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strangefable · 7 months

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thank you for the many, many tags over the past... let's not count the time. but thank you to everyone who's continued to tag me for wips <3 most recently @inafieldofdaisies, @direwombat, @adelaidedrubman, @cassietrn, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @trench-rot, and many many more, thanks so much to everyone who thinks of me <3

today, i have a little bit of the opening chapter of the atlanta prequel to share:

Micah slowed her bike. Wouldn't do to get pulled over for speeding. Not with what sat strapped to the bike behind her. She felt the hard, sharp edges even through the leather of her jacket. She could almost hear ticking in the back of her mind; that thing may as well have been a bomb.

Hell, a bomb would’ve been less unnerving.

She followed the monotone, mechanical voice in her ear as it directed her to the appointed address. She felt a twinge in her neck as she tried to look up to the top of the building. Dark, ominous, sharp. It was a vague shape in the dark night sky, but it still felt foreboding as she gazed upward.

She pulled her helmet off and shook her head, releasing her hair as well as the chill along her spine. She was just a mechanic, but she was not going to get intimidated by some slick, rich asshole too impatient for his coke to wait for a regular mule.

As she entered the lobby, she saw the sleek marble floors, the stark modern architecture. There were heavy plaques on the wall with mysterious names. An office. A swanky, high tower one. Ballsy place to take in a delivery like the one she carried.

A man behind the security desk eyed her suspiciously. She offered him her sweetest, doe-eyed smile. “Hi, I have a delivery for…” she glanced down at her phone, “Mr. Duncan.” She looked back up at the security guard, still smiling warmly.

He grunted, waved his hand toward the metal detector. “Of course he’s still here,” he muttered to himself, before meeting her gaze.” 38, top floor.”

She hesitated as she stared at the metal detector’s arch. She took a few slow steps toward it, wondering how sensitive it was. At least she didn’t have to explain a gun, since hers was locked safely at home.

The detector went off as soon as she stepped through. She winced and stepped back.

The guard gave her a knowing look. “What’re you carrying?”

She attempted another smile. “Just a knife. It—”

He smirked and waved a hand. “Yeah, you’re not the first. Most of the couriers have some kind of protection these days. Can’t be too careful.” He nodded her through, ignoring the alarm as it went off again.

She nodded and smiled. “Yeah. Thanks.” His casual attitude about the whole thing surprised her, but she wasn’t about to argue. She wanted to get this over with and get the fuck out of here.

The whole place reeked of wealth and prestige and it made her skin crawl. So much metal and isolation from a single natural thing. So cold and uniform. She hated shit like this. Not that she’d admit it aloud, but it made her ache for home.

The elevator stopped at the top floor, and Micah ducked out swiftly, grateful to escape the grating music that jangled her nerves even more. Why did the wealthy always have such bland taste in everything?

She entered another lobby, but straight ahead was a formidable wall with a list of large, brass-lettered names behind a block of marble that must’ve been a reception desk. The woman seated there had a strained look on her features as she glanced over at Micah. Instead of a greeting, she only offered a stony, questioning stare.

Micah made a small sound in her throat. “Uhm. I…I have a delivery for Mr. Duncan. Urgent, I was told.”

The woman’s eyes went glassy at the name, and her expression seemed to grow even tighter. “Of course. Down the hall, Fourth door on your left.” She pointed to a hallway to her right.

Micah nodded and followed the directions. The lighting was low everywhere, probably dimmed to save cost outside of normal business hours. She wondered what kind of business it was they did here, then she stopped herself. She didn’t want any details at all. “I’m just a mechanic, that’s all.” She mumbled softly as she came to a stop outside the large, solid wood door.

It was floor to ceiling and she felt a sudden urge to run anywhere else. Instead, she lifted her hand and rapped her knuckles against the wood.

“Yes?” The voice was smooth and sure, the barest edge of a threat beneath the word. Why did the image of a shark swerving beneath the water flash into her mind? She shook her head and pushed open the door.

“Delivery for Mr. Duncan.” It felt so stupid to say, but what the fuck else could she say? This was not her job. She would not let this become her job. She didn’t want the heat of being a mule; she’d made that abundantly fucking clear.

Yet here she stood.

“Come in.” The voice was clipped and cool, all business, but with an attempt at warmth. A small measure to pretend at civility, she supposed. She opened the door.

To her surprise, this room was not all sharp, sleek steel and concrete. It was lined everywhere with deep, rich wood. The scent of it filled her lungs, soothing, familiar. She blinked as her eyes took in the shelves lined with thick, heavy looking tomes. There was a wet bar taking up a whole wall, and it was where most of the room’s light came from.

That and the Tiffany lamp sitting on the gargantuan desk in the middle of the room.

A large, sleek, black, leather chairback greeted her. “You’re late.” The chair swiveled suddenly but soundlessly. A man with piercing blue eyes and a firm mouth stared at her. He peeked his fingers together in front of his face. One eyebrow lifted slightly as he took in the sight of her. “And you’re new.” A glint flashed in his eyes.

She narrowed her own. “No, I’m not. I’m doing a one time favor. Because, I’m told, you were very… insistent.”

His lips curved into a mirthless half smile. “Oh, is that how they phrased it?”

She snorted. “I could read between the lines. Not exactly anyone’s first choice to send a mechanic, but no one else was aw—available.” Her eyes darted away from his. “Mierda.” The whisper escaped her lips before she could stop herself. Shit. SHIT. She was saying too much.

She felt his eyes as he trailed them down her body. She felt them lingering around her curves, so easily displayed by her tight leathers. She shifted her weight and clutched her helmet closer to her body, as though it were a shield. A poor one, but what else did she have?

When she looked up again, she found his eyes staring directly into hers. His expression was unreadable as he forced his gaze on hers. She resisted the urge to clear her throat or look away. Something in his eyes reminded her of the predators she’d faced in the backcountry. You don’t look away from a predator when it’s sizing you up, so she steeled her nerves and met his gaze, her lips pressed thin and straight.

He smiled. Tight. Sharp. Too feline to be real, despite the straight, glaring whiteness of his teeth. It was a smile meant to disarm, but she knew better. “They have been rather… less than satisfactory of late. I’ve been considering exploring other avenues.” His eyes looked her up and down once more. “However, I might be amenable to changing my opinion.” As his eyes met hers again, the weight of his meaning settled heavy on her shoulders.

She shrugged slightly. “That’s above my pay grade. I’m just here to give you what you ordered.”

He ignored the package she held out to him. “You’re not curious?” He took a step toward her. His hand lifted, but instead of the package, he slipped his fingers around her wrist.

She shook her head. “They don’t pay me for that.”

“What do they pay you for?” Another step closer. His fingers tightened. His other hand rose to rest lightly against her waist.

tagging onwards (no pressure at all ever <3) @ivymarquis, @v0idbuggy, @derelictheretic, @henbased, @redreart, @wrathfulrook, @confidentandgood, @damejudyhench, @florbelles, @jillvalentinesday, @marivenah, @harmonyowl, @unholymilf, @shallow-gravy, @g0dspeeed, @strafethesesinners, @fourlittleseedlings, @voidika, @foibles-fables, @chazz-anova, @josephseedismyfather, @turbo-virgins, @roofgeese, @i-am-the-balancing-point, @poisonedtruth, @simplegenius042, @incognito-insomniac, @dumbassdep, @theelderhazelnut, @legally-a-bastard, @aceghosts and anyone i still have managed to miss in this list. (also if you don't want me tagging you, drop me an ask or a dm and no questions will be asked <3) edit: trying to fix tags.

#it is always so hard to know which pieces to share and where to cut into the full story #i had forgotten how difficult those choices are to make agh #anyway here is part of the beginnings of what happened in atlanta and how john and micah first met #i am loving writing this story again #hopefully that is enough tags to keep me out of any sitewide searches now #micah hale #ship: our sins make you mine #fablemade #strangefable writes #wip wednesday #if that doesn't work and this still just... i will delete everything #possibly my whole blog idk #not feeling great any more tonight

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redrobin-detective · 11 months

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Cloudmates

Zuko had felt alone most of his life.

