#this ended up way longer than i anticipated!

[leaentries]

some more nico with his pregnant wife!

➛ has a routine where every night before he sleeps he has to use one of those mini ultrasound machines to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. even if he’s in a roadie, you bet your ass he’s calling you so you can play it over the phone. he’ll just lay back in his bed, phone up to his ear or headphones on and just listen with a smile playing on his face. it comforts him hearing the strong, rhythmic beat. it’s his way of knowing you and the baby are safe.

➛ always talks to the baby! it’s one of his favorite things to do, especially when you first wake up. nine times out of ten, you’ll wake up to nico softly kissing your belly while murmuring sweet swiss-german to your unborn child. bonus, there’s often times when you’ll be reading or scrolling through your phone and nico is having his daily chats with the baby, and he just leans his cheek onto your swollen belly and gazes up at you. his big brown eyes are all full of love and adoration while he just watches your face while you read.

➛ he also is always touching your belly or body in some way when you’re pregnant. nico was very protective of you in the beginning, but now that you’re carrying his baby? dial it up about 100 notches. needs that reassurance that you’re okay and that you’re safe in his arms. very ‘caveman’ of him, but his body literally aches if he feels like he can’t be there for you. you and the baby are his lifeline, his world, and he would do anything to make sure that you’re both happy and taken care of. when you’re in public, his hand is against your back or on your hip. he’ll even keep his hand resting comfortably on your belly. it helps him feel like he’s protecting them. at home he’s much more unabashed about touching you. both his hands are splayed over your stomach almost at all times. if you’re cooking? he’s holding your bump. your cuddling on the couch? he’s holding your bump. your just standing up somewhere on your phone? you guessed it! he’s holding your bump.

➛ nico is also very in tune with your body and mind. he wants to be able to take care of you in the best way possible and make sure that you’re happy and content. don’t get me wrong, he loves making sure the baby is happy and healthy, but you’re his wife, his girl, and he’s gonna put your well being above all else. he’s the one whose texting or calling you every chance he gets when he’s not there. even if it’s just to hear your voice. nico can usually tell by your tone whether you’re feeling okay or not. if he’s at practice and he calls you during a break, he’ll know that because you answered the phone slightly different than normal that something’s off. and when he does find out you’re uncomfortable or upset about something, he’s racing to soothe your needs and fix it. nico hates seeing you unhappy and he’ll go to ends of the earth and back again if it means he gets to see you smile.

+ this turned out a lot longer than i anticipated, but i still have more thoughts if yall want more! also my inbox is open for your nico thoughts!

[dira333]

Mom Friend - Kenma - pt 2

The room is vibrating with quiet conversations and the anticipation only a good game can bring.

Below, Hinata’s warming up. He knows exactly where you’re sitting and he waves excitedly before moving on in the line-up.

“Hey, you’re here already.” Kuroo smiles when he squeezes through, pulling you into a hug.

Behind him, Kenma comes shuffling in. You move to hug him, like you always do when you’re meeting in a group, though you barely touch this time. It’s a fake-out more than anything else.

“Have you been here long?”

“Hinata needed a ride,” you shrug your shoulders. “I had the car this weekend, so it wasn’t a problem.”

Kuroo whistles a mismatched tune. “Do you think they’re going to win?”

“Oh, for sure,” you smile up at him. “Like how can they not?”

You know you’re not the most knowledgeable when it comes to Volleyball. Most games one of the boys ends up explaining a play to you, but no one ever seemed to mind.

Today, though, you mind.

You know Kenma hasn’t told Hinata about that night, because Hinata’s the worlds worst liar. You’d be able to tell if he knew.

Kuroo, however, is an amazing liar. If he knows, and you suspect he does, he isn’t letting it slip.

His kindness feels forced to you now. Is he pitying you? 

“Did you get that?” He asks half an hour later when the referee waves his hands in a way you haven’t seen before.

The “no” is on the tip of your tongue but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“You don’t have to explain it,” you say instead, the words a little more biting than they should be. “It’s fine.”

Kuroo startles and behind him, you can see the concern in Kenma’s face. 

You can’t stand it anymore, being this close to him, and get up.

“I need to use the toilet,” you rush out. “Lady problems.”

The line is short. 

But you sit on the cold toilet seat for fifteen minutes, scrolling through Tiktok until your heartbeat settles and you feel ready to go back out again.

You’ll have to apologize to Kuroo in some way if you want to save this friendship.

Though is there a way to save it? Should you, even? 

-

“Did you see my spike?” Hinata asks later, hair damp from the game, towel slung around his neck. “Did you?”

You’re not sure which one he means, but you nod and you fawn over him like you usually do. 

But then he’s gone, gone for a quick shower, and you’re left to wait around.

“You good?” Kuroo asks and you can feel your spine stiffen, from the top all the way down to the bottom.

“Yes,” you tell him, though your eyes stay on the floor. A quick check, Kenma’s shoes are nowhere to be seen. At least he’s not here to witness this. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I don’t want your pity.”

Kuroo quiets. He’s usually someone who moves a lot, squiggles his foot, or taps his thigh, but he’s motionless right now, at least the lower part of him that you can see. Nothing is going to make you lift your eyes up. You don’t want to see his face.

“Did something happen last week?”

You hesitate.

“Nothing happened.”

“Are you sure? Kenma said you watched the movie and went out for dinner after like we usually do. He said you didn’t talk much, that it was quiet, but if it’s something about Kenma-”

“Why does it have to be about Kenma?” You lift your eyes now, want to see his face. He looks concerned. Too soft. 

He reminds you of yourself. How did Kenma call it? Bothering people. 

“Maybe it was something at work. Or it’s because I’m on my period. Or I’m just having a bad day. Maybe some creep tried to hit on me and I’m weirded out by that. Why do you automatically assume that it’s about Kenma?”

Kuroo’s quiet for a moment. “You usually react differently to Kenma being around.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug. “Things change.”

He looks pained but he doesn’t pry anymore. You can’t help but think that he’ll ask Kenma about it later. That Kenma will tell him the truth, eventually, because they’ve been friends longer than anyone you know. 

You force yourself to smile. This might be the last time you see Kuroo in a while.

“I’m just being weird,” you promise him. “A girl has to be weird sometimes.”

“Okay,” he nods and you stay there, silent, until Hinata comes back.

- - -

“Hey.”

You look up from your desk. Kuroo’s standing in the doorway, shirt pushed up to the elbows, his hair defying gravity as usual. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen him. 

Work has kept you busy. You’ve got other friends too, though Hinata has been pretty good at calling you up.

“Hey,” you hesitate for a second. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I was in the area and remembered you work here. Do you wanna get lunch together?”

You hesitate. 

“Just checking in on you,” Kuroo promises. “Don’t be a stranger?”

You sigh. “Fine.” 

-

“Kenma hasn’t told me anything, by the way,” Kuroo tells you as he separates his chopsticks. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Why would I be worried about that?”

He chuckles. “You’re pretty good at deflecting, has anyone told you that before?”

“And you’re a mother-hen, has anyone told you that before?”

“Yeah,” he stuffs an egg roll into his mouth and nods. 

“How do you deal with that?” You ask, pushing the rice around your bowl for a moment before taking a bite. 

Kuroo shrugs. “I like being this way. If I step on somebody’s toes, I apologize of course, and try to stay clear of that, but in the end… it’s who I want to be, so why change?”

You consider that, but it’s not that easy. 

Nothing really ever is when there are feelings involved.

“We’re having a movie night next weekend,” Kuroo adds gently when your bowl is almost empty. “I’m formally inviting you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I want to. I like having you around. We,” he corrects himself with a grin. “Like having you around.”

“Who’s we?”

“Bokuto, of course, and where’s Bokuto there’s Akaashi. Atsumu invited himself and he’s bringing Osamu, so there’s food involved. I think Hinata managed to rope Sakusa in, but that’s always a little debatable.” He stops. “I just realized they’re all just guys, so I’m counting on you to invite a few girls.”

“Are you using me to find your friends some girlfriends?”

“Why, is it working?”

- - -

It’s no surprise that Kenma’s not showing up to movie night. He’s not a big fan of crowds, you know, and there’s always a crowd when Atsumu is concerned.

It’s a good thing you end up going because you end up setting Emi up with Osamu - completely on accident - and as Hinata figures out he’s allergic to some weird European drink you’re the only one with antihistamine pills in your possession.

-

“Do you always come this prepared?” Sakusa asks, hiding out in the kitchen where it’s calmest. 

“I guess,” you reply, preparing yourself for another sting.

“I like that,” Sakusa hums. “Do you have hand sanitizer?”

“Sure,” you pull it out of your purse. “Scented or unscented?”

“Unscented please.” He offers his palm and thanks you quietly when you squeeze out the liquid. 

“You can call me Kiyoomi,” he adds after a moment of silence. “Just don’t tell Miya.”

You smile. “This is what being knighted must feel like.”

Kiyoomi taps your forehead. “Don’t get too cocky or I’ll revoke your rights.”

-

“Are you coming to the cinema this weekend?” Hinata asks after a game, eyelids already fluttering with exhaustion. “It’s that one movie you said you wanted to watch.”

“Sure,” you tell him, ushering him forward, waving at Kiyoomi whose car’s a little further down in the parking lot. “Who did you invite?”

“Everyone,” Hinata yawns. “Can you drive? Key is in my-”

“Wallet, I know.” You pull it out of the bag he’s carrying. “If you invited everyone, surely you wouldn’t miss me.”

Hinata furrows his brows. “That’s not true.”

It’s sweet, but you wonder about it sometimes still. 

It’s the age-old question, isn’t it? Do you like me because you need me or do you need me because you like me?

You think you’ve grown, in these last few months. 

You like the way you are. Not the smartest and not the dumbest. Over-prepared and over-caring. 

But you’ve also recognized that you’re a friend and not a mother.

That you want a partner, not a child. 

