The cold air paints rouge into his cheeks, matching the hue of her stained lips.
Though his voice never loses any gusto or passion (or thinly veiled nervousness, but that’s been present for the past three dates), Mendel shivers betwixt every other word. Likewise, the thin material of her sweater does little to protect Trina from the frigid air, and she has to resist the urge to bury her nearly frostbitten hands in the pockets of Mendel’s wool jacket.
It’s so cold tonight - far too cold to be prowling the streets of New York, admittedly - but neither of them acknowledge this fact. Maybe because they’re both stubborn. Maybe because they’re a little more drunk than they’d like to admit. Or maybe it’s because - if they acknowledge the late hour, the testy climate - it will bring an end to their evening, and neither necessarily want to go back to their separate lonely houses.
The wind nymphs rake their invisible, thimble fingers through her hair, making it whip in the air as if dancing to a song unbeknownst to mankind. Her windswept appearance has caught Mendel’s eye more than once in the past ten minutes, and it thrills Trina in a way that she would never admit.
But it’s just so intoxicating - to have so close of a man’s attention. To be noticed.
To be desired.
Trina thinks again about putting her hands in Mendel’s pockets, though not for the purpose of warming her hands.
“A lot of people disregard the bee’s purpose and significance to our very own endurance as a species.” Mendel affirms avidly, and Trina tries to pay attention, but her mind wanders to how his lips form words and curve into a smile.
He’s a bit of a know-it-all, she supposes, but at least not to the extent that Marvin is. Still, though, Trina supposes that she has a type.
(She thinks about the way that Mendel had smiled at their waiter only an hour earlier, and even though the exchange was objectively harmless and offhanded, it had still made her stomach clench and eyes water.
She hopes to God she doesn’t have that type).
“Without bees, we wouldn’t have honey.” Trina adds, just in an effort to engage in the conversation. Wildly, she expects Mendel to scoff and roll her eyes at her obvious observation, just as Marvin would any time she tried to “interrupt” his many rants of nonsensical academic pretension.
However, Mendel just looks at her with stars in his eyes and smiles, “Exactly. And what’s the point of living without that?”
What’s the point of living at all, really?
She doesn’t say that. It’s a little morbid and probably only funny to her.
“You’re right,” Trina says instead, “The world needs all the sweetness it has left.”
Mendel, not for the first time tonight, looks like he wants to kiss her.
Trina hopes that she looks like she wants him to kiss her.
With a jolt in her heart, she notices that Mendel has slowed to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. She falls into place with him, idly marveling at the fact that almost everything they do is perfectly in sync.
With dark eyes, he licks his lips and then winces at how the harsh wind bites at the moisture. Trina imagines one of the wind nymphs stealing that kiss from him and feels an irrational sense of jealousy.
Unable to suppress it any further, Trina shivers - from the cold or from the anticipation, the truth is lost on her.
Mendel blinks, already beginning to slip off his jacket, “Are you cold? Here, you can - “
Trina kisses him then. His lips are cold but his mouth is a furnace, and the chill that’s gathered at the base of her spine melts under the warmth of him. Mendel makes a soft noise into her mouth, one that Trina swallows and keeps locked in her heart.
He buries a hand in her hand, places the other on her waist. And not for the first time, it feels like Mendel - sweet, charming, warm Mendel - is the only one keeping her anchored to the ground.
It isn’t their first kiss - far from it - but the way that her lips tingle and heart explodes feels like it is.
When she pulls back, she says, breathless and starved for the touch of his hands, “I’m always warm when I’m with you.”
He gives her the coat anyway. And Trina doesn’t know if warm necessarily has a smell, but she thinks that - if she had to put it into words - she would describe the scent of Mendel Weisenbachfeld.
Idk why I didn’t think Lovehacks was gonna be over after book 2… I guess I just kinda thought that we’d get a book 3 of everybody being happy and successful… because that’s what they typically do… and like… idk… I’m just not ready for it to be over… like… it’s definitely boring and not my favorite but… THE CHARACTERS!!! THE DIALOGUE!!! I’m just gonna miss them all so much…
Summary: Akko Kagari lives with her poor widow mother in a cottage with their goats. Growing up, she has heard of stories about ruthless and mischievous faeries and wished to experience it herself while evading the costs and consequences that come. One day while foraging in the forest, she is approached by a beautiful huntress and invites her to dance with her.
Akko’s mother would tell her stories upon bedtime about the fair folk that lived in the woods. Stories about brownies who help with the chores overnight in exchange for a bowl of cream. There were pixies who make various pranks on humans ranging from harmless to harmful.
There were boggarts, mischievous creatures who slammed doors, shatter pottery and pawed through a household’s winter stores in search of sweets. There were goblins, ugly creatures who kidnaps naughty children and eat them.
first time reading homestuck 3 years ago was super nostalgic for me because my highschool experiences with computers and internet were very much those of homestuck trolls/kids: ms paint art, bulky box desktop computers, cringey html websites with terrible layout/backgrounds and lots of sparkles, attempts at programming etc.
and then there’s hiveswap. i sure encountered these horizontal desktop layout pcs, walkie talkies, floppy discs and tv controller games in my school years, but they felt more like old timey curiosities so earth part seems consistent. but then there’s alternia and suddenly tech is modern, more so than homestuck trolls ever had. tablets which double as pcs, selfies, chat that looks more whatsapp like than icq, and it is just very-very counter-intuitive and makes me wonder what was the thinking behind that