#weird how it’s the most mundane experiences that stick with you.

[spacelesscowboy]

obviously not an original thought but it still strikes me out of nowhere sometimes. being dead is a forever thing. youre alive and then youre not. you existed for a brief moment in time and the world will live on. but you won’t. how strange.

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to the most, then scroll for their corresponding message about what your soul tribe will love about you.

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Pile One

The traits that your soul tribe will love the most about you, are the aspects of yourself that people may have told you were "too big". You could be reduced to someone who's "very dramatic" or overly sensitive, but I'm seeing that in the eyes of your soul tribe, you're very adorable and witty. Emotionally, they're going to make sure that you're taken seriously, by being there for you when you need comfort and support for the things that you worry or are upset about, while still offering balance in this relationship by not infantilizing you. What's really sticking out to me is that that they're not going to be annoyed by you being happy. I know that sounds weird, but to break this down a bit, you could generally be someone who has a lot to offer, enchantingly attractive, but with no control over who it is that you're attracting. You could have experienced a lot of people that may have tried to dim your light by being pestered by your humanely traits like being excited for something, being social and knowing how to communicate, getting compliments on your appearance and talents, and maybe even just breathing (I'm not kidding, people are weird like that) but your soul tribe will be the backbone in the kind of support that you need around you, they're not going to be intimidated or jealous by your vibrant personality and the attention that you get in life, they're going to celebrate you and genuinely treat you like you're someone they want to be around. They'll always be there to help you win and applaud you for what you achieve, but they'll also love you enough to hold you accountable for things or to assist in unpacking conflicts whether it be external or internally. It will feel like a real family, where this isn't any anxiety, and that interacting with each other is like this flow of peaceful and orderly harmony. You won't have to hide from them at all.

Pile Two

Your soul tribe will tremendously appreciate your fierceness. I'm not talking about loving your grit, assertiveness, and darkness when it benefits them, they will love you whole as you are because the key theme in the foundation and lesson of your relationship is duplexity. You have the gift of helping people find their way back out of rock bottom both physically and mentally. Your insight is something fresh and unique that they don't get from anyone else, and it's usually always the missing piece that helps shift their entire mood and focus in an ironically positive way, no matter how how screwed up things may look for them. They love how you have their back and in return you'll finally have people who will reciprocate that instead of getting scared and ditching you when things are rough or when they can't gain anything from your hurdles. They'll love your humor and how you inspire them to have more confidence to not let people walk over them. Interchangeably, you use your imperfections to elevate each other in a way that's both equal. Another interesting trait about what the good qualities of you and your soul tribe, is how you don't keep each other stuck, even if you guys reach a disagreement, you will always find a healthy and peaceful resolution that will move you guys forward and stronger as a team.

Pile Three

What your soul tribe will love about you are the traits about yourself that you may feel are not identifiable. You could feel like because of your lack of experience in life that you have a dull personality, but your soul tribe will see you as someone with so much depth and will happily and effortlessly uncover your layers and help you discover your inner mogul. Almost every outing that you guys have will be out of the ordinary, or you will find yourself to be not as mundane as you thought. You could notice how you tense you've been in your day to day activities once you start hanging out with your soul tribe. You're going to feel more relaxed and no longer have this idea that you have to give in to the pressure that people put on to you. You could have had a lot of obsessions with perfectionism, and they want to release you from that. You could have had this attachment to restricting yourself because you feel that it's more likeable or acceptable to be this way in fear of being judged for letting loose, but your soul tribe is going to love what they see on the other side of when you finally just let go and allow yourself to be complex as you are instead of just one way.

[zahroreadsthings]

On the way... 2!

Question: Who will you be sitting next to?

Response: Sol and Dessa my friends Sol and Dessa.

Sol and Dessa are the people you've gotten closest to (you're not counting how close your fist got to anyone's face) so it makes sense to make a beeline for them.

Dessa is holding her jacket over her head against the light rain. Sol lets it fall on him. They're talking about the weather in the most mundane way weather witches can, which is to say they're debating the merits of different methods of dealing with rain.

You wiggle your fingers to get their attention. 'Morning.'

Dessa wiggles her fingers back. Sol starts to direct his argument at you, then stops himself. 'Hi.'

'So, I'll be honest, I forgot to check what's happening today. Do you two...?'

They glance at each other uncertainly. 'We don't know,' Sol says finally, 'We're heading north east, we're supposed to look at some kind of puzzle, and we'll likely be gone for most of the day.'

Dessa shrugs. 'Surely they'll tell us something on the way. The others who don't do weather... are here for a day out or something, I don't know. Maybe they know more than us.'

You don't want to ask strangers about it.

'Oh, and I was talking to my mentor last night. About whether she has any geography notes. She used to travel around a lot, at least according to her old friend. I could see if there's anything new for you, Dessa.'

She grins. 'I'm leaving tomorrow but I would love to see if there's anything new! Beats experimenting on my own.'

As you load up in the wagon you make a mental list of all of the information Dessa's after, then pull out your notebook to have her write in it after it becomes too technical.

When she returns it she turns to talk to Sol about the rain again, and you begin to suspect... no, it's definitely happening... you've made the fatal error of making yourself a third wheel. You occupy yourself by pretending to read your notes.

You're saved when Myrna claps her hands to get everyone's attention. A hush falls over your little group.

'For those who weren't paying attention! There's a... problem area not far from here,' she says. 'It's been acting strange for the past few decades. Sudden changes in weather that don't occur anywhere else, very local wild winds, unpredictable rain, and the like. There's no evidence of anyone doing work there. We've been puzzling this out for years and would appreciate fresh eyes on the situation. If you're not a weather witch... I hope you enjoy your day out.' She shrugs.

You assume you'll need to have a talk to Deema about this.

Roz, who you recognise as the nomadic road witch, claps.

She leans over to you, apparently unable to hold in her excitement, and whispers, 'This place is weird for road witches too. It's on everyone's bucket list.'

'How so?' you whisper back.

'I don't know! That's why it's so exciting.'

The rest of the ride has you jostled on the rough roads. Dessa and Sol occasionally pull you into their conversation but mostly keep to themselves. Reginald is uncharacteristically calm. Roz taps a tune on her knee, but can't keep a tune to save her life.

'Everybody out,' Myrna says unceremoniously when the wagon stops. The sun's almost reached its zenith.

You step on land that's dotted with oddly shaped stones and sparse grass. It looks weird, but you're not sure if it actually *is weird or if you were expecting it to be.

[inscrutable-shadow]

Whumptober 2023 Day 2 - Take Two and Call Me in the Morning

@whumptober-archive

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don’t care about you.”

contains: swearing and a generally pissed-off pseudo-supervillain

also available on ao3!

“Are we done here?” I feel like shit. I don’t really want to sit here being poked and prodded for God knows how long.

“Doctor Discontent,” or Doc Disco as he’s more commonly called around here, spins around in the office chair. “Absolutely not. Hellraiser herself comes into my office complaining of a mysterious malady, and you expect me to send her home with two pills and a glass of water?”

I sigh. “Are you even a real doctor? I just wanted cold medicine or someshit.”

“Have you ever gotten a cold before?” I notice how he doesn’t answer whether or not he’s a real doctor.

“You mean… since the Nova? No. You said I’m too hot for it.” My natural body temperature’s pretty high now, usually somewhere around a hundred and six. Doc Disco says it’s a miracle my brain doesn’t fry, but it’s also a “miracle” that I can melt steel with my breath, so I don’t put a lot of stock in that.

He smiles mischievously and I recoil a bit, feeling like an experiment. “So, when you present with a cough and malaise, what I would usually consider a mundane rhinovirus and treat with rest, I’m duty-bound to investigate. Let’s start with your temperature, why don’t we? Won’t hurt a bit.”

Whether or not the thermometer’ll hurt is the least of my worries, but I don’t really have a choice if I want anything for this. I can’t keep coughing all the time, I haven’t been able to control the temperature at all and I’ve already melted a full set of tableware. I already spend most of my time on edge trying to make sure I don’t burn everything around me. I can’t fucking function like this. Plus, I’m tired and I can’t even smoke.

Doc puts the metal end of the thermometer in my mouth and I just try to concentrate on not coughing at it. I think he can tell I’m holding my breath. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he lets out a low whistle. “You haven’t been experiencing any muscle cramps or nausea by any chance?” I would shake my head no, but it makes my headache worse. “Pupillary response is normal, at least. Your internal temperature is one fourteen point six. Even for you, I’d consider that hyperpyrexia. And yet, you seem to be, well, not no worse for wear, but not seizing on my floor, at least.”

I blink at him. “And… that’s a good thing, right? That I’m not… seizing? Are you gonna help me or not?” I don’t really enjoy hearing that I should be dying.

“Of course I’ll help, but I need to identify the problem first.” He pulls one of those long cotton swabs out of a drawer and puts new gloves on. “We’ll do some cultures and I’ll put you on an antipyretic. How’s that sound?”

Uh, yeah, no. “If you stick that thing down my throat, I’m gonna cough on you.” I’m basically an oven right now: at best, it’ll blister, and at worst, I’ll set him on fire. Falcon’ll kill me if “Doctor Discontent” isn’t ready to fight “Fist of Justice” (yeah, I know) tomorrow night. Besides, as much as he weirds me out, he doesn’t really deserve a second-degree burn.

Doc frowns. “Ah. Well, could you try to hold it back?”

“Whatever happened to ‘germs can’t live in my body because it’s too hot’? It’s not like the Nova did anything to them. What’s the point in cultures?” I’m trying really hard not to cough anyway. It’s not going well.

He wags a finger. “Not true, actually. Several types of beneficial bacteria are perfectly comfortable in your usual body temperature range. Otherwise, we would have had to work out an alternate solution for your digestive health. It’s entirely possible that an extremophile version of a common rhinovirus or streptococci may have taken up residence in your mucosa! It’d be a delight to study it.” I hate it when he talks like that. “Here, why don’t you have a dose of core suppressant and we’ll try after that?”

Not gonna work. “I’ve been chugging the shit like water. Won’t bring my temp down even a little.” Most of the suppressant in the building probably goes to me for one reason or another. Perks of being Hellraiser, I guess.

Doc’s brow furrows again. “I think I’ve talked to you about the consequences of overconsumption. It’s possible you provided an opening for this to happen. If you need more than sixteen ounces in four hours, you need to report for a discharge or come see me, understand?”

“Whatever, doc. Let’s just get this over with.” Fuck me. I just want to go to bed. If Doc ever finds out how much suppressant I use, he’s gonna flip his shit.

I take a deep breath and open my mouth for the swab. Maybe if I just stay extra relaxed, I won’t cough. Maybe. I’ve never really had a reason to cultivate a poor gag reflex. My tongue has other uses, if you get what I mean. My throat tightens around the scratchiness of the cotton and it takes everything I have not to breathe in or out. Every second is hell, but eventually, the swab is pulled out. Doc has just enough time to get out of the blast radius before the explosion comes.

The choking, hacking coughs I’m about used to at this point. I didn’t mean to start super-heating anything else, though. I’m too busy worrying about trying to breathe again to care that jets of plasma aren’t just coming from my nose, but also circling my chest and legs just like they would if I were performing. I distantly hear “Fen, please!” (he never calls me that, nobody does except Portent, it’s always just ‘Hellraiser’) before, moments later, I’m drenched in fire extinguisher foam.

I wipe the soapy stuff out of my eyes. “Get what you wanted?”

“Uh, yes. I’ll… run these. That’s… I can see why you were concerned.”

Nobody in this place ever fucking listens to me. “Yeah. Hope I didn’t get you with any of that. Tried to control it, but you know how it is.”

Doc sets the fire extinguisher down on his desk and puts a hand on his hip. “No, I’m just fine. Can’t say the same for my examination bench.” Oof. Yeah, that shit’s melted. It’s gonna have my assprint in it forever now. Not even my clothes got spared, even though they’re special heat resistant fabric designed to withstand me. I actually like this hoodie, and now it’s full of holes. Shouldn’t have expected so much out of it, I guess. These aren’t my performance wear so they’re not rated for temperatures hot enough to warp steel.

“Fuck me. Guess that’s my collateral budget.”

Doc frowns and rummages in a cabinet for a minute before handing me a pill bottle. “Why don’t you take this cough suppressant while I figure out if it’s viral or bacterial? Prevent any more… incidents.” Fucking finally.

taglist: @athenswrites

[scienceoftheidiot]

▼and ♒ for Royai (so both of them, hehe :33)

▼ - childhood headcanon

Roy : the combo between losing his parents early and being immediately surrounded by a weird family of diverse women from everywhere has resulted in him having no prejudice whatsoever and being used to be surrounded by people/catered to/taking care of others. He takes this very seriously now as a superior officer, both ways : he protects his subordinates at all costs, but he has absolutely no problem with asking them to do things for him, even the most mundane. He's used to be taken care of and will not pass on the opportunity. He's the boss, after all. I think Chris' girls might have spoiled him a little too much, the little brat.