“I’m good,” you tell Hinata when you reach his apartment complex. “But thanks for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

Join my Taglist: @notsochillnerd @fuzztacular @callingmyself

@kaykaystrings @alienaiver @alexxavicry @tsxkishimx @stellar-haikyuu

Mom Friend - Kenma pt one two three

[urwritethanks]

Someone said that if this was just a Netflix show he would have ate her out at the ending of EP 2. And let's just say that's what inspired this.

Anyway, hello 👋🏾 Yes I am shamelessly joining everyone in the excitement for this show. Did I start the show at 11pm? Yes. Did I then proceed to immediately start writing this at 2am? Yes. And you know what? I have no regrets (it's now basically 5am).

This is obviously an interpretation in an alternate timeline/universe. Dont get your panties in a bunch. Also my writing is not perfect. This ended up being longer than anticipated but apparently thats my m.o. I rarely get inspired to write so I wanted to just get it all out. Enjoy!

The glass shattered as it hit the floor.

Hee Joo could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her hands were clammy and she felt out of breath.

How could she be so silly? How had she walked into this mess? 'A fire .. my god' she thought. 'Was he hurt?' What if at this very moment he was in the hospital? She'd known since last night something was wrong. She'd felt it in her gut.  That was why she had waited for him. Only exhaustion had allowed her to sleep. Now hours later she wished she had done something, anything. But what could she have done? Everyone saw her as useless. What could she do now? She needed to-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the door lock. 'He's here!?' She thought in equal parts shock and relief.

The news in the background continued as he came into view. She was expecting him to be disheveled but she still was not prepared.

His shirt had soot and dirt. His hair looked as though he had been running his hand through it all night. His eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep. But more than that, they were filled with emotion. She had never seen him.. so affected.

He stalked toward her. Instinctively she stepped back only to come in contact with the table. She almost gasped when his hands found her waist and lifted her to the table. He must have lost his mind last night. In all their years of marriage she could count on one hand the number of times he'd touched her this way.

Her breath was caught in her throat. She stared at him stunned.

"Lately, nothing makes sense" Sa Eon said.

"There can't be a Hong Hee Joo I don't know about."

Hee Joo's brain was not working. She couldn't think straight with him this close. What did he mean?

"I need to find out" he continued, eyes shifting to her skirt "which one is the real one".

She knew. She knew before he moved what he was going to do.

"Right now, you're my only lead. So cooperate."

He reached for her skirt. Lifting it two inches before instinct had her stopping him.

He was really going to do it! Oh my, why had she gotten herself into this situation? How would she keep him from doing this now? When he was so determined. And why was she..getting turned on. Maybe it was how close he was to her. Maybe it was because it had been years since she had been with someone. But she knew the truth was it was his eyes. The way they seemed to be staring into her soul. The way they were showing so many emotions. Anger, confusion, frustration ...lust.

Was she imagining that last one?

"Do you want to take it off, or should I?". He had fisted her skirt. She stared at him chest rising and falling as though all the oxygen was gone from the room.

She didn't know what came over her. Before she could think about it her hand continued where he had left off.

His eyes never left hers the entire time. While a moment ago he was almost desperate, now it seemed as though he had all the time in the world.

She lifted it just enough to reveal what she knew he wanted to see. The material bunching in her lap but still covering her under garment. Slowly his eyes shifted down. Where ever his eyes touched felt like fire on her skin. She saw the moment he found her mole. His jaw clenched  and when she looked down his hand which had fallen beside her leg on the table was balled into a fist.

He exhaled loudly "I see.. so this is the real Hee Joo." His hand lifted. Finger tracing a circle around the mold. She felt that movement deep, her stomach clenching.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until his commanding voice said "Breathe". Before she could think she breathe in and out in a huff . God why did she always listen to everything he said?

As she continued to breathe the circles seemed to be getting larger. Covering more area on her thigh. Was she dreaming? She must be because he reached to lift the skirt higher revealing more and more skin. This is exactly what dream Sa Eon would do. Only in her dreams, dreams buried deep down could this be happening.

He only stopped once her centre was exposed. The skin tone underwear was now clearly visible to him. She watched him as his eyes feasted on her. She saw him swallow and he murmured something that even her fine tuned ears did not pick up.

When he reached for her she came back to herself and grabbed his wrist. His eyes found hers. Searching. She must have been doing a terrible job of hiding how much this was affecting her because whatever he saw in her eyes had him smirking and then he leaned forward and captured her mouth.

She gasped into the kiss. Then it was a flash of tongues and breathe. Her mind was spiraling not able to keep up or put into perspective what was happening. Sa Eon kissed exactly how she expected him to.  He directed and she was more than happy to follow his lead. One of his hands found her jaw and he maneuvered her head to deepen the kiss. Her hands found their way around his neck and into his already messy hair. This man was talented. He kissed her as though he was thirsty and she was the last drink of water on earth. He kissed her as though he had been wanting to do this for the last three years. He kissed her as though she was his.

When she broke the kiss, breathing heavy he simply shifted to her neck, her clavicle. The low vee of her shirt allowing him access. Her head fell back as she gave him more room.

Suddenly she felt his fingers on the outer edge of her panties. At the same moment his mouth was doing magical things to a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. She shifted on the table humming as his fingers made their way to her entrance.

"I haven't heard this much sound from you in a long time" he paused whatever he was doing to her neck to say. "Maybe I should have done this sooner".

His finger was now working circles around her clit. Rather than go back to kissing her neck his eyes found hers as she slowly began to lose herself to the sensations. They were having a conversation without words. When his finger entered her she gasped and closed her eyes.

"Look at me" he said. Her eyes fluttered open to find his lit and studying her. He began to move his finger in and out. She bit her lip and her head fell back.

"Look at me" he reiterated. And his commanding tone coupled with a second finger joining the first had her head snapping back up.

"You will watch."

Suddenly his fingers left her and in a swift move he grabbed the waistband of her panties and ripped. Then before she could recover from that his hands moved her thighs further apart and his mouth found her, his tongue hot on her most private place. She was so stunned she didn't have a moment to feel exposed. Then sensation began traveling through her body.

She was getting more and more wet as he continued. His tongue feasting on her sensitive clit then moving to her entrance. The more wet she got the more he lapped, groaning and tightening his grip on her waist. Her thighs began to tremble and with each lap of his tongue she fell a little further under his spell. When his tongue entered her, her hands gave out and she fell to her elbows. Her eyes almost closed until she remembered what he had said. When she looked down she found him watching her as his tongue continued to torture her. She couldn't believe this was happening. How had they got here? Watching her watch him seemed to do something to him, as his onslaught became more ferocious she could only hold on for the ride.

He knew everything about her. He made it his job. Nothing could put all his skills to better use than his wife. And maybe that is why finding out he may not know her like he thought he did these last few days was driving him crazy.

All he could think about was her safety. But more than anything he was angry. Angry that this stranger who had no right to had seen her. Taken her hostage! Had her photo to leer over! It made him feral.

All he had wanted to do after last night's events was set eyes on her. Make sure she was safe. But when he'd seen her all his plans flew out the window. Suddenly he needed to know,  was she his Hee Joo?

Now with his head between her thighs, her hand fisting his hair and those breathy noices she was making (which were quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds) he knew she was.

He loved her taste and the more wet she got, the happier he was. He watched as her eyes glazed over as she gave in to everything he was giving her.  She began to shift her hips now, unconsciously chasing her orgasm. What she didn't know is he would give her anything she wanted.

Now as he watched her, her eyes seemed to be begging him, a tiny furrow in her brows and he was more than willing to oblige. He shifted, his mouth again finding her clit while his fingers entered her again. He pulled, hard with his mouth and thrust his fingers at the same time. Her thighs tightened around his head. He sweeped his tongue from her clit to her entrance a satisfied groan low in his throat. That also seemed to have an effect on her. He picked up the pace his eyes finding her again. Not wanting to miss a moment of her pleasure. He felt and heard the moment she came. Her core quivered and released a rush of moisture. At the same time she gasped loudly and bucked her hips. He knew it was with difficulty that she kept her eyes trained on him. He could swear he saw them get two shades darker.

For several moments she didn't breathe, suspended in the pleasure her body was giving her. He continued his onslaught until she came down. The hand in his hair going slack and a rush of breath finally expended from her. She seemed to sag onto the table. As much as she could anyway as she tried to keep her eyes on him.

He kissed her one last time reverently. When he glanced up he could see the panic and confusion beginning on her face. Her hands went up to cover her face and she laid on the table.

He adjusted her skirt back down to cover her. "Get cleaned up" he said. Knowing if he even tried to talk about or explain this it would go in one ear and out the other.

"I'm going to take a shower; then I'll make you breakfast and we can talk".

She was shaking her head before he was finished.  Her fingers shifting so she could peek through.

He left her like that, making his way to his room to shower. He knew she was even now probably trying to find a way to get out of speaking to him. But make no mistake, he had gotten a taste and he was far from satisfied.

[tokiro07]

Ichi the Witch ch.11 thoughts

[WitchCon 2024]

(Topics: praise - comedy, narrative progression, world building, thematic analysis - freedom vs. order, predictions)

Make 'Em Laugh

Y'know, for a chapter that was like...90% political dialogue and exposition, this still managed to end up being one of the funnier chapters so far: Desscaras' report being a comic book that makes her look like the hero and Shirabedonna just throwing it away, Ichi straight up leaving the Zoom call to get food, Togeice goofing up her dramatic entrance; and that's not even every funny bit from this chapter

Handled wrong, this could have come off as a super dry and meandering chapter, but for the sake of setting up the conflict of revealing Ichi's existence to the world, I think an in-depth analysis of both sides of the argument was necessary

Better to Ask Permission than Forgiveness

While I agree with Togeice that Shirabedonna's conclusions are being made on too few datapoints (one grateful village and three unusually quick hunts in only two weeks), I'm also inclined to agree with Shirabedonna that this is a tricky situation to maintain

The longer Mantinel tries to hide Ichi, the more contradictions and public distrust are bound to pile up. Coming up with excuses later to explain every little detail will just make discussing it more difficult, and Mantinel will only look more suspicious. On the other hand, coming clean now less than a month in should be fairly understandable given the implications of Ichi being a male Witch that acquired Uroro - some people will be mad, sure, but most people would probably be forgiving of the caution exercised

More than that, though, Mantinel's acquisition of the first male Witch would do wonders for their reputation, as that's a historic discovery. Even if he ends up being dangerous, the narrative wouldn't be too hard to spin in Mantinel's favor, as no one could have predicted how a male Witch would behave

The fun thing about this argument to me, though, is the acknowledgment of other Witch organizations

Frog in the Well

We haven't been shown a world map or anything yet, so we don't really have any sense of scale to this world, but I wouldn't have been too surprised either way if either Mantinel had a monopoly on Witch administration or if they were just one of many such organizations

The acknowledgment of an equivalent of Japan last week was a good clue that there was more to this world than...whatever this one country is called, but we still know nothing about this fantasy-Japan's society other than that they still have sashimi

Do they have their own Witches Association? Do they even have Magiks there in the first place, or are they endemic to the current focus country?