He didn’t have many friends growing up in the palace, mostly leeching off the ones Azula brought home from school. Azula was a nightmare to talk to, you never knew what she was thinking and every word was a potential weapon in her arsenal. Father certainly didn’t make him feel like he belonged. Even Uncle, for all his patience and kindness, sometimes seemed to look past Zuko, to the man he could be rather than the scared kid he was. Mother had been the only one who seemed to truly see Zuko. The best parts of his childhood were spent describing whatever interest of the moment he had while his mother combed his hair and encouraged him to continue. He’d never felt more comfortable, happy and free as he had in those small, simple moments. Once she left, there really wasn't anyone Zuko felt comfortable being himself with.

Even when his father made him the most recognizable person in the world, Zuko had never felt more invisible. He dug into the hurt of his wounds, both physical and emotional, and put up the front everyone was expecting of the banished prince on an impossible mission. He felt like an actor in a play, playing a part he hadn’t rehearsed and wasn’t prepared for. The more he tried to mold himself into the kind of prince his father wanted of him, the more he wanted to claw out of his own skin.

Leaving the Fire Nation and joining the Avatar wasn’t supposed to change anything. He felt more settled, more sure that he was finally on the right path but he still felt like a puppet in someone else’s story. Zuko was prepared to do his duty to the world by training the Avatar before retreating back to solitude. He wasn’t prepared for Sokka.

It started with swords. Sokka had been incredibly unsubtle in his admiration of them from the moment Zuko had joined the group. He’d probably thought the blades had just been for show and thought it would be funny to see an ashmaker clumsily try to use them. Zuko will admit to a bit of cruel satisfaction when he thoroughly trounced Sokka in their spar. The feeling didn’t last, it made him feel too much like Azula. Luckily, Sokka didn’t take the loss badly. In fact, he looked downright ecstatic.

From that point on, it wasn’t unusual to see Sokka eagerly bouncing on the sidelines as he waited for Aang’s firebending lessons to conclude. Zuko thought he would be annoyed at the intrusion on his time but instead he found himself almost looking forward to it. And if he ended Aang’s training early a few times, well, he doubted the young monk was bothered by it.

Working together and almost dying at the Boiling Rock was what really cemented their relationship. Now it wasn’t just swords, Sokka seemed to come to him for everything. They talked constantly, about anything and everything. Zuko thinks he spoke more over a few days in that temple than he ever did in his weeks back at the palace. Just when he’d thought he’d run out of words or opinions, Sokka would ask another question and more would pour out.

The water tribe boy was creative and filled with ideas from the bombastic to the mundane. Zuko was a living furnace, stubborn and was pretty decent at physics and calculations. It didn’t take long for them to start supplementing their discussions with tools and inventions. He’d always done things for grand purposes, the idea of just fiddling with pieces of junk while talking seemed an insane waste of time. Zuko loved it.

When he was with Sokka, Zuko felt both smarter and more stupid than he’d ever been. The best part was he didn’t even care which was which.

“We’re - I’m so, so sorry,” Zuko apologized, shaking and fully prepared to beg for mercy on his hands and knees. Sokka was still partially stuck to the wall as Aang and Toph tried to free him, leaving Zuko the unenviable task of preventing Katara from killing them. Katara had gotten more lenient of him since he’d first joined but he didn’t want to test his luck. She was frowning, her lips pressed tightly together as she tried using her bending to pull at the sticky tangle of goop he and Sokka had made out of her hair. To be honest, in the later half of the experiment, he’d plain forgotten what it had been for in the first place.

“You-” she snapped before taking a deep breath and calming herself. “It’s fine,” she said through gritted teeth that said nothing about the situation was fine. “I know this is mostly Sokka’s handiwork. I’ve had to deal with his nonsense my whole life, you’re just helping make the explosions bigger.”

Zuko winced as Katara turned herself away from him. “You know, Sokka has been the oldest boy in our tribe for years since our men went to war. Plus Sokka has always been a bit, well, you know how he is. Until we left the South Pole, he’d never really had any other guys his age to do his weird things with.”

“What about Aang?” Zuko blinked, confused by the non sequitur. Was he going to be made into an ice kabob or not? He needed to ask Sokka what they’d been making before he could die.

“Oh Sokka loves Aang but Aang isn’t going to help him use my best cooking pot to make some sort of spirit blasted nightmare goo,” Katara sighed roughly. “You're off the hook today, just keep my idiot brother safe and please try to tone down, whatever it is you two are always getting up to.”

Zuko didn’t understand the interaction. He asked Sokka about it who also didn’t seem to understand it. They talked at length, again, about crazy prodigy younger sisters. Then Sokka started questioning where they went wrong with their concoction. They sat and worked through the problem until Angi’s blessing could be seen cresting over the horizon.

All too soon, the comet was upon them and the war was over. Zuko knows it was incredibly, horribly selfish of him to say that he wished it could have gone on just a little bit longer. For the first time he had friends; he felt safe and seen in their company. There had never been someone like Sokka in his life - not since his mother - but he wouldn’t dream of talking to mom about some of the things he’d told Sokka.

Zuko had whispered to the other boy his deepest fears, his regrets, the sources of his shame and pain. He’d told stories he’d never spoken aloud and it was like purging his body of poison, painful but necessary. Zuko had presented all of his weaknesses on a platter for Sokka to abuse and instead got understanding, some very angry tears on his behalf and trust to hold Sokka’s own secrets. It felt so freeing to place so much of himself in another person’s hands and to have it be protected instead of broken.

The first week after the comet was filled with joy and anxiety as they celebrated a world without war while also struggling to actually end the war. He worked tirelessly during the day, sending out letters and pulling back troops and letting Katara heal him at night. Throughout everything, his friends were always close at hand. It was the most peace Zuko had ever felt in his entire life. He could have lived in those small moments forever. If he’d known it could be like this, he’d have defected the first moment he’d landed at the South Pole.

Of course, nothing good ever stayed for long with Zuko. Aang had Avatar duties, Toph was obligated to see her parents and the Water Tribe siblings needed to get back to their slowly rebuilding tribe. Zuko’s heart ached at the thought of seeing them leave, of being alone again. He loved them all in their own way but Zuko could admit that he would miss Sokka most of all. Besides Uncle, he was probably Zuko’s most treasured person.

On the morning they were planning to leave, Zuko was walking down the long hallways of his empty palace. He was bracing himself for the pain and loneliness that was to come. He should have known better than to get attached but he had always been a slow learner. His main goal was to avoid crying until after they were airborne.

“Hey Fire Lord Jerkbender,” Sokka grinned, flinging an arm around Zuko’s shoulder. He still wasn’t all that used to friendly touch but Sokka always seemed to be the exception. He leaned into it, savoring it before the long goodbye he didn’t know when he’d see the end to. “I hope you’re ready for some tears because Aang is absolutely gonna start crying which will set Katara off and they’ll just become a big puddle. Toph will get punchy and Suki will make the whole thing way more intense than it needs to be. It’s gonna take forever, might even be pushed back to lunch and we’ll have to do it all over again.”

“And what about you?” Zuko asked casually, like he didn’t care. Not at all.

“I want to say I’ll be big and tough and act like it doesn’t affect me,” Sokka shrugged with the arm wrapped around Zuko’s shoulder. “But Katara and I have never been separated for more than a few days since we were born and Aang and Toph have basically become my younger siblings who I would literally die to protect and I know Suki is coming back but-”

“Sokka, what are you talking about?” Zuko asked, shooting him a look. “You’re going with.”

“Oh uh no, I was actually planning on staying with you, here in the Fire Nation.” Zuko gaped at him and Sokka scratched at his hair sheepishly. “The others know which is why this is gonna drag out and I’m only now realizing I forgot to talk to you about it so uh, hey, can I crash at your stupidly big palace for a while? If, uh, that’s okay with you?”

Zuko ought to scream for joy, sequester Sokka deep in the palace before he could change his mind. If he wasn’t already in the process of returning all the lands his family had conquered, he’d offer them to Sokka right now just to keep him here.

“Don’t you want to go home? See your family?” He asked instead because more than anything, he just wanted his friend to be happy.

“I mean yeah and I will but Zuko, I can’t leave you here to run a country all by yourself. You’re a fancy dancy firebender but you missed out on the fine art of politics-bending,” Sokka said with a little smirk. “I miss things about home but it seems, I don’t know, kinda small now after all I’ve seen. I can’t just go back to making ice forts and penguin sledding like none of this ever happened. Besides, it would feel wrong being there without my sword bending partner, inventing buddy, human heat pack and best friend?”

“I’m your best friend?” Zuko asked quietly.

“Well yeah,” Sokka blushed. “Like the world leader stuff is cool and important but I’m really just staying for you. Don’t tell Toph this but you’re kind of my favorite member of Team Avatar.”

