#I mean there's obvious metaphors here

[razzafrazzle]

another character from die as lovers may, my funney vampire story... had this design bouncing around in my brain for years honestly

[image description: a reference image for an original character named dr. pranali guin, a fat, older dark-skinned woman that has black hair with a white streak pulled into an updo. she is wearing a tight white dress with a cropped black jacket and an orange ribbon around her neck. next to her are blurbs stating that she is 55, that her pronouns are she/her, that she is an aroace woman, and the following: "acclaimed sexologist who is rather humorless. incredibly suspicious of rowan, but isn't quite sure why. not as stern as she looks. has really bad eyesight, but refuses to wear glasses out of spite. loves melodramatic soap operas and keeps a journal detailing every plot point in them. probably autistic." end id]

[agentravensong]

Ros & Guil Being Victims of the Narrative Compilation

propaganda for @doomed-bythe-narrative's poll tournament

If you've never heard of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, it's a play from 1966 that follows two side characters from Shakespeare's Hamlet. Any other context I'll provide as we go. This post will spoil the whole play, so keep that in mind before reading further. TL;DR these guys are arguably the progenitors of being doomed by the narrative in our postmodern understanding of the concept, and, as much as it sounds like those orv guys deserve the title too, I want my boys to win. Please vote for them.

If you need more than that to be convinced... I'll oblige.

1.

Ros and Guil don't have any solid memories from before the start of the play, at best impressions of memories, because they only exist within the context of the present narrative. They don't get to have pasts because it's irrelevant. They don't even get to know which of them is which (and every other character treats them as interchangeable).

2.

The reason for Ros and Guil's presence in Hamlet is that they're supposed to figure out what's wrong with Hamlet on behalf of the king (because they apparently used to be his friends), but their efforts are unsuccessful. In this play, it's framed as an impossible request -- they get as close as they can get, despite not really understanding a word he says, but get tripped up at the thought there must be more to it than that -- because they were written to fail.

After Hamlet does a murder, their function in the narrative switches to being the ones to bring him to the king, and then to accompany the prince to England where (currently unknown to the two of them) he will be executed. Roles that, as Guil points out, could have been fulfilled by anyone:

The answer to that last question, is, of course, no. The reason it has to be them is because of how this sequence of events ends: with their deaths.

In short, Hamlet changes the letter with the King's declaration when the pair is sleeping so that they will be killed instead. In the context of Hamlet, this is a key moment for his character (it's his first use of the state violence that's his birthright, and it's a situation he could have gotten out of in plenty of other ways) and for how his bestie Horatio sees him.

But in the context of this show? For as far as Ros and Guil get to know? It is simply what has to happen.

3.

Ros and Guil have no agency over the events of the narrative. When they're not "on stage", they're left in limbo, at the mercy of the other characters' comings and goings.

They try to summon the other characters, because they don't know what to do with themselves otherwise, but nobody comes. Eventually, Ros gets frustrated with this, and then this happens:

When they're "on stage", everything sticks to the script. Even in this example, where Ros and Guil have failed to detain Hamlet and bring him before the King, the world adapts just enough to keep things on track:

They are at the whims of the narrative.

There's even a dig at how they can't get the ever-passive audience to meaningfully react to them:

They can't escape the bounds of the narrative, even if both of them wanted to.

Any chances they might have had to actually change the course of events come too late, when they're already convinced (arguably more as a coping method than anything else) that their choices don't matter in the shadow of what they've been caught up in.

That last snippet is the conclusion of a bit about how Ros doesn't believe in England because he can't conceptualize it as a place, can't conceptualize his and Guil's arrival there -- which is because it doesn't happen, because England is out of the scope of the narrative and thereby doesn't exist. They can't even imagine a different future for themselves.

4.

There's one other major character in the play: the leader of the traveling players (aka tragedians). He basically exists to prod at Ros and (especially) Guil and explain, in a manner that they can't quite grasp (or refuse to), how they're trapped in a tragedy -- and the cost the two of them will therefore have to pay. As he puts it, in this genre of narrative, "blood is compulsory".

5.

Rosencrantz has this whole monologue in parallel to Hamlet's "to be or not to be" soliloquy about being trapped in a box, which imo is a pretty clear metaphor for being a doomed character in a narrative and whether it'd be preferable to live that existence or to not be part of the narrative at all -- that is, to not exist, to have never been alive.

6.

Lastly, the ending. Ros and Guil are sent off with Hamlet on the boat to England. Pirates attack (yes, really, it's what happens in Hamlet too), and the prince escapes with them. Our pair discovers that the letter they were sent with now inexplicably calls for their heads (not knowing that Hamlet switched it).

Guil, at his wit's end, desperate to prove he has some influence, some agency, stabs the Player. But the man gets right back up.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern face their deaths.

And the worst part of it all?

The promise of "next time". They're in a time loop. Because that's how theater works. Every performance, following from the previous, is them living through these events again. The same exact events, as dictated by the narrative.

They don't remember, loop to loop. Not enough to make different choices. Not enough to say "no".

They won't learn. They won't improve. They won't save themselves/each other. They will do this forever.

And since that gets me basically to the image limit, that's where I'll stop. These bitches (affectionate) are the definition of doomed by the narrative, and it would make very happy if they could at least get past round 1 of the tournament, as stiff as the competition is.

As a closing bonus, take the ending of Act 2 (of 3) of the play, which just. Kills me every time.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

my honest urge to give each family some fucked up abstract sacred symbolism bc i was obsessed over this game when i was 15

[lees-leaves-leeks-and-leeches]

1

He was waiting for his tea to brew, as is his average morning toil

When his mother shared an anecdote

“If you watch the pot it will not boil”

And the young boy took down a mental note

While he went to pack his lamp and oil

Little did he know he should’ve just hung up his coat

And save himself the spoil

He left for the nearby blue river

Assured by his knowledge and armed with a quiver

To go and trial his new passion for life as a fisher

And he knew that he would miss her,

But really it’s best to consider

That he would be better off richer.

Far away from home, he found himself walking all alone

And up behind him sprang a putrid witch

Who tied him up and took him back home

Using her broom to scratch an itch

While she planned to devour his every bone

And throw all she didn’t want in a ditch.

The boy woke up, roped in a coil

Dangling in a cauldron filled with soup up to his throat

And as a stray vegetable came his way, he felt like a carrot in the soil

But then the witch came into view and she opened her mouth to gloat

Before she spoke he came up with a plan, one which was sure to foil.

“Try getting out of this one, boy!” she said, “I’m sure you’re such an oaf!”

He eyed the broth with confidence, remembering his mother’s words

Making sure to ignore all of the weird little herbs

Watching the pot threw away all of his concerns

But when the witch ate her dinner that night, among her plants and ferns,

The little boy’s blood and guts rotted amongst the worms

And she smiled as she recollected how she cut him up into thirds.

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; coriolanus needs to learn how to relax.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader. smut. 18+ content. minors do not interact! handjob (male receiving). swearing.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.3k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; head empty. no thoughts. just him.

coriolanus’ determination to achieve the plinth prize was palpable. the coveted prize, awarded annually to the top students at the academy, granting them money and essentially a free ride through the university, was all he had been focusing on. 

countless books lay strewn across his desk, balls of crumpled up paper scattered around the room, as he stood before it. leaning against the old wooden table as his arms firmly held him steady. it was a clear indication that coriolanus had been pushing himself, striving to make every word and every thought count. 

while it was something to admire, that didn’t stop the worry that had been seeping in. it wouldn’t have been obvious to most, but to you, someone who spent a lot of time with him, you could see the dark circles that had begun to encapsulate his eyes, the way his hair was slightly disarrayed, or the fact that he hadn’t even completely changed out of his academy uniform. only his bright red pants and blue shirt still firmly clad on his body. 

he doesn’t hear you come in, doesn’t hear the thud from you closing the door, or you dropping your bag on the chair in the corner of the room. too enthralled by his textbooks and whatever scribbled nonsense is written in them, that it’s not until you wrap your arms around him from the back that he finally takes notice of your presence. 

a smile spreads across his face as he places a hand atop of yours, “what are you doing here?” he asks, surprised but pleased to see you. 

you pull him closer, embracing the feeling of holding him in your arms after barely getting to see him that day. the smell of roses filling your senses as you drink him in, “tigris let me in, said you’ve been cooped up in here all afternoon. plus, i… missed you.”

“i really missed you too, my love, but i-”

“-have so much to do. i know,” you cut him off, finishing his sentence. the same sentence you had been getting for weeks now. “which is exactly why you are going to put away the books and spend some time with your girlfriend.” 

you can physically see the gears beginning to turn in his head, trying to think of a way to let you down gently. you didn’t take it to heart, you knew how important it was for him to win the plinth prize. you were the only one outside of his family that did. 

“you already know you’re going to get that prize, coryo,” you sigh, “nobody even comes close in comparison to how hard you’ve been working for it, but you’ve gotta stop spreading yourself so thin.”

“i know, but tigris and grandma’am-”

“-would agree with me, that you need a night off,” you press a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder, and pull him in even tighter. his head lulls back to lean against yours, blond curls falling into his face as a sigh leaves his lips. he knew you were right. “you’re always taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once.”

he turns to look at you now, eyes big and dewy, a mixture of surprise and understanding as he comprehends the hidden meaning behind your words. however, before he can utter a single word in response, your hands gently glides along his abdomen, gradually tracing its way down to were the band of his pants delicately meets his waist. his breath catches momentarily, captured by a flicker of anticipation, while his unwavering gaze remains fixed upon your own, unyielding and brimming with unspoken emotions. 

“you’ve been working so hard,” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost tauntingly, but he hears you all the same, “... let me help you relieve some of that tension.”

coriolanus swallows hard, falling into your hands, both physically and metaphorically, and he surrenders with a nod. it brought a smile to your face to see the hard exterior he put on crumble, become powerless, and just from your mere touch. 

his back stiffened as he leaned against you, watching as your hand roamed lower now, trailing down to where he was confined behind his pants. a shaky breath escapes him and he shifts on the balls of his feet, waiting with anticipation as you finally make contact with his now pulsing bulge. nothing separating you except for the thin material of his underwear. 

“y/n,” he sighs, your name falling from his lips so gracefully. 