Riza : I think her mom died when she was very young, so at first Berthold must have had someone who came to take care of the house and her. But I don't think she has many memories of it (in the AU I'm currently writing she was basically raised by the Hawkeye estate groundskeeper's wife along with their son)(who is NOT Roy). She had to have responsibilities early, like cooking (see after) and various chores, but I don't think Berthold let her do so all by herself. It's also mentionned in the manga that Riza had a good education so part of her childhood must have been spent away from home, either during the day only or she went to boarding school (probably once she reached higher levels like high school). So when Roy spends time learning with Berthold, she's probably away during the week at the very least. So yeah, in my head they might not have actually lived 24/7 together back then.

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

Roy : absolutely useless at cooking, no matter how hard Chris has tried to teach him when he was young, that never worked. Like it's not he doesn't have interest, but... Yeah. Doesn't stick. Also wherever he's been there's always someone else cooking for him so why bother? (He's great at other chores though. Just not a cook.) Chris or his sisters, Riza, and just. The army. This guy haunts the mess hall at any hour of the day, and doesn't mind the food there (he's mostly interested in the coffee. Which is bad. But he's not drinking it for the taste). Free, warm food. He's been to war, had to eat awful rations that were probably full of sand, so really anything without sand and warm enough will do. Occasionally forgets to eat, also. Especially when concerned about something. As fancy as he is in his clothes, and as much as he would treat his friends/girlfriends (*cough* Riza *cough*) with great food, he's content with just. Food. He's probably an oddity as he climbs ranks and he ends up the highest ranked officer still eating in the middle of foot soldiers there regularly, but he doesn't even notice and the others get used to it.

Riza : food is mostly a functional thing, but she cooks decently enough. Better than what's served at the mess, but weirdly she eats there pretty often nonetheless 🤔 She had to learn early, and to get by with few ingredients, so she's especially good at cooking hearty meals from scratch. She did experiment on her father and Roy when he lived at her place, but he's not really a good indicator because even then he would just eat anything without batting an eye. She tries to eat healthy, and pesters others (Roy) to do so. Or to just eat at all. She WILL indulge in good chocolate though, but that is a secret she will tell no one (but she finds a mysterious box of fancy chocolate in her desk drawers on occasion. Often after the Colonel has done something stupid. There is absolutely no correlation, there)

Thank you so much for asking ! Lol I wrote a lot there 🤣 that was fun !

Headcanon asks

[janelley-fish]

Im starting a fic 😬 I’ve never done anything like this so please be gentle. Writers, I would love any tips and feedback. Please please please. The first 2 chapters are short; but chapters will get longer as I become more comfortable. Be kind please. I’m not a writer, but this story has been in my heart and I just want to share it in hopes that at least one person enjoys it. 💜

Story warnings: angst, very slow burn (mostly Eddie has feelings), friends to lovers, eventual smut, eventual violence and gore, language, some fluff eventually. Think that’s it but overall 18+ so get outta here babies

Unspoken

-Eddie!andoriginalcharacterreader.-

Eddie was your person, in that stereotype kind of way that everyone talks about. You were pretty sure that even if you and Eddie never met in this life, never knew each other, that your soul would search for him, ache for him. You loved him, more than any person could love someone else. More than anyone should. Beyond the meaning of the word, you loved Eddie. And it took one of the most terrible things to happen to make you realize it.

Part 1

Dee, come on. How long does it take to put on lip gloss?” Eddie was standing in the doorway of your bedroom with this arms crossed, leaned against the frame. Honestly, he was being dramatic. He had already made a point of looking at his empty wrist, counting down the minutes out loud until the time you had agreed to leave. He blew his bangs from his eyes and gave you a his most condescending smile, which was still so beautiful. His brows raised high as you scoffed at him.

“It’s called lip stick, and would you calm down? I’m almost done.” You paused to turn around and glare at him. “And if you make one more comment I’m going to make sure you’re wearing some too.” You turned back around to finish with a playful smile and a wink in his direction. Eddie sighed dramatically and walked over to your bed, slumping down into it with a loud huff. You didn’t notice, but his eyes watched your every move as you finished applying your lipstick, his mind wondering what it would be like if you used your painted lips on him, which he was sure was not what you meant, but it was nice to daydream for just a second.

“What are you smirking about?” You had finished your make up and were walking across the room to grab your bag and pull your boots on. Eddie wasn’t aware that he had been smiling to himself at the thought of your lips on his. His cheeks burned red for a moment before he quickly recovered, clearing his throat loudly.

“Just the fact that you’re getting all dolled up for the guys. You know Gareth is going to be flirting with you the whole time, right?” Eddie quirked one brow at you as he stood from your bed, walking over to you so he could lace your boots up. It was probably a weird thing for friends to do, but this kind of stuff was just normal with Eddie. Mundane things that he made special.

He motioned for you to rest your foot on his knee as he bent down. You decided to kick him in the shin instead and he hissed at the sudden contact.

“Jesus Dee; what the hell was that for!?” He scowled at you, but still moved his hands away from rubbing at his black denim covered leg soothingly to tie up your laces.

“Don’t make jokes, Edward Munson, you’re the one who begged me to come to band practice. Claimed you needed my ‘expertise in words’ remember?” The band had been experimenting with new music and Eddie wanted your opinion on his lyrics. He had practically begged on his knees for you to come listen. You almost smacked him for it, because it reminded you of the time he snuck a peak of your journal when you had accidentally left it on your bed.

September 10th, 1981

You and Eddie were heading to meet Steve and Robin to check out the new arcade, but you had demanded that Eddie drive you home first so you could change into shorts, the cool morning air had disappeared and the afternoon had turned hot and sticky. Begrudgingly he drove you home but insisted he come in, because however short you would be, he would not wait in his van. While you rushed to your dresser, you hadn’t noticed the notebook flipped open on top of your smooth purple comforter, and Eddie took it upon himself to snoop. He was looking for something juicy. Maybe embarrassing words about a crush, secretly hoping it was him, but instead found something unexpected and utterly breathtaking. He knew you were into books and poetry, but never knew you wrote your own. And you had planned to keep it that way. Your words were vulnerable, but that’s not what scared you. You couldn’t stand the thought that you could be terrible at something you loved to do so much. It was too terrifying to possibly face a reality where the things you wrote flat out sucked. So you planned to keep all of that part of yourself locked away until someone worth it had discovered that part of you. You weren’t expecting it to be so soon, and you definitely weren’t expecting it to be Eddie fucking Munson.

He was completely lost in your words. Drowning in the beauty of the deep dive into your mind that no one had seen before. The details in the way you explained normal, every day feelings. The way your words made the white paper and black ink ignite into an array of colors in Eddie’s mind as he continued reading. It was like your words had opened an entirely new universe. You stood there frozen; fuming, and he hadn’t noticed. It took you stomping over to him with your hands balled into fists, snatching your notebook from his hands, and shoving him onto the bed before he came back to earth. He saw the heat in your face, but didn’t take it as the anger it was until your eyes burned holes into his and tears started streaming down your cheeks.

“Dee, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting it to be—I just thought… but it’s beautiful and, wow I-“

“Stop.” You were shaking with embarrassment and anger, maybe slightly at the compliment he gave but you wouldn’t admit that. He could see how much it upset you, he could sense that he went too far. He took your hand in his and stood up, but crouched his head down so he was eye level with you.

“I’m so sorry. Truly. I fucked up and crossed a line. It’ll never happen again.” He blurted the words out, and you could see the look in his eyes. He was meant it.

You stood there holding his hand in one of yours while the other clung your journal to your chest. You let out a sigh and looked up to the ceiling.

“Just promise me you won’t tell anyone. And please, for the love of all that is holy, DO NOT bring this up again or so help me Munson I will drive that precious van of yours straight into Lovers Lake without a second thought.” Eddie winced but let out a small huff of a laugh at the way you joked, relieved at the small sign that you didn’t hate him. He let your hand go and made a dramatic show of drawing a very crooked plus sign over his chest.

“Cross my heart. I would never. And even if I would, that threat would stop me. I could never let anything happen to my girl. We’ve been through too much together.” You let out a chuckle at the thought of him referring to his van as his girl, knowing full well his girl was that guitar hanging so neatly on his bedroom wall. He slumped back down into your bed while you rushed to the bathroom to change, desperate to read more of your words but not wanting to ever risk hurting you again. So he mentally reminded himself of his promise to never bring it up.

February 16, 1983

Until 3 days ago when he begged you to come with him to practice to listen to his new song, babbling about how there was no one better at words than you and how he needed your expert opinion. He was about to keep going when he realized his mistake and snapped his mouth shut, giving you a pleading look that was begging for forgiveness the moment the words slipped out. If it hadn’t been for his big beautiful chocolate eyes, you would have kept on your promise. But you knew he didn’t mean it, and you actually really liked tagging along for practice, so you agreed.

Eddie smirked at your words while he finished lacing your boots up.

“Oh please, sweetheart. I know you just have a thing for rockstars.” He stood up straight and pretended to play his guitar while whipping his long curls around and winking at you. You in turn pretended to fan yourself at his show, and both of you burst into giggles and you stepped out of the room. One of your favorite things about your friendship with Eddie is that it always came natural, every part of it. Nothing was ever weird for you, even after the journal incident, it was just so easy being his friend. Joking and teasing, but also sharing in the dark moments, like when Jason beat the shit out of Eddie just for looking at him wrong, and Eddie got into his feelings too deep about being an outcast. Or when you found your now ex-boyfriend Scott making out with a cheerleader in the woods, and Eddie let you camp at his trailer and made you nachos while you cried into his chest. It was just unspoken, how much you cared for each other. Best friends didn’t cover it, it was more than that.

To Eddie it was much, much more than that.

End of chapter 1

*thanks for reading! Chapter 2 will be up soon.😉

[sleepylindyzzz]

Happy Birthday to the amazing @weebitmuddled

Everyone shower them with love!

Alden, today is all about celebrating the amazing person you are, and I couldn't be more excited to share thirty things I absolutely adore about you:

Your love of nature and plants is absolute goals. And you love to share it with others! I’ll never forget our first hike together, when you taught me sassafras buy sticking a leaf in your mouth and starting to chew the stem.

You always take the time to make me feel safe, valued, respected, and loved.

You have the absolute dorkiest humor sometimes, but it never fails to make me laugh (even if I cringe a lil first).

We make such a good team. Even back when we were just coworkers, I always knew I could count on you. And now, I love working together on projects with you.

You are such a skilled artist. Like holy shit, it’s all so good. I’m still blown away by the masterpiece you whipped up in a hour on our paint night. It makes me so happy to see how much you’ve been creating.

You always have the cutest haircuts and hair colors. I love your soft waves when you grow it out, but you’re also so effin cute with a shaved head. And you do it all yourself!

Your acceptance of other’s differences. You’re so open minded and make everyone feel seen.

You’re such a caring and loving person, to everyone.

You see the world with an artist’s eye, noticing all those details most people overlook.

By extension, you have this wonderful ability to see the beauty and wonder in the little, everyday things. And you truly appreciate those things.

Your skill as a fiber artist. You make the most complicated patterns look easy, and you can even create your own beautiful patterns and pieces from scratch!

We can do the most mundane things together, and I will still have a blast. Just because I’m with you.

Your hugs are just the best. I melt in your arms.

You always are so thoughtful and considerate of others. You have such a big heart. For instance, you always make sure you have money to give unhoused people when you see them.

Your sense of adventure. You climbed Angel’s Landing. In the DARK. In knockoff converse shoes! You absolute nutcase.

Your love for your family, your wife, and all of your many loved ones (seriously you are so so so loved).

Your eyes always light up with warmth and love, especially when you’re discussing something or someone you love.

Your values and the way you see the world. I feel that I have found a kindred spirit.

You are so brain-meltingly HOT.

Your good morning texts, your good night voice messages, and every moment I spend with you (or thinking about you!) in between.

Your loyalty to those you care about. You have so much heart.

Your silliness. I can get so goofy with you. WHEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Your travel and how much you’ve seen of the world, and how those experiences have expanded your worldview and helped you grow as a person.

Your love for your pets, and their love for you.

You have such a wonderful taste in music. I love the mix you made me, and I listen to it all the time still!

You are so wonderfully weird. Just the best kind of weird.

Your unrelenting positivity and optimism. I’ll never forget the hike where your shoe broke and you had to hike three miles without proper footwear. And you didn’t complain a single time.

