearly nine months of having no positive physical contact with other people that he would take comfort in the demon who was the main cause for why it was happening in the first place? However, a bigger part of himself was just tired, so very tired of the constant emotional olympics his self-hatred would force him to go through every single day.

He closed his eyes and for a moment, he allowed his own mind and heart to fool himself and pretend that the last part of yesterday never happened. He chose to believe in the fleeting happiness of the illusion that his best friend had never gone into a coma and tht Anti was merely a part of an excruciatingly long nightmare.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun had gone down outside but he can’t find the energy in himself to give a fuck about time moving on without him.

Chase heard his phone buzz with new notifications. He stomped down the flickering spark of hope that it would be any of his brothers finally answering his messages and calls. He knows that he can’t keep blocking out the world like this especially when the world needs him to be Jack McLoughlin so with an exhausted grunt, he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position and reached over to the left bedside drawer to grab his phone.

He pressed the button on the side and was relieved to see that it was just Doctor Adam rather than one of Jack’s friends asking Jack if he was alright.

Dr. Adam: Mr. Brody? You haven’t replied to my messages for a while. Is everything alright?

The concern from the doctor melted some of the ice numbing his heart. This man really reminded him of Henrik albeit softer and more formal.

Chase: I’m ok doc. But I don’t think I’ll be able to drop by for a while. Think I caught a bug on the way back or something and I don’t want to transfer any of it to Jack. I’ll try to take a few more days off until I’m sure I’m okay. :)

Dr. Adam: Ah! I thought so… You’ve never missed a day visiting your brother unless you were really sick. So I was worried. But since you said that you’re okay I have to trust that you know yourself and your limits by now. Do take care of yourself! Get a lot of sleep, eat something even if it’s just buttered toast (altho I would prefer if you ate healthier foods…), drink lots of liquid, and make sure you take your medicine.

Chase: Yea, I’ve been doing all that Just keep me updated on Jack pls?

Dr. Adam: But of course, I know how much you worry over your brother. Anyway, I’ll leave you to rest. I hope you get well soon!

‘I hope I do too, Doc.’ Chase wiped a hand over his weary face with a loud sigh.

He placed his phone down on his bed when his eyes caught sight of something sharing the same drawer that his phone had been placed in earlier. It was his medicine and it was placed on top of what appeared to be a note. He knows what the pills were obviously for but the note awakened some of his curiosity and anger.

It was obvious who wrote that note.

He wanted to run over to his desk and grab his lighter to burn that seemingly innocent looking white paper as anybody with a shred of common sense should. However he knows himself. He knows his curiosity over what the note would contain would itch at him for a long long time if he didn’t find out what it said.

He inhaled deeply and slowly let the air out as a low hiss through gritted teeth while he mussed up his already messed up hair.

“Fucker,” Chase insulted both the demon for taking advantage of his thrice damned curiosity that could rival the stubbornness of a spoiled cat, and himself for falling for this obvious show of manipulation as he forced his arm to reach out and grabbed the paper.

He crumpled the note into a wrinkly ball and stared down at it with some trepidation. What horrific message will this paper contain? Was it going to contain some blackmail worthy secret? Maybe taunt him for his complete breakdown yesterday? Jesus Christ… He literally fell apart on top of the bastard. He’d wish he could erase the memory but Anti would probably take that as permission to completely fuck him up mentally and maybe possess him as a little treat.

Well, he can’t keep stalling for more time like a coward. He uncrumpled the paper, smoothing it out on his covered lap, and read it with some trepidation.

One pill every eight hours from the moment you wake up. Going to be busy for a while. Don’t wait up for me, little brother. You’re still sick so don’t have a breakdown every other hour. Remember I’M ALWAYS WATCHING

Chase stared down at the note that was practically dripping with sarcasm with an expressionless gaze. A form of calm had settled down upon him and he almost absentmindedly started to rip the note in half. He doesn’t know what to feel about the laughably simple note. Should he get angry? Should he spend the time away from the bastard trying to decode some sort of hidden message from it?

In the end, he decided that it wasn’t worth the energy to get annoyed or obsessed over the taunt. He spent the next few minutes tearing the note into teeny tiny pieces before he left it scattered all over the top of his lap in unsalvageable scraps.

The ripping and tearing actually brought him some satisfaction which he relished in no matter how tiny it was. He swept the mess off his bed with a wide wave and watched it free fall to the floor like snow during winter. The man slid off his bed and spitefully ignored the medicine before he dragged himself over to the bathroom to freshen up.

He took a short shower, changed into fresh new indoor clothes, and dried his hair with a towel before brushing it up until it stayed neat and fluffy on his head. A sudden burst of productive energy suddenly shot through his entire body when he looked over the entirety of his room and realized just how filthy he had let it become over the months.

Chase could almost hear Anti sneering at him at the back of his head, telling him how useless and broken he was when nobody is there to pull him forward like a fucking donkey.

A massive wave of spite mixed in with his burst of energy and he began walking around the room to gather up his dirty clothes to put inside a hamper that he carried over to his laundry room to load up inside the washing machine. Then before working the machine, he went back to his room to change his bed sheets and blanket to a clean one before hefting them all up to the laundry room. While the washer was humming and vibrating as it got to work, he grabbed two big trash bags from his current location before he walked back to his bedroom.

The first step to feeling better after another one of your long episodes is to clear up the clutter that built up around you. It will help you associate clearing up as another way of resetting your own point of view.

A tiny smile twitched up at the corner of his lips as Henrik’s gruff but gentle voice as he coaxed him from his bed in the past. He separated his trash into two bags and straightened up to look around his now cleaner room. Chase tied up the trash bags so that none of them would spill out before he opened up his window and smiled faintly at the refreshing evening breeze that brushed against his heated face.

Then he walked over to his closet to bring out the Roomba that he hasn’t used for a while, letting out a victorious ‘heh’ when it still worked and placed it in the middle of his room before turning it on to roam around the floor to suck up the dust that built up over the past months.

He gave his cleaner and brighter bedroom another look over with satisfaction pulsing in his chest before making two trips up and down the stairs to take out the trash that he just collected and move the piled up dirty mugs on his desk down to the kitchen.

“How’s this for being useless and broken, asshole?” Chase spitefully said into the empty air towards the absent being who insulted him daily when he was there. “Fuck you.”

Chase huffed to himself in the middle of the kitchen while he was crouched over his dishwasher, loading it up with all the dirty dishes. After he closed the thing’s door, he realized as his stomach growled rather loudly, that he was pretty hungry.

“I’m hungry but I’m not in the mood for anything too heavy or chewy…” Chase hummed while he browsed the contents of his fridge. He leaned over and grabbed the covered bowl at the back of the fridge. “Oh hey, this was the cream of mushroom soup I ordered a week ago… It doesn’t smell bad so I guess it’s still fine!”

He heated it up on the stove before scooping them all up into a clean bowl. He placed a spoon with it before he walked over to the living room. Chase turned on the TV before laying on his side at the couch while he slurped up his soup.

‘Man… If Hen was here he’d probably be telling me that this soup isn’t healthy enough for me,’ Chase chuckled to himself, eyes misting over with nostalgia over the memories of his most fussy older brother. ‘Then he’d threaten to tie me up on a chair and feed me his horrid homemade food.’

Henrik might be one of the smartest people in the world but his cooked food… There’s a reason why he was never allowed to cook for them during their weekly gatherings. He remembered Marvin telling him a story about his first time of coming into contact with Henrik’s Mystery Food and swearing on his name and magic that it had a living soul.

“It’s not that bad!” He would hear Henrik stomping his feet on the floor while imagining the lethal glare he’d give his brothers while they gently redirected him even as he’s protesting the discrimination loudly from the kitchen.

“Henrik please… Every single bite Jackie makes of your food immediately sends him to the hospital and you of all people know that he’s immune to nearly all sorts of poison.” Jack squeezed the fuming doctor’s tensed shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

“Come on, Jack-Jack. You don’t have to sweeten the truth up for our mother hen,” Marvin’s delighted and mischief-filled voice would snicker from the other room where he was probably curled up on the floor near the window to get the maximum sunshine. “Henrik, your food tastes so bad that Jackie’s mind blocked out any memory of the taste to protect him from relieving the trauma.”

“As if your cooking is any better!” Henrik would shoot back scathingly.

“At least I can survive on it on my own and feed some of it to others!” Marvin would have puffed up as he readied himself for their banter.

“Guys please,” Jackie, ever the peacemaker, would try to calm the duo down while Jack wouldn’t even try and raise the white flag the second they start.

Chase laughed to himself at the present time as he recalled the loud racket Marvin and Henrik would make while they exchanged light-hearted insults. He would’ve been in the kitchen, humming and smiling while he busied himself with his cooking. A few minutes later would find Creator and Hero skulking back to his safe grounds with their tails tucked neatly between their legs and trying to help him but he’d just easily shoo them off to pout at the kitchen table.

‘I wish Jamie had experienced that before everything went to complete shit,’ Chase’s smile turned bittersweet at that stray thought. ‘Henrik and Jack would’ve loved him. He and Hen would probably spend some nights drinking tea in the middle of the night with each other. He’d have helped curtail some of Marvy’s sharp nature with a light smack on the shoulder. Jackie would’ve been so glad to have someone helping him act as the peacemaker of the family. Jack… Jack would’ve adored him. He’d gush about how Jamie was so spirited, so sassy, expressive and—and how he and Marvy always loved so fiercely…’

Chase licked his spoon clean (Marvin would’ve been looking at him with disgust and tell him that he’s a mannerless savage which… bold words for someone who would lick their balls while in their cat form) and dropped it down with a loud ear ringing clang on the now empty bowl before placing them on the living room table. He scooched over and laid down on his back on the couch and crossed his arms at the back of his head as a makeshift pillow while he reminisced.

Anti might insult him for doing nothing else but think of the past but it was the only thing that gave Chase the energy to keep moving forward even if he didn’t really want to. For the sake of all his loved ones who would’ve wanted to experience those memories in the future with them after all of these bullshit… Yeah, he’d trudge through all the painful days for them.

He closed his eyes and tried his darnest to remember anything memorable that had happened since the others left him behind but other than Anti’s unforgettable presence, everything else passed by in a blur.

“Damn,” Chase sighed, his smile lacking any light nor humor to it. “Anti really had a point when he said that I’m useless without the others huh?”

It is not your fault, Chase. Depression has the tendency to mix all your memories together in an unrecognizable blur. Do not worry. We are always here to help you remember.

