#… where 98% of all relationships literally go to die :|

[eek-a-tron]

WHAT

Screenshots from X-Men '97 S1E6

[anyasathenaeum]

Our Father, Who Art In Heaven (98!WW X Reader Smut)

A/N: Hey everybody, I'm baaaaack! It's been a bit of a stressful and busy time, but hopefully you guys can enjoy this. I actually wrote this piece well over a year ago privately (for my dearest and best friend, @vanille-sweet, who has kindly granted me permission to alter and share this work so you can all enjoy it!). Literally nobody asked for this but here, have it anyways. I went with 98!WW here. Please be nice. Warnings: MINORS DNI!, AFAB!Reader (female terms used), smut (lots of it), sacrilege (y'all get nasty in a church), oral (female receiving), P in V sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, FOLKS), a tiny hint of exhibitionism towards the end, WW has a thing for being called "Father" (does that count as a daddy kink?...), no established relationship

Time on the road was wearing you down.

Slowly but surely, you felt your resilience and your drive to continue beginning to die out. Everything was becoming too much for you to handle. From the chaos of being around Vash, all the people hunting him down and, by extension, you and the others, to just constantly moving from town to town, you found yourself exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally, you were drained.

What you hadn't expected was to find solace and a moment of peace in a place you had only stepped foot into maybe once before - a church. It was nothing special - no beautiful stained glass windows, no huge arches, no beautiful, expensive chandeliers. Just a small building with an alter, a confessional, and a bunch of small, wooden pews for those wishing to pray in this tiny town.

You now found yourself sitting in one of those pews, entirely alone in the whole building, left to be with your thoughts and emotions and try to sort yourself out. You sighed heavily, resting your head on the pew in front of you, shutting your eyes tightly as your exhaustion coursed through you.

"Hey, pretty lady, whatcha doing here in the house of the Lord?"

The sudden voice scared the crap out of you, causing you to yelp and jump straight out of your skin, turning to see Wolfwood standing there, smiling coolly as if he hadn't just scared you.

"Oh, Wolfwood, it's just you. You startled me," You replied, letting out a deep breath and lean back against the pew where you were sitting, your gaze going straight up to the ceiling as you answered him, "I'm just... thinking."

Wolfwood didn't say anything as he approached you, sitting directly next to you in the same pew. Once he had been seated, he spoke softly.

"Thinking about what? You don't look too happy, I gotta say. It's not a good look on you, (Y/N)."

You just scoffed and shot him a look, "That's rich, coming from you, Mr. Preacher Man."

That drew a chuckle from the priest, who brought his arm around your shoulders and drew you in close to him, bringing a blush you hoped he wouldn't see to your cheeks.

"Seriously, (Y/N). What's on your mind?"

He spoke softer, his voice gentler than before. Wolfwood always surprised you with how kind he could be - you never anticipated it, for some reason. But right now, you didn't mind one bit. It felt nice, having just one person there with you right now, and Wolfwood seemed like the perfect person to talk to about your troubles.

"I just..." You sighed out, "I'm struggling to keep going on. Constantly being on the run is starting to drain me. I wish I could just... stay somewhere for a little. Forget about life for a moment. You know?"

Wolfwood was smiling down at you softly as you spoke, nodding his head in understanding, "Yeah, I get it. It's a lot. But you're strong, pretty lady. Don't doubt that for a second."

You felt your blush darkening as you looked away from him for a moment, quietly mumbling "Thanks, Wolfwood" in return.

Of course, though, Wolfwood noticed your blush and tilted your head towards him, his fingers under your jaw firm in their motion but somehow still gentle. You felt your heart rate hit the roof as you looked up at him - he was exceptionally handsome. You always knew as much, but now... it felt like you were really seeing him for the first time. His dark skin, his eyes, his curved nose, his muscled figure, his dark hair, everything was suddenly hitting you all at once and the thoughts going through your mind were bordering on unholy for being in such a holy place.

"Ya know... you're pretty much in confessional right now, pretty lady. Got any sins you wanna get off your chest?"

Wolfwood's tone was sultry and gently teasing, his dark eyes scanning your face for signs of a reaction to his comment. You, however, took this as a challenge and decided not to make it easy for him.

"My sins are all I have left in my life, Father," You replied, your own tone dropping and silky smooth as you answered, "I have nothing but my sins to hold onto."

You could see Wolfwood's face changing colour at your answer, and you could see him swallowing hard as he processed your tone and your words. You had succeeded in flustering the priest back just as he had flustered you, and a sense of pride swelled in your chest.

After a few moments, Wolfwood had recovered and immediately took it one step further, bringing his face down close to yours. So close that you could feel his breath fanning across your skin as he spoke.

"Then... why don't I give you something else to hold onto?"

Your eyes widened at what he was insinuating - he couldn't possibly be serious. Could he?

"My, my, Wolfwood... are you suggesting what I think you are? And in a church, no less?"

Your tone was teasing, but you genuinely wanted to know if Wolfwood was seriously asking you if you wanted to sleep with him in a church. You knew that if Wolfwood was even the slightest bit serious in his teasing, you would accept without hesitation. It had been forever since you'd had sex with anybody, and the last time it had been some random stranger in a one-night stand. But Wolfwood... that would be sex to remember.

Wolfwood grinned cheekily at you, bringing himself closer until his lips were mere centimeters away from yours, "What's the point of absolving people of sin if they have no sins to absolve, eh, pretty lady? Makes my job more interesting."

"Oh, so I'm just a job to you, then?" You snapped at him - there was no way you were gonna let him get away with this.

You weren't making it easy for him to get into your pants, regardless of how badly you wanted it. You stood up, scoffing as you walked past him and begun walking towards the alter of the church, pretending to be upset with him to get him riled up.

"Hey, wait, I'm sorry, (Y/N). That's not what I meant, I just-" Wolfwood was explaining as he followed you up to where you stood at the front of the church, "I just meant-"

You couldn't keep it in any longer, bursting into laughter at his attempts to fix the "damage" he had done. The look of confusion and disbelief on his face was worth it, causing you to laugh harder.

"Oh, Wolfwood! Your face!" You were laughing hysterically, almost doubling over from laughing as you heard him grumbling under his breath. Once you recovered from your laughing fit, you turned to Wolfwood and walked up to him, getting all up in his personal space the way he had done with you earlier.

"So... Father... you gonna punish me for my sins?"

Your tone was sultry and silky again, low and seductive as your breath ghosted over his skin. You could see the goosebumps raising across Wolfwood's skin at your words, and you knew then and there you had him hook, line and sinker.

Sure enough, without saying another word, Wolfwood was pressing you up against the wall near the alter of the church, his lips pressing against yours in a passionate, messy, heated kiss. You could feel every muscled plane of Wolfwood's body pressing against yours, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you kissed him back hungrily.

"God..."

The whisper that escaped Wolfwood was breathless, as if the kiss and the taste and feeling of you had knocked the wind straight out of him. You just smirked up at him, panting slightly.

"I thought you weren't supposed to use the Lord's name in vain, Father."

The growl that left Wolfwood's throat was beyond primal, and you soon found yourself with his lips pressed against yours once more, his tongue soon exploring your mouth as yours explored his, relishing his taste and the feeling of him against you. His leg nudged yours apart, and you let out a stifled moan into his mouth as his thigh brushed against your clothed core, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

"N-Nicholas," You moaned out, panting more heavily than before, struggling to find words as you felt his thigh continuing to brush against your core.

The smirk on Wolfwood's face was large, and it only grew as he brought his hand down to wrestle your pants off, revealing your underwear and the extremely noticeable wet spot forming on them from your arousal.

"Well, well, well, pretty lady," Wolfwood growled, "Seems somebody's enjoying herself."

"More," You moaned out, not caring of the location anymore - you wanted Wolfwood and you wanted him now, "More, Nicholas, please, more."

"Shhh, (Y/N). Don't you know patience is a virtue?" Wolfwood teased you gently, his fingers beginning to rub circles over your clit through your underwear, drawing more beautiful moans out of you.

"S-Sorry, Father," You replied, a small smile appearing on your lips as a groan escaped from Wolfwood as you spoke the word "Father" - it confirmed your suspicions that Wolfwood got turned on being called as such.

"Good girl," Wolfwood praised you, before kneeling down in front of you.

He slowly but surely pulled your underwear down and off of your body, before lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over his shoulder, raising your leg slightly and exposing your pussy to him, dripping wet from his touch and his taste and his words. The moan Wolfwood let out at the sight of your pussy had you blushing, and then you suddenly heard him mumbling something lowly. It took you a few moments to realize that he was praying.

"N-Nick?" You whined, shifting slightly as you desperately wanted him to touch you, even if only for half a second, but Wolfwood just continued praying until you were whining more and more. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard Wolfwood mumble "Amen", signaling he was done praying.

"What was that?" You asked, looking down at him, your face flushed red as you gazed at the man who was level with your pussy.

A devilishly charming smile appeared on his face as he replied simply, as if stating the most obvious thing in the world, "I was saying grace and giving thanks for the meal I'm about to have."

Your expression became one of confusion, but before you could understand what Wolfwood had meant, Wolfwood leaned forward and immediately begin to eat you out like a starved man.

You almost shrieked at how amazing it felt, your hands burying themselves in the priest's dark hair as he continued to lick your pussy, alternating between licking and sucking and fucking you with his tongue. You had all but lost the ability to form coherent words, the only thing leaving you being moans, high-pitched whines, whimpers and Wolfwood's name on repeat.

"God, (Y/N), you taste incredible," Wolfwood moaned into your pussy, causing your cheeks to heat up and a particularly loud moan to slip from your lips.

You couldn't say anything in response, only bucking your hips so that Wolfwood could fuck you with his tongue a bit deeper, and suck on your clit just a touch harder.

The pressure within you was building, the coil of pleasure tightening more and more until you were right near the edge. As if reading your body and your thoughts, Wolfwood continued to eat you out but then slipped one of his fingers into your pussy, causing you to cry out. The sudden intrusion was welcomed, with you bucking your hips more as you chased your high, moaning louder and louder. Then, to your surprise, you felt Wolfwood moving his finger within you in a "come-hither" motion, grazing over that spongy spot inside you perfectly until you cried out and the coil of pleasure suddenly snapped, your orgasm washing over you in waves, over and over.

Wolfwood didn't move from your pussy, continuing to lick you and eat you out until you were completely down from your orgasm. When he finally withdrew, he was smirking widely, your slick all over his lips and chin, even as he pressed forward and kissed you, causing you to moan loudly as your tasted yourself on his lips and on his tongue. You don't know how, but this man, this priest, was making you feel better than anybody else ever had.

You simply continued to kiss Wolfwood passionately, your hands coming down to fumble with his belt, all but ripping it open and pulling his pants down enough so that you could palm his rock-hard cock. You gasped slightly at the feeling of Wolfwood, and you realized that this man was BIG. You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks turning a bright red as you spoke up softly.

"Nicholas, a-are you sure you're gonna... fit?"

The smile on Wolfwood's face was big, and you could hear him chuckle as he leaned in for another passionate kiss.

"Don't worry, (Y/N), I think we got you well prepared to take it."

With that, Wolfwood pressed you back into the wall, lifting your leg into the crook of his elbow, stretching you open a bit more so that he could glide his cock over your pussy, letting out a moan as he watched and felt his cock brush against your slick, soft skin. If it was up to him, Wolfwood would've already been fucking you hard. But he knew this was the first time you two were together like this, so he should play nice.

"God, I've wanted you for so long, sweetheart."

You almost missed his words, your eyes widening at the priest's confession, your mind wandering away from the feeling of his cock against your pussy for a moment as you processed that. You just smirked in reply.

"Well, now you have me. Make it good, Wolfwood, and I'll consider doing this with you again."

Not needing to be issued the challenge twice, Wolfwood immediately adjusted himself so that his cockhead caught on your entrance, and in one slow, steady thrust, sheathed himself completely within you.

The cry of his name that left your throat as he did so would forever be engraved in Wolfwood's mind, and it would be something he'd strive to hear again and again for every day for the rest of his life. The feeling of your warm, tight walls clenching down around him was SO much better than he'd envisioned all those times he'd touched himself to the thought of fucking you. This was incomparable.

"O-Oh, God, (Y/N)..."

The broken moan that slipped from Wolfwood's lips made you clench tighter around him, pulling another moan from him in return. He was already so stupidly close to cumming, it was unbelievable. Just the feeling of sliding into you and feeling you around him was enough to get him close to the edge.

On your end, the sting of the stretch of Wolfwood entering you surprised you, causing you to hiss a bit at the feeling - he really was big. You hadn't ever been stretched as much during sex as you were being right now, and it was enough for you to know that you'd definitely want to fuck Wolfwood again and again and again. He just made you feel so full. It was incredible, feeling him pressed up inside you, his cock pressing on all the right places just sitting within you, not even moving yet.

"I-" You hiccupped, trying hard to form words, "You can move, now."

Wolfwood was now the one unable to speak, taking a moment before nodding and pulling himself out of you slowly before thrusting back into you hard. Immediately you moaned, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and pulling him down so you could kiss him. You and Wolfwood were moaning into each other's mouths as he fucked you at the alter of the church, with you begging him to move faster, thrust harder as that familiar coil of pleasure began to build within you again, faster than ever before.

"F-Father, I- I'm gonna-" You stuttered, your voice high-pitched and breathless as all you could focus on was the feeling of his cock stretching you out over and over, brushing over that spot deep inside you that drove you closer and closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, (Y/N), cum for me," Wolfwood growled, his hands grabbing your ass with a grip tight enough that you were sure he'd bruise you and slamming your hips forward in time with his thrusts, somehow going even deeper than he was going before.

Just feeling him grip you and manhandle you like that and hearing him growl alongside all the other sensations raging through your body immediately brought you straight over the edge, you crying out Wolfwood's name over and over as you came again, clenching down on him harder than ever before, milking his cock as you came on him.

That feeling of you squeezing him harder, your walls fluttering on his cock brought Wolfwood to the brink in an instant, another broken moan escaping his lips as he thrusted into you a few final times, "I'm cumming, oh, God, (Y/N), I'm cumming!"

You felt Wolfwood thrust into you one final time, all the way to the hilt and a warm feeling bloomed within your abdomen, signaling that Wolfwood had made good on his promise, cumming deep inside you. Both of you were panting hard as he let your leg down, his cock slipping from within you, both of you letting out a moan as he did so.

"O-Oh, my God..." You panted, your legs shaking as you looked at the priest, your eyes shining from the afterglow of your orgasm, "Nicholas, th-that was amazing..."

Wolfwood simply grinned at you as if he hadn't just fucked you better than any other man had before, before pulling his pants back up and getting himself more cleaned up. As you went to put your underwear back on, Wolfwood reached out and slapped your wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah. Leave those off."

You just gave him a confused look as he began to walk towards the entrance of the church, calling out, "What, why? Wolfwood, I can't walk back to the inn with no underwear on."

The priest smirked as he answered, "Yes, you can. Because I hope to sin with you again tonight the minute we get back to the inn. What do you think about that?"

You let out a small laugh, your pussy clenching at the thought of Wolfwood fucking you again tonight, and you could feel the combination of his and your cum beginning to trickle down your thighs. Regardless, you began to follow Wolfwood out of the church, heading back to the inn.

"I think I'm gonna have to actually go to confessional after all this."

And you couldn't have been happier.

[altades]

Vashwood rant

I can't sleep so why not analyze vashwood in the middle of the night

Now, this analysis is mostly of the manga, with maybe small takes from 98 and tristamp

To start let's look at the boys from their respective beginnings

Vash is so cruelly mischaracterized as a child, and it might be a little bit of trismaps fault, even though i do love it, or maybe people are just putting characters into boxes without really thinking about it but Vash is so not soft-shy-nice little baby brother. The whole thing with him being younger is so insane to me, i get why if Nai was born like 10 minutes earlier he would make it his whole personality (very sibling thing to do) but it's just so stupid. No, they have 0 age difference and it doesn't affect their dynamic cuz the are literally twins for the love of god. And, really, when you look at the manga as kids Nai was the emotional one! And he still is!

Nai is plagued by fear and anger and resentment and those emotions are what drive his every decision. Vash, on the other hand, is much more in control of his feelings and doesn't show them as much. That is to say that pre-tesla nai is the one worried about their relationship with humans, about their future, he's the one crying after talking to Conrad (what a sweet child he was) while Vash seemes much less scared.

And when they find out about Tesla Nai is the one who faints - he’s the more reactive one, the emotional one. And that small difference is what sets their paths so differently. Because Vash actually gets a chance to talk to Rem and figure things out.And that talk is so very important because it makes Rem, who already was everything to Vash, even more important. 

Now, I want us all to think about how terrified Vash was after seeing Tesla cuz he probably thought his own mother was going to dissect him and his brother. But then she saves him when he tries to end his own life, proving that no she’s not gonna kill him, because she, as every human, has the capability to learn from her mistakes and make better choices. (too bad Nai didn’t get that lesson lol)

And then we get to the big bad things. (it’s genocide) But the important part from that whole ordeal is Rem’s sacrifice. Because, listen, I love stories where humanity is shown to be capable of change and forgiveness is a virtue and love and pussy and all that but oh man can it be so so unrealistic and a little bit insane to watch (su im looking at u (i love su but oh boy that is not how the world works unfortunately)) but Trimax manages to make it work so well. I believe that’s cuz Vash is a very kind and loving man but is also completely out of his mind and has horrendous mommy issues. At least half the reason he doesn’t kill people is because Rem has died to save them, and killing them would make it all be for nothing. If he kills these people or if he lets them die would that mean that Rem died for nothing? Did she sacrifice her life to save these people only for her own son to end their lives? AND you know I’m right cuz he literally says it in the manga but also BECAUSE HE DOES THE SAME FOR WOLFWOOD (also he did kill Nai when he had the chance but we don’t have time to unpack that)

All of that is A LOT and very complicated (i love Vash he’s so well written he’s my perfect little meow meow) now let's talk about Wolfwoooooooooood /twirls hair/

WW is much easier to understand and analyze cuz he is, just a guy,, WW is just a normal person who gets insanely unlucky and gets in THE WORST possible situations (If he ever played DND he would roll straight 1s). That is to say that his story is sort of a way to show how much life in the badlands sucks, but also that there are good things even in the worst places (the orphanage) And WW reacts to situations in the most rational way possible way - he kills to survive. he doesn’t want to but he doesn’t get a say in it. If he could chose he would just live with his family and friend and do whatever. And that, him being so normal in such a violent and bloody world is what makes him suffer all the time. His inner moral compass is screaming at him what a terrible person he is and he promptly ignores it.

That is until that moral compass manifests itself in the form of a tall, blond and handsome stranger that he’s supposed to lead to his death. The stranger who turns out to be the most compassionate and kind man WW’s has ever seen. Who he’s supposed to kill. It’s like finding an oasis in the desert and being forced to burn it to the ground. And WW doesn’t want to do that, and he refuses to believe that the oasis is not a mirage so he tries to get Vash to kill someone, even if it’s WW himself. (It doesn’t work.)

As we all know WW changes his mind because of Vash’s influence. And he dies for it. Because even though Vash’s beliefs are born of human virtues, no man is made to walk his path, for he is not human and any mortal who tries to follow an angel to the skies is doomed to crash. WHAT YOU DON’T EXPECT IS THAT THAT MAN WILL BRING THE ANGEL DOWN WITH HIM

There is this line I wrote for an art i’m planning to make and if you’ve read this far you deserve a lil spoiler - “have you found absolution in bringing an angel to his knees?” and it captures perfectly what i'm thinking. And also Vash spends so much time trying to be closer to people but I think him killing Legato might’ve been the most human thing he’s ever done. Cuz it’s is so beautiful in the way he does it for the memory of the person he loved and yet so ugly in it’s cruelty.

