#Anyways I’ll go in depth later

[heart-0f-a-rebel16]

see I think like the main problem with tcw is that it has this sitcom energy where everything is set back to zero after every arc which absolutely demolishes any sense of progression or character development

[mars-ipan]

green day was really really fun and probably one of those nights you remember for the rest of your life :) we watched howl’s moving castle when we got back (i’d never seen it!) and i understand why everyone wants howl bad. i do too

[yamujiburo]

Why I Love Hanamusa

I get this question very frequently but have never given a really in depth, definitive answer. All just kinda implied through my comics and spread out asks. So here's this I guess! Long post ahead:

First, as a Pokémon fan in her mid 20s, I love seeing a ship where the characters are both in their mid/late 20s. Already, they’re much more relatable to me and my current experiences. Most Pokémon ships are between preteens, which can be cute but ultimately don’t interest me as much as they used to when I was a kid myself. Not enough to get super invested in and draw a lot of fanart for anyways haha.

I’ll also start by saying that canon doesn’t always influence whether or not I’ll ship something. I’m much more drawn to potential. Could the characters work together? Do their personalities work together in a nice way? I feel like this so much of fanon is anyways. Especially with queer relationships because they’re rarely depicted in the first place. A lot of the context for these ships is usually up to the fans to piece together or make up in general. And that’s the fun part to me!

Jessie and Delia have only met in the anime a handful of times. Any interaction they’ve had has either been pleasant, or just a typical Team Rocket interaction, with Delia dismissing them/not seeing them as a threat. Already a great jumping off point for me since, truly, they don’t have any actual beef or true, ill feelings towards each other. It’s not TOO out of the realm of possibility for them to potentially fall for each other. “But Jessie chased Delia’s son around trying to steal his Pokémon!” That’s where that dismissive and aloof attitude that Delia has comes into play. I’ll go more into Delia’s whole deal a bit later but I do think this aspect of her personality is a large reason why this ship can work. It’s not that she doesn’t care that Jessie has a bad past, but she can tell that, on the inside, Jessie’s a good person. And, in a scenario where Jessie is trying to become a better person, is forgiving enough to give her a shot. I feel like this is such a solid foundation for a ship. A character who has done wrong but is trying to be better and another character who is willing to help them be better. A classic dynamic!

It’s not just one-sided though; where Jessie is the only one benefitting and learning from the relationship. I believe Delia could get a lot out of being with someone like Jessie. To understand why, I think it’s important to know these characters’ respective backstories.

Jessie is an orphan/foster child who grew up in poverty. Her mother Miyamoto (from The Birth of Mewtwo) was a Team Rocket operative herself, who went on a mission to find Mew. In order to do this, she had to leave Jessie when she was just a toddler. Unfortunately, Miyamoto went MIA on her mission leaving Jessie to more or less fend for herself. Jessie went through life with zero stability, evident by her MANY different careers and constant moving around. It’s implied in the show that she went from foster home to foster home, and later in life tried being an idol, weather girl, florist, wine connoisseur, actress, most notably a nurse and finally a Team Rocket field agent. And even while in Team Rocket, she, James and Meowth were always doing odd jobs to get by. We see that Jessie used to be a sweet kid, and even adult, but the world and her circumstances repeatedly did her dirty, leading her to become the character we know today. Hot tempered, mean, selfish, etc. But despite this, her soft side does still shine through for the people and Pokémon she cares about. She is incredibly loyal.

Delia, unbeknownst to a lot of fans, also had a rough past (see Pocket Monsters: The Animation). Like Jessie, she had a lot of dreams and aspirations like wanting to be a model and even a trainer. But when she was 10, her mother didn’t let her, telling her that she had to stay home and learn to run the family restaurant (she’s an only child). Delia’s father left her and her mother to be a trainer, and never returned. When she was 18, she married Ash’s father and became pregnant shortly after. But right after Ash was born, he also set off to be a Pokémon trainer. And soon after that, her mother passed away, leaving Delia with just the restaurant and baby Ash. This gives so much context to Delia’s attitude in the show. We see that Delia is pained whenever Ash leaves on a journey, but she never shows that pain to anyone. ESPECIALLY Ash. She’s very quick to shoo him off when he shows any sign of wanting to go on another journey and even when he returns home, she acts more excited to see Pikachu than him almost every time. Without all this backstory, it’s easy to just read this as a funny gag, BUT with context, I think it really shows how quickly Delia shuts down and detaches in order to not confront her own feelings. She’s afraid of losing people and getting hurt again.

All that said, I think Jessie and Delia provide each other with EXACTLY what the other needs. 

Aside from becoming rich and famous, Jessie’s biggest aspiration is to get married. In my opinion, this is more so an underlying want for love and stability. There is no one more stable in the show than Delia. Delia’s lived in Pallet her whole life, she’s worked at the same restaurant since she was young and she is always there when Ash comes back home. She has all the love, patience and stability Jessie needs and craves. While forgiving, Delia’s not stupid and can keep Jessie in check. Delia’s also just an angel, which I feel, would make Jessie want to be better. And on top of all this, on more of a surface level, Delia’s a chef and excellent cook. She shows love through cooking and Jessie, who grew up poor, regularly starving and eating snow, happily receives that love. Jessie’s able to live a happy and healthy life with someone like Delia.

Delia, as stated, is very stable. Likely pretty monotonous and solitary, especially living in such a small town like Pallet. This isn’t a bad thing but it’s a little sad when you consider that Delia also had dreams of traveling, being a model and a trainer. She had to give up so many dreams in order to fulfill her duties as a restaurant owner and mother. And even now, when Ash is off on his journey, she feels the need to always be home and be that stable pillar, leaving behind any ambitions she had, thinking it’s too late for her (she’s only 29 btw). But then along comes Jessie, dangerous, passionate, an absolute firecracker. Someone who’s whole life has been about chasing dreams and either, never giving up on them or finding a new dream to chase. Upon learning about Delia’s past aspirations, I could see Jessie pushing her towards them, letting her know that life’s too short and she has nothing to lose from trying. On top of this, Jessie’s also loyal. She, James and Meowth are depicted as doing anything for anyone who gives them food or shows them kindness. Delia does both so there’s no way Jessie would leave her. This fulfills an essential need for Delia, who is afraid of the people in her life leaving her.

There’s so much potential for mutual growth and learning between these two and I adore that. They compliment each other, they help each other and they bring out the best qualities in one another.

I’m not really sure how to end this and I could truly talk about them even more but I don’t want this to be tooooo long haha. OH I could end it with maybe the most funny aspect of this ship that I've brushed over and also what drew me to it in the first place. Jessie. As Ash’s stepmom. THE END.

[willyoubemycherryy]

What I hear now… (Salesman x reader)

Summary: Piano strings thrum in place of the ones belonging to your heart; playing a requiem for feelings that were never supposed to bloom or even make it.

Contains: angst, hurt, longing, conflicted feelings, music, confusion, he likes you in a way that isn’t homicidal and struggles to deal, you’re just emotional, fear and hopelessness with a few flickers of comfort

A/N- this is how I’m coping with TikTok being banned. I miss everyone so much right now. Cried writing this so I’m sorry.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚ ｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶

This was new.

Tentative breaths shake the atmosphere of the unfamiliar space as you try to quietly adjust. You don’t even remember how you got here, to his apartment but here you are. It’s comfortable, furnished and organized with monochromatic colors and a piano in the middle of the large space and that’s when you remember.

You’d asked him after one of your trysts if he had any secret talents. The question- like you- was unusual but he answers out of the barb-teethed fondness he’s grown for you.

“I’m quite good on the piano.”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at the unexpectedness and you wonder if anyone who’s ever known him knows about his hidden gift.

“You’ve gotta play for me one day.” It’s the first time he’s heard that word without any of the usual foreboding. Play. He can’t recall the last time he ever has in such a meaningful way. He surprises himself by agreeing, nodding with one of his pretty disarming smiles.

“Sure. Maybe I’ll even sing for you too.”

And that’s how you got here. Laying on plush carpet as you lean up on your elbows, next to the large piano as you watch the man sitting at its keys. He’s in a simple dress shirt with the forearms rolled up, black slacks and grey socks. Less put together as strands of hair fall in his face but still beautiful and you feel your heart ache. He shuffles closer before glancing down at you, smiling with the side of his mouth then turning back to the instrument. Seconds later music fills the quiet space around you, stopping your heart before it jumps to your throat as your recognize the melody from the first few notes alone.

He hears your gasp and knows you know exactly what song he’s playing but he doesn’t stop to taunt you- instead he keeps playing. Notes growing in volume then tempo as they spin over each other, cascading in and out of depth before they descend. You go still with wide eyes as you listen, lips shaking from the onslaught of sudden emotion and you swear you hear the words as he shatters your defenses with sure, precise fingers on ivory keys; leaving you bare in all the ways that matter and it’s as mesmerizing as it is heartbreaking.

It was a dangerous dance feeling what you’re feeling for him because he was so limited in both heart and character.

You still didn’t even know what he did for a living but you became familiar with him anyways, what was a fun convenient thing bled into something more with each time he sought you out.

The quiet life you maintained was like a soothing balm to the mangled parts of him he’d given up on healing years ago; accepting that he was just too far gone.

But then there was suddenly you. Scolding him on the train that he “shouldn’t bully the misfortunate” or else one day he’d wake up ugly and even agreeing to play one of his games only the beat him the first and only time you did, refusing to entertain him. Sticking your tongue out at him before getting off at your stop.

“Not hot shit now are you? Dirtbag…”, glaring with a curled lip as you walked off. Maybe it was then. You picked an issue with him not for profit but to stand up for someone you didn’t even know and he couldn’t wrap his head around it. So, he settled for his arms instead and you were nice but nicer when he was nice too and it gave him a glimpse into the other side of life. One he’d never given a thought to.

Yes; he might be able to live with you one day but he could never stay and you could never know why. He refused to drown you in the heavy blood of his world.

When he winds the chorus back, and you find yourself close to tears as you listen to each key; phantom lyrics ringing in your ears.

“I used to hear a simple song,

That was until you came along.

You took my broken melody-

and now I hear a symphony.”