“Unfortunately Doc,” Chase sighed as he sat up and grabbed the dirty bowl and spoon to place them together in the washer. “The only person left who’ll help me remember the past months is a complete bastard who I wouldn’t entrust my head to even if I had to choose between him and pain.”

Not that he really wanted to remember anything… He’s pretty sure that if he remembered anything it would just be of him whining about his loneliness, Anti fucking him up, and trying to keep up the Jack mask so that nobody else would find out that something had gone wrong.

He went back upstairs and moved the wet clothes from the washing machine to the dryer and loaded up the dirty bed sheets and blanket to the washing machine before heading straight for his bedroom. The Roomba died under his desk, having lost all of its battery while he was downstairs, and he scrounged through his dark closet for its charging adapter. Once the Roomba was set up and charging, he changed into his new pajamas and slipped back under his blankets.

He continued ignoring the set of pills on the drawer and turned on his side so that he could curl up under the sheets. Chase powered on Jack’s phone and waited for it to load so that he could check the comatose man’s social media. Another mentally and emotionally draining part of his imitation job was to maintain the Jack mask while pretending that the man was A-Okay and there was no reason for concern.

First, he pulled up Twitter and made a face when he realized that somebody posted something on the account while he was sick. Thank god it was just a little message to everyone that he was going to be on a break for a while because he was sick. It was still creepy that Anti could perfectly copy Jack’s mannerisms as he looked through the little retweets-interaction with everybody. Even he had some hard time fully copying his best friend’s posting quirks.

Either way, it was still annoying and stressful to Chase how the demon could keep pulling these kinds of shit with Jack’s social media. Maybe he should change to passwords and login info to everything while Anti was god knows where.

…

Chase sighed and shrugged. Then again, it’s not like that would be effective anyway. He knows that Anti was the one who keeps reblogging art of himself on the tumblr account even though he was pretty sure he changed the password nearly fifty times over the past few months. It never fazed him.

Speaking of tumblr… A part of him wanted to resent the community for giving the demon so much power through their attention via art, theories, and stories but he knows that it wouldn’t be fair of him to blame them for something that is completely out of their control. It’s not like they knew that the thing with Anti which they knew to be an ‘ARG-like’ story for the channel was actually his and his brother’s reality. Most of them were just people who were enthusiastic for the escapism their ‘story’ provided and he couldn’t exactly fault them for that.

He decided to update twitter that he’s feeling much better than before and that he’ll go back to filming videos tomorrow. The replies were almost immediate as the community reassured him that it would be fine if he took more days off to recover fully and he can’t help but smile at their unending support even if it was actually directed towards Jack. He knows that they wouldn’t mind it if he took an entire week off but he gets really antsy when he’s not putting up any content for the channel.

It feels like if he doesn’t keep it up, there’ll be nothing left for Jack to wake up to, all the hard work he put into this channel and community has been one of his brother’s ultimate joys. He doesn’t want to see Jack’s devastation if he also loses the community that he so dearly loved to the coma.

Besides… It’s not like he can afford to slack off while the others are trying their hardest to save Jack. This and taking care of Jack was the only thing that he could do to be of some use rather than become another burden to his brothers.

After he read and replied to a few more retweets, he turned off Twitter and moved his attention to the other big gathering place for the community. He tapped Tumblr’s app button and scrolled down Jack’s blog and let out a sharp, annoyed exhale when he saw that Anti had been busy reblogging things related to him or him torturing the other egos while Chase had been indisposed. A lot of the theorists hit the nail on the head when they theorized that the one who had been reblogging Anti-related things without any caption had been Anti.

It must have been something about Tumblr’s wonky programming but Anti can’t say anything or it’ll come out all glitched and zalgoed. Of course, he could’ve gotten maximum attention that way but he probably thought that it would be much better to have the fans stewing and trying to obsess over every single action that may or may not relate to Anti by having it all be a mystery.

Sometimes Chase wondered if maybe he and his brothers could make use of the community’s eagle-eyed observations that tend to hit right most of the time to help them find out a way to save Jack. He’s lost count of how many times they’ve managed to notice something that he hasn’t noticed such as a little subtle glitch on the video’s audio, a flash of someone in the back of his facecam, or even changes in the description or titles of the videos that was definitely not made by him.

Their skills would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t downright frightening for how obsessed they seem to be with Anti.

He reblogged a few cool artworks and edits with little words of encouragement under their captions. Then he’d like some of the little sneak peeks to the daily lives of the community members that always made him smile because at least these funky little people are doing their best to live. It’s a nice reminder and boost to the morale that there was a reason why he was also doing this other than to keep the channel up and running for Jack’s comeback.

Chase stretched out his arms and legs with a jawbreaking yawn as he felt the sleepiness settle in. He looked at the time on his phone and made a face when he saw how late  it was. No wonder his eyes were starting to blur with sleep. He decided to set his alarm clock up for the morning. He’s gotta wake up early to prepare himself to go under the Jack mask and record a video after all.

The tired man scooched underneath the blanket, covering himself up to his bed and curled up into a tight ball while tugging the sheets around him. A spark of pride welled up inside his chest when he thought back on how he managed to do a little bit of productivity in tidying up his bedroom. While he definitely started out the day rough and numb, he managed to salvage it by the end.

At the end of the day, it’s these teeny tiny baby steps that would bring you much farther than you thought when you look back in the future. So do not sell yourself short, Chase Brody.

Never forget that we are always proud of you no matter how inconsequential you believe your little progress was.

Henrik’s gruff but gentle voice echoed through his mind, easily drowning out all the insecurities and dark voices sneering at him for his pride. For the first time in a long while, Chase fell asleep with a faint but sincere smile on his lips.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Maybe you should’ve jumped higher for that trick shot so that you wouldn’t have fallen over and broken your foot,” Jack’s voice shook with silent laughter as he leaned on Chase’s side while they both watched Henrik scrambling around, fussing over Chase’s foot that was placed in a cast, and fluffing up pillows to squeeze behind Chase’s back while he’s relaxed on the couch and worrying his head over whether his broken foot was raised high enough.

Henrik spun around and levelled a death glare towards his creator who instinctively raised both hands in a show of harmlessness, the doctor bared his teeth at him, “If you keep encouraging him to do more reckless acts I will break your own leg.”

Chase coughed and choked on a laugh and gave his doctor older brother a smile full of innocence and sunshine when he swiftly turned around to glare at him as well while Jack sputtered in the background. Jackie was dying on the floor. He sounded like he was about to upgrade from his booming cackling to wheezing, dying laughter.

“Wh— You took an oath to never harm another human when you became a doctor!” Chase turned his head to look at Jack when he felt him sitting up straight and leaning forward with an outraged look.

“I did no such thing,” Henrik snubbed. “It was whichever fake Schneeplestein that magic made to explain my existence in this universe that made such an oath.”

“You’re still a doctor!” Jack yelled vehemently, slapping a hand on his knees.

Henrik sniffed. He looked down at Jack from behind his nose and made him feel like he was some worm tainting the bottom of his shiny shoes. Then the doctor dramatically turned his back on the pouting man obviously giving him the cold shoulder.

“Chaaaase,” Jack twisted his body to ‘sob’ into his best friend’s shoulder. “Henny’s being mean to me again!”

“There, there,” Chase snickered as he patted the older man’s curly hair. “I won’t let the big bad doctor bully you anymore.”

Jack turned his head so that his cheek was pressed on top of Chase’s shoulder and he stuck his tongue out at Henrik who rolled his eyes back at him.

A massive white maine coone glided into the chaotic living room, jumping up on the back of the couch, and strolled over to smack Jack’s face with his outrageously long and fluffy tail—while ignoring the annoyed yelp ‘Marvin!’ before the poor man started sneezing and cursing the magician’s existence—as he slid down a bemused Chase’s torso into his lap. He rubbed his fluffy body against his little brother’s chest with a loud meow for his greeting.

“Hey to you too, Marvy,” Chase chuckled as the cat began to purr.

Marvin’s purr grew louder until he was practically like a growling motorcycle and arched his spine when Chase’s fingers stroked him from the bridge of his pink nose down to his tailbone. The heavy white cat kneaded his claws into Chase’s baggy shorts before circling around—ignoring Chase’s agonized groan at his weight—and curling up into a smug self-satisfied ball on his lap.

“You satisfied now, Drama Queen?” Chase teased the magician with a fond smile while he scratched the cat on the perfect spot behind his ears. “I think we should put your cat form on a diet. You’re getting pretty heavy.”

The cat nipped at his fingers with a hint of a warning bite but Chase just tapped his prickly older brother on his nose as a gentle reprimand. He only got a bunch of annoyed chattering for his daring gall to touch his majesty.

“Marvin, you better not bite anyone again,” Henrik dryly warned the magician who hissed at him. “Don’t think I can’t sedate you into going to the vet and getting you neutered.”

Marvin let out an offended yowl and attempted to stuff his massive unit of a body under Chase’s shirt, drawing giggles from the man who tried pushing his fluffy butt away as his squirming body dragged his soft fur over his ticklish stomach.

“Marvin, you fucker!” Chase squealed and tried to pull out the squirming cat who somehow managed to find the perfect position and perk out only his head from under his shirt. “Really? You’re going to subject me to your stinky butt for the entire movie marathon?”

His only response was a thick tail that thwapped his sputtering face.

“Aww… It’s just his way of showing you his love, Chasey-wasey,” Jackie giggled without looking up from his phone. “Also I can’t blame Marv for wanting to snuggle up to you. You’re like a portable heater slash teddy bear.”

“Yeah well, I’d say Marvy would be like a teddy bear too if it weren’t for the fact that he weighs like a rock on top of my kidneys,” Chase deadpanned before smacking Marvin’s back through his shirt irritably. “Use your claws on me again and I’ll neuter you myself without the help of a vet.”

Jack snickered at the irritated mewl from the cat while Henrik huffed and rolled his eyes at their antics. The doctor sat on the right couch seat and pulled the side lever up so that he could fully recline his body and feet. Jack leaned over and grabbed the remote from the table in front of him and Chase.

“Everybody finally settled down for our movie night?” He asked, just to make sure so that nobody would suddenly whine in that childish sort of voice that he didn’t wait for them again.

coughJackiecough

Jackie gave him a thumbs up and finally looked up from his phone. He was laying on his stomach on the blanket he set on the floor with a variety of pillows forming his nest around him. His own bowl of popcorn and a massive bottle full of Sprite was set in front of him.