I’ve said this before but most of the time when there is a human/ some immortal powerful creature relationship I don’t think the human is that special but WW HE SO IS. Maybe it’s the way that he’s just as deep in the nuclear bombs with personality business as Vash is, being one of said nuclear bombs, but still remains a normal person with relatively good morals that he can anchor Vash to a sort of normality that he doesn’t get often. Like what other guy would get hunted by all sorts of freaks with you, get in trouble all the time, get shot and etc and etc and then go for a drink with you like it’s a normal wednesday? Wolfwood. Or maybe it's that WW learns of every worst part of Vash, he sees him be on the brink of losing himself, he knows Vash has actually caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and ALMOST did it again after Julai, and still stays with him? He sees Vash become something that is not human at all and still stay? Idk MAYBE IT’S ALL OF THAT but WW is just so important and so down bad but we all know that already so i’m not gonna add to that

Anyways, I got this all out of my system gn

[tobiasdrake]

Inspired by some recent posts: What are your thoughts on people shipping Bulma and Goku?

Oh, my feelings on that ship are complicated.

I actually used to like that ship when I was younger. I've always been a fan of ships between characters who genuinely enjoy each other's company and work together to solve problems with minimal friction. When I was growing up, the go-to for canon ship writing was tension. Two characters are in tension with one another until they admit their true feelings and fall in love.

You could see it in anime with ships like Ranma Saotome and Akane Tendo who absolutely, violently hate each other's guts 98% of the time but then occasionally are sweet together so you know they're really deeply in love. Japan loved tsundere romances back in the day. They were everywhere.

And you could see it in Western media like Han Solo and Leia Organa, where Han behaves as an aggressive sexual predator despite Leia's clear rebukes of his advances and it's supposed to be romantic because she's secretly in love with him the whole time.

80's and 90's Hollywood was all about women "playing hard to get". The cultural idea was that "No" means "Keep asking, big boy; I love it when you push my boundaries." Decades later it turned out a lot of people in Hollywood were sexual predators. Imagine that.

And I never really liked any of it. I wanted to see romances between characters who love and cherish each other, and make each other stronger through their mutual connection. I didn't want shows full of Shinji and Asuka romances, I wanted shows full of Frodo and Samwise romances.

This, I think, is why a lot of same-sex ships took off back in the day too; Heroes, especially male heroes, love nobody half as much as they love the best friend who fights by their side. They'll dump their girlfriends on the side of the road to go gallivanting off on a new adventure but they are ride-or-die for their bestie.

And I just. I couldn't help but look at that dynamic and ask, "How come the ride-or-die bestie that the hero's forever loyal to and whose emotional bond takes up half the story, isn't the love interest?" So, like a lot of people, I start shipping those dynamics over the canon ships.

Goku and Bulma aren't really ride-or-die besties. I mean, on Bulma's side, they are. But Goku's the kind of person who goes no contact with everyone for five years without notice and then shows up like "Hey guys, check out this cool technique I learned." Not out of malice or anything; That's just how he is. It's a special event any time you even get to see him. He has no ride-or-die bestie. He lives entirely in the moment.

But back in the day, when I didn't really know Goku or Bulma that well beyond what the dub was doing with Z, they seemed like they fit that mold. And I was about it.

These days, I have a much firmer grasp on the characters and I cannot imagine any version of a Goku and Bulma relationship that wouldn't feel skeevy and predatory on Bulma's part.

With Chi-Chi, there's the context that Chi-Chi's as much of a dimwitted naive backwoods hick as Goku is, so they mutually dumbassed themselves into a domestic situation neither truly understood. Bulma doesn't have that defense. She's cunning, well-educated, and extremely socially aware.

If Bulma and Goku had gotten together instead of Chi-Chi and Goku, it would have felt like Bulma taking advantage of Goku's naivety; Especially when that's literally something she tried to do the first day they ever met.

If Goku were a character that was more socially aware and, y'know, actually interested in romance at all, that would be a different story. But as it is, for both the integrity of the characters and their fantastic relationship with one another? I do think it's probably best that Goku was already spoken for before he became hot enough for Bulma to start considering him as a Himbo Arm-Candy upgrade from Yamcha. (Which she briefly did.)

[annaofaza]

This reminds me of this scene from TriStamp, where Legato's telling Wolfwood that in order to become the perfect tool for Knives and the Eye of Michael:

Wolfwood doesn't need love and connections; those need to die to be the best soldier. Chapel's espoused it, too. It's a fairly common theme for others (mostly elders but that's another meta) to call heroes to not be tethered to earthly attachments. (We see it in Avatar, for instance, and Star Wars... And look how well that ended up for the Jedi and Anakin.)

Evangelicals especially believe that perfect faith means living to go to heaven. To be a true believer means to commit yourself wholly to worship. You're not an individual. I think of Jane Grey's last letter to her sister, Katherine, before she was beheaded after refusing Queen Mary's offer to convert to Catholicism to save her life:

"[This Bible that she sent Katherine] will teach you to live and learn you to die ... Now as touching on my death, rejoice as I do, my dearest sister, that I shall for losing of a mortal life, win one that is immortal, joyful, and everlasting..."

Legato believes himself the perfect soldier for Knives, to whom he's devoted his life. And we all know how pretty obsessed and rabid he is to the mission. (You didn't need to invent the killing game, buddy.)

But emotions and connections are what makes us human! Legato and Chapel's philosophies are what Vash rejects! That's what his friends, both alive and deceased, have come to believe, who are arguably richer for having those things in their lives.

And Legato himself isn't immune to petty, earthly desires:

See also: Legato sobbing as he sees nearly-dead Knives post-July:

What does Legato get for his tears, his (pretty much) life-long devotion? Disgust, Knives telling him that it's "annoying," and to basically shut up. SPOILER: And ultimately, his own death.

What does Wolfwood get?

Still death—but genuine peace, knowing he's loved by his old home and his friend. Who buries him, who mourns him, who (figuratively—in '98, this is quite literal) carries him as a talisman to the end. I'd argue that Wolfwood is more fulfilled by his relationship with one of two so-called angels—in all his doubt, fear, anger, and cutting arguments.

And afterwards? SPOILER: Knives doesn't get a mourning panel for Legato or even a simple complaint of "you killed my best servant." Wolfwood is beloved. Wolfwood is remembered by Vash, by Livio, by the people of No Man's Land (so says "Les Enfants"). Wolfwood is the one who's immortal.

I mean, at the end of the day, you can argue: Who cares? Both of them are dead. That's fair enough. But I think Nightow is conveying much, much more than that.

Side note: In terms of full individual sacrifice, the Bible says different things. (What else is new?) Via Jesus: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” and also “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’” So fuck if I know.

[head-empty-just-sigma]

so y’all remember this post i made about skk

well i’m gonna expand on it a lil bit because i swear i learn new things every day and one of those things is that Chuuya really deserves a fucking break (…/hj)

okay but seriously, the more i think about all the other skk moments where Dazai makes these big brain plans that ensure that, while it’s most definitely still dangerous, both him and Chuuya will win the fight and walk away from it alive at the very least. but in chapter 101… Dazai made and executed a plan that he thought had a good likelihood of defeating the enemy. but, it also put Chuuya in a situation where he actually could have died. and now Dazai’s in a perilous situation with, as far as we know, no one to help him. and i just wanna explore some new context and expand on a lil theory i came up with as to why this arc is important for skk (plus bonus theory! Dazai really fucked up this time and now he has to find a way to not actually die. i have a few ideas)

🔺spoiler warning for chapters 95, 98, 101, 105.5, 106 and 106.5 and the end of Beast🔻

god this is so long im sorry **i added a tldr under the cut for those of you who just want my rambling ass to get straight to the point 😭

TLDR because this thing is so FREAKING LONG OH MY GAWD

So while Dazai was in the prison, based on his reaction to Chuuya’s arrival being more anger than shock and his instigation of ‘one of them dying’ (talking to Fyodor), there’s reason to believe that Dazai and Ango had set up a plan involving Chuuya somehow breaking Dazai out of the prison on the same day Nikolai arrived. On top of this, Dazai’s character development is finally coming to the forefront in trying to save Sigma and keep him alive, as well as the remorse for trapping Chuuya with Fyodor in the water in order to buy himself time to escape ahead of Fyodor (instead of killing him there, since he knew that wouldn’t be enough to kill Chuuya as Dazai would never do that even if it meant sabotaging his own plans). And at the very end of chapt 106.5, his fall to his death could be prevented by a number of things including Chuuya coming out of vampirism and saving him, but it would also be interesting to see how skk’s relationship changes now that Dazai has to save himself and has so clearly changed from the time when he worked with Chuuya and relied on him to save him from danger (see: Lovecraft fight, Dead Apple & DA prologue). It’s also possible that Sigma will be used as a distraction for Fyodor and Nikolai while skk work their stuff and Dazai 100% still has the potential to win even in the bottom of the elevator shaft so long as he can get the antidote to the poison.

Starting in chapter 95, Dazai was the one who initially mentioned escaping (or dying). It was as if he knew something was going to happen soon that would lead to their eventual conflict to escape or at least some kind of confrontation that would end with one of their deaths. However, he is still caught off guard when Fyodor disappears from his cell first, and then was also surprised when the floor was literally opened up below him by Nikolai. Considering Fyodor didn’t seem to be planning an escape at the same time Dazai had mentioned it, if his reaction to Dazai is anything to go off of anyway, it’s clear that he had not planned for Nikolai to be there to bail him out of jail early. Therefore, it’s more likely that Dazai knew someone was on their way to break them out, and was planting the seed of the idea that one of them was going to die in the process.

It's also further proof that neither Dazai nor Fyodor had planned on Nikolai being there when they take a minute to assess the situation before Nikolai explains his 'Gogol Game', meaning they had to deduce what was happening in the moment instead of relying on a plan they already had laid out. Nikolai pretty much set into motion that one of them will, in fact, be dying at the end of this game if the poison is real and there truly is only one antidote. It doesn't matter who outsmarts who, because even Dazai could win at the bottom of the elevator so long as he can get his hands on the antidote (through Sigma or Chuuya, perhaps?).

Then we have his confession that he listens to the voices in his head him telling Sigma that there’s an “angel” talking to him in chapter 98. We already know that the “angel” is actually Ango, and the reason why I’m bringing it up is because of the context of the situation here.

Sigma and Dazai both hear loud noises coming from the prison floors above them. Dazai deduces that it’s not being caused by Nikolai, and not a result of Nikolai and Sigma breaking in, but before he even makes this analysis he says “It’s an intruder”. I find it odd that he would say this, considering there’s no way for them to know if there is a new intruder or if it’s the prison itself going into some kind of lockdown, or if it is in fact Nikolai causing chaos. Sigma calls this into question as well, asking how Dazai knows this, and the funny man says “an angel told him”. Without knowing Ango is communicating with him from the outside, this could have been taken as a typical Dazai one-off response deflecting the fact that he’s just stupidly smart, but it’s not. It’s referencing Ango giving him information. However, when did Ango communicate the situation to him then if it’s unfolding that very moment?

I think we can tell when if we look at this specific page here:

Right before they hear the loud noise, Dazai is being his usual goofy and mildly insane self, much to Sigma’s dismay, and then he suddenly just stops and turns around. Even for Dazai this behavior is odd, and what’s more, he randomly wants to now go to the employee service room when he literally had no concrete goal in mind just a few seconds ago when he was dancing around with Sigma and saying he wanted to go sightseeing (in hell). There’s even a panel of him looking like he just found something out or realized something, but it barely lasts more than a moment and Sigma doesn’t call attention to it. I believe that one panel signifies Dazai reacting to Ango sending him some last minute information on the situation at the prison, like he does every day, but this time it’s that there is an intruder in the prison. Or perhaps telling him that Chuuya arrived?

Considering they already know Nikolai and Sigma are there, this explains why Dazai would deduce that the commotion is caused by someone other than Nikolai getting bored waiting for the two stupid smart people to start drowning each other. He also says there’s only one possible answer to who that intruder is, which I’ll get to later so just hold on to that thought for now…

Chapter 101 is where it’s revealed that Dazai doesn’t have escape as his top priority right now, it’s actually to kill Fyodor while they’re still in the prison. He also explains how Ango is communicating to him with the time-stopping ability user. So with that information, and the fact that it seems like Dazai can request time to be stopped as well given he uses his advantage of being a walking anti-ability entity to waltz into the central command room and knock out all the guards while time is stopped for them, there’s good reason to believe that he had been planning something already with Ango to get him out of the prison prior to Nikolai's appearance.

Of course, Dazai is confident that they can beat Fyodor even though he has Chuuya under his ‘control’ (which is questionable at best at this point), because he’s been coming up with ways to kill Chuuya for seven years blah blah typical skk stuff… But it’s also interesting that Dazai would say this now, when in just a few minutes when he thinks he’s trapped Chuuya and Fyodor in a room to drown, he acts like he hates what he did. I also think this is why he’s being so overly goofy with Sigma, because it’s his default method of masking how he’s actually feeling. Whenever we see him not goofing off, his expression is usually partially hidden from view, and/or much more serious. Another thing of note is that while, yes he was probably apologizing for 'trapping' Chuuya like this, he was also apologizing because Dazai knew that if he failed to kill Fyodor here, he was going to be the one in a perilous situation. This is what is currently going on in chapter 106.5, as Fyodor sabotaged the elevator to fall and Dazai prioritized saving Sigma over himself not once, but twice in the span of a few pages.

And what is the other consistency we usually see with skk? Chuuya is there to bail Dazai out of these situations. This is what happened during their fight versus Lovecraft, where Dazai got hurt because nullification wouldn't work, and Chuuya had to get them out. This is also what happened in Dead Apple where Dazai was literally dead until Chuuya showed up and risked dying to save him, and even in Dead Apple’s prologue when he had to save Dazai from an enemy organization.

But now, Chuuya isn't there. He isn't there and Dazai is falling to his probable death.

The elevator trap was set up by Fyodor himself, which is why the water set itself on fire in 106... But besides that, it's clear that Dazai tampering with the electronics in the elevator was probably him locating the mechanisms to open the doors, therefore making it so that there are 'no traps', and would explain how he knew where to shoot in chapt 106.5 when he shot the mechanism keeping the door shut.

Fyodor's comment on skk having a shallow bond feels almost out of place for him. He's not usually one to brag, much less about how he can wield someone's boyfriend better than them. I also think his little monologue here was partially payback for Dazai's guy speech back in chapt 101. However, I think Fyodor is wrong to try and say Dazai didn't foresee Chuuya getting out of the situation, because he absolutely would have. I think trapping them in the room like that was less of a play to kill Fyodor and Chuuya together, but to buy time in order to reach the exit. There’s no way Dazai would be willing to actually kill Chuuya just to get rid of Fyodor if he can help it, meaning he’s probably buying time and waiting for the poison to kick in since Chuuya wouldn’t be effected by it. At the end of the day, the one who is going to win will be the one with the antidote from Nikolai, and that could still be Dazai.

This is probably the most serious we’ve ever seen Dazai for a prolonged period of time. And it’s not even because he’s focused on saving his own life in order to escape the prison.

It’s because he’s focused on saving Sigma.

I believe his plan here is to allow Sigma to be reunited with Fyodor and/or Nikolai, but now with the knowledge that they will most likely be planning to kill Sigma by the end of it so no one knows what happened to Dazai. However, the fact of the matter is that the two of them believe Sigma would not try to kill them first, and I don't think he's going to do something like that either. I think Dazai is most likely using Sigma as some kind of distraction for Fyodor and Nikolai while Chuuya comes out of his vampirism. If Chuuya was conscious enough to understand Dazai’s speech in chapt 101, there’s no way he’d sit by while Dazai falls to his death. A lot of people have been pointing out this box in this official art:

Saying that the box looks a lot like the elevator:

Which is a vital component of the prison that Dazai or Fyodor would have to use in order to reach the exit, and the marking on it looks similar to the markings that appear on Chuuya during Corruption. This could be hinting towards Chuuya slowing or stopping the elevator somehow with Dazai inside of it, but I’m not sure how since Dazai would have to not be touching the elevator for that to work, but if the elevator stops while he’s floating in it, it would be no different than him hitting the ground… So I guess we’ll see what happens.

Moving on from the chapters, here’s my thoughts on Dazai’s reaction to Chuuya being at the prison: he’s not shocked, he’s angry. Why? Because he and Ango had probably been planning on how to get him out of the prison for a little while now in order to stop the vampires, and potentially nullify the effects of the page before Fukuchi can write on it a second time. Similar to Dead Apple, Ango probably called on Chuuya in order to do this since he’d be able to get to Meursault the fastest and would have the best chance at protecting himself from the vampires along the way. So then, how did he get infected? Well, we already know how loyal he is to the Mafia, so he could have been protecting Mori from the vampiric Mafia members and eventually got overwhelmed. As far as we know, there isn’t a single human member anymore (besides maybe Mori), meaning Chuuya would have had to fend off potentially hundreds upon hundreds of vampires dead set on biting Mori in order to cripple the Mafia entirely and remove the threat of Mori’s ability and intelligence coming to the aid of the ADA. Meaning instead of going to Meursault of his own will in order to nab Dazai and leave, he was forced to break in and aid Fyodor under the influence of the vampire virus. Another option was he was simply not working and had no idea the Mafia was infected, as he's not wearing his typical executive attire, he's in something similar to his 15 outfit, making me think he was either going to one of the Mafia's bunkers (Verlaine's, perhaps?) on Mori's orders because he is an executive, or he just was on his day off and suddenly found himself surrounded by familiar vampire faces.

This would explain why Dazai said there’s only one option in there being an intruder in the prison, because he was already waiting for Chuuya to arrive that day to initiate his escape. That is why he told Fyodor it’s about time to figure out which one of them is going to die, because it should have been Fyodor, meaning Fyodor would have been taken out of the ‘game’ while Dazai continued playing, but now alongside everyone else back in Japan. But this didn’t happen, and now Dazai has to change his entire plan on the fly just like Fyodor is doing, taking away any upper hand he would have had with Chuuya.

106.5 also isn’t the first time we’ve seen the words ‘I leave the rest to you’. We saw it in Dead Apple, for what it’s worth, coming from Ango when he sent Chuuya to his potential death to save Dazai. The second time we see it is in Beast, just before Dazai replicates the season 1 opening scene, those are his final words to Atsushi and Akutagawa, before he falls to his death. Does this foreshadow Dazai dying or being fatally injured? I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Killing such a major character in this situation would be somewhat out of left field if it’s Dazai, since he seems to be getting some character development with Sigma in the prison. However, he has pretty limited options here:

Chuuya, if he is no longer under the vampire’s influence, could slow the elevator’s fall like a lot have been predicting because of the official art hint, and the trend of Chuuya bailing Dazai out of situations like this. Dazai might also be able to jump out of the elevator if the doors are still open enough and land on a floor like he pushed Sigma on to, or grab the rungs on the wall of the elevator shaft that some have pointed out. Another option, in my opinion, is to stay in the elevator, because as we saw set up at the beginning of the Gogol Game, the elevators only go between two levels, meaning he would only be falling down one level instead of four. Depending on how much space is between levels, he might be able to survive inside the elevator with minor injuries if he braces himself against the floor of the elevator and prays it doesn’t collapse in on him when it hits the bottom of the elevator shaft. I also toyed with the idea that he could shove the elevator using his body weight and tilt it in order to scrape against either side of the shaft and slow the fall, but given he pushes off the wall to save Sigma and it does nothing to the elevator itself, I’m going to assume the elevator is too heavy for him to tilt like that. However, Chuuya could accomplish a similar feat by hitting the outside of the elevator with the help of a little gravity manipulation, so it’s still possible he could save Dazai. However, what I’m more interested in seeing is how the relationship between Dazai and Chuuya changes after these events… With Dazai now really showing how much he’s changed and developed as a character, and what effect those developments will have on skk going forward.