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, pleased to see the effect you had on him. “shh, don’t think about it, you do enough of that as it is. just relax,” you push on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, as a bright flush spreads across it. 

you could feel him getting harder in your grasp, his breaths growing shorter and lower, eyes flailing closed with desperation. your hand runs circles around him, groping him where he needed you the most. it brought you pleasure just to hear the soft moans escaping him, watching him lose control to you. 

his chest rises and falls at a dramatic pace, his patience wearing thin, but that was all part of the fun. you wanted him needy, begging for you to touch him. 

“fuck, y/n,” he gasps, illiciting a stroke of excitement in you. 

deciding that he had enough of you teasing him, you waste no time delving into his underwear and releasing him from the constraints of his pants. an audible sigh of relief comes from coriolanus as you do so, his body shuddering slightly at the warmth of your hand finally making contact. 

he rests in your hand, his largely endowed member, all pretty and pink at the tip. you stroke him teasingly, rubbing the end with your finger to gather the pre-cum that had trickled out, using it to help you start stroking him. he shudders from the movement, struggling to stand still as you slowly pump your hand up and down his shaft. 

you remove your hand momentarily to collect some of your spit and when you hold him once more he shudders, struggling to stand still, and his hips begin to move involuntarily. if there was one thing coriolanus loved more than you pleasuring him, it was watching you pleasure him. 

tucking his chin against his chest, he watches as your hand works his length, pumping back and forth with ease. his hips jut forward, begging for more, until it all becomes to much and his hands lurch forward to grasp onto the table before him, just like they were when you walked in. 

“let it out for me, baby,” your voice is reassuring in his ear, sweet and soft, full of promise. 

hearing you speak to him in such a way pulls a moan from the back of his throat and he just about loses it. his body tightens at the same time, hips bucking himself into your hand faster as the coil in the pit of his stomach finally bends and breaks.

he clamps his teeth down on his lower lip to muffle his moans, trying to remain quiet so that no one else could hear what the two of you were up to. his knuckles turn white as he gently bangs his fist down on the desk, and it’s only seconds before your hand is warm with his cum. 

“fuck me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes clenching shut as his hips jut and dick twitches in your hand. 

“that’s my boy,” the comment pulls a small chuckle from coryo as you remove your hand, his white secretion now coating it, “though, it does seem like an awful waste. i guess it’s a good thing i’m not done with you yet.”

[puzzled-pegasus]

Here's some silly little metaphors that I think the dragon tribes would use

SkyWings

“Don’t count your clutch before they hatch.” (Don't plan too much too soon)

“Gold is better than silver, but silver is better than nothing.” (If you can't do it perfectly, still try your best. Most dragons forget the second part.)

“‘Sorry’ can't suck the fire back in.” (The damage is done and now you're dead to me.)

“You been eating too much burnt meat or something?” (Are you nuts?)

“Stop all this smoke and use your fire.” (Stop rambling and get to the point already; or stop complaining and do something)

“Doesn't know his tail from his wings.” (Stupid or clumsy)

“You fly like a depressed pigeon.” (Slow flier)

“There's no fire in a rainstorm.” (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work.)

“Nighttime is for the NightWings.” (What are you doing up? Go to sleep.)

SandWings

“She’s all rattle, and no strike.” (Like all bark no bite)

“A diamond in a pile of quartz.” (Like a needle in a haystack)

“You’re watering the cactus and ignoring the sapling.” (You’re focusing on the wrong thing; barking up the wrong tree)

“Everyone thinks the camel looks silly until the dry season comes.” (Don't listen to them, they don't know how unique and strong you are)

MudWings

“Crocodile tears.” (Fake crying in order to gain sympathy)

“You can only catch a trout if your mouth is open.” (Be open to new experiences)

“If the tree gives away too much, it ends up as a stump.” (Don't let people take advantage of your generosity)

SeaWings

“Happy as a clam in high water.” (Very happy)

“The flying fish feels like a fool when it sees an osprey.” (Don't compare yourself to others, run your own race.)

“Plenty of fish in the sea.” (Plenty more opportunities to come.)

“You’ve got ink in your eyes.” (You're blind to something important)

“Lobsters only die when they don't leave their shell.” (Keep yourself busy with new experiences and you'll life a long life)

NightWings

“Sleep is for the dead.” (Why waste your time sleeping when you could be productive)

“SeaWings know their fish and SandWings know their cactuses, but we NightWings know everything else.”(NightWing supremacy propaganda)

“Being nice to a deer never got one in my mouth.” (Other dragons don't matter, only your goals.)

“A prophecy always comes true.” (I told you so but more cryptic)

"You're counting the stars." (You're doing something tedious towards an unachievable goal)

RainWings

“Gray’s her favorite color.” (She's a huge bummer)

“A lemon is yellow on the outside, doesn't mean they're not sour.” (Referring to someone who is two faced or fake)

“I love honey, but I’d rather not get stung by the bees.” (I could do this, but it requires effort so I don't wanna)

“Nobody likes a rotten banana.” (Nobody likes a bummer/downer)

“Don't tie your tail in a knot” (don't get all upset)

“I have all my berries in a basket” (I have everything sorted out)

“You couldn't sneak up on a pineapple” (insult to one's camouflage skills, popular among children)

IceWings

“The seal who asks why the orca is chasing him is the first to get eaten.” (A favorite of parents telling their kids to shut up)

“Not the sharpest icicle on the roof” (kinda stupid or slow)

“Clear as polished ice” (i understand or see it very well)

“You're looking a little pink in the face” (you look sickly. IceWings can turn pink from eating too much krill; a symptom of malnutrition. This line can be applied to any illness.)

“Blue blood kills, red blood spills.” (Patriotic propaganda implying that IceWings win every fight

“The SkyWings toss their blue eyed hatchlings because they're worried they'll be as strong as an IceWing.” (More propaganda)

HiveWings

“Pretty is for the SilkWings.” (Vanity is stupid and impractical)

“If it buzzes like a bug and bites like a bug, it's a bug.” (Don't ignore the obvious)

“Clearsight works in mysterious ways.” (I don't know the answer to your question, now go away)

SilkWings

“It's not always good to know how the honey gets made.” (Don't stick your snout where it doesn't belong)

“She's got a couple of threads loose.” (Calling someone a little crazy, threads refers to weaving)

“The bee minds its flowers and the spider minds her silk, it's when they mix that bad things happen.” (Mind ya business)

LeafWings

“Flytraps only trap because the soil doesn't feed them.” (Dragons don't get angry out of nowhere)

“Looking like a leaf only hides you in the forest.” (Time and place)

“If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks.” (Be flexible)

“Even the corpse flower attracts the flies.” (Even someone who seems ugly to one dragon they can seem irresistible to another)

[iz-star]

Zayne: Hidden Motive - The hidden meaning behind these two images and other thoughts about this card.

Warnings: NSFW talk, personal interpretation about this card, some analysis (probably overanalyzing lol).

I've already mentioned this quickly over twitter, tho I have to admit that I hate to write down my thoughts over there cause it's already difficult for me to put my ideas in order, let alone writing them in threads (and not even in my native language, my brain can't do so much). So I'm going to try to explain this here better, especially cause I've seen a lot of people not so sure of what happened in this card, if what Zayne and MC did was straight up dry humping or if it was all just the movement of the chair without actually touching each other.

Of course, this card was wild just for the already suggestive (let alone, stimulating?) work of the camera when MC is on top of Zayne, but this game is not even rated +18 so they have to be careful about what they show. Sex isn't anything new to this game, however it all depends on the way it is portrayed and showcased. Most of the times, sex is always implied; there are spicy moments but it has never been anything overly explicit, most cases the sexy scenes are more like foreplay, what leads to actual intercourse/sex, the last part being left to the imagination. If they were going to be wild with this card, they had to be soft at portraying it, unironically. In order to do that, they had to resort to certain storytelling resources, in this case: the rocking chair, the leaf and the fabric over the couch.

The rocking chair's purpose I think it's quite obvious and it was to not to blatantly show MC and Zayne rocking against each other, it was like the perfect excuse to put them on such a situation without the characters doing it willingly, or so so cause it's already too much to know that MC is sitting on top of Zayne, however this is not new to the game, right? MC sitting on top of Zayne's lap is actually quite normal, she's done it several times; here they just had to give them an excuse to move and when Zayne pulled MC towars him, everything started. I seriously praise the masterminds behind this scene cause they literally gave us Zayne and MC starting to dry hump in front of our very eyes in a very subtle way.

Again, the camera direction is the most risky thing they had done to showcase a sexual act so far, and I'm not mentioning this to downplay any other sexy scenes from Zayne or the other LIs, it's simply bc the bouncing movement it's too explicit and induces quite strong sexual ideas related to it, to go further seemed to be impossible at this point, however it also looked like they wanted us to be sure of what was happening here somehow, that it wasn't only the rocking chair making us seeing things, so in order to confirm what our minds were thinking and it wasn't only the sound of Zayne's kisses filling the room, they resorted to metaphors: the leaf and the fabric over the couch.

Maybe this is my dirty mind speaking, but is so suggestive the way this image was showed right after Zayne asked MC "Do I look like I can work right now?" with all the movement of the camera going wild and he resuming to kiss/suck MC's neck. It literally started to rain in this very moment, and the drop running down the leaf seems to be a metaphor of MC's arousal. Yes, she was getting wet down there. For this one, I think that the reference is quite easy to understand and there's no need to explain more, except to say that I actually loved the subtle yet beautiful/elegant way to refer to her arousal.

But what about the fabric over the couch?

If the image of the leaf was a reference to MC, then this one is a reference of Zayne's own arousal. What this image has is a disheveled fabric that's hanging from the edge of the couch, so there's two things:

The couch → Zayne's thighs/legs (isn't it a common joke within the fandom that Zayne is MC's favorite chair due to all the times she sits on his lap, anyway?)

The fabric → Zayne's robe.

Did you notice that among the four LIs, it was Zayne's robe the only one with the loosest tie and both sides of his robe do not even cross? like this thing it's barely keeping together somehow.

Which is genuinely surprising coming from Zayne, the Zayne whose towel outfit has the safest tie, the Zayne whose workout outfit covers his body from head to toe, the same Zayne who has dressed five (or was it six?) layers of clothes in the past (Master of Fate), the same Zayne who is always wearing long coats and suits and literally the one who makes us feel like victorian man seeing a woman's ankles for the first time lol.