Chase makes an agreeing grunt while he leaned on him on his side, taking care not to move his cast while Marvin chirruped from under his shirt, his little head poking out directing his nose to the bowl of popcorn on the table. Henrik just shrugged and gestured his head towards the screen.

“Just get on with it. If anybody was not ready I am sure that they’ll be letting out some godforsaken complaint through their loud mouths,” Henrik scathingly said but his eyes glimmered with laughter, taking off the bite from his words. He merely arched an eyebrow at everyone when they childishly stuck out their tongues at him.

Jack huffed and shook his head at the brotherly banters. No family activity would be the same without these chaotic preparations and quips from the others. He pressed play on the remote and started the movie. He sat back on the couch with Chase, his smile unconsciously growing wider when the youngest ego scooched closer to him.

…

“Is he asleep?” Henrik asked in a hushed tone as he craned his neck to look at Chase’s face which was hiding away against Jack’s side.

Jack nodded with a gentle smile and pressed a finger against his lips in the universal sign for silence. He slowly began to shift himself so that he could move Chase into laying down fully on the couch and for his head to be placed on his lap. Henrik assisted him, carrying the younger ego’s legs into the couch and made sure that his injured foot was raised with a few pillows propped underneath and around it to keep it from moving.

Chase made a soft noise and pressed his cheek on Jack’s stomach while the older man petted his head, idly rubbing a thumb against the healed over scar that would ache from time to time especially when Chase is particularly emotional. The sleeping man sighed contentedly in his sleep and murmured something far too unintelligible for either man to hear. Henrik grabbed one of the free blankets remaining to place it over Chase, tucking him under the warm sheets.

“I’ll get the other blankets—Marvin!” Henrik hissed as the cat that had been watching them from the table, slowly walked over to jump on Chase’s chest. Chase’s breath hitched but thankfully he didn’t wake up. Chase wrapped his arms around the cat who had stretched himself out over his little brother’s body and tucked his head under his chin. “You’re so lucky he’s a heavy sleeper. If you woke him up I would have shaved you, you needy cat.”

The cat flicked his ears at Henrik and made a show of nuzzling the bottom of Chase’s chin and purring almost as loud as a starting motorcycle to spite the doctor by showing just how comfortable he was in his makeshift bed.

Jack rolled his eyes at the little drama queen before he looked back at Henrik with a pleading smile, “Blankets please? It’s pretty chilly around here at night.”

Henrik sighed and nodded. He carefully maneuvered himself out of the crowded living room. Jackie had spreaded out his entire body on his own side of the room, snoring lightly while drool trailed down his cheek. Henrik made sure that he didn’t touch on the territory of the unknowing human venus flytrap who’d snap his arms around your legs in a flash the moment you stepped within his area of attack. Last time one of them (poor Marvin… despite screaming and trying to squirm out of those iron arms...) fell for that trap, they had to deal with a clingy as a leech Jackie for the entire night.

He went upstairs to grab extra blankets and pillows for him and Jack since someone (Jackie…) hoarded most of them for their nest and one of the original blankets was placed over Chase. When he went back down, Marvin was already asleep, his cat body slowly moved up and down to his rhythmic breathing. Jack was staring down at Chase’s face with a blank look which generally meant that the man was probably thinking something that was bothering him again.

As he passed by his creator, he gave the man a gentle smack on the back of his head with his elbow. “This is not the time for complicated thoughts. This is family time.”

Jack jolted at the hit and his voice, turning his head to make a silly face at him.

“I know, I know, I just can’t help it, Hen,” Jack sighed and patted Chase’s head. He peered at the doctor when he saw what he was carrying. “Huh, you got those from the closet in the hallway?”

“Where else would I get it? Here,” Henrik made Jack lean over so that he could place two pillows on the back of his neck. “Support for your neck.”

“Thanks,” the other man gave him a thumbs up with one of his free hands. “Can you uh place my blanket over my lap? I’ll move Chase’s head a bit.”

“Wait your impatient butt. I am just going to move around the couch.” Henrik said as he walked over to his own spot to drop his pillows and blanket before moving over to Jack.

Jack carefully lifted Chase’s head so that Henrik could slip the blanket over his lap. He absentmindedly rubbed a thumb over the sleeping man’s head when his brows furrowed at the movement and he looked like he was about to wake from his sleep. Thankfully, he settled down once he was returned to his previous position only he curled closer to his creator’s warmth.

“Ah man, Chase really is the best little brother I could ever ask for,” Jack sighed with a fond smile softening the weariness from his face.

Henrik snorted, giving Chase a little pat on his head before he walked back to his couch chair and dropped his body on it.

“And you say you don’t play favorites,” Henrik accusingly narrowed his eyes at Jack who stuck his tongue out at him.

“And I’ll keep saying it no matter how much you guys accuse me of it,” Jack grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The doctor rolled his eyes before spreading his own blanket over him. He turned over on his side and snubbed Jack with his back, ignoring the ‘Oh real mature, Henrik!’ that Jack shot towards him quietly.

“Goodnight Mister McLoughlin,” Henrik said in the snobbiest tone he could muster.

“Are you seri— Oh whatever, goodnight to you too, Doctor Schneeplestein.” He heard Jack huff and mutter something incomprehensible with his distance under his breath.

Henrik stifled a smile and his chuckle as he felt his creator fake pouting even with his back turned against him.

As he closed his eyes, he was highly aware of the sounds of soft breathing (or snoring in Jackie’s case…) coming from everyone in the room and he thinks that it’s the most beautiful sound he has ever heard his entire life.

He wished that he could stay in this single moment in time for as long as he wanted, to engrave it in his memories for when the nights are cold and when deep regrets are keeping him awake.

0-0-0-0-0

“Testing! Teeeeesting… Alright, the mic and audio seems to be okay,” Chase squinted at his face cam, flicking a finger in front of its lens to get its autofocus clearing up on his face. He brightened up when the camera finally focused just right! “Attaboy! Now we can finally start recording.”

He’s done his vocal warmups before he started setting up everything and even made sure that the house was nice and locked up and made sure that he doesn’t need to go for a pee break for one to two hours. Those moments are always a hassle and awkward for him and Robin to cut out. Not to mention it’s always a bit of a distraction especially when he is finally in the zone for the camera.

He also has his own lil water container filled with delicious fresh water in front of him, out of the camera’s point of view, just so he could freshen up his voice from all the screaming and yelling that he was about to do. While voice cracks are fun to jump from from a comedic point, it’s not nice to be known as the loudest Irish youtuber who still has voice cracks like a teenager going through puberty.

The phone has been muted and set on vibrate, and the games have been pulled up and listed on his desktop ready for recording!

Today’s video recording theme is… those medical surgery related games.

It had been an idea that had been drifting around his mind for a while but he didn’t have the mental and emotional energy to bother with the vivid reminders of his missing older brother. Maybe this was just another way of spiting Anti for what he had done to him a two days ago in his vulnerable state just like how his sudden burst of energy fueled him to prove that he wasn’t completely useless all alone by tidying up his wreck of a room in the middle of the night.

He knew that Anti seems to have it out for Henrik just as personally as he has it out for Jack since any mention of his brother has the demon hissing and spitting rage which he found rather peculiar since he’d have thought that the demon would be using what he’s doing to Henrik as another one of his taunts and considering he probably has the upper hand over the doctor right now. He stopped mentioning Henrik after that one moment when Anti had gone frighteningly still with his eyes glowing bloody murder towards him and then disappeared for a few hours. When he came back, he was covered in blood and Chase wisely didn’t ask him from whom it came from.

Since then, they never talked about it although Anti’s presence would be unbearable whenever he played any medical related game since it always felt like the demon was breathing down his neck (although knowing his luck he probably did but since he didn’t care enough to turn around and see that horrifying sight he’d like to believe that it never happened) just daring him to mention anything about his beloved doctor of a brother. The only time Anti made any comment about Henrik was literally that postcard hack on tumblr. That was a hell of a thing to open the app to.

He could feel the smugness rolling off Anti’s shadowed corner in waves during that day and he had to stop himself from vaulting over the couch to grab the demon who’s been pestering (severe understatement, he knows but still—) him for months and demand what the fuck he’s planning with the postcard.

Anyway, now that Anti wasn’t here (and thank fuck for that) he’s free to record and post this fun little thing for the channel. Honestly, it’s pretty odd to have the past two days of complete silence from Anti but it was also extremely refreshing and absolutely rejuvenating for his spirit. Oh, he didn’t doubt the ‘Always Watching’ threat from his last note but this was the most peaceful and private he’s been for the past months.

Chase adjusted the headset over his ears, checking to make sure that it wasn’t uncomfortable, before he stretched out his arms and body for the long recording session, releasing a satisfied groan at the obscenely loud cracks that his joints made with the stretch.

Okay… Close your eyes…

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

In the next few hours, Chase Brody will not exist. Instead, another man will take his place. How would he react to certain things and events? How would he act out a carefree skit of a parodied impersonation of their resident doctor?

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Turn the chair around and…

Click

Something snaps into place as his lips stretched itself out into a familiar crooked goofy grin at the sound of his mouse clicking. The metaphorical mask slipping over his face felt so much more natural than when it was taken off at this point in time. He swung his chair around and greeted the invisible audience on the other side of the screen.

“Hello and welcome back! I am Doctor Jacksepticeye,” he both recognizes and doesn’t recognize the face that was looking back at him on the recording screen, “and welcome to my ER!”

It was easy, always so so easy to step into his shoes, to become someone who is dearly beloved by so many people, to become someone who has inspired this community to follow him. Every time he slips this mask on for the screen he always experienced this high knowing that for once he won’t be someone who was miserably alone and useless to his loved ones. If he immersed himself deeper into this mask, he could even believe that the people are seeing him and not Jack but that’s a thought that he’d brush off the moment it lingers at the surface of his mind.

However, while it was highly tempting to keep the mask up even by his lonesome, it always faded away the moment the camera stopped and left him far more drained than before he started recording.

Stop. Don’t think about that now.

Chase does not exist at this very moment.

Only Jack remained with that cheerful smile on his lips.

Finally, he allowed himself to fade into the background and push that persona forward to take his place.

In the next blink, Chase closed his eyes and Jack opened them.

0-0-0-0-0

The deep blue sky stretched over the horizon.

It was much too big. Much too hopeful.

It was too much for him who has been stuck in the darkness with no one but Him for company—

No.

No.

Do not think.

Not yet.

Later. Yes, later. In safety. In his family’s safety and warmth.

The door had been unlocked. Why? Why had it been unlocked?