Anyway, those are all of my current thoughts on the matter! Holy crap this post took forever to finish for some reason BUT it’s done now and until we get a new chapter (in like a week) I don’t have to make my brain hurt mulling over how elevator physics works :’)

[sayakxmi]

[Magi reread] Night 36: The Fog Troupe

This deserves to be here. Look at him go.

I might be overthinking it, but it resembles Amon's silhouette.

Heh. Fire Demon.

Y'know. Bc the djinns are based on demons from The Lesser Key of Solomon? Ha? Ok, I'll just shut up.

Alibaba should be given more chances to actually look hot. Like, bro.

You know? Fair.

Oh, so that's what happened. Yea, having Amon gave them a better chance at escaping, so they could absolutely get more bold. And associating the Fog Troupe with a guy that can summon a FIre Tornado... Yea, very understandable freakout.

"reduced to a thief" shut the fuck up.

Oh, yeah, definitely Cassim's idea.

Also, what's your problem with thieves? Your goddamn adviser is an ex-assassin, but a THIEF is too much? Didn't you also condone stealing like a chapter or two ago? With these starving people? But NOW it's a problem?

So, I don't want to write a tw again, but in very short, the SML Brothers saved a woman from being SA'ed, so I guess they're relatively decent. Well, slavery is ok, but they draw the line here, I guess.

Oh, finally, the Fan problem addressed.

Overall, lot's of talking abt how things are going. Short answer: bad. "This country has no gold currency left."

Sus person, and then the meeting. Also, holy shit, look at Alibaba at the top. He's literally drawn in a way like he's shining there. I wonder how that building looks, is there a hole/window at the top? Was it just for aesthetic reasons that Ohtaka made it look like this, or was it also part of whatever the fuck Cassim was trying to achieve? In this case, same as before - look at Alibaba, all of you. Look at him, and not the person controlling him from the shadows.

Ughhh. That bitch.

It's a threat. As in, the three are absolutely threatening them, I just feel it, y'know? It's, like, a challenge. You sure want to try us? And anyway, Cassim looks almost friendly, and Alibaba looks menacing, which we know they neither actually is. Though, to be fair, as long as they aren't nobles, Cassim might look at them a little more favorably, so, honestly, they might not be threatening them. But it still feels like a threat. But, like, maybe I'm biased, maybe it isn't...

Anyway, this is how my brain works, heh

Alibaba can be scary when he tries to.

I don't know, it's kinda funny that they'll later end up helping Alibaba out just because. Like, I genuinely don't remember when did their attitude change. I'm genuinely curious.

THERE IT IS. We find out SO EARLY that Alibaba's just following Cassim, but I'll have you one better soon.

No, he's not.

Like, I had to put them all for photo limit reasons, but also bc of how damn important all of it is. We find out SO EARLY that Cassim is emotionally manipulating Alibaba. Where do I even begin in all of this!

Cassim is an insane character. As in, it's the type you hate for 98% of the arc, and then you fucking cry for him, and these early moments always remind me WHY you start off by hating the guy. He's using their shared past to keep Alibaba around, to have him lie and do what Cassim tells him to do. He speaks about the children, he appeals to Alibaba and his own childhood, and Alibaba's a deeply empathetic person, of course it works. Then he makes a point that it has to be Alibaba who helps them, nobody else. And even guilt trips him numerous times in the conversation. You're the one who left (you abandoned us, chose royalty over family), make sure these children won't die like my (our) sister (you weren't there when that happened, you did NOTHING, even though you were in the palace). I BEG you, stay with me and let's fight together like we used to (you are the one who wants to stay, so I'll let you, but only if you help me).

Like, god. it was intense. And the worst part is - Alibaba knows. He knows that Cassim is manipulating him, and he knows that their current relationship is dangerously conditional. If he doesn't do what Cassim tells him to do, he'll be kicked out at best, and then what? Then he'll be alone, and what about Balbadd? What about these children? What can he do, then? Cassim's the idea person, he's always been the one in charge between the two of them. How can he help Balbadd without Cassim?

All of this is so painful, man. Have some Alibaba failing to smoke.

Bro, don't worry, it's healthier that way.

Bro, I'm so sad ;_;

: (

Lmao.

Scary.

This is still hilarious.

Ouch

I still wonder what the hell is his scent.

He looks so sad, actually.

Man, he's such an emotional wreck this entire arc, god.

You know, I absolutely support your judgement Morgiana, but also, sometimes people don't want to talk about things.

It's a semi-joke, Morgiana wouldn't be prying if there was no good reason for it.

Aaaand, the image limit, of course, so we're skipping Alibaba being sexist. Tho, to be fair, it sounded like his last resort argument, shitty as it was, and Morgiana justifiably just looked at him. Dunno, I always wonder how serious Alibaba's sexism is, because, frankly, it appears... maybe three times? Also, twice towards Morgiana, and one towards Toto in some extra. Actually, maybe four, but it's 3 with Morgiana, then. It's actually my bone to pick with their relationship (well, one of many), because as much as I love Alibaba, and I am mostly indifferent to Morgiana, I don't like the way Ohtaka makes him treat her at times, and I think she deserves better. And it's just so weird, he doesn't treat Kougyoku like that, for example. It's not like it's something about strong women, because Kougyoku could beat his ass for sure... and also he actually finds Morgiana & her strength awesome. I dunno. It'll probably take me some time to figure out my thoughts about it. Idk, it might be something internalized (given the period they live in, it's a possibility), or maybe he's just repeating after people... actually, now that I'm thinking, his wording sounded like something Sinbad would've said, ngl, and Sinbad is kinda sexist, so maybe it's all connected... How much does he mean it, though? Idk, I'm thinking abt that scene in the Final Arc after they argued (eh, we'll get there), and how he's like I won't apologize to a woman (which is weird, bc he apologized to Kougyoku earlier that arc, my mind tells me it happened twice, but I'm not sure - at least once for not telling her about Zepar), but when Morgiana gets there they both apologize, so he isn't actually "above apologizing to a woman", it's more like he was searching for an excuse, and chose the simplest option... and then didn't even follow on what he'd himself said. So, like, he's saying sexist stuff at times, but doesn't actually believe it???? Maybe???? I don't fucking know, man.

I deleted some earlier photo to fit in this one, bc it's hilarious. Morgiana takes none of this bullshit. And I find Alibaba's face when she grabs him adorable. I mean, in the last panel it's funny & cute, too.

[yeoldontknow]

the light keeper’s daughter | jhs (m)

A/N: written as fulfillment for the july house games at @bangtansorciere  ❂ To The Lighthouse      ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere​ AU Type: Trident’s Tides (soulmates) Themes: God/Goddess (goddess reader); Secret Relationship Kinks: clit biting; pain kink; size kink; masturbation; degradation; overstimulation; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing

↝ Creative Content Contributor: @jamaisjoons​ for this incredible banner. its literally so stunning ;~; ↝ Pairing: Lighthouse Keeper!Hoseok x Goddess of Light!Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: soulmate au; secret relationship au; gods/goddess au; mentions of an arranged marriage; heavy angst; smut; romance; pining ↝ Rating: NC-17 | 18+ ↝ Summary: For years, you’ve kept your relationship with Hoseok a secret. As the daughter of the God of Light, you are destined to marry anyone who slays the beast in the Gloaming Isles in your honor. When that day finally comes, you go to Hoseok to tell him your relationship must end and you are set to be married. One last time, Hoseok reminds you no one will love you as eternally, as enduringly, as he. ↝ Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language; pregnancy; unprotected sex; creampie; masturbation; clit biting; oral sex (f receiving); pain kink; size kink; overstimulation; light degradation; a brief handjob; impreg kink; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing; crying; biting; marking; scratching; brief mentions of blood ↝ Word Count: 14.7K        ↝ special thank you to @softyoongiionly​ and @kithtaehyung​ for reading through this and being amazing betas! if there are any mistakes left over they are absolutely my own and the fact that 98% of this was written while sprinting owo

Looking at Hoseok, you think, is exactly like being struck by lightning. Which is to say, every time, all the time, looking at Hoseok means you feel him everywhere, all over and all at once. 

Inside the lighthouse, there is no escaping him. 

Pressing your back against the rough concrete of the small light room, you tilt your head to the side as the totality of Hoseok’s warmth, ardor, and fidelity blossoms over you. He flowers deep in the nodes of your lungs, your breath constricted as you take him in, studying the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the way he wears the night as though he is the stars.

In the distance, waves rush to the shore, kissing the land with the same enthusiasm you wish to be kissing him, only to pull away from land; the water shy, anxious of the earth’s response to its affections. Over and over, the sea rolls like thunder. Every now and then, the light that spins overhead refracts downward, illuminating the blood that has rushed to his cheeks. Flushed, his lips part as he processes the words you have just told him, all red and red and red with understanding.

As though he is burning, as though you are not burning for him, your hands clinging tightly to your skirts as you hold your knees against your chest. It should be utterly unfair, you think, for him to appear so beautiful, so exquisite, even as he remains painfully stricken by your words. The searing ache in your chest germinates alongside your love, mind racing with the apologies he deserves. Your bones tremble with the force of remaining still, prepared to reach out and hold his face and tell him it was a lie. You want to smile for him, want to tease him, want to say you’d been terribly silly and that such jokes are best kept for nights when the sky is not clouded, not cold, and instead warmed by your shared rapture. 

How you would like to give him all the kindest, all the softest, words in the world.

‘It can’t be true.’

He’s said this twice, the disbelief in his voice only just winning out against the grief. Hoseok repeats it again, taking a step towards you, eyes cast down to where you have slunk in shame and sadness. Hands limp at his sides, his fingers quake, torn between balling his hands into fists or running through his hair, their resting place for his worry. Deciding on neither, he simply stands tall and stoic, appearing so small in the light that cascades around the room.

You’d glow for him if you could, if you felt like you deserved to illuminate any part of him at all.

Looking away from his woefully dejected expression, you turn your attention to the small gap in the wall beside you. A window once blocked the wind - stained glass, exquisite. It shattered during a storm, on a night when he pressed himself so deep inside you traces of his essence lingered on your tongue. He was deep enough it hurt, rolling into you with enthusiastic vigor. Tonight, the breeze smells of low tide, acrid in the back of your nose and sour, just like your mood.

‘We knew this would happen,’ is your quiet reply. 

A weak and pathetic excuse, you hate the words even as you say them. Shameful, you think with a grimace, to have pretended that you could have a happy ending, that convincing your father would have been simple. The lies you told yourself and Hoseok, the platitudes that fell from your lips to comfort him, turn on your now, betrayals stacked against you that weigh heavily your judgement. You’ve been childish, so childish, to assume you could have ever been happy.

Hoseok shakes his head, refusing to accept your answer. All fury and rage, he comes to stand before you and lowers to his knees, demanding you look at him. His presence is a live wire, the heat and energy from his skin is vital, a pull against yours that makes you regard him once more, confronted by his enduring beauty. Flooding your vision, he is all you see, all you can fathom, your world beginning and ending with his pleading eyes. 

‘But it’s been years,’ he argues, the high pitched tone of his voice wavering and taught with emotion. He’s older than you, physically, but at this moment he has never been so young, so small, so gloriously human. ‘Centuries even. It’s unfair to you.’

A huff of breath rushes through your nose, your scoff ripe with bitterness. ‘Someone finally slayed the Sydral, as archaic as this ritual actually is. My father said I should have always expected it.’

‘And so now…’ Hoseok’s voice drifts, falling back onto his knees crestfallen. The corner of his lips drop into the beginnings of a deep frown, all manner and will to fight rapidly dissipating.

‘I have to marry them,’ you nod, answering his unspoken question.

For a long while, you hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the umber of his irises and missing the mirth that usually ignites their sparkle. It is just his breath that cascades over your skin, just the waves that rush beyond the light room, just the world that seems to turn onward, without you, time passing without either of you truly acknowledging it. In this silence, you see your history, your every moment spent with him: the day you met; the day he could not help himself any longer and kissed you soundly, without restraint; the first moment you told him you loved him; the first moment he said he needed you; the plastic ring he won at the pier arcade - extraordinary in all its ugliness - and the gentle, reverent, way he slid it over your finger, calling it a promise of fidelity. 

In Hoseok, you see it all. 

Similarly, he drowns in you, the pink of his cheeks deepening to rose with each passing breath. Posture falling slack, the strap of his ride suspender slips from his shoulder, the collar of his linen shirt loosening with the lack of restraint. A sliver of his collarbone becomes exposed, golden and rich, a tantalizing patch of skin you would caress and kiss if only the circumstances had been different. You wonder idly what he remembers of you, what he sees in your own dispirited expression. You wonder if he remembers the way he loved you, the way he loved you beyond your light and into your darkness. 

You wonder if he remembers the way he ate your shadows - with his whole mouth, with fervor, with pride. You wonder if he remembers the way you devoured him just the same. 

‘This is ridiculous,’ he announces, finally. Turning to look out the window, he regards the sky solemnly, the curve of his profile imposing in its majesty. Eyes narrowed, it is the harshest he has ever looked, devoid of forgiveness. ‘It’s supposed to be me.’

Swiftly, you shake your head, adamant in your disagreement. You reach for him, leaning forward to rest your hand against his chest, against his heart where it thunders in his sternum. Warmth from his skin radiates into your blood, taking root between your joints. Hoseok worms his way into pieces of your spirit long left abandoned, and you swallow thickly, wondering if such affection as this is normal, if it’s always this way.

‘I’d never have let you.’ Your dispute is biting, sharp enough Hoseok turns his eyes back to you, jaw clenched and tight with silent fury. ‘You’re human. It would have killed you. And then where would I be?’

‘You’d be sitting where I am,’ he argues, emphatic. 

Reaching for your hand where it rests, he covers it with his own, lifting it slightly to twine his fingers with yours. Unable to help himself, he inches closer, running his thumb over your knuckles and sending shivers along your nerves. Like always, his touch is a wildfire, the electric kinetic energy needed to set you aglow. Your mind swims with him the same way your body becomes whelmed by his devotion, but he does not let himself become distracted. 

‘Do you even understand?’ Voice little more than a whisper, Hoseok’s gaze is penetrating, a bite to his veneration that demands your complete attention. Tilting his head to the side, he continues. ‘You think I wouldn’t die for you?’

You squeeze his hand with tenacity, acknowledging his sentiment, but he does not see all the things you have witnessed. He does not know the true menace of the Sydral, does not know its tricks, its many heads, its speed, its cunning; Hoseok would die for you, and death would find him quickly. 

Instead, you offer him a small smile, one that is so fragile and close to breaking. Hoseok’s intensity burns within your chest, transforming his softness into the valor of a man that leaves you breathless. Salvaging your own strength, you lower your gaze to the white collar of his shirt, to the soft linen and the expanse of his throat where he swallows. This you can regard with pleasure, can regard without fearing you may shatter.

And so you smile, finding the will to fight him once more. ‘The problem,’ you begin, hoping the earnestness of your smile is enough to cool the rage that boils in his throat, ‘is that I know you would. And I would live my life alone, married to him while knowing you are gone. Would you really condemn me to such misery? My darling, I would die to keep you safe.’

This feels like anguish; this feels like dying, you think to yourself, growing ever more despondent the longer you feel Hoseok pleading with the emptiness that lurks behind your eyes. You can’t bear to face him, not when the tightness in your throat becomes a threat, tears lingering on the precipice of spilling. Every time his gaze meets yours it is brutal in its honesty, violent in the way your love and lust tumbles so completely into grief.

‘How long?’ he manages, breathing life to the very question you’d been hoping to avoid. 

Your future is still so far away, distant enough it makes this moment, and every moment to follow, heavy with the pain of imagination. Still, you’ve never been able to deny him anything. 

Once more, you turn to view the window, regarding it with a vacant expression as though you are regarding time itself. ‘You know this is the last time I can see you.’

‘I know,’ he bites out, unwilling to let you dodge the answer. ‘I mean how long until...you’re not mine anymore.’

‘That’s...not possible,’ you offer gently, casting him a solemn, detached grin. ‘I am always going to be yours. Even when I’m in his bed, even when I’m thousands of miles away, even in death, I am yours.’

Hoseok pulls you against him, compelling your complete attention. Eyes wide, you study his face - the resolution of his passion fierce enough to be an earthquake against your sternum, a collision of meeting worlds. His arm winds itself around your waist while he still clutches your hand, the strength of his grip stinging against your knuckles. You tremble against his powerful frame, inhaling the deep scent of cedar and ambergris that always clings to him, the salt of the ocean that lingers on his skin, the dust that has saturated his shirt from the lighthouse, and you; your vanilla and lemon, the brightness of your own natural scent that emanates from your light and always seems to find him, not unlike rays of the sun. 

Your mouth waters at this closeness, his own eyes darkened to a rich black as he studies you seriously. You’ve wounded him - worse, you’ve denied him - and he presses the tips of his fingers into the soft muscles of your back, ensuring you cannot leave him. Not until he is ready to let you go.  

‘You know what I mean,’ he breathes, words lowered to a hiss. If he were a vengeful sort of man, he would be full of venom. Instead, there is only remorse in his insistence.

Closing your eyes, you sigh. ‘Months, most likely. Tomorrow the rituals begin - the seven days feast, the Fate Tying, the Blood Gathering.’ 

When you look at him again, your lower lip begins to quake. Saying the words makes it all feel immediate, tangible, as though your father stands in the dark corners of the light room casting his judgements. You almost feel him there, his presence always so sinister for a man blessed to command the light; he resides in the silent places, giving birth to shadows, prepared to pull you from bliss at a moment's notice. 

‘All this pomp and circumstance from eras bygone,’ you continue, grounding yourself in the firmness of Hoseok’s arms and chest. The bones of his knees press into your thighs; your hand caught between your twin heartbeats; you immerse yourself in the pain of this connection and remind yourself it hurts because he was always meant to be yours. ‘It’s been centuries since a goddess has been married off, and yet somehow I’m the first for such a sentence. The wedding won’t be for at least five months.’

‘Then we have time.’ Hope saturates his words, his hold on you growing ever more unyielding. ‘You can still come to me, we can still see each other,’ he explains quickly, speaking in a rush. ‘No one will have to know.’

Biting your lips, you raise your hand to the soft strands of his hair, carding your fingers through it. All silk and satin, you relish the texture as his desperation soaks into your pores. 

‘I wish that could be true.’ Even as you speak, you focus on his hair, committing these small details to memory. The curve of his bang in the center of his forehead, the deep amber and dark sienna and all the golden highlights that come to life in the daylight, the way all of him, every piece, is soft enough to break you. Yes, you focus on it all. ‘All the Old Gods will be gathering in Teylim. There will be more eyes on me than ever before. Ladies coming to fuss over my hair, my clothes, the oils I wear; men worshiping Daeus like he’s some kind of king when, really, he’s just lucky enough to be half of a god. I won’t be able to get away.’

Hoseok’s eyes roam your face, wild and storming, waiting for you to amend your answer. When you do not speak, his brow furrows and he exhales, a small whimper released from the center of his breaking heart. ‘So this is it, then? This is really it?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ you whisper, moving your hand from his hair to cup his cheek. 

He presses himself into your touch, turning just slightly to kiss delicately at your palm. The sweetness of his tenderness splinters the last of your courage, the tears you’ve so valiantly held back starting to burn as they spill over to your cheeks. 

‘I wish it could be different,’ you plead - with everyone and no one at all. ‘I wish for it everyday. Hoseok, I can’t -’ Distraught, you choke on your own words, and Hoseok pulls you firmly against him, resting your head against his shoulder. ‘I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.’