Black Clover kept expanding to reveal that other nations had different relationships with magic, while JJK revealed that Curses pretty much only exist in Japan for...some reason. I would imagine that this is more like the former, but the realization that one nation is hoarding the concept of magic would be pretty wild, wouldn't it?

Then there's the fact that ch.1 told us that there's only a 0.001% chance of a man being able to acquire magic even if he did have the capacity to pass a trial and physically handle casting spells. That seems like a low number, but...it's one in a thousand

For every thousand men, one of them has the capacity to acquire magic. Presumably this number is compounded by the ability to use it, since the narration said there were so many other factors that had to line up perfectly first, but that just means that the chances of finding another man with the potential to overcome those factors aren't actually all that slim

EDIT: It's been brought to my attention that I goofed the math and this is one in a hundred thousand, but my point stands! I thought it was going to be like one in a million or even a billion, and it ended up being a lot more generous than I anticipated! In our world, that would still be 40,000 men with the capacity for magic!

In other words, it's only a matter of time until another male Witch is found

From there, the method for cultivating male Witches will likely start to become more widespread, and eventually the proportion of female to male Witches should approach an equilibrium

That's probably looking too far ahead, though. That's the kind of thing that would probably take several generations to pass, so while we may have like...a dozen male Witches by the end, they probably won't be a normal part of Witch society until a far-flung epilogue

For now, I'd like to focus on the worldbuilding that we actually received this chapter: that Ichi's acquisition rate is ridiculous

Gotta Go Fast

Ichi has three Magiks under his belt in less than two weeks, and Shirabedonna tells us that one week is on the fast end for a hunt. That seems especially strange to me, since one of the first trials we're ever told of was only set for an hour, but I suppose that figure is based on the number of attempts and the prep-time? It's easy to assume "oh, they got it one," but this statement gives the impression that almost no one acquires a Magik on their first try

I do think it kind of skews our perceptions to tell us the upper and lower limits of one week and ten years without also giving us an average or at least a mean. All she says is "some take X amount of time," like that means anything statistically...

It also doesn't help that the first hunt we actually saw would have been over almost immediately had it not been for the circumstances: Desscaras immediately stabbed Uroro's heart, and only failed to pierce it because she was a woman. Now, Desscaras is likely an outlier herself because she's ostensibly the strongest living Witch, but sub-10 minutes is nowhere near a full week!

Again, it's entirely possible that the hunt for Uroro was on a constant timer since Mantinel first started trying, so that would be an extreme circumstance no matter what. I suppose in a sense that would mean Ichi has the record for clearing both the shortest and longest hunts?

But just being fast or lucky doesn't make Ichi an expert, and it's only a matter of time until he hits a wall where his unique perspective fails to compensate for his lack of experience in the field he's so suddenly found himself in

Rising to the Level of Your Incompetence

Togeice is being presented as morally incorrect here, with her talk of reforming Ichi into a "proper Witch" being accompanied by a vision of all of Ichi's best qualities being sanded down to a bland scholarly appearance, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't have a point

Ichi's lack of experience makes him something akin to an outsider artist, which is what allows him to discover unconventional methods within the field, but it also means that he's not familiar with the pitfalls of the profession. Ichi took Hisame's challenge in a different direction than what was intended by the rules; it worked out, but if Hisame hadn't been impressed with this loophole, then that gamble would've gotten everyone present killed. Since she expressed that she wanted to attack another village as a palette cleanser, it's entirely possible that she could have taken this approach as an insult and gone on an even worse rampage after the fact

In fact, Ichi going straight for attacking Hisame could have resulted in her not even bothering to issue her trial, which would have effectively made her invincible in the resulting combat encounter. Perhaps Magiks don't work that way and they have to share their trial in order to maintain their power, but there's no precedent for that yet, so Ichi's ignorant and rash behavior could have sabotaged the entire mission

There's also the possibility that Ichi will continue to acquire stronger and stronger spells that he's less and less equipped to control and will cause some kind of huge disaster. He already used Parthion to create an entire new ecosystem on Druid Mountain, which could well have untold consequences on the local wildlife and nearby settlements, so what's to stop him from naively trying to save a desert village with Poltata and just washing them all away?

Togeice's desire to force her vision of order onto Ichi is obviously wrong and potentially detrimental to Ichi's value, but she is right that he's not capable of wielding his powers effectively or responsibly. Even if Ichi is a perfectly moral and upstanding Witch, if his trump card will only result in him being rendered unconscious for three days, then he's only going to be a liability when the time comes to use it against a major threat

The goal then should be to cultivate Ichi's sense of freedom and experience using magic while also giving him a clear sense of the responsibility that he carries. Fortunately, he's already demonstrated the capacity for that with his strict adherence to Death for Death, but unless he can prove to Togeice that he already has the discipline she's looking for, she won't be able to trust such an unknown with her back

Fortunately, the upcoming challenge provides the perfect opportunity for Togeice to get to know Ichi

Just a Little Guy

It was pointed out to me by @wickedsick that because the mushroom Magik isn't a human-hater, it likely doesn't hold any ill intent towards humans and doesn't go out of his way to hurt them, and therefore shouldn't trigger Death for Death. This would likely prevent Ichi from harming it, and in turn give Togeice the opportunity to take the win

The way I see it, there's five ways that this could go

Ichi loses because the mushroom isn't hurting anyone and he can't bring himself to hunt it -> school arc, Ichi learns valuable lessons, though he doesn't fundamentally change the way that Togeice wants him to

Ichi is just hopelessly outclassed and decides he has plenty to learn from Togeice and Mantinel -> same outcome as above

The circumstances of Ichi's refusal to hunt the mushroom somehow prove to Togeice that he's already plenty disciplined -> she wins, but still lets him go free because she doesn't believe she has anything to teach him after all

The nature of the trial doesn't necessitate Death for Death, and Ichi wins solely through his specific skillset -> Togeice realizes that she was not equipped for this specific scenario and different approaches will always be necessary for different circumstances, so she drops her objection

Togeice accidentally goads the mushroom into triggering Death for Death and realizes that it was her irresponsibility that endangered people, not Ichi's -> same outcome as above

For sure, there are more nuanced outcomes available, but those seem like the most likely either for developing the themes of the story or driving the plot in a specific direction. I'm definitely open to whichever route Nishi chooses to take, as I think that the two broadest outcomes of Ichi going or not going to school both provide interesting opportunities for the story going forward. Whichever she chooses, I have faith in Nishi that it'll be a fun time

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

[argent-rex]

After N recovers from his mini breakdown at Pokédonald's he flies to Kanto seeking the BW trainer. He spots a tall tower and makes a stop quickly, landing in a quaint but erie town. The air is thick and heavy, and as night is approaching a heavy fog rolls in. Residents warn him to stay inside, but he doesn't need to, not when he has the Dragon of Legend with him. He begins to ascend the tower with the Dragon following him, who is cautious and keeping a watchful eye on Harmonia. N continues to ascend, looking at the graves solemnly, speaking with the ghost pokémon as he reaches the final flight of stairs. He senses someone waiting up ahead. But how? How did someone know he was here? Could it be... his friend?

N ascends the final staircase.

Anxious, sweating beading on his brow. What would his friend say? How would they greet each other? There is a lump in his throat, his chest thuds with the rhythm of trepidation as his eyes dance towards the figure.

It's an old man. Smiling at him with such warmth and compassion. N is confused, who could this man be? His aura is radiant, reminiscent of a sophisticated calm similar to that of Anthea and Concdoria, when they used to watch over him when he was young.

"Ah, young man. You're up late. The Pokémon were beginning to become restless. They're not used to visitors at this time!" The old man chuckled, his wrinkled features briefly illuminated in the dim light.

N gathered himself. "This... this is a graveyard. I thought they would be sad, all the Pokémon... but- they're happy."

The old man smiled, warmth radiating from him. His old eyes spoke with a kindness that kept N's gaze toward the fellow. "I have been attending to the Pokémon here and paying my respects for many decades now. It's the least I owe to them and the people of this town. Young man, you can understand them... correct?"

"How did you-" N began in haste, but bit his tongue. This man posed no threat, there was no need to suspect him as untrustworthy. "Yes, I can speak with Pokémon. The others at the Pokémon House were all talking about you, Mr. Fuji." N bowed respectfully now understanding who he spoke with. "Cubone is worried about you."

Mr. Fuji's smile brimmed with mirth as he let out another light chuckle. "That Cubone worries more about me than it does itself sometimes! Perhaps it is time to head home for the night. Come young man, won't you stay with us until the morrow?"

N nodded in agreement, motioning for the Dragon of Legend to follow as he descended Pokémon Tower with Mr.Fuji, talking more about the nature of Pokémon and the ones the old man cared for. It was near midnight when the two arrived back at Pokémon House, turning in until the sun rose in the morning.

N had barely slept.

The sun had just kissed the horizon, shades of purple bleeding into hues of orange as the blue of day began to wash over the clouds when N climbed onto the back of the Dragon of Legend, only to be stopped by Mr. Fuji before taking off.