You close your eyes to stop the water because when it rains it pours and against everything, unfortunately- you like him.

The final string of notes soften their crescendo as the song ends and silence fills the space once again. Even with the music gone, you still feel like crying.

He really was quite good on the piano.

You can’t keep your eyes closed forever though but when you open them, he’s already looking at you and your misty eyes, cooing at the tremble in your bottom lip.

“Aw. You’re sensitive to music too-?” You ignore the flippancy in his tone as you cut him off, voice small when you throw caution to the wind for the comfort you so desperately need right now before you fall apart wanting to keep something that was decaying.

“Can I please have a hug?”

Your request shocks him enough to knock his usual ever-present grin off his face for a minute before he wordlessly slides down to where your sitting on the floor, watery eyes firmly fixed onto the carpet before he pulls you into his lap, wrapping you in his arms and you stiffen before melting into him with a sigh, burying your head in his chest.

He doesn’t say anything. If he did, it would end in disaster because he’s never comforted anyone honestly in his life. He could’ve ignored you but he found he didn’t want to, instead he let you need him- wanted you to need him as he consoled you.

You were so unlike him. So different from the strife he normally caused and he wasn’t sure what to do.

“If I knew it would’ve upset you so much, I’d have said something pointless like solving a rubix cube.” You snort at that and the sound gives him a strange sense of relief.

“It’s fine, I’m not upset so don’t worry. It’s not like you.” He stays silent because he knows. He knows any kind of concern that comes from him is abnormal but it’s you.

“Getting soft on me-“

“I could make you cry again if that’s what you’d prefer?”

You two bicker way too casually for the amount of gaps in your relationship but somehow it fits, driving you to settle into him more with a deep breath, enjoying his scent. Neither of you knew what was going on but you’d cross that bridge when it got to burning. For now though;

“You can do that later but let’s just stay like this for a little while longer?”

“….”

“..alright.”

[ummachistaamenos-blog]

undermine - part I

summary: Ana’s a Brazilian engineer who, by total chance, meets Pedro at a coffee shop in LA. What starts with coffee turns into a friendship with benefits—full of desire, intimacy, and longing. Between trips, daily texts, and random meetups, they build something deep—something made of skin, quiet affection, and all the things they never say out loud. A year later, she surprises him on his birthday, and all those feelings they’ve been trying to keep on the sidelines? Yeah, they spill over. warnings: age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving), jealous!pedro, possesive!pedro, short story, two parts story word count: probably 5,000 words side note: Just another story, another little experiment. this one’s gonna be short—I think just two parts—and I’ll try to drop Part 2 either tomorrow (April 17) or by the 18th at the latest. the whole story’s set during his birthday earlier this month, with a tiny bit of flashback at the end of part 1, ok? got the gif at pinterest, not mine but i believe is from @ a7estrellas (?) something like that, sorry. part II is here 👇🏻 part III? part I | part II

∞

"Hello?"

"Ana? It's Lux!" The voice on the other end was giddy. "Everything's set, we'll be on location by five. You'll make it just fine, yeah?"

Ana smiled, juggling her passport and carry-on.

"Oh thank God! I was scared I'd be late. You're sure I won't be intruding, Lu? It's his birthday... family time and all—"

"Intruding? Girl, he's been DYING to see you. Won't stop complaining about your work schedule. Never seen him this antsy."

Ana laughed awkwardly.

Does she know?

"Seriously?"

"Dead serious! Now hurry up, everyone's excited."

They said their goodbyes and Ana pocketed her phone. Her pulse raced—hard to tell if it was the line or the thought of seeing Pedro. She wanted his scent, his warmth...

As the immigration officer stamped her passport, Ana's mind wandered. Did Lux, Javiera and Nicolas know? They were so close. Had they noticed how she and Pedro crossed way beyond friendship? Because when they were alone, it wasn't just affection. It was hunger. It was bodies. A craving so sharp it ached sometimes.

And it'd been weeks. Weeks without his touch, his weight, those rough hands and raspy moans. The way his teeth grazed her ear, her scalp, her throat. The thick veins on his—Jesus. Control yourself. You're at border control.

Later, showered and fed at the hotel, Ana met his siblings at the rendezvous point with hugs and warm chatter. Lux was vibrating, holding a cake with a single candle.

"Surprise! You're delivering this," she said, thrusting it into Ana's hands.

"Me?!"

"Obviously! You're his best present today. Go on."

She definitely knows. Lately, they hadn't been great at hiding it anyway.

As they walked toward his trailer, close friends and crew joined in, some filming, others grinning. Pedro was inside, oblivious, when the singing started.

"Happy birthday to you—"

He bolted to the doorway, eyes widening. He smiled at the crowd, at his siblings—then froze when he saw Ana holding the cake.

His breath hitched.

"No..." he whispered. "You."

She smiled shyly and waved. "Happy birthday, amor."

He moved without thinking. Took the cake, handed it to Lux, then pulled Ana into him like the world was collapsing. A hug so tight it said everything he hadn't yet voiced. He buried his face in her neck and breathed.

Like coming up for air after drowning.

Her scent. Lavender, vanilla, jasmine, sandalwood, patchouli, coumarin. Her favorite notes—of course he remembered. They'd talked about it that night she'd lain in his lap, tracing his fingers while explaining how she loved perfumes that balanced sweetness and depth. He'd laughed, claiming ignorance. Now he was addicted.

On her skin, those notes transformed. Became more than fragrance—they were presence. Memory. Intimacy. To Pedro, this smelled like home. Like safety. Like relief. Like opening the door after an endless day to the right silence, the right touch, the hug that unravels you. It smelled like slow Sunday laughter, bare feet on kitchen tiles, tomato sauce splattering as she danced to Lana Del Rey while he pretended to hate it but sang along anyway.

It smelled like good wine and hands wandering under shirts, like stolen kisses between cabinets and muffled moans against cold countertops. It smelled of raw, reckless want—the kind that ignites without warning and burns like wildfire.

But above all, it smelled like peace.

And peace? That was rare for Pedro. Priceless.

So he lingered there, face buried in her neck, breathing deep. Not just to memorize the scent—but to remind himself that somehow, without explanation, this was the only place left in the world he wanted to be.

"I missed you so much," he murmured against her skin.

Ana shut her eyes and smiled into his shoulder. "Me too."

And for that moment, surrounded by candles and laughter and applause, nothing else existed. Just them.

Pedro finally pulled back just to look at her. "You have no idea how badly I needed you here today."

Her eyes glistened. "Now you have me."

And for once, he forgot everything. All he knew was how much he needed this—even if he'd never dared say it out loud.

∞

The day one.

The sun hadn’t even fully shown its face yet when Ana finished her last set after lifting. The time difference between Houston and L.A. messed with her body clock a little, so waking up early just happened. She was walking light-footed between the gym and the house the company had rented for her and her friends during their three months of training out there. Underground Natural Gas Storage—it was turning into a new obsession, and she was there to learn it.

She was strolling, headphones dangling around her neck, when she spotted a little coffee shop a block over with a cute sign: "Café Baum."

"Oh my God. Minas coffee? Thank you, Lord," she muttered to herself, picking up the pace.

That’s when she saw a guy standing next to a black car—clearly fancy. He was messing with something in the back seat, distracted, and when he shut the door, he didn’t notice it stayed half-open. Ana liked walking alone, people-watching, taking in her surroundings. It wasn’t weird for her to notice the guy. She hesitated for a second. Not a dangerous neighborhood, but still, leaving a door open… figured she’d say something, especially since she was heading to the same coffee shop.

When she walked in, he was already in line. She approached calmly and tapped his shoulder lightly.

"Hey, sorry—" she said with a soft smile.

He turned around, and Ana’s eyes went wide.

It was Pedro Pascal. The Pedro Pascal, right in front of her, with that half-surprised, half-charmed smile. And he was gorgeous. Way hotter than on any screen. Golden skin, brown hair with silver streaks, messy in that effortless way, and his eyes—damn, those warm honey-brown eyes looked like they saw everything. He was wearing a simple dark tee and a light jacket, but he still oozed magnetic charm. And his smell? Oh my God. Woodsy, warm, intoxicating. Ana had to focus not to take another deep inhale like a total freak.

Meanwhile, seeing her stunned face, he went straight to the obvious.

"Yeah, yeah. We can take a pic if you want," he said, friendly but automatic, like he did this every day.

Ana let out a quick, genuine laugh and shook her head.

"No, no! Not that, sweetie... I just wanted to tell you about the door. Your car door. You left it open."

Pedro blinked twice, clearly thrown, then smacked his forehead with pure embarrassment.

"Oh my God... Sorry! What an idiot," he said, almost blushing. "Thanks for telling me. I’m a disaster with this stuff. Gonna go fix that now."

He rushed out of line, and Ana, grinning to herself, went up to order. When he came back, he still looked kinda sheepish.

"I feel like such a dumbass with that whole ‘celebrity moment’," he started when he got back to her. Ana thought he was adorable—the attitude, the charm, the obvious embarrassment and the humility that followed. Did it make him even hotter? Hell yes.

"At least let me buy your coffee. To make up for my shame," he said.

"Didn’t have to, but… if you insist," she replied, faking thoughtfulness with a raised eyebrow.

"I insist. Hard," he shot back with that lopsided, dimpled grin that could melt an iceberg.

They grabbed their coffees and shuffled away from the counter, kinda awkward. A short, comfortable silence settled between them.

"Look… seriously, sorry again. It was automatic. Happens more than I’d like," Pedro said, running fingers through his hair.

Why so damn hot, Ana thought.

"It’s fine. Was funny, honestly," she said, grinning. "And to be fair, you’re an amazing actor. Love your work."

Pedro smiled, genuinely surprised, his gaze softening. "Thanks. That means a lot, really." He studied her closer, like he was actually seeing her for the first time. "You’re from Brazil? Caught a little accent."

"Yeah, Northeast. But I’m in Texas now. Here with coworkers for training."

"Nice. I’m Chilean. Love running into South Americans here. Feels more like home, you know?"

"Oh, totally. We’ve got that same energy. More warmth, more random chatter, more… intensity," she laughed.