Hoseok says nothing at all as you dampen his shirt, tears spilling into the linen as you struggle not to collapse against him completely. When you are finally alone, you will succumb to the sorrow that has learned to occupy every chamber of your heart. When you are finally alone, you will eat the spirit of rage with teeth and fangs, and you will let the darkness have you, refusing to let the light erupt from your skin. But for now, you let the tears arrive of their own accord, aware that you are suddenly too sad to even weep, tears dripping into his shirt as means to remain a part of him.

Against you, Hoseok’s breath becomes uneven, his own shoulders shuddering as he minds his own heroism, fighting back his own tears. He quivers against you, his stuttering breath exhaled through his nose as he maintains his composure. The light room becomes almost too quiet, the blood rushing your ears drowning out the sound of the sea, narrowing your focus to just the shared heat between your bodies. You inch closer, removing any space that could exist between you, extinguishing any oxygen that would dare to separate you from him. What you would give for a thunderstorm, any sound at all to give life to the end of love, to the start of the war of loving. 

Unable to stomach the quiet any longer, your mind seems to become unhinged. All the tiny, miserable little thoughts Hoseok’s love kept locked away worm their way past your lips, erupting to life as though your heartbreak has given them permission to persecute you. 

‘I wish you never found me,’ you mumble, almost incoherent. Your tongue fumbles with the words, caught between weeping and speaking, making a mess of so much more than just his shirt. ‘I wish you never saw me. I could love you like that, on my own, from a distance. I could be strong enough to move through life not knowing you, loving only the idea of you. You’re so much more than anything my mind could have fabricated out of childish desire. The reality of you is heaven. And now, I’m hurting you. I should die for such a transgression.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Hoseok pulls, easing you back and lifting both his hands to cup your face. Briefly you mourn the loss of his fingers and knuckles so rough against yours, but cradled between his palms, your skin tingles, making a festival out of this contact and celebrating the nuance of his fingerprints. He looks down into you, deep enough you feel him taking root in the center of your belly. You love him most when he looks like this - fierce and unforgiving - and you cannot help the way your body responds, aroused simply by the passion of him. ‘Don’t you dare wish that,’ he commands, voice thick. ‘The day we met was the day my life started.’

‘But...’ you struggle to find the words, drifting off with the implication that, now, his life is surely ending.

‘I don’t want to know who I would be without you.’ Hoseok takes his time as he speaks, an art you cannot comprehend. 

Behind his eyes, his mind races, words living and dying before they can reach his tongue. He has so much to say, so many more promises to make, so many more words of affirmation he’d like to give you. You see them all, recognize them all - for they mirror yours, are born from your own likeness; you know them all so well, you feel as though you could reach out and touch them. 

‘I can’t fathom it, I won’t even consider it.’ Shaking his head, he denies this completely, holding onto your stare with a fixation that borders on zealous. ‘You came to me, and it felt like I could breathe. You came to me, and I felt like myself. Loving you makes me better, loving you is partly why I am alive.’

It’s difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat, its size and prowess growing ever larger in the wake of his words. In the oncoming quiet, you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t reminded you of the way you the oncoming storm of his presence before you met him. One look at him and you had seen it all, a life designed by the Fates - marriage, children, hope, happiness. In death he’d have joined you in Teylim, youthful, young, yours. With eternity before you, you’d bask in the rapture and the joyful silliness that comes with forever. 

He felt it, too, saw it in your eyes. On your fourth meeting, he held you against him and promised you his life.

‘I will put my child in your belly,’ he announced, deliberate in the way he enunciated his words. You waited for the shock of such an exclamation to overtake you, but it never came. ‘I can’t explain it,’ he chuckled, amused by his own enthusiasm, ‘but I’m certain of it. I see my unborn children in your eyes. I think this is what the elders mean when they say there is always a plan, and you will always know it the moment you find it. I’m so certain my whole life is tied to yours.’

The memory burns within your mind, a scorch of greed mixing immediately with longing. You wish the fire of it would incinerate it to ash, that it would vanish altogether before the Fate Tying. You can handle all of these frivolous little rituals, sure of yourself and your own strength, but the Fate Tying means to unmake you. At just the thought, your stomach begins to sink. 

You will sit, hands clasped on your amber throne with the sunlight seeking your hair, your cheeks, your lips; Daeus will smile, wrapped in oak and evergreen, in the earth that flourishes beneath your light; and you will weep, watching as the Moirai unstitch your soul from Hoseok’s, peeling it apart inch by horrible inch, to thread it with the ugliness of Daeus’ strands. You will wonder, mouth dry and eyes wet, why the Moirai would bother making a man for you, would bother weaving your spirits together, only to unravel the work they had done, the love you had found. 

The movement of Hoseok’s gentle caress, pads of his thumbs running across the bones of your cheeks, returns you to the present moment. Once more he whimpers, doing his best to keep you grounded with him, unwilling to lose you before he absolutely must. Digging your nails into his shoulder as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, you wallow with him, knowing that, just like him, you don’t know who you would have become without him.

‘What do we do?’ you manage, reduced to a more pathetic version of yourself as you plead with him. Anyone else, and you’d be ashamed to appear so weak. ‘How do I do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ is all he can provide. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Promise me -’ You cut yourself off, not entirely certain where the idea comes from, what part of you would willingly propose such a request, the meaning of what you had intended to say catching up to your mind the moment you heard your own voice. Hoseok waits patiently, and you lower your gaze to the curvature of his lips, wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss him, knowing your next words will scar you both. ‘Promise me you’ll find someone else. Promise me you’ll be happy.’

Without any hesitation, he scoffs, dismissing the idea altogether. ‘Don’t ask me to tell a lie.’ 

‘I can’t, Hoseok.’ Now, it is your turn to hold his face, cupping his cheeks with veneration. Mind reeling, you envision it, certain you could take it. You are certain you would die for less. ‘I can’t do this if I spend my life knowing you’ll be unhappy. I can’t do this knowing you’re alone.’

Slowly, gently, Hoseok lets the tip of his nose press against yours, rubbing it back and forth, back and forth. Breath  a deluge down and over your lips and skin, he somehow finds it within himself to smile, empty of all amusement. 

‘It’s so unfair of you to expect that I could be happy with anyone but you,’ he chastises. ‘I’d rather be alone, utterly and completely, than to be lonely with someone. They deserve better than someone who is with them out of loyalty to another person - a promise kept to the person they truly love.’

His rejection and refusal of your plea inspires a thrill in the pit of your stomach, all manner of possessive pleasure coursing through your veins. How easily he turns you into a selfish woman, how quickly his promises of fidelity make you lose all sight of strength and future vision. What sort of man is Hoseok that he should have such dominion over you, you think to yourself. But then, you know. You know as you have always known: Hoseok is your man, your lover, your soul.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, just as he had done, reverently, adoringly, you bite your lip and feel your exhale shake. ‘So what will you do?’

‘I’ll do as I’ve always done,’ he shrugs, as though the very thought is not a bruise within his ribs. ‘I’ll keep the lighthouse. Every night, I’ll let the beacon burn, and keep the light on. Even on clear days, I will let the light shine.’ Hoseok smiles as he says this, the first real smile he has managed since he saw you on the shore this evening, waiting, just like always. ‘When you’re up there, perhaps you will see the light.’ 

He shifts his gaze to the roof of the light house, looking up and beyond, past the clouds, up to the seat of the gods. Furrowing his brow, he hardens his jaw just slightly, eyes turning dark as he demands your father witness him. 

When he looks at you again, he is a changed man - a boy trapped in the throes of love, and a man on the verge of letting himself perish.

‘Maybe up there,’ he murmurs, ‘you will see my light and know that I’m burning for you, just as I’ve always been. I’ll continue to love you. I’ll be good, I’ll be pious, and maybe when I die we will meet in Teylim and even in death I’ll watch you, staying close to your light like a bird in flight.’

‘Hoseok.’ The quiver of your bottom lip disrupts the cadence of his name, besmirching it to little more than a sob.

Sucking air through his teeth, Hoseok leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes fall shut. At such close proximity, you study the almost feminine length of his eyelashes, the pores of his skin, and wonder who or what god or demon you could barter with to stay inside him forever.

‘You’re supposed to be mine,’ he whimpers, the sadness welling up in him like a mountain. ‘You are mine, but…I will always be yours. Even when they untie us, I’ll be yours. They can’t thread me with anyone else. I don’t think my soul will allow it.’ 

Unable to sustain it any longer, your desire for him rises to a swell, erupting beside your sorrow - just as fervent, and even more unyielding. His words are a comfort, an echo you will revisit over and over when you have long departed, but your skin has learned how to ache for his touch, learned how to anticipate the way he moves over you like water, and you need it. You need him. 

The rest of your pitiful existence looms out before you, days and months and centuries passing without Hoseok to hold you and keep you, and you despise the very notion of it. You rebuke it, refusing to let yourself continue on without knowing how it feels to have him. Tonight, you do not want him as your lover.

Tonight, you want him as your husband.

‘Kiss me,’ you announce, guiding his forehead away from yours, skin prickling with the lack of his warmth. ‘Kiss me like it’s our wedding. I -’ The tightness of your voice steals your breath, words hot and heavy in your mouth as you say them. ‘I want to know what a marriage bed truly feels like. I want to know what our marriage bed would be like.’

Mad with an unbearable passion, no longer contained, Hoseok heeds your words and lets his tongue wander over the seam of your lips. You cling to him, clutching what you can of his shape, his body, and you sigh in woeful euphoria, granting him unspoken entry to the recesses of your mouth - but he does not enter. Your lover has always been disobedient, reckless in the evening when your skin and your lips and your heart are presented to him, and tonight he is no different. Tonight, he scorns the hour, taking his time as he traces over your cupid’s bow with his tongue, rendering the turn of the earth meaningless. The heat of his breath tickles your skin, a cascade in which you luxuriate, and your eyes, blurred by the urgency of your desire, lose all sense of your surroundings until there is only Hoseok. 

Hoseok - on you, around you, all over you, the rain and the wind all at once.

Only when he has had his fill of your lips does he press the whole of his mouth against yours, sucking languidly at your bottom lip. Skin growing tight, you keen into his kiss, consumed by greed. Slowly, he moves his hands down and down, letting his fingers trace indeterminate lines over your cheeks, your jaw, your bones until they rest at your neck. With his palm over your pulse, he holds you still, his touch a fever, his touch the sun, radiating deep into the caverns of your heart. 

Filled with him, you think. Absolutely alive with him, Hoseok lets his palm cradle the tether of your life until you are certain he is the oxygen made to sustain your mortal form. You, living and breathing, are little more than remnants of departed touches, composed entirely of his affections, his affirmations, his adoration.

So, too, do you kiss at him, battling against him for any semblance of permanence, demanding that you be remembered. Feeling you writhe against him, insistent in your need for closeness, he hums in pleasure, a musical sound that traverses your synapsis with unhurried ease. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, either by a passing breeze or the way Hoseok leans in, harder, rougher, all manner of dominance in the way he so desperately seeks to have you, and you shiver, delighted by the peak in your senses; delighted, fundamentally, that you will commit every moment of this last evening to bodily memory.

Willing to be devoured, you surrender to him, feeling arousal leak from between your folds as though his savagery has given it permission to spill over. It soaks into your underwear where you briefly mourn the fact that it will not coat your thighs, not yet, and that Hoseok must wait to see how easily you could paint yourself in your wanting. Like always, he anticipates you and ardent your longing; perceptive and always acutely aware of the way you have grown wanton. depraved by the strength of his kisses alone. 

Hoseok eases his hand to the back of your neck, determination apparent in his grip, and guides you forward to rest in his lap. Letting your legs settle on either side of his thighs, you straddle him, unwilling to break any contact he has with you, your skin, you, your hands on him. You come together like a cataclysm, the burgeoning tip of his erection firm and stubborn where it presses against your core, assertive and tantalizing even beneath the fabric of his trousers. 

It’s lewd the way you crave him deep inside you, jaw dropping as your mouth opens wide to gasp in delight. Hoseok wastes no time in letting his tongue glide against yours, explorative and eager, utterly deliberate in his stroking. Slowly, the tips of his fingers move from your neck to your hairline, ever deeper and ever more intrusive. A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he runs his tongue over yours, grazing the roof of your mouth before he forms a fist in your hair and tilts your head back, swift and aggressive. 

All at once he pulls away, face hovering just centimeters above yours and gaze hooded as he explores your lustful expression. A flush creeps into your cheeks, the control he has over the flow of your blood is always surprising even if it is to be expected. Hoseok seems pleased, evident in the familiar way his eyes have become blackened by the force of his yearning and the smile that has worked its way into the corner of his lips, a secret for only you to discover. He takes a pause, disregarding his haste, to regard you: your parted lips, your heated cheeks - a fire that has spread itself over your chests and breasts.

‘You are a vision of sin,’ he murmurs, cocking his head to the side and tightening his grip in your hair. ‘What would all the gods say?’

Your own nails scratch tenderly into his scalp, gripping his hair to mirror his hold on you. Futile, you know. The strength in Hoseok is silent, a gift that makes him appear merely pretty until the seat of his power is fully revealed, a fortitude you could never mimic.

You swallow, preparing to speak, and watch the way Hoseok studies the movement of your throat. ‘They would call me a harlot.’ 

His gaze returns to yours, an otherwise thoughtful look turned menacing by the terror of his passion. ‘And are you?’

Tongue heavy in your mouth, you struggle with the few words you can manage. ‘They will make me out to be,’ you begin slowly, poignantly, ‘and it will be your fault. You’ve made me a slut.’

You hold onto the word - draping yourself over the “s”, tapping your tongue against the “t” - ensuring it lingers in your mouth long enough for him to taste it. It’s his fault, really, that you will be judged and scorned and shamed for coming to your new husband wholly impure, the construct of your virginity eradicated by Hoseok’s insatiable appetite. It’s his fault, you think, that you want him this much. That you love him this much. Your tongue caresses the word slut like it's your dearest companion, familiar with its shape and texture, and you lean upward, hoping to put it in his mouth. 

If he is half of your soul, then he should learn how it tastes to be utterly reprehensible. 

But he dodges the trajectory of your desires, moves away from your lips and your face entirely, diving down to your chest where he lets his teeth traverse the expanse of your sternum. Lifting his hand from your pulse, he trades one beat of your blood for another, fisting his hand in the collar of your dress to pull it down and expose the thin bit of flesh covering your heart. It thunders in your ears, your body a storm of his making, and you tremble as he positions himself to ravage your very spirit.

His teeth leave scars upon your nerves, eternal echoes within your pores that have you rolling your hips downward in encouragement. Again, you feel him, his cock against your core, enough to have you whimpering as though you are small and fragile, not the maker of your undoing. As punishment for your impertinence, Hoseok takes aim and bites down harshly at the slender bone of your clavicle. 

‘Hoseok!’ 

‘I know you, Sparrow.’ The husk of his breath is an avalanche into the marrow of your bones, the memory of his teeth still reverberating into your lungs. ‘You always like it when it hurts.’

Your skin still stings, yet he is relentless. You quake in his hold as he bites at the bone once again, teeth inlaid perfectly where they had been before. Your skin bends beneath the force, ecstatic hiss descending into a low moan, giving away the truth of how well he truly knows you. The pain grounds you in the moment, allows you, too, to ignore the passage of time, the ebb and flow of the waves as though the tides have halted altogether. You are prettiest when you are red and purple, black and blue by the marks he leaves in his wake, and not once, not even when he breaks your skin to bleeding does he tarnish your light.

In his arms, you are illuminated, glowing with the same intensity as the lighthouse beacon. He’s called you the heavenly sky for the way you glow under his affections, your inability to control your power when he makes you feel so impossibly good turning you into an evening star. You often forget you are blessed with a holy gift, the goddess of light as though your title has any meaning beyond providing you a seat at the table in Teylim. You often forget this is who you really are, someone happy, someone made of magic - a light kindled only under joy.

‘I will make you ache for me,’ he breathes, pushing the collar of your dress lower and lower, threatening to expose your nipple. ‘I want you alight, burning for me. Only me.’

Hoseok kisses deftly at the supple softness of your breast, diligent and greedy. His breath comes ragged, thick in the center of his lungs where he struggles around the insurmountable longing that puts force in his handling of your body. Working his tongue over the skin, he licks the stars out of the constellations of your pores, tasting the dust, the salt, the sea. Your hands run through his hair, messing the thick strands to a state of perilous disorder in your eagerness to move downward to the comforting solidarity of his shoulders.

Grinding your hips into his lap, the tip of his clothed erection slides along your slit, and you release a whimpered exclamation as the cloth of your underwear slips between your folds. Biting your lip, you breathe deep, Hoseok’s own groan of dissatisfaction vibrates into your chest. You feel him deep in your throat, his voice alongside yours, his desire matching yours in intensity. 

Hand leaving your neck in favor of your waist, his grip tightens, fingertips pressing deep circles into the muscles of your back. Thrusting upward, he teases you, laughing darkly to himself with a rough nip to your breast. The motion sends your underwear deeper into your cunt, a pressure to your clit as erotic as it is cruel. It sends a shiver down your spine, inspiring tremors in your nerves that have you clenching your walls around nothing at all, seeking the bulbous head of his cock in need. 

Pleased with himself, he raises himself from your chest to work at the buttons of your dress. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your own rolling back to present you breasts to him like a preening cat. Hungry, he takes the bait, slipping a palm under your dress to cup your breast. He presses against your nipple, a small wine tumbling from your throat to mingle with his whispered expletive. Rolling your nipple between his knuckle, he regards you momentarily, studying your dazed expression. Against him, you are an earthquake unto yourself, a cosmic shift of longing ravaging your blood, and you are pleased by it, offering him a smile of gluttony. 

Abruptly, he releases your breast, hands falling to your hips as he raises to his knees, keeping you against him. Hoseok pushes your hips roughly against his, cock a threatening force against your core as he guides your bodies down to the floor, careful to keep the shift in position painless. Once more, he thrusts at you, and you feel yourself becoming soaked, juices no longer dripping into your underwear but instead crawling slowly down to your ass. The concrete of the floor is chilled, cold enough your back and hips arch indelicately in retreat, causing you to carelessly meet his thrust. 

‘Fuck,’ he mutters, returning his hands to your front as he sits back on his knees. 

Hoseok avoids the buttons over your breasts, choosing instead to undo the buttons just beneath. Continuing onward, he takes his time unwrapping you, hungry for the pieces of your body he will mark as his. The heart of his lips parts on a silent exclamation, mouth falling open as he unveils more of your ample flesh. The light from your skin mixes with the lighthouse beacon, casting shadows of desire in his eyes, rendering him beastly. With his eyes only, he devours you; your body, the fruit of his immense craving. 

Leaving your breasts covered, Hoseok exposes your hips, your stomach, your thighs. Your hardened nipples strain against the fabric, begging for release the same way your core clenches once again around nothing at all, swallowing more of your underwear in an effort to lure him deep inside you. He meant it this way, all too aware your sensitive nipples will tease you to a point of aching the longer they rub against your dress.

The sea breeze cools your skin, so much of you exposed you feel as though you have been submerged in wind and sky. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mourn momentarily that it is not Hoseok that covers you, not yet. Still, you enjoy being naked for him like this - naked, vulnerable, safe, and his. You open your legs further, letting the wind kiss at the wetness of your cunt, your answering grin borderline salacious. How glorious to give everything and hide nothing from him. How glorious to let yourself be worshipped, his eyes starved for the pleasure of your sex. All this joy, and yet your frustration runs over, an overflow occurring with little thought. 

‘It’s not fair,’ you whine, raising your arms to reach for him. ‘Let me undress you.’