Then he was running, stumbling about in the abyss like a drunk and suddenly there was light—

It had been too bright, too warm on his cold skin that it felt like it was burning his flesh off like the hot po—

No. Regroup. Stop.

Do. Not. Think. About. It.

He ran and ran and ran amongst the crowd, deaf to the rude words that had been tossed towards his way when he crashed into someone and jumped away as if he had been shocked, deaf to the concerned strangers’ questions before he shoved their wandering hands away.

Don’t touch him. Don’t fucking touch him!

It hurts. His eyes hurt. His ears hurt.

It’s so loud. He missed the blissfully subtle static that always kept him company in his cell—

Stop speaking… Stop speaking! Shut up… Shut up. Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup—

The colors began to shift around him and they… became familiar? Familiar streets. Familiar names.

There was that sound from the annoying dog barking from a neighbor’s—

Ah.

This must be another one of his games.

The front garden was unkempt. Why was it unkempt? There were no flowers blooming from the bushes that looked as dry and thirsty as he normally felt. His little brother loved—loves his gardening hobby. He loves seeing the smiles of the passersby and his family when they see the colorful flowers he’d carefully tend to every week.

Yes, this was just further proof that this was all an illusion. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Him to stop this farce. However, he knows that he must continue the show lest He becomes angry for his disobedience once more.

He walked on. There. The front door was in front of him. Instinctively, he reached into his coat’s pocket (since when had he started wearing this coat?) and of course, of course, the key was there.

The door is opened and he is greeted by a cold, silent hou…

No.

Wait.

He looked up. There was a voice. It was faint but there it is.

Which show was he putting on this time? A replay of that fateful day? Or perhaps it was another one of those games where He makes him pretend that he was finally free?

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He walked up the stairs.

One.

Two.

Three.

The fourth door.

The Recording Room.

What sort of cruel joke awaits him behind this door he wondered?

He was tired. So so tired… Perhaps if he pretended to be the brave, cool headed doctor that he had been He would grow bored of this show quick.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The ice on the doorknob was a welcome sting to his constantly wandering, constantly moving mind. It keeps him still. Keeps him in the moment just like all of the pain—

Take all the shattered pieces of your bravery now, good doctor, and let it all out…

The door was flung open and the familiar—unfamiliar man in the room spun around in his chair and looked up at his heaving, shuddering body with a wide-eyed look. Yes, that face—that impossible face was the face of a comatose man as He often taunted him during their sessions— sat in front of him just told him that this was all just another one of His cruel mind games.

A flash of anger.

A dash of fear.

Then the ridiculous words streamed out of his lips as he pointed a shaking accusing finger angrily, fearfully at the shocked mirage before him.

“I-I am the good doctor,” he started, his voice growing louder to mask the racing, thundering heart attempting to rip itself out of his chest, “and that is my chair!”

“... Henrik?” At that trembling, fragile voice, the mirage shattered and suddenly his baby brother, the one who has always looked up to him like he knew all of the secrets held within this universe… the younger brother who had always, always undervalued his own existence… The baby brother that he so dearly loved was looking up at him, no traces of the impossible man were left behind. “Henrik, is that you?”

And for a second, he allowed his guard to drop, allowing the fragile piece of hope in his chest to wriggle up the surface of his beaten heart.

“Help me,” he begged. His voice was painfully raw and vulnerable as it clawed itself out of his throat.

Then as if he was just a puppet whose cruel puppeteer cut his strings out of nowhere just because he had grown bored of his broken toy, he crumpled forward, all remaining energy in his pathetically weak body dropping to a complete zero, and his legs toppled underneath him. He braced himself to meet the cold unforgiving floor of his cell while his warden cackled at his show of weakness…

But it never came.

Instead, someone caught his body and he was suddenly engulfed in that familiar softness and warmth as two arms gently but firmly wrapped themselves around his bony waist.

“I gotcha… I gotcha big bro. I gotcha,” Henrik closed his eyes and in a fit of broken exhaustion allowed himself to believe in this dream.

“Don’t let this be a dream,” he whimpered. “Don’t… Don’t let me wake up—”

“Shh… It’s not a dream. You’re home. You’ve come home. I promise,” he shuddered at that almost comforting voice and the hand that was stroking the back of his head tenderly. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Chapped lips were brushed over his forehead and he slipped away into the familiar abyss.

Oh how the good doctor dearly wished that he could remain in this single moment of time rather than face the cruel reality of what was waiting for him the next time he opened his eyes.

[harianadimples]

Highlight of My Life

Warning: none 3.0k+: fluff, university!au (harry is a fashion design major; y/n is an english major)

| – | – | – |

“So, what’s so special about this new collection? Don’t you already have like three of her highlighters at home?” Harry asks, sounding genuinely curious and interested.

“New shades. I love the formula. I’m wearing hustla baby on my cheeks today, see,” she says as she tilts her cheek for Harry who nods intently. “I like that one, it’s like subtle. Makes me look like a glazed donut. I love glazed donuts,” he trails off.

“It’s my every day, go-to, I want to blind everyone I encounter on campus, highlighter,” she laughs. “I’ve hit pan on that one I might get the mini of it. It comes with a mini gloss bomb you can have so you can stop stealing mine.”

“Thanks. There’s that highlighter I really liked, the one you put on my eyes before,” Harry says.

“Trophy wife?”

“Yeah, but no, I was thinking of the pink one?”

Confusion sticks to them both. They stare at each other for a while, combining both their sleep-deprived braincells together to figure out what Harry was talking about.

“Highlight of My Life”

or

The one where Fenty Beauty is launching a new highlighter collection and the Sephora downtown is doing an event for it where the first hundred people get a goodie bag so Y/N makes Harry wake up at 6 a.m. for its 10 a.m. opening. The things Harry does for the person he loves.

-:-:-:-

“Remind me why you had me wake up at six in the morning and drive you all the way downtown on my off day?”

Harry’s tone is chastising, which was amusing to Y/N when they were pulling out of their shared apartment, but now that they’ve been sat in the car for a while and it’s probably the fiftieth time he’s asked, she’s a little annoyed. Still, she can’t fully commit to being annoyed by Harry for too long. As she looks up from her phone, turning to Harry who’s looking at her expectantly for an answer, his tired eyes sunken in by his interrupted sleep and his mouth looking all pink and plushy, she finds herself completely endeared by his prettiness and quickly lets it go.

Harry gulps down the rest of his coffee, chasing the dryness of the caffeinated beverage with more gulps from her water. He’s watching her, and can tell from how her eyes momentarily dart to the right of her, that she’s thinking of something witty to say.

“Cause you love me,” Y/N pouts in a sweet, singsongy voice, the voice he’s more than aware that she uses when she’s playfully manipulating him into doing something she wants, such as, waking up at six in the morning to drive her downtown.

Harry’s eyes quickly express how nonsensensical her response is though she still finds him endearing, which makes her press her thumb over his puffed, water-filled cheeks. “And,” she continues, “because Rihanna is launching a new highlighter collection and the Sephora downtown is holding an event for it. If you’re within the first hundred people there you get a goodie bag.”

“Will Rihanna be there?” Harry asks. His question resonates through a single monotone note.

“No, I think it’s just the store doing something for the collection launch. She does proper parties for influencers and celebrity friends ahead of releases too but, there’s no way we’d get invited to one any time soon,” she sighs.

“When’s the store opening?” Harry asks, glancing at the time on the dashboard. “We’ve been here since eight-twenty.”

“Ten,” Y/N sighs as she glances at her phone again. “At least we got here early enough before a line started. We can eat while we wait.” She gestures to their breakfast: two large coffees and a sandwich to share between them because $7.99 for an ‘Artisan’ sandwich sounded almost blasphemous for the two uni students.

“When you see someone approaching the front, forming some kind of line, let me know,” she says as Harry nods, taking a bite from the sandwich as he looks to the front of the car.

“So, what’s so special about this new collection? Don’t you already have like three of her highlighters at home?” Harry asks, sounding genuinely curious and interested.

“New shades. I love the formula. I’m wearing hustla baby on my cheeks today, see,” she says as she tilts her cheek for Harry who nods intently. “I like that one, it’s like subtle. Makes me look like a glazed donut. I love glazed donuts,” he trails off.

“It’s my every day, go-to, I want to blind everyone I encounter on campus, highlighter,” she laughs. “I’ve hit pan on that one I might get the mini of it. It comes with a mini gloss bomb you can have so you can stop stealing mine.”

“Thanks. There’s that highlighter I really liked, the one you put on my eyes before,” Harry says.

“Trophy wife?”

“Yeah, but no, I was thinking of the pink one?”

Confusion sticks to them both. They stare at each other for a while, combining both their sleep-deprived braincells together to figure out what Harry was talking about.

“Oh, Wattabrat!” Y/N says with realization.

“Watt-a-brat. Yeah that one. I just love the name. She’s brilliant with the shade names,” he says. “If I could I’d name a shade Styles.”

“Just Styles?” Y/N raises an eyebrow at her boyfriend who nods thoughtfully. “Yeah it’s not product-specific and it’s kind of a great name, don’t ya think?”

“Well, I think the word Styles existed long before you did,” she says, laughing, “but it’s very on-brand for you to name something after you if you ever consider expanding your fashion brand into more business ventures. But you should call the full collection itself ‘Styles’. It’d be like when a musician releases a self-titled album. And the songs in this case would be the shade names, and they can be named after things important to you or whatever you think sounds cool.”

Harry nods thoughtfully, staring at the cup as Y/N drinks from her coffee. He waits until it’s far enough from her face to take it from her and drink from it as well. She takes it back before he’s even done, smiling as she playfully pushes his outstretched hand away. He sighs and takes their sandwich and bites into it.

“Did you finish the paper for Rockwell’s class?” Y/N asks him.

“Yeah, I stayed up until one writing it. Haven’t gotten a chance to edit it yet, I planned on doing it later, but… maybe you could look at it first?” Harry figures he might as well ask, otherwise what’s the point in having a girlfriend who majors in English literature.

“Sure,” Y/N nods, frowning sympathetically as she hands him her coffee. She recalls the night before, going to bed before him while he sat at their kitchen island hunched over his laptop. The screen, even at its lowest level, still bright enough to cast a silhouette on his figure. She remembers not hearing him come in, but feeling the bed dip all of a sudden as he indiscreetly fell into bed, throwing his leg (and cold feet) over her legs while his arm draped over her middle.

Y/N could tell Harry’s been stressed lately because of midterms. She figures it’s especially difficult since it’s their final year and naturally everything is that more stress inducing. There’s few areas here and there where Y/N can lend her assistance and support since she’s in a different program.