"Yes! Exactly!" He laughed with her. "So what do you do? Coffee biz, or just a professional appreciator?"

He slid into a nearby table and gave her a silent join me look. Ana sat across from him.

"Chemical engineer. Here for a course on underground natural gas storage."

"Brains and beauty. Solid combo," Pedro said lightly, but Ana caught a mischievous glint in his eye.

Or am I hallucinating? she wondered.

She flushed a little, pretending not to hear, and laughed. "And you? How long’ve you been acting again?" she teased.

"Oof, low blow. But fair," he chuckled, tipping his head back. "Since… forever? Theater, TV, movies. Not always, but a long damn time. Only recently people started recognizing me on the street, though." He smirked.

Pedro watched her—the way she fiddled with her cup, how she glanced out the window with a half-smile. There was something hypnotic about her. She wasn’t trying to impress him. And yet. The conversation kept flowing easy, natural. Like they’d known each other. And with every word, the quiet attraction burned hotter.

Neither knew it yet, but this wasn’t just coffee. It was the first chapter of something neither expected—but both had secretly wanted for a long damn time.

Ana’s cheeks warmed every time he smiled. She felt weirdly teenage right now, and that was strange. It’d been forever since she’d felt that—the light flutter, the electric buzz in the air. And it wasn’t just the fame. It was the man in front of her. How he listened like she was the only thing that mattered. How his eyes stayed locked on hers like nothing else existed. Like she was interesting. Beautiful. Special.

Pedro was hooked too. There was something about Ana that didn’t fit the usual mold. She was gorgeous in this effortless, quiet way. Her fair skin always looked slightly flushed, and the contrast with her long, straight black hair gave her this ethereal, almost cartoon-princess vibe. Her eyes were expressive, talking as much as her mouth—and her mouth… yeah, he’d already noticed how hard it was to look away.

"So you liking LA so far?" he asked.

"A lot. Thought I'd hate it, but I'm loving it. Probably 'cause I haven't hit traffic yet," she answered with a laugh.

"Ah, so there's still hope for you," he said, grinning wide.

"What about you? You living here full-time?"

"Yeah, for now at least. Shoots are here, and it's easier for everything. But I miss Chile sometimes. The food, the people... speaking Spanish with everyone."

"Same. Portuguese is a needy language. It misses being spoken," she said.

"That's poetic. You write?"

"Just technical reports," she laughed.

"I'm already a fan."

They talked for over two hours—laughing, trading stories, teasing. Ana talked work trips; Pedro ranted about chaotic film sets and insane directors. They tossed Spanish and Portuguese phrases around, laughed at the differences. The chemistry was thick. No awkward silences—just pauses loaded with meaning.

When she finally got up to leave, both their hearts did a little protest. Pedro stood too, clutching his empty cup, hesitating.

"I know this might sound weird… but can I see you again? Lunch, dinner, more coffee… any excuse works," he said, dragging a hand through his hair—a nervous habit, she realized.

Ana smiled, eyes bright. "Yeah. Any excuse works."

The cell signal was still spotty when Ana finally answered the call. She was in the immigration line at Heathrow, exhausted and buzzing with excitement. It was only noon, but the line was endless and she was starving.

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (19/?)

Saw this post ^ immediately thought of seekers :,) Just a short thought about change

———

Starscream had come to notice a quirk of yours - your tendency to just… lie down.

It usually happened after solo training. A satisfied look on your faceplate, you’d lower your frame to the grass. There you lay, spread-eagled on the ground, staring up at the sky and drinking in your fill of blue. The only reason you weren’t still in the sky was your drained fuel tanks, and even then, you strained your frame until mechanisms protested just for another moment in the air.

Starscream had come to fetch you yet again, probably because you hadn’t showed up to refuel. It still surprises you that he would bother with something so inconsequential when you’d seen him tell others to just starve and leave precious fuel for others if they cared so little about their own maintenance.

“I’ve told you countless times that the chemicals in the Terran plants are a nightmare to remove from your paint. It’s almost like you want your wings to be splotchy.”

“I don’t,” You say, but make no effort to move, optics fixed on the wide, wide expanse of the cerulean sky. Similar to the colour of your paint. If you flew high enough, would you’d blend in with the sky? Allow it to hide you from the war below? The only thing keeping you tethered, really, was Starscream. Not that you weren’t grateful for your connections with other mechs - TC, Skywarp, Bee, Ratchet. But try as hard as you might to muster any modicum of emotion for them, it simply wasn’t coming today. That only compounded your guilt, weighing your exhausted frame further into the ground.

You wave a lazy servo in the general direction of Starscream’s voice, resigned to rejection yet hoping to make light of it anyway. Anything to soothe the ache of loneliness in your spark.

“…You could join me.”

Starscream’s emotive EM field prickles irritably. “Were you listening to a word I just said? The stains-”

“I’ll polish your wings so good after this. Promise.”

“…What could possibly be so pleasurable about… lying on the ground?”

“Join me and find out.”

A pause.

“…You’re vulnerable to attack, you know.”

“Not with you around.”

There’s another beat of silence and you think he’s just going to leave you there in a huff. Possibly with an irritated command thrown over his shoulder to be back in the next joor. And it would be more than you could really ask for, that he would allow you your moment of peace even if he didn’t quite understand it.

Unexpectedly, the grass rustles beside you.

“This is beneath me,” Starscream mutters, but he tentatively lowers his frame to the ground, next to yours. Feeling your gaze on him, Starscream tilts his helm to better study the expression on your faceplate, the apertures of his optics whirring quietly to focus on you. His optics glow brightly even in the daylight, and something unnameable in their ruby depths warm you even more than the sunlight on your plating.

You look at him for a klik longer before turning your optics back to the sky.

Blue. Blue. Blue.

You knew your optics had been changing colour and you didn’t know why.

Maybe later, when you were less… whatever this non-emotion was. Empty? When you felt less of whatever this was, you would be pleased that it reflected a growing harmony with Starscream. But right now, it forced you to confront just how much you’d changed without even realising.

Who had you been before?

How had you turned into… this?

Like this, the piercing blue of the sky reflected against colour of your own, you could almost imagine the pure cerulean that they used to be.

“Do you ever wish you could just… fly away?”

“I can’t,” Starscream says bluntly, but it lacks bite.

“I know, I know. But… just… do you wish you could?”

You can feel his optics on you, but you don’t turn to meet his gaze.

“…Why? Do you?”

“I mean, I won’t.”

You almost laugh, then. Sidestepping the question just as he had done.

“You won’t,” Starscream repeats, optics narrowing.

Finally, you turn your helm to meet those blood-red optics. Turning away from the blue of the sky to see the red of his optics reflected back in yours.

“Not as long as you can’t.”

His optics bore into yours. Searching. Even so, not commanding your attention as much as asking for it.

Unable to tear yourself away, you startle when you feel the warmth of his servo over yours.

The question on your faceplate must be clear, even as you grip his servo tight.

But it’s Starscream’s turn to avoid your gaze, his optics trained on the sky.

You trace the shadow of a bird in his optics as it soars over you both. Free. For a klik, his optics glow with a rippling sheen of cerulean blue, and you could have sworn you caught a glimpse of a mech who didn’t know he would become Starscream.

You squeeze his servo gently, and after a beat, feel him squeeze back.

If change is inevitable, then at least you’re changing together.

Previous / Next (Another incredible piece by @quasarwake !! Showstopping stuff that draws out the intricacies of trining instincts and the ways in which our potential connections resonate - undeniable in spite of being unconventional. Aaa)

And some more amazing art from @jackalackqwq !!!!!! Thank you!!!!

[maknaeswrld]

here | h.js

wc: 3.7k

genre: childhood best friends to strangers to lovers; gn!reader; idiots in love; fluff; angst.

cw: mentions of marriage; in depth-ish depictions of panic attack; I think that's really it, please let me know

a/n: The Hannie POV nobody asked for and I wrote anyways bc I missed my first fic dumbass babies. if you'd like to experience the full story and haven't yet, start here

roadmap: starts in present; gives his perspective on the time just before and after losing contact; ends back in present (The SOUND + 5 Star era) ((yes it's been that long since I released the original story))

Felix comes bounding in, practically shaking in excitement as he grabs Jeongin and disappears just as fast. Jisung blinks at it, not really paying much attention, his younger members are always up to stuff, but curious about what had garnered Felix’s attention.

He chose not to think about it too much as he fiddled with his mic pack.

Until Jeongin and Felix came back with Jeongin buzzing with just as much excitement.

“Y/n’s here!” Felix shouts. “I just had Innie confirm it for me, they’re actually here! They’re sitting-” Jisung lost all ability to pay attention as his head whipped toward Chan, who was already pulling his shirt back on.

“Go inform the band, I’ll tell production.” Chan says, looking directly at Han as the others seem to fade to the background. “And do not do anything stupid.” Han nods and all but runs out of the room, grabbing band members as he sees them.

“We’re gonna do There during intermission.” He says, sounding as breathless as he feels. “And don’t worry, this isn’t gonna be a regular thing I just, I really need to perform it tonight.” His drummer just pats his shoulder encouragingly. 

“Don’t worry man, we’ve got your back.”

As the spotlight hits his face, he’s smacked with the realization that he has no idea where you even are. There’s hundreds of people in the stadium, thousands of eyes watching him curiously as he nervously clears his throat. The crowds have never affected him quite like they were in that moment.

“This wasn’t exactly scheduled, and I’m sorry about that, but I just talked it over with the others and with the band and we’re going to perform There for all of you tonight. This song is, well it’s really important to me.”

As the opening chords start, Jisung feels his heart in his throat as he prepares to sing, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of you.

He hadn’t written this particular song, though there were plenty he had written for you, but when Changbin and Chan showed it to him, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was one that would resonate with you. He knew, or at least he very deeply hoped, that if you ever heard it, you’d think of him. When he had told them this, they agreed they’d perform it live should they ever find you in the crowd, should Jisung ever get the second chance they all wanted for him. 

They all knew he was in love with you, they knew before they ever even met you. Han Jisung has never been good at hiding his emotions, and when it came to you, it was almost as if there was nothing to hide because when they met you they could all see you felt the exact same way. 

