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cz19y · 5 months ago

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CARS ! Part 2 [HCs]

BLLK × GN!Reader

[!] A.U. — Cat / Them as Cats ! . . . [ Part 1 ]

∆ Fluff, PLATONIC, NO ROMANCE, pet & owner dynamic, OOC[?], hint(no description or assumption) of depression[Bachira's part], mention of Nagi[Reo's part duh], no cat breed description because I'm lacking in cat knowledge, grammar & spelling errors[? NOT proofed]

FT.: Bachira Meguru & Mikage Reo

NOTE: Im SO sorry for the wait anon T.T — just came back from a trip and I'm tired as heck

NOTE2: kinda deleted the ask by accident, sorry :'0 (btw ty for the words, anon, I felt extremely appreciated frfr I luv u)

[ starting . . . ]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

BACHIRA ’s natural nature of lighting the room with his bright personality is something everybody adores.

But of course; you're his favorite after all.

This cat is CLINGY — is trailing behind you 90% of the time you're home. Type of cat to sit and wait for you at the door till you come from work.

He suffers from loneliness(lol I'm sorry I had to add this) and needs your presence urgently. Just being in the same room as the yellowish cat is more than enough for him.

So lonely you even caught him playing like there was another cat in the room. You're worried about him and it creeped you out because he meowed and purred at the empty space.

Purrs loudly often, affectionate and bold and specially not afraid of anything.

Being unafraid can be good and bad. Bachira is a pro at giving you heart attacks.

Jumps over the hot stoves multiple times, gets stuck in the most random places and somehow gets dangerous objects to fall exactly 1 cm away from him.

You swear Bachira is in his last life at this point because he also gets in big fights with some other cats.

You have to idea of how he’s so good at fighting, but judging by how he is; you assume it was when he was still a kitten.

According to his last owner; he grew up obsessed with playing with the soccer ball(still is). Your storage is full of several videos of Bachira playing around with the ball. It's so cute you just want to grab him and pamper him to death.

Vets? Hell nah. He's not a fan of it at all. Even tries to avoid you by disappearing. But go along with it for the sake of not worrying you.

It’s fun and hell at the same time giving him baths, he won't stay still and gets soap all over.

Fur; all over your house. Doesn't even bother to clean. That didn't come with him in the package.

Very active, takes half a century to make him sleep and half a century to wake the feline up..

Bachira loves being with other cats, specially with a certain brunette, and a pink-ish like and an oranged one.

Sleeps tangled in your sheets. And wakes up on the floor.

Bachira is a big fan of cuddling, it’s by your side any moment given.

Tries his best to lighten you up when you're down. But it's not the type of “energetic lighten up”, it's more like a sincere movement of just sitting by your side and being there while you have your moment of distress.

He's there when you sob your worries out, when you're melancholic among your sheets without moving much, having your tired eyes check your phone with apathy and turning it off with a sight, or when you're locked up in the bathroom for hours.

Well; he is too, a little goofy, but it always works on you.

He just wants to be there for you like you were there for him.

The amount of attention this cat needs from his loved ones is insatiable.

REO needs to be by your side at least 60% of his day.

The other 40% is either being active on his daily exercises, somehow working his brain out, taking care of himself, or being around the cat he brought from the streets…

Ah. Nagi, of course. The white cat is such an often guest you may as well just make a room for him.

Reo brought this gigantic cat up one day and it scared the hell out of you because every other cat made him lose interest. The purplish suddenly bringing someone up made your heart jump.

Both are really affectionate towards you(how cute) — although Reo acts a bit off all of the sudden sometimes… is he.. jealous of his own guest? Or is he jealous of his own owner? This cat switches up so many times you gave up trying to figure it out.

He is the most different of all cats. He has a way with everything and successful in earning the things he wants. Even able to act like other cats — you're surprised of how your fellow companion is.

Bro’s so unique Reo even likes vets… he really likes to take care of himself. Fur 10/10, cutted claws, pretty eyes, smart.. he even has his own diet…

He smells like rich. He prefers luxury items and treatment as well… Hope your salary is capable of handling that.

Doesn't function properly without you — he at least needs to be reassured you're still there for him.

Reo purrs happily when you recognize him.

Guests? Sure, he doesn't mind. As long as they don't touch him, he doesn't care about entertaining them a little.

Indifferent about being with other cats — he takes a popular position among them and often attracts other cats even… problem is that he gets bored easily.

Talking about bored; you have to be very specific for Reo to even like you 😭 or at least, full of surprises that will make him locked in you like Nagi did to him. But dw he loves you <3

Isn't the type to get into a fight. But the last time Reo did; you never saw him stubborn and irritated. It was all because of a black cat… you and Nagi glanced at each other as Reo stormed around.

It's either sleep in his own bed or sleep in your bed. He likes how your bed smells like you.

Morning with this cat is peaceful, might as well have your daily routine done along with him.

When Reo senses that sad aura around you, he is immediately on you. You cannot hide any type of worry around Reo. Not Reo — he knows you all too well, don't you dare hide anything from him, he feels sad if you do it.

He snuggles up to you when the night falls, and he will wake you up when the sun rises, he is there by you all the time.

You're his top priority, will abandon anything to make you feel alright.

#wrote this in one day im not okay #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk bachira #bachira x reader #bllk reo #reo x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #bllk x gender neutral reader #zzzy:fic

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verdemoun · 6 months ago

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how the flip does arthur cope with no dutch?? for the first time in so so so long there is no dutch??

oh ouch thank you for reminding me what a question. this is high honor helped john escape arthur. an arthur who died alone because dutch walked away but he died holding onto the relief that dutch didn't go with micah. maybe dutch had a chance, maybe dutch could save himself

hosea and bessie silently agree they need to protect him from that knowledge for as long as possible and for just barely long enough arthur isn't curious. they've gotten pretty decent at helping people adjust to the timewarp! you don't start with btw we're in the future we know about everything that happens to the gang and it's awful.

they focus on the happy things like hey we're okay, we're all together and we're here. things are really different there's a lot of noises and smells and things to get used to like cars are mainstream. going outside means the constant noise of engines instead of horses. sometimes you can hear electricity humming and that is a really weird noise but look how easy it is to make toast! so many foods that were like insanely difficult/risky to get like milk are just parts of life. you can put milk in coffee without it instantly coagulating it's okay that the milk been in the fridge for four days it tastes the same as when we opened it

arthur jumps like a cat for at least 2 weeks every time the toaster pops but if there's one routine he picks up insanely fast it's the simple joy of waking up and having warm toast with coffee in the morning. arthur morgan figuring out what he likes on toast. the first weekend where bessie is home and he wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes (not because bessie is a homemaker but because the gang are yet to prove themselves capable of using a gas stove (hosea will take over one day and be too passionate about the perfect fried egg)) i'm so sorry i'm getting off topic but the sheer joy he would get out of the smallest simple modern pleasures

arthur wanted to get out of the gang, in the end. he wanted to rest and it literally took him dying to get it because he was so loyal to dutch. it's a relief to rest even if he isn't physically drained and sore because of tb anymore but that mental fatigue is still there. he went through so much and now he gets to rest knowing that the people he had to mourn are there. he gets to sleep in a bed every night instead of it being something he pays for the luxury of. it's comforting dutch isn't there because it means dutch is still alive somewhere

but it's innevitable. hosea, bessie, annabelle, even lenny and sean, waiting in dreadful anticipation for the day arthur connects the dots that they aren't in an alternate universe they are in the gang's future and they know what happens to them. and dutch-

hosea has to be the one to tell him. knowing arthur tried, remembering the relief in arthur's face literally days after processing his own death as arthur explains at least dutch didn't go with micah because arthur tried and he thought dutch had a chance of becoming himself again. it's the worst conversation in his life - explaining to his unruly son that dutch did change but he went back to micah. he got the blackwater money. he started a new gang that were almost a parody of the o'driscolls and killed innocents like muriel scranton just for a chance to escape. that eagle flies's death meant so little to dutch that he went out of his way to continue exploiting the anger of displaced young native americans to make up his new gang. that a professor that worked with john wrote about the night dutch van der linde jovially told john that he was going to kill him for 'i don't know, sport, i guess?' and dutch died in 1911 reportedly killed by john himself (according to the bureau's reports)

god fellas would it be enough to make arthur cry? christ i still don't think he would be able to let himself cry in front of hosea and tries to be dismissive like well we all saw what he was becoming after blackwater. reminds me of something rains fall said about people not changing, just becoming more of who they always were. guess we (john and I) were right in the end, maybe we hadn't really known dutch at all and we were never who we thought we were (who dutch told us we were, we were never idealists, we were killers from the damned start)

but he does cry. alone. in the bedroom that sometimes felt so comfortably private but suddenly feels like more of a box than his wagon back at camp. the fact he still thinks of back at camp, like it's something he can go back to. he still misses dutch. old dutch. he misses camp before blackwater and they made a goddamn mess of everything and he cries because he misses it. he still can't doesn't want to believe that dutch, old dutch who still cared and believed in things before he started making bad choices and plans went wrong, was the same dutch that went back to micah after arthur tried so hard to convince him. his last words were still pleading for dutch to realize he changed and to change back into the infallable, god-like man he admired. finding out he wasted his breath.

#rdr2 timewarp au #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #good afternoon america can i interest you in some emotional devastation

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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 2 months ago

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Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter Eleven - I'll Take A Quiet Life

Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Jack's daily life as a shell shocked former soldier, struggling to function.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading guys! We're down to five chapters left ☺ Btw this is several months later. At this point Jack has been in Gotham for almost a year.

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit

If you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know! <3

< Previous - Next >

Nestled comfortably underneath his covers and clinging to his pillow, Jack slept peacefully. His curly hair was sprawled out on the sheets going in different directions. He wore a dark sweatshirt, his boxers, and purple socks.

All that could be heard was the quiet hum of air passing through the vent on the ceiling above and his soft breathing. Such blissful sleep was a rare occurrence so he treasured every minute that he could get it.

Sunlight peeked in through the curtains and streaked across his face, shining on the bridge of his nose and highlighting his freckles. The light hitting his eye brought him out of the comforting embrace of sleep and woke him up.

He sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes, his messy hair falling over them. With a yawn, he climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth while he was there, proud of himself that he remembered to do it.

Jack decided to skip his usual morning workout and instead walked into the kitchen to make breakfast. He opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves for something to eat, eventually choosing sausage and two eggs. He cut out two patties from the sausage roll and put them on a frying pan on the stove, turning it on and adjusting the heat.

While he waited on that to cook, he cracked the two eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork. Once the sausage was done, he used the same pan to cook the eggs and scrambled them, adding in some black pepper.

He moved the food to the table once it was done and grabbed some juice from the fridge. He didn’t bother with a cup because he would obviously be the only one drinking it so he just drank straight out of the container. Yet another sign of his growing carelessness.

As he ate, he glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall from across the table and noticed some writing on the current date.

Oh shit, rent’s due today.

Shaking his head, Jack finished up his breakfast and put the used dishes in the sink. He went back to his bedroom to change his clothes so he could go downstairs to pay the rent. He had to get a grip. Whatever this spell in his life was, it was causing him to forget the most basic of tasks and he normally wasn’t forgetful at all. Maybe it was the military man in him but he liked being timely and getting things accomplished.

After he threw on something halfway decent, he grabbed an envelope filled with cash out from his junk drawer and his keys. He left his apartment and locked the door behind him, taking the stairs so he could avoid people. Once he was downstairs, he approached the landlady’s office and knocked on the door.

“Mrs. Vernon?” Jack called out, shocked at his own voice which was slightly hoarse from disuse.

“Come in, dear!” The eccentric redhead responded.

Jack opened the door and stepped inside. He had to really hide his reaction when he saw what Lydia was preoccupied with. She had her black cat on the desk and was measuring it. There was a pile of purple and orange yarn beside the cat so Jack assumed it was to make clothes for it.

The landlady smiled and sat the tape measure down. “Just finishing up Sylvester’s measurements. Whatcha need?”

“Uh, rent’s due so here you go.” Jack said and handed her the envelope from his pocket.

“Oh that’s right. Thank you, Jack. If only all my tenants were this punctual. Sometimes I have to pry it out of a few of them.” Lydia chuckled.

Jack nodded.

“Are you doing alright, Jack? I haven’t seen you out that much.”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

Ha. Lies.

“If you say so. I’m here if you ever need anything. Just give me a call. Oh and you have mail by the way.”

Jack took a few steps towards the door and turned to leave. “Thanks, Mrs. Vernon.” He said over his shoulder.

He breathed a sigh of relief that the interaction was over. Another task completed. He walked to the other side of the lobby where rows of mail slots lined the wall. He found his and unlocked it. Inside it there was a check from the army he had been expecting for this month and a few envelopes of useless junk mail. He shoved them into his pocket and shut the slot back.

He trudged back up the stairs to his apartment and got off at the third floor. Someone else that lived on the floor saw him in passing.

“Good morning, neighbor.” She said cheerily.

“Morning.” Jack replied quietly and reached for his doorknob.

He didn’t have any type of relationship with his neighbors and he didn’t want to, but being polite was the least he could do. Even if he didn’t feel like being sociable.

As he came in the doorway, he put the mail on the counter and the check in his wallet to cash later. Then he sat down at the kitchen table with a tired sigh. He wasn’t sure what he was gonna do today.

When you didn’t work and lived alone it was easy to get bored. It made him restless. He liked the solitude but he needed something to do or he would go stir crazy. He had to keep his hands busy anyway because it distracted him from resurfacing memories and whatnot.

One of the main things he did to keep himself occupied was keeping a journal/sketchbook. It was a brown hardback that he found while running errands one day. He would write entries about the day's events or his thoughts. Other entries would be drawings or doodles that came to mind. Sometimes he would glue things in or make a collage. Whatever came to mind, he put to paper.

It seemed to work well enough. It kept his mind off things for a while. That was as good as it was gonna get. Screw therapy. It probably would have worked the exact same way, only more expensive and outside his space. Talking out his feelings to a stranger would cause him even more stress. So he stuck to the journal, deciding it would be a whole lot better in the long run.

Today he glued in some random pieces of the junk mail to make a collage, rearranging some of the words to make funny sentences. He liked to do that with newspapers too. Gotham’s papers were the best for that kind of thing with all their crazy headlines and bizarre stories.

On the back of the collage he doodled Mrs. Vernon with her cat, Slyvester. He couldn’t get that mental image out of his head of her measuring her cat so she could make tiny cat clothes. It made him chuckle a bit.

He closed his journal and put it and the art supplies away, after spending almost two hours in it. When he said the journal kept him busy, he meant it. He left the table and went into the living room. He plopped down on the couch to take a much needed nap.

…

That night he made grilled cheese for dinner. Something simple so he didn’t have to put in much effort but still passable as a meal. After he ate, he laid down on the couch again to unwind for the evening. On the coffee table beside him, the radio was playing some old 70s rock tunes. He closed his eyes and just listened, drowning everything else out.

The soft tunes emitted from the radio reminded him of his younger years. His mother would play records from Led Zeppelin or The Doors while they both cleaned the house.

He smiled as he thought back on those days. The fond memories and soft music helped him to relax as he settled comfortably into the couch cushions. If he were allowed to smoke inside, he’d totally be having a cigarette right about now.

A combination of the relaxed feeling he had and his full stomach slowly lulled him to sleep. He sensed he was getting ready to drift off so he reached over and turned off the radio as his last conscious act before he succumbed to sleep. Within minutes he was out cold.

…

Several hours later Jack woke up startled from yet another nightmare. His heart pounded in his ears and he struggled to catch his breath. It was still dark outside which let him know it was still very early in the morning and not the right time to be getting up. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sat up and scanned the room for reassurance.

You’re okay. You’re home. You’re safe.

He mentally chanted those words over and over to ground himself. Once he finally calmed down, he closed his eyes and tried his hardest to go back to sleep but he just couldn’t. After half an hour of trying, he gave up and turned on the TV to pass the time.