I definitely think they did this on purpose. Give him easier access? Hell yeah. What this image is intending to say is that he was already opening his robe down there, making the contact with MC's wetness closer? Maybe that's why after this, she told him not to be too intense? Hmm...

Now, this probably is my overanalysis, it's up to you if you choose to believe this or not. For some people, media is about what is explicitly told, but narrative resources say a lot most part of the time, it helps the writers to give the readers hints about certain foreshadowing or, in this case, to reference to certain things that are impossible to address due to censorship.

Personally, I loved this card so much, but at the same time, it leaves me with a sense of dread. Did you notice how emotional, bittersweet or even sad/nostalgic was Zayne's bgm during his kindle? I saw some people uploaded the recording of his kindle without the bgm just to appreciate the naughty sounds (no blame here cause I did too ngl ahaha), but it made me want to listen to the music alone and good lord, the music made me so emotional. After watching the kindle with the music on again, I realized of how emotional this moment becomes when the bgm is playing. It gives vibes of something so intense yet so fragile. Go listen and appreciate it alone, you'll see what I'm talking about:

I noticed that they used two new songs for these cards, one was this one and the other was used in Rafayel's kindle, for Xavier and Sylus' kindles, they used bgm that was previously used in other memories. It's also interesting that the art direction of Zayne and Rafayel's kindles has a bit of a somber mood to them, like even their scenarios make sure to use cold colors and emotional backgrounds, while Xavier and Sylus' use more warm and romantic colors, (tho at least Xaviers bgm music was also intense even if the song is not new).

I feel like the bgm wanted to give a sensual yet emotional feeling to most scenes (except Sylus' since this one was the most chill, which is normal considering that he's new), however, we can't deny that Zayne's song feels like something is about to break somehow, idk how to explain. Someone in the comments section of the video said that it was angsty and beautiful just like Zayne is...

I've been feeling like Zayne's latest cards have been really emotional an intense. In Snowy Serenity is Zayne the one who is in danger, in Hidden Motive, it's MC the one in danger and both cards showcase how far are they willing to get in order to secure each other's safety (and also how much they lie to each other about their own safety lol).

In Snowy Serenity, Zayne and MC get emotionally closer, in Hidden Motive they get physically closer and yet both cards have a bit of both themes too, emotional and physical intimacy on another level.

In Snowy Serenity, Zayne knew that he might not be back so he asked MC to see him off the airport and gave her a hug, even if he never said goodbye, and in Hidden Motive, he tells her that she's not allowed to leave him without saying goodbye. Then he tells her he'll like her as long as she's alive and well. We also have the Adventure above the clouds chapters where they talk about ther lifes in 50 years in the future and how they'll be together still relying on each other. In Dawnbreaker's anecdotes, MC gets to celebrate Zayne's birthday with him and tells him that from now on, she'll always celebrate his birthday with him.

It feels like they're starting to look into the future a little too much, like making promises too soon, it feels too perfect... as if something bad is about to happen and rob us from that bright future, you know?

Do you know who made promises before a tragedy?

I've been thinking about this since I finished Hidden Motive cause... my first thought was... Now what can top this? A lot of us got really surprised by Zayne's card cause the spice was unexpected and I think it's needless to say this, but even the kindle felt a bit different from what we are used to see normally, even some ppl said the kindle was a bit longer than normal. Why would they feed us so much good/emotional/intense content of Zayne lately? And how are they going to keep it up? My brain tells me that something sexual being released too soon after this might feel repetitive so in order to create a bigger impact after this they'll resort to angst. I don't think they'll make Zayne's bday event sad, however, they also announced that more main story branches are going to be added from September to December and Zayne's probably gonna be the first to return, since he was the first one to disappear from the main story.

I just can't help thinking about this, I have this bad feeling that I hope is just my stupid brain overthinking and that we will have happy sweet memories with Zayne from now on even tho the story seems to keep hinting that something bad is going to happen, ugh.

Anyway, sorry for my rant, I actually have a lot of thoughts about this card that I don't know if I'll get to write cause I've been really busy with work lately, however I wanted to at least get this out of my chest.

[asidian]

I nattered on about this a while back as an addendum to one of my other posts, but it got a little lost since it was a reblog, and the idea of it's stuck with me, so I wanted to come back to it again and expand on it a little.

One of the major themes of Dead Boy Detectives is that the good you do comes back around.

It surfaces and resurfaces throughout the series. The instances in the final episode are the most spelled out for the viewer, but there's one example that lives at the very heart of the show that isn't quite so obvious on first glance.

When Charles dies, Edwin is newly returned from hell. The show doesn't specify the timeline aside from that he escapes hell in the same year he meets Charles, 1989, but overcoming that much trauma within a year is a big ask any way you slice it. He's spent seventy years in survival mode. He's got to be a wreck, still.

At this point, he hasn't had time to develop any complicated leniency schemes to keep himself out of hell. Certainly their detective agency hasn't been formed yet. It comes later, in 1990.

For the entire rest of the series, Edwin has a least a partial ulterior motive for the good he does. He takes on cases and tries to make an impact for their clients at least in part so that he can build himself up such a shield of decency that if he ever gets dragged back to hell, he can try to plead his case. He's so ashamed of this that he doesn't admit it out loud until he's forced to by magic.

But when he meets Charles, none of that plan is in place yet. Here he hasn't taken the time to sit down and work out a plan at all. Here the agency doesn't even exist.

He sees this boy in the attic, beaten and freezing and huddling in a corner, and he comes to offer the only thing he thinks he can: light.

And when he realizes he can give more than that – when he realizes that Charles can see him, and what that means – he stays and gives more. Comfort, and kindness, and company, in the very darkest hour of all.

He takes one look at how battered Charles is, and he tells him, "I shan't hurt you."

And it is a big deal.

Arguably this one line is the very best thing he could have said to Charles in this situation, and Edwin, who struggles with people, who has spent seventy years in hell, who is still trying to sort through his own trauma, takes one look at this boy who has been beaten soon-to-be to death, and he knows that intuitively.

And to Charles? It must have meant everything. Charles has spent his entire life trying to be good enough. He smiles and struggles to please. He does the best he can for whoever he can, and for his entire life, it has never been enough. He's been hurt, over and over again, for failing to live up to his father's impossible standards or guess at his impossible rules. His so-called friends turned on him and murdered him for trying to keep them from hurting someone else.

He's on the verge of tears, alone in the dark, dying.

And then Edwin steps up carrying the metaphorical and literal light in the darkness, and one of the very first things he ever says is, "I shan't hurt you."

That's the baseline. That offer comes when Charles isn't putting on a show. He's not being brave, or strong, or charming. He's hiding in a corner, quietly freezing to death. But here comes this boy anyway, with a light in the darkness and a promise not to hurt him.

It's a moment of simple, honest kindness – of Edwin doing good because he sees someone and he wants to help.

And to Charles, it makes such an impact that he gives up his afterlife for this boy. He spends the next thirty years stepping in front of things that would do him harm. He keeps the lantern and brings it with him, when he comes to save Edwin from hell.

It's that very first moment of kindness, in the attic, that sets into motion the events that result in Edwin's rescue.

That one moment of genuine good, with no furtive selfish side intentions, comes back around to save him. He only knows Charles at all because he stopped to help. Charles only didn't pass on to his afterlife because Edwin was there for him.

And then, all those years later, Charles sets out like Orpheus down into hell to get his best mate back.

That good has come around again. That light in the darkness, literally and figuratively both, is there for him in his lowest moment because he offered it to someone else when they desperately needed it.

And that's beautiful.

[death---dealer]

I SO badly need a part 2 to Customary with Noa x reader 😭 pretty please!!!

I'M ON THE WAY DEARIE. I am so sorry it's so long but pls enjoy! Reblogs/Likes always appreciated. Maybe I make part three if anyone is interested! Thanks!

Title: Gone Hunting. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of blood, hunting game animals, animal mating. ) Words: 5.9K+ Pairing: Implied - Noa x Human! Reader. Summary: A week has subsided since you told Noa about the nature of romantic love. You wanted to avoid it, avoid him, but you had previously promised to go with him on a hunting trip. Was it a rouse for him to get you alone? READ THE SERIES HERE.

** Does Contain Mild Spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes.

-- -- --

It had been a week since your last in-depth conversation and you still found that you were unable to look him in the eye. Noa seemed to not notice, or maybe he did and just didn't care enough to do anything about it. After all, the seriousness of the conversation, the floating vibration that still cramped your fingertips when you thought about touching him, the hardness that found its way to your throat when you attempted any sort of conversation with him… It was disheartening to think, but you figured he just didn't care enough personally to pressure.

-- -- --

“Love doesn’t need to be understood,” You were talking to him in such a hushed tone of voice, something that wasn’t frequent with you and Noa turned his head to the side ever so slightly at the sound of it. Breathy, he would say it was… And very, very different from the self-assurance you often carried yourself with. Wavering around the corner of words as if you were unsure of what you were saying. You were avoiding eye contact again, Noa mused, half tempted to look over his shoulder at what you had locked your gaze on. Probably something off in the distance, a tree fluttering with the slight breeze that shuffled the fur on his body and the hair on your head. An Eagle maybe? Noa was consciously aware that his own feathery friend was sitting behind the two of you, unwavering in their loyalty to him. He wanted to be jealous of something you were looking at, but Noa found himself locked on to you, baited anticipation to hear that voice again, the way it was speaking to him. So soft, so gentle, so… so… Personal.

“Love just needs to be embraced.”

Noa had his hand up to sign but you had turned to the side already, shuffling as quietly as you could. Quiet, but it was deafening to Noa. Every fall of your foot, every breath you were taking deep into your lungs and releasing quickly, tucking your hair behind your ear, the mere friction of that… All sounds were beating down on him like the fists of another Ape. Had he… Done something wrong? Asked something wrong? It was now very obvious that you were done talking, pushed against the wall metaphorically and had nothing else to say to him.

He’d encountered this countless times in the few months that you had been here. But, your inability to go on and explain further left Noa understandably frustrated this time around. Not at you, never at you… He curled his fingers at his side and sat back on his legs, almost burning a hole into the back of your head with his eyes. You were now moving to get the horse you came on prepped for the small journey back to the village. Not that you needed to, it was just something to keep yourself occupied, away from the thought that he was perceiving your words in the way he wanted to. You left it vague enough to leave it up to interpretation, by all means.