What none of them could ever figure out was why you never told each other and how Jisung let you slip away so easily. It was like one day you were there as you always had been and the next you didn’t exist. No one knew why Jisung let communication dwindle to nothing, but they had all felt the loss when you fully exited their lives.

***

For as long as he could remember, Jisung had you by his side. He remembers playing in puddles and bathing together before it was considered weird. He remembers you hitting his bullies and getting suspended in elementary school, he remembers when puberty hit and he realized you were hot, and then later when he came to the conclusion you weren’t just hot you were also exactly who he wanted to spend his whole life with, in a non platonic way.

That realization hadn’t freaked him out as much as he thought it should have, he already knew he had never wanted you to leave him, so the addition of emotions his young mind couldn’t fully comprehend wasn’t that big of a deal. Not really. 

You supported him like no one else. You took care of him, helped him through his anxiety attacks, protected him even if he didn’t necessarily need it. He was young, he knew it’d likely mess up your friendship if he said anything, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would be his fairy tale ending,,, one day. If you felt the same. 

So instead of outright telling you how he felt, he started fishing for how you might feel. The joke of ‘are you in love with me or something’ quickly became an ongoing thing that you would both use when the other did something that resembled even the smallest bit of possible affection. It went from a way for him to see if you felt the same to a safety net for you both to use to say it without actually saying it. 

It was obvious to everyone, including the both of you, that the relationship went beyond friendship, but he never acted on it, too terrified of being wrong to risk it; and then later too afraid of pulling you into a world that you didn’t want to be a part of. 

As Jisungs fame grew, his need to keep you by his side both intensified and dwindled. 

In all reality, he was terrified of rising to fame alone, of having the spotlight on him and not being able to look to his side and see you. The thought of you not supporting him every step of the way, of not being with him, of losing touch and never being able to find his way back to you scared him more than anything he’d ever faced. But on the same hand, he wanted you nowhere near the spotlight. 

He knew the risks that come with the industry, and he knew how much worse it could potentially be if people thought you were romantically involved. The music industry isn’t always the most pleasant and he knew it, you knew it, so as much as he despised the idea of losing you, the thought of you losing yourself by following him seemed so much worse. 

Jisung wanted to always protect you, keep you from the dangers and toxicity of relations of any kind with an idol. He was torn in half about it. He wanted to be selfish and keep you close, but he needed to keep you away. He knew the boys would take care of you if he had tried to keep you close, he knew Bang Chan would never let the company dictate your life in any way, but the risk far outweighed the reward at the time. Jisung didn’t know what he would do should he ever have to watch you get dragged into a lifestyle you never wanted.

When you told him you were moving to America for your promotion, it was as if it were the answer he didn’t know he needed. Between the timezones, him and the members getting busier, and your new work schedule, losing communication all together wouldn’t be too difficult.

The thought of purposely losing contact with you made his stomach twist horribly, guilt riddling him, but he had to, it was the only way to keep you safe. The only way to keep you untainted by the dark side of the world he threw himself into. 

He didn’t bank on his members caring for you so much, making it drag out longer than he anticipated, asking when he was going to call you so they could steal his phone to talk to you themselves. They would ask him why you stopped calling every night, to which he’d shrug and pretend he hadn’t silenced your number. As they got busier, the thought of you slipped further and further from everyone's minds, and by the end of your first year in America, it was as if you didn’t even exist.

His heart ached at every little thing that would bring a reminder of you to his mind, from seeing your favorite flower to trying a new restaurant and wishing he could share it with you. You were a ghost that haunted him in everything he did. Every song he wrote was a story of you or to you. 

The members never pushed him to try and contact you, but he sometimes wished they would, that they’d force his hand and call the number he wasn’t even positive belonged to you anymore. The closest anyone ever got into making him remember you was when one of the members would buy something that reminded them of you. Between the eight of them, there was an entire bookshelf in each dorm dedicated to gifts they should have been giving you throughout the years, although not a single one of them ever acknowledged that being the case.

Han wished they’d bring you up, he wished they’d force him into remembering you and everything he had, everything he could have had. 

It was shortly after the release of NoEasy that he’d bought the ring. He was out shopping with Jeongin and Hyunjin when he saw it, and all he could see was it resting on your hand. He’d purchased it and stashed the small box carefully away so there could be no possible pictures spread, and therefore no rumors. 

Jisung never truly believed he’d see you again, part of him might’ve even hoped he’d never see you again, it’d be easier to suffer in his choices than it’d be to try explaining them to you. 

But a much bigger part of him couldn’t leave his apartment without that ring. After buying it that day, it’d taken up permanent residence in his bag, never once separating from his side. Changbin had laughed after seeing it the first time.

“What, do you plan to just drop to one knee and pop the question the second you reunite?”

Jisung’s cheeks turned bright red at the teasing. 

“And what if I do?”

Changbin just looked at him like he was his own special kind of stupid and was wearing a giant sign that announced the fact. 

Sometimes, when the studio was empty and the hour too late for any human being, Jisung would let himself dwell in the memories of the past, trying to remember how it felt to have you in his orbit, your gravity keeping him on his axis. He’d let his mind drift through the memories that he typically kept tucked away. 

Thinking of your smile, your shared inside jokes, the way you’d loved him so hesitantly for so many years, both eased his heart and made it contract with regret every single time, but it’s also where so many of his songs started. He was an emotion writer and you were his favorite emotion.

As the years passed, he grew more confident in the fact that he’d successfully run you off. The ring remained in his bag, but was handled less. The songs were still written, but not as often. He was comfortable in the fact that you were good and gone, that he would never see you again.