At first a news channel popped up, which was discussing stocks for Gotham’s business world. Jack rolled his eyes and surfed through the channels until something decent came up. He settled on a kids channel that was playing Tom and Jerry. Nothing like childhood nostalgia to distract him from the terrible evil of the world that constantly racked his brain.

More time passed and soon the sun crept in through the curtains, signaling to Jack that it was time to get up and go make himself something to eat. As he scoured the kitchen for food, he realized he needed to restock on groceries since he was running low on a lot of things. He outwardly groaned and facepalmed. The last thing he wanted was social interaction, especially after the rough start to the day.

He forced himself to suck it up, knowing that if he didn’t he wouldn’t have food. The best way to have a better day was to face it head on. He would be a productive member of society today. No if ands or buts about it.

After he finished breakfast, Jack took a quick shower and got dressed. He made sure to fix his hair a little and brush his teeth. ‘Civilized’ people frowned upon the disheveled. He stuffed his keys and his wallet into his pocket and went on his way, locking up the apartment behind him.

When he was outside the building, he took a right towards the shopping center that was a few blocks down. He walked there since it would save gas. There was really no point in driving to somewhere so close. Mentally preparing himself as he approached, he entered the grocery store through the automatic door and grabbed a basket from the front, keeping his head down as he went.

He walked through the aisles, grabbing the things that he needed and avoiding people when he could. Lately he found that the slightest things people did annoyed him. If someone got too close to him or if a group of people were in the same aisle he needed to be at, it bothered him.

Then there were the times people actually did something to validly upset him. People had no mercy when it came to staring at him. It was bad enough that he was taller than most people and had this intimidating aura about him that tended to put others on edge.

The scar was the salt in the wound. He saw their eyes. It was unmistakable what they were looking at. They would quickly look away and pretend like they didn’t see him, as if the very sight of his gnarled face would give them a disease of some kind.

Pssh. Civilians were so easily startled.

Jack grabbed the last thing he needed and dropped it inside the basket, relieved that the shopping part was over. Now came the hard part. He walked back towards the front where the registers were and got in line.

While he waited, he looked over each of the items in his basket and internally read over their labels to keep himself from getting too overwhelmed. That was one of the biggest reasons he hated shopping. Sure other people were annoying but it was extremely stressful for him to be out in public.

It was now his turn in line so he stepped up and began unloading the basket onto the conveyor belt. As always he only spoke what was necessary to the cashier but maintained a certain amount of politeness.

The cashier finished bagging the groceries and told him the total. Jack produced his wallet from his pocket and he took out some money, handing it to the cashier. She gave him a receipt and his change, wishing him a good rest of his day.

Jack just nodded in response and grabbed the bags from the counter. He nearly made a beeline for the exit, glad to be away from that sensory overload.

While he was out he figured it would be a good idea to go ahead and cash that check he got in the mail. The bank was a few more blocks away but he didn’t mind walking. He reached the stone building a few minutes later and went inside.

He stopped at an electronic booth so he didn’t have to talk to a person. He took out some money to have as cash on hand and deposited the rest into his account.

Task two of the day completed. Now he could finally go back home.

When he got back, he unloaded the groceries and put them away. He noticed how messy his space was getting and decided to take action. Once he was done putting up groceries, he washed the dishes left in the sink and cleaned off the countertops. Then he tidied up around the living room and the table and swept the floors. The bathroom needed a touch up so he got to work on that. He also put the clothes lying on his bedroom floor in a laundry basket to be washed. By the time he was done cleaning nearly three hours had passed.

At this point it was almost dinner time and Jack was trying to figure out what to make. He pulled a box of pasta from a shelf in his pantry and decided to just wing it with some sort of pasta dish. He got the noodles started by leaving them in a pot on the stove to boil. While he waited on that he made a small salad to go with it, topping it with lots of cheese and an interesting looking dressing he found at the store.

When the pasta finished cooking, he mixed it in with a tomato sauce he let heat up in a pan. Once that was done, he topped it with a little garlic and plenty of cheese. He moved to the table with the food and fixed himself a plate.

The first bite was heavenly, a small reward for being productive today. He ate in complete silence as usual and relished in the peace and quiet.

Jack started to get full after a while so he saved what was left over for later and cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. He put away the supplies he used and tossed the dirty dishes in the sink.

Just as he picked up a dish to wash, the pan on top of it fell with a loud crash, making him jump back and drop the dish he was holding.

Instantly he was brought back to the battlefield. The loud noise rang in his ears, imitating the explosions. He covered his ears with his hands and got down on his knees, curling in on himself and whimpering in pain.

No matter how hard he tried to snap out of it, the illusion wouldn’t budge. All he could do was stay there on the floor and ride it out until his brain decided to leave him alone.

After what felt like forever, the noise and the visions eventually subsided, leaving him shook up and struggling to breath. He felt a lump form in his throat and choked over the sob he tried to keep back but couldn’t.

This attack came out of absolutely nowhere and scared him to death. Loud noises never bothered him that much before and he never thought of them as triggering. This was completely unexpected.

Jack hit his head against his hands and scolded himself. Stop crying, you whimp! It’s over now. Jeez, get a fucking grip. He rocked back and forth, trying to calm himself and ride out the last remaining effects of the attack.

Something had to give. This was getting ridiculous.

#ledger joker #jack napier #heath ledger #the dark knight #nolanverse #cross posted on ao3 #my writing

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alexbkrieger13 · 2 years ago

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Needed to entertain myself so decided to summarise the Svt Eurovision commentator for semi 1. Sorry in advance for the long post!

"My name is Edward af Sillén and I'm belonging to the dying species Eurovision experts.

It'll be a candy with flavours we couldn't dreamt about. Punk rock bands, 60 year old men in high heels, white Y-fronts, a fruity dictator and Putin's missiles as phallus symbols. And all of this are just in Croatia's entry!

And what a week for Great Britain! A few days ago they crowned a king and isn't it we hope to crown a queen before week's end? That queen is named Loreen Talhaoui

I can tell that the first song of the evening is the 1 541th to ever have competed in Eurovision. Good info to have if you have a SAT in front of you.

Like a spinning pass from Mordor. Alessandra, strong on the stage. From Norway to Malta, a country that in Eurovision often sings about angels, or peace, or about angels who want peace. But this year they're singing about us and about how socially awkward we've become after the life in quarantine and that we rather stay at home than go out to clubs. On the other hand, that's how I've felt since 2011.

Lovely The Busker! Guys who love to dance but evidentially CAN'T dance. Nice and relatable for most of us guys.

He calls himself Black because he as a teenager declared Serbia's music industry as dead, and wore black for 40 days in personal mourning. But besides that he seems to be a very positive guy, real fun at parties. Jokes aside, he does seem to be a very great guy.

I'm so happy I didn't have to stand behind and do hip hop-moves.

Marisa Mema performs under the name of Mimicat. Unclear why. Now you're many wondering if Mimicat indeed has a cat and I can tell you that yes, she has. The cat's name is Brownie. Mimicat's entry is about when the heart beats so hard that the body aches and you get dry in your mouth and dizzy. That's how it feels when you're in love. Could also be heart failure.

Ireland is Eurovision's own Bengt Dahlqvist. Usually they have another lead singer but he wasn't considered good looking enough for Eurovision. So instead one of the band's guys had to step up. And he does that in a gold coloured bodysuit just to better safe than sorry. Lock your daughters in! Here's Wild Youth from Ireland.

Grab onto something now... Croatia sends a bunch of 60 year olds so hard that Ireland's wild youth look like Mini-cottage cheese. It might look like it's the Grotesco-gang who've masqueraded and are pulling our legs but the fact is that this is a rather fantastic group with a long history of political activism through music. A bit like Croatia's equivalent to Nationalteatern. If they win on Saturday they've promised to sing the winner's reprisal completely nude. I'm not trying to influence your votes, I'm just thinking this is info you deserve to have before voting.

Yes! Y-fronts and pumps and a subtle melody. Croatia starts off hard. That gang's debut album was btw named Two Dogs Fucking and is as you understand a perfect record to put on in the background when you and wifey have an romantic evening with the food simmering on the stove.

Musical protests against the war can look in different ways, which becomes extra palpable now when Switzerland enters the stage after Croatia. He had his breakthrough at 18 years old when he won the Swiss The Voice. He's also competed in the German show I can see your voice, which should be impossible.

She's a fabulous singer, a brilliant lyrics writer, a dynamic dancer and a magical actress. All this according to her own website. Tonight's entry she has contributed with writing herself - Unicorn. And it was only a matter of time before a Eurovision song would be called that.

And him you've seen before. 2012 he competed in Baku and was defeated by Loreen. He can't only have been happy when he decided to return and got to hear Loreen would do the same. We're treated to sort of medieval performance extra-everything with women with horns, men who beat on drums and a man with a flute dressed as someone from Asterix. Did I say you're watching Eurovision?

Their music is Beatles inspired in bits. Very fitting now when we're in Liverpool.

Twins we've seen before in Eurovision. 1980 for example it was Sophie and Magaly for Luxembourg. 2014 it was Tolmachevy Sisters for Russia. 1994 it was Roger Pontare and Marie Bergman for Sweden. Well, perhaps Roger and Marie weren't biological twins but when they sang it felt like they came from the same egg.

During the song you'll hear the word corona several times. But that means crown and not corona. So if you've caught corona in Czechia congratulations are in order.

Dion was supposed to perform the song solo, but they felt it was too much like Arcade so they re-made the song into a duet. And that's why Mia walks beside him on the podium. And how fittingly perfect isn't that since Liverpool know better than anybody else that you never walk alone.

Finland. Yup, the neighborliness is but a memory. What Finland send is really effective. You're about to experience Finnish industry-techno, hardcore rap blended with cha cha in a song that ends in eurodisco and a synchronised conga line. All this performed by the irresistible Käärijä who 29 years old had a break through in the Finnish national selection and crushed all opposition. Before this he was as good as unknown in the home country. A bleeding colon inflammation that nearly took his life was an eye-opener, and he decided to go for the music seriously. So it's an inflamed large intestine which have given Finland their biggest shot at winning in a very long time.

In many ways Loreen's complete opposite, but a real challenger on Saturday."

Oh my god I love this thanks so much for this gem

#eurovision

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atsukashii · 3 years ago

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hii! for your even can i ask for a madeleine x shoto todoroki + she/her + ☀️ + baby blue. thanks!

(btw who’s your bias?)

take my hands now you are the cause of my euphoria

✘ there is nothing good about being sick... unless you're being doted on by your pro hero boyfriend... then okay, there may be a few good things.

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: aged up characters,

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.3k

There are two things on this planet that you positively despise.

The first; spiders because obviously. And the second?

Getting sick.

It was so impractically frustrating. What made it more annoying was the knowledge that you were almost one hundred percent sure that it was a result of stress. As if your body wasn’t strong enough to handle a major presentation at college, trying to be a good girlfriend, and your deadbeat partner who has left you to do the entire assignment yourself. You’d pulled an all-nighter beforehand, completed the presentation, not held back on giving your partner a big fat zero in the group evaluation at the end for her complete disregard to do literally anything, then caught the bus back to your small apartment, sniffling the whole way home.

And twenty four hours later, here you are. Stuck on the couch after you’d crawled out of bed to get some water, with your sheets trailing you like a pathetic cape. You’d made it to the kitchen, but felt dizzy on your way out, where you took solace on the couch- and made a spot where you’ve stayed for hours.

Sick. God you hated it. You’ve never felt more useless of a human than you do surrounded by toilet paper - because you ran out of tissues - and a pathetic excuse for a snack in the form of a half eaten apple.

But what is the absolute worst part of being sick? Having to ask for help. It wasn’t a strength of yours, especially when it came to asking your boyfriend of just under a year for help. At first, you didn’t want to let him know, but now that you’ve had to cancel the dinner plans that he’d taken the evening off work for, you’re feeling the guilt.

Squinting at the bright light emitting from your phone in your hand, you try to think of a less pathetic response to your boyfriend's message.

[6:55pm] FROM: Shoto Is something wrong? Do you need me to come over?

Is something wrong? Yes you were feeling what the beginnings of death may resemble. Do you need him to come over? Probably, but you can admit that it's more wanting him to come, rather than needing him to.

You’ve been trying to decide what to respond with for the past twenty minutes, and you’re sure that your boyfriend - although normally not one to stress - is probably genuinely concerned by now, so you need to offer something. Your fingers sluggishly move across the screen to try and get a somewhat eloquent response, but you grow distracted with the sound of a key being pushed into the lock of your door. For the moment, you slowly raise your gaze from your phone, peering into the dim hall you can see clearly from your couch, and taking in the figure that steps into the open doorway.

Dressed in long pants, a warm jacket that is a personal favourite of yours and a scarf that you had gifted him for his birthday months ago, Shoto stands in the entrance to your apartment. You know that you resemble the feral cats that dumpster dive around your area, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you try to fathom just how Shoto got to your place. Maybe your indecisiveness of your response had somehow manifested him here.

Your eyes drift from his handsome face down to the bags in his hands. Food? Your stomach rumbles loudly for the first time today as if it was an efficient greeting for him. But really, wrapped up in your blankets like they’re your cocoon, your muscles groan in protest at the thought of getting up. So you just blink at him.

“Madeleine?” His soft voice doesn’t pound your eardrums the same way strangers had your whole trip home yesterday, and you outwardly sigh in relief. Taking that as a symbol of consent to come in, Shoto carefully closes the door behind him, and slips off his shoes before continuing further into your apartment.

“It took you a while to respond, so I thought I would come and see if you’re alright. But I ran into one of your college friends I met from that party on my way here and she told me you were sick.” Shoto explains, raising the plastic bag in his hand in explanation. “So I thought I would grab a couple of things first.” You watch in complete awe as he begins unloading the contents of the paper bags.

Tissues, cough lollies, a new heat pack, fresh tea leaves.

Your eyes glance between the items and his heterochromia eyes, before settling on the serious look on his face. He’s still talking to you, but at this point you can’t make out what he’s saying - just simply incredibly glad that he’s here. His hair is still slightly damp, suggesting that he rushed over when you didn’t reply, even though he is dressed immaculately. Maybe once upon a time, it would have made you feel embarrassed to be seen in your state, but now you didn’t care.

“Is that my hoodie?” Shoto’s words pull your wandering thoughts back to the present, and you instinctively look down at the blue blue hooded sweater that- yeah, that was his. Pinching the material between your fingers, you look back up at your boyfriend and smile for the first time today.

“Hi,” Shoto’s concern melts away into something soft and gentle that is often reserved for you. Tilting his head as he glances at you, Shoto steps forwards into your space, and squats down to your height.

“Hi.” He parrots, placing his hand on your forehead. You practically moan at the new cool temperature change, which only makes him smile more.

“You’re sick.”

“Yeah.” You grumble, blinking sleepily at him, and trying not to lean further into his touch.

“I’m sorry for cancelling our dinner.” Shoto looks at you as if you're actually clinically insane for your words.

“You’re sick love, you don’t need to apologise. Ever. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He hesitates, his eyes keep drifting back to the jumper on your torso. “When did you manage to steal this one?”

“A few weeks ago. You leant it to me by the way, on our way home from seeing your sister. I didn’t steal it.” Your attempt at an excuse goes through one ear and out the other, because Shoto’s not listening to you. The soft smile on his face stretches bigger and bigger at your response.

“I don’t care love, steal all of my clothes if you want.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before standing up to his full height.

“Don’t tempt me Sho,” you call after him as he grabs the other paper bag and walks into your kitchen. The sound of a pot being placed on your stove and the ticking of the lighting flame fills the apartment before you suddenly see his red and white hair poke back around the doorway.

“I brought over some fresh chicken soup. Think you can eat it?” Eagerly, you nod your head. Your boyfriend was almost as good of a cook as he was a pro hero.