"Pardon my intrusion young man, but I have seen that expression on your face countless times in my life. You are searching for something, or someone. I mean not to pry, but may I offer some advice?" The old man took N's silence as affirmation and continued. "There was a young boy, some time ago- who came to this town and helped our people and Pokémon in a time of great need. Without hesitation and without barely a word, he ascended the tower and freed a restless spirit... and he freed me from the clutches of the wicked Team Rocket. This young man then went on his way, much like you are about to. In that young man I saw a strength, a determination and desire to change things for the better. He knew what he wanted to achieve, what the end of his goal was and how he was going to achieve it. Through that determination, he saved this region. It wasn't until two years after that, he visited me... he had changed. He was still the young man I had met before but... he did not speak. Not to any of my helpers, but to me... and to Cubone."

N's eyes narrowed. Another Pokémon trainer who understood Pokémon like his friend did? A trainer with such strength to thwart an evil clouding the region? "Where do I find this trainer?"

Mr. Fuji's smile was small and his expression flashed briefly with regret. He let out a sigh. "Beyond the Indigo Plateua, a mountain sits. A system of caves weave and wind their way through to the mountain top, where you will find him at its very peak."

"You weren't meant to reveal his location, were you?"

"No, young man. I was not."

"You trusted me with this information. Why?"

"He may lead you to who you seek."

N's pupil's dialated and he felt the Dragon of Legend begin to power up, ready for flight. They were both ready, for whoever this trainer was. "Tell me, Mr. Fuji... what is this trainer's name?"

"His name, is Red."

[babygirlwolverine]

cas had texted and said he’d be back at the bunker that night, and dean had stayed up until almost 3am waiting for the angel. when cas hadn’t walked through the bunker door, dean had to drag himself to bed before he passed out on the war table.

he didn’t sleep for long though, waking up just after 6am to check his phone. no messages from cas. was it too soon to start worrying?

making his way to the kitchen for a very strong cup of black coffee, dean shuffled past the bag in hallway while he rubbed blearily at his eyes. it took several long seconds before dean realized he’d almost tripped over cas’ overnight bag and he quickly backtracked and made a beeline for cas’ room.

the room was empty, no sign of cas’ current trenchcoat or of the angel anywhere.

frowning, dean wandered the hallways, searching for any signs of cas. but there was nothing. the bunker was quiet. empty. not even sam was awake yet.

convincing himself that the overnight bag had always been there and he’d just forgotten because he was tired, dean trudged back towards the kitchen by cutting through the library.

and he froze, mid-step.

slumped, lying curled up between two of the chairs at the table, was a sleeping angel using his trenchcoat as a pillow against the hard wooden seats.

a sleeping angel who was bundled up under dean’s old hoodie; the clothing item which usually held a permanent place in the backseat of the impala. the same hoodie that had gone missing a week ago.

dean’s heart stuttered in his chest.

his feet carried him gently across the library and he found himself reaching out and brushing a lock of hair off of cas’ forehead. the hood of the jacket was tucked up under cas’ chin, almost as if the angel had been burying his face in the cotton material, but the rest of it was slipping off and threatening to fall onto the floor.

breath catching in his throat, dean softly readjusted the hoodie and wrapped it around cas’ shoulders. cas let out a content sigh in his sleep, and dean suddenly felt weak in the knees.

cas had taken dean’s jacket with him when he’d left the bunker last week. and now, cas was using his hoodie as a blanket. a concept that years ago dean would’ve sworn up and down that cas would never understand because angels didn’t have feelings. yet, here cas was, carrying around dean’s old clothes, wearing his heart on dean’s worn sleeves.

smiling to himself, dean quietly made his way back to the kitchen to make honey tea for cas and a pot of coffee. he was going to need the caffeine courage to show cas that this was mutual.

as the coffee brewed and the tea steeped, dean snuck back into cas’ room and collected the one thing he was missing. wrapping one of cas’ old trenchcoats around his shoulders, dean was finally ready to put his own heart onto cas’ sleeve.

[cerealboxlore]

Billy Batson related question, as always! How do you think the League would react to Black Adam knowing who the Captain is, especially when they don’t even know? (The relationship between Billy and Teth doesn’t matter, they could be allies or enemies).

Billy Batson related questions are my personal favorites!

The idea of the Justice League not knowing who Captain Marvel's secret identity is always makes me giggle :D it's the layer of mystery and unknown danger that presents itself behind not knowing who the Big Red Cheese is that keeps them on edge sometimes. They admire their friend, but sometimes they do wonder, are they his friend? What is he? An alien? A human? A monster beneath the disguise of a man? Three kobolds in a trenchcoat? Nobody knows... They do wish to get to know their friend better.

Normally, most league members have their secret identities kept, you know, a secret. With the exception that Batman knows, of course. However, even he remains stumped on this mystery. He doesn't enjoy not knowing who Captain Marvel is behind the boy scout smile he often shines, but Batman is determined to find out one day. There's almost some respect for how well the Captain manages to hide his identity and tracks.

Meanwhile, Billy is surprised he's lasted this long with a secret identity. He's working with a braincell, half an oreo cookie, and a dream.

I got sidetracked, ack! Okay, so the relationship (depending on which version of Captain Marvel and Black Adam you are familiar with) is almost always going to be personal. There's their shared relationship with the wizard Shazam, but the one I'm most familiar with and enjoy is Black Adam being the one to have killed Billy's parents. (Also, I appreciate you separating the identity of Black Adam and Teth!)

It would be absolutely amazing and gutwrenching to see Captain Marvel shake hands with a "reformed" Black Adam, possibly during a public setting with the JL in attendance, fully knowing the truth behind his parents murders and still going through with the painful decision to let him go unpunished.

For Billy, this hurts. On a deep level that scars his heart and soul for allowing his parents deaths to go unavenged. For the years of pain, he spent alone on the streets homeless and separated from his twin sister, none of it can be fully healed no matter how hard he tries to forget. Scars fade over time, but to Billy, time is eternity. This pain will follow him for eternity.

However, as Captain Marvel, he understands that there's more to the situation that he can't control, and fighting Black Adam would only make things worse. With the wisdom of Solomon, he knows he can't justify a fight against the ruler of a nation, no matter what. So he just smiles for the camera and shakes the hand of the man who orphaned him.

It is through holding Black Adam's hand that the thought passes through his mind: the hand he's holding right now was once stained with the blood of his parents.

Then, the heroes are given a moment of privacy to be around each other without the public's eyes or ears to interfere, and that's when **** hits the fan.

Captain Marvel is avoiding Black Adam, understandably, but when Black Adam loudly calls out his name among the other heroes, Billy can't help but feel rage boil inside his divine blood.

"William. I thought you knew better than to ignore others when they're trying to talk to you. Such rudeness, I am most glad your parents were not the ones to raise such behavior in you."

Whispers among the league ensues. Was that the Captain's name? Did Black Adam know Captain Marvel on a personal level rather than just a regular hero and nemesis level? Despite the eyes watching them, waiting and prepared to step in case of a fight, the Captain grits his teeth and, through miserable eyes of a broken man, chooses to smile.

"Yeah, they really were good people, Adam. I may not live up to their expectations, but I do live for them. Every day. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

"Your gratitude is most welcome, William. May one day come where you live for Mary and Frederick, as well. They would appreciate you honoring them."

Through a wicked smile, Black Adam chuckles, turning his back to take his leave back to Khandak. Leaving Captain Marvel still smiling all alone, his fists at his side curled with rage, drawing his own divine blood from the intensity of his own strength.

After that, the league would be in all rumors and whispers about Captain Marvel. From the past, they knew that Black Adam was fond of taunting the Captain with strange and mean words during their harrowing battles, but had it all been a personal dig at him all this time? Did Black Adam have a hand in accidentally giving Captain Marvel the motivation to become a hero?

Superheroes like Batman would immediately be looking into any information they learned from this and try to decipher what is the truth behind the Captain. Or should he say, "William," now having a name to the face of the hero of Fawcett. He would also be investigating Black Adam far more closely now, should the reformed man ever step out of line. If he heard right and Black Adam had indeed killed the Captain's parents, then he needed to keep an eye on Captain Marvel, too. In case of a breakdown or instability in emotions.

On the other hand, heroes like the Flash and Superman would take the time to visit the Captain in his city and check on him. They'd be concerned after seeing how pained Captain Marvel was. If a villain like Black Adam knew who the Captain was and specifically chose not to reveal his true identity to the public and just the Justice League, then perhaps there was more to it. Superman knew as well how painful it was to let a guilty man go free because he was deemed "reformed" in the eyes of the public (Lex Luthor, ew).

Overall, there would be a whole range of emotions after finding out Black Adam knows who Captain Marvel is. And I am here for it!

[anzuhan]

[doctorwhoarchive]

as someone who absolutely adored Sam/Melissa in Scream 5 while most everyone else was hating on her and her acting, I’ve been thinking about this for a while and can honestly write a whole dissertation on this SO

Melissa was never a bad actress in 5. I’d argue it all comes down to how Sam was written and that she was intentionally a little more stoic. And then, as soon as Melissa had more input on the character and fought to give Sam more complexity in 6, suddenly everyone loved her and was praising her for “getting acing lessons”. Someone doesn’t just improve their acting that much in the few months timespan between when 5 came out and 6 was filmed, she was always that good!

The real reason I’m writing this though is because there’s a certain subtle aspect of Melissa’s acting that I’ve never seen anyone talk about before, but it might just be my favorite thing about her portrayal of Sam. MELISSA’S BODY LANGUAGE ACTING IS INCREDIBLE AND IT’S TIME WE SPEAK ABOUT IT!!

Maybe it’s just the mental illness in me that sees the same things I do in her, but a lot of little things she does/the way she carries herself stick out to me and I love it so much. The way she crosses her arms like she’s closed off whenever something particularly bad or uncomfortable is happening (she does this in shrine scene when Tara catches her talking to Billy, at the police station after Gale is attacked, and in 5 when she begins to tell Tara about finding the diary), the way her leg bounces when she’s nervous/anxious (like when she’s talking to Danny after the ladder scene), the way she fiddles with her hands (like in the scene right after she’s attacked in the hospital in 5), it all really catches my attention and it’s so subtle but perfect.