Until that was no longer the case.

~~~

As the song came to an end and Jisung still hadn’t been able to find you, he tried to keep his shoulders straight. Tried with all his might to keep a semblance of a smile on his face. But he knew he wasn’t successful when Chan grabbed him and gently directed him backstage once again.

“Sungie, I really need you to come back to us, okay? Y/n or no Y/n, we’ve still got a job to do and getting into your head is just going to take you further away.” Chan, always the voice of reason, could hardly hide the concern clouding his eyes and voice. Han hated making Chan worry about him, especially in the middle of shows.

“You’re never gonna find them and get them back if you don’t get out there and keep trying.” Seungmin smacked him on the back, shoving a bottle of water into his hand and continuing past.

Taking a few anchoring breaths, Jisung quickly changed into the next stage's outfit, let the make-up staff do their job, and finally found his way back out on the stage. 

He never stopped searching. His eyes constantly looking over every single face he could see from the stage, begging his eyes to finally pick you out of the crowd. Stomach moving further and further up into his throat the longer he went without laying eyes on you. And then Minho laughed.

There weren’t many sounds that drew Jisung’s attention quite as fast as a genuine laugh from Minho, the noise caught him off guard and pulled him in his direction instantly, a genuine smile already making its way onto Jisungs face.

Han threw an arm over Minho’s shoulder, a grin splitting his lips as he lifted his mic for his upcoming part, before Minho shoved him into a downward spiral of losing all track of his surroundings.

“Straight ahead, about eighth row maybe.” His friend nodded slightly, and Jisung’s eyes were scanning the direction, instantly finding yours. 

The world didn’t stop, it didn’t go quiet or fade away entirely, but Jisung felt like it should have, like finally seeing you again was everything he needed in that moment and the rest of the world could find something else to do as long as you kept looking at him.

Minho’s hand squeezing Jisung’s side roughly snapped him back into the reality of the situation though. The rest of the world wasn’t going to just leave right now and the major choreography was coming up. He couldn’t help smiling at you again before getting ready to continue doing his job, barely recognizing that he completely missed his part.

After having finally found you, he couldn’t stomach losing sight of you, fearing the second he stopped looking at you, you’d vanish. As if he’d made you up. It caused plenty of mess ups in both choreography and lines, but by the time the concert came to an end, he was convinced you really, truly were right there.

After saying his goodbyes to Stay, he rushed to the closest member of security he could find and begged for him to go get you, giving him your name and approximate location. The energy of a good show was an adrenaline high unlike any other Jisung had ever experienced, the excitement coursing through the group aided with the joy of knowing you’d been in the crowd. 

Jisung realizes maybe too late that he should’ve asked if his members were okay with him pulling you backstage, if they wanted to see you and get to know you again as much as he did. He hunts down Chan to ask, albeit too late for his no to have any real effect. 

“If you hadn’t sent someone to find them, I would’ve done it myself. You’re crazy if you think we were going to let them leave without trying to reconnect. We all missed Y/n too, you know.”

Chan meant to be comforting, but it had the reverse effect. Jisung knew his members cared about you too but he’d never really stopped to think about how much him pushing you away may have affected each of them. 

Had the decision been completely selfish? Had he caused pain to everyone important to him for nothing if you accept the invitation and come backstage? In the end, Jisung knew blocking you out had been selfish, he knew that he should have left it to be your decision to make, that if you were going to leave it should have been because you wanted to not because he made you. If he hadn’t, would you be on tour with them right now? What would be different if he had talked to you about his fears instead of just choosing to act on them?

The further his brain went down that thought, the more he had to pace to try and keep his heart rate somewhat steady. He avoided messing with his hair, knowing that his stylist would chew him out for pulling it again, but damn it did he want to. The air felt too thin, the lights too bright, he hadn’t just hurt you, he’d hurt his band too. He hurt every single person he wanted to be the best version of himself for, every person he never, ever wanted to hurt.

“I need you to breathe for me Sungie, deep breaths. Can you follow my breathing?” Chan didn’t try to touch him, just hoped he listened while watching his friend spiral. “That’s it, there you go.” Chan could feel his whole body shake with relief as Jisung remembered his breathing techniques and started to calm down, even if only slightly.

He slowly reached into his pocket, fishing out the box Jisung insisted on taking with him everywhere. Gently, he reached out to place the box in Jisung’s shaky hands.

“I’m gonna go in there now. If you need me, you can send one of the guards in for me, okay? But remember, that is your best friend in this whole world in there. You’re going to be okay.”

Jiusng hugged him tightly before letting him go. He opened the box slowly, staring at the ring he’d picked out so many years before, his heart in his throat looking at it.

He snapped the box shut again, shoving it deep into his pocket, out of sight as if the box had burned him, eyes moving to the ground as his pacing started back up, Chan’s last words on repeat in his head. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s just your best friend. Your best friend in the whole world that you’ve been out of touch with for years. You’ll be okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t want to see you. Oh my god, what if they don’t want to see me.”

“Han Jisung, would you stop rambling under your breath and hug me already?”

Han’s head whipped up, eyes wide, and for a moment all he could do was stare at you in shock, all he could think was that you are really here, truly in front of him and actually demanding a hug. 

And then he rushes towards you, pulling you into a hug so tight, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. He sort of is.

“I missed you so much.” Jisung whispers, his voice watery even to his own ears, likely from his earlier breakdown.

You hug him back with just as much strength, clinging to him and willing away tears of your own.

“Careful, it almost sounds like you’re in love with me or something.” You try to joke, your voice just as unsteady as his.

Everything Jisung had ever thought and never said, every song he’s ever written and every night he’d stayed up remembering you and all the times he could have told you flash through his mind. His heart ached. 

“And what if I am?” He whispers. He could feel your breath catch in your throat. Tears still threatening his lash line.

Before you can say anything, he starts fumbling for his pocket before pulling out a small black box. He takes a deep breath, not bothering to try and decipher if it was a good idea before sinking down onto one knee, his mind fearful but determined as your eyes widen in shock.

“Because I am, ya know? I always have been. You’ve always been my ending, Y/n/n. And I had promised you once that you’d be stuck with me for the rest of your miserable life, and that I’d put a ring on it if it meant never losing you. Well, then I did lose you, and now that you’re here, I don’t intend on ever letting you slip away again. So, marry me, and let me spend the rest of my life by your side, because I joke about your miserable life a lot, but I know for a fact how miserable life is without you and I don’t want it.”

Jisung knows you better than he knows himself sometimes, but he’s never been good at dealing with you crying. But before he could put the ring up to attempt to console you instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, nodding as you grab his face and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips are salty, likely from your shared tears, and his are a little chapped, but they meet yours just as eagerly. His heart swells with the utter completeness of it all, as if this is how it always should have been.

You both pull apart for air, Jisung leans his forehead against yours as he grabs your hand to slide the ring into place, the sounds of whooping and hollering not too far off. 

Jisung is unsurprised to see all of the Kids watching, but he can’t help but blush at the four strangers grinning from ear to ear accompanying them.

He blushes and you grin, tears still flowing as he wraps you up into his embrace, thrilled to finally have his best friend in the whole wide world back and beaming proudly as you showed off your ring to two of your apparent friends.

“I love you.” Jisung whispers as he helps you stand up after a few moments to recollect himself.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, leaning further into him and he swears he could live off of just hearing those words from you and feeling you in his arms.

“Sweetie, you’ve got some major explaining to do.” The tiny blonde girl glared at you.

“And so do we. Thanks Hannie.” Seungmin grumbled, being unable to hide his smile even as he said it.

Jisung looked at you, wearing his ring, back in his life where you should have always been, and despite the exhaustingly long conversations and apologies to come, as well as the amount of explaining Chan is probably looking forward to with the company, Jisung couldn’t find himself to feel anything but pure, unadulterated joy right in that moment.

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are always always appreciated, I love to hear thoughts and opinions!🫶

[ryanmarshallryan]

Pride Pool Party

Here is a vore story inspired by a scenario requested by @malebellyvore987

Nathaniel and Jonathan were having a lot of fun celebrating their first pride month together as boyfriends. They went to the local parade and watched all the fun floats go by, waving to their friends who were marching along among the floats. Nathaniel’s younger brother, Hector, had never been to a pride parade but had always wanted to go, so they let him tag along.

“I think Mario’s hosting a pool party sometime later today,” Jonathan mentioned to Nathaniel as they watched a gay men’s chorus march by blasting Chappel Roan, “did you wanna stop by for a bit? Maybe after we drop off Hector?”

Before Nathaniel could chime in, Hector who had been listening blurted out “Pool party! I wanna come!”

“Hector, this won’t be like one of your college frat parties,” Nathaniel responded, adjusting his sunglasses in the hot sun, “I think the dress code is speedos… or less.”

“C’mon we don’t have a pool, and it is soooo hot. I don’t have a problem with guys there assuming I’m gay,” Hector retorted.

“Yeah, but isn't this like your first pride? We don’t wanna overwhelm you too much,” Jonathan added.

“Guys relax, I can blend in. Anyways I’d spend most of my time under the water, not bothering anybody…” Hector replied, now beginning to pull his sweat drenched shirt off over his head, “but I’ll let everyone enjoy the view.”

“Gross,” Nathaniel joked when Hector revealed his skinny toned frame. Someone on a float whistled at him and Hector spun his shirt around over his head in response.

After making their way back through the crowds and taking the subway, they found their friend Mario’s apartment complex and headed over to the secluded pool area. 

The scene had been decked out in the vomit of a rainbow monster. Multi-colored streamers adorned the fence. A rainbow-sequined fabric was strung up near a box of props for photo taking. The pool was littered with rainbow and pool donuts, and the snack table was arranged as well with donuts adorning rainbow designs. Hector admired some particularly lewd posters hanging by a changing area, and saw a caption underneath that read like “Made by an actual, full-time gay man, not but some money hungry conglomerate that showers the world in rainbows only one month a year.”

Nathaniel and Jonathan found their way into a changing area, visited with Mario and chatted a bit, then dove into the pool to cool off for a bit and socialize with the other swimmers. Jonathan began to remark “where’s Hector,” when they saw a flash above their heads as Hector jumped over them in only his underwear and did a cannonball in the center of the crowd.

“Well, there’s your answer,” said Nathaniel, wiping water out of his eyes.

Hector stayed true to his word and began exploring under the water to get out of the heat. At one point he came up to Jonathan and Nathaniel and whispered, “I’ve never seen so many yahoos in my life!”

“Yahoos? You sound like you're twelve,” Nathaniel replied.

“Hector, maybe don’t stalk guys' junk from under the water,” Jonathan added, “It’s kinda weird.”