“I also love you in my clothes.” He adds suddenly, and if your cheeks weren’t already flushed from illness, you know you would be sprouting a red face by this point.

“I love you and your clothes,” The compliment being interrupted as you grabbed a tissue and sneezed loudly enough for it to echo throughout your quiet apartment. Shoto just smiles a full blown grin at you, pure mirth glowing in his eyes.

“I love you too, love.” He replies before slipping back into the kitchen. “Give me a while to warm it up. Try and take a nap, I'll wake you up when it's done.” He calls out from inside the kitchen, and you smile to yourself, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the couch.

Maybe being sick wasn’t as bad as you’d previously thought if you got to be doted on by your boyfriend.

✘ A/N: my bias is 100% kuroo rn because that man is too fine, but also am crying in the club because no one requested iwa or tsumu :’(

#special event 🧚‍♀️✨#lols writes #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki x reader #mha todoroki #todoroki x you #todoroki shōto #bnha shoto todoroki #shouto x you #shoto x you #shoto x y/n

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dragon-fics · 3 years ago

Text

DOS: (The Dragon Prince UA*) Raining Love (Female Dragon-Shifter X Female Moonshadow elf/Reader)

Chapter summary: You're a Moonshadow elf who was out training during the rainiest autumn Xadia has ever had. After suffering a nasty slip, you meet your savior.

~Requested~

*UA = Universe Alteration

I'm back my dragonlings! I have a writing-filled summer ahead! Here's the first request to start us off!

Happy Pride y'all🏳️‍🌈!

Btw if you're interested, I have a TDP fanfic with the same UA as this. And I absolutely didn't give my OC a mention in this (I saw an opportunity and I took it! lmao). It's called His Apprentice and I'll be finishing it soon and starting its sequel; please check it out! <3

(I've been playing and reading too much Dragon Age and so the slang "knife-ears" had to make an entrance in here :3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

T/O/W = Type of Weapon (bowblade, sword, daggers etc.)

The mossy tree branches squelched beneath my navy boots as I ricocheted from giant tree to giant tree, wielding my (T/O/W). I sliced it through thin air, imagining humans facing my wrath as I hopped from one wet tree to another.

Gripping the damp bark of the nearest tree, I slid to a halt, standing on a broad branch. I placed my weapon(s) away and looked up at the sky. Beyond the dark green canopy, I could see dark rain clouds looming closer to me and the Silvergrove, ready to spill thousands and thousand of raindrops down onto us—again.

That was all this week had been; rain, rain and what’s this? More rain.

I sighed irritably and turned around, back towards the hidden Moonshadow elf village. I leaped my way quickly to the village, bounding through the trees with ease; until the rain poured.

My boots, the moss and the bark got wetter and slippier, causing me to lose balance a few times, but I quickly made up for it. Until I reached a huge star plum tree—the tree with the smoothest bark in all of Xadia.

To avoid a fall, I grabbed a branch on the plum tree and swung onto another tree. As I landed, my boots slid and my feet went from under me.

The impact when my back hit the branch winded me, and before I could bury a dagger from my belt into the tree, I slipped off the branch, plummeting to the ground. I screamed, my limbs flailing. I had no way to avoid falling to my death, no way to survive.

Several branches smacked me in the face, scratching my skin. One branch even had the audacity to hit my forehead... and then it went black.

*-*-*-*

The first thing I heard when I came to was the pitter-pattering of rain against wood and metal. The sound almost tempted me to keep my eyes closed and drift off again. But then a dull throbbing arose, and my head ached. I peeled open my eyes as it all came back to me; my training routine, the slick moss, the pouring rain, the fall…

The fall!

I bolted upright in what appeared to be a bed. An unfamiliar bed at that, covered in a patched quilt. The small house was lit with small flaming torches every metre or so. The quiet crackling of logs burning came from the opposite corner of the room, along with the bubbling sound of something boiling on a stove. My eyes slowly adjusted, realising that someone was at the stove.

“Relax, Knife-ears,” came a disinterested voice from where the bubbling was coming from. She continued stirring what was in the pot. “You’re alright; a mild concussion. But the storm’s getting worse so don’t even think about running off.”

She was a little taller than I was, with large white scaly wings and a narrow trail behind her. She was built strong and slim. Her scales shimmered against the torch lighting. A long white braid fell down her back, almost touching her tail where it joined her back, and two sets of narrow, smooth, elegantly curved horns protruded through her skull. A mix of teals and greens clung to her body as a tight, figure hugging set of leggings and wrapped top. Pale skin peeked through where the clothing didn’t meet around her lower back. She was a dragon-shifter for sure—like that strange dragon-shifter halfling that used to live in the Silvergrove with Rayla and her guardians. What was her name? Daisy? Violet? No, it was...

Heather! That was the halfling. Such a strange little being. Looking back now, I kind of felt bad for the way I ignored her; I was such an idiot, but fitting in was so important as kids. That was why no one was friends with her and no one would dare lose out on popularity by being friends with her.

I shook myself out of my thoughts; now wasn’t time for the guilty reflections I had in the middle of the night, now was the time to get to know this sparkly dragon-shifter. I opened my mouth to speak before realising I had no idea how to start.

“Um, hi?” I started. “I’m—”

“I don’t care who you are, Knife-ears,” she said, not looking up from her meal. She sighed and continued stirring.

I huffed. “I’m (Y/N),” I pushed on. Who are you?”

“The magic fairy who lives in this magical forest,” she sighed.

I grumbled. “So why did you rescue me, o magical fairy?”

She sighed again. I really wanted to slam my palm up her nose. “Don’t call me that. If you must call me anything, I am Zaithi. Zay for short.” She paused as she lifted her pot off the stove, stirred it one more time, and poured some into a small bowl. “And I didn’t rescue you. You got caught in one of the branches above my home. An elf lying unconscious above my home is sure to scare off well-paying customers.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not��nothing in this room looked like something people would come in to purchase something.

“So,” she continued, “I brought you inside and treated your head injury. You’re welcome.”

At this rate, I wasn’t too sure if everything she said was a joke. “Um, thanks, by the way.”

Zay hummed dismissively and came over with the small bowl of whatever she’d been cooking. Seeing her face made my heart pause beating for a second. She was exquisite with a slender face—not as slender as an elf’s—and round, icy blue cat-like eyes. I also noticed that at the front her top spiked upward, baring her toned stomach at me. “Here, this will fight off any cold you’ll pick up.”

I took the small wooden bowl from her in both hands. “What is it?” I asked, curiously. I smelled delicious. I took a sip. The liquid was thick and clear, with a few floating chunks in it that were soft and barely needed to be chewed.

“Phoenix-guts-and-toad-brain soup,” she said with a grin.

I spat out the soup, surprised and disgusted.

Zay laughed wildly, wiping away a tear from her eye. “Oh, Knife-ears, you’re too gullible.” She snorted. “I’m joking; it’s elfroot-and-bogey-berries soup with some homegrown veggies.”

I looked from her to the soup. “From now on I’m going to presume everything you say is a joke,” I said, taking a sip of the soup.

She chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first.” She pulled out a chair from the square table between the stove and the fireplace and sat backwards in it, facing me.

“So, why did you actually help me?” I asked, pulling the quilt back up around me, wrapping it around my shoulders.

Zay shrugged. “Guess I had the skills to prevent you from getting ill so I figured I might as well use them.”

I cocked a brow at her, pushing her for more.

She sighed—again. “My parents insisted I be a healer—like my mother was so she could help in the war before I was born. Though really, I want to be a soldier—like my father, though he didn’t have much of a choice in being one.” She looked aside to where my (W/O/C) lay on the floor with my belt of knives.

I glanced at them as well, and she rested her head on her crossed arms. I felt sorry for her, forced to be something she’s not. “I could teach you,” I blurted.

Zay lifted her head ever so slightly, as if she wouldn’t dare get her hopes up too high. She nodded a little. “Sure, if you want.”

*-*-*-*

“No warrior stops because of a little rain!” I scowled as Zay headed for the door. Dark spots of sweat coloured her top and the back of her leggings after our hours of training.

She sighed, gripping her wooden sword. “I am not getting caught in a thunderstorm, (Y/N)!” she shouted, determined to stay as dry as possible. “Go home before you get struck by lightning, Knife-ears.”

I crossed my arms grumpily and grabbed my bag. I was tempted to go home and stay dry, but... staying dry with Zay…

My heart skipped, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought. “Wait!” I called as she closed the door. I bolted towards it and she opened it just in time. I crashed into her, my face on her chest. She closed the door behind me, smirking.

“What a delightful picture I’m looking at,” she quipped—I think. She wrapped her muscular arm around me and I stayed still, heat rising to my cheeks and my heart racing faster—I really liked this.

I gave her an awkward smile. I had been so honest with her these past few weeks; she knew I wasn’t interested in male elves. And I was sure she knew what I was feeling.

“Everything alright, Knife-ears?”

I hesitated, slowing my heart and softening my expression. “Yeah, just glad to be dry.”

“For now,” she smirked, taking my lips.

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ethelphantom · 5 years ago

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Things a Pet Name Can Reveal

Scroll down to the end for the art btw, don’t miss it! Also, you’re getting pure fluffy humour again, you should consider yourselves lucky. Maribat March day 13, Pet Names. Also, this is your friendly reminder that yes, I can tag you to stuff if you ask me to do it. This month or all my Maribat content or a specific series... You decide.

Ao3

This is Maribat -- don’t like; don’t read

_________________________

So, maybe, looking back on it, Tim regretted wanting to come over to see how Marinette was doing. He really hadn’t wanted to see and know what he did now and while it wasn’t honestly that bad, he kind of wished he’d found out some other way. Such as, maybe someone actually telling him with words.

The only good thing about any of it was that he had knowledge about Marinette none of the others except for maybe Alfred and Cass had. Scratch that, the two of them definitely knew, but the rest.

Marinette had gotten commissioned by many big names in the movie industry, as well as by a lot of the Wayne Industries’ partners, and yeah, she was definitely drowning in them. Of course, she had wanted to take them all as they paid well, they were good publicity to her, and they were okay with waiting as they knew she had a ton of people wanting to commission her at the same time. Tim would have felt bad for talking so much about his favourite designer to them because he was proud of her and how far she’d come, but Marinette had said it was okay and that she greatly appreciated it.

That was why he decided he wanted to come over to see how she was doing, maybe help her if she needed take-out (because yeah, he couldn’t cook to save his life), coffee (because at least he knew how to brew actually good and strong coffee), or really, anything. She would only need to ask and say the word, and he would do whatever she asked.

As he got to the door, the one that had opened it had been Jason. Which, okay, he could understand, they were close and Jason was the reason the rest of them knew her in the first place, but it still surprised Tim. Jason hadn’t even blinked an eye and let him in. And told him were Marinette was. And was that dark turtleneck Marinette's design he was wearing?

Marinette was, as Jason had said, sitting at the kitchen table (okay, to be precise, she was sitting on top of it), biting her pencil as she had a sketchbook in her hands. Some of her hair fell on her face and shoulders though most of it had been pulled up in space buns to stay away from her eyes. She didn’t even notice Tim had come in.

There was a huge pot on the stove, and the smell hanging in the air was wonderful. It was possible Marinette was cooking — that would explain why she was in the kitchen instead of her study — but somehow Tim found that unlikely. Marinette wasn’t focusing on any clock, didn’t check the food even once, and looked a whole lot like she’d stayed in one place for the past hour or two. There were chopping boards and knives behind her, as well as a whole lot of still untouched vegetables.

Yeah, so it wasn’t her cooking. Then who…?

The answer came in the form of a six-foot man with a white streak in his hair and a scar splitting his lips. “You gonna eat, Timbo?” Jason asked, crossing the kitchen easily with large strides before getting to the food he started stirring. “We’ve got quinoa.” And, as an afterthought, he added, “And avocado, tomato, corn, tuna, carrot and a ton of spices.”

Only then did Marinette realise there was someone else in the room as well. She lifted her head, looked at Jason, and then turned to Tim. The smile that had appeared on her face when she saw Jason widened and she abandoned the sketchbook and the pencil on the table in favour of getting down to give Tim a hug. “Hi Tim, it’s wonderful to see you. Sorry I haven’t texted you or anything, I’ve just been so—”

“Busy, I know. It’s alright, I didn’t really expect anything less from you,” he replied laughing. “You’re you, and you’re like me, and neither of us really knows how to stop working. That’s why I came over as soon as I had finished the biggest projects going on at the WE. I wanted to see you and thought that I could maybe help, even if it’s only in the form of providing you with strong coffee or snacks or something.”

Marinette snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. The ring in her hand glimmered in the light and her eyes crinkled. It was only then that Tim noticed the dark circles around her eyes that were so easy to see now that he paid attention. When was the last time she’d slept?

Not that he really had any say in it, he didn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than four hours at once. The last week had gone cat napping so much Selina would be proud of him. Dick would be horrified and disappointed. Well, who cared about that, that man didn’t know how to eat anything but takeout and cereal, so he had no right to judge the rest of them. Absolutely no right.

...Honestly, Steph, Cass or Jason were probably the most stable of them at this point. Maybe Duke. It was, the least to say, disturbing.

“Well, I appreciate that. You still remember how to make that death coffee you made for me like, a year ago when I was drowning in schoolwork?”

“The one that would probably kill any normal person with the amount of caffeine it contains but that both of us crave for because of the sweet, sweet caffeine?”

“Yes, that one.”

“Definitely. Where’s your coffee and coffee grinder?”

Marinette pointed him to the direction — to the left, the topmost shelf, hidden where neither of them could actually reach. When Tim asked why, Marinette’s sharp response of “Guess once,” and pointed look at Jason had told him everything.

Which meant, he needed to either get Jason to give the things to him or climb.

His dignity wouldn’t let him ask for help with this (after all, it wasn’t a life or death situation, or even an actual mission or job they had, simply his own personal need to be able to do something without anyone’s help on the line), so he climbed.

Eventually, he managed to reach the things and set them on the kitchen counter, careful as to not damage either of them.

After that, the coffee was soon finished, and he set a cup of scalding hot coffee in front of Marinette, who inhaled the strong smell of coffee into her lungs and sighed with satisfaction. He was rather sure someone else had sighed as well, and when he turned around to look at Jason, his suspicions were confirmed. He shook his head and looked at Tim like he’d ruined something personal.

“I was tryna to keep her from coffee. Just like you should be kept away from it, Baby Bird. Neither of you needs it, especially not the amounts I know both of you are drinkin’. God.”

“Yeah, we do need it,” Marinette and Tim chorused, followed by, “It’s the liquid of the gods”, “You can’t stop us”, and “stay away from our fountain of fortune.”

Jason just pinched the bridge of his nose but refrained from saying anything more even though it was clear he wanted to. That was alright with Tim — he didn’t, contrary to popular belief, have a need to fight Jason over every single little thing. No, the one he had the need to do that was Damian, even if he got along with the little brat significantly better these days.

When it seemed Marinette didn’t need him to do anything anymore and just wanted to concentrate on her designs again, Tim took out his laptop and set to work alongside her, just on the chair instead of the table. After all, just because he didn’t have that much work to do didn’t mean he didn’t have any or a lot of work to do.

Later, he was alerted back to the real world from his work by Jason who informed him food was done. A quick glance at the clock told him it had been forty-six minutes since the last time he checked it, so a little bit after he started working.

Reluctantly, he put his laptop away and accepted the plate full of the quinoa thing — whatever Jason had done — that was set in front of him. Marinette didn’t even move.

“Sweet Cheeks, you’ve got to stop working on that design before you burn yourself out. At least eat something.”

Tim’s gaze literally snapped at Jason. Sweet Cheeks? What was even going on?

Marinette groaned and let her face fall into her hands, but she missed and hit the table instead. That must have hurt. Then she gave Jason the finger, somehow perfectly aware where in the room he was located. “See, you started off saying that as a joke to annoy me and now I think you got so used to it that you're saying it unironically, and it's getting to be a problem.”