Melissa’s crushing it as Sam, and was way before everyone finally started appreciating her performance in 6. When I see her do those things I’m like!! I do those exact things too! It may not be a big deal to anybody else and they may not even notice it, but I notice it and absolutely love it and feel seen by it. It just feels like Melissa really put the time, effort, and thought into Sam and her mannerisms to make her a more well-rounded character, and I just think we all need to talk about it more.

[itsalwaysforyou]

the black sky and all those lights

a silly little something i wrote for jalentines!!

When Mal opens the dormitory door, Jay is standing in the hallway in his workout gear, hair tied up in a bun. He’s already grinning in that way he does when he wins a fight. Mal rolls her eyes at him. Grabbing her bag, she says bye to Evie, and joins Jay in the corridor. 

She scowls as they walk, her workout clothes tight on her skin. Jay had insisted they’d do things properly, and not in their usual leather. 

The hallways are decorated for Valentine’s Day, making Auradon Prep even more gaudy and colourful as usual. Pink and red hearts plastered across the walls, boasting the abundance of love here in Auradon. Jay’s had a thousand notes in his locker. Mal’s had none. Every morning, she watches Jay approach his locker like he would a target on the Isle. Weight forward, shoulders squared; ready to fight if needs be. And the paper falls to the floor like blood, only sickly pastel. Scrawled glittery gel pen. Words confessing passionate love, or asking him on dates, or doodles of hearts. Jay smiles the whole time. Greets and winks at girls. Scrunches those notes up in a fist. 

“Everywhere looks disgusting,” Mal says as they approach the sports hall. Heart-shaped bunting crests the doors.

Jay holds the door open for her. “It’s fun.”

“You would think that.”

The sports hall is mercifully free of décor. They drop their bags in the corner and begin to warm up, another stupid practice Jay insists on. His top rides up as he side-stretches. Isle rule: never show skin, especially to the enemy. Except, Jay loved to parade around in those stupid sleeveless vests. She’s yelled at him plenty of times about it—Are you insane? You’re a walking target. He would just grin and say, they’ll have to catch me first.

Jay laughs as he grabs the practice swords from their stands. “Here.” 

He throws it, and Mal catches. The weight in her hand is familiar. Already, her pulse is thrumming faster, and maybe if she closes her eyes she’ll be back on the docks, with the wind ripping at her hair, and the salt stinging her nose, and half a dozen of Uma’s crew jeering over the clanging of swords. 

Jay chucks her a mask too, before attaching one to his own face. The mesh turns her vision slightly hazy.

“Ready?” Jay asks.

Mal’s watched fencing practise a few times, mostly as an excuse not to do homework and instead watch her boys wipe the floor with all those prissy Auradon princes. Coach Jenkins appointed Jay captain of the team a few months ago, a role he takes more seriously than she’s ever seen him take anything. 

“Rassembler! Salute! Lower the point. Masks down. En guarde!”

Mal lunges first, which Jay clearly anticipates, parrying her blow. He circles. Strikes. Mal blocks it. He’s quick. Reflexes honed to a sword’s point; learned by practise and theory. Mal lashes out again, just catching his free arm before he jerks away. She grins underneath her mask. Her breath comes quicker. Jay’s blade arcs down, hitting her chest. Mal swats his blade away. She hears him laugh. She growls. Strike. Parry. Strike. Block. Strike. Jay lands another hit. Their shoes squeak against the linoleum floor. 

“Come on, Mal,” Jay teases. 

Mal lunges like a cat on its prey. Jay’s blade grates against hers like steel against flint. Jay may be quick but Mal’s smaller, and she weaves her way through Jay’s blade until they both have the sword’s point angled at each other’s chests. 

They’re both panting. Jay lowers his sword first. Takes off his mask. 

“You came in clutch at the end,” he says. 

Mal huffs, wiggling the mask off her face and wiping her forehead with a sleeve. “You actually get training.”

“And now I’m training you!” 

His hair has loosened during the sparring, spilling out at the seams. He unties the bun; flips his hair down and shakes it out. In this late-afternoon light, his hair could be made of gold. Hair longer than Mal’s ever had. 

He pulls his hair back into its bun, deft fingers making quick work. When he straightens back up again, his face is slightly flushed from the match. 

And Mal looks at this boy she’s known most of her life; this face and these hands; a boy that has held her at the end of the world and the start of a new one. And she snatches back down her mask. 

“Again,” she says, lifting up her sword. 

She’s swinging before Jay’s even had the chance to pull his own mask back down. Her blade slices against his chest, and she hears the breath escape from his lungs. 

“Fuck!’

Jay’s blocking her hits in no time. Mal grits her teeth. A boy who’s inhabited every place she’s ever been. The shadow along the street; a fixed point on the rooftops. Those long, quick fingers that know their way around bandage; around open flesh; around her own hands. Like a comet to Earth. Like an eclipse. Totally consuming. 

And here, where the sun shines brighter than they could have ever dreamed, she is left blistering. Those girls that fawn over Jay, professing their love with the same ease that Mal can hold a dagger to a throat. Jay’s clicking tongue, and that low fry to his voice when he’s chatting someone up. Everything is always so easy to him. He can wrap anyone around his finger with a wink. 

His blade slams into her stomach. Mal pants, the budding pain in her side clearing her head. Jay’s standing above her like some heavenly deity. 

“Best of four?” he offers.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“C’mon. Let’s take a break.”

Jay drops his sword and grabs his water bottle from his bag. Mal joins him, still gripping her sword, gulping down her water like a man in a desert. 

“We should do this again soon,” Jay says. 

“Tomorrow?”

“It’s the Valentine’s Ball tomorrow.”

Mal snorts. “Yeah, and?”

“I was gonna go.”

His words are coming too slow; too considered. Like when he used to talk about his dad, or a particularly bad Barge Day. Rehearsed. A guard dog who’s smelled danger, prowling at the sidelines. 

Mal presents her blade. “En guarde!” she shouts, and Jay ducks her swing before scrambling over to his own sword. 

“Really, Mal? Another sneak attack?”

“I’m keeping you on your toes.”

They waltz around the sports hall, the blades clashing and slicing and singing.

“We all agreed we weren’t going to go to the Ball,” Mal says, jabbing at Jay.

“We never agreed anything.”

Jay lands a blow. They are at the dockyard, with its rotting wooden pier and dead fish stench. The screeching of metal; the shouting; Mal’s heart hammering like the tide. Blood, and life. The roar in her ears. A dragon’s call. Body moving without a thought, as quick as a lightning strike. Not having to look behind her because she knows Jay is there.

“Exactly!” she says. “Why would we want to go to some stuffy Auradon ball?” Jay tries to say something but she ignores him. “Why would we care about Valentine’s Day? It’s corny, and over-commercialised, and a stupid excuse to make everything about love.”

Jay has her backed up against a wall. With no time to mount his mask, his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is escaping from his bun again. He looks just like he did on the Isle; none of his perfect prince act that fools Auradon. His sword hovers above her throat. 

“Do you yield?” His voice is low.

Mal stares at him. Those eyes that have seen every part of her. All the blood; every smile; her pale skin in the dark Isle nights. The boy that has beheld her every action; weighed it all against his own understanding of the world, and decided that they slot together as easily as a bullet in a pistol.

“Who are you going with to the Ball?” Mal asks. She’s still clutching her sword. She could claim the upper hand, if she really wanted.

A grin creeps across Jay’s face. All those notes and heart-shaped lollipops. The giggling girls at his locker. He could pick any one of them. All of them so beautiful, in their sunset-coloured dresses. He could have anything he wanted.

“Well,” Jay says. “I was going to ask you.”

The sword’s point makes sure they keep their distance. Never too close. All touches so light; so fleeting, as if you could’ve mistaken them for a dream. As if you could’ve imagined the whole thing. All those nights in the hideout where the barrier of the body seemed thin, and the world became so small: just two kids who wouldn’t even dare knock knees. 

So Mal shakes it all away with a laugh. “I’m not going to the Valentine’s Ball.”

Jay lowers his blade. Neither of them move. “Not even with me?” 

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other girls who actually want to go with you.”

“I want to go with you.”

His words echo through the empty hall. His word is as steadfast as ever, the only opinion Mal will ever trust. Compass, anchor: Jay does it all. 

Heralded here, Mal as real as the vast sky outside. Here, in his gaze, held aloft by trust where there shouldn’t be and compassion where there shouldn’t be and understanding where there shouldn’t be. A home for all her broken bones. 

Mal’s lips unfurl into a smile. This ache in her chest. In her throat. Jay always being able to disarm her. Jay in every place she’s ever been. Jay as her shadow; her skin; her second self. A reflection in the mirror. The line of separation is nonexistent. Like the sun, like the moon: one cannot exist without the other.

[science-lings]

For a possible prompt: Twilight showing a cat and her kittens to those of the chain who've never seen a cat before like Wild and Wind?

All that knew him, knew that Wild was impossible to keep stationary. He loved to wander and climb things, even when he wasn't traveling he tended to pace or at the very least fidget restlessly in place. Sleeping was always a battle, no matter how exhausted he was, he simply refused to settle down. Usually it took an equally stubborn wolf to pin him down for him to even attempt a nap.

It was a quiet morning in Lon Lon Ranch when Twilight was finally able to find a temporary solution. The day before, he had become friends with the ranch's incredibly friendly farm cat. Once he had gained her trust, she led him directly to a warm corner of the horse stables, where a litter of her tiny kittens awaited their arrival. They were too small to do more than stumble around on their own while crying for their mother, but just on the edge of being too large for her to carry them around by the scruff of their necks.

Needless to say, Twilight was MIA for a while after that.

However, the momma cat gave him an idea. Wild had awoken before the sun had fully risen, despite the fact that they had paused their travels and there was no conceivable reason for him not to take advantage of one of the rare safe mornings to sleep in. Twilight refused to consider that it was hypocritical that he was also awake this early for no reason.