Zuko’s goal is thoroughly on fire. He didn’t even get to the goodbyes before he started crying.

They celebrate the one year anniversary of Ozai’s defeat in Ba Sing Se. It had been hard to make arrangements for everyone to be here but it had been worth it. In the back of the Jasmine Dragon was a small, well maintained garden for outdoor seating on nice days. They’ve moved all the tables aside and were sprawled on the grass, sitting around a fire pit. Just like the good old days, only better.

Sokka had been telling an overly exaggerated story about Fire Sage Reijiro’s reaction to catching Sokka trying to steal scrolls from the Dragon Bone Catacombs. He was lounging in Zuko’s lap; he expertly dodged Sokka’s flailing hands as he told his story, coaxing bigger laughs out of his audience.

“I still have no idea how you smooth talked your way out of that,” Zuko sighed at the end. “I thought I was gonna have to send you back to the South Pole extra crispy.” Everyone laughed at that. Sokka had taught him how to tell jokes now, one of the many things he’d learned over the past year.

“You know, Zuko,” Aang said with a thoughtful smile, “I think you and Sokka are cloudmates.”

“Huh?” Zuko and Sokka asked at the same time. He gently brushed aside some loose strands of hair from Sokka’s face so it didn’t get in his eye.

“Is this a romance thing because I know I’m rather impressive but I don’t know if I have what it takes to make an honest man of the Fire Lord,” Sokka said with an eye roll. Zuko flicked his ear.

“I mean it can be,” Aang said, leaning back to look at the pink clouds floating above them. “It’s… How do I explain? Sometimes when you look up at the clouds, you can’t tell one from the other. They become so blended that it eventually becomes just one big cloud. Cloudmates are people who are made of the same stuff, who get along so easily, so naturally it’s like one person in two bodies.” The rest of them blinked and also started looking at the heap of clouds.

“I’m intrigued,” Sokka nodded, stroking at his chin. “State your evidence for the court, Avatar.”

“I don’t know if you can have evidence for this sort of thing, you just feel it,” Aang shrugged. “I guess I first thought you guys might be as far back as the Western Air Temple. I mean, you did kinda try and steal away my firebending teacher, Sokka. After all this time, seeing you two more, I think I’m certain now. You’re your own person, with unique ideas and experiences but you’re also something else, something better, together. You’re not just Sokka or Zuko but you’re also Zuko&Sokka.” Aang continued.

“I mean we all are made up of the same bits, bone and blood and squishy organs,” Sokka frowned thoughtfully, his eyes flicking up to Zuko’s. “What do you think, Your Royal Fieriness? Is my cloud all mixed up with your cloud?”

Zuko wasn’t sure he was a cloud. He’d been a victim, a prince, a traitor, a teacher and the biggest idiot the world had ever seen. He’d felt like he’d been so many things in so little time, too much of him and his shame piling up to fit into one person. But to think he was something like Sokka, by far one of the cleverest, bravest, kindest people he’d known, maybe there was hope for him yet.

“I suppose,” Zuko said flippantly, “that your cloud and my cloud may intermingle but only if you promise when you get back to the South Pole that you will prepare a room for me. As Fire Lord, I need to see for myself that diplomatic matters with my fellow nations are being handled correctly.” He grinned down at his friend. “I will need to speak to someone important about reparations and moving forward. Know someone who can work with me?”

“Oh, I think I know a guy,” Sokka laughed back. Overhead, the pink dusted clouds gently moved past in a big pile, separate but intrinsically linked.

#my writing #oof welcome back to atla writing brain its been 5 years #dumb ficlet that dropped into my head at work and I could NOT get rid of #I have Aangs search circling my head like water down the drain #I had to write it #It can be romantic or platonic Zukka #I just think they are such a great duo and are actually quite similiar underneath it all #a cloudmate is a mix of like a soulmate and bestie #just someone who is your other half in everything #not sure how good this is #dont feel like reviewing any more tonight #I'll look at it again in a few days see if it worth AO3

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imwritesometimes · 10 months

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the "I already bought tickets to go see Indy again next week" moodboard

#actually factually finalized the purchase it's happening same seats and everything lmfao #I am being very irritating abt this I'm not sorry I had so much fun today and I loved this movie to bits #and I'm so happy this is how we as fans get to close Indy's adventures like.#it didn't just feel like half-hearted fan service bullshit it was really well done which I'll be honest #I was not expecting. there are def call backs of course to the previous films #but it didn't feel like heavy handed or cheap #they really did a good job of like. making it feel authentic like. not just a shitty rehash idk for me #it felt like. so appropriate. like he's an old man now. time has passed. they don't just like wallpaper over that #it just has idk so much heart. like the old og movies it's fantastical but there's so much heart #idk I really liked it. it felt like watching the old ones. the old ones had so much heart. that's why you loved indy!#he was a smart ass but he was earnest too and he had heart and he cared and like ahhhhhhhhhh!!!#it's just. idk idk idk I feel like it's such a great close to the adventures for massive Indy nerds like myself #lmao I asked my mom tonight like when was the last time you watched any of the movies #cause you mught wanna rewatch before we go #and she was like well it has been a while cause you don't live here anymore #and I was like I know. I'm never like six months removed from the last time I watched an Indy #and she was like I know it's your religion I know #I just. I loved it. a lot. I really did. as a massive Indy nerd I really did just enjoy it a lot. more than kotcs #but I firmly believe w/o kotcs it wouldn't have been so fuckin good like omg #erin explains it all

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snikt111 · 29 days

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isnt it so funny to watch all the people you thought liked you form better relationships with everyone elss but you

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scattered-winter · 10 months

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horrifying self recognition through the other aside this has been an actually not terrible start to The Family Gathering tbh

#my cousin who i havent really seen in a while came up to me and asked abt my pronouns because i came out to the fam a while ago #and he didnt really remember what id said (which. fair. its a big family w lots of things to remember)#and so he asked what my pronouns were and i told him and he promised that if he ever messed up i needed to make him #do like 5 or 10 pushups lmao #and ngl. its the sweetest thing anyone in this family has ever said to me abt that #everyone else has kinda just. moved on. and either forgotten that im not a girl or purposefully ignoring it.#and idk maybe i should stand up for myself a little more but ive been practically a doormat all my life #and idk. its hard using my voice and establishing boundaries when ive let ppl bulldoze over me for almost 20 years.#sigh. anyway.#im gonna be thinking about that all day tbh it was genuinely so sweet #and i am also being consumed by The Loneliness again <3 #just. i want someone to just talk to about all this??? someone who isnt in my family because they all have stakes in it too?????#we're all grieving. i aint special.#i just want to talk to someone about it in person so they can hold my hand while i cry myself to sleep because ngl #thats what it looks like we're doing tonight #im just. tired of feeling alone in this enormous family where it seems like im the only odd man out #and also ykw the Not Having Any Irl Friends loneliness too. thats also pretty significant.#not saying my internet friends arent great i love yall so so so much but it has just been .#a really really long time since ive had a good cry n hug session w someone.#sigh. im tired i need to go to bed #winter speaks #personal

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voiceshearingyouloud · 3 months

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Me when my life is trauma and mental illness all the way down but I am determined to make something good of it in the end

#I’m in such a weird spot right now because I can barely remember anything positive that’s ever happened in my life #every time I look back on any year I just see all the pain. and there has been lots of pain #and I know logically there was joy or happiness or something positive or I would’ve killed myself a long time ago #but I can’t remember it at all and my brain is trying to convince me I should kill myself now so I can escape the pain #if my life is just going to continue being pain #I know it’s not true. there’s been joy in my life before and there will be again but everything just hurts so bad #I don’t know how long I can keep going for #but even if I quit my job or drop out of school I’ll have to stay with my parents and that makes me want to kill myself more #in fact maybe that’s what’s making me so suicidal. staying with them now is not triggering my hypervigilance but it is making me flashback #to every trauma I’ve ever had much more often than usual #I’m not myself right now and I need to remember that there is a me to get back to #maybe I’ll go out tonight and remember I’m not destined be stuck in my parent’s house for the rest of my life #anne speaks #like. I realise that yeah I’ve had a great deal of pain in my life (I don’t mean to be navel gazing and also I have been super privileged in #a lot of ways but also ten mental illness and child abuse and ptsd three times over is a little excessive I think)#but there was joy before and there will be joy again! even if I’m exhausted I’m gonna hold on like I always have and one day I’ll be #glad I did #it sounds and feels trite but it’s happened before and it won’t be trite when it’s true #tw suicidality #tw suicide mention

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todayisafridaynight · 11 months

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confession: sometimes I come to look at your art as references because you have noted details like moles + looking at what colors u put down in my quest to find what something looks like under neutral lighting I know the shit here has been thoroughly researched

i will be normal upon learning this news.