Jason just raised his eyebrow. “Does it still annoy you, Sweet Cheeks?”

“Yes!”

“Then I fail to see the problem here.”

“You are an asshole, Jason. Asshole.”

“No shit. We’ve been married for, what, half a year and you’re only noticing now?”

Tim’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He could not believe his ears. The fork in his hands falling to the floor, he finally got his brain to cooperate and asked, slowly, as to make sure he didn’t say something wrong and would actually be able to understand what was going on, “You’re what now?”

“We’re married, I just said so. You seriously didn’t know? I thought that out of all of the people B’s trained in his life, you would have been able to figure it out on your own.”

“And you — neither of you — thought to invite us to the wedding?”

“Nah. It kinda happened in the spur of the moment and well. I mean we did have a suit for me and a dress for her so maybe it wasn't that impulsively done but yeah. Forgot to tell you after that and then we started betting on who would notice and when.”

“Of course you did. I shouldn’t probably be surprised even, now should I?”

“No, no you shouldn’t.”

Marinette, that little shit, just laughed. Tim sighed.

“Well, congratulations, you two. I hate you both.”

“We love you too, Tim.”

The rest of the visit was spent discussing the hows, whens and whys of their relationship and marriage. It was cute, he supposed. He was most definitely sure that he was happy the two of them were happy together, though. They clearly deserved one another.

Also, it would be fun to see the rest of the family’s reactions because they told him that if they didn’t figure it out by the end of the month, the two of them would come over and tell them, in some way or another. Tim kind of hoped the family would not figure it out.

A week later, Marinette received a package that contained a card and a framed picture of herself and Jason, taken by Tim on the day he had visited. Under the picture, there was a quote from one of the few plays Tim knew for certain Jason favoured. What the card said was lost in the wonder that was the gift Tim had sent them.

“Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.”

_________________

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip

#jasonette #jason x marinette #ml x dc #dc x mlb #maribatmarch2020 #maribat #miraculous ladybug #DC #Jason Todd #marinette dupain cheng #Tim Drake #fanfiction #fanfic #Fanart #art #digital art #ethel's art #ethel's writing

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adragonhoardingstories · 5 years ago

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Of Blood and Bonds - Chapter 5

"Father you know I respect you." Damian said and everyone at the dining table stilled as they were about to get up and leave. "But I must admit, as my brothers would say, you've majorly fucked up."

Bruce sighed. He had thought about that - had Alfred scold him for having benched Damian - for doing as Damian had said and taking out his anger about his own failures on his other children. But that didn't make this any easier.

"Damian I know you're mad I didn't tell you about your sister-"

"Oh this is not about that. Well not entirely. They are connected but this is not about Marinette alone." When no one spoke, he took it as his cue to continue.

"You saw in her files that there were some vague details about her being possessed by an akuma. Did you figure out what they are? Because I have an its not pretty. Actually, it's bad enough to warrant an intervention of the Justice League as a whole but my sister tells me that they were told not to waste the JL's time."

His youngest's face was worryingly blank. It reminded him of all the times he was set upon something and right now it seemed that his new focus was his older sister. Bruce supposed, he should be thankful that Damian's attention towards her was not of the murderous kind.

"What do you mean?" He made sure to keep his voice free from emotions.

"From what she told me, they asked for help several times until someone from the JL dismissed their problems as a prank, a joke without any investigation or anything about their claims."

Someone was going to be hearing from Batman soon.

"And what about the akumas?"

"It's enough to need more than one member of the JL. I've see a video of one of the attacks, it's...horrifying and according to Marinette it was one of the tamer ones."

"Do you have them?" His sons all looked annoyed and he knew they were probably thinking that he was letting superhero work take precedence over his family again. But that was how he worked. He didn't know what to do about the situation with Marinette but this - this could find a solution to.

"There are videos of them online."

Damian seemed to take that as his cue to get up and walk away.

"I'll play the videos in the cave."

Marinette hadn't necessarily had the best time in the last years but one thing he had definitely learned was who were her real friends and who weren't.

It was before the worst month of her life but things had already started taking a turn for the worse for her at that point.

Her so called friends all started to believe Lila over her, started to - as she now knew - emotionally blackmail her, only gave her the time of the day whenever she did something for them or to scold her for whatever she apparently did for poor Lila.

She was oh so tired and every second she wasted made her feel more guilty.

Hawkmoth had come back more enraged than ever after the Miracle Queen incident and she had done the mistake of lending the more Miraculous out.

She had given Kagami and Luka both different Miraculous for them to fight alongside her because they both have strong spirits and a good resonance with several kwamis but... let's just say that she would never forgive herself for what they had to experience because of her.

In desperation, she tried to find other holders that she hadn't used before who resonated but that...that had been a huge mistake. She almost lost more than one Miraculous that day.

She was their Guardian. And that day she vowed that she would die first before letting something happen to the Kwamis.

She was fighting alone now. Chat Noir...Chat Noir was even more pushy about revealing themselves after the the chaos that had occured. He hindered more than he helped, never showing up on time.

Things had come to head one day as she walked into class. The whole incident had involved a bunch of sheep and a ripped sketchbook - hers to be precise.

It proved to actually be a relief to let go if them. She had never realized how much their 'friendship' had been dragging her down.

I got permission to use this fic as a reference for her backstory so check it out. Thanks for that btw.

That experience proved to be helpful later when she felt like there was no one she could trust.

Apprenticeship with Master Fu had since long taught her that it was better to feel than to see. She had learnt to recognise auras rather than faces and in the end that might have been her saving grace - or well at least the start of her path back to sanity.

She had learnt to see and remember the auras of her friends rather than anything else because afterall the soul didn't lie.

After everything, well her reliance on auras had only increased.

Meeting her brothers had been amazing and even more so now that it seemed that they wanted to have a relationship with her.

But one things that bothered her were their auras.

It wasn't that they were bad - it was that they were scarred, hardened and she could basically see that they had suffered in the past.

The worst of them were probably Jason and Damian. Their auras made it very clear that they had been dipped in the Lazarus pits.

Jason...Jason's soul had been corrupted at such a point that she doubted that the pits had been used for anything less than bringing him back from the dead.

And Damian - Damian's soul seemed to have some of the pits as a foundation. She gathered that he had been dunked into the pools more than once when he was a child. There was something else in his aura too that showed that he had died not long ago too.

There was also another aura that seemed to have to have linked with both of them which made her sure of their last fates and Marinette shuddered to think what had happened to them.

She had to remind herself that the past was in the past and while she couldn't change that, she could at least help them have a better future.

So, one could say, that she was nervous for this upcoming dinner.

The dinner didn't go as expected - at all.

Firstly, they were late. All of her brothers and sister were late, very very late. Marinette was not impressed, especially give that Damian wasn't answering his phone.

But this was Gotham, the few kwamis she had brought with her reasoned, there was probably a problem and wasn't it better that were safe inside than stuck outside and hurt?

Just as she was about to say screw it and transform using the fox Miraculous to see if she could help the bats, she felt the magic around the house shift.

Marinette focused in the disturbance and closed her eyes reaching out for their auras. She soon snapped her eyes open and let a smile come on her face - she knew those auras. But why were they entering from the window?

Marinette shrugged it off and signalled the kwamis to hide while she went to greet them.

She was not ready for the sight that she came upon. Her siblings were all in a state of disarray and it looked like they were trying to be silent.

They were of course failing miserably given what seemed to be a bullet wound in Jason and a stab would in Dick and the rest of them all seemed to have been beat up to at least some degree.

"What the fuck?" Marinette felt like the situation called for her language to be excused.

They all froze in place before slowly turning to look at her.

"Uh hey." Dick or should she say Nightwing because apparently she wasn't stressed enough gave her a short wave.

She cursed and buried her face in her hands. "Of course I can't have normal siblings."

"Siblings?" Black Bat seemed suprised. She couldn't recognize her aura, Marinette decided that she must have been Cassandra.

"You must be confused ma'am." Red Robin jumped in and Marinette rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid Timothy." And then just to prove her point she point at each one of them in turn. "Jason, Dick, Damian and who I'm guessing is Cassandra."

"What makes you say that?" Tim seemed to be ever the player of words.

She sighed, knowing they wouldn't budge until she proved that she truely believed her words.

"Well, why else would you be here?"

"Uh because it was the nearest place we found to nurse our wounds and last time we checked this place was abandoned?"

"Let's say that's true. Wouldn't it make more sense for you to go a place where you could actually have access to supplies to treat your wounds? Not to mention the fact that that-" she pointed at the hole in Jason's shoulder. "-is a bullet wound and I heard no gunshot. And lastly, what a coincidence it is that Black Bat who is known to work in Hong Kong comes back to Gotham at the same time as my sister Cassandra who from what I've heard also is currently living in Hong Kong too."

No one replied.

"So do you want to continue arguing or are you idiots going to let me help you before you bleed all over my floor."

Unsurprisingly it was Damian who moved the first - it made sense, he was the one who had spent most time with her and at least had a modicum of trust in her.

He removed his mask and met her eyes. "Do you have a first-aid kit?"

She nodded. "Get in the bathroom and get those two in the tub." She nodded towards Dick and Jason. I'll bring it to you."

Marinette hurried to her bed room to find her probably over-packed first aid kit. She had brought it for herself so that in case of a bad akuma attack she could take care of her wounds - after all her cure took care of everyone else before her, she had enough scars to prove that not that she could distinguish them from those the cat had given her.

She was glad to see that they had followed her instructions. Jason and Dick were seated in her honestly huge tub and they along with the rest had made themselves comfortable, having discarded their armor.

She placed the first-aid kit down and kneeled next to Dick. She felt that the stove would in the stomach took more precedence.

Jason reached out for the kit but Marinette batted his hand away.

"You're injured, sit down quietly." She snapped and to everyone's surprise, he did as he was told.

Marinette started treating their wounds, thanking the kwamis that she had done a medical course as soon as she had realised that her wounds could not heal from the cure.

She had finally taken care of the more dangerous wounds and Marinette had enough of them squirming so she broke the silence "So, why in the world did you come here instead of going to your hyper-tech batcave with most certainly more medical facilities than my humble abode?"

She had to supress a smile as the boys looked among themselves. Finally it was Cassandra that replied.

"Did not want to miss dinner. You."

"Well you were already two hours late, you could just have sent me a text that you'd be a little more late."

"Didn't want to take chance."

Marinette smiled up at her. "Well I'm done, come on, I'll get you some clothes to change into."

"I don't think you'll have anything that will fit us."

"I'm a designer." She called over her shoulder. "I always have spares. Anyways, Cassandra-"

"Cass."

"Right, well Cass come with me, we're about the same size, you can take something of mine."

She led Cass to her bedroom and guided her to her wardrobe while she picked something for the boys.

She totally hadn't hoped to see her siblings during this trip and had this made something for them. Nope. Absolutely not.

She handed each of them their clothes. "Choose a room if you want, I have more than enough of them, then come down, I'm re-heating the food."

She smiled at Damian as he came down the stairs. "I tried my hand at some Arabic food. I hope you like it."

The boy looked awed. He walked to her and gave her a hug. "You're my new favourite sibling." Marinette laughed and pressed a kiss in his hair. "I love you too little brother."

She heard the disbelieving whisper of Demon Spawn? And looked up to see the rest.

She squeezed Damian's shoulder one last time before she pulled away, guiding him to sit down.

"Well dig in. You must be famished after your fight."

They did exactly that and soon were making their appreciation known.

"It's the first time I've attempted Arabic food, I don't know if I got the spices right.*

"It's delicious Pixie Pop. Don't worry.*

"Todd's right Mari. I haven't eaten anything this good since I came to Gotham."

"Really? Alfred didn't immediately dote on you and cook you all the food you wanted. "

He looked uncomfortable. "I was a difficult child back then."

"Was?" Jason snorted while Dick elbowed him.

Casssandra intervened. "You good at cleaning wounds. Hands stable."

"Yes well unfortunately it's not the first time I've had to do this."

"How come?"

"Did Damian tell you about the akuma attacks?" They nodded. "Well, Paris had since adapted to handle the akuma attacks. A lot of people have taken medical courses for extensive first aid to be able to help the unfortunate victims of an akuma."

"I thought that your superhero reversed all the damage."

"Well yeah. But Ladybug was insistent to make it clear that they couldn't bank everything on her. If she's taken down, everything's lost."

"This has been going for how many years. How do you still trust that hero?"

"And for how many years have the Joker been spreading his terror?" She asked drily and saw several of them recoil - Jason and Tim especially.

"Ladybug is doing all that she can only get so far with Chat Noir around."

"Chat Noir? I thought that he was her partner?"

"He's supposed to be but we'll these days he causes more trouble than he stops. People hope he doesn't show up because the battles are always over quicker when he's not there." She could see that they wanted to ask more but number one she didn't want to talk about Chat Noir and number two she felt like if she continued talking, she would slip up and say something she shouldn't know and the risk of them catching it was greater since they were themselves heroes.

"And anyways, Hawkmoth only comes out in a blue moon and that's only when he has a lot of faith in his plans."

"So there are a lot of these akuma attacks?"

"I guess it's kind of become a daily event by this point. People plan stuff taking it into consideration and if we're unlucky, there will be more than one in a day."

"So what type of akumas are there?"

"It depends really over what you've been akumatized. We've had a Pharaon, a Mime, Mr Pigeon and Mr Rat as well as Syren in the first year."

"Those seem like... interesting characters." Jason said.

"Wait until you hear this." Marinette snorted. "We had a Batman knock-off once, Owlman - he had his own electronic butler and everything."

The bats shared a look before they all bursted out laughing at once.

How could they not, imagining Bruce's face upon learning of this?

"You need to tell us this story."

Marinette was more than eager to comply.

It's too long so I'm gonna reblog the rest

#MLB X DC #torture #mentions of rape #lila salt #adrien salt #maribat #platonic daminette

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hybridequalist · 4 years ago

Text

Thinking Out Loud (Part 3)

So I forgot to cross-post this here. Whoops. Sorry for the long break. Part 4 will be out tomorrow.

Taglist: @nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger

---

You knew you were in trouble when you saw Lauren's smug face the next morning. If she didn't make the best breakfasts in the world, you'd have turned around and walked right out.

You managed to avoid looking at her directly long enough to sit at the table and pour yourself some juice, but Lauren picked up your glass and held it out if reach, still grinning.

“Hey there, who was that hunk you rode in with last night?” she signed with one hand.

“Shut up!” you signed back, feeling your face flush. “It's not like that!”

You swiped at your captive juice but Lauren was much taller than you and she smiled down at you.

“Spill,” she challenged, her fingers translating her sass with a flourish.

“It was not a date, we barely know each other and he was just dropping me off. Now juice!”

“Details girl. Details.”

“I didn't have dinner! Let me eat!”

That broke her teasing mood. Lauren finally relinquished the cup and ran to get the hot breakfast off the stove. You felt a slight twinge of guilt as she began to fill your plate more than usual, taking a noticeably smaller portion for herself.

To anyone else, Lauren’s behavior may have just seemed motherly but you knew better. Your psychic eavesdropping had caught more than one memory of Lauren as a disadvantaged teen, hungry and turned away from entry-level work because of her deafness. You knew all about her determination that no one renting from her would lose as much opportunity as she did worrying about when they were going to eat next. No one else could know that, however: your landlady was a well-dressed, modern woman who got her hair dyed some new radical color every other month. Without your power, you wouldn’t know the reason why she invited you to breakfast, that she planned to ensure you had at least one decent meal every single day.

But you feigned your usual innocence as you dug into the delicious food, trying to ignore Lauren’s racing mind as she conjured reasons for why you hadn’t eaten last night and did her best to combat them, holding off judgement until you were able to tell her the full story.