The champion had settled sitting with his back against a tree, seemingly relishing the gentle quiet of the pre-waking world, breathing in the cool morning breeze, but posed in such a way that would suggest that any moment he was going to stand up and wander around. Twilight had to act before the kid had the chance to do so.

Wild was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden weight leaning against his side, he really didn't expect anyone else to be awake. He was about to utter a greeting when he saw what was in his mentor's grasp.

A tiny but strong squeaking noise that reminded him of a fox escaped the mouth of the palm-sized creature. He couldn't help but let out a gasp at the sheer smallness of the animal. His wide eyes snapped up to Twilight in a silent question that was delightfully answered when the baby... whatever it was, was handed over to him. He grinned when he realized that its fur was just as soft as it looked.

"I remembered that you don't really have cats in your time, which is incredibly tragic, so I decided that this is the perfect opportunity to educate you on something very important. This is a kitten."

"Its face kind of reminds me of a Lynel, but cute." Wild let the kitten curl up on his lap using his hand as a blanket.

"I guess a Lynel might be the closest thing you have to a cat..." Twilight muttered with a bit of horror in his voice. Wild merely laughed.

At this point, the mother cat had found them and her stolen baby, though she didn't seem very bothered. She sniffed Wild's bent elbow and rubbed up against him with a surprising aggressiveness. He patted her head, which she really seemed to enjoy. Despite this, she quickly left, seemingly satisfied with the care her child was left in.

Wild was disappointed in her disappearance but it was only for a minute, as she returned soon after with another kitten, placing it beside the first one on a confused champion's tunic.

"What is it doing?" He asked the Rancher nervously.

"She likes you. So much so that she wants you to babysit." He replied proudly.

"I just learned what a cat was, I don't think I'm qualified for this."

The cat left again, and she came back again with another kitten. At this point, Wild had started to get nervous, he wasn't sure he was ready for such responsibility.

"You're doing fine, just keep them warm." Twi raised an eyebrow at how seriously the kid was taking this.

The cat left, and she returned with a kitten. She did it again, and again, and again, until the kittens had all been transferred to their new babysitter.

Once all the kittens were accounted for, Twilight stood up again with a stretch.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Back to bed," he responded as if it were obvious, starting to stroll back to the house.

"You can't just leave me here! Twi! I'm not ready to be a mother!" His voice raised in volume as his brother got further and further away.

The mother cat curled up at his side, and he accepted the fact that he was stuck and wouldn't dare move, in fear of bothering the kittens. With a sigh, he patted the larger cat beside him, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be stuck like this.

Send me prompts?

[a-lesbianshadowinthenight]

there’s something about how jess and lupe gravitate towards each other immediately and understand each other with so little words exchanged. something about how they balance each other out. how they use their different worldview’s and perspective to strengthen their relationship rather than drive them apart that’s so so dear to me

jess immediately clocking lupe and not getting offended when lupe thinks it’s a dumb question

lupe not knowing where moosejaw is and jess begrudgingly amending it to canada

that could have easily become a situation where two people would have written off the other person

but they saw something in the other that they recognise in themselves that made them decide that they wanted to stick together

the way jess goes straight to lupe when beverley is explaining the house rules and lupe immediately complains to jess about the no pants rule

the way lupe’s voice goes from angry to soft in the locker room when she notices jess is upset about having to wear a dress, lupe comforting them because she knows

lupe not finding jess’ ‘sinking boat’ analogy weird and instead asking her to give specific details, the way you can tell she finds jess interesting

jess being the only one to second lupe when the rest of the team wrote her off as a bad fit to be coach

jess being happy to see lupe having confidence again (let’s not forget them biting their lip about it too, um okay loverboy)

jess taking the piss out of lupe to try and break her out of her bad mood (‘did that help?’ ‘…..yeah’) (ps also made lupe wanna kiss her. this is canon idc)

the fact that you can see they still seem to be seen near each other even after the fight incident, jess is behind lupe when carson is trying to be a stricter coach, when they’re still mad at lupe

the way they can disagree, get angry over things they don’t understand, and they hear each other out. jess starts out ripping into lupe about fighting amongst the team, only to realise they hadn’t seen it from lupe’s perspective

jess not needing an apology from lupe about the black eye (idk if lupe caused it directly or indirectly, but jess arguably blames her for it at first) because she now sees it from lupe’s side

jess understanding and then apologising in their own way, getting the whole team toasting lupe when they know she’d felt excluded in the past, showing lupe that they have her back in doing so

lupe knowing jess is sorry without them having to say it, understanding the implied meaning of jess’ toast. you can see by her reaction that she appreciates it (also loverboy over here blushing about it, i see you lupe)

arguably, the little nod lupe does after she thanks jess for the toast could be interpreted as her telling jess she understands it and they’re cool

the way they move past it and it’s water under the bridge, they’re back to being ‘brothers’

jess not being afraid to call lupe out on being hard on esti, challenging her when she pretends not to care that esti has run away. jess sees right through lupe’s facade, and witnessing that plus esti’s conversation with lupe in the car (even though she doesn’t know what esti is saying) knows that lupe needs to sort her shit out with esti, and orchestrates a situation where they can do it, without forcing lupe

lupe knowing exactly what jess did and instead of being angry is actually lowkey impressed (and a little turned on let’s not lie)

the fact that they both automatically run towards each other on the pitch when they get a home run or win and run into each others’ arms (lupe’s dorky grin is so adorable and sorry not platonic at all, that’s a smile you give someone when ur in loveeeee)

just the whole bar scene. they’re so in sync with each other, finishing each others’ sentences, teaching carson about gay culture together, the easy camaraderie of the arm wrestling (the kisses on the cheek!!!!!!!! twice!!!!! the second one where they’re both smiling!!!!!!) both of them automatically leaning towards saying no to carson when she asks if they’ve been with women here

i also think they very openly talk about their hookups together based off lupe showing jess her hickeys, and lupe telling jess veronica is a biter. i also think they would be each others wingmen (also think if/when they fuck each other they would have threesomes lmao)

(i also think they would tease each other for their very poor flirting skills)

them talking about sticking together on the off season and going to new york together (although i still can’t decide how their conversation indicates that, or the scene i’m thinking of isn’t the right one idk)

anyways tldr: they became unlikely but also inevitably each others person and challenge each other to be better, they’re a good team, they have great chemistry that draws them together. they are soulmates

[crystalbeastsquidney]

Bi-Han and Sareena talk about their names (word count: ~2.2k)

[just something I wanted to write for my 3-year t anniversary :0)]

[Don’t tag as ship]

“So, why ‘Bi-Han?”

The question caught him off guard. It wasn’t completely out of the blue, but a little forward for what they’d been talking about.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s just my name,” he answered. They were sitting on the stairs leading into one of the temple courtyards, the one with the statue of a large seated figure holding two lit braziers, one set in each palm. It was nighttime, but strong flames and the light of the full moon reflecting off the snow gave them more than enough to see. They’d gone out to get away from the bustle and noise inside for a spell, and had spent the past few minutes casually talking about their lives—the events that they’d gone through, the choices they’d made, and how that shaped them into the people they were now. Talking just to talk, and well, that was what she had ended up asking him.

Sareena laughed and playfully jabbed him in the side, “I mean why did you pick it. ‘Cold Wall’ isn’t exactly a common name, y’know—not one I’ve ever heard before.”

“Well, you’ve spent most of your life in hell, not exactly prime ground for hearing ‘common’ names, no?” Bi-Han quipped.

“Fair enough, I was just wondering.”

He looked out towards the horizon, idly watching the stars, and the clouds rolling across them shimmering under the moonlight. He knew full well what she’d meant, they had always talked freely about such things. Even if they didn’t, her and Ashrah had spent weeks—months even—reconstructing and restoring his body from death and corruption. It was doubtful she wouldn’t have noticed the scars just beneath his chest during all that time.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she added at his silence.

“No, it’s just… sort of long-winded, is all.”

Shrugging, Sareena leaned back resting her elbows on the steps behind her, “I’ve got nowhere else to be,” she smiled.

Bi-Han thought a moment, then smirked, “Then why don’t you go first? Why did you pick ‘Sareena?”

“I didn’t,” she answered plainly, “It’s always been my name—at least as far as I can remember.”

That gave Bi-Han pause, and he looked at her to ask, “You’ve never thought about changing it?”

She shrugged again, the pointed studs on the shoulders of her jacket glittering with reflected light. “No, it’s never really bothered me. It’s like…” she took her turn in gazing up at the sky as she spoke. The cold Arctika wind blew gently over the mountains—over Earthrealm—sweeping her hair into her face. She pushed that lock of white back behind her ear, feeling the heat of her face despite the cold as her hand brushed against her cheek. She still bore the evidence of her past, the hellfire that coursed through her veins, the very heat keeping her comfortable in a simple jacket left open in the front while Bi-Han sat bundled up beside her. And yet here she was, away from the Netherrealm, free from Quan Chi… To think those dreams that had once seemed so far off and fleeting had come true so long ago already. It was…

“Serenity; the state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled,” she said, staring at the moon.

“In that case, it doesn’t sound like it fit you that well when we first met,” Bi-Han commented.

“No, no it didn’t.” She laughed and continued looking upward, admiring the lunar halo shining above, tranquil against the dark night sky. “But it does now.”

Bi-Han smiled for her and watched the moon as well, until he felt her eyes move to him half-expectantly.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, “…This is probably going to sound unrelated at first, but bear with me.”

Sareena gave him an understanding nod, and waited, eyes alight listening intently.

Rubbing his hands together to chase away the late night chill, Bi-Han began. “You know well enough that being a cryomancer is a big deal in the Lin Kuei, and our titles are no different. They’re like our second names. I don’t really know if Kuai Liang’s kept it around or not, but we used to have this tradition where, in order to receive your title, you had to first prove your cryomancy—“

He paused when Sareena made a face. It was subtle, but apparent enough in how her brow scrunched.

“Prove?’ What, did they line everyone up to make sure they could actually shoot little snowflakes from their fingertips?” she joked, even waggling her own in his face.