Sitting up, you press your hands flat against his chest, becoming attuned with the ample hills and valleys of his muscles. Hoseok sits still and proud, lips reddened and wet from kissing you. Your light ignites the flush that dapples the tips of his ears, skin flushed by lust and longing. Throat running dry, you swallow thickly, committing his unrivaled beauty to memory. You refuse to forget a single moment of this, unwilling to relinquish a single detail of him. 

Slowly, you ease the suspenders from his shoulders, humming in approval at the way the loose linen of his shirt relaxes in its newfound freedom, offering you more of his neck and collarbones. As your fingers work earnestly at his buttons, Hoseok takes his time admiring you, a piercing look both penetrative and heartsick. His hand comes to cover yours, unable to help himself, and he holds it tightly, raising it to his lips. His eyes remain locked on yours as he kisses the pads of your fingers, one by one, before slipping your index and middle finger into his mouth. Your lips part on a sigh that fades just as quickly as it came, feeling his tongue swirl over the digits with purpose. 

And much the same way you did not expect his touch, so too are you caught off guard when he moves your fingers from his mouth and guides it down your stomach. Lower and lower, he guides your hand between your bodies where he slips it beneath your underwear. Your breath hitches, skin wet from his saliva and clit throbbing at the prospect of tangible contact, your own hand an ominous presence resting upon your mound.

‘Touch yourself,’ he commands.

Hoseok is so often the picture of tenderness in the way he makes love to you, always gentle and always mired in the totality of his affections. Occasionally, he is sharp and, occasionally, he is in control - only on days when he is starved, only on days when he is completely ravenous. Tonight, there is no room for argument. Tonight, he makes himself an unrelenting devil, unafraid to exert dominance.

‘Eventually we will remember little of how we undress,’ he explains, pressing your fingers over your mound, dangerously close to your clit. ‘Right now, I need to see the way you will touch yourself for me when I’m no longer around. I want to see it. I want to memorize it. Touch yourself for me.’

Removing his hand from yours, he nudges softly at your shoulder, and you obey immediately. Leaning back on your right elbow, you keep your hand in place as he grabs the band of your underwear and pulls it down. Lifting your hips, your tongue licks at your bottom lip where the skin has become dry and chapped, struggling to catch your breath as your desire becomes oppressive. Falling back on your tailbone, you spread your legs wider still, proud and impish as you slide your fingers down your slip, separating your folds to display your core. 

But he sees nothing as he lifts your underwear to his nose, fisting his hands in the fabric and pressing it against his face. Hoseok breathes in deep,eyes rolling back slightly in the effort of keeping his eyes open, a growl rumbling in his chest like a warning. Exhaling into the cloth, he laughs to himself, a high pitched, small sound of amused embarrassment before he falls completely silent once more. And then, he breathes in again, just as deep, just as fervent, lips kissing at the wet patch you have created.

‘I’m keeping these.’ Easing your underwear away from his nose, he crumples the garment and buries it in the pocket of his trousers. Cocking an eyebrow in pleasure, he takes in your exposed cunt, licking his lips. ‘I’ll fuck myself with them, imagining it’s you and your wet pussy.’

‘Pervert,’ you tease, jutting your chin forward in mock derision.

‘Whore.’ Inspired by your nakedness, he begins to undress, gaze heated and focused on your wet cunt. ‘I told you to touch yourself.’

Your fingers easily breach the barrier of your folds upon their release, wet with Hoseok’s spit and your walls slick and dripping with your juices. Years ago, you would have been ashamed of being so soaked, a damp patch expanding in the concrete beneath you in visible proof. But you no longer care, not when Hoseok’s expression of thirst is so incorrigible. 

You fuck yourself with your hand, fighting the urge to tilt your head back in relief - small as it is. In the heat of your lonely nights, you find it tragic your fingers never reach as deep as Hoseok’s slender digits; yours are too slim, knuckles not nearly as rough or pronounced. And when your mind drifts dangerously to thoughts of girth, your eyes drop swiftly to the pronounced shape of Hoseok’s straining cock. Swallowing the weep of appreciation that builds in your chest, your teeth chew at your bottom lip, clinging in anticipation.

Pressing the base of your palm against the hood of your clit, you whimper. Mild and meek as it is, your fingers bring a temporary relief, this satisfaction fleeting, and it will not be long before you are begging him to fill you. 

‘You’re dripping,’ he comments, interrupting your thoughts and removing his shirt in one swift motion. ‘Are you sure you’re not the princess of water? If I kiss your cunt I might drown.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

While not truly a detailed explanation, the words carry the weight of your whole chest, erupting with little thought. Your mind offers the only logical explanation for your wetness it can manage while your body grapples with the implication of Hoseok’s mouth upon your core. 

‘Say it again,’ he orders, hands tugging harshly at the zip of his trousers.

A slow smile spreads over your lips, head cocking to the side as you admire his eager expression. ‘I’m in love with you.’

‘Again.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

This time, you say it with venom, as though you want it to hurt and hope that it will leave scars in its wake. Hoseok tugs his trousers down his thighs, rising to his knees, appearing regal and godly. Freed from its cloth restraints, his cock springs upward to rest against his stomach, and he smirks, chest and neck flushed as your focus shifts immediately to the purpled bulbous head. 

Without hesitation, you remove yourself from your folds, the ache at your core only minutely grieving the loss of your small hand. Instead, you reach for him, fingers slick with your juices as you grasp the base of his cock with a gentle squeeze. He’s heavy in your hand, rigid in the solid way that makes your walls clench and drip once more, mirroring the way your mouth waters. Slowly, you move your hand up and down the shaft, letting your thumb rub over the leaking tip with care. 

Hoseok’s breath hitches, his hips thrusting slightly into your hand as you pleasure him. His own hands clutch at his discarded clothes, doing his best to exercise his dwindling patience, and you repeat motion, admiring the smoothness of the skin in contrast to the veins of his shaft.

‘I always wonder how you will fit inside me,’ you comment, moving your hand back down and studying the way your fingers do not meet your thumb. ‘You’re so thick.’

He rolls his shoulders back in the aftermath of your praise, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Hoseok is always free with his praises, showering you in worship and stating it is his duty to devote himself to the goddess in his favor. Always, he does this, and always he seeks nothing in return. But you have always sensed, as attuned to him as you are, that praise from you sets his soul afire. One word of praise from you and you are certain he could eat the god of Daeus entirely, rendering him completely human.

‘You were made for me,’ he explains, voice taught and words strained. Unable to hold back, he fucks your fist, seeking relief. ‘You will always stretch to accommodate me, just like your life was meant to. Just like your belly was meant to, stretching with my children.’ His gaze is penetrative, deeply serious for such an obscene state of being. ‘You were meant to take all of me. My true home is inside you.’

Your grip loosens slightly at his admission, lips curling into a small pout. ‘I so desperately wanted to give you a child.’

A choked sound rumbles through his chest, and his hand reaches yours, pulling it from his cock to wind your fingers together. With his free hand, he nudges at your shoulder, easing you back to the ground with a darkness in his eyes that has your throat running dry. Automatically, your legs spread wide, offering him space to settle between them. The tip of his cock rubs carelessly against your slit, and your focus fades, mind emptying with the single desire to have him inside you taking root. 

‘Promise me you won’t give him children,’ he commands, words thick with purpose.

He walks his hand languidly down  your body, grazing over your chest, your covered breasts, to the flat of your stomach. Beneath him, you tremble, the tectonic plates of your spine shifting beneath his touch. Splaying his hand over your stomach, he eyes your skin with parted lips and a furrowed brow. Hoseok wars with himself, his thoughts tangible behind the darkness of his irises, expression swimming with strife.

‘Promise me,’ he repeats. ‘I don’t think I could survive the thought of someone else's baby growing inside you.’ 

Raising your hand from the floor, you card your fingers through his hair while you squeeze your joined hands, determined to win his attention. 

‘I promise,’ is your soft whisper. ‘I shall bear no other child than yours.’ 

Invigorated by your promise, he returns his gaze to yours and maintains it as he works his way down your body with his tongue, kissing everywhere his hands have been. Without warning, he buries his face between your legs to bite gently at your clit, this contact a thunderclap in your spirit. Back arching off the floor, your voice shatters around his name, teeth chewing over the syllables as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Your bones hum with the stimulation, very existence stinging and resonating, while he sucks your clit into his mouth, soothing the pain into a deep, soul burning pleasure. He swirls his tongue around it, mouth greedy and impatient, the fullness of his lips a heaven unrivaled by Teylim, and your hand tightened in his hair, body writhing in passion. 

Hoseok releases your clit with a wet pop before he kisses his way down to your folds, thrusting the flat of his tongue between them, impatient and hungry. Mindlessly, your legs spread wider, small gasps escaping from your chest as your lungs take in the scent of your sex and your hips roll upward, feeling your juices mix ceremoniously with his saliva. Consumed by the sheer power of your need, you feel yourself howl like a moonless wolf, rolling your hips against Hoseok’s face in erratic motions, inspired by the promise of your orgasm.

But Hoseok releases your joined hands, moving it quickly to your hips where he holds you still, growling against your cunt.

‘You shall not wander from me,’ he says, moving his lips against your slit as he presses you into the ground. ‘Keep still and let me feast on you.’

Once more, he thrusts the full length of his tongue between your walls, sucking eagerly at the juices spilling into his open mouth. He’s velvet and silk against your core, sturdy and solid while still gliding against all the places you have needed him most, and your voice careens off the ceiling, loud enough to drown out the ocean waves. Scratching your nails down the soft skin of your thighs, you fight back the desire to thrust against his face, wishing you could fuck his mouth and press yourself against the tip of his nose. All of it, every thrust of his tongue and every roll of your hips you suppress has you moaning, voice high pitched and growing erratic.

The feel of his tongue inside you inspires the deep desire for something larger, something thicker. Your orgasm is a threat in the center of your belly, spine tingling and tightening as each press of his tongue against your walls tames the beast of your racing heart. Hoseok buries himself between your legs with a diligence that borders on hysteria, holding you down and indulging in your

Still, his tongue only just hits the place inside your core that needs him most. You want him hard against your cervix. You want him deep enough to leave bruises on your softest pieces.

Tonight, you want the thick girth of his cock to splinter your bones. Tonight, you want his cock pressed against your cervix, a bruise you will carry for the rest of your life. Tonight, you want his cum so deep inside you it burns.

Tonight, you want him to love you and you want it to hurt. 

‘Hoseok,’ you whimper. ‘Please, I -’

Hoseok thrusts two fingers into your cunt beside his tongue, silencing you with the rough skin of his knuckles spreading your walls even wider. The contrast between his fingers and tongue elevates your hips from the floor with force, disregarding the strength of his hand. You are beastly beneath his ministrations, finding yourself caught in a wild hour and feeling as though you have abstained from him too long. He forces your hips back down with the palm of his hand, groaning against you loudly enough you feel his voice reverberate up to your tongue, and you cry out, distraught. 

Having left the top of your dress buttoned, your nipples strain against the cloth, sensitive and sending electric ripples down your arms, your shoulders - all along your nerves. Another breeze moves through the lighthouse, and it kisses at the sheen of sweat that has broken along your hairline. 

Desperately, you want him. Desperately, you need him. But still it’s not enough. 

‘God,’ you keen, ‘I need to cum.’

Hoseok hums in understanding, the vibration of it moving deep inside you once more. 

‘Oh,’ you whine, so small and so close to breaking. 

Hoseok’s tongue leaves your cunt, only his fingers remaining, and he moves his mouth to your clit where he sucks at the swollen nub deftly. Again, your hand scratches down your thighs, harsh enough to draw blood. Red and angry, the sting of these scores against your flesh makes you smile, a manic and monstrous expression you hope your father, Daeus, and all the gods can see. Frustrated and feeling the coil of your orgasm tighten, your other hand slaps into the ground, gripping at the linen of Hoseok’s shirt. You dig your nails into it, pretending it is him, his skin, his cock, anything substantial to torture him as he tortures you.

Against your cunt, you feel Hoseok begin to laugh, wearing the smirk of the devil as he sucks diligently at your clit.

His name begins in your mouth and dies on an exhale, eyes open wide as you stare up at the ceiling. Vision glazed and vacant, your body trembles as your orgasm lingers dangerously on the precipice of your nerves, skin growing hot and bordering on a point of pain. You hear yourself crying, you feel yourself pressing harder and harder against Hoseok’s eager mouth, and you struggle to discern if the rush in your ears is your blood as it moves swiftly to find him or the ocean that works swiftly to keep your coupling secret. 

And then, without any warning at all, Hoseok once more latches his teeth to your clit.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a wave of heat in your blood and skin, your juice cascading into Hoseok’s waiting mouth. This orgasm is an eruption, a shockwave in your soul that leaves you trembling while his relentless motions of tongue and hand milk you to completion. The tears you have held back begin to spill, soaking your cheeks as you soak his lips, a great wave over you that leaves you breathless.

‘Come up here,’ you gasp. ‘Come up here and kiss me.’

Slowly pulling his lips and fingers from your cunt, you hiss as he eases his way up your body. Using the tip of his tongue, he traces the shape of your parted lips with careful strokes, still messy and dripping with your slick juices. At your core, his cock presses, the contact sending tremors up your spine and causing a whine of pain to splinter in your throat. Granted permission by the sound alone, Hoseok delves his tongue inside your mouth and demands you taste yourself - you, your cum; him, his breath, his spit, his flavor; all of it, mixed together. Your walls clench as you kiss him, devouring him, as your folds seek to lure his cock inside you. 

Gasping against his mouth, you feel his tip press roughly against your core, your walls still sensitive but your body and spirit eager for his fullness. Hoseok pulls away from your lips to whine a low expletive, his resolve shaking and unstable, close to shattering by the force of his desire. His lips part on his sighs, breath slow and shallow, and still shimmering with you. Already, he had devoured you, drunk his fill and yet he still appears starved. As he lingers above you, Hoseok rolls his cock against your walls once more, a challenge, a reminder that he is exhausted by the prospect of not having his fill of you.

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you press your fingers into the soft skin of his back and muscles, letting them wander down and down until you grip the rounded flesh of his ass There, your grip tightens, threatening to push him inside you lest he waste any more time. 

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe. ‘I need you to fuck me.’

‘You want me to fuck you?’ he mumbles, running his tongue over your jaw before biting at your chin. ‘Tell me how badly.’

‘Please,’ you whimper, rolling your hips up against his cock, a warning against the tip. ‘I need you so badly it hurts.’

Wordlessly, Hoseok thrusts himself inside you to the hilt, balls pressing against you with a loud slap. You feel him shake inside you, body shivering with the sudden heat enveloping his cock. Hoseok’s moan is a deluge, an ecstatic exclamation howled victoriously into the juncture of your neck and shoulders, and you smile blankly at the ceiling, mind empty of all things that are not the feel of Hoseok against and inside you. 

His stillness is a tease you cannot endure, and so you clench yourself around him, his teeth biting at your skin as you release and repeat, urging him to move. The feel of his mouth at your skin, the feel of his heaviness pressed so roughly inside you, as your cunt leaking over him, back down into the floor where it coats your ass in its stickiness. Still, you pay little attention to anything other than his immense girth as it stretches you, your walls strained to accommodate him like always. 

Feeling you drip over and under him, he pulls out and thrusts back in, a knock at the door of your cervix and the sudden feel of him so deep as you groaning his name. He challenges you, repeating the motion as your bodies slide back along the floor with the force of his thrusts, the piercing sensation stealing your very breath. You are gasping as you clutch him, breasts moving against the fabric and nipples aching with the sensation, letting him push your body to its limits. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ he grits out, an echo of your earlier promises.

‘I love you,’ you choke, the words incomprehensible. 

‘Say it again,’ he hisses, executing a piercing thrust that has you gasping for breath, nails digging into his skin for purchase.

Squeezing your eyes closed, your hands move to the wings of his shoulder blades and you cling to him, a flightless bird. ‘I love you.’ 

When you hear yourself say it, you realize you are crying, your voice a sob of affirmation around tears of grief. It should be impossible to love someone this much, with the devastating whole of your existence. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ you plead, barely able to speak around the way Hoseok punishes your cervix, a punishment for abandoning him. 

‘I love you.’ Equally affected, his voice warbles over the words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he presses the words over and over into your pulse. 

‘I love you, I love you.’

Slowing his pace, Hoseok accentuates his proclamations with brutal thrusts against your cervix. Slow as his thrusts may be, they are full of power and force, a pain against your walls and muscles ensuring you will never be free of him. Tears falling freely, your breath is as sharp as his thrusts, a burn in your lungs as you struggle to contain the cosmic feeling of love you hold inside. 

‘I know you like it when it hurts,’ he grits out, thrusts relentless. 

All you can manage is a nod, a moan, the dig of your nails into his skin, the acknowledgement that you would prefer it if he shattered you. You would prefer it if he left nothing behind of you at all.

‘I know you like it when I stretch you, when you can’t walk for days.’ 

‘I do,’ you nod weakly, legs automatically spreading wider - until your hips hurt, until you are certain your bones will bruise from the way you have spread yourself open just for him. 

Hoseok moans as a harmonic response to yours, the sack of his balls slapping diligently at your ass. You cling to him, holding him against you in despair, the vice grip of your hands matched only by the grip of your walls. Pleasure ripples through your synapses, an overload to your very synapses, little else registering in your mind apart from the places Hoseok penetrates within your core.

‘Do you want me to cum inside you?’

The pleading nature of his tone does not go unmissed, his own anguish evident in the way his hand cups your breast and his nails scratch at the flesh, wishing for entry. 

‘Yes.’

‘What if I get you pregnant?’ he muses, though he remains completely sincere. What if I fuck my baby into you? What will they do?’

‘I hope you do.’ It takes all your strength to speak without losing your breath. Once more your orgasm has started to build gloriously around the pain of taking him against your cervix, and you need him to know that you mean it. ‘I don’t care if they scorn me.’

‘I’ll do it,’ he bites out - not a threat, but a promise. ‘I’ll knock you up, fuck my baby into you. They’ll have to watch you grow someone else’s child. What a sight, huh? Bet Daeus would love to see you deliver another man’s baby.’

‘Do it.’

You see yourself, heavy and round with his child, glowing brilliantly like a constellation unto yourself. Carrying your offspring, you would be a supernova, the cradle of the very universe and you would celebrate it with every word breaking over laughter. Daeus would snarl at you, a sneer reserved for your growing belly; your father would find himself in a rage so beautiful and blinding, you think darkness would befall the earth, this winter sudden and unforgiving. The other gods would ignore you, this you are confident of and would take with pride. You’d tease them with it, finding yourself immensely confident in the power of being pregnant with Hoseok’s child. 

You’d carry his child as though this were your real pilgrimage within Teylim, your true purpose. 

And Hoseok, you know, would be your chosen king, god of the sun because he deserves it.

He deserves you. 

‘Yeah?’ he moans, hips picking up pace as he begins to chase his own high. Still, he loses none of the strength in his motions, seemingly motivated by your affirmation of desire.

‘Get me pregnant,’ you plead, biting your lip with shame at this impossible ask. A fool’s errand, a childish plea to change the way of things. ‘Make me stay with you,’ is your final whisper.

Together, you both fall silent as he fucks you with vigor, silent and awestruck by the violence of your coupling. With each thrust, your voices become a symphony of your union. Gripping him tightly, you hope it reaches the gods, your father, all of Teylim. You hope they see the way Hoseok fucks you, absolutely unforgiving. You hope they see the way you make a mess of yourself for him, that you have already decided on a husband and he is no god, no hero, but a man who loves you as though you are the whole of the sky. 

Hoseok trembles against you, and you sense his orgasm approaching in the way he gasps against your skin, thrusting harder and faster and, somehow, harder into your core. You are burning with the ache of containing him, but your own orgasm is cosmic, making its steady approach with each brutal thrust. Hoseok wanted to live inside you, wanted to give you a child, wanted to watch you swell with him alone - and it is these thoughts that send you over the edge, the universe apart from Hoseok melting into a white. In this orgasm, there is no air, no sea, no sky - only Hoseok; his breath, his smile as you cum around him, his ecstatic laughter.