When you finished eating, you gave her the abridged version: that you had met Eddie at work and run into him again at the grocery store yesterday. Glossing over the details of the store being attacked, you chose to omit Venom entirely and instead told Lauren that in the panic you'd been knocked over and hit your head, that Eddie had looked out for you and been kind enough to bring you home when you woke up.

Lauren was a touch suspicious, sensing your editing but uncertain what you were holding back. Still, she shrugged and you recognized the return of her teasing mood and held back a premature weary sigh.

“You know, that Eddie guy sure is nice to look at,” she signed with a grin. “And he's a biker boy. You always did have...interesting taste.”

You flushed violently, hiding your face to block her words.

“Stop!” you signed, going redder as Lauren laughed at you. You heard her making mock kissy noises when your phone suddenly began to ring. You both jumped at the sound and panic instantly set into your chest. Lauren noticed you freeze and came over to your chair, fishing the device out from your pocket. Her eyes widened and you saw her smile.

The image in her brain showed Eddie's caller ID. The ID you'd tiredly assigned him before sending your own name over text.

Hot Mess Eddie

The ringing cut off and a text chimed out almost immediately in its place. Same contact.

You stiffly held your hand out for your phone and Lauren passed it over with a smirk before grabbing your empty plate as an excuse to give you some space.

Hey, sorry to call. I forgot.

Forgot? Forgot the one thing everybody seemed to mark as your defining trait.

Another text.

Reporter instinct. BTW, did you take my helmet last night?

Hemet? Oh, the one you'd been wearing. If your memory was correct…

It's on my coffee table, you replied. Do you need it?

Nah, but you’re gonna need it if you want me to pick you up later. You gonna be up for lunch?

Your pulse quickened and you almost dropped your phone in shock. Was he...asking you out?

I don’t have a shift tonight, so I can stay up. But why do you want to go out to lunch? I’m not exactly a conversationalist.

It took almost a minute before you saw the little ellipse that meant he was writing out a reply.

V wants me to tell you that he’s got a surprise. I still think it’s a bit early, but he’s giving me a headache for arguing. It’s pretty cool tho, gotta admit.

Surprise? What? Why?

You heard Lauren snicker and saw a flash of your own face in her thoughts. Apparently your face was red enough that she could see you blushing from the kitchen and you instinctively turned away, willing the blood to leave your cheeks.

Do you have a place in mind? You typed slowly.

----

You did you best to suppress jitters as you stood at the curb, motorcycle helmet tucked under your arm. You’d requested Lauren stay inside, but you knew she was watching from her window--both to satisfy her curiosity and ensure your safety.

You heard their thoughts before you saw them. Much like actual voices, it started quiet as they entered “hearing” distance but became steadily louder along with the revving of the motorcycle’s engine.

Suddenly, you felt self-conscious. You were dressed nicely, but the priority of your outfit was comfort, not fashion. Your hair was also fine, but you began to wonder if maybe you should have done something special with it. This was supposed to be a lunch meetup, but you didn't know what type of venue it would be. Your heart rate picked up and you felt your anxiety starting to raise its vicious head.

You pushed back, trying to force deep breaths, to keep your thoughts under control. Yet the tunnel vision started to set in despite your best efforts. Fragmented thoughts began to whirl like multiple tornadoes and a rising sense of panic began to choke you, cutting off all air. Tears stung your eyes behind closed lids when suddenly you felt two strong hands rest on your shoulders and heard your name, though it was muffled under your roaring pulse.

“Hey! I think you’re having a panic attack! Are you breathing? Can you try breathing?”

The realization that someone was in front of you pulled you out of the whirlpool slightly. It may not have brought the world back from crumbling, but suddenly you felt like there was an anchor keeping you from entirely plummeting into the black hole.Your hands reached out against your will and you found yourself clinging to this person’s chest, hands twisted into what felt like leather.There was no air in your lungs--not that you could feel--and your throat was stubbornly unresponsive to every sound you tried to make. So you reached out with your last resort.

You couldn’t keep the mental communion open for long--your focus was too scattered, your emotions too sweeping--but for a brief moment, you sent a burst of your emotions into the person crouched in front of you. All of your panic, your desire to be comforted, you desperate need to re-learn breathing, you sent it out in an unspoken plea for help.

For a moment, nothing happened. Your anxiety spiked in immediate response; You asked for too much; You would be cast away to fall into the abyss; You were going to die here.

Then you felt the fabric under your fingers ripple, like a living being woven of some strange material, flexing like a cat leaning into human touch. You felt your hands sink into it, giving you a better grip just as you felt thick arms wrap around you, pulling you into the stranger’s solid chest.

A voice rumbled through that chest. You couldn’t understand what they said, but found yourself zeroed in on the sound of their breathing, the feel of their pulse. Their arms tensed and relaxed in time with each breath and you found yourself trying to mimic the movement with limited effectiveness. The vibrations of your anchor’s voice rippled through your body, accompanied by some kind of lower pitch you couldn’t identify. It made you shiver and that motion made you realize that you were quaking so hard that there was no way you could have supported yourself.

Eventually, the panic began to subside into exhaustion; your violent shudders calmed into small fits of shaking and then entirely faded away. Your mind rose from the pit of despair and the sounds of the world and the thoughts of others returned.

The first thing you became aware of was who held you--that double-toned mental voice was entirely unmistakeable.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Eddie was saying.

“WE HAVE GOT YOU,” Venom corrected and you felt the jacket ripple--or rather, the symbiote disguised as a jacket.

“You just need to keep breathing. As long as you breathe, you can make it.”

You heard footsteps coming from behind you on the pavement and you twisted to see Lauren running from the front door of the complex. She reached you and Eddie and dropped to one knee, looking you over worriedly.

“You good?” she signed. You shakily nodded and tried to pull yourself to your feet. Your knees buckled before you really got anywhere and ended up halfway dangling, clinging to Eddie like a baby koala. He chuckled.

“You think it’s okay if I carry you inside?”

Could he even lift you?

“EDDIE, WE ARE STILL HEALING. DON’T MOVE TOO FAST.”

"I know our limits, Vee. But we gotta make sure she's safe."

You jumped when you felt new hands on your arm, but it was only Lauren trying to get your attention. She repeated Eddie's question in sign and you shakily gave an affirmative.

Eddie's arms were sturdy--no sign of the injury his other half had mentioned--as he carried your tired self back into the apartments. Lauren led him to her apartment and showed him to her bedroom, indicating she wanted me put in her bed. You protested in sign, but she conveniently didn't see your words.

It wasn't until you were laid on the bed that you realized how much your little attack had worn you out. The second your weight left Eddie's arms, your eyes slid shut and you yawned deeply.

"Go ahead and nap," Eddie encouraged. "I'll be out here...if your landlady is okay with it."

You tiredly gave a thumbs up and heard Venom's thoughts call out to you.

"WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE FROM ANYTHING. EVEN YOUR OWN BRAIN. SO DON'T HESITATE TO CALL OUT FOR US--IN ANY WAY YOU CAN."

You couldn't help but smile as you slipped off into sleep.

#venom #fanfic #fanfiction #hybridwrites #reader insert #2nd person #writing #my writing #update #venom movie

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razberryyum · 5 years ago

Photo

The Untamed and The Living Dead movie Thoughts

SPOILERS AHEAD!

If you haven’t watched the movie, it’s best not to proceed cuz you will be spoiled.

OR, if you have already watched the movie and love it completely, AND you stan Yu Bin and will not put up with any criticism about his performance, it’s also best not to proceed cuz you’ll most likely be annoyed/upset with me. Let’s just agree to disagree right now and move on with our separate happy lives.

Overall Rating for The Living Dead: 3 Lil Apples out of 10

Yeah, I know that’s pretty harsh…I waffled between 3, 4 and 5, but I had to settle on a 3 in the end because I don’t think I’ll ever rewatch this movie and there were just so many problems I had with it, that I realized I can’t say I liked the movie much at all.

Before I go on, let me first address the big white elephant in the room: no, WangXian does NOT cameo in The Living Dead nor are they even mentioned in any capacity that would assure us they are still together and happy in the movie’s timeline. At one point Wen Ning does mention them in the same sentence, but only in relationship to himself (that they saved him) and the past. For those of us desperate for confirmation of WangXian happily ever afterness in the world of CQL (“us” meaning me only most likely), we get no assurance whatsover. This is especially disappointing since the movie apparently take place years later after the events of The Untamed so it’s really sad that we have no idea if they are together. Of course in the world of the novel, we know they are absolutely together, happily married, everydaying everyday, but it would’ve been nice if we were given some tiny morsel of comfort for WangXian of The Untamed.

Not only does Lan Zhan not make an appearance, he’s only mentioned by Wen Ning once, as I indicated above. As for Wei Ying, he’s mentioned a few times and he kiiiiinda makes a cameo…but honestly, I wish they didn’t even attempt that cameo cuz it was so bad. It’s basically the backview of some extra dressed as Wei Ying and dubbed over by someone else that’s not Lu Zhixing-laoshi. Or if it is, the dub was so bad that it didn’t even sound like him anymore.

That’s actually one of my main problems with the movie: the dubbing or sound mixing just sucked. Every time there was dialogue it sounded very obviously that it was on a different track. I didn’t even feel like the characters were saying the words because their voices sounded detached from them. Whereas in The Untamed, I sometimes would completely forget that with the exception of Nie Huaisang, everyone’s line reads were performed by voice actor because the voices were blended so well within the scenes. I don’t know the technical terms of all this dubbing stuff so hopefully I’m making some sense.

Another big problem was the CGI. Holy crap was it bad. It was so bad at no point was I able to immerse myself into the action scenes…I didn’t feel anyone was in danger because they were being attacked by a bunch of obvious and bad CGI. One of the worse scenes that they showed THREE times was when the sister (Xiao Qing) being burned up in CGI flames. First of all her acting was horrendous (why was she covering her ears while she’s being burned alive??) and then the fake fire just made me groan out loud. I didn’t even want to look it was so embarrassingly bad.

I’m trying to figure out when they shot this movie…in order for them to be able to release the movie so soon after the show, the filming had to overlap with The Untamed’s filming, right? So I guess budget was still tight, probably even tighter than the main show, since CQL probably didn’t start actually seeing the money it made from ads, etc until towards the end. Either way, it feels like they didn’t put much money into this movie, especially not the effects. And if I’m going to be honest, I think they probably just had their second…nay…probably third unit direct it. Or at least, they had their third unit decide on some of the casting cuz some of the performances were…OOF. One thing I really appreciated about The Untamed is that even with most of the background actors, there was hardly a glaringly bad performance. I’ve said before the worse really was the actor who played Wen Ruohan, which is a shame cuz he’s more than an extra, but overall all the performances by the supporting characters ranged from decent to strong with hardly a weak link. Here, in this movie, I would say most of the performances from the new cast members were very mediocre. In fact, the only truly consistently good performances from beginning to end was Zheng Fanxing (Sizhui) and that cute little girl in the beginning:

I was kind of sad when she got killed off cuz she was adorable and definitely a MUCH better actor that the dude who played her older brother…at no point was I remotely convinced he was scared so on the other hand I was happy he died. But I thought she was going to burn to death or something because it didn’t seem like a good idea to have her hide in a wooden cupboard with a lite stove…that was so stupid and weird. Btw, what the hell was with that cat screeching sound effect?? Sounded like someone was throwing a cat, but like WHY?

As for the three new players introduced for this movie—Gao Han as Xiao Yi, Wang Yifei as Xiao Qing and He Longlong as Zhou Zishu—I’ve never seen their work before, and nothing about their performances in this movie makes me interested in what they will do in the future. To be fair, Gao Han tried…you can totally tell he was trying REALLY hard in some of his scenes, but for the most part, he either overacted or strangely enough, underacted. He was just really inconsistent. I know Zhou Zishu was supposed to be a red herring so the fact that he started out looking sketchy AF was supposed to be a ruse since our narrator was entirely untrustworthy, but even in the context of that false narration, he was really bad. As for the sister played by Wang Yifei…just look at her performance as she’s being burned up again.

By the way, I’m gonna say this now: if Wei Ying and Lan Zhan don’t even get to share a fucking real hug between them throughout the entirety of The Untamed, then I don’t think some generally unimportant-in-the-greater-scheme-of-things couple should be allowed to freaking KISS in anything related to the world of CQL.

I understand it’s all about the censorship, etc etc, but if any hetero couple deserved to share an onscreen kiss, it would’ve been Shijie and Jin Zixuan, and since even they were deprived of that, then these two nobodies should not have been granted this privilege. Seriously, fuck whoever decided to stick that moment in the movie. That’s just fucking unfair and really annoyed me. There better not be any more of that kind of nonsense in the Nie brothers‘ movie.

The last I’ll say about performances is that sadly, I felt as if there was something off about Yu Bin’s. I totally understand that this is a different Wen Ning than the one we saw in the show—he’s older, more mature, since God knows how many years have passed already—so I don’t mind that he’s more serious. But at the same time, he was just so uneven that I couldn’t get behind his performance at all. He was always one key off, if that makes any sense, so it almost felt like someone else was playing Wen Ning entirely, someone who is completely unfamiliar with that character. And his work in the…whatever fuck that place was…Yin Metal purgatory?? (and for those who are familiar with Guardian, that place was giving me bad flashbacks to Dixing)…was kind of cringey overall.

I wanted to love seeing Wen Ning be a badass wise uncle, so I actually feel really sad that I couldn’t enjoy his performance in general. However, what I absolutely did enjoy was seeing uncle and nephew bonding and working together…

…just wish those moments weren’t marred by all that bad CGI.

Wen Ning’s new look gave me pause though: not that I didn’t appreciate the whole metal look, but I kind of couldn’t figure out why Wen Ning added the chains back to his ensemble when he got rid of them back in The Untamed already.

I mean, if the black veins on his neck don’t attract attention, walking around wearing heavy, clangy chains sure would probably alarm people as well, I think.

Last thing on Wen Ning: again, not that I didn’t appreciate his newfound ability to hulk out, but yikes, that whole effect was ruined by yet again bad CGI AND a really goofy score. Sounded like something they “borrowed” from Naruto.

Except for that one piece of music, I did like the score for the rest of the movie, especially in the opening credits since it definitely evoked a sense of creepiness. The images in the credits were good too. I can easily imagine that being the OP creds to a horror anthology.

As for the story, I was fine with it. I liked that they related the family to Nightless City because apparently they are the ones who helped make Nightless City nightless? Here I thought it was the surrounding lava but I guess there were lanterns lighting the place up that I just somehow missed completely. I liked the plot twist with Xiao Yi and his “sister”…although I did guess there was some incesty thing going on in the beginning…just didn’t think I would be right and wrong at the same time. I thought they would relate their relationship back to Wen Ning and Wen Qing somehow, considering the sisters shared the same name…this was before the “incest” part was confirmed of course…but they never really did so having Wen Qing share the same name as Xiao Qing felt like an oddity in the end. It’s also odd how they used the same phonetically sounding last name of “Xiao” since of course I immediately thought of Xiao Zhan (different characters). Like, couldn’t they come up with completely different names? Overall, the plot wasn’t bad, as mysteries go, at first I couldn’t figure out why the Yin Metal all of a sudden had all these new powers and why the metal wielder, Zhou Zishu, would become a ghost puppet himself, but with the plot twist, all of that was explained so I was fine with it. The last shot of “Xiao Yi” in the Yin Metal purgatory made me guffaw; yeah, that didn’t look suggestive AT ALL.

The Living Dead actually makes me look forward even more to the next movie, The Fatal Journey. I’m hoping that since it’s potentially about the Nie brother’s past and Jin Guangyao, that perhaps there will be less need for CGI as it will focus more on just dialogue and story-telling. Not to mention, again, apologies to Yu Bin fans, but those three actors are generally stronger performers, so with them at the helm, I’m expecting/hoping for greater things.