#fave #snap chats #JUST KIDDINGLAKJVKLE I CANT EVEN MAKE A FUNNYMAN™️ COMMENT THAT'S SUCH AN HONOR THANK YOU SO MUCH #especially when i'm such a fan of your own work... i love your lighting and shading and how Shaped everyone is so much...#just the FEEL yk i cant explain it but your art just feels super great to look at..#the funniest thing bout being sent this today is ironically i was gonna make more 'model sheets' for myself like how i did with y2 daigo #dunno why i just felt compelled to do so.. just so i could draw bitches without having to think ACTUAL Rotating Like An SSBB Trophy moment #except this one i'd make more note heavy..... cause idk i always wanted to do that tbh..#if my arm didnt hurt i probably would ☠️ maybe tomorrow or if im too stubborn later tonight i will ☠️☠️#but wow... again thank you that means a lot. new favorite compliment achieved thank you...#i do spend hours looking at these bitches so im glad. im glad thats apparent i pay attention 😫#in truth i dont even draw EVERY mole on every character- daigo is esp awkward because his moles change throughout games #the moles i draw are specifically for the ps3 era/y3-75 #he has different moles in the dragon engine- they're actually on the right side of his face opposed to the left: theyre entirely different #AND IM GOBSMACKED BOUT THE COLORS BIT people tell me my colors are nice but its still ?? for me to acknowledge that sometimes #like not BAD OF COURSE NO NO IM REALLY HAPPY im just.. hm... i didnt think i was doing anything nice..#in any case again. thank you. ive made it clear this is a big compliment I Will Can It now ☠️

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lesbianlotties · 5 months

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literally not my fault that i dont have a journal or therapy so you all have to see me oversharing on tumblr dot com

#tough tough night tonight folks!#blog like no one is watching right?#im going to sound so overdramatic and dumb but i neeed to share and fuck it it's my silly tumblr blog #it's just been a really rough couple of hours? days? months? years?#it's this stupid day it was my cousin's bday and as if i havent been jealous of her since she was baby she's always too fucking perfect #she looks perfect and she had this big nice party with more friends than I've ever had at any point in my life and it just makes you think #like at this point it Has to be something wrong with me right?#what does it say about me that i havent kept a single friend in 25 years? no one stays longer than what? 4-5 years?#i have to believe the only reason my one last friend and online friends still stand me it's because it's at a distance #and dont get me started on the love department bc no they dont like me like that no one ever wants me like that I've never #I've never liked anyone that likes ne back or that i have a serious cjance with and who cares if romantic love isn't everything the point is #that if you want it and everyone but you get it starts to feel so so so bad #okay I'll shut up now dont worry about me im holding on for dear life to the precious little handful of nice things in my life bc they are #they are fucking great #but i needed to have a pity party for a bit okay byeeee

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medicinemane · 5 months

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My stomach sounds like some manner of beast right now, just kind of "mhhhrmmhhbbhh"ing, like some sort of creature snuffling and grumbling

#it may in fact shock you that a single potato did not in fact fill me up #but that's what was on offer tonight #and... and between there not being a lot that I'm up to scavenging in the first place and my stomach not making me feel great...#kinda makes it hard to feel like trying to track down something to eat #what I wouldn't give to have like... a dozen big hamburgers and a spinach or romaine type salad #doubt I could eat it; but it's what I'm feeling like might actually get me out of food deficit if I did manage to eat it all #I don't want sweets; I want food; but my mom loves using her money to pick up sweets and it's like...#a couple really nice quality burgers... even... 2... maybe 4 if we're honest; that's what I'd love #maybe a classic style; a bbq one; something with some spicy peppers on it; and then... surprise me with the last one; just no tomatoes #(and only good quality lettuce; you can put it on there but only if it isn't iceburg)#if only if only if only... if only I had a fuck ton of money or if only I had the skills to make that for myself #man I could go for some food right now... just a burger; that's what I'm really craving #like I said; that sausage patty earlier just made me hungrier so I feel like I need meat #and I fucking know all those SEO articles always say there's no way you need more protein in fact you're getting too much #but I just... I want just a massive amount of meat; a mountain of it... or fuck; don't care; you get me whatever it is in it that I'm wanti #and you put it in a vegan form I don't care... I just want whatever it is I'm wanting; and it's taking the form of burgers #Just like... if I had like 50 burgers in the fridge and I could heat one up any time I was hungry #I might actually be full for once after like a week (and maybe out of burgers)#I know I'm better off than most people; I know I'd be fine if I just wasn't so stupid and lazy #but I'm so fucking hungry and have been all my life #a decent meal that comes around more than once a month (that it's rare it comes around that often)#what an amazing idea; you know?#that month where I'd bought that like month of $1 big burger coupons for smashburger... that was maybe the one time I was almost full #only meal of the day most of the days... but fuck... one big burger every day is at least something

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randomwriteronline · 1 year

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"Do you have rice at home?"

What a weird question. Emmet turned to Briosa and nodded, an eyebrow crooked up to make a confused expression.

Why?, he signed.

She shrugged over the back of her seat: "You know," she replied vaguely, not answering, and added: "Do you have butter, shredded cheese?"

Emmet nodded again, more puzzled.

"Mushrooms?"

He shook his head. She clicked her tongue.

"Zucchini?"

That he did have, yes.

Briosa hummed loudly.

"Do you have broth cubes?" she asked. Her hand rose from beneath her chin and made a gesture as if holding something small between her index and thumb: "Like the uh, the ones that you put in boiling water and it makes stock broth?"

Did he have those?

He shook his head, struggling to find the right signs: Broth... Powder.

"Oh, that's still fine."

You... Need? Thing?, he asked. The vagueness was tiring him out more than the already long day had.

Briosa hummed for a long while.

"Are you hungry?" she didn't answer.

Emmet raised a hand to give an exhausted half-half gesture.

"Same," she replied - which was strange, because according to Briosa she was never hungry. She turned off the last computer still on: "Let's go."

Home sounded awful. Home sounded empty and soulless. Home sounded like Crustle yelling because he had missed feeding time by 1 minute and already trying to rip open the food cabinet to forcefully get his supper like a big cement baby, and that did make him chuckle a little and give him the strength to be on his way.

His head pulsed a bit. Mawile must have been as tired as him, because Briosa held her in her arms like a little kid as they walked down the street at a pace that was clearly not up to the shorter man's standards.

Emmet yawned. Goodness. So tired.

Briosa skipped a little at his side.

"There's some foods you absolutely cannot eat at dinner," she began unprompted, but her squeaky voice was a welcome distraction from the noisy quiet, "Not because there's some actual rule - technically there is but I call bullshit on that, it's all food - but because they're so heavy on the stomach that if you do eat them you'll be dreaming of green Raticate and pink Donphants like you got five shots of ketamine before bed."

His head snapped to face her with eyes wide from vague concern.

"I don't actually know if that's what ketamine does, I've never had it," she added, oblivious to his look.

"That's not how you pronounce that," Emmet managed to deadpan.

Mawile translated him sleepily.

Briosa turned to face him, the corners of her otherwise perfectly straight mouth pointed downwards and her forehead creased in puzzlement: "Pronounce what?"

"Ketamine," he replied - the last syllable making a 'meen' sound.

"Ketamine?" she repeated - the last sillable making a 'mine' sound, like the possessive pronoun or the place where miners work.

"Keh-tah-meen," he sounded out carefully so that she could easily read his lips.

Her brows furrowed over her crooked nose: "Ketameen?" she said correctly with a tinge of disgust. Being treated with a nod, she scoffed: "That sounds stupid. It's not a 'meen'-ending word, it sounds too stupid. It could be if it ended in 'a' but otherwise it sounds way too silly for me. I'm gonna keep calling it ketamine."

"That's wrong."

"Well, it sounds better."

Whatever makes her happy.

Emmet blinked heavily.

"Why are we talking about ketamine?" he muttered. The streetlights were too bright.