Your infectious laughter makes me smile every time I hear it.

You have changed my life and my worldview for the better. I am a better person because of you, and my life is better because you are in it. You have better taught me how to love.

I easily see you in my future, and I am so excited for every trip we till take, obstacle we will navigate, and milestone we will celebrate. Together.

I love you.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Light a bonfire to guide a lost soul home to the wind and stars

The tranquil waters of Tangwei are mesmerizing to gaze at. And funny enough, once again we’ve been hanging around a bonfire at the beach. I mean, it’s the ideal weather for this kind of thing, so why not? It won’t be long before it starts to get dark earlier, which is hard to believe. There’s a bit of a chill in the air now and some of the leaves are starting to turn.

Raiden and Kayo invited me, Daisy Jane, and Almie to spend a short vacation up here since it’s the perfect season for going on boat rides at the river. So we rented a cabin like they suggested and managed to find a place that’s somewhat quiet with a lovely view of the water.

Along with enjoying the sights and waters of Tangwei, we had another reason to visit. This weekend also happened to be Maki’s official induction into the Skylight Dusk Detective Agency. Unexpected, though Raiden said not entirely because of Kayo.

The detective agency, as Raiden and Kayo have said, are a lively bunch. There’s Kiyowara, who’s all serious and no nonsense. And there’s everyone else, who’s on all different levels of chaotic and unhinged. Then again, they’re all geniuses with unusual powers who have been through shit, so they get a free pass for being weird and eccentric and hard to understand.

Now that Maki’s in the group, she and Kayo are trying to get Kamo and maybe even Ayame to join too. Even though the main purpose of the detective agency was for people with unusual abilities to work together, those kinds of people are few and far between, which was why they accepted Kayo and Maki even though they don’t fall into that category. However, Kayo’s a specialized shinobi who’s a part of Galen, and Maki’s a skilled sorcerer from a once prominent clan.

There’s no verdict on whether Kamo’s joining, mainly because he’s not as well acquainted with the agency. However, being a sorcerer hailing from the same clan as Maki, his experience and expertise would make him a vital asset to the team. And although Ayame doesn’t possess any special abilities despite being born in the same clan, she’s said to be good at working with people, especially since she basically raised Kamo and his peers - meaning, she can deal with the craziness that goes on and do damage control when needed.

And what fitting way to celebrate than hanging out at the river? Nothing too extravagant, just a nice, chill get-together with friends. Things have been a little slow for the agency, so now’s the perfect time to plan something like this. And besides, I don’t think you need to plan out something elaborate just to hang out. Sometimes it’s the low key and quiet moments that really stick with you.

Get togethers shouldn’t be a competition to show off how much you can impress others by being a good host or planning to do as many things as possible. Just do what makes everyone happy, even if it means not doing much at all.

Although I say that it’s been pretty chill, that’s not to say that stuff didn’t happen. By that, I mean that tonight’s bonfire was special for because it had something to do with the agency, something that had been hanging over their heads for a couple years that they can finally put to rest now.

Sometimes it’s fun being a spectator, to see things that you won’t normally get to see because to most, it’s mundane, everyday stuff. It may not be quite the same as a typical case, but it was still interesting to see the agency in action. Plus, part of this trip was to learn a little more about the agency, so I’d say I got quite a lot out of it - and so did Kayo and Maki.

Kayo was playing tour guide while we were boating along the river when Sayo received a text from Akinori about an emergency meeting. What I didn’t expect was that Akinori wanted me, Raiden, Daisy Jane, and Almie to join the meeting too. His explanation was that it’s not a private matter and that they needed some outside help too. That explains why Kaiji, Akara, and Elle were there too.

Basically, it had something to do with someone who went missing years ago. That person, Maia, had powers similar to Amane where she could transform into a creature, which was a dragon in her case. According to Sayo, she sought the agency for protection and would’ve become a member if she hadn’t fled. This happened not too long before Amane and Ari joined the group as they were affected by what happened to Maia that they did not want to make the same mistakes later on.

Like Amane, Maia was the target of a secret organization due to her unique abilities. Kiyowara and Akara said they made the grave mistake of underestimating exactly how much danger Maia was in. Going by how the agency - and Tangwei as a whole - operates, they’re used to this kind of thing.

However, the same can’t be said for someone like Maia who’s not used to dealing with that kind of thing. And they don’t blame her - Amane, they said, almost fled too because he also thought that was the safer option as he didn’t want to put the city in unnecessary danger because of him.

After a few run-ins too many with the organization hunting her down, Maia thought it would be better if she left the city and deal with the situation herself. Akara, Sakura, and the agency tried to get her to stay, but they couldn’t convince her, nor there were any better options.

Using whatever money she saved up, the furthest Maia was able to travel to was Chilopoda, which, according to Akinori, is in the middle of nowhere. Kun planned her escape so no one could trace her whereabouts or catch her off guard. Even though the escape route was convoluted - that was how they described it - she managed to leave the city without running into any trouble.

Looking back, the agency felt that things went too smoothly, though I don’t think that really had to do with anything. However, the problems that Maia would face later on had nothing to do with the organization that was harassing her. In fact, they apparently lost interest a couple months later - or, most likely, they didn’t want to admit that they couldn’t find her. So that’s where the story should’ve ended, right?

From here, things get cloudy and unclear. Although we’ve been able to piece a general idea of what happened, there’s still a lot that we don’t know - and we probably never will. All we know for certain was that Chilopoda was descending into chaos. Kiyowara had been sporadically keeping tabs on Maia and knew something was wrong when she didn’t respond right away.

Later, Akara found out that the conflict in Chilopoda was growing from bad to worse. She and Kiyowara had planned to get her, only to find out that the city was on lockdown. War later broke out and communication was cut off entirely. Months later, they received a vague message from Maia warning them not to come anywhere near Chilopoda. And that was the last time they ever heard from her.

For years, Maia’s disappearance has haunted the agency. As time went on, it looked more and more likely that she was dead, especially as Chilopoda was basically decimated by the war. There had been hope that Maia evacuated with most of the city to Apolline, where it was supposed to be safe. But all hopes were dashed when the conflict inevitably reached there too.

Then a couple days ago, Akinori found the missing piece that allowed him to put together what happened to Maia. Someone sent him an envelope full of messages and classified documents between her and an esper she befriended in Chilopoda. The sender was the esper’s brother, who was going through his sister’s belongings when he found a hard drive hidden away.

From their messages, we were able to begin to piece together what happened during that time, as well as the fates of Maia and Winn. Just as the others speculated, Maia did evacuate to Apolline. Based on the messages between her and Winn, they managed to avoid the worst of the destruction in Chilopoda. However, it seemed like their luck ran out in Apolline.

After contacting Winn’s brother, Akinori was able to figure out what happened after Apolline. At least, a general idea. Maia and Winn joined an anti-war group and had several run-ins with the law. Going through the red tape isn’t easy, but Akinori, Kiyowara, and Akara have their ways. The way Apolline dealt with the protests is still a sensitive subject since the authorities covered up a lot of things.

That explains a lot, like why Maia’s message was delayed and no one could get a straight answer. Akinori figured that Maia and Winn tried to take matters into their own hands. And since they were outsiders, that made the authorities see them as a threat.

Raiden felt that the timing of Winn’s brother finding her laptop and the former Apolline officer who still holds a grudge against those who opposed him showing up was no coincidence. The final piece for Akinori was the ribbon he used for the tag on his duffel bag, which happened to be the same exact one that Maia wore in her hair. Just as she suspected, the officer tried to intercept Winn’s brother and Akinori after hearing about the hard drive.

Just as Akinori predicted, the officer was all talk and no spine. As soon as Kiyowara pressed him, he folded. He confessed to harassing Maia and Winn, and when they refused to back down, he got more aggressive. Finally, he got his subordinates to gang up and imprison the so-called rebels. For weeks, they interrogated and tortured them until they were too weak to fight back and threw them out.

Because of the chaos of the war, people were dying left and right, most of them without any form of identification. After digging through the records, Akinori was able to identify Maia and Winn as the two unidentified young women found dead in an alley after a deadly frost that killed a lot of people who were forced to live on the streets.

And that’s the whole story. Kind of a lot to take in. And going by what Akara says, it’s only just the beginning. Though the war in Chilopoda ended in a stalemate, there’s still a lot of political unrest over there, especially with Apolline trying to take advantage of the chaos for their own benefit. Now with evidence from Maia and Winn, Apolline’s Brigade has a lot to answer to.

As for what happens next, Akara says that it’s unfortunately out of the agency’s hands. Sayo and Akinori weren’t happy to hear that, but it can’t be helped. After all, it’s not in their jurisdiction, and they view outsiders as a threat. There’s no point in stirring up even more trouble. But they managed to open something up, and that’s what counts. If it weren’t for Maia and Winn, who knows how long the Brigade plans to keep up with their act of playing ignorant?

Although I wish things could’ve turned out better for Maia and Winn, I’m glad that we finally have some closure for them, and that their deaths won’t be in vain. The agency, especially Kiyowara, Akinori, and Sayo have a lot of regrets for not being able to help Maia. Sayo said she and Amane would’ve been good friends since they had similar personalities and endured similar circumstances. She also said that Kun was haunted by Maia’s disappearance and that later influenced how he approached Amane, Ari, and Lucy when they were thrown into conflict and sought the agency’s protection.

Elle kinda took it hard at first since she, aside from the agency, was closest to Maia and took it pretty hard when she left. What gets to her the most was that Maia kept putting herself down as a coward, someone who flees when there’s conflict. I mean, it’s understandable - if I were in her position, not only I’d want to avoid it whenever possible, but also not end up unintentionally dragging other people into it as well. Overall, it sounds like it was a complicated situation where even if you do the “right” thing, another problem will pop up, and it just keeps piling on. There’s just no winning with these kinds of situations as even a good outcome won’t mean everything worked out.

However, for someone who claimed to be a coward, the kind of person who’s not worth protecting, Maia really stuck her neck out to confront those Apolline guards. There were a lot of protestors, but she and Winn were, by far, the most vocal. Maybe it’s because they both have special powers that they were seen as even more of a threat than just their status as outsiders. According to Tai, Maia was not as passive as she made herself out to be and won’t hesitate to step into harm’s way at the cost of her own safety. She was also incredibly stubborn, the kind to stick to her principles. In other words, she sounded like the sacrificial type.

Like Akara said, there’s still a lot to uncover about the Chilopoda and Apolline conflict as well as Maia and Winn’s final months. Getting closure is more than finding out what happened in the end, it’s also about filling in the gaps in between and using that information to pick up where the story abruptly cut off. They obviously have regrets for how things turned out, and maybe that’ll never go away. But at least they can do something about it, and who knows what comes out of it?

Raiden was right about the agency’s tenacity and their strong sense of justice. There’s a reason why Tangwei looks up to them. They, along with Galen, are what holds this city together. A lot of their members come from different backgrounds, with the one common thread bringing them together being their reason for living.

A lot of these people - at least the agency as a whole - were at their lowest before coming together. They had been exploited for their powers, leading them to hate themselves and feeling like the world was better off without them. It was people like Akara, Sakura, and Kiyowara who gave back their will to live, to live life on their own terms, and to be themselves. To use their powers the way they want to instead of being controlled by someone for their own personal gains. To learn how to accept themselves as they are and that they are allowed to exist, to be alive, because they’re living in this world.

And I wish more people in this world could be more like that. Maybe then, a lot of us wouldn’t be struggling a lot just to get through the day.

That night, we paid our respects to the fallen with a bonfire by the river. It was a bit chilly, so we had the area to ourselves. Elle took Maia’s ribbon that Akinori confiscated from the officer and tied it to a box that contained a couple mementos she had left behind. Winn’s brother had a small box with some of his sister’s stuff as well. Seeing that they were closest to the deceased, they had the honor of lighting the fires and scattering the ashes to the wind.

It was a quiet night, which was fitting for the occasion. Akara’s lived here her whole life and says the river and sea always marks the beginning or end of something. Seems kinda fitting since it’s the main entrance and exit to the city, as well as the place where many have fought various calamities over the centuries. In the end, when we die, we all go back to the same place, wherever that is.

I can’t say what will happen in the future, but knowing the Skyline Dusk Detective Agency, they won’t rest until justice is served and the fallen won’t be buried and forgotten.

May the waters of Tangwei and the flame from our fire guide Maia and Winn back home.

Read on AO3

[dancing-coyote]

7, 22, and 39 for the ask game!

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

I generally stick to 3rd Person/3rd Person Limited because that's the POC I have the most experience with. I've dabbled in 1st and 2nd Person POV a few times, but they're just not a "comfortable" for me.