Since I’ve been mostly negative, I wanted to leave on at least one positive note: Sizhui is still an adorable puppy. His dads, wherever they are, whatever they’re doing during the movie, must be so proud of him.

#The Untamed #陈情令 #CQL #The Living Dead movie #Wen Ning #Lan Sizhui #Mo Dao Zu Shi #魔道祖师 #WangXian

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sp4c3-0ddity · 6 years ago

Note

for the trope mashup: 9 or 12 + 66 for Plance, please? ;) btw, what other ships do you like writing for? I'd love to send prompts for other characters too, but I'd hate to ask for a ship you dislike. thanks! :D

oh hi i like...several other ships. i like writing kallura too, and maybe wouldn’t mind trying my hand at kidge or heith, but my muse is so stubborn it tends to scream PLANCE at me all hours of the day ;_;

but now for something a little spoopy...except this is more angsty than scary or creepy. no, if you want “creepy” wait till you get a load of post-apocalyptic android Pidge AU

~5200 words, urban fantasy AU. enjoy!!

(12) Roommate AU

(66) It’s Not You It’s My Enemies

The envelope sits heavily in Pidge’s hand, and trying to starethrough the paper to see its contents isn’t working. She’s not Superman.

(Unless she is and the paper’s lined with lead?)

A divining charm wieldednothing, so she knows it’s not enchanted. But she can’tnot besuspicious of an envelope that someone dropped through a greenhouse windowright in her office, her alias - Pidge Gunderson - printed on it in purple ink.

Keith hopping onto hercluttered desk jerks her from her thoughts. She offers the envelope to him, andwhen he sniffs it he says, It’s clean. No magic at all…

“Not even a werewolf?” she half-teases, quirking an eyebrow.

He bares his white fangs indispleasure, indicating he doesn’t appreciate her joke, butPidge laughs as she slices the envelope open with a knife.

Her mirth fades when a smallmetallic cylinder falls out and rolls across her desk. With the air trapped inher lungs, Pidge picks it up with a pair of forceps and raises it to her eye.

A bullet.

A silver bullet.

She drops it into an emptyglass with a clatter and, with her heart beating an uneven rhythm against herribs, pulls a note from the envelope.

You have until the end of themonth.

-S.

A scowl twists her lips, furygripping her as she crumples the note in her fist and throws it against theopposite wall with a wordless yell. She glares at where it lands in one of hermany pots of soil before anger dissipates and something like gut-wrenching fear replaces it instead.

Pidge buries her face in herhands. “W-what am I going to do?”

Keith, bristling and startledwith his ears folding back, prompts, Pidge?

“I-I screwed up,” she confesses in a low voice, pressing herfingers into her eyes, “again.

“What now? Every time I think I’m close to bringing them down,they—” Her chest tightens, but her rage is quickly returning, her fingernailsdigging into her palms.

The silver bullet sitting inits glass catches her eye, mocking her, but before she can grab that and chuck it across the room, apatterned knock sounds from the door.

“Are you okay, Pidge? I heard you yell, and I can smell your f—”

She sucks in a breath, herheart racing while her gaze roves around the room, searching for an excuse. “I-It’s nothing, Lance,” she replies as levelly as she can. “Keithjust…started digging in one of my planters and I thought he might’ve gotten tothe roots.”

Keith hisses at her, ignoringher apologetic shrug, his bushy black tail swishing behind him as he hops offher desk and darts behind her bed.

To her relief, Lance seems tobuy her excuse. “Are you sure Keith is your familiar and notjust a cat you brought to torment me?”

Another hiss from behind herbed, and Lance grumbles, “Fine, fine, you understandevery word I’m saying…”

A reluctant smile pushes at herlips, and she props her elbow on her desk. “Yes, he is myactual familiar, Lance.”

“Just making sure since if the landlord finds out—”

“What is this, your fiftieth time asking?” Pidge wonders, raisingan eyebrow at the door. “And you don’t care about the landlord finding out; youjust don’t like cats!”

“Pidge, I’m a werewolf!” Lance retorts, and she can imagine himrolling his eyes. “It would be weird if I did like cats, so you’re lucky I like you enough to let him stay!”

Pidge’s pathetic heart skips a beat, but she manages to respond alittle breathlessly, “I-I’m flattered.”

“A-anyway,” Lance continues, his voice cracking, “since I’m hereyou want to…do something tonight? I’m leaving in the morning since tomorrownight’s the full moon so…”

In her mind’s eye he smiles sheepishly, hopefully, and rubs the back of hisneck while shifting from foot to foot. Nervous tics…but why is he nervous?

The note echoes through herhead, the silver bullet a subtle but obvious threat that fills her withforeboding. She’s running out of time…

But there’s no reason she can’t enjoy what she has left with Lance.

“All right,” she says, smiling. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m moving out,” Pidge announces while they’re watching a movie.

Lance isn’t sure what it’s about, or even what the title is. Pidge chose it- it looks like some kind of thriller, with a plot more complicated than theaction movies he prefers - and he shrugged when she connected her laptop,entertained enough by the occasional explosions and how soft her hair feelsbetween his fingers when he teases out the tangles.

But his hand freezes as heprocesses her words, his heart plummeting. “O-oh? You...found a betterplace?”

And what’s wrong with their apartment? Sure, thekitchen is tiny and some mysterious substance stains the sofa cushions andthere are tiles missing in the bathroom and the power outages are just alittle too frequent and thesmoke alarms are overly sensitive and at least three streetlights needreplacing at any given time and water drips in through the windows whenever itrains, but it’s still home.

“Yeah, I-I found a new job.” Pidge sits up, her body drifting awayfrom Lance as she avoids his eyes.

“I didn’t even know you were looking for a new job,” he says,unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

“I didn’t want to tell you until I knew it would work out,” shesays with an apologetic smile. She rests her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.If it’s any consolation, I’m not leaving till the end of the month.”

“Time enough to find a new roommate, huh?” Lance raises aneyebrow, trying not to show how much that thought hurt. “What’s wrong with your job here, Pidge?”

“Nothing,” she admits, shrugging. “I just felt a little...stagnant.I needed a change, somewhere I could grow, and some place closer to my family.I miss them.”

A sigh escapes him, and hemusters a smile for her when she looks up at him. “I can understand that,” he says. “I guess I’ll have to missyou now.”

Pidge half-jumps into his lapwhen she throws her arms around his neck. “I’ll miss you too,” shemurmurs, her warm breath brushing his ear, her sweet, earthy scent filling hisnostrils, “you goofball.”

Lying to Lance leaves a bittertaste in her mouth, and the guilt weighing down her heart only grows heavierthe longer he’s away.

By now she’s accustomed to him spending a day or two out of every month in arented warehouse on the waterfront - despite her brewing a potion to mitigatethe worst of his transformation, he errs on the side of caution and spends thefull moon away from her - but this time the apartment’s emptiness and quietstabs something through her chest and twists.

A big part of her wants toutilize the time she doesn’t have her job at thegreenhouses to distract her hunting down the one who sent her that note, butshe doesn’t have anything personal - the bullet is completely clean offingerprints and oils and the note wasn’t written by hand - with which to casta tracking spell.

Besides, whoever it is surelyhas powerful friends…friends that can still make her life or the livesof her loved ones miserable or worse.

If Pidge can’t take the Galra down from the top in one fell swoop, picking themoff one by one won’t help if they can so easily pinpoint the one person shecares for in the whole damn city.

You can always tell him, Keith suggests, interruptingher moping by prodding her hand with his head.

“What good will that do?” she asks. She rests her hand on his backwhen he curls into a ball beside her, careful not to pet him lest he decide he’drather bite her. A heavy sigh escapes her, and she burrows deeper into ablanket that smells like Lance’s natural musk. “He’ll just try to convince me tostay anyway, and I’m worried it’ll work.”

God, but she wants to stay with him. She enjoys thestability in the routine they established in the year she’s lived here, enjoys his company and their banter, enjoys playingvideo games on the nights he has off from work and convincing him to sample thepotions she sells via Internet order and hearing that curious, low growl fromthe back of his throat when they’re out and an inebriated man so much as leersin her direction…

But she needs to keep him safe, even at the expense of her happiness.

What can the Galra really do? Keith scoffs. The second they make a move—

Pidge smacks her hands to herface and hisses, “I don’t have the proof I need yet! I can exposethem to mortal police, but what damage will that do?” She bolts to her feet, displacing Keith as she stalks into thekitchen and fills a kettle while her heart pounds a frantic tempo. “As long asI’m digging - as long as they’re intact - then they’ll keep threatening m-mymother and”—she flicks the stove on under the kettle—”now Lance too.”

How stupid was she to thinkthat simply moving would put them off? Feigning an identity and living under anassumed name only shifted their focus from her mother to…her roommate.

The same roommate she fell inlove with.

She opens and slams shutcupboards searching for her tea, and when she finds them in the back of adrawer, the mix she wants isn’t there.

“For the love of the—”

Something tugging on her pantleg attracts her attention, and she peers down to see Keith with a plastic bagin his mouth.

“Thanks,” she says with a sheepish smile, holding her hand out toaccept the bag of dried flowers when Keith jumps onto the counter. She raisesan eyebrow at him after dumping the tea into the boiling kettle, watching himnibbling the pads on his paw. “You know Lance doesn’t like it when—”

I won’t tell him if you don’t, Keith tells her.

The knife in Pidge’s chest twists, and she bites her lip and says, “It’s far fromthe worst I’m keeping from him.”

After calling his mother likehe does the morning after any full moon, Lance stands outside his apartmentdoorway. The ache of a transformation behind him still fills his muscles, andhe wants nothing more than to crawl under his bedsheets and sleep the day awayuntil his night shift.

But he can’t enter yet, not when Pidge might already be at work and he mightwalk into an empty apartment just like he will every morning after she leaves.

While he deliberates with dreadtying his stomach into knots, the door swings open.

Pidge pulls up short, her eyeswidening behind her glasses as they focus on his face. “Lance,” she breathes. “Y-you’re back early.”

“I am?” He frowns, something about her demeanor making the hairson the back of his neck stand on end, and…oh, yes, that’s the bitter scent offear wafting off her. “Pidge, are you—”

“Running late for work?” she interrupts with a too-broad smile. “Yes,yes I am.” She hefts her bag higher onto her shoulder and adds, “I’ll bestaying late to make up for it too. Don’t expect me to be back before youleave. Bye, Lance!”

Pidge pushes past him withoutwaiting for him to say anything, but as she speeds down the hall and disappearsinto the stairwell, he raises a hand and waves.

It’s much the same for the next week, with him only seeing Pidge ashe returns home from work and she leaves for hers with nothing more than a curtgoodbye. Not so much as a hug exchanged or a stray touch or a kind word.

He sits alone in theirapartment on the same couch they’ve fallen asleep on togethercountless times, enveloped by the unique sweet scent of her brand of magic anddeclining his friends’ invitations to go out on his night off - the first nighthe has a prayer of his time home overlapping with Pidge’s.

Lance’s chest tightens, and he can’t help wondering if he’s lost Pidgebefore she’s even left him.

Pidge’s first thought when she steps through the doorway is that sheshould’ve bought more food from the Thai takeout place on the next block.

Her second thought is why is Lance home?

He’s slumped on the couch, a furrow in his brow and the tip of histongue sticking out of his mouth while he clutches a Gameflux controller, stillwearing his pajamas with a massive cowlick at the back of his head like he justrolled out of bed.

Which, considering hisschedule, he probably did just rollout of bed.

But the sight of him sittingthere makes her breath catch. For the last week she’s timed it perfectly so that she comes home after he leaves forwork, so seeing him there is…unnerving.

“What’re you still doing here?” she blurts once she finds hertongue.

Lance sags as his character onscreen dies, the music descending a scale, and looks over the back of the couchtowards her. “I…have tonight off from work?”

Pidge’s jaw flaps uselessly. She sets her dinner on the kitchen counterwhile she recovers before finally saying, “I forgot.”

“Oh, so if you knew I didn’t have work tonight, you would’ve…what?”Lance shoots to his feet and wanders around the sofa into the kitchen, hiseyebrow raised and arms crossed. “Spent the night at the greenhouses to avoidme?”

His accusation squeezes herheart, and she can’t bring herself to meet his eyes. She busies herhands with pulling takeout boxes from the paper bag and says, “I just…have alot of packing to do before I move, and with you distracting me—”

“Avoiding me before you leave isn’t going to make it any easier onme…or on either of us,” Lance points out in a low but cutting voice. “A fewweeks aren’t enough time to find a new roommate, for one; do you know how hardit was to find someone after Hunk moved out?”

Pidge bites her lip, fingerstightening around the box of chicken satay while an unreasonable spike ofirritation hits her. “I guess I’m just convenient because I didn’t mindthe whole werewolf thing, huh?”

Lance’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “Wait, what—”

She glares at her food andbites out, “I’m used to your mannerisms - like your hypersensitive nose andears and your meaty diet and your overprotectiveness while we’re out - so youjust don’t want the inconvenience of finding someone else like me to split rentwith.”

Pidge swallows around a stupid,sudden lump in her throat at the thought that Lance would one day replace her, even as just a roommate, even if it’s better for him.

“That’s not at all what I meant, Pidge!” he retorts, flailing his arms. “I mean, sure, having to find anew roommate is inconvenient, but maybe I justdon’t want you to leave?”

She finally forces her eyes upto his, taking in his deep frown and just…how unhappy he looks.

She can wash that all away,take his hands - how tactile Lance iscan be a blessing as much as a curse - and reassure him she won’t be going anywhere. But instead she grits out, “That’s not up toyou.”

“I know it’s not,” Lance says, “but why avoid me?”

She pinches her eyes shut,pretends she can’t hear the hurt in his voice or feel the dread weighing her down.

He has a point, Keith offers from his perch onthe back of the sofa. Why not just spendwhat time you have left with him?

“Won’t you get jealous?” she mumbles, low enough that he’ll hearher but Lance won’t.

“Get jealous of who?” Lance says, quirking an eyebrow inconfusion.

Ah, right…werewolf ears.

“Nothing, I just…” Pidge sags, the tension bleeding out of her.She sets her food down and flexes her stiff fingers, staring at them as sheadmits more easily than she should, “Y-you’re right. Avoiding you isn’t goingto make me miss you any less when I leave.”

“So…?”

An unwitting grin pushes up herlips, stunned that only a single syllable can hold so much hope. She pulls achair away from the kitchen table and says, “I know you prefer meat, but…whatabout with peanut butter?”

Half-empty boxes sit in pilesall over the apartment’s interior, papers and books and binders and theleaves of potted plants poking out of them. Lance should be accustomed to themby now, should know to expect something sitting at the corner betweenhis bedroom and the bathroom, but his toe always collides with a box heavy withold electronics and an encyclopedia on green magic.

The pain shooting through hisfoot almost distracts him from the pang in his chest when he lays eyes on a boxthat’s fuller every time he looks at it, but he’s no closer tofiguring out some way to convince Pidge to stay.

It had been a mistake to whineabout the difficulty he’ll have finding a newroommate, and reminding her that he relies on her to brew the potion that easeshis monthly transformation is even more self-serving - and he can always askAllura to connect him with someone else.

But Lance can’t picture himself living in an apartment devoid of Pidge’s pottedherbs and bubbling cauldron and green magic “experiments”; he even can’timagine scenting the air without catching a whiff of cat. Theimage refuses to materialize, and he realizes with a startling clarity and withwarmth spreading through his chest that he loves her.

Lance groans and drapes himselfin the doorway to her bedroom. In a week all her belongings will be gone, fromKeith’s cat tree in the corner to the grimoire of spells lying open onthe vanity, nothing but her scent lingering behind…and even that will fadewithin a month.

A low, feline growl disruptshis bleak thoughts. When Lance zeroes in on the source, Keith meets his gazefrom his hiding spot behind Pidge’s bed, his yellow eyes gleamingin the shadow.