“Only admiring, don’t worry,” Hector said, then pointing to a guy across the pool, “He’s been doing it, too.”

“I think I’m gonna go dive into the pool,” Nathaniel said, searching for an excuse to leave this uncomfortable conversation. 

Hector nodded goodbye, then went off jumping back underwater and splashing nearby swimmers who were caught off guard.

Nathaniel closed his eyes and took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that everything was going great, willing the universe to not let his brother mess up his pride pool party day. Apparently the universe had other plans. For the moment Nathaniel opened his eyes and lept head first to dive into the water, he saw a slim figure approaching from the depths of the pool, that was not his reflection.

It happened very quickly. Hector, who had been playing around sitting on the bottom of the deep end, then coming up for air at the last second, zoomed to the surface and opened his mouth as wide as he could to take in a big gulp of air. But instead he got a face full of his brother, Nathaniel, who slammed hard into the back of his throat, and kept sliding down with astonishing speed into his rapidly expanding stomach. Nathaniel felt his arms crumple against his body, as he was forced to curl up, tightly encased in the balloon of his brother’s stomach. Hector, had the wind knocked out of him from the unexpected gulp of Nathaniel, and experienced a short period of shock as he tried to suck in air but could not pull down his diaphragm. 

Jonathan swam over, planning to greet Nathaniel in the pool, and wiped the water out of his face to find Hector, who was now wheezing with his torso under the water.

“Hector, are you okay? Did you swallow a bunch of water or something?” Jonathan asked, concernedly.

Hector tried to respond but was still too out of breath to form words. But a guttural, mumbled and grumbling sound issued out of his throat. Hector took one more deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but instead found another voice issuing from out of his throat saying, “Oh he swallowed something all right!”

Jonathan looked down in surprise. He assumed the large view of Hector’s gut was simply an illusion of the light refracting in the water. He plunged under the water, opened his eyes to the stinging chlorine, and put his ear to Hector’s deformed and distended belly, which was forming the exact shape of his boyfriend in fetal position. He could hear frustrated grunting.

“Hector, you ate my boyfriend? You ate your brother?” Jonathan yelled in confusion.

Hector replied with a sheepish, toothy smile to show apology. “In my defense he literally dove down my throat,” Hector replied, now rubbing his tight gut.

“Regardless of how it happened, it’s time to get him out. Right now,” Jonathan tried to push on Hector’s stomach, but ended up just pushing Hector through the water to the shallow end. Swimmers they passed by stopped the conversation to gaze at the unexpected view of the tight man-filled belly emerging out of the water. “Nothing to see here people, unless you got some emetic drugs or something.”

Jonathan got Hector up against a wall of the pool and continued pushing, but that just made Nathaniel more uncomfortable, and as he tried to wriggle around to avoid being squeezed too hard by the stomach and added pressure of Jonathan’s hands, Hector moaned in discomfort as his insides were pressed tightly against his spine to make room for the comparatively gigantic mass in his gut. 

Next, Jonathan made Hector open his mouth wide again, and tried to shove his arms down Hector’s throat to grab Nathaniel and pull him out. This not only did not work, it had the opposite result, as Hector’s peristalsis kicked in and he began swallowing Jonathan as well.

Jonathan had just enough time to yell “I need a big strong bear to pull me out of this!!!” before his head was sucked in along with his arms into Hector’s powerful esophagus. 

By the time the bears had been summoned, Jonathan was up past his groin into Hector’s mouth and throat, and his arms and head had reached the stomach. Jonathan and Nathaniel got closer than they ever got before as they were crushed between Hector’s clammy stomach walls, with tingling stomach acid and sweat making it difficult to grip onto one another.

One of the bears reached his arms around the slender waist of Hector from the back and picked him up, with pressure on the lower half of Hector’s belly. Two other bears grabbed hold of Jonathan’s legs, which only the lower half of were showing outside of Hector’s mouth. Mario came over too and started chanting “1… 2… 3… Heave!!!” over and over again. LIttle by little, inch by inch, they pulled Jonathan’s body back out of Hector’s maw. Jonathan was trying his best to hold tight to Nathaniel, but as his head made it past Hector’s face, he felt his hands slipping. Luckily one of the bears noticed, grabbing onto Nathaniel’s wrist and pulling with a great might. 

Once Nathaniel and Jonathan were freed from Hector’s surprisingly powerful and durable stomach, the lot of them waded in the water with the bears, all catching their breath. The guys thanked the bears, who thanked them for an unexpected and interesting experience. One of the bears tickled Hector’s belly and joked that the little’s stomach was much bigger than his eyes it seemed. The other bear that had held Hector from the back gave Hector a slap on the butt, and swam on.

The last of the bears admired Nathaniel and Jonathan saying, “Hey if you two ever wanna have fun inside a gut that’s actually roomy enough to hold both of you, send me a message.” He pulled a sticky note pad and a pen out of his pocket and wrote his number down twice and gave it to each of them. The bear gave them a wink, and swam backwards, letting his belly rise above the water, looking like a whale coming up for air.

“How did that guy have a dry piece of paper in his pocket?” Jonathan asked.

“Honestly a lot of surprising things happened today and that’s the least of my concerns,” Nathaniel replied.

Jonathan held the paper up out of the water to avoid getting it wet, “Well, it could be fun to try something new.”

Mario dove into the water next to them and came to chat. “All right, Hector? Maybe refrain from eating these lads in the future,” he said, patting Jonathan and Nathaniel on the backs, “but if I run into any willing meals I’ll send them your way,” he said with a wink.

“Oh, no, that was all an accident, I didn’t mean to - wait, there are guys willing to - ” Hector began.

“Thanks so much for hosting, Mario. Sorry for my brother. He gets nervous and starts stress eating in crowds,” Nathaniel cut him off.

“No I don’t! Don’t make me - “ Hector began again.

“Well don’t just be food, come eat some! We’ve got a great buffet over by the changing rooms. And I mean eat as much as you can, I do not have the fridge space for all of this,” Mario implored them.

“I think I know a guy who could definitely help with that,” Nathaniel said, just before playfully punching Hector in the gut. “Race ya,” and they were off to the buffet to fill their bellies, and enjoy the rest of the pride pool party.

[taekooktimeline]

Hello 👋🏽

As always, if there’s anything I could’ve written better, please let me know. I won’t move these pieces to their respective spots in the 2024/2025 chapters for a few days to give people time to review and provide feedback. I’m super busy this week so please be patient if it takes me time to respond (I’m working 40 hours, applying at colleges and volunteering at the hospital for 12 hours).

I’m always in my head about my posts, hoping I’ve worded everything the best they can be worded, but I’m especially anxious for these posts. My head is not with social media at all. Usually, I will throw pieces together as news comes out and clean them up at a later date. With these new posts, I had to go back and remember what happened because I didn’t leave any notes with pictures and links.

Long story short, and not to get dark or political, but just to clarify why I’m inactive and my headspace isn’t great: not only am I still trying to figure out my medical mysteries a year later, I’m now dealing with my country completely collapsing into chaos and garbage, something I never thought I’d say since I’m in a Western (and what I thought was decently progressive) country. I had fears this would happen but it’s so much worse than I thought. Apparently, we’re going to let illegal and unconstitutional things happen and not use checks and balances. I’m embarrassed, angry and ashamed at the state of things. There’s a lot of real, daily stressors that I’m dealing with because I’m in a targeted group, which has led to some hard and fast decisions to apply for another college degree and pursue fallback options as my “just in case” plan B. I had planned to pursue Japanese college courses for fun and now that’s either on the back burner or going to be juggled with part time school around full time work. I’m conflicted on what to do and next steps with a lot of things. My family refuses to immigrate. I’m spending a lot of days tense, crying, stressed, and wondering what I should do. I’ve worked really hard to get to a good place in my life and the threat of it being taken away is very real. It sucks and it’s sad. I’ve been mourning about it all and bracing for worst case to happen. Things that seemed right and safe no longer feel that way. It’s hard to focus on social media and leisure activities when I’m battling constant, in real issues that must take precedence.

Also, this post isn’t meant to stir up political arguments so just know if you agree with what’s happening, I’m not going to respond. We can mutually block each other and move on. I’ve cut off family and friends who let this happen so I have no problem doing it with SM friends too. This post is meant to explain in more depth why I’m not active on SM, why I’d appreciate being left alone (not tagged in drama, which is never appreciated anyway), and why I’d really be grateful for feedback on these newer posts.

I’ll still update the timeline. I’m very much excited for Taekook to come back, I’ll always cheer them on and support them in all the ways I can. But I’m not going to be active on TW and IG for the foreseeable future. I’ve got one baby splice / video / edit thing (I’m not sure what to call it) that I’ve sat on for months so maybe I’ll find energy to post that soon as a just because, but otherwise, my accounts will stay locked up and inactive besides updating the timeline.

Take care, wishing you the best, thank you for reading 💜💚

[colombinaa]

radfems, thank you.

my journey of becoming a radfem has been long and rather solitary. throughout 2024 i was able to listen to perspectives i had never heard of before and see new sides of this society, both in my real, personal life and through the voices and testimonies of other women. consequently, my views started developing and evolving.

during this time i never called myself a radical feminist, as i didn’t know all its core points and their meaning/explanation. i did recognise my leaning towards it though.

at the same time, i had no idea about the whole “terf” thing. being straight barred me from a lot of the misogyny around the matter. i had only seen that term in a specific occasion and shoved it back as a non-issue. looking back now, i shouldn’t have.

then november arrived and i peaked. it was heartbreaking, infuriating, disappointing, enraging. i felt betrayed, that stupid girl who never understood why she was always excluded, the foolish young woman who still has that slow heart.

contemporarly, i found out what “she’s a terf” actually meant. i researched radical feminism and its core values and saw my own reflected in it. i started trying to find like-minded women, at least online, and with that i found names of writers i had already heard of, quotes and paragraphs i had already read, women i should’ve looked up on google earlier. i can see how that class consciousness i have gained throughout last year would’ve lead me here anyway, sooner or later.

now i am here. i got basically all the theory to read, in-depth analysis i can’t wait to read and that is gonna help me set my thoughts and values into clear words, something my autistic brain definitely needs help with. i’ll have to learn how to put all this into action too. but the moral compass i’ve been building is already there, and so is the resolution of speaking up.

the female socialisation is still going hard, the internalised ableism and late diagnosis effects too; i’m young and in burnout, and still learning. but i’m happy to be here. i’m happy to have reached this place. both metaphorically and literally ahah. i’ve been on this app for like two months and i already feel like starting to make more personal and chill posts, like that etruscan woman that got the same tittie shape as me (i’ll never shut up about this) like i swear. and to the allistic girlies reading, trust me when i say for me it’s a big thing! (the being more chill thing, not the tittie shape one - i mean yes that too but you get what i mean).

so thank you, radfems, for never giving up.

and also thank you for creating a rather normal community in which we keep discussing topics and practicing criticism instead of preaching dogmas and shunning for thoughtcrimes, i was fucking exhausted tbh