Being a demon, her breath condensed thick and foggy between them given the extra heat. Bi-Han laughed, lightly smacking her hands away. “It wasn’t that simple, just having cryomancy wasn’t the point,” he clarified, “It was about having purpose and precision. It’s one thing to blindly shoot ice from your hands—knowing how to use it is another thing entirely.”

“Gosh, it must have been a lot then,” her demeanor quickly shifted, knowing what she knew of the Lin Kuei before Kuai Liang had taken the helm.

“Eh, not really—maybe back when the clan was only cryomancers it was more involved, but by mine and Kuai Liang’s time, it was a formality; a rite of passage for the cryomancers we did have. I got my title when I was about… six or seven I think.”

Sareena’s eyes were full and bright with curiosity at this point. Bi-Han couldn’t tell if it were the fire reflecting in them, or if her retinas produced a natural eyeshine. Either way, her pupils were lost in the sharp red of her irises. “Then what did you have to do?” she asked.

He brought the memory to his mind’s forefront and carefully recounted it so as to not miss any of the details. “How it went was… you’d sit across from a fellow cryomancer, typically your oldest male relative—since, traditionally, he was who picked your name. For Kuai Liang and myself, it was our Grandfather. We both would create a ball of ice in our hands and—” he paused as he mimed the motion, one hand above the other, fingers slightly hooked pointing to the opposite wrist, as if caressing the empty space between. He had hardly realized he was doing it, but the resulting melancholy came with the reminder of what he’d lost. No ice formed as he continued the motion, no matter how hard he focused, or visualized.

A soft noise stirred him, and he looked up to see Saibot had emerged from wherever they’d been hidden away in the shadows. They sat in the snow a short distance in front of him and Sareena, listening with similar intrigue. His cryomancy was gone, likely never to return, but it had been replaced by something he could never imagine giving up.

He continued, “At the Grandmaster’s prompting, we would cause the ice to dissipate and reform in tandem. We did this six times, and if he thought you had displayed proper control over your cryomancy, you were allowed to receive your title.”

“Why six times?” Sareena asked, ever the inquirer.

Bi-Han shrugged, “probably because it’s a lucky number, or maybe it was something to do with how snowflakes always have six points.”

“Wow, okay, so your Grandfather named you Sub-Zero?” she looked to him with soft wonder.

He bit back a laugh, “You’re getting ahead of me. Sub-Zero was his title, I only inherited it… later.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Sareena deflated, a little embarrassed at herself.

“It’s alright.” He looked out at the skyline again, thinking about that same memory still, and the nights when his dear Yéye took him and Kuai Liang out on nights just like this to tell them the stories written in the stars. He remembered the cold hands that had pinned his medallion bearing the Lin Kuei’s insignia to his robes—how it hung with a notable weight from his small frame—and the hug that had followed. His arms might have been chilly, but his heart was not.

“He named me… Glacier; Bīngchuān.”

Sareena sat quietly for a moment, taking it all in, and then said, “And he named your brother ‘Tundra’, right?”

“Mmhm, he actually had a reason for that. Apparently, when glaciers move they tend to erode everything in their path into a flat, open plain. I guess his idea was that as a glacier travels, it paves the way for a tundra to form.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Sareena beamed. “Your grandfather sounds like an intelligent man.”

Bi-Han chuckled, “I’m sure he’d be happy to know you think that kindly of him.”

They both went quiet for a few seconds, just existing in the moment, until Sareena finally asked, “So how did you get ‘Bi-Han’ from ‘Bīngchuān?”

He shuffled where he was seated, the frigid stone starting to numb his legs, “Well, I guess we’re alike in that regard—I didn’t.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly when Sareena whipped her head around to stare at him, “it’s honestly kind of embarrassing thinking about how it’s the reason I have my name and all…”

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” her face erupted into a devilish grin. Saibot likewise prodded him, wanting to know as well.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, shooing them both away. He knew full well they would force the issue if he resisted, and figured it didn’t really matter anyway. His name was his name, and nothing would ever change that. “See the thing is, ‘Bīngchuān’ does mean ‘glacier’, but when you look at the hanzi it’s literally ‘ice river,” he began to explain, “which isn’t wrong, but it’s not really how most people think about them either, I would say.”

Saibot and Sareena just kept looking at him, waiting for the rest.

“The thing is, I was pretty young when I got my title, and Kuai Liang’s almost three years younger than me… so he understood that my title was ‘Bīngchuān’, but he didn’t know that it meant glacier, or even what one was…”

They kept staring, only now Sareena was struggling to hide a wide grin plastered across her face.

He continued, averting his eyes, “Anyway, one day I took him out to part of the inner wall of the temple ramparts and tried to explain it by covering a section in ice. I was hoping he’d realize glaciers are like walls of ice, but…” and then he sighed again, “instead, he said it was like a—”

“Bi-Han? Oh, there you three are,” Kuai Liang’s voice came from the temple doors behind them. Soft light poured out from inside, silhouetting him in its glow. He stopped after a second, standing in the open archway, “…Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope! Sounds like you’re right on queue,” Sareena quipped. She turned to Bi-Han and added, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, that’s actually super cute. I wish my name could’ve had a basis like that.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re talking about,” Kuai Liang realized, coming down the steps to join them for a minute. He sat between them, wrapping an arm around his brother as he had noticeably begun to shiver beneath the many coats he was wearing. “You never wanted me to call you anything else.”

“I know,” Bi-Han said, soft and sentimental, hugging him back. He loved his name and the fact that Kuai Liang was who had given it to him. The details just felt a little overtly childish and silly, was all. He hadn’t even needed to choose it either, eventually he just preferred it over his birth name, and the rest followed suit.

Another voice came from the temple, cutting through the moment, “Did you find him yet?”

They all looked to see Johnny as he peered through the doorway, already shivering from the cold. “Oh, hey—get back in here man, we all wanna do cake already,” he said to Bi-Han.

“Why do you need me for that?”

Everyone gave him a look before Johnny said, “Dude, it’s literally your birthday.”

“I’m kidding,” Bi-Han grumbled after they continued to stare, “I thought out of everyone, you were supposed to be the expert of picking up on jokes.”

Sipping from whatever drink he had in hand, Johnny turned back into the temple’s warmth, back to the small party they were throwing, “I am. You’re just bad at telling ‘em,” he said nonchalantly, and laughed while walking away.

Kuai Liang laughed as well, and urged both his brother and Sareena to their feet. Bi-Han took a moment first to fashion a cane out of shadows to help in standing, and kept it firm in hand as he walked.

Sareena trailed behind beside him, trudging up the temple steps. “Y’know, I think it’s nice that you were able to have your family name you like that,” she smiled.

“Yeah? I guess it is.” He thought as they walked, about how she wished her own name’s meaning were a little deeper. “…Hey, um, would you want to be called ‘Serenity?” he asked simply.

“That’s okay, I’m happy with ‘Sareena’. But thanks.”

He smiled and nodded. Together they filed back into the temple after Kuai Liang, with Saibot returning to Bi-Han’s shade in the gentle light. Back to the warmth, kindness, friends and family that a life renewed had bestowed him with.

[ftmcollective]

i had a little essay/zine planned for halloween which i of course missed the date for so prepare for a spooky mid november post

[kurtsascot]

getting older- KWS 2023 Day 2

written for klaine word scramble day 2!

been writing a lot of angst in my wip so i felt inspired to write some fluff- this challenge was super fun;;

i will crosspost on ao3 once i get back from vacation.

enjoy married klaine that is canon (?) compliant

blaine anderson/kurt hummel

rated T, 2394 words

summary: blaine discovers he needs glasses. kurt helps him cope with getting older.

words used: realign, linger, gel, glare, angle

Blaine always knew that this was a possibility, but he didn’t think today would be the day.

“You need glasses,” the shopping mall optometrist says with a degree of nonchalance that only annoys Blaine further. He’s tapping away at his chunky, dated keyboard, working to pull up Blaine’s vision prescription, avoiding eye contact. Blaine has determined that his vision must be so horrendously disgusting that looking him in the eye is out of the question. “You’re getting older, and so are your eyes.”

“I don’t wear glasses,” Blaine says, like it’s a valid argument. “I can’t need glasses.”

The optometrist doesn’t look back. He hits print. “Well, you do need them.” He swivels in his chair and faces Blaine, eyebrows raised, with a face that mimics parental disappointment. “And you should wear them.”

He gets up to leave and Blaine is on his heels. “You don’t get it,” Blaine says, and he’s whining, but this guy really just doesn’t get it. “I’m an actor. Stage makeup is already enough of a headache without glasses or contacts. I can’t have my roles limited.” There’s another optometrist in Blaine’s path, and Blaine does a quick side step to avoid running straight into her. He nicks the back of his optometrist’s-he just met the guy and Blaine’s not possessive but right now this guy is his- heels in the stumble. “Shit, sorry.”

The man hands Blaine’s file off to the receptionist. “Are you really arguing with me?” He straightens out his lab coat, and Blaine tries not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Why does this guy have a lab coat on in the middle of an Ohio mall? He’s not even a real doctor-why is Blaine listening to him? “Look, you can’t see up close, and your distance vision needs a little help. Since you are more farsighted, you can probably get away with not wearing any glasses on stage and see just fine.”

“Probably?” Blaine needs something definitive.

Fake-doctor guy just shrugs. “I don’t know what you do for a living, man, and I really don’t care.” He gestures with his working, perfect eyes behind Blaine. “Go pick out some frames. We have a buy-one-get-one sale going on.”

Blaine doesn’t move. He shuffles on his feet. His hand roots around his pants pocket for his phone. “This can’t be happening,” he mutters to himself.

The receptionist gives the optometrist a worried look. He just shrugs again and walks off into the back.

Blaine momentarily entertains following him- he wasn’t even done talking to him- but, no, that’d be crazy and controlling. Blaine’s trying to not be like that anymore.

The receptionist’s voice pulls Blaine out of his crisis. She sounds mousy. “Glasses aren’t that bad,” she tries. “They can help elevate your personal style.”