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

I will never touch RPF in a million years. Shit's weird even for me, and I once wrote a scene involving someone being graphically murdered by being ripped in half.

I also won't bother writing anything set in the "real world" ("all human" AUs, "modern day" AUs, or just anything set in the mundane everyday.) I live in that world, why would I want to write about it? XD

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

He'd long since resigned himself to the fact of the humans' involvement in, well… every aspect of this mission of his. There was simply no avoiding it, apparently. But as Scarecrow loped along across the dusty scrubland, he found himself both appreciating the aid… and inexplicably saddened by it. (Though perhaps "inexplicably" was the wrong word. He should have been making this trip with Ben, but Ben was gone. Ben had betrayed him and Ben had saved him and now he was gone, and Scarecrow would never know what they could have done together.) (He pushed the grief aside.) (There would be time to process it later, after this was done and the humans were safe.)

[confinesofmy]

orchid, abelia, mahonia, sage, edelweiss, aloe vera, and taro? also hi, I'm glad you exist and I appreciate your presence in my life also also, since it's kinda relevant, your url always reminds me of the song Confines of a Memory by Dimrain47

hello my quiet but treasured mutual! i'm glad you exist and appreciate your presence in my life as well!

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

tame impala - why won't you make up your mind erol alkan rework

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

i've had small titanium hoops in my ears for give or take 2 years now. they're practically an extension of my body at this point.

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

local ecology. i love learning more about what makes this place tick. i like to do research and piece it all together and then talk with others about it and see what they know/think. my great-uncles are both really good for knowing more than the internet about local stuff and it's a major shared point of interest between me and them.

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

probably fiction. it's more immersive for me. it holds my attention for much longer. every type of art is, on some level, storytelling, but i'm not a visual thinker so picturing a piece of art or sculpture when i'm not looking directly at it is difficult. straightforward literal stories stick with me in a way that nothing else can.

edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you?

i got it from a misheard lyric in the song make me a bird by elektrik people. it was actually the word "contents" not confines, and it's contents of YOUR" not "my." and that's on audio processing issues! but i also just love the word confines, it's a really good word.

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

normalcy. stability. comfortable, day-to-day living where everything makes sense and nothing bad happens to me or the people i love. haven't had this in over a year now and i am very literally losing my mind.

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

i would try not to say much about what's happening in my life because it's all pretty wretched. i'd have to disclose the big ones because otherwise it would be weird later but after that i'd try to keep it down to little bits of meaningless positive stuff going on in my life. if i actually literally brought someone up to speed on what's happening i think i'd have a nervous breakdown.

[i-write-boop-spoops]

N Harmonia Fluff Alphabet

One anon asked for an N fluff alphabet and another asked for just any N content, so I hope this sates you both!

Not proof read so rip me

Enjoy!

A = Activities (what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time?)

Rather expectantly, N loves looking after Pokemon with you! Whether you’re playing with, feeding or tending to them, he really enjoys seeing you being so sweet and kind to cute little mons and giant scary monsters alike.

He also loves just snuggling up with you and playing with each other’s’ hair. He really cherishes that kind of gentle, intimate affection.

Other than that, he really enjoys doing mundane things with you, stuff like going grocery shopping, cleaning the house, gardening etc, even before you live together. There’s something very comforting about it.

Oh, and he loves dancing with you!

B = Beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?)

He admires your kindness obviously, but also your determination and resilience! He thinks you’re so strong, and in turn, it emboldens him too!

As for physical beauty? He loves your smile, even just a little quirk of your lips makes him so happy. It’s just so precious!

C = Comfort (how do they help their s/o when they feel down? what makes them feel better?)

N isn’t the best at this kind of stuff, but he definitely tries his best to offer you support. Usually he just sits with you and lets you vent, or cry into his shoulder, often bringing a cute pokemon with him to cheer you up. He also likes bringing you on walks, hoping it might clear your head.

His words of affirmation, though few, are quite powerful, so you know he means them.

When he’s sad, he’d like to be treated in a similar fashion, just quiet support and cute Pokemon

D = Dreams (how do they picture their future with their s/o and in general?)

N doesn’t really know how he wants his life to go, the only thing he’s certain of is that he wants to continue improving the relationships between humans and Pokemon, and that he wants to be with you for the rest of time.

E = Equal (are they the dominant one in the relationship or are they rather passive?)

Due to his lack of experience, he’s definitely more on the passive side, preferring to let you take the lead when it comes to dates and stuff. Though he has no problem asserting himself (gently) if he wants to do something else instead.

F = Fight (how quick are they to forgive their s/o? what are they like in an argument? who says sorry first?)

N hates fighting with you, absolutely despises it, so he tends to avoid it when he can. Inevitably, like in all relationships, you end up in a few spats. He’s never mean to you, but he does try talk over you and has a habit of just walking out instead of working out the issue right away. Really he just goes for a walk to calm him down, and he’s usually back in an hour or two, but you probably don’t solve your disagreement until the next day.

He finds it quite easy to admit fault and apologise, so you don’t have to weasel a ‘sorry’ out of him. And due to his earnest nature, you know he means it.

G = Gifts (what kind of things do they gift to their s/o? are they spontaneous or do they stick to special events like anniversaries?)

When N gives a gift, most of the time, he doesn’t even realise it. He just sees something he thinks you’d like and just gives it to you without a second thought. Usually it’s pretty flora or candy, occasionally it’s a plush. Sometimes you get gifts very often, sometimes it’s weeks, maybe months, between each present.

H = Heart Eyes (what are they like in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their love? do they brag about their s/o to others?)

N can be described as blissfully confused when in love. So soft and blushy and not totally sure what he’s feeling, but he sure does love it, and you. His Pokemon friends pick up on it immediately and root for the two of you.

Unintentionally brags. He just thinks you’re swell and tends to bring that up often, but he’s not trying to gloat.

I = Impression (what first attracted them to their s/o? how accurate was their first impression to how their s/o actually is?)

You seemed to handle that little joltik so carefully as you returned it to its mother galvantula, without an ounce of fear or malice in your eyes, and truly only kindness in your heart. It made him feel so at ease, like he had found a kindred spirit.

Not only was he right, he also found his soulmate too,

J = Jealousy (do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?)

N doesn’t quite understand jealousy. Like, you love each other, what does he have to worry about? He likes your friends a lot, and he finds anybody who tries to flirt with you more annoying than anything else

K = Kiss (are they a good kisser? what was their first kiss like? where do they kiss the most?)

At the beginning, N’s kisses are sweet but awkward, he’s so new to it, so he’s a bit afraid he might make a mistake. As your relationships progresses though, he becomes more comfortable and confident with it, and kisses reflect that, so soft and caring and full of meaning

I did a whole thing about N and kissing here

L = Little Things (what are the little things they love about their s/o? are they attentive?)

Really what doesn’t he love? It’s not that he puts you on a pedestal, he just genuinely finds you amazing and he loves you so much

M = Marriage (do they want to get married? how do they propose? what would the wedding be like?)

N doesn’t feel the need to marry you, as long as you’re in love, that’s what matters to him, a piece of paper doesn’t make it any more valid than it is in his eyes.

That being said, if you want to get married, he’s down for it, but don’t expect anything sappy or traditional. No proposal, no huge event, just the two of you exchanging heartfelt vows at the courthouse, with matching rings.

N = Nicknames (what do they call their s/o? what do they get called?)

He doesn’t really use nicknames, just the occasionally “Love” or “Dear”

On the flipside, he loves your nicknames for him. Some of his favourites are “Cutie”, “Sweetie”, “Greenie” and “Nat”

O = Open (do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? is it easy for them to share?)

While I wouldn’t say N is an open book, he doesn’t really hide things from you. He tells you how he feels without much fanfare, and you’re made aware of his past quite early on, even before you started dating.

P = Pancakes (are they a good cook? how often do they cook for their s/o? breakfast in bed or fancy dinner dates?)

N’s actually pretty good at cooking, and tends to cook pretty often, especially when you’re on the road together. His meals are simple and comforting, sometimes spicy, lots of soups and curries and rice.

Since he’s vegetarian, he prefers to cook for the two of you instead of going out, since most restaurants don’t have great options for him. That being said, if you find a place with a good menu, he’s totally down to take you there.

Q = Quirk (a random quality/ability that is beneficial to their relationship.)

N does not understand the concept of BS, so you don’t have to worry about playing weird mind games to find out what he really wants. As a result, your relationship is quite chill

R = Romance (how romantic are they? are they cliché or creative?)

Again, he’s not traditionally romantic, but he does care about you quite a lot and loves making you smile. And while it doesn’t say “I love you” very often, he means it, and that is a lot more valuable than any serenade or flower bouquet

S = Sleep (who falls asleep first? do they need their s/o close to them? do they have any bad habits?)

If you play with his hair, he’s out like a light. While he’s cuddles are lax and loose when he’s awake, he hugs you like a teddy when he’s fast asleep.

His sleep routine is shit though.

T = Thrill (do they need to spice up their relationship with new things or do they stick to a routine? how often do they do new things?)

N loves the cosiness of domestic mundanity, so it’s safe to say he likes to play it, well, safe. It gives him a sense of comfort and stability that he really appreciates.

U = Unity (did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? what traits do they share?)

Through being with you, N learns to be more attentive and emotional (in a healthy way), and to appreciate humans even more. He also feels more human too.

While you already loved Pokemon, he makes you see how truly amazing and special they are, and treat them even better than you did before.

V = Value (how important is their relationship to them? what is it worth compared to other things in their life?)

Your relationship is very important to him, but deep down, you know his love for Pokemon trumps his love for you. Though it never causes an issue with you

W = Wild Card (a random fluff headcanon.)

Likes to make matching flower crowns for the two of you and whatever Pokemon you’’re with at the time!

X = XOXO (do they like to kiss and cuddle? are they upfront about their relationship or rather shy when in public?)

N loves fluttery kisses and really tender hugs and cuddles, ones when you’re loosely tanged together and gently stroking each other’s skin.

He is not a PDA person at all, besides holding your hand and the occasional kiss. Some of it is shyness, but it’s mostly because he doesn’t feel the need to prove your relationship to anyone. He doesn’t use affection lightly.

Y = Yearning (how do they cope when they spend time away from their s/o? do they miss their s/o?)

He’s pretty okay on his own, since he’s quite used to it, but he does still miss you a lot. He finds comfort in things that remind you of him, a certain scent, a flower, a sound, even a Pokemon, it makes him feel like you’re with him

Z = Zoo (do they have pets? do they want some in the future?)

N doesn’t have any pets, mainly because he thinks Pokemon are friends. How many Poke-friends does he have? Too many for even him to count. My man radiates serious Disney Princess energy with the way Pokemon seem to flock to him.

That being said, he’s not against good people having Pokemon as pets, so if you have pokemon, you know he’ll be the best dad to them ever.

[semischarmed]

Truth

There he was. Lucas, in deep sleep. His snores fill the bedroom, barely lit by moonlight. The night was hot, and humid air envelops you both. Sweet, sweet Lucas- probably one of your nicest friends. Just a bit introspective, but you somewhat admired that in him. He was cute, sure, but he also exuded a beauty, a handsomeness that eclipsed many others. The way his eyes glistened intently whenever you held a conversation with him. They way his brows furrowed and gaze look into the distance whenever he was in deep thought. The way just the slightest folds on the corners of his eyes appeared whenever he smiled. The man was truly genuine, and whenever you two conversed he made sure you were the only thing that mattered in the world. Of course, who could forget that laugh. A quiet confidence and a mature self-acceptance brought to life with a bit of playful, youthful vibrancy. Truly everything that was this man, everything that was your Lucas was pinnacle, in your eyes. There would no other person in the world for you beyond him.

And in this most intimate of places, you see a side of him previously unseen. Damn those muscles. You knew he was relatively fit, but unhindered by his normal choice of clothing, they were massive. You note the delicate craftsmanship, the hills and valleys glistening, almost glowing in the moonlight. This man, who had trusted you enough to give you spare keys to his home, this man you had been yearning for years in secret was almost yours. A relationship, a friendship? No, one could not settle for just that. You would not be content until your every moment and his aligned. Pure, complete becoming. Lucas was your destiny.

With palms sweaty in anticipation, you chant the ancient words- spoken in long-dead tongues, invoking long-dead gods at your behest. These words did not come cheap. They were manifest from years of research and vast sums of wealth. Neither of which truly mattered anymore though, for what price could possibly ever match to perfection? The spell is near-complete, yet Lucas still slumbers.