Harry is in the fashion design program so he hardly has any courses in the English program, but they happen to be taking The Language of Love, Sex and Gender english course this semester and are in the same class. Despite them both being natural creatives this is her comfort zone and where she naturally shines. Harry used to have a habit of over-saturating his brand descriptions with hyperbolic terms and (sometimes) useless jargon that wouldn’t captivate the eye of a prospective consumer. She does nothing but read and write for her english courses, and occasionally prepares presentations or paragraphs for class discussions, so, if she can help Harry in any way, it’s helping him with his writing. She merely helps him rephrase his thoughts from a different perspective she felt would be more hard-hitting. In return, he gives her style advice and occassionally styles her himself (he has an eye for pieces that suit her and flatter which are her weaker qualities). Harry swears that her dedication to an oversized sweater of his that she wears nearly every day with a pair of boots is the bane of his existence.

They had met in the School of Fashion Design building at the end of their second year.

A mutual friend of theirs in the photography program had included several images of her in a pop-up exhibition held by several students from the program, and she was invited to attend. Harry had come as well and was with a girl he’d been seeing for a while. Harry wouldn’t be able to tell you the name of the girl he’d been seeing, because he swears that the moment he saw Y/N he’d fallen in love. She’d come in a Guy Fieri type collared shirt that was about five-sizes too big, and black platform shoes.

‘I liked that you didn’t give a fuck,’ Harry once explained when she had asked him why he became interested in her after they became friends.

Yet she remembers that he often teased her for her sense of style, taunting her for her lack of pants (she wears bike shorts underneath) or the lack of change to her silhouette (what, she likes it, why change it), but now she relays the same comments in a self-deprecating way. Somewhere between then and now their sense of humour had evolved, as did their relationship. Her style for one thing has evolved, but she’s still dedicated to her brand of oversized clothing for their comfort and Harry hardly teases her except for when he needs a lead-in to ask her to fuck him.

‘I don’t remember ever making fun of you for never wearing pants when you wear my clothes out,’ Harry would say, but his words held as much truth as a ‘my truth’ post-scandal video.

It never actually bothered her, because she knew from being friends with Harry for a while that his humour tended to lean on ignoring the obvious and being heavily sarcastic. Like the time she was nervous about showing him her work and had him read a poem she wrote in her senior year of high school which won her an award, and he told her it was ‘terrible’ and that she should consider dropping out.

‘I couldn’t write this good until this year, I swear,’ Harry had scoffed.

‘This well…’ she had corrected him.

Their dynamic was pretty much set in stone that day too. Y/N tended to be the one riddled with self-doubt and low self-esteem from her overthinking, overly intuitive brain making her second guess a lot of things, while Harry brings out what it’s true in what she believes about herself by ignoring the obvious, making her think for herself; a surprisingly productive way to get her to remember her worth and talent. And sometimes, when he’s being too cocky, she’ll knock him down a peg.

But clearly their dynamic has evolved as well, because she finds herself being the one to remind Harry ‘who the fuck he is’ (as Harry fondly says when he’s in this position trying to uplift her) and Harry’s humour has spread to her as well. She doesn’t spare any opportunities to tell Harry that she loves him, and to remind him that she’s only with him because ‘one day he’ll be a fashion designer for socialites and the Hollywood elite, and she’ll take her one connection and run with it straight into Keanu Reeves’ arms’ (obviously she’s only kidding…unless…).

In the one class they share the midterm is a take-home exam in the form of an essay question. Harry’s a decent writer, having been cordially assisted by Y/N before they were dating until now, to better himself and tweak his style to be less robotic and more human. He really shouldn’t be worried about doing poorly on the paper, but his fashion design senior project is part of his requirement to graduate and has drained him of most of his creative energy, making it difficult to piece together intellectual thoughts into a riveting paper.

His brain must look like a prune by now. He mustered whatever was left and squeezed it onto that horrendous paper. He just knows it’s horrendous. He didn’t have the heart or energy to re-read it, opting instead to get some sleep, forget about it for the day, then return to it in the afternoon.

Of course now he’s here in the car, having been woken up at six in the morning by his overly perky girlfriend cutting off his air supply, yammering on about some makeup thing. All cynicism aside, it’s making for a reasonable distraction for not working on his paper. He’d still prefer to be at home, asleep, cuddling his girl, but he figures any way he spends time with her is good enough. He hardly sees her during the day given that they’re not in the same program, but he sees her every night which is not among his list of complaints.

Realistically, she could have come downtown alone, but Harry and her both knew how much she hated commuting. It seemed really important for Y/N to be here, who Harry knew was also dealing with her own slew of stressful days full of due dates and expectations, so he caved.

‘Makeup is just really therapeutic to me. When I do my skincare and do my makeup, I’m kind of meditating at the same time. When I see the finished product I feel confident and ready to take on the day… once I get my iced coffee, of course,’ Y/N explained to him once when he’d asked her about her interest in it.

He knows most of that was true though he recalls one time, finding her in their bathroom, sitting in their sink, sobbing while doing her makeup, blending her tears into her skin. It was quite the picture for Harry to see, and he’d taken off her makeup for her (against her insistence that she was fine and needed to finish getting ready) since it’d been ruined anyway, and decided that that day would be a mental-health day for her and brought her back to bed.

He re-did her skincare for her, sitting next to her body as she told him what products to use and in what order. He used mostly the length of his fingers and finger tips to work the products into her skin because his hands were much too large for her face and he was afraid of messing something up.

It somehow became a tradition for them to have a self-care day, pampering themselves with skin care, a bottle of white champagne and take-out from their favourite restaurant after one of them has a breakdown.

Harry reckons he’s due for one, but nothing has come up to push him over the edge yet. Sometimes, before he could exhaust his brain into that state, Y/N would figure out some way to save him from himself, reminding him who the fuck he is.

“Hey,” Harry hears Y/N speak. He looks up, humming thoughtfully as he meets her gaze. Her cheek rests on the seat as she speaks, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry smiles, as he kisses her. “Even though you woke me up at an ungodly hour.”

“Heeey,” she pouts, “you better keep that same energy with our baby.”

“You’re having my baby?” Harry’s mouth suddenly dries, and he must look foolish with his eyes bugging out the way they are, because what–.

“Oh– I was kidding!” Y/N quickly shakes her head as Harry shuts his eyes for a moment. “Y/N,” he mumbles, drawing out each syllable of her name.

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, trailing off, “it was a joke.”

“Please. I was about to have a full on breakdown,” Harry mutters.

“You don’t want a baby with me?” She asks candidly, looking at Harry who hasn’t opened his eyes. She wonders if he’s fallen asleep because he isn’t moving. She pokes his face to make sure. “Harry, don’t you wanna put a baby in me? You say that every time we have sex,” she teases him as Harry snorts through his nose, which her finger takes most of the damage from.

Harry’s eyes flutter open again at the sound of Y/N’s squealing as she wipes her hand on his leg. He laughs at the reaction he receives from her which brings that adorable angry pout on her face.

“Obviously the objective still stands, just not right now. I also, for a second, believed you had the audacity to tell me you’re pregnant while we’re waiting for Sephora to open because you wanted to be early for a Fenty Beauty goodie bag,” Harry says as Y/N continues to pout, though her brief frustration subsides, making her look more like a puppy yearning to be pet, so he kisses her pout figuring that’s close enough.

“Don’t worry, you’ll know I’m having your baby because I’m literally the worst at keeping secrets from you, or maybe you just know me too well,” Y/N says thoughtfully as she looks at Harry.

“I think the growing bump will give it away, but okay, that too,” Harry says.

“We won’t be apart like this once we graduate. You’ll have no excuse to avoid me, so you won’t miss the moment I find out I’m pregnant the way you missed me learning that I got that internship I was trying for,” Y/N laughs.

“I was stuck in traffic, and you’re much too impatient!” Harry shakes his head. “Whatever, we still celebrated that night though.”

“And the next morning,” Y/N hums.

“Hey, I think they’re here for the event,” Harry points towards a group of three, all of them wearing full-glam which sets of Y/N’s fight or flight response. Harry sees her entire demeanour change as she quickly grabs her water and stuffs it into her bag before kissing Harry goodbye. “I’ll go wait in line for us. You go ahead and get some more sleep and I’ll call or text you,” Y/N tells him in one breath before shutting the door.

He chuckles as he watches her run like Bambi ahead of the group, taking her place at the front of the line that formed once the three others stood with her. She throws him two thumbs up and a toothy grin, clearly proud of herself for being the first in line. It’s highly amusing to Harry to see her so excited, but mostly he’s happy to see her so happy.

| – | – | – |

Hello, thank you for reading ! I’m a huge supporter of the idea of Harry wearing makeup, from soft-glam to highly conceptual Louvre worthy looks, so this was written out of that love of mine and my wish to one day beat Harry’s face the house down boots. I was also inspired by my literal desire to buy more makeup, but can’t, because I have loans to pay back, bills to pay 💀 

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one ♡

+ masterlist

[acciotonystank]

I Can’t Change (Even If I Tried)

Read on AO3

“Hey, Mr Stark, you’re right-handed aren’t you?”

Tony glanced up front he repulsor he was working on to look at Peter, who was sitting at his desk in the lab, watching Tony with an unreadable expression on his face, waiting for his reply.

“Uh, yeah, kid. Why’s that?”

Peter glanced down at his hands and bit his lip in thought. “Most people are.”

“About ninety percent, I think,” Tony nodded. He wasn’t sure what was going through his head, but he knew that Peter was going somewhere with this, that he’d just have to be patient. 

“But the rest aren’t all left-handed. There’s some that are… ambidextrous, or- or even dextrous with their feet as well and stuff. And then there’s people that- that don’t have hands.” The last part came out like a question, as though he wasn’t really sure of what he was saying.

“Sure, bud.”

“And a lot of right-handed people think left-handed people are weird, and a lot of things aren’t set up for left-handed people. Like scissors and stuff. It’s like the default is right-handed. And ambidextrous people can usually get around that because they can use their right hand, but some people have varying levels of dexterity and if they’re more left-dominant then it’d still be annoying.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but yeah,” he shrugged.

“But the thing is, some people find ambidextrous less weird because they can at least use their right hand, but some find them more weird because how can you use both, right?”

Tony just nodded. Peter still wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were somewhere in the distance, lost in his head.

“So you’re not ambidextrous at all?”

Tony tilted his head in thought. “Well, I mean, there’s some things I prefer to do with my left hand in regards to tools and stuff, but usually that’s because I need my right hand for whatever else I’m holding. It’s definitely dominant, if that’s what you mean.”