“My style does not need elevated,” Blaine defends, shooting a text. He’s squinting at the screen as he sends it, hoping that whatever blurred jargon he typed actually meant something. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“If this is the worst day of your life, can we switch places?” Her expression is less affectionate now, and she gives Blaine a pointed look. “I have to deal with disgruntled customers arguing with our staff and moping.”

Blaine’s eyes may narrow at her, but it’s honestly half a squint. He lets out a huff. “It’s not personal. I’m not mad at you specifically.”

“Right, but you are taking it out on me.”

Blaine opens his mouth to defend himself, but stops. He knows she’s right. “I’m sorry,” he offers. For the first time since stepping in the store, he actually looks around. “Any of the frames here will work with the sale?”

She offers Blaine a soft smile. “Any frames. You will have to let me know if you want two pairs bifocals, or one pair of bifocals and one pair for distance, or-“ She starts shuffling through Blaine’s file, and her gaze stops mid-way on the page. “I would recommend bifocals.” She looks up at Blaine. “How long have you not been able to see?”

Now, Blaine’s embarrassed. He looks around the store and no one is pointing and laughing at him, so, that’s good. No ones even paying attention to him.

Somehow, it still feels like they are. “I’m going to go look at frames,” he mutters, saying it aloud to hold himself accountable, and steps away from the counter.

Shopping for glasses, Blaine discovers, should be a torture tactic that the US government reserves for enemies of the state. The frames look promising displayed, but none look right on his face. Certain frames look so similar that the price jump is laughable. Other frames Blaine doesn’t even attempt to try on because, well, there is a reason some of them are so cheap. They look clunky or dated.

Like the frames, Blaine feels dated. He isn’t one to get hung up on age, but he’s in his thirties now, and today, well, he is feeling that old.

Older, even. He should just check himself into an retirement village at this point. First his eyes, then his mobility-his mind surely is soon to follow, if he hasn’t started to lose it already.

Blaine might currently be losing it.

Blaine loves sunglasses shopping. Sunglasses shopping makes him feel chic. Why is this so painful?

Blaine’s just staring at the discarded, already tried-on and not instantly hated frames lined up in front of him when Kurt shows up.

“I got your text.” Kurt looks a little flustered. He hangs his sunglasses off the neckline of his shirt. “What’s the emergency?” Across his collarbone there’s a thin sheen of sweat from the summer heat, and Blaine can’t help but look. “Hey-my eyes are up here.”

Blaine tears his focus away from Kurt’s neck and up to his face. He is looking at Blaine with a soft, amused expression, but there’s some tension held in his jaw. “You came.”

“What’s the emergency?” Kurt asks. He plays with Blaine’s hair a top of his head. It was humid today, and Blaine had to use some gel. He wishes he would have been able to keep his hair fluffy-maybe this whole ordeal wouldn’t feel so restrictive. “Are your eyes going to fall out of your head?”

“I need glasses,” Blaine laments.

Kurt blinks at him, then steps back and scoffs. “I left work early because you need glasses?!”

“Shit-I forgot what day it was.”

“I can’t skip out on rehearsal, Blaine. I can’t set a bad example for all the fresh-out-of-college extras.”

“I know.” Blaine groans. “I’m sorry. I was-I am freaking out, okay.”

“I got that from your text,” Kurt deadpans, but gets closer to him nonetheless, so they are standing shoulder to shoulder. His eyes survey the plethora of frames in front of them. “You need glasses?” The question sounds softer now, more emphatic.

“Bifocals,” Blaine corrects with a grimace. “I’m officially old.”

“I’m older than you.”

“And yet, you don’t need glasses.”

Kurt picks up a frame holds it up to the light, turning his hand to take it in from a different angle. “I take care of my eyes,” he says, not looking at Blaine. “I told you those exercises I do are important.” He tilts his head and passes Blaine a glance. “You should stretch your eyes, especially when you insist on reading in low light. Or, at least put on a lamp.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, but he’s not really listening. He’s focusing on the endless variety of frames in front of him and how they are all terrible and make him feel terrible.

“Hey.” Kurt places a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and holds him steady, rubbing his thumb in small circles. “Do you want my help?”

Tension is released from Blaine’s shoulders that Blaine wasn’t aware he was holding. He visibly exhales and hangs his head. “Yes.” He rolls his shoulders back and picks up one of the glasses frames he has been eyeing, putting them quickly over his ears. “What do you think of these?” Blaine asks as he turns away from the mirror and towards Kurt.

Kurt fights off a nose twitch and steps back. “Those are-“ He knows Blaine is going through it, and he’s trying to be polite-“Different.” A beat. “I don’t think they suit you.”

“You can say they look bad on me.”

Kurt exhales a sigh of relief. “They look bad on you,” he admits. “You look like a cartoon character,” he adds without thought.

Blaine laughs and puts the glasses back on the display, far away from his pile of maybes. He picks up another pair, puts them on, and turns towards Kurt. “Okay. And these?”

Kurt blinks at him. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.” He looks up. “You know, with the lighting and the glare.”

“I can get anti-glare lenses.”

“Yeah…” Kurt trails off.

Blaine takes off the glasses and puts them back with an amused hum.

“Look,” Kurt says. He starts going through Blaine’s pile and putting the ones back that he hates, not even asking Blaine to try them on. “You can get frames anywhere. It doesn’t have to be here. We can order a bunch online and try them on at home.”

“Yeah, but,” Blaine clears his throat and picks up a pair that Kurt hasn’t gotten to yet. He puts them on and says to his reflection, “If I don’t get them today, I feel like I won’t get them at all.”

Kurt watches Blaine in the mirror. There’s a moment where Kurt studies Blaine’s face, and then, he lets out a sigh. “Okay.” He steps forward and looks at the frames in front of him, only this time, he is actually looking at them. “Let’s do this then.”

Instantly, Kurt picks up a pair from the wall and hands them to Blaine by one of the ear pieces. “This one,” Kurt says, sounding so sure of himself. Blaine falls a little more in love with him. “This one is nice.”

Blaine swaps the pair he has on for Kurt’s selection. It’s different from the others he tried on, but they look okay, Blaine thinks- they aren’t prescription yet, so, like, he can’t be sure he doesn’t look stupid. “I like them.” Blaine means it when he says it, but he’s not entirely convinced that he can be someone that just…wears glasses. “Do you like them?”

Kurt nods. “I do. You look distinguished.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow and leans closer to the mirror. “You think?” He turns his face side to side. “Isn’t distinguished a nicer way to say old?”

“No, it’s something entirely different.” Kurt places both his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and gives them a little rub. “Distinguished is hot.” He pecks Blaine’s cheek, his lips against his stubble. “You look hot.”

Blaine feels the smile before he sees it. He straightens his posture a bit, and gives himself another look. “Okay, you’re right. I like them.” He turns to face Kurt on his heels, snaking his hands around his lower back. “Thank you.”

Kurt hums in response, a small smile spread across his face. He gives Blaine’s shoulders a squeeze and brings his lips down to meet Blaine’s. It’s mostly innocent-they are in public- but Kurt’s affection always gives Blaine a lingering, floaty feeling, and now that they have settled on a pair of glasses, Blaine’s mind is floating away along with his restraint to keep this kiss simple and chaste.

When Kurt pulls back, he takes a bit of Blaine’s heart with him. Blaine thinks he has a bit of Kurt’s heart too- if they were keeping score over all these years, Blaine thinks there’s an even split. “I love you, you know that right.” Kurt pulls the glasses down Blaine’s face by the nose bridge, letting them rest on the tip. “Bad eyesight and all.”

Blaine’s grinning like an idiot, but he doesn’t care. He pushes the frames back to realign them. “I love you too,” Blaine says. He glances back towards the receptionist, who waves them over, looking entertained. “We should pay for these. If you are serious about them.”

Kurt steps back and pulls the frames off of Blaine’s face. “I didn’t even look at the price,” he mumbles as they make their way towards the counter. In a couple weeks, they’ll have to come back once the lenses come in to get the frames fitted, but today, it feels like the glasses are already Blaine’s.

Then, Kurt lets out an unsettled, amused squeak as he eyes the price tag, and his cheeks pinken.

Blaine attempts to decipher the number, but Kurt holds the frames over Blaine’s head and passes them to the secretary, taking advantage of their slight height difference. “Don’t worry about it,” Kurt says, pulling out his wallet “My treat.”

“Kurt-“

“Blaine, if you knew how much they were,” he says as the woman swipes his card, “you wouldn’t get them.”

Blaine blinks. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Hey,” Kurt leans on the counter and Blaine’s eyes naturally follow the motion. “They make you happy. You like them. Let me get you something you like-I splurge on my own wardrobe often enough.” The receptionist hands Kurt’s card back, and Kurt grabs it between two fingers. “We can invest in something that you wear every day.”

��You make me happy,” Blaine corrects, watching as Kurt places the card back in his wallet. “I don’t need anything expensive.”

“Well, buying you this makes me happy.” Kurt hold’s Blaine’s forearm and gives it a squeeze. It’s like Kurt knows Blaine’s floating, and he’s prepared to anchor him. “Let me be happy.”

Blaine finds himself nodding because, really, there isn’t another option when Kurt is looking at him like that, with a fondness that seems intuitive, as natural as breathing. “Alright.” He’s smiling and presses a kiss to Kurt’s lips. It’s half teeth, but it’s perfect. “Let’s be happy together.”

A little later, as they shuffle around car seats to find space for Kurt’s impromptu clothing haul and throw away half-opened water bottles and their daughter’s forgotten candy wrappers, Blaine realizes that getting older isn’t so bad, as long as he can do it with Kurt.

Glasses have a way of letting you see things clearly.

[menaceadored]

Okayyyy so a big thing that has been holding me back while writing this fic that no one is wanting or anticipating is that I had this idea to create a second conflict for Nancy with school for the B plot, but then that conflict became two conflicts when I added my OCs and it all just got way more convoluted than I anticipated- so in order to move forward with this story, I’m cutting the B plot down significantly so I can refocus on Robin and Hawkins and less on the OCs in Boston