“I guess you’re looking forward to being gone, huh?” Lance says,crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “Bet you won’t miss me, and I won’tmiss you either!”

Pidge’s familiar doesn’t react beyond an agitated flick of his tail, whichLance can’t interpret. Reading feline body language isn’t exactly his strongsuit.

The lack of response rankleshis nerves. He sits heavily on the edge of Pidge’s bed and buries his face inhis hands.

“Maybe I should tell her,” he mumbles. “Maybe if she knows I loveher, she’ll change her mind…”

But what would be the point? Ifhe tells her and she stays, won’t she regret not taking thatnew, better job to be closer to her family? Eventually she’ll just resent him…

“And if she feels the same, would she even want to leave?”

A clink of metal against glassmakes him jump, and he spins around to see Keith vaulting from the desk ontothe bed. He crosses to Lance on silent paws, something in his teeth glittering.

“What’s that in your mouth?” he wonders, raising an eyebrow. WhenKeith bows his head, Lance’s eyes widen in alarm, and he taps his chin. “Wait,no, don’t eat that! If you die on my watch, Pidge will—”

Keith spits his “meal” into his open palm.

It burns his skin on contact,shooting hot pain up his arm. A yelp escapes him as he bolts to his feet, andhe turns his hand, dropping something small and metallic onto thestar-patterned comforter.

Lance rubs his hand, wincing atthe lingering heat, more focused and intense than a sunburn. A red rectangularmark is burned into his palm.

He reaches a hand towards thetiny metal cylinder lying on the bed before thinking better of it.

He grabs the bath towel drapedover the edge of Pidge’s desk chair and picks up the object with it,raising it to eye level. “What the cheese? Is this a bullet?”

Lance glances at Keith seatedon the bed, observes the thrashing of his tail and the black fur bristlingalong his spine.

And he may not know cats, buthe does know Keith.

Just like he knows that asilver bullet can kill a werewolf dead if it so much as penetrates his skin.

Pidge hasn’t delayed coming home since she reached a truce with Lance, whichis why finding him dressed in his security guard uniform and waiting to greether before he leaves isn’t shocking.

But the way he looks at herwhen she passes through the door - like he’s never seen herbefore - makes her heart skip a beat in alarm.

Lance holds out his hand, andPidge shakily wonders, “W-why are you wearing glovesin…”

The silver bullet glints almostprettily in his hand.

She sucks in a breath andraises her eyes to his, her whole body flushing with the wrong emotion - with anger. “What the hell were you doingin my room?” she demands.

Lance’s fist closes on the bullet as he retorts, “Why do you have a silver bullet in there?”

“I have a—it’s not mine!”

“Then why do you have something that can literally kill me?” He drops the bullet on the coffee table, ignoringit when it rolls off and disappears under the couch, and peels off his glove.He waves his hand in Pidge’s face and exclaims, “Look at this!”

Her breath catches in herthroat at the sight of the livid red mark on his skin, proof that just thetouch of silver can hurt him. “I…you weren’t meant to find that,”she mutters lamely, her anger fading.

“Clearly Keith never got the message!” Lance gestures around the room, and it’s only then that Pidgerecognizes her familiar is nowhere in sight. “And this is nasty enough it mightscar!”

She pinches her eyes shut andsays, “I-I’m sorry.”

“What’s it for anyway?” He crosses his arms, not quite loomingover her but getting close. “You keep this in case I stick around for the fullmoon?”

“Of course not!” Pidge fires back, her fists clenching at hersides. “And even if you did, I know you’re not any danger to me!”

“Is it for someone else then?” Lance wonders. His demeanor shifts,tension filling his limbs and a scowl twisting his lips. “D-do you know manyother werewolves that are threatening you and you needto defend yourself against?”

Pidge’s jaws flap uselessly, startled by his line of questioning, buther shame writhes in her stomach, at how close yet how far heis from the mark. “I…don’t know any other werewolves here, no…”

“Then why do you have it? I’ve never even seen you carry a weapon…orare you hiding a gun under your pillow too?”

“I carry mace,” she grumbles, but a sigh bursts from her and shemutters, “Someone sent it to me.”

Lance’s eyes widen. “Who? Did you tell—”

“Of course not!” Pidge retorts, glaring at him. “My mother’s awitch too, and I haven’t even told her that I live with a werewolf.W-why would I deliberately endanger you like that?”

“I don’t—wait, deliberately?”

Her chest tightens, a grimacecrossing her face. Of course hepicked out the one word she shouldn’t have let slip. “Lance, Ishould—”

Come clean? Keith suggests from wherever he’s hiding. I agree.

“Shut up,” she mutters under her breath, although she suspects he’ssomewhere he can’t hear her. She turns to Lance, who stares at her, his blueeyes no longer as accusatory but something in them still making the knife inher gut twist. “Keith gave you that, didn’t he?”

He nods. “I didn’t think a witch’s familiar could snitch on them.”

Pidge rolls her eyes. “When Keith and I renew our contract, I’ll have something to addto it, apparently…but he’s right. I should tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Lance asks warily.

“Something…important. Wait here.” She retreats to her bedroom -barely sparing a glance for Keith curled up on her pillow - and grabs thewrinkled note off her desk. When she returns to the living room, Lance sitsslumped against the couch’s arm, and Pidge perches beside him.

She passes him the note.

“You want me to read during my time off the clock?” he grumbles,but his gaze already scans the words, eyes widening.

He waves it, glowering. “Who sent this to you?”

“A warlock named Sendak,” Pidge explains, a shiver of feartraveling up her spine at the image of his darkly enchanted smoky eye fixed onthe camera - on her - every time she watched thechilling recording. “He’s a high-ranking member of the so-called GalraEmpire.”

Lance’s eyes bug out. “Pidge, why are you—”

“My real name is Katie,” she confesses, wringing the hem of hersweater. “Pidge is a dumb childhood nickname my brother gave me.”

“Katie…” Lance breathes, almost like he’s tasting it, and Pidgehas to bite her lip to keep from smiling at the sound of her real name fallingfrom his tongue.

“Why are you—”

“My dad was - is - a witch too. His and mybrother’s specialty is magical devices and technology powered with magic.They”—she inhales shakily, her heart squeezing—”were on the brink of inventinga sort of…magical battery with unlimited capacity that anyone, not just thecreator, could add to or draw from.” She pulls her feet onto the couch andwraps her arms around her legs, swallowing. “Th-that’s when they, theprototype, and all the designs disappeared.”

Lance wraps an arm around hershoulders. She leans into him, closing her eyes and shuddering as his warmthenvelopes her.

“And you think the Galra took them?”

“I know they did,” Pidge hisses, glaring through her eyelashes at the floor. “Icombed the security footage from my dad’s lab more times than I can count untilI found him. Andwhen I started to dig into them”—her fingernails dug intopalms—”and I knew I had to disappear too.”

He prods her arm and presses, “But why is a warlock threatening you? What did you—”

Her throat itches as she blinkstears from her eyes. “I-it’s not me he’s threatening, Lance.”

“W-what?”

She pulls away from him,raising her gaze to his. “Th-the first time theythreatened my mother,” she says carefully, “I didn’t believe them.” Her stomachroils with shame all over again, but she pushes it away. “Sh-she’s lucky allshe lost is her voice.”

“O-oh.” Lance takes her hands, his surprisingly soft fingerswrapping around hers, and offers her a tremulous smile. “So they’re threateningher again?”

If not for him holding herhands, she would’ve smacked her forehead out of mounting frustration. “Lance,” shegrits out, “Sendak sent me a silver bullet.”

Guilt bites her whenrealization hits him, when his eyes shoot open and his fingers tighten aroundhers. “W-what?”

“You still want me to stay here?” Pidge asks, her brow furrowing. “Giveme one good reason, Lance.”

His jaw sets, and he blurts, “Me!”

Lance refuses to second guess.

He kisses her, cupping her facebetween his hands and tilting her head back. Her scent - so much like theflowers blooming on the fire escape, so much like the pure magic that risesfrom the earth in the country - fills his nose. Her fingers curl around hiswrists, her mouth a soft pressure against his.

A shiver runs up his spine athow effortlessly she takes over his senses.

A sigh escapes Pidge, warmagainst his lips, when he pulls back. Her eyes, slightly glazed and stillglistening with tears and crossing to keep his in view, flicker open. “Lance,” she murmurs, her thumb skirting over the soft skin on hiswrist and shooting heat up his arm.

Lance feels the dampness on hercheeks under his palms - against the burn - and wipes a tear that trails fromthe corner of her eye. “Pidge—”

She leans up and captures hislips again.

Pidge flings her arms aroundhis neck, pulling him against her. He wraps his around her back, wanting todraw closer, to feel the heat of her body flush against his.

Always wanting her there, regardlessof the threat. He can forgive her for keeping secrets if only she stays.

Her fingers run through hishair, tugging him a little closer. His nose bumps hers, and they break apart,breathless.

“I-I love you, Pidge,” he murmurs into her lips, his eyesflickering open to meet hers, warm and brown. “Or…Katie.” He smiles, reachingup to brush her hair away from her flushed cheek. “I-is that a good enoughreason?”

Lance reads the conflict in herface, his chest tightening when she pulls back with her eyes pinched shut.

“Th-that’s why I have to leave,” she tells him, even as her hand cups his jaw, her fingers softand warm against his skin. “I love you too, so I don’t want to be the reasonyou get hurt.”

“You won’t be,” he insists with growing desperation. “I-I can takecare of myself. And I even tolerate Keith!”

Pidge rests her foreheadagainst his collar bone, a shudder rippling through her and the scent of herfloral shampoo tickling his nose. “Lance,” she whispers, “you’rea security guard at a jewelry store.”

“So what?”

“So a supposed burglar can shoot you and make it look like an accident,”she suggests. “Someone can spike your food or drink with silver dust—”

“Then I’ll only eat or drink stuff that someone I trust prepares,”Lance counters. But a new idea takes root, and he licks his lips, his heartskipping a beat at what he’s about to suggest.

“Or—”

“Pidge,” he cuts her off, taking her chin and tilting her headback until their eyes meet, “how about I make the Galra my enemy too?”

She gasps, her eyes widening. “How is that a solution?” she demands. “Do you know howdangerous they are? And you’re not even a witch!”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I do know something about howdangerous they are, and I know people who know even better.” He can’t help glowering at her, still a little put out she kepther dilemma from him for a whole year. “And I can introduce you to them.”

“But—”

She falls silent again when hepresses his lips to her wrinkled brow. “And you never know, Pidge,” hesays, shrugging, “you might meet someone who wants to bring them down as muchas you do.”

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #keith #as a familiar #pidge owes him now lol #i'm sorry i tease again #voltron #qna #reem writes fic #without proofreading yet again!!#i had another prompt that asked for a roommates au too #but the dialogue it went with ended up not fitting #so...i'm sorry anon who sent roommates + boredom prompt #i'm never writing that now #unless i like do it in an existing au...#Anonymous

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yoongisidentaety-blog · 7 years ago

Text

ghost!yoongi

-ghost yoongi my hearteu

-so yoongi started out as a normal person

-”normal”

-he was a coffee barista and had his own coffee shop and everything

-he didn’t have a family but there was a cute cat in the building next to his

-and he also was good friends with the bookstore owner next door, taehyung

-that means he a single pringle ready to mingle *wink wink*

-his coffee and tea shop was a cute lil place with an apartment upstairs where he lived

-but one day he got robbed and the robber set the shop on fire

-yoongi was so dazed and tired bc he woke up from a nap and he tripped and fell into the fire

-rip yoongi

-he was probably in his twenties when he died

-in this au ghosts stay the same age when they die

-but a ghost can turn human again if it experiences a true love, given and returned

-wow we got some beauty and the beast stuff going on here

-but once they are human they begin to age normally again

-so about 50 or so years later

-the place where the coffee shop once was has been reconstructed and stuff

-now it is just a tea house

-with boba don’t forget the boba

-just saying boba is life so yeh

-and you and your best friend own the shop and run it by yourselves

-and yall live in the apartment upstairs

-no one informed you guys about the guy who died there like 50 years ago

-but yoongi isn’t a violent ghost or anything

-he was very lowkey when you moved in

-but when you did move in

-boy was he confused

-”whoA THERE'S HuMAnS”

-yoongi actually admired you and your friend

-he liked the decorations and the way that everything was laid out in your apartment

-he was really curious about what you sold in your tea house what a cutie

-”cOLD teA whAt in tHe wOrLD”

-he always kinda wanted to try boba too

-he’s a ghost so like he can’t eat or drink

-sorry yoongi

-anyways

-as time went on yoongi actually really started to admire you

-and he admired your friend too but

-his old friend taehyung next door who died like a few weeks after him already had a crush on your friend so

-cough

-yoongi liked the way you yelled when you got excited and he loved how you always put a smiley face next to everyone’s order at the tea house

-and he loved how passionate you were about your job

-yall love your tea and boba and coffee and stuff

-so in this au ghosts can physically show themselves when they feel strong emotions

-any strong emotions btw

-ghosts can also communicate with other humans when they are experiencing strong emotions and showing themselves too so go figure

-they can learn to control it eventually but it's rare to find a ghost that can vanish and disappear as they please

-so you have a piano in your apartment that you play all the time

-yoongi always loved playing the piano back when he was alive

-dang that sounds ominous

-”when he was alive”

-i get distracted easily sorry

-but yoongi always loves sitting on your piano bench and remembering all of the songs he used to play

-he can't physically play the piano anymore but you get the idea

-he also really likes your piano skills and stuff

-and your taste in music he loves your taste in music

-so anyway back to the story

-one day yoongi was sitting at the piano and was just minding his own business

-and you walk up to the piano and sit on the bench next to yoongi

-keep in mind that you cant see yoongi and you have no idea he exists (as a ghost or human lol)

-and poor yoongi got startled bc he didn’t see you next to him and he gets startled?

-he practically jumps off of the bench

-actually he falls off the bench but that's a minor detail

-and he physically shows himself

-because i mean he was scared so

-and then you freak out and he freaks out and your roommate freaks out from upstairs bc of all of the noise downstairs

-there's a lot of screaming and luckily the tea house isn't open because you would have scared all of the customers

-and then everyone’s screaming at each other

-”y/N YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND IS HE HURTING YOU OML I WILL FIGHT YOU IF YOU HURT-”

-”WHO ARE YOU GET OUT OF MY HOUSE HOW DID YOU GET HERE I WILL CALL THE POLICE YOU CREEP”

-”aHHH HUMAN INTERACTION IS BAD”

-a lotta mixed feelings there cough

-you keep screaming at yoongi and try to attack him and then your friend eventually figures out that he’s not your boyfriend

-and yoongi looks so scared and soft and startled and you realize that he looks kind of pale and ur just ???

-so then you stop trying to attack him

-and ur voice hurts so like lets just talk for now heh

-the conversation goes like this:

-”whO aRE YOu”

-’IM SORRY IM JUST A GHOST AND WHEN GHOSTS GET STARTLED AND STUFF THEY SHOW THEMSELVES AND STUFF AND I DIED HERE LIKE 50 YEARS AGO AND I HAVEN'T BEEN HAUNTING YOU OR ANYTHING IM SORRY”

-*palmface*

-and then ur just like oh there's a ghost in my house i mean it's just fiNE its not like i have a whole business downstairs and i can't move or anything lol everything's fine lmao

-*nervous laugh*

-eventually you and yoongi and your friend get used to each other

-yoongi explains the concept of ghosts and stuff too so none of yall are confused

-actually your friend ends up meeting the ghost next door too cough cough

-yoongi can’t verbally speak with you when he isnt showing himself but sometimes he can knock things over if he really tries

-sometimes you will be making ramen or something but when you stop paying attention to the water boiling on the stove yoongi will knock over a book or something to get your attention

-he doesn't want you to die in a fire so

-learning from our mistakes are we yoongi

-over time you and yoongi acknowledge each other almost on a daily basis

-and sometimes he shows himself but then again he can’t really control his habit of just disappearing and showing up

-you eventually figure out that he shows himself when he gets strong emotions

-every once in a while you will purposely turn on a horror movie or something and yoongi shows himself what a smol ball of fluff

-but then one day you realize that yoongi is showing himself a lot more than usual

-like he shows himself about twice a day

-little do you know that the emotions he feels when he shows himself daily comes from seeing you everyday hehe

-and whenever he shows himself you always smile at him and it just melts his heart

-dang im sounding real cheesy today

-but you always smile at yoongi or playfully push him or something like that bc,,,,,i mean,,,,he is cute after all right,,,,,

-you just can't get over how watchful and protective he is over you, and in the smallest ways

-cough

-and one day

-yoongi shows himself as usual

-you see him and smile but

-keep in mind that you're probably on a caffeine rush or something like yas boba

-you are in such a good mood that you reach over and like trap him in this big bear hug

-as stated before like yas go boba

-the boba you consumed beforehand has caused you to experience these feelings

-the boba gave you this adrenaline and happiness

-the boba starteD this physical contaCT

-ahem

-poor yoongi gets flustered and you begin to notice that he’s turning color?