Amidst the humid air and the warmth enveloping you both, there was on odd coldness. A coldness you could feel in your soul. Brisk, ancient, prickling sensations. Magic.The spell you were casting, despite being surely off-pronunciation was working. As you had found out magic, was 99% intent anyways, and you were single-track in this endeavor. You increase the speed of your speech in anticipation. ‘Oh Lucas… babe…just wait…almost there….’ 

“…sanguiniu- “ You cut yourself off by the sight before you. The spell was broken slightly but you can’t help but stare hungrily. 

In the entrance to the moist cavern of his mouth, you catch sight of his tongue- fleshy, thick, enveloped in a film of his saliva. Damn. It was teasing you, just hanging out there in the night air. With every rise and fall of his chest, it slowly followed suit, gently bobbing, slowly pulling you forward. 

You bite your lip when you notice a bit of drool pool on the corner of his mouth. He smiles a bit. Must have been a good dream. ‘Ugh. Even sleeping sloppy he was so cute.’ 

As you walk up to him, warm gusts of air gently caress your face, encircling and filling into your nostrils. This wasn’t just air. It was Lucas’ air- soon to be your air, beckoning it’s new owner in. And it smelled nice.  There was a pleasant muskiness about it. The spell wasn’t complete, but what’s the harm in a brief pause? You wouldn’t ever get a chance to experience Lucas like this anyway, at least not after you complete the incantation.

You lean closer to his mouth. “Should I….?” You gently wrap your lips around his tongue, pulling it into a fleshy envelope and begin sucking on it gently. ‘Ugh… sweet, Sweet Lucas. God, he even tasted delicious. As you feel his fleshy pink mass in your mouth, you can’t help but smile siphon a bit of him, a bit of his taste.

When you draw some of Lucas’ saliva into yourself, you near-faint in bliss. Fuck. You shiver uncontrollably at the notion of having a piece of Lucas inside you. This was everything. The flavor was unreal, much like his scent, it had earthy if somewhat salty notes but the muskiness, the raw testosterone in it was far more pronounced. It was an injection of pure Lucas inside yourself. You couldn’t help but suck just a bit more him in. 

The mouth surrounding that tongue was your entrance to the future, to your true self. Goddamn inviting. You even cum a little as you continue drawing more and more of Lucas and smash your head towards his open maw. “Mmmmm” you moan from your chest and throat, when he begins following suit, plump lips drawing over yours, bringing you closer as well. It purely instinctual on his end- didn’t fucking matter. All that rang true to you, all that mattered was that his reflexes, his body at that moment wanted you.

Lucas gags a little, breaking his unconscious silence as he inadvertently draws more and more of you into him. You relish in the moment, in the binding of your tongue to his, in the suction you feel emanating from his tongue. In your eyes, this was what his body wanted. what Lucas wanted. Of course it was. Your true place, your rightful place in this world was being a part of the Lucas experience, was being in him, was living as him. The corners of his lips turn into a more pronounced frown. His breathing hastens and in your intimate position, you steal each of these breaths into yourself. He awakes to the sight of his good friend uncomfortably close over his body. Impossibly close, in fact, and locked in orgasmic bliss. You sneer continue with your odd “kiss”. It was passionate, sloppy- at least from your end. Locked in ecstasy, you pay little mind to his attempts to pull you away. You’re not fucking letting go though, and maintain yourself lock on his tongue. This “kiss” was exactly how you’d always imagined it to be, only far more visceral, more raw. Imagination could only take you so far, after all. Heat exudes his chest and you greedily push your body stuck to his. A soft, slick sound is heard when both your chests stick together, sweat mixing. In his panicked breaths, you feel powerful lungs draw in and expand into you, squishing more of his skin over yours. Goddamn you can’t wait for it to be you using those lungs, flaunting those muscles, speaking through that mouth with that tongue. You can’t wait to make those vocal cords yours, to make them utter phrases they’ve never had to.

You smile as the magic begins to do its work. Tongues are drawn together, drawn to be one, and your face starts to squish into him. In his eyes he can only see yours sparkle in lust. You moan further. “Tho close. We’re almoth there Lucath….almoth uth…almoth one” you half mumble in slurred movements. 

Then, you feel it. Lucas’ tongue. The persistent suction drawing you into him. The nerves of his tongue tasting and feeling yours. ‘This is it. One last push further.’ You muse. You start moaning louder as he tries in vain to push you out, but you’re already melded to him- your skin and meat and bones already liquefying and condensing into a mass onto his tongue. He can feel it too. Pure Treachery. You begin to finish out the words of the spell. Now intimately, physically connected, Lucas is forced to repeat the words with you. The spell is complete. Of course, intent had been muddled by the now-awake Lucas, and words slipped and slid around your conjoined tongue. Didn’t matter, apparently, as you still felt the air become heavy with ancient briskness and enclose around you two. In a slosh, your entire form pushes into his tongue enveloping it. The pressure in the air is now crushing, and you feel yourself crumple, congeal, and consolidate into his tongue. In that pressure, you felt yourself born anew, bound, a part of Lucas. Finally, to be one. 

Lucas wakes in a cold sweat, shivering despite the warm night air. His tongue dangles off to the side of his open mouth. “Weird” he states, before pulling it back in. “What a fucking dream” he states before gently dozing back off to sleep. 

So, that spell was a bit of letdown. In the afterglow of the event, you soon realize the mistake made in clouded judgement. Rites, ancient languages and their intricacies. You never quite gotten that intent correct. You realize your mistake in your new form. You try to move, only to realize that while you were indeed a part of Lucas, only his tongue dangles slightly. 

Still being his tongue was not all bad. You are a now fully a part of him after all, so you feel yourself swell in pride at being a part of this handsome man. Besides, as a tongue, taste was all amplified. When Lucas had later awoken and eaten that first breakfast, it was near-orgasmic. What would have been a fairly simple breakfast was nothing short of divine. Even something as simple as toast- from his mouth that initial first crunch, the particles that first fell on you, the short, roasted crumbs with an almost decadent caramel tone- it was all too much to handle. Bread never tasted like this. The coffee he drank was even better. It was bitter, like all coffee, but it was a deep, rich bitterness, swirled through an undeniable nuttiness and the mild thick sweetness of the cream. Of course, as his tongue you could move slightly. You used this tiny bit of control you had to make sure every crunch, every slurp mattered. Lucas noticed his tongue move almost of its own volition, effortlessly gliding over each bite, rubbing over every ridge, showing its master the joy in the mundane. It would be his slowest and most delicious breakfast to date. Every bite and every lick its own coordinated effort. One hundred percent Lucas, one hundred percent you. Something as mundane as breakfast became a synchronized dance between you two. There would be no one closer to him than this. To top it all off, you got to be where you wanted afterward- in Lucas. It was like a warm, wet embrace in his body’s own little way. 

Though frankly, his taste in food could use some work. Those fucking protein shakes. Goddamn you swear the man drinks one for every meal. Vile, chalky, tasteless liquids that he forces you to swallow. If you still had a throat, you’d gag every time. Of course you cannot and are forced to take it, forced to move however his nerves direct.

For now, this would be fine, because when he wasn’t eating that very same flavor, that very same essence of Lucas that you crave enveloped you perpetually. It’s like the “kiss” from that night, he’s unwittingly got you locked in one with him for eternity. 

— 

Living as his tongue for the past few weeks has been amazing, but you can’t help but wonder about what could have been. You’ve since been accustomed to eating the same meals he did, to working as his tongue and have even gotten a bit more autonomy. Still, this was his body and he was the boss and it readily pushed a command that you could not disobey. 

You actually felt yourself a little larger of a presence in him, though you still couldn’t quite grasp why.

Today, Lucas was out walking with his friend. Mark. Lucas would always be first in your mind, but Mark was a close second. Your mind wanders, brewing lustful, sinful thoughts about Mark. As you squirm inside Lucas, something changes. There was something else beyond just his tongue. You firmly take it into yourself, before continuing in your Mark-filled stream. Without warning, Lucas goes up to his dear friend for a quick lick. 

“Hey sexy”

It’s barely audible, but unquestionably there. No one dare say another word in tense air.

“Handsssomeee…” 

The word slices through the tension clean. As a part of him, you feel warmth bloom inside Lucas. His face is bright red. 

Mark calls Luke’s bluff. “Haha bro… you really into me like that?” You feel Lucas’ throat close up. “N-no dude, er-it’s not like that” he replies meekly.

Mark takes the compliment in stride though, jokingly giving Lucas a wink, and playfully punching his shoulder. “Whatever bro, if you’re gonna stand there oogling, at least pay for my dinner” he laughs. In that brief moment of vulnerability, you flash just the lightest bit of control over that very same shoulder he punched. Addicting. The second taste of Lucas’ body. Lucas reacts to the muscle spasm by shivering slightly and wiping the punch off. “Haha, Fuck you too Mark” he laughs before absentmindedly licking his lips. By this point, you can barely pay attention to the outside world.

Because inside Lucas, inside the future you, acquisition. Ecstasy. For at this moment, you now felt his lungs-those lungs-your. lungs. You now felt his throat, his voice. In every breath he draws, you loan him back control, but it’s truly yours. You feel yourself expand and contract in slow, rhythmic motions. You feel the muscles surrounding them, and his warm heart pumping inside you. You feel yourself vibrate as he contorts you to form his sentences. It was divine. You start to chuckle, which results in the Lucas of the outer world choking slightly mid-sentence. Unfinished spells and unfinished magic were quite unpredictable but slowly, surely, the spell did its work. ’So that’s how it is.’ 

A few days later, a few days of your presence and you have even better hold over his voice. You relish in your control. The way his voice feels reverberating and rolling off you. Like sweet honey leaking out of the man of your dreams. On some nights, in his deepest sleep, you whisper sweet nothings to yourself, making Lucas beg you to possess him fully. “Pleeeease… take me… all of me…”

His unconscious body winces, grabs at air, pull at sheets, and writhes in pleasure as you make him say this. You shared a body after all, excess lust, excess hormones- they had to be going somewhere.

—

On this particular day, Lucas had been pumping iron with another of his friends. Andre always looked fucking hot, so you figured this would be as good of an opportunity as any.

You bring yourself to Andre’s neck, dragging your tongue around the bump of his Adam’s apple, circling the pronounced veins running across the sides. Hmmm. Salty.

You focus your words, your feelings into one- a phrase to unlock your freedom. Words reverberate through Lucas’ very core. You are his tongue, so you feel his nerves yield, his receptors, his very body yours.

“R-r-ravage me, Andre- Ravage this body. Show me what those guns can do- let me feel them, let me feel you. Lukey’s feeling lonely… I have a you-shaped hole ripe for the-“ Andre tries to repeat the perverted words coming out of his friend’s mouth, tries to digest them, to process what the fuck just happened. 

“H-Hey- Dude! What the fuck was that for!?” Andre asked in shock. Shaking Lucas’ shoulders. He looked genuinely hurt. But Lucas was lost in lust. He was different. He was moaning. “F-FUCK yeah. You taste delicious. Did I ever tell you that bro?” He spoke perversely. His words and thoughts tainted, clouded by your lust. You liked him better this way. He breaks from his spell.

“Oh God- I- Fuck! Sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I don’t know what that was. A-Andre? You ok?  A teary Lucas asked his friend. 

“Yeah dude.. whatever. Just please..um.. never do it again” He grimaced. 

Since you were a part of Lucas, you felt fear rush through his bones. He sucks his hanging tongue back in- a recently-acquired, disturbing habit he seems to have picked up from nowhere. He was terrified. Not just in his body, his voice moving on its own. He was terrified because he liked it. Terrified that he was becoming something else, something perverse. In truth, he really was. In your soul you could tell that Lucas was almost ready, because the endorphins, the testosterone, hormones you were pumping him chock-full with with had not dissipated. It was exhilarating. Fear. Lust. Ecstasy. These pervaded inside him, emotions mixing and swirling with yours. You could feel him try to fend off raw desire and a raging hard-on while he tried to sincerely comfort his friend. Fuck it feels amazing being a part of him. The man liked to keep his emotions in check but he was slipping. You were like a poison to him, slowly infecting his very self. Or perhaps, you were his antidote, the catalyst needed for both you to become your true selves. In this very moment though, you were simply content in just being a part of him. Content to just ride the invisible passenger. Content to feel the rush of his emotions as your own. The best part in all this? Lucas was continually shifting while he talked to Andre, trying to hide the intense desire to be used, experienced, felt. Because of you, he was getting off on all this. 

Shame riddled Lucas while you continued to worm and entrench yourself in him. That didn’t stop you two from masturbating to the thought of dragging that hot tongue all over Andre’s bod.

———

It’s been a few weeks now, and the corruption of Lucas was near-complete. Your Lucas was near-complete.