[creatortools]

AU KARMOR AND MAD CROW (Swapped with Mahatma and Attila)

OMG THIS TOOK SO MUCH EFFORT GGRGRFSRNJINUFSDINFINEEEKKSKS AND I GOT LAZY AT THE END. DIGITAL ART IS NOTTTT MY STRONG SUIT.

This is my designs for Mahatma!Karmor and Attila!Mad Crow from one of the AU ideas I had in a previous post. I do have some info on the actual images but I might go in depth later.

But, anyways, enjoy my design for Mahatma!Karmor and Attila!Mad Crow <3 I’m guessing I’ll be doing Karmor!Mahatma and Mad Crow!Attila next. I have a reference image for Karmor’s outfit after the cut! I might post some doodles of these two(?) once I draw them.

URGRGGRGD I NEED TO GO TO BED I HAVE 3 TESTS TMRW GRRR.

[emphasisonthehomo]

Threshold teaser snippet! Vague spoilers.

•

“Were you serious about wanting to look for a new mattress?” Evan asks a week later.

It’s mid-morning. Tommy still has a little over 10 hours left of his shift, and is squirreled away in a corner of Harbor Station where he can have a conversation and be about 80% sure his coworkers won’t overhear. They’re talking just to talk. It’s nice. Evan must have slept in, because there’s still an obvious line on his cheek from the crease of a pillowcase.

“Yeah.” Tommy says, leaning against the wall and holding his phone close, “You were right, I do need a new one.”

“Good,” Evan says, all business, before picking up a pile of paper and tapping them on the counter a few times, “Because I did a little research, and I was thinking, you know. Since the squeaking of springs is kinda an issue, I’d look into some foam mattresses for you. And there’s some really good ones on the market right now–”

Tommy adjusts the volume to make sure he can hear everything Evan’s saying over the bustle of the station around him. Evan’s in his kitchen, his phone propped up on something. The top of his hair is out of frame. As Tommy squints, he can see that Evan’s holding several printed pages of consumer reports.

“–and obviously you’re gonna want to avoid something with fiberglass,” Evan continues seriously, “How that’s legal, I have no idea. Probably lobbyists. So anyway those are already out. IKEA apparently has some, but those seem really cheap. I didn’t want to make assumptions about your budget, but I did take those off the list, because you can do better than that–”

Tommy blinks. He’d made what was honestly a joke comment, and in the interim Evan apparently decided to study up and become a mattress expert on the possibility that Tommy was serious.

I’m going to fall in love with this man.

It’s a ludicrous time to come to that conclusion. Tommy’s at work, this call could end at any moment because of any number of emergencies, and Evan is rambling on about mattress companies. The thought still bubbles to the front of Tommy’s mind perfectly formed. There’s no agonizing over it, no hesitation. It’s the natural answer to a question Tommy hadn’t consciously been thinking about.

Of course.

Of course it’s Evan.

“You should come mattress shopping with me,” Tommy says, when Evan stops to catch his breath in the middle of an in-depth account of the pros and cons of memory foam versus non memory foam.

“It’s your mattress Tommy,” Evan sounds caught off guard, and looks mildly irritated that Tommy stopped him in the middle of his explanation.

“It is,” Tommy admits, and then because he doesn’t want make assumptions and repeat the same mistake he made a few months ago, he continues, “But I’m serious about you. About us. Maybe it’s a little soon, but I hope that I’ll be waking up with you a lot for the foreseeable future. You should have some input too.”

Evan goes comically still, his mouth half open. He puts the papers down onto the counter. A few flop out of his hands and slide off of the counter and onto the floor.

“Evan?” Tommy asks, equal parts concerned and nervous.

Shit.

Tommy should have waited to bring this up in person. Evan blinks several times, before turning on his heel and walking out of frame.  

“Evan?” Tommy repeats sharply, brain scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say. How to fix this, “You don’t have to.”

Evan pops back into the frame, hunched over as he picks up the paper that fell. Tommy’s breath gets caught in his throat. Evan straightens, fidgets with the papers in his hands, and then looks back at the camera. His cheeks are pink, he’s biting at his lower lip, and his dimples are out in full force.

Tommy relaxes.

“Just to be clear,” Evan starts slowly, and he looks almost giddy as he continues, “You want to go furniture shopping with me?”

“Yes,” Tommy says, grinning himself because Evan’s delight is always infectious, “You’ve done a lot research, it’d be a shame to waste it. I was just going to order one online.”

“Well, thank god I’m here to stop that from happening,” Evan says, his smile widening before he gets serious again and goes right back to business, “What’s your preference for firmness levels?”

I’m going to fall in love with this man.

“Firm?” Tommy offers, because he does know he’s not a fan of super soft mattresses, “But not too firm.”

Evan’s shirt rides up as he stretches across his counter to grab something off screen, before he returns with a pen and starts scribbling something on another piece of paper.

“Mine is medium firm,” Evan says. Of course he knows that.

“Yours is nice,” Tommy says, even though he honestly hasn’t thought much about it before. The best thing about sleeping in Evan’s bed is that it comes with Evan.

“So I’ll narrow down firm and medium firm models,” Evan says, “We can bounce on some mattresses and take it from there.”

“Your next shift starts tonight, right?” Tommy asks, visualizing his calendar to figure out when they can bounce.

“Yes,” Evan nods seriously, “You can pick me up after if you want? I’ll find a place I think will be good.”

“That’d be perfe–”

In the distance Lucy yells Tommy’s name.

“Gotta go,” Tommy says, “Bye Evan.”

“Bye Tommy,” Evan says, “I l–I’ll text you!” 

[chimckenns]

Any Ollie angst?

Baby was the oldest sibling, and that came with a lot of responsibility. As a result, they grew up as that one kid that the parents never have to worry about. They felt lonely when they never got the same attention and gentle guidance that their younger sister got, but they just accepted it as part of life.

It’s just what’s normal.

Ollie always thought they were put together, and that was part of their charm. Their kindness in taking over to teach him when he first started was what really made him fall head over heels for them. They had a lot of responsibility, but they juggled it so well, it was impressive.

It was only when Ollie started really getting to know them and when they started their relationship that he realised what was really happening.

Baby would take on multiple projects outside of their own expertise if someone asked them to. They’d spent countless nights on overtime, or if they came home early evening, they’d go straight back to work on their laptop.

Ollie made a point to try convince them to rest and go to sleep at a decent time, but they’d wave him off with a smile saying that they’re not tired. But he can see it in their eyes.

He brought it up as they were having breakfast one day.

“Baby, you don’t need to take on so much extra work. It’s wearing down on you, I can see it. Let me help.”

“Thank you love, but I’m ok, I promise. This workload is normal for me anyway. I’ll be fine.”

That’s what they’d always say.

Until a few days later when they collapsed.

Baby complained of a migraine that morning, and Ollie begged them to stay home but they’d wave refused. “Today’s the project deadline and I can’t miss it.”, they said. He went to their office on his lunch break to eat with them as always, but he found them on the floor with tears in their eyes.

Ollie scrambled to help them, looking them over to see what was wrong. They were clutching their stomach in pain, and their breathing was shallow. Ollie immediately took them to the nearby hospital, holding their hand the entire way.

That was the most terrifying moment of his life. His heart felt like it would drop to the depths of hell when he laid eyes on them in pain like that.

When they finally woke up, they were broken to hear that the project had been suspended and the clients weren’t happy. The weight on their shoulders crushed them, and they broke down in tears as Ollie gently patted their back.

“If I’m not what I can do, then what am I? So many people depend on me and… and I let them down.” Baby hid their face in his chest as they cried.

“I’m so tired, Ollie.”

[miss-soph-star]

Desire Unravelled (Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau)

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

Part 3 to First Impressions

Returning from a case, y/n, Emily, and JJ spend some quality time getting to know each other a little more in depth...

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

After hours of traveling, you all finally arrived back at the BAU to wrap up the case. Unloading your go bag from the plane, you followed Emily and JJ towards the tarmac were the SUV was parked for your short ride to the parking garage. “Hey honey, you jumping in with us?” Emily questioned looking back at you, your tired frame perking up at the suggestion. “Please, Spenser’s driving the boys back and I DO NOT want to be there when he gets behind the wheel!” You chuckled, JJ and Emily swiftly following suit. “Yeah I can see why.” JJ chided as Emily threw her bags into the boot. “Anyways your coming home with us later if you want. The offer still stands?” JJ eyed you as she jumped into the driver’s side. “Yeah I’d like that, would be nice to see where this goes, if that okay?” A grin crept on Emily’s face as she ushered you into the back of the SUV, following you before resting her hand on your thigh. “JJ and I would love for you to join us. How about we order in something to eat, watch a cheesy movie, and have a talk about us. Then well see where the night leads us.” Emily looked at you for reassurance, “That would be nice Em.” With that JJ was pulling into the BAU parking garage.

Heading upstairs to fill in the last of the paperwork, you could barely contain your excitement for the night ahead. You made to the meeting room and sat around the same round table next to JJ as earlier, as Emily wrapped up the case. “I just wanted to thank you all once again for wrapping up this case so fast and I wanted to congratulate y/n, our newest member on integrating with the team so well already! Congratulations on your first catch, your already an asset to this team.” Emily beamed at you as you squirmed awkwardly in your chair blushing as everyone’s attention centred on you. “Yeah its great of you to join us y/n, it’s nice to have a female version of Reid on the team to balance him out.” Derek chides. “Anyway, get yourself home, have some rest over the weekend and I will see you all on Monday morning.” Emily says wrapping up the meeting. As everyone was ushered out, Emily guided you both towards the car as she slips into the front this time, letting JJ sit by you in the back. “So, y/n what takeout do you fancy?” JJ asks, nudging your elbow, “Umm I don’t really mind, pizza or something easy?” JJ nods, “Okay no worries, I’ll order it now. Em what pizza do you want?” “We could get a pepperoni and another of y/n’s choice and share them” Emily suggests, “Great, y/n what would you like?” You awkwardly suggest, “I’m quite picky so maybe just a margarita if that’s okay?” JJ nods, “Of course! I definitely had you down as a margarita type of girl.” You chuckle, “I hope your not profiling the poor girl already JJ.” Emily chuckles, as a warm lull falls over the rest of the car journey to their brownstone.

Pulling onto the driveway, Emily put the car in park before getting out, JJ and you followed, grabbing your go bags before entering the house. Emily turned off the alarm system and greeted their cat, “Oh this is Sergio by the way. He’s the man of the house.” JJ chuckles as Emily rolls her eyes at the joke. “Well, he’s definitely the boss.” She chimes in as Sergio follows her through to their kitchen. “Takeout should be here soon. Can I get you anything to drink y/n?” Emily asks, rooting through her wine fridge. “We have red or rose, if you want wine?” You nod, “Red is fine Em.” You suggest hoping that option was approved. “Ah perfect I’ll open it now.” Emily says popping the cork from the bottle and pouring three glasses. “You had Em down as a red wine girl didn’t you, y/n?” JJ quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yeah may I do. Doesn’t take a profiler to work that out though.” You laugh with JJ as the doorbell rings. “Ooo that must be the pizza, I’ll get it.” JJ says sprinting towards the door, before returning to the living room where you have both arranged yourselves on the large L shaped couch as mean girls plays in the background. “So, y/n I think you know already, JJ and I are interested in you, is there anything you’d like to know about us further?” You almost choke on your pizza as Emily ever so casually broaches the subject. “Well, I don’t think I have may questions but I do what to see where this goes if I’m honest.” You answer genuinely, hoping your nerves don’t betray you. “We’d like that too y/n.” JJ looks up at your hopefully, as you see a glint in Emily’s eyes in your peripheral.