-normally he looks kinda gray and pale

-but now he looks less gray and pale?

-he looks more human like?

-and then after a while you realize that he’s not vanishing???

-what is happening

-eventually he disappears but he was in physical form longer than usual?

-anyways you and yoongi begin to have a closer relationship

-”i think i'm going to move out yoongi but y/f/n is staying here and i’ll live next door with taehyung”

-”yah sure like you would leave me it should be the other way around”

-eventually your friend actually moves next door lol

-and you n yoongi become really close

-like really close

-you guys talk all the time and watch movies and stuff and yah

-and you realize like wow i would date yoongi if he wasn’t dead

-you guys are already practically dating anyway

-but one day ur just sitting on the couch and you fall asleep

-you had no idea that yoongi was sitting beside you so when you fall over to lie down on the couch he sees you on his lap and he’s just ???

-*internal yoongi screaming*

-he gets up and just stares at your face

-yep just casually staring at your face no strange feelings here

-and he finds himself just placing a sweet lil kiss on your cheek

-and then he realizes that he was in phySICAL FORM and you feLT THE kiSs

-way to go yoongi

-like he’s just falling in love with you but he doesn’t want to fall in love with you but he likes falling in love with you?

-ya know what i’m saying

-and now he’s scared because you’re waking up and he has no idea how to vanish again so yep we’re all screwed

-you wake up and see yoongi all red faced and staring at you with wide eyes

-those big brown eyes bless

-you realize what happened and you smile bc he’s just sO cuTe

-you keep on smiling and you reach over and give him a little kiss on the cheek too

-get ready for the really cute and fluffy and squeal worthy part ok

-you and yoongi are maintaining eye contact but then you guys smile and both whisper a sweet little “saranghae”

-aT THE SAME TIME WOWOW

-i ship

-but then yoongi begins to glow

-like literally glowing he’s burning your eyes

-and then he begins to float?

-and at that point the light is so bright you can’t look at him

-when he stops glowing and floating and stuff

-he just stands and stares at his body in awe

-bc he’s humAN

-human

-he is human

-and he isn’t pale and he’s in physical form and he’s human

-cough

-and he’s just so happy and you’re just so happy

And you jump up and you guys just hug

-you know that situation when you’re just so happy and you’re hugging someone who makes you happy and you guys just stand in a hug for a really long time but its not awkward

-yah that’s what happens

-bc you guys know how ghosts work

-*flashback time*

-”a ghost can turn human again if it experiences a true love, given and returned”

-remember our beauty and the beast inspired standards

-but yes you and yoongi are just so thankful for each other and love each other

-and eventually you guys double date with the other ghost-to-human couple next door:)

-but then again maybe it ends differently

-this is your story isn’t it

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bakumu-archive · 3 years ago

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I get that. My battery has long gone and i didnt bother to charge if that even make sense haha. Sorry im late as well as ive been under the weather and ive been sleeping like a log. Thank u for even taking ur time for this anon haha.

I kin kenma and suna. Even the quiz said so haha. Im the type to stay indoor and wont really talk unless i need to. I sleep the most in the group. I hv no motivation whatsoever. I hv a rbf which led ppl to think im arrogant even my hs teachers. But i would im the dont care type but would give advice when needed.

Good one! My top 5 are kenma, iwaizumi, sakusa, daichi and ushijima. It shifts as well haha

I hv 4 cats but of one of the four is my sis's cat. Im also allergic to them btw. Not as severe as pork but ill sneeze nonstop and my eyes will get very itchy rip. 2 of the 4 is a bit stupid but adorable. Stupid as in when someone is cooking and left the stove for a bit, this cat will go and sniff the fire.

Yeah dont trust tumblr cus tumblr has been crazy nowdays.

What are their names? And show us them cuties if u wanna

-⭐

Oh no! I hope you feel better soon! Take lots of naps and drink lots of water!!!

Kenma and suna are great. They really care about their friends even when their friends make it difficult 💖

But your top 5 is really good. I never got to go through an iwa phase and I feel like I'm missing out 😫 same with sakusa! But daichi and ushi 🥴 they do something to me I swear. And then kenma, who I personally find hard to lewd... but I have read some fics for him that changed me. Ugh so good.

Allergic to pork and cats 😫 that's the worst! Those are like my two favorite things in their respective categories. Cute that you still have some cats tho, I bet they are adorable!

And I will never miss a chance to post about my babies lol

The top cat is chaos, who is a menace. And then my tiny dog Lola, who is a very old lady and thinks that she is better than everyone else.

Bottom left is Blue, he's has nailed the cat stereotype and is very active. Then bottom right is our fluffy boy Wolfgang, he is very sensitive and has anxiety.

Fun fact: Wolfgang had a lot of complications with kidney stones (from stress) and he had to have surgery. So now he doesn't have a penis lmao

Tell me about yours! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#🌼.mail #⭐.anon

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anyway-i-love-vanderwood · 7 years ago

Text

you've heard of RFA & Minor Trio proposing to MC, now get ready for: MC proposing to all these dorks ^^ hope you're doing well btw

✿ sasjh ahh thank you for your ko-fi support, you’re all so generous. ♥ I tried a bit of a different format for this, please tell me if you like it!

You propose to Yoosung in possibly the most stereotypical way imaginable – by trying to spell it out on the high score field of your favorite arcade game.

Unfortunately, you and Yoosung share the same favorite arcade game (Honey Buddha Racers) and Yoosung is dense as a brick, so when you get the highest score on the game and input ‘Yoosung’ on the line, he finds it later, laughs at you and, thinking it’s some sort of joke, proceeds to beat your score and input your name on the top line. You beat him back, putting his name first again and thinking you should ban him from the game parlor until you’re freaking finished, but you don’t want to arouse his suspicion just yet.

The next day, you manage to get just under your high-score and input Will, but you have some trouble getting the other words to align right (including being undermined by some jerk who apparently was obsessed with getting onto the leaderboards) so you can only get two parts of your message before your prescribed playing time for the day is over.

The third time you try, you dedicate your entire Saturday afternoon to setting up your proposal, and approximately fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to meet Yoosung for dinner, you finish. Pleased, you go out to a restaurant with him, and then casually say you should check out the arcade afterwards.

He agrees. You both go in and, immediately he suggests a round of Honey Buddha Racers. You bring him to the machine, and on the screen, is…

YOOSUNG

WILL

YOU

KEVIN

ME?

“What?” Yoosung asks, squinting at the screen, and you clench your fists, seething and cursing to yourself. You were gone for like, an hour tops, and someone had ruined your proposal by beating one of your scores?

KEVIN WOULD PAY FOR THIS.

You get on one knee and propose anyway, because SCREW KEVIN, you were not letting him ruin your STUPID PROPOSAL.

(Despite the hiccups, Yoosung has stars in his eyes as he accepts.)

You propose to Zen with a smile, a rose clenched between your teeth and glittery flower petals strewn on the bed around you.

You’d gotten the idea from one of his musicals, specifically the one where Zen played a womanizing cat-boy who proposed to the female lead in the third act while wearing a diamond-encrusted speedo. Not to be outdone by your (soon-to-be) fiancée, you consume as many romantic movies, tv shows, and songs as possible in an attempt to melt down their contents and create the ur-proposal that would dominate all proposals for decades to come. They’d teach classes on your romantic ability, studying your silver tongue and your amorous passion! Stand aside, Cassanova! It was time for you to dominate history!

…Which is why you had a camera set up to record the entire thing.

Zen walks in to see you, in an exactingly pressed tuxedo, lying with one hand propping up your head and the other holding out a ring box. After a moment, you get up, and you do not climb off the bed, no – you billow. You sweep. You do a number of grand, romantic movements before you end up in front of him, on one knee, presenting him a diamond.

You whip the rose out of your mouth. You present it to him. He takes it, avoiding the spot that’s kind of shiny from your spit, and you recite a sonnet that you wrote and practiced extensively in the mirror specifically for him. You expected a lot of things – for him to swoon, for his knees to tremble, for him to grab your hands and say Yes, yes! Absolutely, yes! Let’s get married tomorrow!

Zen only does one of those things, instead bursting out laughing, putting his face in his hands… and saying that he loves you so much and that he will, without a doubt, promise to spend the rest of his life with you.

You propose to Jaehee with a cake.

Honestly, your planning could have been better. It was nothing to do with the cake itself! It was perfect! Handmade icing topping a perfectly moist chocolate body, gorgeous floral decorations, and a fondant that didn’t actually taste like shit with the words will you marry me? in a perfect, calligraphy-esque script on the top. It was her favorite color, favorite flavor, and your presentation was spot on, delivering it to her at the end of her shift along with a cup of coffee and a kiss on her cheek. No, your mistake was much smaller, much simpler than that.

After Jaehee squeals, hugs you, and says yesyesyes! About a million and one times, she asks you, like – not to be weird, but – where’s the ring?

And you look at the cake.

And you sweat, because you thought it would be cute to bake the goddamn diamond inside.

“Uh,” you say, and Jaehee facepalms and laughs.

You eat the entire cake during an all-day Zen musical binge, while making sure to take small, careful bites as you look for the ring.

[the rest are beneath the read-more!]

You propose to Jumin in a book.

Not a book you’ve written, to be precise, though that sounds like an excellent way to deliver your feelings in a way he can understand, and you wish you had the writing talent to deliver. No – it’s much simpler than that.

You don’t want to propose in public, as Jumin is such a Presence that it would naturally be co-opted by some sort of reporter or another, and you have nothing to prove to the world, wanting it to just be between you and him. So – you find an old, gold-leaf embossed volume from an antique store, hollow out the inside, and place a velvet box with a diamond ring and a letter that espouses your feelings for him. It’s Jaehee who sets it on his desk – you ask if she’d please do her this favor, just this once – and the rest of the day, you wait for him to get to it, and to… well. Call you back.

Or whatever he’ll end up doing.

It’s evening when you get your reply. There’s a knock at your door, an urgent, insistent rapping, and you open it, seeing Jumin panting and out of breath from just having run up four flights of stairs. Without a word, he embraces you – holding you close, closer than he’s ever held you before – and in the crook of your ear, he says a single word that makes your heart soar.

Yes.

You propose to 707 on the radio.

You and him, you love going for car rides. Top down, blazing fast scenes, seeing the countryside whirl around you – and leaving a roar of laughter behind, intermingled with the rumbling engine. It’s great! It’s a hoot! And the two of you always blast the radio, normally oscillating between your and his favorite stations on the way.

While your rides aren’t always predicable, you always go out for a Sunday drive, and that’s when you’ve asked his favorite DJ to read your proposal on the air.

You’re anxious, waiting for the arranged timeslot. It makes it harder to enjoy Seven’s company, because this awful queasiness is dominating your thoughts. What if he says no? What if he gets weird about it? What if – man, what if he doesn’t even notice it, being so focused on the road that the words slip over him like water?

You finger the box in your pocket and hope.

The interrupt in the music at exactly 4:42 PM causes your breath to catch, and at first, Seven doesn’t seem to notice it, only groaning about another commercial break. But then, the announcers voice catches his attention – that this is a special message for one Saeyoung Choi, from a partner who loves him very much.

Saeyoung laughs a bit, not believing it, and then looks over at you, who is smiling at him enigmatically. A strange expression on his face, he slows the car to a stop, pulling over at the side of the road.

And he listens, his face heating up with every word.

So, what do you say, Saeyoung? The announcer asks. Ready to get married?

He doesn’t respond at first, hands gripping the steering wheel tight – but then he looks at you, smiling through a glistening sheen of tears, and says yes.

Yes I will.

You propose to V by a fountain, the water rippling over your feet as you sit on the brim of the basin.

He sits beside you, and the scent of flowers fills the enterity of the park, coating everything in a thick, floral haze. It’s a lovely spring day, you’ve taken him on the prettiest, most pleasant date you can imagine and now, at the end of it, you sit with him, cooling your feet and staring at the coins glinting in the water. A million wishes lie there, you think to yourself, and you ask V what he wishes for the most in the world.

He laughs, saying there are a lot of things. He wish he’d handled the Rika situation differently. He wishes he’d been there to save Saeran. He wishes he had helped Saeyoung. Sometimes he wishes he’d never met Rika, but then he’d never have met you, would he?

…Perhaps it’d be best to say, he wishes the path to you hadn’t contained so much suffering.

You take a coin out of your pocket and flip it, letting it plop into the water. As circles ripple, you look at him, and say that you only have one wish.

“What’s that?” he asks, and you pull a ring out of your pocket.

“I wish you’d marry me.”

V cannot say anything for a moment, as overwhelmed as he is – but tentatively, like this is a dream that might disappear if he touches it, he reaches for the ring and says…

“I think I can grant that for you.”

You propose to Saeran by accident.

It’s during an argument. It’s hard to exactly pinpoint how it started, really, but it eventually morphed into you bickering about which of you would be better than the other at being married. I’d do the dishes! Saeran says, crossing his arms and letting out a noise of discontent. And do the vacuuming, and earn ALL the money! I’d be the greatest husband!

Well, yeah? you respond. I’d take the trash out EVERY DAY, and clean the stove, AND I WOULD BUY YOU FLOWERS EVERY WEEK.

Every week? Says Saeran. I’d buy them every day!

Every HOUR, you say, and Saeran is like – PROVE IT.

And you, being an easily riled up moron, get on one knee and say, “You know what? I will! GET MARRIED TO ME RIGHT NOW AND I’LL SHOW YOU THAT I WIN AT MARRIAGE.”

“FINE, I WILL,” Saeran says, and the both of you stare at each other, not really sure where to go from here.

In lieu of a ring, since you don’t really have one, you end up making him a band out of a dandelion you find growing nearby out of the sidewalk. “The puffball can be the diamond,” you say. “Until I can get you a better one.”

You propose to Vanderwood while you’re running for your life.

Neither of you meant for this to happen. Neither of you really understand how things came to this, but as you book it through an abandoned dockyard and hide in an alley, all you can figure is that this is Seven-oh-Seven’s fault. Did he have to tease the agency?! Did he have to pull one last prank on them before trying to disband them for good?

UGH.

As armed mafia goons comb the area looking for you, you peek around the corner, and then – staring dead-straight at Vanderwood – say, “If we get out of this, I am marrying the shit out of you.”

Vanderwood clears their throat, cocks their pistol, and says that’s some pretty good motivation for staying alive right there.

After a sneaking sequence straight out of a Metal Gear Solid game, you manage to find a car, hot-wire it, and book it out of there as gunfire sounds behind you. Vanderwood is driving, you’re in the passenger seat, and as you wipe the sweat from your forehead, you ask, So, what do you like better? Spring weddings? Autumn ones?

“Anything but summer,” Vanderwood replies, still shaking a little bit from your narrow escape. “I hate the heat.”

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