Peter’s gaze shifted to look at Tony, and stared at him searchingly for a moment. “Do you think people who are ambidextrous are weird?”

Tony was beginning to grow impatient with the weird questions and just wanted Peter to get to the point. Nonetheless, he gave Pete a small smile and answered calmly, “No. I’d actually find it really helpful being dominant in both.”

“But then some people would think you’re weird.”

“I mean… it’s really not that weird.” he replied in confusion. “Besides, I don’t think people care all that much about hand dexterity.”

Peter let out a small huff of frustration and tugged at his hair. Tony frowned, stood up to move around the desks and planted himself into the chair directly opposite him. “What’s going on, Underoos? What’s with all the weird questions? I thought you were right-handed?”

“I am.”

Tony wanted to scream. “So… what’s going through your head then? Why the sudden interest in hands?”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at the pen he was fiddling with in contemplation. The seconds dragged on, but eventually he let out a heavy sigh and met Tony’s eyes.

“I’m bi.”

Tony blinked. “Oh. Oh. That’s what all that was about? Kid, that was cryptic as fuck.”

Peter looked away sheepishly. “Sorry, I just find it easier to explain myself with analogies sometimes, but that… that probably wasn’t the best analogy.”

“God, kiddo, don’t apologise. And no, that was great, I was just confused,” he let out a laugh.

“Although I’m still confused about the foot dexterity and the no hands thing.”

“Just ignore that,” Peter muttered. “I was trying to- never mind.”

“So… bi, huh?” Tony knew he was being awkward as fuck, but he wan’t sure how to react because he didn’t give a shit who Peter was into, as long as he was happy. He wasn’t sure if Peter wanted him to make it a big deal or if that was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He didn’t know if he was supposed to give the spiel about accepting him no matter what or if that would just make Peter wonder why he wouldn’t.

Peter just nodded, a very slight blush dusting his cheeks.

“How long have you known?”

“Um, like two years?”

“Who else knows?”

Peter bit his lip. “I told May last week.”

Tony raised his eyebrows in shock. “You’ve had this secret for two years? Oh, kid.”

“It’s not- it’s not what you think,” he shook his head quickly, his expression changing to a resolved confidence. “I knew that May wouldn’t care, neither would any of my friends and I knew that you wouldn’t either. I just… I actually kind of liked it? Being a secret, that is. It was mine, you know? And no one else’s. It felt like it was something I owned and I had full control of. And- and I’m comfortable with it. I wasn’t initially… but I am now and because of that and the knowledge that the people I care about wouldn’t care, I kind of felt out of the closet, even if I’m wasn't... is this making any sense?”

Tony could tell that Peter was frustrated with himself at not being able to express what he was trying to say, but he was pretty sure he got what he was trying to get across. He leant his elbows on the desk and offered him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, Pete, I think so. But… if you knew I’d be okay with it, why did you ask if I thought ambidextrous people are weird?”

“Well, deep down I knew, but ‘cause it’d been a secret for so long I was pretty nervous about letting it go and… I had to make sure.”

“That’s understandable,” Tony said slowly. “You don’t have to answer this but… what did you mean you weren’t initially comfortable with it? For how long?”

“Uh… probably about the first five months or so after I realised, I hated it,” Peter admitted, wringing is hands together. “I still don’t exactly know why, because May isn’t homophobic at all or anything like that, and I knew there wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just… I felt like a stranger to myself? Because I spent the first fifteen years of my life with a certain perception of myself and then when I realised I was bi, it felt like everything had changed. And it hadn’t - it’s just a part of me, it doesn’t define me. But I was still angry because even though I knew everyone I care about would accept me, I knew that other people wouldn’t. And I guess I was scared of what it would mean for me, in terms of how others saw me and… and I’ve always wanted a family, Mr Stark. But if I fell in love with a guy, then…”

“You can still have a family,” Tony frowned. “Even if you have a kid that isn’t yours, it doesn’t make them any less your child.”

Yikes, that was a little too real.

“I know that now,” Peter nodded calmly, before smiling. “And in any case, I don’t need to worry about that ‘cause I’m gonna die alone.”

“Pete,” Tony groaned. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘no more self-deprecating jokes’, but it’s part of my brand, Mr Stark.”

He just looked at him incredulously.

“Besides, like you can talk.”

“Hey, I balance it out with arrogance and narcissism.” Tony defended, leaning back to fold his arms over his chest. “I don’t think I’ve heard you compliment yourself once.”

“Yeah, well, moving on - one day I just kind of embraced it. You’d think it would be gradual but one day I just had this epiphany and I was like ‘I’m bi and ready to die and that’s fine’.”

“Yeah, the first part.”

“Casual suicidal comments are also part of my brand.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Peter just shot him an innocent smile.

“If you’ve kept this a secret for so long, can I ask, why now?”

“I guess I was just getting sick of it. I don’t want to watch what I say anymore and… I want to be able to talk about… that stuff.”

The thought of Peter talking to Tony about his love life - the he would feel comfortable discussing that with him brought a weird sense of warmth in his chest. Peter wasn’t his - not by a long shot. But he had come to accept the fact that he was Peter’s, that he would do anything in his power to protect the boy that he considered a son. Not that he would tell Peter that, though. He didn’t want to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, and he knew he was just a mentor. Which is why is surprised him so much to hear Peter imply that he would share that sort of personal information with him. It was too… parental and he wondered if he had completely misread their relationship. His shock must have shown on his face because Peter, obviously taking it the wrong way, blushed and nervously ducked his head.

“To- to May. You don’t- you don’t have to hear about th-that.”

“No, that’s not…” Tony let out a small sigh. “Kid, it’s not that I don’t want to hear about your love life, I’m just surprised that you would want to talk to me about it.”

Peter blinked in surprise and looked up at him. “O-oh. Okay then.”

He had that contemplative look on his face again and Tony leant forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Is there something you wanna tell me, Underoos?”

The immediate blush that came over the boy’s face answered his question and his lips quirked up in amusement. “I, uh… I may have a date this weekend,” he mumbled.

Tony grinned broadly. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugged, clearly attempting to be casual about it, but failing miserably. He was over the moon and it was adorably obvious.

“Look at you, all grown up. What’s their name?”

“I’m not telling you, otherwise you’ll just look him up,” he argued.

“Aha, so it’s a him. That narrows down the search.”

Peter’s eyes twinkled as he laughed. “There’s a lot of people in New York City, Mr Stark, that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Well, at least now I know they live in New York,” Tony pointed out.

“And like I just said, there’s a lot of people that live here.”

“A lot less that go to your school.”

“I never said he goes to my school!”

“Yeah, but you don’t really do much except come here and go to school and given that defensive reaction, I think it’s safe to say he does. And given your limited social skills, I’d have to assume that you met him in one of your classes, so I just need to pull up your-“

“Oh my god, Mr Stark, stop!” Peter groaned, slamming his head down on the desk.

Tony just laughed and ruffled his hair. “I’m only teasing you, kiddo - it’s fun. But in all seriousness, you gotta tell me where you’re going and text me every hour so I know he hasn’t hurt you.”

“No! Knowing you, you’ll put on a disguise and stalk us.”

“I would not!” he argued, but Peter just looked at him. “Fine, but at least text me every hour so I know you’re okay, alright? And I know you don’t want to hurt people but if he starts get handsy-“

“Mr Stark!” Peter wailed in protest, burying his face in his hands. “Fine, I’ll text you, but you gotta swear you won’t track me.”

“Ugh, fine,” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “But you gotta agree that you’ll call me when you get home and give me all the details. Well… not all the details if things get-“

“Please shut up.”

“Yep, okay.”

Peter continued to glare at him, but it didn’t last long and an excited smile gradually took over. “I’m going on a date,” he breathed.

“Yeah, you are, Mr I’m-going-to-die-alone,” Tony grinned, only for his face to fall slightly as panic took over Peter’s.

“Oh shit, what am I gonna wear?!”

“Alright, calm down, look who you’re talking to.”

“Oh god, I don’t know how talk to people, this is going to be a disaster!”

Peter was beginning to spiral, so Tony quickly grabbed his shoulders and shook them gently.

“Kiddo, relax, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“Nobody wants that,” he moaned.

Tony grimaced and jabbed Peter harshly in the chest.

“Ow! What the hell, man?”

“Cut that out right now. He said yes, didn’t he?”

“Well… I did. He asked me.”

“There you go, he asked you. He wants to take you on a date.”

Peter slumped over the desk, crossed his arms on the surface and rested his chin on them, looking up at Tony thoughtfully. “I don’t wanna mess this up.”

The man gave him a soft smile and ruffled his hair again. “Being yourself landed you this date and it’s gonna carry you through it.”

The corners of his lips twitched and he sat up. “Thanks, Mr Stark. You know, this is not where I thought this conversation would go.”

“What did you think would happen?” Tony frowned.

“I was pretty confident I’d chicken out, to be honest.”

He rolled his eyes but looked at the teenager fondly. “I’m glad you didn’t, bud.”

“Yeah… me too.”

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #163

Ah, summer. The season of no school, bright skies, pools, barbeques, and brief teenage romance.

Okay, so it’s not quite summer vacation yet. But nonetheless, the new season gives way for all sorts of fun shenanigans. None of it ever really enters “drama” territory (as dramatic as this series can be, that is), but as Tomoko’s last year of high school nears the halfway point, we discover that there’s still quite a bit we don’t know about our cast of knuckleheads.  

Chapter 163: Because I’m Not Popular, It’s Summer

I think it can be inferred that Tomoko is not a morning person, is she?

I think it can also be inferred that the once-aspiring NEET Tomoko is not a fan of hot weather. Better soak up that Vitamin D, girl.

Parasol Lady Asuka would like to battle!

Are parasols more prominent in Eastern culture? They’re not too terribly common where I’m from, but I imagine that may be a result of Japan having more of an aversion towards anything that would result in darker skin. Though I can also see it as a sort of fashion opportunity as well.

I believe those were umbrellas you used, Tomoko. But semantics aside, It’s pretty neat to see that Tomoko has finally reached that stage in her life where she can recognize her cringy chuunibyou phase. Long live those days of failing miserably at being a cool anime character.

Remember when Tomoko used to slut-shame the girls in her class? I detect a hint of hypocrisy there...

Gyaru!Asuka has already exploded on the imageboards, I guarantee it.