"We aren't," Briosa replied as soon as Mawile had translated him in sign. "I'm just trying to keep you awake and you derailed the conversation with what is the right way to pronounce ketamine."

"I am awake," he mumbled back.

"Are you?"

He showed her his tongue - immediately covering it with his hand. An awfully unprofessional thing to do: Briosa wasn't Elesa, even though her name ended with the same syllable, and as far as he knew they weren't quite considerable friends.

How had he even thought of confusing them enough for a mistake in etiquette like that? They were nothing alike, in looks and sound.

The substitute didn’t seem that bothered, proceding without a care: “Is it ok if I ask you for some food for my lads while I’m at yours? I’ll pay you back. It’s just because otherwise they’re gonna eat at 2 AM.”

Emmet nodded without really paying attention; only when the words swam from his ears into his brain and began being digested did he narrow his eyes and stop right where he stood.

He turned and looked behind himself.

Briosa only noticed his sudden stillness after a dozen or so steps, when Mawile pointed her back to the flabbergasted man in the middle of the street.

“You good?” she asked.

He pointed to the direction from which they had come silently, in deep thought. He blinked, then finally turned back to her.

“This isn’t the way to your house,” he noted.

“It’s not.”

The matter-of-fact tone didn't help.

"Why aren't you? On the way home?"

"I'm following you."

"Why are you following me?"

"I'm going to your house."

"You're coming to my house?"

"I'm coming to your house."

"Why are you coming to your- my house?"

"To cook you rice with zucchini."

"Why?"

"For dinner."

Emmet took a moment to pause and ruminate on all that.

"Did we agree on, on that? That you were... Coming to my house to cook?" he asked, because he genuinely didn't remember if they had.

"No."

Ah. Made sense.

A slow roundhouse kick that was probably meant as gentle (and while it did not send him hurtling across the street, it was still imbued with a discreet amount of strength that made him wobble on his unsteady knees) hit him with the back of the foot square in the ass and propelled him forward a little bit.

"Come on, let's go," the man (when had she gotten back at his side?) egged him on, much like a father dragging his noisy tired child out of the supermarket by an arm with as much vague kindness as possible: "You're sleeping on your feet like a Rapidash and you need to get some food in you."

He was too tired to complain or make a comment about that first part, and could not argue with the second.

He was really hungry.

Excadrill seemed perplexed when Briosa snuck under his arm as soon as the door was opened and made a beeline towards the kitchen, but Emmet just waved a hand, letting her know all was fine.

“She’s helping,” he told her with a yawn: “Said she’ll make dinner.”

The Steel mole looked back at the room the small vaguely antropomorphized Electrode had disappeared inside of, not very certain whether or not leaving someone like that in the vicinity of gas outlets, fire, sharpened blades and various more or less dangerous tools at her whims’ disposal; but she did consider, turning once more to the man trying to slip his shoes off while Archeops was nibbling at his wrist to shake him out of his tardiness, that was a risk she was willing to take if it meant her ward would eat before collapsing into uneasy sleep.

Footsteps stampeded heavily all the way back out of the kitchen, and Briosa appeared from the doorframe.

"I don't know where anything is," she said very flatly.

The light that came from the room hit the side of her frame, almost painting a yellow line where it landed, making her look something akin to incomprehensible in the dim sorroundings.

Emmet managed to blink slowly.

"I did find the refrigerated foods and knife and the tap water," she continued as if to reassure him she wasn't a complete cretin, "But I don't know where anything else is and I thought maybe I shouldn't slam open all the cabinets of some house that's not mine to find the rice jar."

Her boss raised a finger in the air to ask her to wait a moment; he stood slowly, heavily, and wobbled on his socked feet over to her.

He didn't have a rice jar, but he did have a box of rice, as well as a rice cooker. He provided Briosa with a pot, some oil and a plate at her request: she struggled to pour the grains into her small palm six, eight times, each fistiful dropped in the plate, cursing softly in what seemed like gibberish, and he watched her absolutely transfixed by the motion and sound similar to rain.

Something vaguely pinchy pulling at his leg snapped him out of it.

"Durant," he assumed as he croaked without looking, leaning down a big to pet lightly something vaguely metallic but not at all like his Bug's carapace, "I'll get dinner. Hold on."

A tongue clicked loudly while he reached for the pantry under the silverware that held the Pokémon food, and a large blackish mass delicately helped him get the bags out. Mawile's large mouth was a little clumsy, since the stem connecting it to the back of her head was quite thin, so Emmet ended up reciprocating her help to save her some of the strain.

Above himself he could hear the gas sparking into fire on the stove.

He nudged Briosa with an elbow to get her attention while remaining crouched - it was a little surreal to be looking up at her as he signed: Zucchini?

"Water," she replied. "I need to boil it. Also I think we forgot the broth powder."

Why boil?

"For the rice."

Sitting on his knees so he could peek over the counter, he pointed at the rice cooker; she looked at it, then turned back to him with a completely blank expression.

Rice cooker, he explained.

"Ah," she replied, and made no motion towards it.

For cooking rice, he continued.

"Yeah, I figured." Briosa checked around the station for a moment more: "Hm, yep, we missed the broth powder."

His brows furrowed: Why powder?

"For the rice. You gotta boil the rice in broth to cook it."

Emmet blinked: Rice cooker, he repeated.

Briosa blinked: "Hm," she noted.

Her boss pointed back to the utensil.

Use rice cooker.

"I don't know how to use that."

I teach you.

"That's gonna take longer than just letting me boil the rice," she waved her hand, her stoat fingers grazing his nose with a certain resolution to the movement that told him not to worry: "I know what I'm doing. You do what you gotta and try not to fall asleep. If you need me to do something or you gotta tell me something just punt your elbow on my shoulder."

Might hurt.

Briosa smiled, toothy grin not nearly as terrifying as usual: "You're a wet noodle when fully awake," she laughed, sounding like a repeatedly squeezed rubber Ducklett: "You won't hurt me."

Then she turned to wash the zucchini a bit in the sink, humming something. Mawile slowly dragged a bag out of the kitchen, struggling a bit; Emmet carefully placed the powdered broth next to the stove where it could be easily seen and raised the other end of the heavy sack to help the little Fairy bring it all the way over to the livingroom, others following behind them in mid air, held floating in the air by Chandelure's helpful Psychic - to keep it away from Crustle’s impatient grabby claws as well.

It took him a hot moment to realize he would have needed seven more bowls (the other twelve already fetched by their respective owners, thankfully); he then also realized that other than Mawile, the six guests were not actually there.

Briosa was chopping a zucchini very slowly and heavily when he came in to ask her for her team, which sat in their Pokéballs on their counter a little closer to the kitchen door. Emmet saw it fit to collect them without bothering her, noting distractedly that she seemed to be singing and deciding, against his will, to listen in.

“... Amministra-zio-ne, e liquida-zio-ne, rateizza-zio-ni anti-previden-zial - misura came-ra-le, calcolo dell’IR-PES, scarico dell’I-VA, misura cata-stal...”

The tempo of her chopping increased to a horrendous degree immediately after as she vocalized quietly; Emmet watched her cut through the vegetable with admirable technique and fury for a moment more before deciding he did not want to have her turn around a little too fast and get that blade flying right in his eye socket, and went right back to the livingroom where his brother’s Bug was starting to scream his little bulbous eyes off in hunger.

Knowing full well how big, bulky, destructive and aggressive ‘the lads’ could be in battle, he was somewhat surprised to see their politeness outside of their Pokéball when he first released them. Their sizes did cause bit of a stirrup, especially among those who hadn't seen them before, and Emolga's heavily deformed scarred grin certainly did not put anybody at ease - but Seismitoad croaked very gently, as a kind greeting, and Bisharp bowed in an incredibly courteous manner; Klinklang did seem a little more than uneasy at the sight of Heatmor, trying to scoot behind Excadrill and to drag the much more relaxed Durant with it, but the Fire type seemed just as scared of the hunk of metal as he hid behind the only lady of the team.

Speaking of Conkeldurr - the poor girl was trying her hardest to shrink in her shoulders as soon as she noticed where she was, eyeing co-workers and new curious faces with a sheepish kind of apprehension, large rough hands playing with one another.

"Hello," Emmet welcomed them too tired to stop Boldore from running into the newcomers repeatedly. "I live here. You eat here tonight."

Cryogonal made a horrifying sound not too far from Candelure' worst cough.

He gave her a thumbs up: "Yes."