Soon enough the food and wine was forgotten, as the tension between the three of you increased. Subtle touches become rough and lingered, Emily’s hand crept up your thigh higher, and JJ rested on your shoulder deeper. Emily’s gaze on you was unbreaking as her lips tugged into a smile, you returned her gaze as the heat in your stomach rose. “Just kiss me already Em, please.” You whined out desperately as your lips parted in search of hers. Emily swiftly pulled you into a passionate, rough kiss, as you fought and quickly lost the battle for dominance. She pulled you onto her lap, straddling her as you allowed her tongue to roam your mouth. Soon you were both gasping for air, JJ ever the voyager, was simply flushed form just watching. Unable to contain her pent-up desire, JJ pulled your head back slightly with a tug of your hair, placing messy kisses and nips from your earlobe, down your neck as your heartbeat rapidly with desperation, Emily leaned in closer as she watched you both, her eyes dark with desire, she nipped your earlobe as you yelped, your attention torn between the beautiful women you caught yourself between and on top of, Emily whispered suggestively, “Next time, you’ll find out what else my tongue can do.” She pulled back winking, as she racked her nails down your thighs, leaving possessive red marks in her wake as you moaned. She bit her lip, “Our good girl, getting off on pain...such a whore for me y/n.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

Tag List: @olderwomenenthusiast @m-1234-5 @wands-natsthing

[artisiumstudios]

Separation at Birth- Ford

(Not the best sketches but oh well) imma go a bit more into depth, but ever since Ford could remember his father had been constantly complimenting his fingers saying they were a gift and something to be proud of. Ford, being a child obviously thought his father was being genuine, but in reality he was being manipulated.

Filbrick wanted to use Stanford as some sort of freakish attraction because of his six fingers, the whole reason he kept him and not “the normal” one aka Stanley. One day he stumbled upon this man who was selling amulets, ciphertology amulets, with abilities to see into the mind of others and take peeks into their possible futures, so of course he took one in hopes of finally making something with Ford.

Thus starting the Psycic Sixir, the kid who sees it all. Many paid 2 dollars an hour just to talk to the kid, not to mention they could sell merchandise like the Silixir, the magical potion meant to strengthen your brain, also known as watered down apple juice. Caryn wasn’t too keen on the idea but she didn’t argue. Until it started taking a toll on Ford, causing his hair to become white, exhausting him to the point where he would sleep almost all day, not to mention his growth was impacted and he was even malnourished despite eating all the time. It caused a lot of arguments between Fords parents.

Eventually he was allowed more breaks which was mostly him sleeping, reading, or walking around the beach, which lead him to an old rotting ship at 14, who he called The Grand Escape. He loved working on her thinking about how one day he might be able to escape his father and the name they had created for himself. Unfortunately at 15 he fell so ill that he had to be on a year long break , unable to really do anything he dove into his studies.

He finally started gaining weight, his height finally started increasing, he slept less ad overall he felt better. Of course his hair had to keep a few strands of white and he had to use a cane to walk long distances but overall he was feeling way better. Too bad he couldn’t say the same about the ship. She was falling apart and any hope of sailing away was slowly getting away, so he decided that college was his best next choice.

One promise to come back and a whole lot of studied and building finally landed him in west tech, a prestigious enough university that he could convince filbrick was worth stoping this whole Psychic Sixir and far enough from Jersey to finally be him.

I’ll add better sketches later, and Stanley’s part later but anyways hope yall enjoyed

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Vincent tending to Chidi’s wounds when a medical professional isn’t near (with Vincent surprisingly having good knowledge on wounds) has always been on my mind and I thought to share with you ^_^

Anyways here’s a crappy screenshot of them because aaaaaaaaaaaaaa Chidi looks so small😭

Thank you so much for this ask! This ended up being almost chapter-length and I may use snippets of it in Those Who Have Something to Live For later on, oops!!

Also, small hearts for small chidi: 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

-⚜- I Want to Be Next to You -⚜-

TW: gunshot wound, discussion of self-sacrifice

The first thing Chidi noticed was the red pouring out of Vincent’s shoulder. The second thing he noticed was how fast he was breathing.

He didn’t say anything, just staggered back against the wall with alarmingly wide eyes almost rolling back in his head - that look of unspeakable terror that Chidi had seen only a few times in his service with Vincent.

Chidi was across the balcony and in contact with Vincent almost instantly, gripping both arms to slow his fall and guide him to the ground. Their legs folded under them in unison, almost gracefully, like two swans landing on water. And they both felt they were drifting on something like water, suddenly floating above a terrible, murky depth. Their eyes were locked together, mirroring each other’s desperation. “C'est bon [It’s okay],” he whispered, low enough to reach only Vincent.

He didn’t respond at first. Then, as if without breathing, “Non, ce n'est pas le cas, ils putain… ils… [No it’s not, they fucking…they…]”

Chidi couldn’t contradict him. They had been ambushed. A particularly crucial client had insisted on meeting Vincent on “neutral ground,” without much backup, in a remote villa. As he had feared, it was merely a ruse to make an attempt on Vincent’s life. And Chidi hadn’t stopped it…they’d laid hands on Vincent, they’d put metal in him…

“Get a medic, and arrange evacuation,” he barked over his shoulder, without breaking eye contact with Vincent. Chidi was scary like this.

The ground around them was littered with bodies. Only two other guards survived – and the enemy was demolished. One of those guards hesitated. “What should I tell them about the deal, sir? And the ambush?”

“I don’t care! I’m going to stay with my ward! GO!” My ward. Vincent was the ward of all the bodyguards, but Chidi didn’t say our. No, at moments like this, it became clearer than ever that Vincent was his responsibility in a way that none of the other Myrmadons shared.

In another moment, they were alone.

“Chidi…” It wasn’t the beginning of a question, it was an inarticulate plea. Vincent’s head was lolling from one side to the other against the wall, in danger of knocking against it from how badly he was shaking.

“Je suis là. [I’m here.]” He lowered him the rest of the way down, not against the hard marble, but into his lap, elevating the wounded shoulder above the rest of his body. Overwhelmed by the mixture of shock and human contact, he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes for half a second before staring desperately up at Chidi again. It was a magnetic look, impossible to break away from. Help me, it was saying. Chidi obeyed.

“Je vais vous attacher un garrot maintenant, monsieur. Cela signifie que je vais attacher un morceau de tissu autour de votre épaule. Cela pourrait faire mal mais je vais essayer d’être rapide. [I’m going to tie you a tourniquet now, sir. This means I’m going to tie a piece of cloth around your shoulder. It might hurt but I’ll try to be quick.]” For once, he was the one chattering away, trying to fill the silence, to keep Vincent’s mind from running away with him. He kept his breathing as steady as he could, and his face expressionless. He had to be the rock right now, something to hold onto.

He took off his suitcoat and then ripped off his shirt sleeve from underneath, tying it around Vincent’s shoulder. As it squeezed the muscles around the wound, Vincent went even paler, panting in an effort not to scream. Even at a time like this, he didn’t want to look weak. It made Chidi’s heart twist. “Vous allez bien, monsieur. [You’re doing well, sir.]” He wasn’t. He was starting to hyperventilate, and it really concerned Chidi. “Peux-tu respirer avec moi, lentement ? De la même manière que je respire. [Can you breathe with me, slowly? The same way I’m breathing.]”

The Marquis struggled for a moment, staring at Chidi’s chest. He saw another wave of fear rise up behind Vincent’s eyes as he lost control. “Je – je ne peux pas – [I – I can’t – ]”

“Ce n'est pas grave alors. Continuez simplement d’essayer et concentrez-vous sur ma voix. Je vais faire pression sur toi pour arrêter le saignement maintenant, d'accord ? Et je continuerai à faire ça jusqu’à ce que l’aide arrive. [That’s okay then. Just keep trying and focus on my voice. I’m going to press on you to stop the bleeding now, okay? And I’ll keep doing that until help comes.]” Chidi did his best not to talk too fast, not to let the panic affect his voice. He felt like breaking down – seeing Vincent like this was too much. But he had to be reassuring for him.

“…d’accord… ça prend combien de temps? […okay…how long with that take?]”

“Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Pas longtemps. [I don’t know, sir. Not long.]” He lowered his hands over the wound and pressed down as hard as he could. Vincent made an awful, strangled sound. Even through the pressure, Chidi could feel how badly he was shivering. “Attendez, faisons ça aussi. [Wait, let’s do this too.]” He took his hands off the wound long enough to throw his coat over Vincent’s chest, and then pressed down again. Vincent snuggled involuntarily into the warmth, the shivering subsiding a little. After the initial pain of Chidi’s strength against his shoulder again, he relaxed into it. Then, following a long moment of hesitance, his hand rested on top of Chidi’s.

“Merci.” He stroked along Chidi’s hand just the way he would if they were just resting in bed together after making love.

“Bien sûr. [Of course.]”

His eyes were closed again and suddenly Chidi worried he might lose consciousness.

“Hé, pouvez-vous continuer à me regarder monsieur ? Reste éveillé s'il te plait. [Hey, can you keep looking at me sir? Stay awake please.]”

Vincent wrenched his eyelids open with what seemed a very great effort. “Parlez-moi alors. [Talk to me then.]” It was an order, but spoken so quietly, so vulnerably.

“D’accord.” Chidi thought for a moment. “Tu sais, j'ai appris la médecine de campagne pour toi. J'ai pris des cours le soir, pendant mon temps libre. Parce que si jamais tu étais bloqué comme ça, je voulais être sûr de pouvoir t'aider. [You know, I learned field medicine for you. I took lessons in the evenings, during my leisure time. Because if you were ever stranded like this, I wanted to make sure I could help you.]”

Vincent swallowed. “Je ne le savais pas. Je…te remercie. [I didn’t know that. I…thank you.]” His hand was stroking idly against Chidi’s, with deep affection, soothing both himself and his lover at once. He was getting into that zoned out space that he entered sometimes, when he was hurt or very sick. A space that forced his deeply defended heart to open a little.

“Ce n'était pas un problème, monsieur. Je suis content de l’avoir fait. [It was no trouble, sir. I’m glad I did.]”

“Je suis… je suis content que tu sois là. Peut-être… peut-être que je dramatise mais… [I’m…I’m glad you’re here. Maybe…maybe I’m being dramatic but…]” He went silent for a long time, so long that Chidi almost thought he was passing out. But he wasn’t. “Si je meurs, je veux qu'il soit à côté de toi. [If I die, I want it be next to you.]”

Chidi’s throat tightened. He looked away at the sunset, waves of pink and gold crashing down over jagged mountains. But it wasn’t half as beautiful as Vincent, so he looked back. “Si je meurs, je veux que ce soit pour vous, monsieur. Mais je préfère que nous vivions tous les deux. [If I die, I want it to be for you, sir. But I’d rather we both live.]”

Vincent didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did, it was in a rush, with his voice dropping quieter and quieter until Chidi could barely hear him.  “Je préfère ça aussi, ces jours-ci. Il y a quelques instants, quand on m'a tiré dessus, j'ai réalisé que… Pour une fois, je n'avais pas peur parce que j'étais seule, mais parce que je voulais continuer à vivre. Je veux être à côté de toi. [I’d rather that too, these days. A few moments ago, when I was shot, I realized that…For once, I wasn’t scared because I was alone, but because I want to keep living. I want to be next to you.]”

You will. You always will. “Je serai toujours à vos côtés, monsieur. [I will always be by your side, sir.]” Chidi wrapped himself around Vincent’s body, giving him all of his warmth, all of his presence, all of himself. For life.