A part of me wonders why Tomoko grouped Kii-chan and Yuri specifically. They don’t have similar personalities or anything, but I see two possible reasons for it. One, Kii-chan and Yuri both got that mild-mannered, “exotic” look going on. But also, it may who Tomoko subconsciously believes she’ll see the most of over the summer.

We’ll, I mean...yeah. They would. It probably doesn’t help that Tomoko, with her lion’s mane, gives the impression of someone too physically active to care much about grooming. But as much as Tomoko derides the possibility of looking like a “sweaty day laborer”, I can’t deny that it’s not a bad look on her.  

The reason for that should be dead obvious by now.

The thing that amuses me is that Tomoko had no basis to start insinuating that Yuri’s a pervert. She just did, and has latched on to the idea ever since. While no doubt annoying for Yuri (even if it’s true), it’s kind of sweet if you see it as Tomoko wanting to have a shared interest with her.

I’m sure that compared to your freckled, “crazy lesbo” best friend, it isn’t. 

It’s funny how Nemo used to give off an air of someone who’s sexually acknowledgeable (at least to me) by virtue of being semi-popular. Now that we know’s she’s relatively pure, Tomoko will never let her live it down.  

Komiyama really is the most two-dimensional character in the series. And you know what?

It works.

In the education industry, we call it the “Perv Curve”.

Komiyama: Self-explanatory.

Hatsushiba: Anatomically-correct BDSM art must have originated from somewhere.

Katou: Yet even more evidence for the almost-openly perverted girl who casually says “vagina”.

Mako: ...wait, what?  

I’m so used to perfect scores being a badge of honor in Japanese media that it through me for a loop to see it suggested as anything else. Perhaps it’s an issue similar to Home Ec in that it’s not seen as educationally significant and only those really invested in the subject would master it. Either way, how lewd. 

Going back to Mako, I am genuinely shocked. Could Yuri’s oh-so-sweet bestie actually have a dirty side? Just when you think you know a gal! Naturally, she has just enough to shame to be embarrassed when its brought up, and I’m not ready to call out Mako as a pervert just yet. At least she has Yoshida to pat her on the back (ironic given the delinquent is now officially the purest one of the Kyoto Group).  

My Pokémon-obsessed mind can only see them as the Haramaku Elite Four, which, given the segment’s title, is highly unoriginal of me.

I’m 97% sure that Kawagoe’s that old geezer teacher we saw during Tomoko’s suspension. We even got that “strict about textbooks” continuity from way back when Tomoko forgot hers. 

All signs point to Minami’s-Faceless-“Friend”-#1 recognizing someone, most likely Yuri, during this little intersection. Curse you, Nico Tanigawa and your wonderful vagueness.

Nope. It’s not gonna work. Nuh-uh. Absolutely not. You aren’t going to make me feel sympathetic for Minami.

...

...

drat.

All that speculation has finally paid off cause we now have confirmation that Minami did(does?) in fact backbite Tomoko and Yuri. Thank goodness for Tomoko’s mental health that she never knew. But Minami’s got some nerve teasing Yuri when she’s actively Mako’s friend. Even more disturbing if Mako doesn’t realize it...

Between that tiny smile in the last panel and her wanting to tease, it’s pretty much certain that Minami’s-Faceless-“Friend”-#1 is not a pleasant person.

Birds of the same feather truly do flock together.

Okay, I cracked. Minami’s too adorable (and pitiful) right here.

I find it telling that even Minami’s “friends” know she’s a jerk. But if what goes around comes around, then Minami’s-Faceless-“Friend”-#1 might not realize she’s a jerk, too. Are most terrible people aware of their own terribleness? 

I don’t want to correlate jerkiness with irresponsibility but...here we are.

Man, that’s playing dirty. Suzuki is more than likely not that close to Minami, but any decent person wouldn’t just outright say “no” to a request like that. Of course, playing up her own supposed likeability through other’s basic kindness is Minami’s M.O.     

In manga and anime, that sort of haughtiness from cute, snaggletoothed girls is adorable in that “sigh, there she goes again” way.

In reality, it’s just annoying as shit. 

At first glance, Kayo’s just making an off-handed question, but my nit-picking mind says otherwise. I’m not sure how insistently heterosexual/romantic Japanese culture is towards male-female relationships, but would most teens show interest in a friend’s opposite gendered sibling? If say, Miyazaki had a little brother, would Kayo even ask Ucchi a question like that?

My theory is that Kayo is subtly trying to ascertain Ucchi’s sexuality. If the idea of Ucchi being gay for Tomoko is already planted in her head, then Kayo is using Tomoki as a “male version” for comparison. Ucchi’s already admitted to the Kuroki siblings being physically similar, so supposedly if she feels nothing towards Tomoki, then it’s Tomoko’s “femaleness” that attracts her.

This wouldn’t even be half as funny if Ucchi didn’t have an emoji face.

If only Komiyama could see this now...

Or, you know what? Maybe gender is irrelevant and Ucchi just has an indiscriminate gross fetish. 

Nemo’s ultra-realistic thoughts behind her cheery demeanor are always welcome.

For all those times that Tomoko pokes fun at Nemo for wanting to live out a slice-of-life school anime, she’s not exactly innocent either. More and more we see Tomoko trying to invoke those cliche moments, usually with little fear. It’s a rather far cry from when she’d try to pull anime tropes as a means to an end. Now she tries them out just for the sake of having fun, which is much more endearing.

In this particular trope, however, normally you’d have a guy and girl stuck inside, where they’d ultimately become more attracted to each other through the suspension bridge effect.

Of course, that’s assuming the boy and girl aren’t already together. If they are, then storage rooms are usually used as a hiding place to make out, but that obviously would never hap–

Oh.

FUCK.

If memory serves, this is the same couple who were flirting(?) back in the head patting chapter. A whole lot must of went down since then, eh?

Murphy’s Law.

It’s been quite a long time since we’ve had one of Tomoko’s infamous freakouts. And they say this series lost its roots.

A part of me wants to think that Nemo hears Tomoko but is pretending not to just to screw with her, but I don’t think she’d be that cruel. Even if it would be hilarious.

Just how far is your “it”, Tomoko. Making out? Groping? HANDHOLDING!?

What am I saying–she’s totally thinking sex.

It’s interesting to note that Tomoko just assumes that Yuri and Mako have never had a boyfriend. Sure, it may be implied given we’ve never seen them have this discussion before (that we know of), but it’s still pretty presumptuous on Tomoko’s part. My only reasoning is that Tomoko is trying to ally themselves over supposed “undesirability” like many self-deprecating friends do.

First off, I am not at all surprised given Mako’s personality.

What does surprise me is how totally betrayed Mako sounds. I can only assume that it’s a part of Mako’s past that she’d rather not reveal. While I don’t think Yuri meant any harm bringing it up, that kind of miscommunication goes to show that even though they’re best friends, Yuri and Mako don’t always see eye to eye.

Sounds like dating to me. Or rather, sounds like dating between high schoolers. At the risk of sounding like an old-ass millennial, dating between high schoolers rarely last, despite what shoujo manga suggests. Casual dating is exactly that–casual. They’re attracted to the novelty of dating, but once that initial thrill wears off, cue the breakup. 

Side note, I just realized that Yuri loosens up her tie. I love small details like that.

Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but Mako seems to be suggesting that girls, on the other hand, aren’t as desperate to get boyfriends. While that isn’t necessarily true, I do see that answer as mostly a convenient excuse for Mako, who may simply just not want to be in a relationship right now.

I can see the “Mako is straight/Mako is lesbian(for Yoshida)” War right now...   

Boy, it’s been a while since Tomoko has contemplated her own popularity, let alone try to be more popular. I guess it goes to show that even though Tomoko is more or less satisfied with her current status, she still sees herself below the bar of what constitutes “popular”. She does perpetuate feminine “purity” as an indicator of her societal value, but I’ll let it be–reality is not so kind, after all. 

One of the more prominent questions that Yuri’s fanboys have is “How come someone as pretty as Yuri isn’t more popular with the boys?”

Well, there you go.

In terms of looks, I never thought Yuri was that unattractive in-universe. She’s in that small niche of “plain and generic, but just cute enough that fans feel they could feasibly ask out a girl like her in real life”. So while it's reasonable to think that at least one person would show interest in her, it's Yuri’s personality that ends up putting them off. She probably isn’t ready to commit to the effort of dating and being someone’s girlfriend. nor does Yuri seem that interested to begin with if her texting habits are anything to go by.

I can’t for the life of me remember the name for it, but I believe that there’s this belief in Japan that says everybody (mostly boys) has that brief period in their life where they’re suddenly attractive and people want to date them. I imagine that Tomoko may actually reach that time in life sooner than she thinks.

PTSD TRIGGERED!! For the readers, I mean.

For real, though. What a comeback. Who would have thought that Kosaka, that guy who was introduced in Chapter FIVE would make his grand return? Normally, making a reappearance this late in the game would feel like an asspull, but it works because he was never meant to drastically affect Tomoko’s growth. He was just the spark, the first hint to show that people could actually befriend her. And for that, we salute you, Umbrella Dude.

It’s been, what? About two years since they last spoke, and he still remembers her? Impressive! Then again, I don’t think you're about to forget the girl who gave you a dogeza.

Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Tell Lies.

These moments where Tomoko is unabashedly a blushing schoolgirl are really precious because she isn’t “perfectly ditzy in that moe sort of way” about it. She gets riled up, sweaty, and unpleasant to watch. Which, ironically, is even more adorable just for how genuine it is.

Yeah, I’m sure the original said “dogeza”, but since there isn’t really a good English equivalent for it, I think “genuflect”...is still an odd choice.

Yuri, who always has her “Tomoko’s BS” meter on high, knows that Tomoko is screwing around when she calls it her “first”. Poor Mako, a now confirmed pervert who still thinks Tomoko is so amazing, thought the girl had popped the guy’s cherry. 

Friendly reminder that eventful summers are not necessarily pleasant summers. Though they could be with the right perspective...

So...Yuri vs. Kii-chan Death Battle when?

The most beautiful part about this ending is that there’s no second-guessing. No “maybe I won’t be lonely” or “I wonder if I’ll be lonely”. Just a very affirmative “I won’t be lonely”. Tomoko fully expects that she’ll be spending time with her friends this summer, and that confidence is more than I ever would’ve expected from Tomoko in previous years.

With summer vacation just over the horizon (don’t want to jump the gun), a medley of both happy, unhappy and delightfully awkward moments are sure to transpire. Just about the only thing Tomoko can plan is the unplanned, and I’ll be sure to get a front-row seat to watch it all.