It struck him very suddenly that roughly three out of six out of Briosa’s team effectively could have been considered full ass human people by size, and that while one of them was indeed an enormous bulbous frog he should have probably just let Conkeldurr and Bisharp sit on the couch.

It also struck him that Cryogonal (from whom Haxorus was inching away) was a pure Ice type.

“We don’t...” he muttered, turning around to check on the bags. He stared at them for a second or so before remembering the rest of his thought: “Have Ice type food. Food for Ice types. Uh...”

Mawile’s little hands moved quickly to tell him something.

He blinked a couple times, trying to understand before giving in, pointing at his hand: “I cannot - three finger sign, I’m not. Fluent.”

The little Steel Fairy nodded apologetically and chittered as she repeated, slower so that he could try the signs out himself to properly translate them: No problem. C eat nothing or anything. C eat wood if want. No worry.

The chittering was probably so that Cryogonal could listen in herself and assure Emmet of the veracity of the statement with another ghastly shriek.

Which she did.

That got her another thumbs up.

It took a while, to properly get everybody their bowl of dinner, and he had to be helped a couple of times - mostly by Mawile, who seemed the most well-versed in reading written symbols.

He was so, so tired.

In the end they had managed to split the food around more or less evenly: both Durant and Excadrill had graciously declined the portion of Steel-specific food that should have been mixed with their other ones so that Bisharp and Mawile could have it, since they had nothing for Dark or Fairy types, and Emolga was more than fine getting only Flying-specific (Archeops wasn’t necessarily keen on that, but very wisely had not argued with the rat that looked like he had been through a shredder and survived) since Eelektross’ size demanded quite a bowl for him; Seismitoad had at one point striked up a conversation with his fellow Ground type regarding, Emmet imagined, which types of dirt tasted better, whereas Heatmor was still snout-deep in his can of beans, apparently eating them one at a time to better savor them, as normal Fire-specific food didn’t account for his digestive troubles.

Even Cryogonal had managed to snack around without causing an excess in panic. Gurdurr seemed to be the only one a little embarassed, glancing every now and then to the much bigger Fighting type in the same manner an elementary-schooler glances at a substitute teacher he may or may not have a puppy crush on.

It was relatively quiet, in the end. A lot of crunching and munching, and unintelligible words, but it was quiet.

Emmet shook himself a little when small teeth gently bit down on his arm: Mawile looked up at him with a slight concern, her little hands pulling at his pants to make him sit down properly instead of squatting on his toes.

“Hm?” he asked her - or, well, tried to - as he felt his head strangely light.

The Fairy insisted he take a seat first before explaining: No sleep yet! Rice not ready. Ready soon. Stay awake.

“I am Emmet. I am awake.”

Before no.

“Yes I was.”

Mawile pointed at Boldore: Called you, she explained. Food stolen. You asleep! No answer. Crab say shut up.

At that, he looked up to the three Bugs.

Durant and Galvantula both followed his gaze: Crustle turned his bulbous eyes in two completely different directions to try and feign ignorance.

That clearly did not work, as a perfectly straight finger pointed right at him.

“Bad boy.” his trainer’s brother decreted. Crustle (who by law knew any word he could have said could have been used against him) chirped out an indignated whine in protest. “No. Give Boldore some of yours.”

Bugs cannot quite huff, though the crustacean definitely did try; with no other option, he haughtily shoved what still remained in his bowl to the block of rock he had stolen the lunch from in the first place, who made a crumbling sound similar to a piqued ‘thank you’ and very slowly helped himself to the rest of his supper while the other retreated in his cement house as though he were the offended party here.

Well, that was solved.

Emmet rubbed one eye with his hand to shake the sleep dust off of it.

A three-fingered paw pulled at his shirt again: “I am awake,” he reassured Mawile, “I am not falling asleep.”

She did not particularly care about his blatant lies at the moment - not as much as she cared about getting him off the floor, at least, as evidenced by how she tried to pull him onto the couch despite her obvious size disadvantage. Bisharp, noting her struggle, quickly put aside his own bowl and rose to his feet, metal arms outstretched to catch the man in them.

“No thanks,” Emmet stopped him. “Can do it myself.”

Alright, he thought, time to stand up.

After a whole minute he had not moved an inch.

Bisharp, with as extreme a tenderness as a creature composed partially by sawblades could muster, gently slipped his hands under Emmet’s arms, lifted him into the air as one might lift a cat, and sat him on the couch.

“Thanks.” the human peeped.

Seeing the Dark type bow a little in response while Archeops blatantly laughed at him gave him some weird new kind of mortification to feel.

Maybe if he focused on the incomprehensible sounds somewhat reminscent of words coming from the kitchen, he would manage to trick himself into not thinking about having had to be picked up like a bag of cement because his joints didn’t respond.

From the door connecting the two rooms he could see Briosa perfectly still before the stove: a vacant look seemed to dwell in her eyes as her lips moved quickly, and perhaps most concerningly she was holding a kitchen knife in her right hand, bits and pieces of zucchini still stuck to the blade, with a grip that could have concievably crushed a piece of wood into shavings or caused a small enough pumpkin to explode under the pressure.

Not a very reassuring sight.

But it did immediately cancel his embarassment.

“... E il carica-to-re svuo-te-rà, sul-le aliquote della-li-bertà...”

Very suddenly, she began banging her fists against her hips in asynchrony, large knife very much still grasped tight in her palm, as if her body was a drumset and she were playing it after getting a dose of pure sugar injected in her veins.

“Ed il so-cio scompa-ri-rà, sul-le aliquote della-li-bertà...” she continued unperturbed by neither her own choreography nor the possibility of accidentally stabbing herself for that matter.

The rest of the chorus turned a little garbled from her furious headbanging, the movement so violent and so spread out through her entire frame (her torso and pelvis were oscillating in tandem back and forth to lend more strength to the motion, making her look a little like one of those bird-shaped toys that are constantly quickly dipping their beaks in the water, rising out of it, then diving back in for another sip) that it made him fear for a moment she would slam her head on the counter and either knock herself out or destroy it completely, with a higher chance of the latter.

Emmet turned back to Mawile, who had climbed the couch to sit next to him.

“She is always like this?”

She followed his finger with her gaze as he pointed to the kitchen.

Then she nodded.

“Man.”

No like silence, the Fairy explained.

"Aaah. So she talks."

The little beast waited a moment, then waved a hand in the air in a sort-of-yes-sort-of-no kind of gesture: Talk, no really. No hear voice. Feel mouth move, remember how voice sound. But no hear.

Emmet tilted his head: "She can't hear her own voice?"

Mawile nodded.

He clicked his tongue in thoughtful aknowledgement and blinked.

That was such a weird concept, not being able to hear yourself. It was the sort of obvious thing one never ponders on at all: so he had always assumed she could, without really thinking about it enough to question whether or not that was possible. And even if he had found himself reflecting on it in a sudden burst of curiosity, he would have probably still rationalized that she could, maybe by feeling the vibrations in her neck as she spoke.

But that would have meant keeping her hands on her throat all the time, he reasoned, and it would have been really bothersome for someone as prone to action as she was.

He wondered, suddenly, if she knew how squeaky she sounded.

Probably not.

"Could she hear herself?" he asked. "Somehow?"

Yes!, Mawile nodded enthusiastically.

Emmet blinked again. From what she had told him, he hadn't expected that could have been a possibility.

Headphone! Microphone!, the Fairy continued without needing any prompting. Ear implant! But no wear for long. Hurt ear. Or yell!

"Yell?"

If loud enough! Like before!

Did that mean she had been yelling?

This whole time?

Oh, Emmet suddenly thought: yes, actually, she must have been. The kitchen was a room that in some strange way never let any noise escape it; no matter how much the oil could have sizzled or how agonizingly the blender could have screamed, their agony remained hushed into silence between those walls. It was very nice, by all means - he still remembered having to retreat in his closet to escape the noise of his uncle in the kitchen so it couldn’t make him feel like there were Stunfisks flapping around in his veins - but it brought along the slight side-effect that if they had to set a timer that wasn't the oven's (which turned the machine off as soon as it was done) they would have to put it in the livingroom, or they'd never hear it.

For him to be able to listen to her, Briosa must have been belting the hell out of her incomprehensible song like tomorrow wasn't planning on being a thing.

“Verrry loud,” he commented, slowly.

Mawile nodded, whirring her tongue to imitate him as she signed: Verrry loud.