Every morning, he catches himself checking his face out in the mirror, sticking his tongue out, making seductive motions. “-fffFuck yeahhh” you both say. Like clockwork he soon shakes himself lucid, disturbed and goes about his day. Increasingly, you’ve been moaning with him, flooding him with your endorphins in response, rewarding his body for its increasingly deviant nature. These sessions have only gotten longer and more frequent. In a sense, his body began to crave it- to crave you. The more he uses that tongue, the more you rile up in being used- the further and deeper he becomes yours. 

Armed with this knowledge, you throw your lust into overdrive, driving him mad. His eyes are perpetually dilated, blood perpetually rushing, and he his lip quivers often in bursts of pleasure. His friends notice the slight change too, when your future body stiffens to their touch. Really, it’s just Lucas trying to stop himself, his impulses from guiding him from going all over them. Your soon-to-be friends probably noticed his propensity-your propensity to leave yourself hanging out of his mouth, displaying proudly to the world.

His body is now all but yours. It actively fights the man, resisting his every move slightly, pumping him with sinful impulses, edging the last vestige of Lucas-his brain- to relent. His body wants you in control. Alas, the brain was the forefront of control, and whenever focused you can do nothing but to comply. Despite this, you know you’re close- the man can barely focus, barely rest, as you continue pumping him with pleasure, taunting him to release himself to you. 

Something inside told you this was it- this was the day. In this very morning, he wakes in a trance, walking over to his mirror, gazing at himself in clouded lust. He was drawn to himself and relinquishing to the desires both his body and you had been pumping him with. Of course, the lapse is momentary, the moan near-inaudible, but it was enough. Jackpot. In that briefest of moments, you wrestle primary control of this body from him, cementing you as his puppet-master. His body complies willingly, flaring in anticipation of its new owner. After all, you’ve been feeding it your pleasure whenever it follows your command. Locked in that pleasure, you begin to move around, relishing in the absolute control you now had.

Still, who knew how long this would last? You needed a way to have Lucas, to be like this permanently. As you eye his features in the mirror, you knew just what to do. 

You start with his face. His eyes are wide with fear as his body continues moving on its own volition. His mouth purses into a pout- a cute little touch you wanted to add- by itself. A thick tongue begins to peek out of plump lips. Like a snake, you greedily taste the morning air, wiggling your pink flesh in delight before focusing on the “delight” you were attached to. You want to taste it all-to taste the man you would become once more. You start by delicately layering his own saliva over his lips. In the absence of breakfast, you deduce this essence to be 100% Lucas. The flavor was - nonintrusive. But you could tell the reeked of an undercurrent manliness, cause in that very saliva and essence of Lucas that you coat yourself with, you also felt the saturation of testosterone, the slight bitterness of power inherent in being him. It was a humble flavor that unquestionably read “Man”.  Everything this body made, everything it was was addicting. 

Prickly- Thats how the beard surrounding his lips were. Delicious, seductive hairs that Lucas liked to keep just the tiniest bit unkempt, that you just found all the more alluring. In this very forest of hairs were the concentrated sweat, grime, and natural scent baked and solidified from the previous day- for Lucas was a morning showerer.

You decide to give him shower his body deserved- “Shower” would be stretching the use of the word. You engorge yourself- sticking and smearing your wet, pink flesh all over that prickly skin, savoring in the salty, putrid essence, in the raw flavoring of the beard of the man you would become. Of course it was delicious. It was Lucas.

Yet there would be more Lucas to share. You survey the next area to “shower” in this bod- he watches in fear as his left hand raises straight up to the sky. Fingers fashion themselves into a claw and veins in that arm flare to life. Cutey little Lukey was trying to fight it. The hand shakes in internal struggle. You decide to revel in this moment. Since your libido was now Lucas’, his cock can’t help but harden. You make him look at it before calling it a “Joint effort” with a wink. He moans, body betraying mind. You catch a whiff of the stench emanating from your left. Delightful. His protestations and disgust are muddled in your raw elation, as you smash his mouth face first into his unwashed armpit.

“MMmmmpph” He tries to get a word out, tries to pull himself off his own skin to no avail. After all, you were still his tongue, and you were quite preoccupied. Sharp, pungent, sour, flavors line you as you smear more and more of yourself around. You briefly entangle and entwine yourself into his hairs, coating them with his own saliva while you poke and prod. His body is forced to experience wave after wave of the pleasure you felt in burying yourself here. You indulge in his scent further. Using his lungs, you make him inhale deeply. His own muskiness floods his senses and he briefly regains control, coughing in disgust. ‘Uh-oh, might not have much time left’. You pull some more strings inside him and his body is all too willing to follow. “T-This is our own scent bro…” he says. The words fall out his mouth in an attempt at the intonation, the phrasing he’d normally use. You continue, making those lips, those vocal cords yours. “Gotta learn to love it… to love us”. It sure sounded like Lucas’ voice, but it there was something off about it. 

High off the aroma, you continue, rounding out his left bicep. Goddamn. Packed inside was pure muscle. Dense, hard musculature built through years of hard work. The thick firm skin gives way slightly, with a bit of bounce as you take his tongue further down his arm. Goddamn bliss. This skin was saltier than the others- different, like all the flavors of Lucas, you note. ‘But they are all undeniably, uniquely him’.

You swirl in fluid, curving motions as you go over every muscle running down his arm. A trail of slime leaves your wake, rubbing a mixture of of flavors throughout his arm. This only serves to rile you up further, as his muscles glisten in the morning light. When you get to his veiny hands, you take extra special care to run yourself through its every crevice, exploring as much of Lucas as you could. You make his lips pucker as you pull yourself off his index finger with an audible pop. A string of saliva follows, but you quickly gobble that back into yourself.

Bulging muscles stir as you command his biceps yours as well. They turn inwards, presenting their vascularity, their raw power to you. Beautiful.

This was it. You motion to bring his hand towards his crotch, curling them slightly in anticipation. As you eyed that cock. You both knew this to be the end. 

“NO!” he shouts in added clarity. Body follows mind and he pulls back some of his own strings for himself. The fight is brief but you manage to grab some control back.

You use his very voice against him. “You’re right baby… this is it… o-our new life… our first time together needs to be special.” He’s now shouting profanities in your head. Funny, you’ve never heard him curse before.

Without warning, you rush yourself to his now-hard dick. He screams in searing pain as his spine concaves and you inch toward your prize. His tongue is not used to moving with such dexterity, but it’s been quite some time since it could even really be considered ‘his’ tongue anymore. You snake yourself around his dick, constricting around the dank, putrid skin, encasing it in globs of saliva and pink, oral flesh. 

Even Lucas couldn’t help but moan at the divine sensation. Your bumpy texture running along his skin shot wave after wave of bliss. In every constriction, you feel it firm even harder, causing you to wrap your slimy hug around it further, construct more. Lucas’ moans quicken as you get to work. Push… You ebb and flow, there and back, as you work through his now-throbbing member. Pull. Each movement of the textured tongue runs sheer ecstasy as bump after bump moves back and forth and stimulates. Push. You hasten, wanting the both of you to fulfill the moment. Pull… Push… Pull… Push. Flashes of intense pleasure rush through you both as you aim for the finish line. PushPullPushPullPushPull- heaven. At that very moment of release, the two of you are brought to another plane of existence. Time stops and the world is still. You and Lucas though? Vibrating. In this plane you rush toward him, your vibrations synchronize with his, you overlay over him, and pleasure rumbles and bubbles from deep within. The universe, your world, your room comes back to focus. In a splash, a wave of pearl-white seed coats you. 

In the afterglow of his masturbation, when his nerves and neural connections begin to provide clarity, to link themselves in trust, you instead feel them attach to you. Much like his body, like his tongue, they too have become corrupted, twisted by your constant presence and the raw eroticism. This was the key to permanence.

Like veins they worm and take root inside you, growing into you. In your perversion of his senses, you feel these roots alight, yield themselves to become yours. Down to the last synapse, you rush and pull these all to yourself, to acquire, appropriate them. Once Lucas’ brain had adequately sequestered itself in you, his memories soon followed. This too had its own flavor, albeit somewhat muted- like the sweetness of his first date-yours. Or the bitterness of a childhood experience-yours. Raw wonderment and passing thoughts- fucking. yours. You scream in shrill delight as the last, the tinniest, the deepest of his neural connections had become yours. There would be no going back for him, for you were now Lucas in body, Lucas in mind. 

Tears well in his eyes. He tries to fight it, tries to kick you out, to push you away from him. His back arches, and he writhes in pain, trying in vain. Face scrunches in searing, unimaginable agony before it seizes and mouth shoots open, tongue dangling out. There would nothing to push out for you and him were already bonded. He clutches his head and in that single instance, his eyes shoot wide open. Finally, success. 

Lucas’ shoulders sag as he collapses to the ground.

Moments later, Lucas’s body stirs. It wriggles awake before taking one assured, strong step forward. It pushes itself up and walks right back up to the mirror, emotionless. Then, a satisfied smile paints its face. Like someone finally resting after an arduous battle, he breathes a sigh of relief. Lucas’ body looks back at itself in the mirror, innocently-eyes glassy. The kind smile it wore grows just a bit wider. It chuckles softly. Success.

The smile continues growing. Chuckles becomes laughter. The voice resounds ill-fitting to the mound of muscle that was Lucas. It was Innocent smile soon becomes tainted with sinful glee. Lucas’ body starts full-on cackling. “YES” you growl. Hearing his resonant voice follow your words, your intent was amazing. Hearing your thoughts spoken in the same ton, same intonation he used took it next-level. “FUCK. YES… FINALLY”!

That last piece was it. Cum still warm on his body, you lap it up, swallowing it whole, jealously keeping even this part of Lucas to yourself. It was salty, musky, viscous essence. It was pure fucking Lucas. The voice, the dull resistance from him was gone. The sensation was both sobering clarity and drunk ecstasy. Like the world itself was realigning to put you and him together, as one living Lucas. His memories now flow freely into you as they are now yours. It tickles. With his memories comes his feelings, his wants, his wishes- all of which you have cemented as a part of Lucas’s new psyche-Your new psyche. Goddamn it feels good to be Lucas.

Finally, Lucas had reframed, recontextualized the entirety of himself, the entirety of his being to you. You talk like him. You frown like him. You smile like him. Hell, you even think like him. Hips sway as you start to dance in front of the mirror in your new body, your new soul. It was pure, jubilant expression. You wipe happy tears from your eyes.

You were drunk on power of controlling him. Of finally truly being him. You relish in hearing his voice as your own, in your very thoughts being thought through a filter of his life, your commands executed by his body. You allow his vocal cords to perform. You allow his hips to shake uncharacteristically, tantalizing. You allow the words to leave his mouth. They were juicy taunts made juicier with the knowledge that his lips shift and degrade the very body they were in at you beckoning, that was his very neurons were conforming to you thoughts and will. You now do everything in wholly Lucas-ey way. 

Lucas’ body smacks its ass, while it continues shaking its hips uncharacteristically in slow, sensual movements. “Goddamn, you should have gotten inside me sooner.” You make him say. “My body, my mind, my soul we were lonely for you. We needed you in here. I love having you inside me. I love you wearing my skin, using my muscles as a suit. Don’t worry” You make him flex. “These are forever yours. My mind? Forever yours. Control me. Use Me. No- deeper. [moan] Become. Me. Be. Lucas.” 

“I’m Lucas” you say to yourself in response. It rolls off your tongue naturally, fluidly, and in full truth. You truly were him. “But you can call me Luke, baby”.

You had done it. You were finally Lucas. One mind, one body, one soul.

“Mine forever, Lucas”

—

It’s been months and your friends have definitely caught on to the sheer oddness of it all. Near-instantaneously, their dear friend Lucas’ personality had flipped. Each of them could pinpoint a ‘special’ spot on their bodies where their boy Lukey liked to lick them. ‘It was just his thing’ they often said, embracing their new dynamic as well as the new Lucas. This you-enhanced Lucas, likewise, had also embraced his new self. Greedy, lustful self-obsession bordering on narcissism, and of course the penchant to show off his slimy tongue. Of course, the first few times you did this, they recoiled at the behavior. You had your preferences, you had the knowledge inherent in being Lucas- you knew exactly how wear his soul, how to embody his life because you were him. But you weren’t content leaving it like this, in just continuing as him. This was the new, improved Lucas. With you in command, you couldn’t help but introduce some changes, couldn’t help but show off your handiwork.

Mark had grown so accustomed to your constant licks, he looked visibly upset when you weren’t on him. One night, you decided to take it a step further, to take a leap the old Lucas never would have and stroke your vascular hands all over him. He complied, moaning all the while, guiding you around to explore him- guess it was actually Mark who was into you. He paid for dinner that night.