Turning his head to the side, he looked at his Eagle and pressed a curled pointer finger to their beak. It was not too far of a trek back, you didn't need to adjust anything with the horse…But it was far enough away that you felt comfortable to talk to him openly. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t with others around, he figured that Echo’s arrogance would run wild and you would want to boast to the Apes about how things were. How things were better for Echo’s than Apes but you never did that. He also heard another concept about Echo’s and that was privacy. And out of all things, Noa knew that privacy in conversations was important. He never understood why; Apes were social creatures and most likely knew everything ( or close to everything ) about their neighbors without plight.

Maybe that was why Noa was so drawn to… He stopped his thought process there and shook his head. He was quick to rationalize. No, there was no reason to be drawn to any of this, but he didn't want it to stop. Noa was even quicker to give into selfish ideology. He was holding his hand out there in the deep dark, hoping to the highest heavens that your hand would reach his.

-- -- --

Tilting your head to the side, a deep sigh left your parted lips. That wasn’t like Noa, though… He wouldn’t adversely reach out to you unless you were willing to reach out first. That’s how it’s been since the beginning and that’s how it remained, you never wanted to change it because it made you feel wanted… Wanted by him…

Your legs felt like they were going to fall off and that derailed your train of previous melancholy. There was a nice river he knew about, about three clicks away and Noa used the excuse of going hunting to drag you with him. You didn't necessarily want to go, you feared being alone with him for prolonged periods of time but surprisingly… It was a pleasant enough ride there on the back of your loaned horse. You believed it to be Soona’s, and you were fortunate that she let you use it occasionally. Not much was spoken, a few phrases here and there spotted between actually talking and Noa signing at you one handed as he kept another hand on the reins of his horse.

The sun was high in the sky, almost midday you figured, peering up at it through the thick branches of the trees. There was a thick smell of condensation clinging to the leaves of said trees; it had rained the night before and deliciously drenched everything. Ironically though, as that thought escaped your brain, your mouth went slightly dry as you looked ahead, only a few feet away from the rider in front of you. He seemed to enjoy the wistful silence that fell around the two of you, his eyes shutting for a brief second as he enjoyed the sensation of the sun peaking through the trees, blotching his body. You noted that his fur seemingly changed color at that. From a dark brown to an almost honey brown. What you would have given in that moment to see him fully bathe in the sun.

Grasping the reins tightly, you beckoned your horse a bit faster. There was a subconscious desire to be near him despite what happened. Hell, you thought to yourself and let a small blush take over your cheeks, you’d have ridden on the back of his horse if he had asked you. Of course, if he turned to face you and noticed your expression, you had a quick response. It was chillier than most days, and that was the smoking gun. You’d blame it on the cold hitting your cheeks. Simple.

But, with yourself already tangled in the thoughts, you proceeded on. You imagined that idea… Sitting so close to him, your chest to his back, heart beating quicker than you cared to admit. Your face resting against his shoulder to look forward, almost the same perspective as Noa himself… You desperately found yourself clinging to that aspect. To see what he saw, to know what he knew, to… To feel what he felt. Now, as you had gotten closer, you could see the evident water droplets lining along his broad shoulders. He must have bumped into a low sitting tree, maybe a bush, that distributed its lovely rain water against him. You could smell in your vivid imagination, how he must smell… Deeply ingrained dirt under fingernails, the Earth below your feet, toes curling into the sand, the brisk whisk of a hazy morning standing in a field of wheat by yourself, the allotment of sun brushing against delicate skin… That prospect alone left you feeling incredibly heady.

‘Here,’ He signed quickly, simultaneously slipping off his horse as he communicated. You were jealous of his ability to multitask like that, it was never your forte. But, Noa must have been doing it his entire life. He was taught to do that, taught from those around him… Observation was a good thing, you learned that from him. You knew that he liked to fidget things in his hands, but he was seamlessly able to sign in between that and not lose track of what his hands were doing before. You swallowed softly, being snapped viciously out of your fantasy.

Giving him a slight nod, you intently watched as he rounded his own horse and glanced up at you with those soft green eyes. Your interest was raised surely, but it was haltered when you got a full glance at him. He had his usual garb on; the cross-body sack, a few empty walnut shells tied near his shoulder with twine that would tickle his cheek if he looked over that twine encasing what appeared to be a leather band, worn from frequent use. He had it just in case he found something of interest to take back to the village, the band on his arm, yellow and orange in nature with a soft accent of tan, with adjacent and colorfully complementing feathers to show his status. They were strikingly blue and vibrant against the brown fur on his bicep, tightening anytime he would move his arm.

The band alone caused you to pause. Noa was large, larger than you by far. Not necessarily taller than any other Ape, but broad and encapsulating, and you found your eyes following him if you were in the company of others. He was the leader, and that band on his arm was more than a slap in the face at times. You remembered in most Ape clans it would be considered a luxury that he was the one personally taking you to go hunt. From the throes of hierarchy itself it was a privilege.

Noa’s eyes momentarily caught the sunlight, appearing more gold around his pupil before shifting back to their regular green as he pushed himself up to stand bi-pedal. They were gorgeous, even without the light hitting them.

‘Been here many times, with Soona and Anaya.’ Noa smiled fondly at that, letting his eyes shift away from yours to take in his surroundings. Wishing to do the same, you found yourself staring at him a moment too long before catching on that you needed to dismount your horse, needed to get your things together from the sack on the back of your horse. There was an assortment of berry bushes to your side, some appearing much more ripe than others. Black berries were sorely abundant and your eyes traced the light shapes of them against the green leaves that they were almost camouflage in. It was just now the beginning of spring, it made sense that some were ready and some were not. But, by your powers of deduction, you gathered that you were not berry hunting. ‘Easy hunting for an Echo.’

His silent words made you feel a swell in your chest. He was being… You didn't dare say considerate, but that’s what it felt like. Perhaps, more accommodating than anything else. After all, you were just a human to him, and he had nothing to gain from being considerate, but had much to gain by gaining your trust so he was more accommodating by nature. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you rested your hands on the base of the horse's shoulders, giving a sharp breath in as you hiked your legs over the side. If you were paying any attention to your surroundings instead of intensely focusing on not slipping, on not looking like a fool, you would feel a set of burning eyes watching. Observing… Obsessing…

Noa tilted his head with a gruff sound, too deep in his throat for it to be caught by your ears from the distance he held himself. Specked, almost amber-like gaze caught hold of your hands, how dainty they appeared to be compared to his own, your legs, how agile you were being, surprising for an Echo, he chuffed to himself. You were usually not like this, not balanced. He had once seen you slip on ice, which replaying inside of his mind was mildly amusing. He didn't help you up that time, and simply watched as you stumbled, trying to sign in between your slips. You could have asked for help, but you didn't. He wondered why from time to time until you explained to him embarrassment. Then it made more sense.

And ever since, he tried to keep a more mindful eye on you, on your movements; Of course, to make sure you didn't fall. He heard that Echo’s were not durable, not strong like Apes and a fall in the wrong way could cause intense problems. That’s just what he told himself though. If he were being more transparent, which he was not being, he’d have to succumb to the act that he needed to keep you protected out of his selfishness.

“Need help?” He verbalized, your feet dangling for a split second before you finally landed on the ground. A grunt left your lips with the action, your knees burning ever so slightly as weight was put back on them. Brushing your fingers along the side of the horse to calm them, you glanced over your shoulder at Noa, triumphant enough to gloat that you didn't need any assistance. “Just like Ape.” His signing was languid as if he were truly unsure if he was okay to make a comment like that towards you.

You grinned to yourself as you turned back towards the horse, shuffling to the side to get to your bag which was easy enough. Trying to ignore that sufficient pride that hit you like a moving horse due to Noa’s simple words, you dallied for a second longer than you really needed to, painting your fingers along the rough sew of your bag. He was just trying to get you to feel comfortable, it was nothing more than that. I mean… You thought to yourself with a snide chuckle. Was… Was flirting even a concept he was familiar with? Surely, they had to have some sort of form. You knew that grooming had to be a heavy part, it was a personal and intimate detail that often got overlooked when human’s thought about Apes and their threshold to be incredibly social with each other. You had seen it first hand, along with those tender moments of foreheads touching one another. Brow to brow, usually hands on the heads to keep each other near as possible, eyes closing as two slowly became one and---

You tucked your shoulders into your bag, more aggressive than you needed to and allowed the added weight to anchor you as you twisted to follow whichever way Noa deemed worthy. You also knew that they were quite sarcastic when they wanted to be, and you found it endearing at times. Especially when it was Anaya. In your head, you had dubbed him as the sarcastic one, Soona as the caring one, Dar as the motherly one, and Noa… was just Noa. No immediate words came to your mind when you tried to think about it. Maybe that was a good thing! Maybe, what was happening, what had been said, was just a crush and you were finally trying to blow past it.

He was staying on his legs for you, not wanting to move onto all fours as his pace would be too fast. Another accommodation, not a consideration. There was his heavy spear splayed across his back, being held by the strap of his bag. It swayed with his movement. Subtle, his shoulders would move ever so slightly as he walked. Following suit, it felt like you were playing a game as you grasped your own spear from your horse. It was smaller than Noa’s but just as effective and hunched it over your shoulder, holding it loosely as you took pace to match his speed. Noa was only a meter or two in front of you, leading, but you wanted to be right by his side. He looked back at you and you found your feet coming to a small stop before picking back up, a silent agreement being made there at that moment. You wouldn’t use words. You would only sign as to not scare away any potential kills.

-- -- --

“I don’t understand,” You muttered to him, your shoulders fraught with confusion. Noa’s green eyes swept from his hands over to you and longed to have it reciprocated. There was nothing though, you were pretty focused on the kill. He was holding a small rabbit who had no idea their demise had come at the hands of the Ape in front of you. It was roughly tied at the feet, binding it so he could keep it stored properly for the ride back to the Village. It was ignorant bliss that the rabbit truly lived in and now it was gone. You were envious of that - the ignorant part. Swallowing softly, you shifted your gaze to the side and pretended to be amused by the fire. He had been studying you, trying to gauge what your words were going to be. Hard, mean? Assuming something you shouldn’t have? You liked to do that and Noa liked to prove you wrong just as much. But, without any eye contact, Noa could not read you. Could not see your face, and could not make any judgments towards you as you asked him, “You--- you hunt?”