Some minor inconvenience must have happened, because Briosa shouted something irritated, possibly profanity of some kind.

Emmet leaned his head on the back pillows.

Now she was singing again.

“Al-me-no-fi-no-a-do-mat-ti-na-ti-pro-me - tto-che, sarò la fa-ccia, di-cui-hai-più bisogno...”

This one was much calmer. More melodic. The way she pronounced the words had a strange cadence, quick yet slow - it was hard to explain. He blinked, feeling drowsy all the way into his marrow.

“Me-glio-non-di-re-nien-te-aspet-tando-il-mat-ti-no, sor-rido, se-pen-so-al-no-me-che-tu mi-darai do-ma-ni...”

Huh. This verse had a completely different rhythm. Weird.

Maybe the author was part of some avantgarde musical genre he didn’t know.

He felt something lukewarm pulling his forehead back and realized his eyes were closed. When had that happened? Chandelure chimed at him something that sounded like ‘don’t fall asleep yet, you still have to eat’.

Ah.

So it wasn’t the song’s fault for having different-sounding verses.

He mouthed that he wasn’t asleep, voice barely leaving his mouth. He hadn’t even noticed he’d dozed off.

“... che, orati-mangida-den, tro, piccolo-pianeta-spen, to, come-una bri-ciolaal-ven-toe-un-bu-co-ne-roe-un-oc-chio-blu,” Briosa was continuing.

He wondered how much of it he’d missed.

“E, so-no-po-co-più-di-un-jamais-vu, tra tutte queste persone, nella-mia-testa-io-gioco-a-tabù, perdo-se-dico-il tuo no - me...”

A pinch at his leg.

Ow, he murmured, furrowing his brow; Durant chittered worriedly at him, nudging him to spur him into action. His eyelids felt horribly sandy against his sclera as he rubbed them with as much vigor as possible to shake any tiredness away.

He was not tired. He was not sleeping.

His knees popped when he straightened them to tense his legs.

He was not about to fall into a nap again.

“Io ti terrò la mano, tu tienimi l’anima...”

He bent down to grasp his feet.

“E pure se non sai chi sono non lasciarla mai...”

Maybe, if he went to check on Briosa, he would avoid knocking himself out on the couch for the next five hours.

He stood as though he were made of lead.

Following her saccharine voice, he slowly began wobbling towards the kitchen.

“Ve - di, ci sono, dei-ri, cordi, che-mi de - vi, sei grande, ma-ti, chiamo-an, cora ba - by,” (oh, a word he recognized) “Ho gl’occhi rossi ma non te ne accorgi, ti guardo mentre dormi, ma solo ieri-”

Her nose stuck out so much when you looked at her from the side. It jutted out from her forehead out of nowhere, somewhere a little above her eyes and almost right below her eyebrows, and then it came right down like a straight wall. It wasn’t perfectly straight, because there was a dent where it had likely been broken and incorrectly healed; so more than a wall it was like a waterfall interrupted in the middle by a rock. Despite the contrast with the rest of her more graceful features, it fit everything about her like a glove. Emmet’s nose showed no signs of harm and pointed outwards instead, like half the head of an arrow. What weird things to notice in the split second between two verses of a hook.

“-C’e-ri, nei giorni ne-ri, quelli che piove troppo fo-rte per stare in pie-di,” she sang: “E fottevamo anche la morte volando legge-ri, m’hai chiesto dimmi cosa te-mi, in che cosa cre-di, la mia risposta sei tu.”

She hummed loudly, thin lips pursed tight, tilting her head with the melody.

“La mia risposta sei tu...” she repeated while stirring the mass of rice in what little broth was left.

Emmet stared.

She had a nice voice.

When she turned to the door - maybe to call for him - she had a startle and flattened herself closer to the floor, little eyes blown wide and hand grasping the counter. She looked like she had a heart attack.

They simply stared at each other for a moment, before Emmet remembered she couldn’t have heard him come in and likely had shat her pants.

Whoops.

Briosa was quicker: “Hello!” she grinned apologetically. “I was really really loud, wasn’t I.”

Her boss shook his head, smiling back: No problem. You sing nice.

Expression losing any mortification, she flipped her wooden spoon to tap her chin with it a few times as though she were thanking a deeply captivated audience - giving a ‘youch’ and a ‘porca puttana bastarda’ when the heat carried by the utensil scalded her a little.

He wasn’t sure what that second thing meant, but it made him chuckle.

Briosa turned back to the pot and twisted her mouth: “Ok, since it’s almost ready, do you want me to put...” she rocked in place for a moment, hand waving a little, “A sensible person’s idea of a good amount of cheese and butter, or my idea of a good amount of cheese and butter?”

Second, he signed.

“Gotcha.” and she got her big knife back in hand and grabbed the brick of definitely softer butter like she was going to squeeze it between her fingers and annihilate it completely: “Drown it in dairy it is.”

Emmet wheezed weakly.

He fetched a couple plates and forks to set on the table, slowly, so slowly. By the time he found the glasses and started checking for a bottle that still had some water before pikcing one and putting in the sink to fill it, the rice had completely dried up, and Briosa was stirring it with butter and shredded cheese with such a focused gaze and furiously quick hand that an inattentive onlooker might have thought she was busy making merengues instead.

(They had tried exactly once, and in the end they’d both ended up with aching wrists and a bunch of half whipped egg clears despite their best efforts. In the end they had made sweet white omelettes that weren’t as bad as they could have turned out to be.)

“You wanna lick the spoon?”

Before he could even register the question he had already clamped the wooden utensil in his mouth.

Clearly the correct course of action: that tasted great.

Must have been all the cheese.

Now he was salivating.

“This’ll kill you,” Briosa assured him with a calm tone. “If you’re not gonna be sleeping after this I might have to punch a hole in your head.”

He gave her thumbs up. A good last meal either way.

They ate in silence, fairly quickly. Had he really not noticed how hungry he was up until now? Dragons. He shouldn’t skip meals. But maybe it was just because this rice specifically tasted so good. Why, he couldn’t really tell. It was just rice and zucchini. Drowned in dairy, but still rice and zucchini. It wasn’t even that hard to make. He probably could have made it on his own.

Maybe it was because he’d fasted the whole day.

He stood and fetched a second portion. Briosa was eyeing the pot like a Braviary waiting for the right moment to strike a Basculin.

When he motioned for her to hand him her plate she shook her head: “I’m not hungry,” she claimed, though he never quite believed her when she said that, even when she sounded so honest - maybe she was trying to convince herself, but as to why he couldn’t tell, “It’s just gluttony. Keep that in a tupper or something, I made a lot for that especially. And!”

Her index waved a little in the air, possibly to distract her boss from how she was standing to wash her dish and everything before he might object: “And, when you warm it, do it in a pan. With some oil. Gets all crunchy like popcorn. Good shit, let me tell you.”

Emmet nodded. You know a lot, he signed back once both his hands were free.

“My dad always fries his rice instead of putting it in the microwave.”

I see. It was very good.

She smiled at him weirdly.

“You gotta do it like this,” and she signed ‘very’ back at him - though her index and middle fingers paused for a moment after parting, dipping just a second towards the floor before she finished the sign.

He tilted his head: he’d been fairly sure he’d learned how to sign that correctly. Nevertheless, he imitated her.

“There you go!” she grinned. “It’s too weird when you say it with no gemination.”

Twin?, he asked, even more confused.

She spelled the word quickly: “Gemination - doubling letters in a word to make a longer or stronger sound. Like rubble or throttle or bottle. In this case it’s over-gemination because no letter in ‘very’ is doubled but that doesn’t matter. You geminate it. It doesn’t feel right if you don’t.”

How do you know?

“Know what?”

Gemination.

“Ah. Your mouth.”

He pointed at it, surprised. It likely looked a little comical, since he had taken a rather big bite at that moment.

Briosa smiled a little wider: he watched her clearly mouth the word twice, slowly.

“The eh sound opens it a little wider than the ee sound,” she explained, and mouthed it again. “The R by itself has a shwah sound, a sort of ‘uh’ - that’s really weak, so it gets replaced easily by a different one. If you stall it after an eh sound, the lips remain in a similar position, and you can see how they flatten more once the ee sound comes along.”

He looked more carefully as she repeated the motion once more before gulping down his last forkful and imitating her, trying to feel the sounds on his lips. Huh! That was true. He could tell the different shapes made by the vowels. Curious.