The old Lucas was sweet and reserved- The new you? Not a chance. As Lucas, you constantly wore a leering, lewd gaze. You wore thin, revealing clothing accentuating your new Lucas-bound muscles. Why not share it with the world? The very air you emanated was persistently thick with sexual energy, brimming with pheromones. New-Lucas was your deepest desires bound to living flesh. And at the forefront of it all-that thick tongue of yours. At every occasion, in every possible way, you flaunt it to the world.

Tattooed somewhere in this body is your old name. Ink representing the old you, and your absolute permanence this new form of yours, cementing yourself as forever a part of him, cementing the intersection of your history and his. You. Lucas. One. This was the new truth in the world. 

- End -

Had tons of fun channeling @verus-veritas​ to write this one out. Hope I did you justice!

[penwrythepersonal]

Writing Discourse: My Thoughts on Fantasy Racism

Inspired by this tweet here by game dev doll!

fantasy racism is so funny because authors and writers make that choice to include racism in a world where racism literally does not have to exist writing shitty racism allegories to compare it to real life racism in the worst way possible

TL;DR of my thoughts:

Fantasy racism has major pitfalls including weird voyeurism, risk of dehumanization, and bare-bones exploration that rarely tackles the more complex issues of how it functions in real life. However, completely disregarding it in all fiction and fantasy is not great either. Everybody has different takes on racism and those it affects (like myself) may want to explore how it affects us within the realm of fiction. Yes, fiction/fantasy does not have to have it, but it is also something you don't have to avoid exploring either. But, you don't need to have racism in a story to give it conflict. There is always more than one type of conflict/injustice. Discussing injustices in a fantasy society between two opposing groups does not have to be about racism. Not everything needs to be a 1:1 allegory about real-life struggles and societal issues.

My full thoughts:

I agree with mixed feelings. As a Black person, I do feel that there's too much focus on including racism but not really discussing its societal and cultural harms in fantasy worldbuilding. Most times it's presented as a minor character flaw with little effort to solve the larger problem or strange voyeurism over "this is the life of the other" while depicting the worst aspects of racism in the story's setting. Then there's the fantasy racism allegory of animals and creatures experiencing racism, which gets awkward when the in-universe depiction of racism does not make sense, or at worst, dehumanizes the people these characters/creatures are supposed to represent. I don't think OP is saying all fantasy should not have it, but its presentation is often problematic or harmful.

However, I don't want people to avoid discussing racism or other serious issues in their stories. Yes, fantasy is escapism and it does not have to discuss these issues. But fantasy, and all of fiction, also function as a reflection of real life. If a story has this in it, that means the author actively chose to do so and wants to explore it within their own story.

Like, I really want to vent about how my society treats Black people like me and I'm going to put my feelings into my story. Or I might want to discuss it, but within the setting of the story, "discrimination" as we know it may work differently in a fantasy setting. For example, in one of my stories for The Mundane Realm (See my carrd for World of Relics), my characters, the talking object people, have no concept of "race" or "racism" (nor do they have any historical concept of systematic/institutional racism) but they do understand "durability". Durability drives their society's version of discrimination against each other. Durability-based discrimination is never presented as a 1:1 allegory of real-life racial discrimination in my story. It is a form of discrimination inspired by my lived experience, yes, but something of its own that exists within the confines of the story's worldbuilding and my characters' society.

Outside of TMR, my other stories don't have discrimination or racism. One covers a rivalry between kingdoms, not driven by racism, but driven by a never-ending war over what their past rulers have done to each other. There are heavy themes of revenge and trauma as conflict. I also have another story about a young actor who is neurodivergent and has an overactive paracosm that they must reconcile with while living in a world of imagination. The main theme of their story is just living as a new adult (early 30s) struggling to find a job and sticking to it. Rise of Relics is a story about people, after experiencing permanent metaphysical changes to their bodies after a mass extinction event, fight to save what's left of their world while another group wants to restart it at the risk of killing all who survived. The main driving conflict of that story is adapting to the Death of Normal.

However, once again, my lived experience will still pervade my writing. This includes what I experience living as a Black person in a racist country. All my protagonists are either Black or Black-coded (Yes, I know. I hate this term for non-human characters, but I see myself in them. I'm welcome to a better term, please suggest one!). At some point, the characters in my story will face being othered. I want to discuss what that feels like. I should have the right to explore my feelings about that. Going full "I don't see color" in my stories is just not going to work.

If I was white, then yeah… But I'm not. I am Black. Everything I write, even if I remove any discussion of discrimination or other problematic issues of our society in my stories, will always be colored by my experience. Even a utopian society in a fantasy setting will always have this part of me. This is an unavoidable fact.

On the other end of this, you can have a good fantasy story with strong worldbuilding that still have other forms of conflict outside of discrimination. (Cough-even though most conflict in real life is heavily fueled by some kind of discrimination, prejudice, or injustice of some kind-cough) Juno Steel from The Penumbra Podcast is set in a sci-fi universe future where racism, homophobia, transphobia, and other forms of discrimination do not exist. It still discusses classism and capitalism as its main conflict. Star Trek, Star Wars, etc. Fantasy can still have conflict without racism. Two or more opposing groups do not have to be racist to one another in your fantasy story. They can have conflicts with economics, land, faiths, ideologies, differences in technology, generational differences, speciesism, etc. There's always more than one type of conflict. There's always more than one type of injustice. This is a universal truth and something worth exploring and finding ways to dismantle their stronghold on society.

[bridgetserdocksketches]

We're suffering tonight, boys

Lena isn’t avoiding Kara, okay? She’s just very busy. That’s all. What with being the CEO of her own company, running her own experiments, and this new little passion project she has a lot going on. Her absence in Kara’s life these past few days has absolutely nothing to do with the black eye she’s currently sporting. Don’t be ridiculous.

Though, in hindsight, she really should’ve known she’d only be able to bail on lunch with Kara so many times before she came knocking.

Lena’s knee deep in some complex coding, trying to figure out what went wrong with this last test and fix it, when she gets the call. She barely even looks at her phone screen before answering. Not that she needs to.

“Kara, hi,” she says warmly.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Well, shit. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Are you sick? You know if you’re sick you can just tell me, right?”

“Yes, I-- no, Kara. I’m not sick.”

Lena can practically see the pinch in her brow. The confusion painted all over her face as she tries to puzzle out what’s going on with Lena.

“Okay, well you skipped lunch three times this week. Is everything alright?” Kara asks.

“Yes, everything’s perfectly fine. I’ve just been busy,” Lena assures her.

“So you’re not avoiding me?”

Lena breathes out a sigh that borders on a laugh. “No.”

“Alright, then can you come let me in?”

Before Lena can even ask where she is or what she means (as if she doesn’t already know), there’s a knocking at the door. Not the front door, of course. No, that would be far too mundane. It’s at the back door. The balcony door. The one that Lena always leaves unlocked, but Kara refuses to open without being welcomed in.

Her immediate reaction is to get up and open the door for Kara. But then Kara would see the black eye that much sooner. And if she can stall for even a few seconds longer, she will. So instead, she simply turns over her shoulder (careful to keep her left eye obscured) and calls out to Kara.

“It’s open.”

Still wearing the Supergirl suit and wielding a takeout bag, Kara strides into Lena’s apartment with a little spring in her step. Because as far as she’s concerned, Lena hasn’t been avoiding her. Lena isn’t hiding a few secrets from her and has nothing out of the ordinary going on. She’s just a little extra busy with that passion project she has outright refused to share any information about with anyone. There is absolutely nothing for her - or Lena, for that matter - to worry about.

“I figured you didn’t eat anything since you skipped lunch, again,” Kara drawls, the barest hint of disappointment in her words. “So I brought you dinner.” She walks around to get in front of Lena, finally, and plops the greasy bag of Big Belly Burger down on the counter. “Voila!”

There’s a five second gap after the delectable diabetic nightmare is presented before Lena. Five charged seconds where Lena simply waits for Kara to finally notice. At first, she’s a little too proud of herself. A grin so broad and brilliant and downright beautiful it could be considered blinding spread across her face. But then those blue eyes of hers track a little to the left and they go wide. Her mouth falls open. Her brow pinches. And several emotions flicker over her visage all at once.

Her lips work around a few words, spluttering on air briefly, before she finally settles on “Lena!”

And Lena can’t help herself. “Kara?”

Kara blinks. “What-- When-- Who did this to you?”

Lena exhales deeply and leans back in her chair. “No one did this to me.”

Kara’s around on Lena’s side of the counter in the space of a heartbeat. Her hands cradling Lena’s face like it’ll break under the slightest amount of pressure as she examines her.

“What happened?” She demands.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Lena insists.

It’s almost believable, too. But then Kara’s thumb chances a little too close to her left eye. With a hiss of pain, Lena flinches from her hand. Kara’s brow furrows further and her frown deepens.

“Lena--”

“I’m fine, Kara. Really,” Lena says. She takes both of Kara’s hands in her own and pulls them down from her face. “It was just an experiment gone wrong.”

“What sort of experiment gives people black eyes?”

Lena breathes out an indignant little huff of air. “It’ll be easier to just show you.”

Kara’s gaze narrows. “Alright.”

Kara is right on Lena’s heels as they walk to the spare room. The room Lena has taken to calling the nursery, where Baymax is lying in wait. At this stage in his development, he’s pretty infantile at best. He knows a few key phrases and can identify a person as long as they’re standing in front of him. But he can’t hold a conversation and his object permanence is severely lacking. So, yeah. Lena’s gonna call his room a nursery.

Baymax is in his charging pod where she’d left him a few days ago (when their most recent test run failed spectacularly, leaving Lena with a shiner). There isn’t anything else in the room, though. Lena had removed a lot of it to make space for his assembly. Once that was done, she decided to keep the room empty after he broke her last laptop after a particularly nasty glitch. So the only thing in here, as far as Kara’s concerned, is some weird red luggage tucked against the back wall.

“What am I looking at?” Kara asks, the worry from before replaced with confusion and curiosity.

“Hopefully something that’ll help a lot of people,” Lena says.

It’s cryptic, she’ll admit. But it’s hard to explain exactly what Baymax is at this point. Because he’s not simply a robot anymore. He’s taken on so much more personality and life in just the few weeks since his first test run. He’s learning. Growing. Like a person.

So instead of explaining, Lena crosses the length of the room, kneels down in front of the charging pod, and activates the robot.

Later, Kara would say that Lena leapt away from the charging station as it booted up. Like she’d gotten zapped or something. Lena, however, would vehemently insist that she simply hurried away in case something went wrong. Either way, she now stands alongside Kara, watching with bated breath as Baymax comes back to life.

She counts the seconds it takes him to inflate. 23. They need to get that down. He needs to be faster. If someone is really hurt, he has to be able to help. It takes another 4 seconds for Baymax to fully boot up. His eyes blink to signify that he’s fully functional and ready to assist. A total of 27 seconds. They can do better.

Not that Kara notices. She’s staring open mouthed and wide eyed as Baymax awkwardly stumbles out of his charging pod. His steps are heavy, almost as if he thinks the floor is further down (just another thing to iron out). He stops moving about two feet away from them both. Lifts his hand limply into the air (the fingers not fully inflated or opposable yet).

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

And then he freezes. Standing right there. Unmoving and, to be frank, a little terrifying.

“Wow,” Kara breathes.

“Yeah,” Lena agrees. “He’s still got a lot of bugs to work out. Hence the black eye.” She gestures at her left eye vaguely. “But when he’s finished, he’s going to help a lot of people.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kara asks.

Lena turns to her now. Her brow arched and a playful little smirk on her lips. “What? Is being Supergirl not enough for you?”

“Don't get me wrong. I love being Supergirl, but this.” She points at Baymax’s frozen form. “This will be able to do something I never could.”

Lena’s smirk falls into something softer. Something kinder. Kara finally looks at her now.

“Now, I’m not great with coding and all that… stuff. But I can help you test him out. No matter how hard he tries, he’s not going to be able to give me a black eye.”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Do I… do I start now?” Kara asks hesitantly. She fidgets uncomfortably with the sign Lena handed her, then adjusts her glasses.

Lena smiles at her from behind her computer. “You can start whenever you like. But I do want to be done by dinner, darling.”

“Right.” Kara nods.

She looks away from Lena, her eyes landing on Baymax. And then she grins. That unfairly perfect grin. The one that is so infectious it’s a wonder the CDC aren’t investigating it yet.

“This is Kara Danvers,” She says, carefully enunciating each word. “And this is the first test of mine and Lena Luthor’s Baymax Project.”