Noa knew you knew the answer to that but he obliged it anyway, “Small prey. Rabbit, usually.”

Simple enough answer, and you left it at that. And deep down, Noa’s accusation was correct. You’ve eaten fish frequently enough with the Clan. And as the sun began setting and dinner time rose, you sat quietly perched between Anaya and Soona, both talking over each other about mindless chatter and watched Noa eating a fish, dissecting it almost like he were a scientist of some sort, navigating around the small bones with ease and some sickening form of elegance. He had caught eyes with you then, a piece of fish sliding between his lips as he chewed it tentatively. The beam of the firelight in front of you was able to mask the disappointed look on your face as you realized that he was only looking at you because he sat across from you. Nothing more. Looking away quickly, you put much focus on your own fish, roasted to a tender crisp. Suddenly, Noa’s eyes were watching your moves instead of sinking into your gaze.

The way your fingers swept along the length of the fish, the way you muttered under your breath trying to get a mouthful of fish instead of bone, you felt too self-conscious to eat. You sat it down on a leaf in front of you. Another set of eyes were on you and before you could open your mouth to say something to the Ape leader in front of you, Anaya was signing, asking if he could have your remaining fish. You said yes, hastily looking away from Anaya after the confirmation but Noa was not looking at you anymore, preoccupying himself in conversation with his mother.

That same night as everyone was preparing to return to their own nests, Noa had found you. If he was seeking, you often left yourself open like a book if he wanted to come see you. It was very rarely at night though, and you took it in. Eyes glazed from the sky above, littered with all its tiny self-sufficient lights, boasted tonight by the moonlight, into green eyes that were almost too dark for their own good. You could have sworn there was something mischievous there but-- You pinned it on it being almost pitch black, a trick of the eyes. Of course, his pupils were dilated, there was no denying yours weren’t as well but you weren’t sure if you could justify yours being from the lack of light. He was on all fours as he approached you, your hands setting down the soft pelt that you had dubbed your favorite to use in your make-shift nest.

Nothing to write home about, a tanglement of tightly sprung together branches, padded by a few animal pelts. Off to the side,and tucked away safely, were your clothes. Only enough sets to keep you going. Two pairs of pants, three shirts, some undergarments… You could hear Noa and Anaya in your head at that thought. The day you were caught washing your clothes in the river, the curiosity they both had at that as Noa observed you wringing out the cloth between your hands. ‘Echo weird.’ Anaya signed to Noa as they let you be, turning to go down the river and fish. If you were observant enough, you’d have seen Noa turn back towards you, only for a split second before deciding to leave you to your duty. Which, Noa still didn't understand.

It was enough of a bed that it was comfortable and didn't leave you feeling like a wilted flower the next day. You wondered for a brief time what Noa’s must have been like and felt your shoulders dip in. You were ashamed of how yours must have looked compared to what was the norm. Was Noa’s nest comfortable? Was it warm? Could he look out and see the sky when he wanted to? You knew vaguely that his nest was perched above the rest, a right of passage that was torn between his mother and himself at the moment of his fathers death, at least until he found a mate and then it would ultimately become just theirs. You didn't even realize you were clenching your fists so tightly that your knuckles were turning mildly white.

“You want to go?” He asked, not putting in any context. He must have realized that, picking the conversation apart from earlier, before dinner. “Hunting with me.” He gestured towards himself with a hand in the natural form of a ‘C’. It pressed against his chest gently. He was gesturing to himself which made sense as he continued, “Usually go with Anaya and Soona but can take you alone. The season change, rabbits are more---”

He was murmuring which came to a slow stop, deep in his chest, it faded to the sound of an animalistic growl when you finally turned fully towards him. He was coming up with some way to get you to go with him, to be alone with him, you hadn’t given him barely the light of day since your conversation only a few days ago. Some pathetic attempt it was, Noa shouted in his head and dipped his head when you looked away from him. You knew how to hunt--- You wondered if Noa knew that. There were many times, especially recently as you had gotten disconnected from your fellow group of Humans, that you were forced to hunt. It was needed but not really your favorite thing. You learned quickly though with the Apes that often Females were left to forage for berries, vegetables, seeds and roots and Males were left to hunt actual game. Fishing was done communally, including the young as it was often their introduction to the world and concepts of hunting.

‘I’d just be in the way.’ You signed to him quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up with your tone. Noa huffed at that and tilted his head upwards towards you again. He was still on all fours, it looked like an almost defensive position like he wasn’t opening up to you completely. Bringing you bottom lip in, Noa once again as he so often enjoyed doing, watched. You nibbled once, then again this time harder than before. ‘Not very good.’

‘Better than Anaya, got scared of butterflies once.’ Noa joked, shifting towards you slightly. He looked at the pelt you had so delicately placed in front of you and for less than a split second, he lost control. Pull you towards him, push you down on that pelt and absolutely---

‘Maybe,’ You finally caved, snapping Noa back into reality with your hand moving. Hard. He kept himself grounded, hands resting roughly into the dirt below him. ‘When?’

He had just been hunting today. There was no logical way for him to explain that he wanted to go again to anyone around him. ‘Few days from now.’ He signed slowly.

-- -- --

A few days ended up being closer to eight, and you were left stuck. You had already promised to go hunting, but then the dreaded conversation seven days ago left you dispelled and not as eager to go. Crouched rather uncomfortably next to Noa, you watched him idly tie a knot around his spear. You could tell it got much use and that it was his favorite, though there were many other weapons the Clan could provide. As if he were controlled by another, he raised his arm without looking up. The eagle appeared without a sound, looking at Noa with small beady eyes that you couldn’t read anything from. But, from his reaction as he nodded to himself, raising his arm once again to dispatch his eagle brethren, he must have gotten information. It never ceased to cause you amazement that he was able to do that.

‘Close.’ He signed, drawing you back out of your almost hypnotic state. ‘Den nearby. Finished mating season,’ Noa didn't look at you with that sign, but it was different than his usual language. He was mildly stiff, shoulders drawing in together. You dared to say it was rigid, like he was unsure that it was the phrase he wanted to use. ‘Now many rabbits.’

Lips parting at that, you moved your feet to sort them away from turning numb. The crouching position was more comfortable for Noa, you decided. His spine was curved to sit like this for more extended periods of time, eyes gently grazing over his posture at that moment. He was surely comfortable as could be, shoulders hunching inwards ever so gently. There was a meager temptation from your part to move so you could be face to face with him but you doubted that he wanted that. You were fine next to him, you reassured yourself and swallowed hard. It was a sound that Noa noticed but didn't turn his attention to. Unwanted attention on you, in the past, has caused you to only run or flee from him. He figured he’d bid his time, patiently waiting for you. Your knees felt like they were on fire, calves were absolutely going to cause problems for you tomorrow. from sitting in the squat position for too long. You only lingered on that for a second though as his words finally hit you. ‘Babies?’

‘No,’ He was quick to respond, somehow knowing that his answer was going to calm you down. ‘Mature now, born few months ago. Fast development. Best age to hunt for them. Good meat.’

You nodded and processed what he was telling you. He was incredibly knowledgeable about this, showing off his skills at hunting with just words. How else would he know these things without actively doing it on a habitual basis? You swelled at that thought. That Noa was indeed a provider, a show off at times, but a provider none-the-less. Whomever he ended up with was going to be lucky to have that unwavering dedication which spurred your next inquiry. ‘Mate for life?’

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him when you signed that. Last time the conversation about mating happened, you ended up not speaking to each other for seven days. He was piqued in it regardless. Were you asking just to converse with him, or did you truly not know the answer? Either way, he considered himself invested and shut his eyes in thought. Tilting his head to the side, he sat his spear in front of him quietly, only cluttering as it shifted against the rock you two were perched on. You were just making a light conversation piece, Noa decided and he wanted to provide an honest answer.

‘No, many partners over time.’ He was using both hands to sign before he dropped his green orbs to rest on you. Not just on you, but it felt like he was crawling inside of your skin with his next set of words. ‘Not like Ape or Echo.’ Obviously, he meant it in the broadened terms. All Apes and all Echo’s. Not just the two of you. Shaking that idea out of your head, you nodded your head in understanding.

‘Mating is fast for them,’ Noa went on, just desperate at this point to continue on the path of conversing. He knew it was making you nervous, he could hear your heart beating, he could smell the sweat build up on your forehead, on your palms. One part of him deceivingly liked it, the knowledge that he could get you like this, but then there was the other oblivious side of him that didn't counteract his thoughts and he found himself continuing. ‘Have seen it. Only seconds. Female…’ Noa only spared you a slight glance.

Just as quickly as his eyes met yours, they were gone and he was looking out into the dense forest. Not at anything in particular, but he was surely searching. If you didn't know Noa already, know the nature of his personality, you would almost wager that he finally picked up on the validity of the conversation and he was turning back into his usually reserved self. This was not a topic he’d have chosen to talk about with you. The mating rituals of a… rabbit. He couldn’t stop himself though. He wanted this, wanted you to know this. Maybe if he kept going, you’d ask another question and he’d give you another answer. It was rare when the conversations took a turn and Noa got to tell you about his own knowledge, he thoroughly enjoyed listening to you. But… This moment you found yourself in, you were carefully processing what he was telling you like you life depended on it. Like… You depended on him.

‘Female will sit and take it. Many times to ensure conception.’ You nodded again and felt a tingle run down your spine. You attributed it to being crouched still. ‘Male will fall off after. Anaya thinks from being tired.’

Biting your tongue to keep yourself from snorting, you found it comfortable enough to joke around a bit, ‘Male humans are the same way. One, two maybe three good thrusts then,’ You paused and weren’t sure how to conclude. ‘We don’t mate for life anymore.’

‘For what then?’

It was a legitimate question and it left you wondering if Noa would understand the reason, if he would be accepting of the reason. As a whole, he was still incredibly on the fence about humans and you knew that. You were careful in your answers when he wanted to know something, a meager fear that saying something too outlandish would cause him to go quiet without understanding the human element and he never pressed your answers when they were not something he wanted to hear. He’d sit, reflect and come back if he had any remaining questions. He deserved your honesty though, he would brashly give you the same without any hesitation. You sighed and flexed your back, trying to figure out a delicate way to put your answer.