[iluvtv]

Mom Guilt

Since today I will be tackling the taboo topics of both guilt and remorse I may as well start with my own caveat; I apologize.

I'm going to do some mom-splaining here...

Recently I watched the first ten episodes of both I'm Sorry and I Feel Bad. Both shows are Momedies and in case you hadn't noticed I am far more fluent in the more ego-centric brand of SWF Humor. No matter, intrigued by these curiously similar premises and my general obsession with female comedic powerhouses (including the women behind these titles) I assumed I had nothing to lose (ten hours on the sofa aside).

In full disclosure, while Andrea Savage's I'm Sorry wasn't exactly a show I fell for immediately, the stellar cast and the unapologetically hilarious style of Savage's parenting was enough to keep me watching. A clever choice indeed, by the final episode of Season One I felt pure sadness that I had no more episodes to watch and apologetic that I hadn't immediately understood the show's intentions. While my earliest notes state I am impressed by the cast they also indicate confusion towards the uneven tone.  Or to be as authentic as Savage my actual notations read as such:

"So many snappy quips.

Cast is epic...

Hope show gets better.

RN all just parents talking shit"

As I struggled to grasp I'm Sorry I also started dabbling with I Feel Bad. A show I found so problematic that no matter which lens I looked through I just wound up feeling... well, bad.

My ability to embrace the intentions behind I'm Sorry was aided through Savage's interview on Dax Shepard's (wonderful) podcast Armchair Expert. Her voice allowed a clear point of reference, making it much easier to deduce the ambitions behind her creative portrayal of just how humorous motherhood is. 

The feminist credo she passes to her daughter doesn't hurt the show's hilarity either. Savage's offbeat parenting hacks towards inciting female power seemingly misfire, all the while actually breeding a totally self-actualized kid who will proudly push back on the agenda. Amelia patiently explains to her mother "Ariel doesn't need a voice because she is the prettiest."

Savage makes this whole process just so darn relatable.

So, maybe I am just an ignorant audience and I still don't get I Feel Bad. Maybe a few interviews and episodes later I'll be espousing this show as the sleeper hit I knew about all along. But for now, as a woman who very much does not "have it all" I couldn't help but feel insulted by I Feel Bad's beautiful, successful protagonist, Emet. This is a mom who spends each episode lamenting her inability to "do it all" while somehow managing to round off each half hour by achieving whatever seemed implausible earlier in the day. Along the way, her funny, nuclear (though, to be fair racially diverse) family, comedically (and again, to be fair, often judgmentally) applauds her missteps.

Somehow each episode lands like a small punch in the gut. By episode six I was pretty sure I was being Sheryl Sanberg'ed all over again.

Emet's successful gaming illustration job, sweet and loving husband, goofy dad, terribly hands-on mom and mostly self-sufficient children (we hardly ever even see the baby) is all just a little much. This is a working mom that makes leaning in look suspiciously like lying down.

So, is I Feel Bad actually the minority mother's manifesto it was built as or is it just another major female guilt trip?

Admittedly here, Savage's television alter-ego which is practically exclusively based in reality is a wildly talented and beautiful comedienne, married to a successful lawyer with a cute (if sometimes obnoxiously inconvenient) daughter. In spite of this the show somehow just doesn't feel overdone. Instead, her down to earth approach to life and incessant and often deprecating commentary induce both cringing and appreciative nodding. Even I understand her plight and I am a single woman living in a one bedroom apartment writing a blog for free.

Perhaps this can be attributed to the humor. Savage's commitment to every joke intrinsically carries this series.

Once I finished listening to her and Dax chat I was entirely smitten with this woman. She sees the world through satire tinged goggles, she is attracted to banter and surrounds both her work and home life with this ethic.

Realizing the comedians on her show were mostly improvising I embraced the occasional awkwardness in tone for all it was intended to be.

It is this constantly improving unrehearsed dialogue in which, I'm Sorry thrives. The show has a fabulously charming Curb your Enthusiasm feel but I suppose I need to quantify this statement.

I understand charming to mean Judith Light telling Andrea Savage to go fuck herself during a geriatric Zumba class when Savage (the youngest person in the room by some 20-odd years) requests to turn up the A/C. Or charming like when your newly not racist four-year-old daughter runs into the "grown-up" dinner party in blackface  (the very same exclusively invited guests who just discovered you probably peed on your hands to alleviate the "jalapeno burn" you acquired whilst preparing their guacamole) only to announce that she is "Fat Albert!" Charming like when your best friend gleefully squeals, "I'm just so excited to see what you have planned next! First piss guac, then blackface. Its probably going to be something antisemitic!" Charming like 7a at the fertility clinic watching men leave the waiting room one by one to go masturbate in a cup and appreciating the experience as nothing more than amazing content."It's kind of like the reverse walk of shame," Savage announces gaining hearty laughs from the other patients and causing her husband to shrink into his chair, muttering; "please don't engage the room."

This is the kind of parenting I can comprehend.

I'm Sorry features a team already skilled at doing improvisation with one another and while it does take a bit for both viewer and actor to fully grasp the unpredictable tone of a real-life mom, it's bumps and misses are a welcome side effect of both the show and actual motherhood.

This story focus' on the perils a funny mom who writes crass humor for a living might actually have to face. Her writing partner, Kyle (Jason Mantzoukas) wonders how she can go from "blow jobs to kindergarten" and her husband teases: "Moms aren't supposed to be funny. Don't you watch TV? Get more hairy and tired."

All teasing from loved ones aside, this show works because Andrea is not actually perfect. She explains in the first episode that she is "disgusting" and later acknowledges she is on an equal playing field with a woman she once accused of being a "garbage person".  These fallacies lead to a character who is both likable and entirely relatable; I too am struggling through a semi-charmed life with plenty to apologize for.

Most notable perhaps, is the final two scenes of season one when Savage accidentally changes her email signature to her favorite (just for laughs) porn picture of a girl biting a man's dick (this is a pic she utilizes as an ongoing gag in many different facets and even unwittingly exposes her four-year-old daughter to at one point in the season). Without realizing her mistake, she shoots off an email to the elite kindergarten her daughter was just accepted to, informing them how thrilled her family is to join the school next fall. Spoiler alert, the season ends with her begging for redemption.

But that's the thing, we don't know if she'll get it and if the Dean's face is any indication Amelia's future here looks highly doubtful.

And while this is an error perhaps enhanced for the comedic effect her apology does sound genuine. She hadn't quite meant for her humor to hurt her daughter's future, an intent likely all decent mom's can relate to

Far less avant-garde, I Feel Bad follows the mainstream sitcom throughline in which conflict is presented, dealt with and solved all in the matter of one episode. Personally, I have no problem with this tactic, designed of course to give us a fresh start each week. The problem here lies with the premise of the show. How badly can you really feel about an error which only takes 28 minutes with commercials to rectify? But what really grates at me here is that our protagonist hasn't so much as fixed her problem as she's found a grovely way to make it redeeming. If anything, it's more insulting that Emet’s cute creativeness has all but rendered her infallible.

For all the enjoyment of Andrea's apology-prompting endeavors (Amelia sharing the gossip of her mother's stretched out vagina to her pre-school chums. Andrea and her mother commiserating about being stuck in successful marriages all the while knowing they'd be at their very best as sexy widows), Emet’s missteps just prompt angst. She left me wondering if I was somehow failing at life. Why wasn't own annoying TV family rallying around my picturesque existence, rooting for me as I lamented my imperfections?

Case in point: during I Feel Bad's holiday episode Emet allegedly feels bad because her kids don't know about their own culture.

I say allegedly here because in actuality she displays zero remorse for her kids' minimal grasp on both Judaism and Hinduism. What Emet actually seems concerned with (as is true in almost every episode) is not her children's well-being but rather how she comes across to the world. In this particular episode, the person she is most concerned with impressing is her Mother in Law. She does this by hiding her own mother inside a Casino.

In some sort of off-beat coup Emet pays the Indian side of her family to silence through Paula Abdul tickets and a $300 credit card charge at CVS ("just imagine how long that receipt is?!" her husband laments)  and while admittedly this is a good hush approach if you ever are interested in buying my silence it's also kind of a not-so-cute, dare I say asshole move to try to embrace one culture by buying off another (sounds like some kind of ass-backward deal #45 might brag about).

All this is of little concern to Emet and her husband though. Instead, the mezuzah on the door, the brisket on the table and expensive Hannukah decorations in the yard are effective enough, causing one Grandma to swoon while the other returns with a carefully calculated revenge approach aimed at convincing her grandchildren (those kids we allegedly are all so worried about being culturally out of touch) that Diwali is the cooler holiday.

Shenanigans ensue.

The pageantry culminates in a backyard, multi-generational family paint war. Of course, everyone winds up laughing and bonding about Emet’s lies and oddly accept equal blame for her dishonesty, each adult copping to their own inability to raise a future generation to be more woke.

Now everyone is happy, they have created new (and obviously better) traditions and all the while the stereotypical old Jewish couple visiting Emet’s inlaws remain indoors blissfully unaware o the commotion, chatting amongst themselves about what a good brisket "the Indian woman has prepared."

And scene.

Did Emet really ever feel bad that her kids are cultural ignoramus'?

Absolutely not.

Can everyone get behind her scheming, lying and flagrant consumeristic overspending because she said she did? Absolutely.

And her family is colorful and happy. Problem solved, yay!

How bizarre.

I may live 1,000 lives and I will never get away with holiday mischief like this.

I'm Sorry but I can't help but Feel Bad.

And so I suppose now is the time to reflect on the actual difference between the two phrases from which each show hails its title.

Similar, sure but fundamentally, "I feel bad" and "I'm sorry" (not the television shows per se, though it does pertain here)  the actual implications behind these phrases are very, very different. If someone feels bad they crashed your car that somehow has an entirely different ring to it than they're sorry they crashed your car.

Karen R. Koenig a licensed psychotherapist I found online (the best place for psychobabble) explains the phenomenon as such:

“I’m sorry,” usually indicates that people feel regret or remorse for having caused pain: they wish they hadn’t done what they did...This mindset is different from someone feeling guilty. That is, people can feel momentarily badly that they did something wrong, but not regret it. The guilt comes from recognizing that what they did was wrong, but not from actually feeling sorry that it happened. Guilt often arises only because someone gets caught. My take is that most of the time, abusers experience momentary guilt, but little more."

If this doesn't prove I Feel Bad is just the gentle sit-com equivalent of gaslighting I'm not sure what does? I get enough of that noise when I read the news, thank you very much.