She reaches forward, just like Lena showed her, and turns Baymax on. She grins again, up at the robot, and waits. Watches as he blinks, tilts his head down, and lifts his hand.

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

“Hello, Baymax!” She answers cheerily. “Would you please scan me?”

“Beginning scan now,” Baymax announces.

But that’s not what happens. No, it would be too simple if that’s what happens next. Instead, the entire system glitches. And both his arms start vibrating rapidly.

Kara’s face pales. “Uh, Lena,” she calls, not daring to look away from another rogue robot. “Is he supposed to be doing that?”

“No,” Lena says quickly. She looks between the two screens in front of her, trying to search for the error in his code to stop this from happening next time. “You gotta shut him down, Kara.”

“Uh-oh!” Kara exclaims.

Lena’s head snaps up. “Uh-oh?”

“Sorry about your laptop,” Kara says, as if it’s her fault Baymax broke yet another computer. Lena really needs to stick to her no-computers-in-the-nursery rule.

“It’s alright.” Lena waves her off, dutifully working away at the code from her tablet. “I’ll just get another one.”

“Next time I’ll stand between the two of you. That way I can better stop his renegade flying arms.”

Lena's gaze snaps to where Kara sits, finishing off the last of their fries (Lena’s fries, really. But they always share). “Next time? You still want to help after that disaster?”

“Of course,” Kara says earnestly. Then her face screws up. “But do you think we could make him look a little friendlier? A bit rounder? You know. Friend-shaped?”

Lena snickers. “Friend-shaped?”

“Yeah. Friend-shaped.”

Lena laughs lightly, and start typing again. “I think I can make that work.”

Wow. That got away from me

So this is how Kara ends up being the one to test Baymax. It's also part of what Baymax shows to Lena after telling her "Kara is here."

This scene (as in the video, not the ficlet) would serve as an emotional low point, if you couldn't tell. And it would be the moment where Lena decides she's going to let the Superfriends use Baymax to save Kara (instead of his actual purpose which is, you know, healthcare)

[abundanceofnots]

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. ��It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

[plush-rabbit]

Mistletoe - LOV

A/N: I have feelings for all of them(⺣◡⺣)♡*

Bubaigawara Jin:

Jin will claim that he doesn’t care about the silly tradition but in reality, he really does. It’s cute and while he doesn’t have much experience being under one, he does know how to kiss. He’s loud and boisterous, bouncing in his place and narrowing his eyes through his mask when he sees one, turning his head to find you or even just to make sure that no one else is under one with you.

It’s a bit of a mixed bag with him, he’s eager to kiss you but he doesn’t want to. Kissing you would mean that he would have to pull up his mask and he doesn’t want to do that- even if it’s just a fraction that he’s raising and he doesn’t think you would enjoy a through the mask kiss. He wants the first kiss to be special- or at least not weird you out. It’s constant back and forth with himself where he’s just unsure of what to do if the time were to ever arise.

And the time does come. He’s underneath one with you, and you’re giving him a cheeky smile and he’s so nervous. His hands are clenching and unclenching, sweat is running underneath his mask and he wants to kiss- he’s even leaned down and resting his forehead against yours and he’s telling you to be quiet so he can think and he’s flinch when your hands tug on the bottom edge of his mask, whimper and whine and you’ll close the gap.

The kiss through the mask is sloppy. Its lips against fabric and his hands are hesitant around your waist, drumming along your clothes until they hold you tight and he’s breathing roughly through the mask and he’s jittery, bouncing his leg and he’ll pull away and take you somewhere private and he toys with the edge of his mask until your hands cover his and he’ll nod, letting your hands replace his and lift his mask past his lips.

Jin is so excited afterwards. He’s bouncing and wrapping you in a tight hug where he’ll spin you around, and just pepper kisses over your face until his mask is slipping past his lips and he’ll press a kiss against your forehead. He’s holding your hand and leading you around, sticking close to you and sharing a meal together where he’ll let his mask rise past his lips give you a quick peck before returning to his comfort object.

Dabi | T.T.:

Dabi finds the whole thing childish. He’ll participate, but he isn't exactly eager about it. He’ll roll his eyes, pull someone into the kiss, but that’s about it. He isn’t chasing you around, he isn’t forcing himself to move out of the way for a plant, if he rather not kiss, he’ll be upfront about it- a simple shove sends the message quite clear as he walks away without a second glance.

But then you’re under one- with someone else at that matter and he can’t help but narrow his eyes and stare. You wave our hands in a frantic motion, a nervous smile on your lips and he’s already peeling himself from the wall and walking towards you, only to be stopped when the other nods and offers a high-five. He stops midway and he just watches as you leave the spot and then you catch his eyes and you make your ways towards him, already hooking an arm through his and walking elsewhere.

For some reason, you both end up under one, he’ll stare blankly at it, slowly blinking and when he looks down, you have this devilish grin on your face, almost like you made sure you both stood under it and before he can accuse, your lips are against him, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down, a smile stretching your lips and hands that smooth over his chest.

The kiss is hesitant for a moment, still lips against yours, his breathing shaky with half-lidded eyes and rosy cheeks. He’ll pull away, glance around and pull you away as you laugh behind your hand. He pulls you somewhere quiet, and his breathing is ragged as he looks around for someone and when you’re about to call out his name, his lips are on yours. It’s fast and heavy, breathing roughly above you, hands that hold on too tight to your hips and a body that forces you against a wall as you cradle his face or play with his hair.

After the kiss, Dabi keeps you close to him, a sly smirk on his face as you’re sat either next to him or on his lap. His hand is threaded with yours, only leaving to press against the small of your back or when you grab onto him. He’ll tease lightly, act aloof and call you a great kisser but with the way his leg bounces, eyes that drift towards your lips, you can tell he’s a bit nervous, sticking close to you and staying relatively silent other than the occasional tease.

Iguchi Shuichi:

Shuichi is a nervous wreck when it comes to the plant. He’s never been under one due to spending his life in isolation and others perceiving him to not be conventionally attractive so he stays clear of them. He’ll walk under one normally, not trying to let something as small as an old tradition dictate his life but if he happens to be under one with someone else, he’s raising his shoulders a fraction and walking away without a glance spared.

He’s close to you- he stays near you enough for a conversation to happen but as he notices the plants strewn about, he starts to separate from you, inching further away, still sticking near you, of course. He doesn’t want to risk standing under one with you- the rejection would sting a bit too much this time. He lets his insecurities show- subconsciously covering his mouth with his hand as you near another decoration, nodding along and not really speaking to avoid showing his canines.

When you two happen to be found under one, he’s still. He keeps his hand curled over his mouth, claws scratching against his scales, and eyes that are wide with fear. He mutters how you don’t have to, a slight shake of his head and he’s already backing away until a flash of hurt flashes across your face and he lowers his hand and takes a step towards, and he’ll lean, soft and barely an inch but it’s his consent and he gasps when he feels your lips against his.

The kiss is shaky- lips meeting scales in a bit of an awkward kiss. He freezes under you, shrinking in on himself, his hands balled into fists. He’s warm, and smoothing out his hair once you pull away and there’s this nervous tick with him, his eyes shifting around, the constant, repetitive motions of him playing with his hair and lack of speaking that just becomes overwhelming and he’s grabbing your hand and dragging you away to either his room or somewhere isolated.

Shuichi is clingy. He’s holding your hand and looking away from you, knees pressed against his chest and he’s just talking about anything that comes into mind. As the conversation continues, he’ll inch closer to you, legs that lower until they’re parallel to you and once the conversation dims into a whisper, he’s nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and asking for a proper kiss.

Sako Atsuhiro:

Atsuhiro is actually eager to get under the mistletoe with you. He keeps you close to him, not wanting to let others get near you and take a kiss from you. He sort of drags you around the place, hand in yours as he looks for one.

It’s a cute tradition- he’ll admit. He likes the idea of showing his feelings to you with something bold. Or as bold as you can get. It’s enough to know that you also have to accept the kiss, that you more than likely share the feelings and he’s just turning corners trying to find one and wishing he had encased one in a marble beforehand to plant the damn thing. When he finds one, he’s acting nonchalant about it, slowing his steps and hooking his arm through yours and talking about the most mundane thing until you both land under the mistletoe.

The kiss is a teasing one. He’ll lean close to you, fan his breath across your lips, a hand that is light against the back of your head, curving over to hold you steady and his other hand holding you by the chin as he inches close to you and he’ll kiss your cheek. His grin is wide as he sees your disappointment- face flushed and eyes that were half-lidded that go wide and narrow and he can’t help the laugh that bubbles out.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness- telling you that he couldn’t help it- that he just got nervous and he backed down once he was too close. He’ll lower himself, hands mimicking the position from before and he takes a gulp of air before he kisses you, light and sweet, leaning towards you and pulling away with a grin, giving you another peck.

Atsuhiro will not leave your side. More than likely, he’ll pull you away somewhere secluded and just hold you close while he plays with your hands, the mask off, and he’ll ponder if he should remove the balaclava but stops when you lower your head against his shoulder and just play with his own hands, looking up at him and calling him mean, sealing the sentence with another kiss.

Shigaraki Tomura:

Tomura finds the whole thing pointless. Granted, a lot of the feelings stem from the fact that he’s never experienced one before but he doesn’t see the need to so he sneers at the plant and walks along. He doesn’t care for it and even if his heart does skip a beat when he sees you under one, it means nothing.

He won’t avoid it but he doesn’t seek it out either. He just walks along and then you see him and walk towards him, pointing out the plant and asking if he knows what it means and he’ll give a silent roll of his eyes. His hands will twitch and he’ll give you the once over when you’re not looking and he’s internally groaning.You seem to be walking somewhere, pulling him along by the sleeve of his shirt and you hold this too wide of a smile that makes his suspicious until you both stop and you point upwards to a mistletoe.

The kiss is soft for just a second- lips hesitant against yours, nothing more than feather light and he pulls away for a second, licking his lips, muscle brushing against your lips, catching a taste of your chapstick and then he’s onto you again, rough and holding you tight like he’d drift away if he weren’t. He holds you close, hands nudging past your shirt until his index and middle finger are against the warmth of your soft tummy.

He pulls away with a gasp for air, chest heaving and lowered against your shoulder, face burning as he realizes what he’s just done and he’s still, shoulders jumping and he’s mumbling an apology under his breath, his arms slowly wrapping around your, a hand clenching a fistful into your shirt while the other pinches at the fabric and he’ll breath a sigh of relief when you kiss at the crown of his head.

Tomura won’t do much for the rest of the day except keep you close by him and just spend the rest of the day with you. He’ll have his face buried in the crook of your neck as he lies above you, a hand intertwined with the occasional brush of his lips against your neck, brushing over the pulse and nestling deeper into you when you scratch his head. He’ll ask for another kiss- hesitant and below a whisper and when you nod, he’ll rise above and dip his head down, pulling you into a softer kisser.

Toga Himiko:

Himiko is the one who put the mistletoes up. She thought it would be a cute idea. She’s participated in the little tradition before she fled society and actually quite enjoyed it. She likes the idea of the romance, thinking it’s a cute way to confess feelings for someone so when you come around, she’s getting as many as she can and placing them around the building- kitchen, hallways, living areas- even closets on the off chance that you’ll be there.

She doesn’t force you to be under one but she will nudge you- asking you to get her a drink only to follow you immediately and stand under one only to shy away once she meets your eyes. She grows flustered under your stare, a heavy blush dusting at her cheeks and she presses her lips against the tip of your nose and runs off, hiding her face and sliding down a wall. She’ll more than likely get teased by the other members of the League- Jin and Stushiro, being the ones to give her a comforting pat on the pack.

The next time she sees you under a mistletoe, she’s hyping herself up and calmly walking over to you, only to grow giddy once you both stand under the plant. She’s not shy, she’s just worried you won’t want to kiss her back- which is fine- but it’ll hurt considering that she does like you a lot and a rejection is something she’ll be hurt by. She’ll stand in front of you, her hands pulling on the bottom of her cardigan, pulling on her sleeves until she has sweater paws and twiddling them around while she rocks back and forth on her heels.

It’s a meet-halfway type of kiss. You both lean in and meet. It’s short and sweet, a squeak leaving her lips and she’s smiling into the kiss, pulling away with a wide grin, and grabbing the sides of your face and pulling you into another kiss. She bounces on her heels and leans into you, her smile still evident on her face and once she pulls away, she’s holding onto both of your hands and dragging you along.

Himiko is extremely giddy after the kiss. Constant bouncing, a wide grin as she plays with your hands and sits on your lap or vice versa- she honestly doesn’t mind which one as long as you’re close to her. She’ll be nuzzled into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tight around you with interlaced fingers and with speckled kisses placed against your face.