‘Pleasure?’ Noa’s fingers moved fast. Your mouth popped open at his absolute audacity. You had to remind yourself that he had no clue that this was a very deeply private thing to talk about. You had explained to him privacy here and there, and while he accommodated it in most aspects like giving you your own small nest, giving you space to bathe, giving you space with him to talk, there were just some things that pushed the boundaries of what you wanted to tell him. And surely sex, mating like that, like he was implying, was pushing that and you were right up against it. Noa must have recognized that he fumbled asking you that, or at least, phrasing it so… so primally. He raised his hand to sign an apology, but you were faster than him.

‘Hardly,’ You signed that hastily, hands now resting on your kneecaps. You rubbed there, almost relishing in the way it felt. ‘Not many can have children. We do it out of survival.’

Noa’s face dropped at that, eyes flicking between the side of your face and your body language, trying to read the expression you had but he was having a hard time. Has he… Has he seen you make this face before? He racked his brain but nothing came immediately to mind. You looked like someone just told you terrible news. Your face was long with something Noa didn't understand. Your eyes were hooded, looking at the ground. Pressing your arms around your body, Noa recognized that as a defensive tactic. He pushed it. Foolishly. You weren’t going to talk to him anymore about it, about how it was for you before he found you, if you had… Had ever mated.

But, maybe that was for the best! Quash it before he knew the answer, before his curiosity got the best of him. It was for the best, he kept repeating inside of his head, that he didn't know. That you didn't tell him someone else laid claim to you already. Running his teeth along his sharp canines, Noa turned with thought. He had done it without care. Asking you such a stupid, pointless, meaningless question as if he himself knew pleasure like that. He didn't even know what he was talking about when he asked! He didn't…Even…. Know… Would he ever? He had to wonder. Know what he was talking about, the implications of what he suggested?

His stare rested on you, the side of your face as you were trying to process everything that just transpired. You were avoiding eye contact, a tell-tale sign to the Ape that you were done chatting. A soft breeze hit the air around you, Noa diving almost face first into the smell that wafted off you, the bouncing of the small baby hairs on the top of your head, not as long as the rest but trying to get there and the picking of your fingers at the fabric that had bunched around your knees. It was asinine to think that he would ever know with you. And he was even more so to think about asking let alone actually doing it.

What was he expecting? An answer? You so flatteringly telling him you had never been with anyone, that you opened your arms to him to lay claim? An Ape of all creatures. He chuffed at that and broadened his shoulders. But, the thought of you with another, any other, made him feel a surge of aggression, resting too uncomfortably at the back of his head like he had been crouching his head down to look at something for too long. Quicker than lightning, Noa bared his teeth and picked up his spear. With a free hand, he gave you only one command.

‘Let’s go hunting.’

[incesthemes]

in provenance, the impala is depicted as quite dirty and beat-up, scuffed up and covered in mud. this is not the typical image that comes to mind when you say a man loves his car. in later seasons too, the impala tends to look shiny and new, and dean is seen performing maintenance on it pretty regularly—at least, there are many scenes that show dean taking care of it, and there are also many scenes which touch on dean's possessiveness and care for his car.

this isn't the case in season 1. season 1 dean has a beat-up hand-me-down from his dad which he loves and admires but is still willing to let it get dirty and dented and scuffed.

in season 1, the impala represents john.

based on how john talks about the car in dead man's blood, he still has a semblance of ownership over it: john gave dean the car, but he still considers it "his" in the sense that he feels entitled to judge how dean cares for it. dean, too, doesn't argue with this. in season 3, dream dean even uses this against real dean to drag out his insecurities and his abysmal self-esteem:

both john and dean agree that the impala is john's car. this makes sense because the impala is also sam and dean's literal home, or the closest to home they've ever gotten.

you have a good "home is where the heart is" kind of connection here: the impala is home, and john is the impala—john is home, john is their father, john is the thing that connects sam and dean by blood. et cetera et cetera.

so if the impala represents john, then how dean treats the impala gives the audience a lovely visual metaphor for how dean feels about john. provenance is just one episode after something wicked, where dean is finally starting to extricate himself from his father. the entire season has followed dean as he experiences betrayal after betrayal from his father, and in shadow we see evidence that he doesn't actually believe that his father will come to protect them anymore—he's effectively given up on john as someone to rely on, and he's spent the whole season separating himself from john and attaching himself to sam instead. provenance gives a nice wink and nod at this by showing the state of the impala—dean is upset with john, their relationship is crumbling, and dean doesn't know how to repair it.

one episode later john remarks on the state of the car, and one episode later dean finally defies his father for seemingly the first time.

so when dean starts destroying the impala in everybody loves a clown, what dean is actually destroying is john.

he feels angry, upset, hurt, betrayed all over again. john is dead, and his final words to his son gave him an impossible task. dean takes the crowbar to the impala right after sam corners him into another conversation about john—this is an outpouring of his emotions about him, all concentrated on the last remaining symbol of his father.

but what i think is interesting is that sam doesn't see the impala this way.

sam sees the impala as dean. the symbolism here is very, very obvious. if sam gives up on the impala, then he's metaphorically giving up on dean. and sam refuses to let dean die, so he can't let the impala die, either. to sam, the impala is dean. which necessarily means that to sam, dean is his home, as well.

which is exactly what he just chose in the season 1 finale when he picked dean over his revenge. sam spent the entire season scared to "go home," and in devil's trap he finally returns for good to his home—to dean.

and in bloodlust, the impala is fixed, and she's shining like new. from this moment on, dean shows a rather pointed possessiveness over his car.

this is also the first time dean calls the impala "baby." this is the first thing that happens after dean destroyed it in the episode prior. the dissonance gives a sense of rebirth: something happened between dean destroying the impala and dean fixing it. something happened between dean using the impala as a stand-in for his father and dean calling it his baby.

in season 2, the impala no longer represents john. john is dead, and dean killed him. "home" is no longer centered around john; their father is no longer the thing that connects sam and dean. in devil's trap they chose each other, they chose codependency, they created a relationship between them that transcends the family structure they inherited from john. john is not part of this new relationship—it's just sam and dean now, and john is dead.

dean assimilates to sam's perspective when he rebuilds the impala: his car is now an extension of himself, and he is the home that sam chose. this is now his car, not john's; he is now sam's family, not john. and throughout the first half of season 2 dean struggles with this new responsibility and what that means for him—how their codependency should work, whether or not he should try to fill john's shoes, what "home" is supposed to look like for them without john in it.

i think it's an interesting way to depict dean's emotional shift across this stretch of episodes. seasons 1 and 2 especially do a lot of great work to depict john even in his physical absence, from allegorical substitutes to his haunting presence to this, representing him through the symbol of their literal home. noticing this makes me much more emotional about the impala's role in the story, because it's a physical manifestation of the effort dean put in to become sam's home and commit to their codependent relationship. he loves his car because it's his home, and his home is where sam and dean's hearts are.

[beanytuesday]

Hey, I love your art -- I was wondering if you ever posted your illustration for Kafka's "A Hunger Artist" on here? It's really evocative and gorgeously framed, and I find myself thinking of it frequently!!

Thank you for the kind words. A Hunger Artist by Franz Kafka is one of my favorite short stories of all time, and it’s a very quick read. You can read it right here:

https://www.kafka-online.info/a-hunger-artist.html

Go ahead, I’ll wait here.

I’d like to take us opportunity to talk a little bit about the story, if I may.

Although there are a couple different interpretations of the story's meaning, it unambiguously read to me as an allegory for the plight of the creative, likely drawing from Kafka’s own experience. The ‘starving artist’ comparison is obvious, but there’s much more to it than that. In a departure from most other depictions in media, the plight of the artist is not depicted as something noble or redemptive, but as a sort of self-destructive madness. The hunger artist dies alone and in obscurity, his impact on the world ultimately being completely marginal and insubstantial. When questioned about why he chose a life like this, he reveals that he doesn’t even enjoy fasting, he simply couldn’t find any food he liked. That is to say, a true creative does not select this kind of self destructive lifestyle because they enjoy it; rather, it is because they cannot possibly bear to do anything else. Kafka himself, It should be mentioned, supposedly despised pretty much every job he ever had.

As some of you may know, I developed severe tendinitis a couple months ago. Mentally, September was probably the worst months of my entire life. I reflected on this story a lot –I had wrought my own self destruction, and for what? A couple of bucks? A few comics that i’ll become embarrassed of in a year’s time anyway? Unsure about my prospects for recovery, I became incredibly depressed.

But having been starved of the ability to write or draw, I had a genuine epiphany. Standing at the corner of Boston liquors in Allston, I resolved that I would muster the strength to endure this, regardless of how long it took, because what awaited me at the end was nothing short of the greatest prize a person could ask for: That very thing derided by Kafka –the life of an artist.

There is no greater pleasure than making art. I mean that genuinely, I mean that literally. No, it isn’t noble, no, it isn’t redemptive, but in a totally hedonistic and self-serving way it is simply the greatest thing that life can offer, ambrosia in the mouth, better than sex, better than drugs, better than anything that money can buy, and I feel pity for anyone unable to experience it. I am not being hyperbolic, I am not being metaphorical. I am stating this in the plainest of terms, having lived a life without it for the last couple of months.

So although my personal relationship to the story has changed in the past couple months, Kafka was right about one thing; nothing else tastes good, at least not by comparison. We must imagine the hunger artist happy.

[icarusredwings]

Putting Wade through it again cause I said so

Accurate representation->

Thinking about how Wade just... dies..

And I mean this in the most sweetest way possible- It's fucking terrifying.

Imagine your husband just has these episodes of "ded" -ness that causes him to silently have heart palpitations and collapses cassully by laying down somewhere himself so he dosn't bust his head open by falling when the time finally comes.

Most times, Logan can smell it. That encroaching scent of death and failure in his organ. But there's nothing he can do about it. Nothing at all.

So when he comes to find Wade already laid out on the floor, he asks him whats wrong, what can he do to help, but Wade just keeps smiling at him and giggling, caressing his face and tells him he's just sleepy. "You're so cute when you're worried.." He mumbles nonsense and then just.. passes out. But not the aggressive type, no.