You imagine yourself pregnant, learning to contain a sun inside your womb. You imagine him laughing, hands and lips at your belly. You imagine him happy. You imagine him happy, and your orgasm moves over you with the strength of a lunar tide, the same way your tears move over your cheeks, torn between sobs of bliss and sobs of grief for a life you will not have.

Hoseok continues to thrust into you with purpose, the last of your orgasm leaving you in shockwaves as the motions of his hips overstimulate your walls. It hurts to contain him, not nearly as much as it hurts to leave him, and you dig your nails into his skin, demanding all you can from him with enthusiasm. The world is tilted on its axis as he cums inside you, wave after wave of seed spilling into your core as you stroke tenderly at the hair at the base of his neck. Teeth chattering, you mumble his name, shivering as he spills himself inside you, and you pray, woefully, that he kept his word and left you with a piece of him.

‘Mine,’ he says, stilling inside you as the last of his orgasm quakes his mortal form. 

As his cock begins to soften inside you, the hand at your breast moves gently to the buttons. Your skin burns with the heat of the saliva he dripped against your neck, and he presses his cheek against your neck as he unbuttons the last of your dress. Exposed, now, to the sea breeze, your back arches slightly as the wind and his breath moves over your nipples. His hand cups your breast, too tender for the way he fucked you, and you are certain he is imagining your breasts full of milk, your body heavy, his wish granted, too. 

Pulling his cock free, you both grimace at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your breast to instead smear the cum from your core that leaks from between your walls over your folds. He strokes the tips of his fingers against your slit, the stimulation making you hiss and writhe beneath him in retreat, before you are crying out his name, his fingers dipping inside to scoop his cum from your center. As he pulls his hand free, his studies his fingers carefully, smirking not unlike the devil, before he guides them over your breasts and lets it drip.

And then, without warning, he begins to write his name along your breasts.

‘I am sanctifying you,’ he explains. ‘Anyone who pulls down your clothes will find me. I have already laid claim to your temple.’

Your smile is composed entirely of sadness, a hope that has made a home of despair evident in your expression. Holding his hand in yours, you guide his soaked fingers between the valley of your breasts to your stomach, where you hold him still.

‘With any luck it will be visible here,’ you offer, hoping he cannot hear how remorse has consumed you.

Hoseok frowns. ‘My biggest fear is that you do become pregnant and that I cannot see my baby grow in you. That I won’t be able to raise our family with you.’

Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head to the side in consideration, battling the new found grief that consumes you. ‘Did you not mean it?’

‘I meant every word,’ he promises, moving his hand from your stomach to cup your cheeks. ‘I’d put twins inside you if I had any control. But you are mine, our family is mine. I curse the gods for taking it from me.’ Hoseok falls silent, and you press your cheek into his hand, turning to kiss his mount of venus in encouragement. ‘The day I met you I saw my life with you,’ he continues, so quiet, and so unlike your Hoseok. ‘You are half of my soul.’

Abruptly, Hoseok lifts himself up and pulls away from you. As he rises to a stand, he is still warmed by your touch, the glow from your magic still draped over his muscles, turning him amber and yellow. He’s incandescent, as much as a god of light as you, more regal and more royal than any man who was lucky enough to slay a beast in your name. Running a hand through his hair, he regards you with dark eyes - embers burning in his rises of lust and longing, devotion and despair. He says nothing at all as he moves, naked and vulnerable, to the back corner of the room where he gathers his tools. 

‘What are you doing?’ you hum. Reaching your hand out, you curl onto your side, writhing in the pillow of your discarded clothes, beckoning him back to you. ‘Come back to me. It’s cold without you.’

He says nothing at all as he roots around, pulling out a thick screwdriver and hammer. 

‘He will give you rings,’ he says, more to himself than to you. 

The words come softly, barely a whisper that cuts through the air. Settling in front of the fog bell on his knees, he begins to hammer the end of the screwdriver into the metal, carving and carving. 

‘He will give you flowers,’ he grits out bitterly, ‘and will see your smiles in the morning. He will bring you food and nectar, and he will watch you glow your brightest. He will watch you glow each time you remember my hands on you, my lips on you. In bed, he will watch you glow, thinking it’s him, letting his own ego grow so immense he will get off on his own power rather than you. But he won’t know, not like I do. Not like we do.’

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your naked body, the breeze from the sea cooling your dampened skin. Licking your lips, you watch as his muscles strain with his pound of the hammer. Brow narrowed, jaw set, and hands gripping his tools with confidence, he marks the metal with a certainty born from a man learning to combat loneliness. 

‘He won’t know,’ he continues, words a grunt of demand and dominion. ‘No one will know that each time he touches you, you are comparing him to me. You will be remembering me. I want you to remember me. I want you to think of me, I want you to look for the light from this beacon, and I want you to outshine the anguish. I am destined to look for you the way so many people look for the North Star. My every storm is guided by you. So don’t you dare forget.’

The fog light spins overhead, clouds passing by and changing the refraction just enough to see the shimmer against his cheeks. Hoseok weeps as he carves, jaw unflinching, and hands steady with determination. A lump rises in the center of your throat, chest tight with the pain that comes from loving someone too much, entirely too much. Gasping for air, you move towards him, wanting his body pressed tightly against yours in comfort.

On instinct, you give him light - more light, so much light. From beneath your skin, you become torchlight, neon, candle flame; wrapping yourself around his back and shoulders, you rest your head on his shoulder and cling to him, becoming sunlight and firewood, banishing the darkness from his mind and mouth, a lamp unto his feet to lead him home. Pressing your lips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you feel him tremble beneath you, mindlessly leaning into you for more, endlessly more. 

As you turn to watch his hands, your own tears soak the corner of your eyes.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe, regarding his craftsmanship.

‘He can’t give you light like I can,’ he murmurs, suddenly so small and so young, weakened suddenly by the ever looming distance between you. ‘He can give you all the falsehoods of husbandry, but he can’t give you light. He can’t give it back. He is not your equal like I am.’ 

Beneath the careful, diligent work of his hammer and screw, your name begins to take shape, just beneath his. The markings are deep, thick scratches unlikely to erode in any substantial length of time. Wind and sea will not wipe your names away, nor snow nor sand. Not even heaven, you think, could cause your names to smear. 

When he finishes, the bronze bell glimmers beneath your light, your names encased in a heart he artfully crafted. You imagine it in a wedding band - silver, and not gold. Gold, you think, is too soft and too malleable. The gods prefer it, a sign of eternal wealth and glory, but gold bends. Gold is too impermanent, value placed in all the wrong places. You would give Hoseok platinum, would give him silver, would give him bronze. If you had the power to move the earth, you would give him iron and steel, anything equally as enduring as the way you will be immortalized in ardor. 

‘I can’t believe this is all I will have of you.’ Hoseok stares at your names, at the jagged lines he carved into the bell, mourning. Shoulders slumped and hands folded neatly in his lap, he laments quietly to himself as though in prayer. ‘At the end of all this, this is all I have. Your name and a memory.’

Raising your hand to his chin, you turn his face to yours, biting your lip as he cries freely, tears staining the softness of his cheeks with salt. 

‘No one will have me, not like you.’ ‘He can take me, he can take my light, he can take my name, but he will never have my heart. All of me belongs to you. I am yours. Swear to me that you are mine.’

The hammer and screwdriver fall to the ground at his knees, a loud clank so disruptive for the quiet paradise you have built at the top of the lighthouse. Enveloping you in his arms, he buries his face in your neck, lips at the center of your throat - a place he has been so often this night you are determined to call it his home - tugging your hair back to make space for him. 

‘I’m yours,’ he swears passionately. ‘Not a single person will have me the way I’ve given myself to you. In a thousand summers, not a single one will pass in which I’m not yours.’

The conviction in his words undoes you, your eyes wide as you stare up at the ceiling, at the base of the light, feeling as though there is no difference between the moon and the sun, not anymore. For you, they are interchangeable, each burning in an hour of love; which is to say, there will be no hour that passes in which you do not love him, no hour passing in which your light does not belong to him and his does not belong to you. 

‘I wish I could stay like this.’ These affectionate speeches tumble from your lips, your mind empty of misgivings, wishing to be as honest as you are naked. ‘I wish I could stay this way, forever touching you.’

‘Time is meaningless,’ he muses, detached and distant, even as you hold him. ‘For me, this is the end of my life. There will be nothing else after this. For me, it will always be this way. My arms will always be around you.’

For him, you are glad. For him, you are relieved that there shall be no other moment than this. 

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

The seaside feels like the edge of destruction after so long away from it, gravity pressing at your bones. From where you stand, the unchanging nature of the earth makes a mockery of your nerves, the past beating against your sternum like a second heart.

You are poised and still, relearning the way the earth is unforgiving compared to the heavens. Too long have you been removed from such a tangible feeling of living, such a tangible reminder that you, too, are made of flesh and blood and all the things that break so easily, just like ocean foam. Your toes bury themselves into the rocky shore, rooting yourself like a tether as a promise that you will not run away, that you will not leave - not again. As though it senses your presence, the sea rages beneath a cloudless sky, the sun’s rays reflecting off the water, illuminated without any need of you.

The lighthouse looms along the hilltop, and you worry your bottom lip as you study its eternal guardianship. All these unchangeable things, loyal without you, and yet you stand here, begging for acceptance. You can hear Hoseok’s words like an echo, words not yet spoken but you anticipate them, the lump in your throat sinister in its tenacity. 

How dare you, he will shout, and the tears on his cheeks will be your parting gift. How dare you haunt me here when I did not expect you, when I had already worked so hard to give you up. 

Promises in the dead of night are easy to make when the daylight has yet to take anything from you. The earth remains unchanged but you are evidence of the passage of time, and you are certain Hoseok will have warred with himself so completely your memory of him is little more than a ghost of a man who died the moment he woke to find you missing. 

He used to be able to sense you here. Back when things were new and things were simple, back even at the end, he would sense your presence along the water and come running, a smile already at his cheeks in welcome. Stroking your naked hip with the tips of his fingers, he told you all about his skin would tingle when you were close, a static on his tongue that told him something too important to be contained by the earth was waiting for him. Even before he knew you, before he knew it was you, he felt it, as though he had been made just to know you, to find you. 

It used to be the same for you, a pull to the shore and a lightness of being that always made you stand here, in this place, waiting. Weeks passed before either of you had any idea you were near one another, before you’d even introduced yourself, and now it is the same. Your body combats the change in gravity with strength, though you realize too much has changed in you for the weight to feel the same. 

The hair at the back of your neck stands on end, rising in anticipation as the air becomes thick and heavy. You feel him approaching, a magnetic pull against your back that has your posture shifting, pulling you to your full height regardless how heavy all of you feels. Still, he doesn’t close the distance, and your lips part around a sigh, silently asking him to reach for you, to touch you.

But he won’t.

Not when he thinks you are the same as you were. Not when he thinks this is all just a memory.

Closing your eyes, you turn to face him, feeling tears burn against the lids. Hoseok makes no movement towards you, and, unable to hold back any longer, you open your eyes once more, weeping at the sight of him. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you study the way he looks at you, the way his gaze traverses your form with a pained expression, the knot in his brow visible even from a distance. He’s far from you, far enough you cannot touch him, but he, too, remains unchanged - still beautiful, still glorious, still the sun king himself, and you choke back a bitter cry at the way it seems only you are the one who was allowed to change.

‘Hello,’ you try, offering a weak and unsteady smile.

Hoseok says nothing as he closes the distance, eyes trained at your middle, focused enough you feel him move inside you. He lets himself get close, close enough your skin calls out to his eagerly, begging him to touch you. You can smell him on the wind, the same musk, the same ambergris, the same dust that you remember, and your hands twitch at your sides, straining to reach out to him. 

‘What is this?’ he manages, not looking you in the face.

‘I -’ A small cry cuts you off, and you press your hand to your lips, forcing yourself to keep your composure. 

Hearing the anguish in your voice, he raises his gaze to yours and you see the way he mirrors your pain, confused and bewildered. 

‘Tell me what this is,’ he whispers, fierce and demanding. 

‘It’s exactly how it looks,’ you explain, feeling terribly pathetic.

It’s so simple, you know. Absolutely obvious. Your pregnant belly sticks out far enough now it leaves a distance between you, a gap where your child grows the only thing that separates you. 

‘Did you come here to mock me?’ he spits, leaning forward with venom.

‘No!’ you exclaim, holding your hand up in surrender. ‘I…’ you drift off, uncertain where to begin. You decide, perhaps, it’s best to begin with the truth. ‘The baby is yours.’ 

Hoseok’s expression shatters, a thousand different feelings breaking over his face before he settles on disbelief and quiet rage.

‘Why would you show me this?’ he pleads, sounding so small. ‘Have I not suffered enough? You knew I wished for this and now you tease me with it?’

‘I’m not here to show you anything, Hoseok, and certainly not to cause you pain.’ It’s shocking how tired you are becoming, putting in the effort of not reaching for him, not weeping for him, not rushing to an end you both deserve. ‘They...rejected me,’ is all you manage in the end.

Hoseok sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes watering as he lowers his focus to your belly once more. ‘They stopped the wedding?’

He speaks so softly you almost do not hear him over the rolling tide, and now, you cannot be contained. In one swift motion, you reach for his hand twining your fingers together. Your hold on him is unrelenting, not allowing him a single escape. Feeling his palm against yours is all the motivation you need, a resurgence of energy you have been missing for months.

When you continue to remain silent, he narrows his brow and persists. ‘Are you unmarried?’

‘They were going to go through with,’ you explain quickly, not allowing him any room for interjection. ‘They were going to make me marry him. Daeus even said he’d give the child to a human family, make it go through a Hero’s Journey to join us back in Teylim. Gods, the fight I put up to stop that from happening. The Fate Tying went poorly,’ you finish with a sardonic grin.

Gently, you tug Hoseok against you, forcing his stomach to bump against yours. His heated breath cascades over your skin, and you sigh in pleasure.

‘The child is completely human, my love,’ you whisper, eyes searching his face. ‘The Moirai refused to untie us.’ Incredulous, you laugh, looking out over the grassy hill in wonder. ‘The old crones are always right.’

The weight of your explanation steals Hoseok’s breath, and he falls against you, clinging to you as he sobs into your shoulder. Holding him close, you remember the last time you were in this position, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your hands clutching him, unwilling to be removed. As though sensing the great wave of his emotion, the child in your belly stirs abruptly, pressing against your womb to get his attention. 

You jump slightly at the feel of it, and Hoseok looks down, laughing, incandescent in his joy. He brings his hand to your belly, touching softly at where your child had just been, and he sniffles, looking to you and back down, cheeks reflecting the light you suddenly cannot contain. 

‘It’s a girl,’ you state, always wondering how he would react to knowing he’d have a daughter. ‘Our daughter kept me with you.’

Falling to his knees, he holds your belly in his hands and presses his forehead against its peak, too overcome with emotion to utter a word. Instead, he simply breathes deeply, wrought with bliss. Lowering a hand to the crown of his head, you thread your fingers through your hair and think that this, this precise moment, is what it means to be a goddess.

This is what it means to truly be sanctified.

[wiihtigo]

youre doing gods work w the boostle list i stg. once that drops its OVER for me. eithet that or ill just hyperfix rlly hard for a week then forget ab it. well see. is there any other dc shit youd rec or whatever while were at it.

MARTY my friend marty is doing gods work theyre helping me a lot rn remembering which specific issues of other comics they show up in before we get to the big big stuff like countdown

as for other dc stuff id rec....Well i recently finishing reading the 80s (and 60s) doom patrol comic and enjoyed it very much! im also watching the tv show and its good but the episodes are like an hour long so its like a Task to sit down and focus on. Im only like a handful of episodes in

I did not fucking care for like the first 20 issues of doom patrol 1987 and almost dropped it until i reached the grant morrison run and it was instantly so good i couldnt stop reading. Ive said this to my friends before but i would say its comparable to the works of stephen king in both the good and the bad ways. It was a good comic in the same way "It" was a good book

The 60s one is fine and i enjoyed it (it has rita! but so does the tv show so if you want to see her but dont want to read a 60s comic you can watch her there) but if youre in it for the surreal really weird storylines you mightve heard rumors of from dp the 80s run is where it all begins. honest to god id say just skip the issues until grant morrison takes over theyre so BORINGGGGG. IN MY OPINION

hm what else have i been reading OH. YOUNG JUSTICE 1998! i recently finished this one as well i dont know why it took me so long it was only 55 issues but it was SOOOOOO GOOD. i do not fucking like the young justice cartoon this comic is the superior yj media i mean just compare yj 98s kon (cool leather jacket. gay earring. undercut. tiny shades. TWO belts) to the tv shows kon (just a t shirt and jeans. ugly haircut. lame. stupid. ugly. die. Straight)

K*N -> THE COOLER KON EL

cant rec this comic enough mostly out of spite for the fact that when most people think of young justice they think of the swagless cartoon and not this beautiful team of teens. For one, the kids actually act like teens in the comic and not young adults having stupid relationship drama. Theyre sweet and stupid and care about eachother and the storylines are really thoughtful and opinionated. a lot of what im saying is regurgitated from things my much more eloquent friend monty has said about yj but since reading it for myself and now knowing firsthand i cant agree more. There was a really awesome story involving arrowette (cissie king jones) about a school shooting and gun violence. a lot of modern comics take the (pussy) centrist route when dealing with big controversies like this but they literally look to the camera and say GUN CONTROL **PLEASE!!!!!!!!**. in an ealier issue theres this funny moment where bart (impulse) zips away to stop some hunters from killing a deer and kon (superboy) is like did you really violate their AMERICAN right to shoot guns? AWESOME!!!!!!!!

also its just earnestly really really really funny. it has that sam and max style of humor which is why i think i loved it so much.

cant sing enough praises for this comic. Also in the yj show they had dick grayson as the robin for the first season? and wally? why do you hate tim drake and bart allen that much. tim kon and bart are a package deal dont separate them you bitch!

umm well that was only 2 comics i ended up recomending but i talked a lot about yj sooooo. there you go

[phoenixyfriend]

I personally would *really* like to know more about Mace's intro to General Obi-Wan, and how Anakin and Obi-Wan interact in the mind space now. That's got to be so weird, right? Though I bet it's VERY useful when the kids are having some emotion or issue that they can't quantify or explain, or that they don't want to explain: ask the grownup versions and they'll be able to say what's going down. But I mean, in mind-space does OW & A's relationship average out into 'very affectionate (cont)

(cont) brothers who are *very* invested in each other's well being? (They can have the Dad conversation of 'please eat your veggies' from EITHER direction!) I'm imagining, just, a lot of lounging on each other. Mace is introduced to the older versions via meditation and the first thing OW does, even before saying hello, is stroll over to A, sit down, throw his legs across his lap and lean into his side. Also, imagine A coming to OW for advice in meditation, and Ben going to A for advice IRL.

My favorite part of the Jedi Babies AU is what adult!Obi-Wan's relationship with Anakin is like in the meditation-area, is what I'm saying. Followed by how the mini-versions of Soka and Ben act out in real space. The whole thing with them very seriously researching local law so they can hold accurate trials with their stuffed animals was adorable, and I loved how foreboding and mystic Ahsoka came off in the Dooku conversation.

I went back and re-read a bunch of the Jedi babies posts and I have to admit, this: "He gets headaches if he tries to think like an adult for too long, so he shifts between “Master Kenobi, helping Anakin figure out how to fix the world” and “literal child who just wants a nap and cuddles.”" actually probably answers all of my questions and means that adult!OW's relationship with Anakin is probably much the same, just. Still with more cuddles. And prob. with better communication/ less criticism.