Verrry interesting, he signed. The stalling made her grin. Where did you learn?

“Phonetics class in college I had to take to meet the right amount of credits. I actually chose it mostly because the professor was deaf too, so.”

Emmet clicked his tongue, understanding; Briosa clicked it back in affirmation.

Who knows where they’d picked that up from.

He leaned his strangely heavy head on his crossed arms, splaying himself on the table with a sigh. He felt comfortably warm, at ease; he grumbled a protest when a smaller hand slipped his empty plate and dirty silverware away to wash it in the sink, but didn’t quite manage to coax himself to stand up fast enough to stop her from doing his dishes. He did manage to seize the still half full pot before her, emptying its contents into a glass container and managing to hold onto it long enough to squirt some dishsoap in it - not to clean it, because Briosa twisted his arm behind his back without breaking a sweat (without hurting him either) forcing him to hand it over to her.

You should not clean, he pouted once he had both his hands free again: My house. I’m host. You’re guest. I clean.

“I invited myself over though.”

And cooked.

“And ate also.” and she kicked his hip gently to get him out of the kitchen: “Get your pijamas on while I’m busy, you’re going straight to bed once I’m done.”

You’re not my dad.

She stared directly into his eyes with a face so blank it almost made him laugh.

“Do you want me to adopt you,” she said like it was a threat.

Emmet’s entire body began shaking to contain a giggle. He shook his head.

“Then wash your teeth and put on your jammies.”

He wheezed in her face.

She snorted back.

“But seriously,” she chuckled, “Go get changed. The rice is gonna hit soon and you’re not gonna be able to move a muscle for the next three hours otherwise.”

Alright, fair.

He didn’t notice it, but the Pokémon chatting about in the livingroom were all greatly relieved to see him stumble into his room giggling to himself like a kid.

Flannel felt good on his arms. It was soft, warm, loose... It seemed like forever since he had last worn those pijamas. They were awfully comfortable. He had to make an effort to change into them more often when he came back home. They were much better than a dirty button up and dress pants.

(He hadn’t called before eating. He should have called now.)

(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.)

“If you’re naked stick out your leg!”

The sound of Briosa’s voice shouting from the corridor made him almost throw the Xtransceiver into high heaven, fumbling to catch it so that it didn’t shatter on the floor and hastily closing the call before she could hear the ringing and ask about it.

The fact that she was deaf dawned on him a second too late, but that was done.

(And he hadn’t replied, anyways.)

He settled the gadget on the nightstand, trying to pull himself out of the spiral he’d almost been sucked in; without even thinking he proceeded to stick his leg out through the doorway.

There was a beat of silence; then: “I said naked!”

Emmet cawed out a laugh.

His head peeked through as well. Briosa looked at him, face plain, coat in her arms and hat in hand.

“I thought you’d passed out,” she noted.

Nope, he signed back. Still awake.

“Not for long!”

Sounds evil.

Her brows furrowed: “What’s that mean?”

You sound like you’ll knock me out.

She thought it over a moment before squeaking a chuckle.

It would be verrry easy, he shrugged.

“It would!”

He accompanied her back to the livingroom. The various bags of food had been transported away, the bowls had disappeared back into their cupboard, Crustle still refused to grace the room with his handsome face, and Gurdurr hurriedly scuttled away from Conkeldurr despite having barely come close enough to graze her, deathly embarassed by his crush and round nose redder than usual; Cryogonal shrieked something in his general direction as greeting.

He gave her thumbs up.

“Alright my beautiful death machines,” Briosa called with a tone so affectionate it felt as though her mouth was dripping cotton candy: “We’re goin’ back home! Time for the circus trick.”

She patted her belt a few times, looking for her set of Pokéball. Emmet helpfully pointed them to her from where he’d laid them on the table; Mawile took that as an opportunity to gently bite her shirt as she collected the spheres to rapidly sign something at her and direct her attention over to Heatmor, who was fidgeting rather nervously with his yellow claws.

Once he had her undivided attention, he pulled the sweetest pair of Baby-Doll Eyes he could muster, wiggling demurely as though whining.

Briosa smiled: “Go on, give her a snuggle,” she allowed.

In a second the Fire type wrapped Durant in a tight hug, rubbing his snout on her with a concert of thrilled chirps; the Steel Bug for her part clacked her mandibles rather happily as though to remind him they were going to see each other tomorrow at work anyways.

The beasts who hadn’t visited the station in quite some time eyed the exchange with genuinely dumbfounded gazes.

It probably felt a little like beholding a glitch in nature itself.

A brief whistle tore Heatmor from his friend; he waved her bye one last time before a reddish ray sucked him right back into one of the six balls being juggled by his trainer, followed suit by each of his associates while Mawile latched herself onto her aidee’s elbow.

Emmet followed the trajectory of the flying spheres without trying to keep up with their increasing speed, head heavier than lead lolling back and forth until all six were caught with a fluid graceful motion between the fingers of the Substitute, the little Fairy swinging from her arm leaping onto her head and landing perfectly balanced - thanks to her main maw acting as counterweight - right on her buzzed mousy hair with a little flourish, like an olimpic gymnast.

He weakly waved his hands in a silent applause. Mawile bowed deeply, proud; Briosa curtsied and thanked him by grazing all ten fingertips to her chin.

Must teach me, he signed as he forgot to stifle a yawn.

“Maybe when you’re not falling asleep on your feet.”

Agreed.

Galvantula gently nuzzled her leg.

“Ye, ye, I’m leaving him to y’all now,” she assured the Bug. She saluted the rest of the beasts as she slipped her coat back on hurriedly and helped her aide back down into one of her pockets: “Thank you for not mauling me!”

A chorus of noises she couldn’t hear bid her farewell.

Socked feet accompanied her to the door. Emmet stalled for a moment before opening it; his fingers drummed on the knob under eyes of rotten green waiting patiently for him to send them on their way.

Instead he turned towards her, hands a little sluggish as he signed: Thank you. For rice. And company. Elesa does this, usually. When she can.

“That’s nice to know.” Briosa noted.

Not always. She comes, not always. I mean that. Always nice, when she comes. But doesn’t come always.

“Yeah, I imagined you meant that.”

Sorry. Verrry tired.

“I can see that.”

I am... Bothering?

“Not at all! You just kinda look like you’re melting. You should go sleep.”

Will do.

Briosa smiled. It was the most angular smile he’d seen on her yet, and it fit her like a glove. It made him think like the smile that made Elesa’s eyes too small and her face too round. It was sweet.

“Next time I’ll make you a soup,” she said. “And if I remember them I’ll sing you some songs from old cartoons to keep you awake.”

He liked the idea of a next time.

He gave her an ok; she tilted her hat at him.

“Goodnight.”

Goodnight.

Then he closed the door behind her; tucked his and his brother’s partners to bed; turned off the lights; crawled under the covers.

He slept well.

#pokémon #submas emmet #too many pokemon to tag... its both the twins teams + briosas as well #briosa pokemon #random writing #MAN this has been in my wips for a LONG while idk how or why i powered through tonight to finish it but im glad #feat. Sulle Aliquote Della Libertà (by nanowar of steel) and Ricordi (by pinguini tattici nucleari) aka the songs briosa sings #ricordi is such a submas song to me (stripped of any romantic undertone in there)#its written from the persective of someone whose loved one suffers from alzheimer #and the verses briosa sings are the ones that i feel are most connected to ingo and emmets situation #(tho first one is more abt elesa n briosa being there for emmet - 'at least until tomorrow morning i promise ill be the face you need most')#theyre written weirdly bc i was trying to recreate the songs rhythm btw you should look for the proper lyrics. its a great song trust me #sulle aliquote della libertà is there only because of the dramatic comedic timing #it has no special meaning its a song abt how to commit tax evasion gdhsgdhjsgaj #also! the spoon thing. my mom always asks if someone wants to lick the spoon/licks it herself after she makes rice. its tastey #i NEED to reiterate that briosa doesnt Know she and emmet are friends at this point #so in her mind shes doing this for her boss who shes come to know better and enjoy and who she knows is Going Through It #elesa asked her to look after him as in 'make sure he doesnt work himself to death'#and briosa went 'got it chief' and overachieved spectacularly #emmet: mmm. briosa never says im her friend. maybe she thinks its obvious #briosa (who made him dinner n kept him company n ensured he took care of himself): this is a normal boss-employee dynamic

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