It's almost sweet how camly he's taken.

Like someone coming home to their lover, crawling into their arms for a bit and just.. resting.. falling into a deep sleep

Sometimes, before he lays down, he mentions his head hurting. Mentions how his body is hot and he feels heavy. Like the weight of the earth was dragging him down to lay in those fresh fields of green, waiting to be taken by the decomposers and candid scavengers. (What? He could be poetic sometimes)

Internally, Logan is panicking. He's at his side, sniffing Wade and grunting cause for a split moment, he had died. His heart stopped. His brain activity still going but his vital organ did not. It freaks him out to this day, especially if they were not in battle or was an obvious explanation for the need to go into a mini coma.

This, of course, is an exaggeration, seeing as in reality Wade simply lays here, breaths so shallow that only Logan can hear them. Any other person on earth would think Wade has stopped breathing, called an ambulance and told them that he was dead.

Though this is untrue. Because Wade was not dead, simply on the brink, arguing with the archangel in charge of Heaven's gates to let him in. Metaphorically, of course, because realistically, Wade would never want to go to Heaven. Does it look like his friends and family would be there? No.

In truth, Wade's little visits with Death herself lasted on average for 30 minutes, to 2 hours, and sometimes extending to 4.

The only shitty thing about this is that Wade would wake up feeling worse at first. Waking in a hot feverish sweat as if too many blankets were on him during summer. His head would hurt. His body would feel like lead, dragging and stiff.

Sometimes, during his deep slumbers, someone would try to wake him, but he'd feel otherwise very... well.. unconscious. At times yes he may roll over or grumble something about how ceos who dont care about peoples pain in a company made to ease it deserve to be shot. "Free my boy Luigi, Mario needs him." He'd mutter this like a mad man then pass out on his face, again dying, hesrt clentching with distress before starting up again.

"What??" Logan would ask and stick by him like a loyal dog at a mans death bed. Sometimes, he would get him a pillow. Sometimes, he'd hold him, cuddling him close in hopes he didn't die on him permanently.

It was probably his one and only fear. He's had plenty of lovers die on him. Plenty who were not Wade though. Wade was bassically immortal, as was he. He wouldn't be suprised if Wade lived longer then him actually, but he feels a tight pain in his heart when he thinks about Hope taking him from him without even a kiss goodbye. Or even a "See ya later, Alligator." Just... gone..

When Wade does wake up, he feels wonderful once the initial pains of being revived are over, once the drowsyness is gone and his head is clear. His body hurt less, he felt well rested, and he very much enjoyed waking up to Logan next to him, worrying over him.

With a light, half full lunged gasp, he lifts his head up, groaning. "Shit... ow... did I hit my head?"

"Wade! Uhm.. no.. a-Are you okay? You were out for a while."

"I'm good just.. gimme a second.." as he sits up, cracking his joints and streaching with a large yawn. "Haahh- anyway. What are you thinkin' for dinner?"

"What??"

"Im kinda hungry."

"..You just... Wade you were just dead for 4 hours. I even shook you and you didnt wake up."

"Yeah well.. what can you do about it? Im thinking spaghetti. Oooh or maybe that rabbit stew you made?"

Logan blinks, watching as he cassually gets up, walking to the kitchen and peeked inside the fridge. How did he... why did he...

At the end of the day Logan just has to sigh and roll with it. Because honestly, what was he too do about it? Perhaps this was a side effect of his mutation... or cancer. Yeah.. Cancer seemed like a reasonable examination..

The worst part is, Wade barely remembers what happens before it hits at all. Or during. He doesn't remember saying anything. Dosn't remember laying down in the first place, and Dosn't remember being held.

[erule]

Twice

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!reader

Summary: you and Peter have been rivals for a lot of time, until one day everything changes. But it’s the same old story: you love him, he loves you, then you die and he doesn’t have the chance confess his endless love for you. Or is it?

Warnings: spoilers from Avengers: Endgame, reader is Tony’s daughter, Peter and reader are 18+ here, fluff, a lot of angst, enemies to friends to lovers, happy ending though

Word count: 2084

A/N: Hi! I just wanted to write something after a long time. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think in the comments, if you want 

Taglist: @imawhoreforyou, @blankspaceblankday, @sarahcameronswife, @belovedholland.

Main Materlist: here.

Twice.

I believe that things in life happen twice, like getting a job offer or falling in love. For instance, I fell in love twice. The first one was in high school, with my classmate, but he didn’t want me. The second one was with Peter, but he didn’t want me either. I guess that some things never change. Sometimes, if you’re very lucky, things can also happen thrice, but it’s rare that some trains pass in front of you. This kind of fortune never really occurred to me, that’s why I still think that things in life happen twice. When you don’t understand the occasion, it comes along again for you to see it and finally take it. Maybe that’s why I died twice.

But let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?

Did it never happen to you to die in a metaphorical way? Like when you feel a pain in your heart that doesn’t go away, a deaf heavy brick onto your chest. So you try to breathe, but every rib hurts when you try to do so. Well, this happened to me when Peter told me that he kissed MJ. I was his best friend, I should have been happy for him, but I couldn’t. The reason is obvious: I was in love with him. Common, right? You’re probably thinking that. Our friendship didn’t begin like that, though. We were rivals at first, even enemies sometimes, because my dad preferred to work with him and not with me. I mean, I had Morgan, my younger sister, but it wasn’t enough for me. I needed him to actually see me. Now I regret it. Anyway, before we grew closer, I couldn’t stand Peter and he couldn’t stand me. We used to bicker all the time, until one night. One single night. 

“Hi”, I said.

It changed my entire life.

“Hey”.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just hungry”, he replied, while looking into the fridge.

“Wanna know a secret?” I asked him. He turned in order to look at me. There was a spark of genuine curiosity in his gaze, but I was staring at his half smile on his face, a ghost of something that he didn’t use with me.

“Shoot”.

“The best food is not in the kitchen,” I replied. “It’s actually in my room”.

He grinned at me.

“Wow Y/N, I didn’t know you were this naughty. I thought you hated me. Turns out you just wanted something from me”.

I laughed out loud.

“You’re mistaken, Spidey. I just wanted to be kind, but turns out you’re a jerk. Goodnight, I’m gonna eat my marshmallows alone”.

“Wait, are you for real? True marshmallows? I’m coming,” he said and I smiled at him, truly happy. I didn’t have many friends at school, so I was glad to finally have somebody to hang out with, even if it was my rival.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate Peter, I just wanted my dad’s love, that’s all. Besides, it was impossible to hate Peter: he was the light when everybody came into the room. He made everybody comfortable and he reassured who needed a kind word. I admired him. Today I wouldn’t have treated him like that.

“I actually have one request,” I said, when he sat on my bed, while looking around.

“I knew it”.

“Spidey-sense?”

“No, I just know you, I guess,” he said and I felt a knot in my stomach. “Anyway, anything for you. I’m so hungry!”

“What if I’d ask you something terrible?” I asked him, while giving him some marshmallows on a plate. “What if you were wrong?” 

Maybe I wasn’t talking about him, but about myself. I was so concerned not to be Tony Stark’s perfect daughter, that somehow I acted like that just so people could be right about me. Maybe I was just worried to be an evil person.

But he shrugged. Peter ate a marshmallow, looked straight into my eyes and said: “You’re not what you think you are, Y/N. Trust me, I would know”.

“Because you know me?”

“No, because of my Spidey-sense, you silly little girl,” he said and I chuckled. Then, his face became so serious it almost scared me. “You know, Ned warned me about you once”.

“Oh, really? Why?” I asked, while sitting next to him.

“He said that you’re trouble”.

“Trouble?”

“Yeah, like staring directly at the Sun. It’s kinda dope, though. You’re more like the Moon, but still. The Moon is so pretty and strong”.

“Strong? Why?”

“Yeah, because it takes courage to stay in the sky without anybody in the dark”.

“Oh, well, but the Moon has the stars. They’re like soldiers: they protect her”.

Peter looked at me while eating another marshmallow, as if he was really thinking about what I said, then he nodded.

“I agree. I can be your star,” he said. “I’ll protect you. From now on, we’re friends,” he stated. 

I smiled at him.

“Thanks, friend”.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Oh, what did you wanna ask me?”

I didn’t actually have anything to ask him. Maybe I just wanted some accompany that night, because I couldn’t sleep either. His words changed me, though. I wanted to return the favor in some way.

“One day, I’m gonna ask you to promise me something and you’ll have to keep your word”.

He brought a hand to his heart and swore to do so.

“Okay”.

And that was the night I fell in love with Peter Parker. 

Some years after that, when we were at university, he broke my heart when he told me he kissed MJ. 

“Why do I feel like you’re not happy about it?” He asked me. 

How do you explain to somebody that you’re drowning in your own thought? In your own blood, in your own bones. It’s like you’re disappearing, but you really don’t. You just wish you could.

“Because I don’t really like her”.

“You’re kinda the same person, actually,” he said and it really hurt me.

“What?”

“No, wait, I didn’t mean to…”

“If you think that you can replace me with her, you can do it. It’s fine,” I said, shutting the door behind me.

“Y/N! I didn’t mean to say that! I just wanted… I just… I don’t know,” he sighed, then I heard him sitting on the floor, his back on the door and his breath so distant from my skin. He stayed silent for a couple of minutes, that’s why I thought he went away. I could still hear his heartbeat through the door though, since I was with my back on it like him. “You’re irreplaceable, to me. I just wanted to say that you’re similar to MJ, that’s it. You’re two black cats. I’m sorry”.

I remained silent for some time, then I sighed: it was impossible to stay angry at him for more than two minutes straight.

“That makes you a golden retriever, then?” I asked and he chuckled.

“I guess so”.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him that I was in love with him then and that I had been for years, but the words wouldn’t come up to my mouth. Besides, he was in love with someone else. We were just friends and it had to be enough for me.

“Hey, Peter?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I learned that stars that shine the brightest do that because they’re dying. I shouldn’t do that”.

“Do what? Shine?”

“Die,” I said. “You’re not allowed to die. Okay?”

“Okay”.

I didn’t know it then, but I’d have been the one to die.

Thanos was… a lot of things. And Peter was a lot of things to me. So when I had to choose what to do, it was simple. My Dad didn’t want me to be there, but I was on the battlefield. I saw people fight, die give everything they could. It was terrific. But I was there to protect Peter, because I knew that he couldn’t do that alone, despite him being so strong all the time. Because he was like me. 