OKAY SO (human) babies are like. Wired to require human contact. It's a chemical thing. If you hold a baby, the baby's body will make oxytocin and stuff like that, and the baby will be happy!

(And also not die. Babies can absolutely die without enough physical contact.)

So IRL/waking Soka and Ben are in a position where they constantly crave physical contact, because they are So Damn Young. Obviously, the main provider of that contact is Anakin, and each other, and Shmi, so they're pretty quickly accustomed to being really, really tactile with 'Dad.'

This transfers to the adult shared mindspace, in that they're so used to hugs and cuddles with Anakin that they all just kind of... drift together. The shaping of that physical contact isn't the same, for a variety of reasons, but there's a lot of leaning against each other, Soka lying down with her head in someone's lap, Anakin and Ben making sure their shoulders touch when they sit down, etc. When meeting Mace, they sit so that Anakin's got his arm over Ben's shoulders, which isn't that weird of a position for two adult men who consider each other brothers. They're less tactile, if only because adult General Kenobi can't crawl into Anakin's lap the way the kid version can, but there's still skinship and shared body heat and hugs. It's only weird if you remember that the older of them is currently the slightly creepy eight-year-old you met half an hour ago.

They are undeniably family in every manner, though. That part is never in question.

It's a little weird, moreso for Ben than for Soka. She's gone from little sister to daughter, but she's still 'younger female family member, who views Anakin as a loving authority on account of being an older family member.'

Ben's gone from parent to child, and when a solid 98% of his time is spent as the child, but the history is that of being the parent and being the one with advice, it's weird. They still mostly manage to make it work, though, because meeting up in the mindspace is usually done only for strategizing and whatnot, and gets less and less necessary as they get older. Soka's headaches-when-I-try-to-think-with-my-full-history taper off by the time she's about eighteen, physically; she’s actually two years older than she was at the point of time travel, by that point, but she’s got thirty years of memories so her brain needs a wee bit extra time to grow to hold all of it. Ben... I want to say early twenties for him, because he's got so much more to process.

By that point, they're... not quite who they were, but they're not exactly fresh new people, either. It was never a case of whether or not they'd 'meld,' because they were never really separate, just unable to access everything and limited by the wiring they had. As they can process more and more, they think with some of their old methods (e.g. critical thinking on how to assess propaganda, strategy patterns to approach a battlefield, rebuilding habits for lightsaber usage that they remember in theory but don't actually feel natural yet) in tandem with learning new ones from their new environment (e.g. learning Mandalorian battle logic, Tatooine survival priorities).

There's like. A whole thing in my brain about how Mandalorian, Tatooine, Jedi, Coruscanti, and Shili cultural and logic patterns interact.

WORD OF NOTE: I was an international business major who focused on intercultural communications and marketing. I'm thinking about these in terms of like... Hofstede's cultural dimensions and that whole thing where (I can't remember the actual term) a proper sentence in Russian looks like a run-on in English because the way we structure things looks completely different, and the way information is supposed to be presented when written in order for a person to optimally process what they're reading is completely different due to how we're all trained to learn, and when you pair that with the child psychology aspect of also learning new languages with adjusted neuroplasticity while slowly regaining access to full adult memories as time passes in which you have familiar but completely different cultural values that you now have to reconcile with the things you've learned to consider important with the people who are raising you--

I have a lot of thoughts on this sort of thing.

To put it lightly.

[cohendyke]

1 and 15 for the ask thing 0.0

1) how would you describe your relationship with your mom/dad?

uh. uh. they think they both did an amazing job raising me and that they’re still good parents. meanwhile i probably have ptsd for real but i’m never telling them that ;)

15) favorite memory?

my most recent favorite memory (kinda redundant lol) is when i went to the calgary stampede over the summer and i stumbled upon my number one bestie in the whole wide world who i hadn’t seen in person in 5 years working at the merch tent.. like i knew she’d be working at the stampede but 1) it’s packed full of people and 2) i didn’t know where exactly she’d be. that trip in general is probably the best one i’ve ever been on, there’s literally no place like home :’)

gonna put my #1 favorite memory ever below the cut, it’s longer

so, for context when i was 11-12, i was in the midst of an autoimmune crisis for about a year. i was in and out of the hospital for months, and i’d just started junior high. my longest stay was 3 weeks, and about halfway through, the doctors were like 98% sure i had some rare form of lymphoma. there was nothing they could do until the results came back, so they sent me home for the weekend. that weekend i got to see my family, pets, friends who lived on my street, and just be free from the hospital. all the families and kids on our block were pretty close, so it was kind of just a party from friday night to sunday afternoon lol, and we got to do whatever we wanted because everyones parents thought i was dying. tho halfway through that weekend i read my moms texts and found out that i was probably dying so i also have a very vivid memory of seeing the maze runner with my bestie mentioned above and just. thinking about how i was going to die at the ripe age of twelve and confronting mortality. but yea anyway banger of a weekend my mom bought me the blue iphone 5c. nothing brings a community together like the news of a child probably having end stage cancer <3

[ru08us]

My concept of an Azulaang Fic

I have wanted to write an idea for a very long fic about this two characters. I figured out that for them to be together with their original characterization I literally have to change all the structure if the show, so here it is. I hope you like it.

“Water. Earth. Fire. Air. When I was a child I remember seeing how the Four Nations lived in Harmony. Air Nomads living in peace in our high temples, the Water Tribes striving with beautiful cities, the Earth Kingdom growing in peace and tradition, and the Fire Nation, living the biggest prosperity age the world had ever seen. But everything changed when these last one attacked. Only the Avatar mastered all four elements. Only he could stop the ruthless firebenders. But he failed, three times. A hundred years have passed and the Fire Nation is nearing victory in the War. Two years ago, I woke up from an iceberg and discovered that the world I had been born in was gone. Some people say the Avatar is out there, hiding in the Earth Kingdom, or that the avatar cicle is broken. But I believe they are wrong. The new Avatar must have been born in the Fire Nation, and I’m going to find him. Deep in my heart, I know he is going to come back and save the world”

4 Main changes for the story

Azula is the Avatar, Aang is an airbender who got frost for 98 years, Ozai is more calculating and cold and Zuko’s arc changes completely

Book 1: Air

So I will start describing Character arcs and relationship developments

Azula and Aang

First 2 chapters: The Fire Nation is making it’s annual examination to find if the Avatar is in their country. Every 14 year old is put into this process. Azula is discovered as the Avatar and Ozai congratulates her, only to chi send her into a cell. She is rescued by another 14 years old guy, Aang, and they escape together. She uses the Avatar State for the first time while escaping.

They manage to sneak into the Earth Kingdom riding Appa and then Azula starts figuring out her situation properly. She questions Aang on his motives and he tells her he is an air nomad who has been looking for the avatar for 2 years after being frozen.

Chapter 3 and 4: This first part is basically Azula figuring out going along with the flow would be better for the time being and starting to relate to Aang. She tries several times to intimidate him and get him into a Ty Lee situation. But Aang is too cheerful and fails… until she starts asking about the nomads and his motives. They have one adventure where they save a town from destruction and in a happy moment Aang tells her he ran away. Azula starts taunting him with this, and she demands going to the southern air temple. She is figuring out what to do: go back to the Fire Nation or become a spiritual overlord as the Avatar?

Chapter 5 and 6: When they arrive Azula starts making cold comments about the Air Nation and its army, Aang tells her they didn’t have a formal military and after a while Azula says he is right, that they were so weak they didn’t. Aang starts getting mad at her and she calls him a coward for running. Aang then revelas they thought he was the Avatar, but they were wrong. Azula has bargain and thinks she knows how to manipulate Aang, consoling him. Zuko meets Azula and Aang and asks for the Avatar, believing it’s Aang, and Azula taunts him and humilliates him. They get attacked by Zuko and some Fire Nation soldiers then, but they escape (mostly to stop the temples from destruction).

Chapter 7 and 8: Aang and Azula start traveling back to the Earth Kingdom and discuss their countries and cultures. Aang tells Azula about Gyatso and how he was like his father. Azula makes a parallel saying how Ozai wanted to send her away too. The point was to make Aang more dependent, but he gets mad at her. Aang tells them that monks were a peaceful culture unlike the Fire Nation and Azula tells him that the Fire Nation is powerful, smart and wealthy, unlike the Air Nomads. Aang tells her she cannot think that if she wants to learn airbending (she has been training for some weeks with Aang by now and she is doing pretty bad, she attributes this failure to Aang and the situation she is in). They both decide to go to the eastern Air Temple, Aang to show her how good his culture is and Azula to show the opposite. Azula makes fun of Aang during the road, telling him he could be a great Fire Nation Citizen if he tried, cause he is too close. Aang starts thinking about this and tells her he can have an open mind. They arrive and Azula sees that the Air Nomads were actually competent and smart, while Aang relives the fear of Gyatso “wanting” to send him to the Eastern Air Temple. But he learns other things, going in close rooms. He sees some deathly techniques and learns Air Nomads abandoned babies without airbending to non bending families all around the world. Aang is kind of broken and Azula feels confused. In a moment she tells Aang she feels ready to learn airbening and Aang is almost crying for the last part. Azula comforts him tells him that Fire Nation culture can have some bad aspects, like some spicy food and stuff. Aang laughs and they start becoming friends.

Chapter 9: Aang teaches Azula the principle of liberty and games. He tells her they has been very stressed for a while and need to have some rest. Azula mocks Aang for this, but agrees to release some tension. They have fun for a while in some earthbending place, and they talk about trivial stuff. Then they got into training and a routine (slow chapter, mostly for giving Azula time to rest and release pressure). Azula reveals the plans and Sozin’s comet to Aang, mostly to add urgency and play less, but Aang says that distractions are necessary for airbending. Aang questions Azula about firebending and asks if some moves can be used in air, due to azula combining them in training.

Chapter 10 and 11: Zuko and Iroh found Azula and Aang in a several days, while they travel figuring out what to do. Aang and Azula beat Zuko pretty bad (together and separated) and then Azula discovers (by manipulating Zuko) Zhao’s plan toward the North and Aang and Azula decide to go there, cause maybe they won’t find a waterbender master by the time. They are very south of the Earth Kingdom by now.

Chapter 12, 13, 14, 15:Azula and Aang have adventures in the Earth Kingdom and deepen the bond. Aang is more open now and Azula is weirdly nice. They get to Omashu and Aang meets with Bumi in a different way and the White Lotus is the focus, Azula starts acting nice (for her standards). They run into Jet (Azula doesn’t trust him and dismantle the operation easily) and finally they get chased by Zhao but he is easily beaten by both of them, with the Yuyan Archers. Then the fortune teller, not similar to the show (Aang doesn’t have such a strong crush with Azula, if any; and azula dismisses the things). Aang basically cools a volcano and Azula is for the first time surprised on how powerful he is. They talk about him being a prodigy and they bond.

Chapter 16,17: Extended Northern Air temple, but instead of a minister is Ozai himself. Azula rans into a bit of a panic, and for the first time Aang calms her. Aang find a letter from Gyatso to a friend, telling him that he is taking Aang out of the Southern Air Temple to run away with him. Aang tells this to Azula and she acts comforting. She has started to grow close to him and thinks that: “I don’t need fear with him, I can work with he worshipping me as the Avatar”. Both of them start developing feeling from now on. They escape with the village (but not the Mechanist). By this time Azula has advanced enough in Airbending

18-20: Siege of the North. They meet Katara and Sokka. Katara’s illusions of the Avatar shatter and they don’t get along. Azula tries to manipulate Sokka but plays too much into his insecurities. Both sibling dislike her and she just asks Pakku to train her in waterbending. But before anything happens the siege occurs, the spirit dies and she almost does when all the ships who didn’t die at the attack (commanded by Zuko) start firing at her core, but she is saved by the siblings and Aang. The end is she waking up with Aang and the siblings at her side, being told she is needed in the Earth Kingdom and Katara will be her master and her with Aang having a private moment and a hug. Azula starts thinking of Aang as her first true friend.

We completed the main Arc of both of them in Book 1. I will finish their arcs for the rest of the books and then write Zuko’s, Katara’s, Ozai’s, etc. I won’t write. a fic about this, but if you are interested contact me by dm.

Please write comments so I feel this is not going so bad heheh

[fairytail-multishipper]

A commissioned work from the wonderful @jaci-serigala

Gray + Natsu

1. Gray has always been envious of Natsu’s ability to connect with others so easily.

2. Due to his past, Gray has trouble opening himself up to make meaningful connections with others because he’s afraid of losing anyone else.

3. This is one of the reasons Natsu pisses him off so much.

4. Despite his stripping habit, Gray loves clothing design, and even sketches clothes in his free time.

5. He found himself sketching Natsu’s body on the models of his clothing sketches, which shocked him.

6. Gray has never been shy of his attraction to men, but he had never realized he found Natsu attractive until he realized he was sketching Natsu.

7. They are often put into the same room when his team goes on missions, which gives Gray more opportunities to watch Natsu.

8. Natsu’s self-care habits, or lack-there-of, disgusted Gray, but it also drew Gray in.

9. Gray had never noticed just how many of Natsu’s traits were dragon-like.

10. His elongated ears, slitted pupils, sharp fangs, pointed nails, even the small hint of a growl in his voice when he’s angry or excited. It fascinated Gray, for better or worse.

Gray + Lucy

11. When Lucy first joined the guild, Gray did have a crush on her.

12. However, once Team Natsu was formed, he decided against trying to form a romantic relationship with her, fearing it would interfere with their work.

13. He still has a crush on her, shuuush.

14. They’re both coffee addicts, so they often go out for coffee together.

15. They’re each other’s Plan-B option.

16. Meaning, that if neither of them are married or in a committed relationship by the time they’re 30, they’re gonna get married.

17. Gray’s somewhat scared of this, though, because Lucy wants kids, and he isn’t sure if he wants any.

18. So, despite his crush on her, he hints to her to start dating.

19. They talk shit about their guildmates together, out of love of course.

20. They can be really rude though, like, they could make Laxus cry.

Gray + Erza

21. Gray had a crush on Erza ever since they were kids, this is obvious.

22. Every time Gray felt himself ‘getting over’ his crush on Erza, she would do something that would attract him back.

23. It could literally be anything, tucking her hair behind her ear, nomming happily on a strawberry, blinking.

24. Erza caught onto his crush around the start of the series, but when Jellal was brought back into her life, she realized she couldn’t peruse Gray, even though she wanted too.

25. Erza likes to stay updated on guild gossip, even if she acts like she hates it.

26. Gray is often the target for her to spill the gossip too.

27. He pretends to not listen, but he’s just as guilty as Erza.

28. They have a deal that if they’re having a bad mental day, they’ll go to each other.

29. They’ll let each other into their homes, and just relax together.

30. They do this a lot without a single word spoken, because that’s the best way for them to heal.

Gray + Wendy

31. Gray definitely sees Wendy as a little sister.

32. He loves her like one, and he’s very protective of her because of it.

33. When Wendy told the guild that she was dating Chelia, you better believe he made her promise not to hurt Wendy.

34. It embarrassed Wendy too no end.

35. Which Cheila thought was cute.

36. Wendy and Natsu have a much closer bond than she does with Gray.

37. So it always surprises him when she comes to him for advice.

38. But he does his best to help her as best as he could.

39. Gray likes spending time with Wendy because she doesn’t try to fill the silence with words.

40. She enjoys silence as much as he does.

Gray + Lyon

41. There wasn’t a day that past before Guluna that Gray didn’t think of Lyon.

42. He hoped that Lyon was alright, that he somehow found love and peace like Gray had.

43. Eventually Lyon slipped into Gray’s subconscious, where he was only a passing thought.

44. He began comparing his childhood rivalry with Lyon to his adulthood rivalry with Natsu.

45. After Guluna, Gray invited Lyon to join Fairy Tail, but Lyon refused.

46. Lyon went to the Fantasia parade, but didn’t stay long enough for Gray to find him afterwards.

47. Again, after they defeated the Oración Seis, Lyon vanished from Gray’s life.

48. When Gray ‘died’ on Tenrou, Lyon broke down.

49. He was afraid that he would never be able to mend the bond between them, and make Ur proud.

50. He hugged Gray tightly when he returned, but refuses to acknowledge that it happened.

Gray + Ultear

51. Gray had mixed feelings about Ultear when he found out she was Ur’s daughter.

52. He had a crush on her.

53. They swapped stories about Ur.

54. They trained together a lot during the Grand Magic Games.

55. Both have a habit of popping their neck when anxious.

56. Meredy teased them about being siblings.

57. Ultear thought of him as a little brother.

58. Both of their’s favorite color is blue, dark blue.

59. They are both left-handed.

60. They both have OCD.

Gray + Cana

61. Cana is probably Gray’s closest confidant.

62. They can just talk, you know?

63. Gray knew that Gildarts was Cana’s father for years before Tenrou.

64. He acted shocked for Cana’s sake.

65. Gray has saved Cana from drowning in her beer barrel many times.

66. Talk about your feelings to each other, please babies.

67. They dated for a while, they were each other’s first relationship.

68. It wasn’t very serious, but it lasted four years.

69. They broke up before the start of the series.

70. They did hook up a couple times though.

Gray + Loke

71. They dated for a while too.

72. They first started dating a few months before the start of the series and broke up before Loke came out as a Celestial Spirit.

73. Loke broke up with him because he thought he’d die.

74. But they didn’t get back together because Loke wanted to dedicate his time, at the time being, to Lucy.

75. They hooked up before the Tenrou arc.

76. Loke expected Gray would be angry at him for not telling him about being a Spirit, but Gray wasn’t.

77. He understood why he didn’t want too.

78. He was a bit upset about the sudden breakup though.

79. He was also a bit jealous of Loke’s affection towards Lucy.

80. Gray gives the best ear scratches, hands down.

Gray + Makarov

81. Makarov really does worry for this boy’s mental health.

82. He knows about Gray’s destructive tendencies.

83. He also knows about Gray’s attempt at the Iced Shell spell.

84. He made Gray promise never to attempt it again, no matter the foe.

85. He’s tried to give Gray all the counseling and helped he could need, but Gray’s stubborn and can’t admit when he needs help.

86. But he threatened to have Gray’s wizarding license revoked unless he went to counseling.

87. Finally, Gray caved and went.

89. Gray had trouble with writing when he was little, and had worse handwriting than Natsu.

90. Makarov quickly realized it was because Gray was left-handed, not right-handed because he went through the same trouble as Laxus.

Gray + Laxus

91. Gray had a crush on Laxus growing up too.

92. Not as obvious as Natsu, but still noticeable.

93. At least, Laxus noticed it.

94. But Laxus was coming to terms with his own sexuality, so he didn’t chastise Gray for it.

95. They’re both left handed, as mentioned earlier, so Laxus was stuck with teaching Gray how to write.

96. Laxus’s handwriting is surprisingly neat and legible.

97. Gray did his best to copy Laxus’s handwriting.

98. Gray got really into it though, and he practices calligraphy.

99. He and Laxus have the most legible handwriting in the guild.

100. Aside from Levy, Freed, and Lucy.

[kewltie]

college au katsuki is prelaw who gets the thrill of verbally eviscerating people in court just as he does outside of it, trading fists for words but the punch is all the same and izuku is a premed student who wants to save the world one person at a time but also lives on 24hr caffeine addiction. they're former childhood friends who got reacquainted again as dormmates in their freshman years in college and now they're sorta maybe something more but who the fuck even know because they refuse to acknowledge this tentative and fragile relationship between them especially with the turmoil of their shared past.

So katsuki would go out of his way to deliver five coffees for izuku's late night study session in the library. izuku often helps katsuki practice his mock trial and supports katsuki in his mission to tear into his opponent and make them cry. OK MAYBE NOT THE CRYING PART but still proud as fuck. izuku's sleep cycle is consistently fucked because he's always pulling late night studying sessions plus he got all these volunteerings so katsuki would find izuku sleeping randomly in odd places so to make sure he doesn't FUCKING ROLL OVER AND DIE he quietly tucked izuku into bed whenever he catches him sleeping on his desk or some random bench at their campus’ courtyard. While katsuki get really obsessed and competitive with maintain his consistent ranking as the stop student in his class and often hounds the professor when he get a 98 instead of 100 on his term papers and they're like, 'please someone get me midoriya-kun' as an emergency to wrangle katsuki back.

They have a super close and intimate non-relationship where it is THE RUMOR AND SPECULATION OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! katsuki coming to pick izuku up from his late night study sessions and dragging his tired ass back to their dorm across campus!!!! izuku attending every one of katsuki's debate competition and CHEERING HIM ON and professore is tired of saying, ‘midoriya this isn't a concert please calm down’. like they the fact they AREN'T DATING make the rumors even worst because everyone either assume they're FUCKING DUMBASS FOR NOT SEEING THE OBVIOUS or they're having a secret relationship on the downlow but still being obvious BECAUSE THEY'RE DUMBASS but either way they're still dumbasses lol.

worst is that the campus has a yearly best couple competition and bakudeku had been crowned three times since their enrollment and THEY'RE NOT EVEN DATING,,, or so they claimed but pictures of them holding hands, snuggled up in a reading nook in the library, and aggressively feeding each other food say otherwise. it became the biggest joke because they're IT COUPLE ON CAMPUS and THEY'RE NOT EVEN DATING. JUST TWO DUMB BROS being so intimately close that izuku wears katsuki's debate team jersey to class one day with BAKUGOU KATSUKI NAME ON HIS BACK and doesn't even blink when someone point it out.

i have this image of katsuki dragging izuku's sleepy ass across campus because they ARE NOT GOING TO BE LATE for their 8:30am class. izuku spent all night revising his term paper for another class due online at 8am so he's lon living on 9 cups of coffee and an hour of sleep. izuku doesn't even have time to change out of his pajamas before katsuki literally hauled izuku out of their dorm because katsuki had never been late to a class let alone MISS A DAY so he's not letting izuku DRAGGED HIS ASS DOWN lol even though he could have easily gone without him.

they scrambled across campus ground with izuku in his pjs still and NOBODY EVEN BLINK when they burst into the lecture hall with a min to spare. katsuki dumps izuku's sleepy ass in the seat next to his because everybody is kinda use to the 'bakugou and midoriya's show' by now. they dont often take the same course together because of their different majors (law and med) but they always lean toward taking the same elective when they can. so every semester there’s a hotly combative debate about what elective they should take together where it eventually into a war everytime lmao. izuku tends to pick wiLDLY DIFF ELECTIVE EVERYTIME that is humanity base (they took human sexuality one semester and katsuki is still mad about it) while katsuki leans toward classes have real world practicality like ceramics where izuku still kept all of katsuki's cutely shaped mugs.

izuku doesn't even have his notebooks or even his bag because katsuki had grabbed him and go, but katsuki is diligently taking notes next to him, his cellphone is recording the lecture and he got the lecture powerpoint outline printed out. he always come prepared and ready to destroy the class' curve!! while izuku is TRYING V V HARD not to doze off but when he nods off a little as his head about to drop, katsuki without even pausing mid-writing just pulls him back by the collar of his shirt so his head doesn't bang on the desk and it's JUST--!! so simple and dumb but it's INTIMATE!!

when izuku seems to lose the fight with sleep, katsuki brings a hot thermo with coffee in it to izuku's lips and lets him take a sip of it. NOT TOO MUCH because izuku doesn't need anymore to feed his caffeine addiction, but enough to keep him awake just few more mins. izuku is barely cognizant but sometimes the fact that he would raise a hand mid lecture to ask a serious question about the topic at hand is scary to the other students because they all remember that katsuki and izuku are top ranking in their class for a reason even if izuku is a zombie right now. this elective class is about erotica in classics because lol it's izuku turn to pick elective this semester and even tho KATSUKI ABSOLUTE LOATHES IT he's going to fucking ace this damn class even if he has to stare at several thousand years old art of people fucking on a wall.

bkdk are like giant enigma for the class because they take their grades V V V SRLY and consistently wreck the class average but they look like they dont give a single fuck about it because izuku is in his PJs and NODDING OFF IN CLASS while katsuki looks like he would rather die than be here. bkdk is fame not only because they (jokingly) keep winning best campus couple award every yearr EVEN THO they're not dating but because they do shit like izuku is nodding off on katsuki's shoulder while he doesn't seem to even care and/or notice as he debates the prof on a finer detail of the lecture.

once the class is over katsuki half drag and half-carry izuku out of there. he has a class right after this I ten mins and izuku doesnt, but he doesnt have time to drop izuku off at the dorm so he takes izuku with him to his next class like he's just an extra accessory he could bring LMAO. izuku is not even enrolled in the class which is political science class but katsuki deposits him in the seat beside him and lets izuku actually NAP this time as he pay attention to the lecture, throwing his coat over izuku's sleeping form as he snuggles up to katsuki while entire class tries not to stare too much. by the end of the afternoon the entire campus sns is lit up with receipts, recaps, and slyly taken photos of bakudeku's shenigans. there is even a popular running blog where anons can submit their bkdk's encounter stories chronicling their 'WEIRD MATING HABITS OF BAKUDEKU' lol because they are the cryptid bfs of the entire campus that everyone warn each other about but nobody can stop watching this trainwreck from happening.

[promenadewithme]

Prompt List #1 (Fluff/General)

Some by me, the rest by so many other people. Please tell me the prompt and the pairing when you request a fic/headcanon! Also: if you want, I can do Fluff and Smut Alphabets!

1. “Kiss me”

2. “You’re an idiot” “But you love me!”

3. “Stop moving, I’m trying to braid your hair”

4. “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

5. “You are my family”

6. “This reminded me of you”

7. “You’re really warm”

8. “Can I stay here tonight?”

9. “Don’t go. Stay.”

10. “I’m never leaving you, I promise.”

11. “You are such a simp!”

12. “You’re whipped”

13. “I told you to take care of yourself.” 

14. “I love you!” “I love you more!”

15. “Did you just call me princess?”

16. “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.”

17. “Apparently all our friends have a bet going on that we end up together.”

18. “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

19. “I really want to kiss you right now.” “Do it then.”

20. “Sorry... Your hair was in your face... thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

21. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

22. “You make me feel alive. For the first time ever I feel like I can breathe.”

23. “Oh my God! You’re jealous!”

24. “I think I’m in love with you”

25. “I wouldn’t want to spend my life with anyone else.”

26. “(She’s/They’re) so cute when (she’s/they’re) asleep.”

27. “You’re hurt. Please let me help.” “No.” “At least let me clean it!”

28. “Shut up and kiss me.”

29. “You’re an idiot.” “Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

30. “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

31. “Have you seen my hoodie?” “...no...” “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

32. “Aw! You’re blushing!”

33. “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”

34. “I think you might be my soulmate.”

35. “Want some hot cocoa?” “With marshmallows?” “Obviously!”

36. “Come here, give me a hug.”

37. “I wish we could live together already.”

38. “Aw, you’re so cute.”

39. “What did you do?”

40. “This is the opposite of what I told you to do.”

41. “You owe me a kiss.”

42. “You owe me a date.”

43. “Oh, you’ve started stealing my socks now?”

44. “For starters, that’s impossible”  (Nikolai stans please ask for this!)

45. “Have I told you I love you today?” “Only about a thousand times.” “I love you”

46. “That was, by far, the stupidest thing you've ever done.”

47. “Why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”

48. “Well, I am pretty irresistible.”

49. “You make me want to be a better person.”

50. “Why are you wearing my shirt?” “Because it smells like you.”

51. “Darling, I love you, but please step out of the kitchen.”

52. “Because I love you.”

53. “You’re just a softie.”

54. “I love you!” “Ok, tell me that when you’re sober.”

55. “Is that blood?” “Yes, but that doesn't matter right now, what matters is-” “You are literally bleeding!”

56. “Is that my book?”

57. “Did you know that you snore?”

58. “Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

59. “Come back to bed. Please.”

60. “Cheers! I’ll drink to that!” “You drink to everything.” “Cheers!”

61. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright?”

62. (She/They) don´t belong with him!” “Than who does (she/they) belong with?” “...with me.”

63. “Why is arson always your first answer?”

64. “We are not blowing anything up!”

65. “Do you trust me?”

66. “Have you been sleeping?”

67. “Have you eaten today?”

68. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

69. “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words”

70. “If I die, I’m haunting you first!”

71. “Quit touching me, your feet are cold!”

72. “Sharing is caring, now give me your hoodie.”

73. “Are you wearing a onesie?” “uh...no?”

74. “Ok, maybe I didn’t see that coming.”

75. “I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Well, maybe I should start.”

76. “Never trust a man whose smile steals the breath right from your lungs.”

77. “Care for a dance?”

78. “I’d punch you, but that’d ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

79. “Did you just slap my ass?” “Actually, I firmly grasped it.” “Did you just quote Spongebob?”

80. “You couldn’t handle me if I came with instructions.”

81. “Where have you been all my life?” “Hiding from you.”

82. “Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?”

83. “So it’s a date?” “No! Not a date... Unless you want it to be?”

84. “Maybe you should leave the cooking to me.”

85. “You know, you’re not as intimidating as you like to think.”

86. “You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, love.”

87. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

88. “I don’t... I’ve never... been in a relationship and I’m going to make mistakes... I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me.”

89. “I love you, but I need you to go away because you’re really bloody distracting and I have to (finish this/study for this test/work/whatever you want really)

90. “We’re going to die! Oh my God, I’m going to die! I hate this plan, I hate you!” “No you aren’t. The plan is going to work. And I know you love me.”

91. “Can anyone else hear the Jumanji drums or just me?”

92. “Please stop saying those things about yourself, my love. You’re so much more than that, you are so perfect.”

93. “You can put me down now.” “No, thanks. I’m good.”

94. “Marry me”

95. “I love you. Every curve. every edge, every imperfection. I love everything about you.”

96. “I’m going to tell our kids you said/did that someday” “And I’ll tell them you’re lying”

97. “How is my wife more badass than me?”

98. “It’s ok, love. Go back to sleep.”

99. “I named my plant after you.”

100. “You should smile more, it suits you.”

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 1: 3x06 Spectre of the Gun

Okay so, it might be a little early to declare myself a S3 apologist, since there are still a lot of eps I’ve never seen, but I feel like I’m pretty close..

This ep was so good!! Honestly I think it’s one of my faves. And perfect to usher in Spooky Season.

Honestly, this show really is my happy place. Just all the characters together on the bridge, on some kinda adventure, looking at weird space buoys and investigating stuff.

Again, this buoy looks like a Windows 98 screensaver.

Kirk keeps referring to Spock as “Science Officer.” Is he mad at him? Full of some particularly intense longing that requires him to put extra distance between them?

Excuse me, you address US as aliens? YOU’RE the aliens.

Hmmm, so it seems they’re not friendly.

It’s addressing them in different languages!!! I love it. Love the reminder that Uhura’s first language is not English,also.

“True telepaths are dangerous.” As opposed to fake telepaths like Vulcans lol?

The Melkotians withdrew immediately. They invented space travel, they saw space, and they said “not for us” and they turned around and left. McCoy would like them; they’d have a lot to gripe about together.

The welcome mat is NOT out.

“Unlike Mr. Scott’s transporter, this unit is not functioning.”

It legit looked like Spock put his hand on Kirk’s back there. Like he clearly raises it, but not far enough to be seen above Kirk, so like.. what was the point? Where did it go?

LEE CRONIN--oh no, flashbacks lol.

“We come in peace”--immediately pulls out gun.

I should have watched this when writing my Western fic.

Just bits and pieces of a Western town... and a completely red sky...

The guns are “crude but dangerous.” If only Sulu were here; he’d love this.

An announcement with a specific time and place on it--that’s a very precise detail to just pull from their minds. Must have come from Kirk’s, that nerd. Maybe Spock. But probably Kirk.

“Because my ancestors pioneered the American frontier.” I mean did they really get to the frontier? Or just... the Midwest?

Maybe it’s actually because he’s a cowboy at heart?

Aliens using his own ancestral sins as the pattern for his own death for breaking their law IS a great (possibly partially unintended) idea. Oh also, if they think that Kirk and co. are here to ‘tame’ or colonize them, then the Western setting makes even more sense--you’re no different from your ancestors, you came somewhere new and brought lawlessness and violence and death, but not this time!

Can you believe Kirk knows all of these details about the OK Corral? NERD.

Spock is so proud of himself for knowing the phrase “had it out.” Look, I used slang correctly!

These are some creative aliens.

“We know death is real here.” Or is it? They’re literally telepaths guys.

Hmmm, this building doesn’t need a roof I think. - The aliens probably

Can’t believe Scotty thinks his usual is his actual usual lol. You’re going to drink bourbon and like it!

Kirk and Spock look so good together.

They’re obviously Chekov’s disapproving parents.

“The day is still young, Ensign.” I don’t remember the exact context of this but Spock is SO judgmental.

What is Kirk doing? This guy is a hallucination; he won’t be convinced by touching some cloth. There’s nothing to convince! He’s only a Concept.

“Have you seen clothes like this?” / “Yes.” / “Where?” / “On the Claytons!” Comedy gold.

Kirk really thinks he can charm his way out of anything. Hmmm, maybe if I just talk nicely to the Earps, they won’t kill us.

“In small amounts, it [bourbon] was considered medicinal.” Lol.

Scotty is becoming a bourbon guy!

“Mr. Chekov is inVOLVed” lol. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

“A lot of people and things have tried to kill me.” No need to brag.

THAT’S how you make a city limits sign. Put a dead animal skull on top. I live quite close to a city limits sign and I think it could use a cow skull.

Western Cossacks!!

Poisonous snakes and cactus plants. That really distills the Aesthetic down to its core.

This is a good Kirk episode. He’s really being a good Captain: coming up with different ideas, being creative, pushing his crew to brainstorm.

Bones and his tranqs again.

Bones meets his old nemesis: Old Timey Medicine.

Why was Doc Holiday just...chilling in his own dentist chair? (My mom suggested: power nap. Let’s go with that. Power nap + ability for optimally dramatic entrance.)

Also I can’t believe McCoy just goes into this guy’s practice and starts helping himself to all the serious drugs.

Chekov definitely isn’t the marrying kind.

RIP Chekov.

Bones does not sound very sympathetic here. Jim, get over it, he just died, whatever.

And then two seconds later he turns around and tells Spock he’s not sad enough! You can’t win.

“We all knew the risk when we joined the service.”

“My feelings are not a subject for discussion.” !!!!!!! This line!!

“You worked closely with him.” Yes! Chekov is his protege!

“Bones, Scotty, stop bullying Spock.” <-- not an actual quote but it might as well be.

If this were AOS, Spock would already be choking Bones out.

Whoops, no one told Chekov he wasn’t supposed to die!

“Let’s organize! Let’s form an anti-Earp union!”

“I can’t kill them!” he says in a mad rage.

I mean, it is important, though. That’s not what he does.

Kirk is /disgusted/ by lawlessness and frontier justice. What a Rebel TM.

I feel like Bones was waiting for the gotcha moment when Spock compliments him. “Saying nice things about me? That’s not how this relationship works!”

“Nothing can go wrong.” / “Up to now, everything has gone wrong.” He has a point.

That pause before Spock admitted it hasn’t been tested lol--they don’t want to admit it.

“[The bourbon’s] for the pain.” / “But this is painless.” / “You should have told me that before.” The unexpected comedy stylings of Scotty and Spock.

It doesn’t work--guess Spock’s got to take back that compliment now.

“Captain, you don’t understand--they’ve been telepaths the whole time which we already knew!”

“We’re not going to move from the spot.” * is immediately in a different spot * Well I mean at least he’s trying. He’s doing his best!

Love the OK Corral sign also. Weirdly creepy. With its accompanying horse.

Spock doesn’t have any hips for the holster to rest on.

“What did Chekov die of?” / “A piece of lead in his body.” That would do it.

If the tranquilizer should have been effective, does that mean Scotty is actually passed out right now?

Honestly, this is all so spooky. TRUE Western Horror Ghost Vibes.

Also very trippy. If you don’t believe it... it’s not real... some kinda weird chicken and the egg argument regarding our belief in the truth of physical laws idk but it sounds good. Spock brings it home.

Even with the wind whipping around him, Kirk is SO in love. His absolutely adoring expression... So soft...

“Very well, Sir, I’ll meld with you again. Not that I particularly want to. It will be a sacrifice. But I’ll manage. Even though you’re such a dynamic individual haha ha I’m fine I’m cool.”

I feel like Scotty is NOT into the mind meld. He looks terrified. Maybe he should have saved the bourbon for this occasion.

I know the mind meld is supposed to be a replacement for on screen hypnotism...but is this not hypnotism? Like even more than past uses? In this case, Spock is leaving them with suggestions that he wants to continue AFTER the meld, as opposed to, like, efficiently sharing information or giving immediate suggestions. And the scenes themselves are very creepy and...hypnotic.

Kirk’s patented move: WHOLE BODY ATTACK.

Well, we wrapped that up right quick.

Did they... never actually leave the bridge? Or even navigate past the buoy? This actually brings up a lot of questions as to when the aliens started the hallucinations, what their bodies looked like to the rest of the crew, and how they woke up--since there’s obviously been a bit of a time skip, as Bones is already examining Chekov.

Lol at Chekov, saved by horniness. “Nothing but the girl was real to him.”

“A vast alliance of fellow creatures who all believe in the same thing...”

Kirk’s vision of the utopian future is so powerful, he’s effectively gotten the welcome mat put back out.

A personal question? Kirk is intrigued.

Ah, but it’s just another excuse for Spock to be a hypocrite--how did humans survive? How did VULCANS survive? And for the show to remind us of its utopian vision of the future... we will move past violence, we will prove ourselves attractive to and worth of new alien friends.

Then McCoy walks out so Kirk and Spock can have their Moment. He undoubtedly knows what’s up.

So this ep was shown one day before the anniversary of the shootout at the OK Corral AND on Halloween week. It is very much a spooky season episode. So surreal and strange. Ghostly.

I know using sets rather than on location shoots, and not even building whole sets, was a budgetary issue but tbqh I think it worked in the ep’s favor. It added to the alien feeling of it and was an accidentally creative way of showing that these images were pulled from Kirk’s mind.

This felt like a very Classic S1-ish ep to me. I think it’s because Kirk was foregrounded as the Captain/hero and we get to see not just his intelligence and creativity and leadership but also his compassion and his moral core. He IS the values of the series, personified, and that was clear here.

But we also got to see lots of him and Spock, casually working as a pair, and the use of the rest of the landing party crew was very deft also. I loved that there was time to mock Chekov’s horniness, to talk about Spock and Chekov’s professional relationship, to joke around with Scotty, to show more of the Spock and Bones dynamic.

Again, great sci fi concept. I think this would have been another possible inspo for my Pirate AU if I’d seen it in time (although I think I picked a good mission-concept ultimately). I’m fascinated by the Melkotians: who are they? What do they really look like? Do they communicate any other way but telepathically? Are they corporeal? What is their planet like? And most importantly, what experience lead them to be so isolationist? They specifically refer to the aliens as “disease” coming into their home. And it’s when Kirk shows himself to be fundamentally nonviolent even in the face of his own death, they let the Enterprise through.

Basically, I always enjoy hints of alien societies that bring up more questions for me than answers. I love speculating about it.

The next two eps I’ve seen and remember well and I know they’re classics. I’m really looking forward to them!