“Y/N?” He shouted, when he saw me. He was surprised and scared at the same time. “You shouldn’t be here!” 

“I should!” I said, while I was fighting with one of Thanos’ soldiers.

“If anything happens to you, I swear…”

“Nothing will happen!” I said, while he was winning against some soldier.

“Mr. Stark will be very disappointed!”

Yes, he was.

“He’ll understand!”

No, he didn’t.

“Why are you here?” Peter asked me, while he was close enough to put his hands on my shoulders. I had an armor, but it was useless when he looked into my eyes. I melted like a silly little girl.

“You know why,” I said and I prayed that he understood it. My heart clenched.

He gulped.

“I don’t”.

“You shine brighter than me. I can’t allow you to die,” I replied.

“This doesn’t make any sense, Y/N. I won’t leave you here. I’ll take you home”.

“You will,” I said. “You have to. You promised. Don’t follow me. You have to keep your word, remember? If Thanos kills me…”

“No, Y/N, no…”

“If Thanos kills me,” I continued, “you won’t look for revenge. Is it clear?”

“Y/N…”

“Is it clear?” I repeated, determined. He nodded. “Good”.

You’re asking yourself how I knew that, right? Well, I didn’t. But I knew Peter. I knew that he would have followed me anywhere, because I would have done that too. 

Then, everything happened all at once. My Dad saw me from the distance. He called out my name, but I didn’t hear him. I was disappearing. Peter looked at me in disbelief, too astonished to talk. That was me dying twice. 

“Remember me,” I said, while trying to hug him, but it was like my muscles were too tired to even embrace him. I was slowly falling asleep.

“Y/N? Y/N?” He called. “I love you! I love you!” He screamed, his voice a desperate heartbreak into the air. “I love you!”

When my dad reached out to him, it was already too late for me. 

***

When Peter came back from the cemetery, he didn’t expect to see Tony Stark at his university, after five years. He knew that Y/N came to the battle just to protect Peter, so he hated him because if his eldest daughter died was his fault. But now he knew what to do in order to bring her back and he needed his help to do it. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here”.

“It’s her death anniversary, I know, but I had other things to do,” he said. “I know how to bring her back, Peter, but I need you to come with me”.

Peter shaked his head.

“I don’t understand: I thought that you hated me”.

“Y/N always said that nobody could really hate you and she was right”.

Peter smiled at him, his lips trembling.

“I broke up with MJ the day before the battle. I wanted to tell her, but I never got the chance. I thought that she didn’t want me”.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder, a warm smile on his face.

“There’s not a world in which she doesn’t want you, I fear”.

That being said, they were coming back to the past with the other Avengers in order to save Y/N and the people who had died because of Thanos. Tony was the first one to see Y/N coming back from the dead.

“Peter!” He called.

Peter turned and he saw Y/N. It was like coming back from a dream. She was finally back into his arms and he wouldn’t have let her go, this time. He dipped his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. It was so real it made his heart ache. If he could have exchanged his place with her in all those years, he would have done so. He would have done anything to make her live a normal life. Being without her meant not living, but barely floating on the surface.

“I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve been for most of my life, actually. Since that night we ate the marshmallows together”.

He saw her bring her hands on her heart, tilting her head with tears in her eyes.

“And you’re my light, Peter. You always have been”.

Then he hugged her again and it felt like coming home.  

[tonythr]

Quick Slash is even cooler from a narrative perspective, and why I think the Nailsmith's story parallels the Pale King's

Cold take: Quick Slash is the best charm in Hollow Knight.

Slightly Warmer take: Quick Slash is the only S-tier charm that is great from both gameplay and lore perspective (aside from maybe Spell Twister).

The reason for this is that its existence is actually a

metaphor

Here, look at this.

So, Quick Slash is something that was created from a relatively big number of objects that were discarded and deemed imperfect, and that possess a collective will of wanting to fulfill their purpose.

You know what that reminds me of?

A large amount of creations: check.

Discarded as imperfect: check.

Still possessing a will to find closure: check.

Being a part of a larger, more powerful thing: check.

Having a common creator who is responsible for their creation and rejection: check.

So yeah, I think that Quick Slash's lore (or at least its description) is meant to parallel that of the Vessels'.

But I wanna talk about that last point: the creator.

It is heavily implied that the person who created and then later discarded those nails was the Ancient Nailsmith we see in the room where we get Quick Slash.

(Oh by the way I just realized that this stone ring thing on the right of that room is actually the furnace, neat.)

Judging from their Dreamnail dialogue, this Ancient Nailsmith was trying to achieve the same goal as the other, more famous Nailsmith we all know and love: creating a Pure Nail.

And you know who else was trying to create a perfect, Pure thing while discarding many other similar things that later gained a collective will?

That's right - it's the guy who is also responsible for creating those other discarded things we discussed earlier!

Ok, but what I really wanted to talk about here is how all of what I just said ties back to that other, more famous guy - The Nailsmith.

We don't know for sure how the story of the Ancient Nailsmith ended, but it feels like it exists there mainly to put an emphasis on the City's Nailsmith's story; to convey that his struggle is an important theme in this narrative (because ancient means important, ok?) And, I mean, the City's Nailsmith's story also parallels that of the Pale King's in the same manner, right?

The thing is, we already know how PK's story ended.

In trying to achieve perfection, to create an eternal Kingdom by making a Pure Vessel devoid of mind, voice and will, the Pale King doomed himself to be taken over by his regrets, by the vast emptiness of the futility of his struggles. But was it because he failed, or because that was where his story was headed all along?

What if PK succeeded? What if the Radiance was sealed forever? What if his Kingdom actually stood eternal, never to change, never to end? What if he realized he achieved his only goal in life?

And that's the part where we get to a story the ending of which is up to the player's choice.

To quote White Lady, only two obvious outcomes there are from such a thing.

The first is an honorable death by the fruits of his labor.

If we choose to kill the Nailsmith with the Pure Nail, he dies happy, knowing that his life's goal is accomplished and having gained all the satisfaction he could from it.

The second I find preferable, a new passion.

If the Nailsmith doesn't feel the finishing blow of the Pure Nail, he is left unsatisfied. But, while trying to resolve that unsatisfaction, he eventually finds something (and someone) that gives him a new calling, a new thing to create, a new reason to live.

And, while those are both equally valuable, equally canonic outcomes, don't you think the second one is just... better? I mean, not only does it include the achievement of the Nailsmith's goal, but it lets him live AND gives two lonely souls a partner in life! I feel like that's the thing this narrative is trying to convey. What it's trying to say about the meaning of life, about our dreams.

Maybe that was the ultimate folly of the Pale King - the inability to change. His story would've ended in the same way, regardless of whether Hallownest lasted eternally or not. He would be dead, if not by the hands of the Void, but by his own - but ultimately, by the hands of that vast emptiness of realizing that you achieved your only goal and that now all there is for you is this eternal satisfaction that slowly fades away, leaving you with nothing.

TL;DR: Quick Slash is the best because it's a metaphor for discarded vessels; perfection is overrated, try to get laid instead.

[killerlookz]

No Going Back | Joost Klein

this is *technically* a prequel to this fic (heartbeat) but should be read after!!!!! as the "lore" is explained in that fic.

description: joost klein x f! reader- after getting into a new relationship, you had decided it was high time to cut off your ex-with-benefits, joost, but an encounter at a mutual friend's birthday party leaves you wondering if it's going to be easier said than done.

content: 18+ explicit smut, MDNI, RPF dry humping, unprotected PiV/creampie, slight overstim(?), cheating, toxic relationships, angst, some fluff, hurt/comfort... probably like way too much comfort, smoking/alcohol, drug ment. but as a metaphor.

THIS WORK CONTAINS RPF, AND HAS BEEN TAGGED APPROPRIATELY. PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, BLOCK ME, AND BLOCK THE RPF TAG-

DO NOT SHARE MY WORK EITHER IN ITS ENTIRETY OR AS SCREENSHOTS ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS,AGAIN I URGE YOU TO BLOCK ME AND THE RPF TAG INSTEAD OF EXPOSING THIS WORK TO A LARGER AUDIENCE THAT DID NOT ASK TO SEE IT.

THIS FIC IS ALSO SOLELY TAGGED IN THE X READER TAG, MEANING IF YOU'RE HERE YOU SEARCHED FOR IT... PLEASE CONSUME MEDIA RESPONSIBLY. (keep this in mind if you decide not to heed my warnings and continue reading or complain about it elsewhere)

word count: 10,728

fic soundtrack: Watercolor Eyes- Lana Del Rey, Blood on My Hands- The Sundays, Show Me the Real You- Moodring

"Now I find that I'm thigh deep, too young for the worst of my mind. You whisper behind me, "If I may make so bold". Call it young and wild, but I ran a mile in a minute... and there's no going back"

You should stop staring.

You're sure by now it's obvious, you're sure by now Joost can feel your eyes burning to him from where you sit directly across from him. The conversations around you are little distraction from your watchful gaze. Not even the feeling of your boyfriend, Michael's hand moving to rest on your thigh can pull you out of your trance.

Joost laughs at a joke Apson tells, one that you hadn't bothered to pay attention too. Instead your focus is fixated on the way Joost's face lights up at as his head tilts back slightly, amused by his friend's sense of humor. The dimples in his cheeks now prominent as his mouth opens, lips curling up into a wide grin. All the noise that surrounds you in the crowded restaurant is dampened by the sound of his laughter, a sweet music to your ears.

Joost's eyes meeting yours as his laughter subsides is finally enough to rip you from your stares. With a few quick blinks you're somewhat back to reality, tunnel vision disappearing. You pull your lips into a tight smile, unsure of if you should be embarrassed by your actions. Though embarrassment is hardly on your mind as Joost smiles back at you, which was more than you could hope for given the situation at hand.

It was probably naive of you to assume that getting into a new relationship would make things less complicated between you and Joost. But in your head, initially, it made perfect sense, a new relationship meant you could push your feelings into something different, perhaps finally get over what was supposed to be your ex-boyfriend.

But seeing Joost now, for the first time since you and Michael had started going out, you realize things aren't going to be so easy, that Joost, and the relationship that the two of you had wasn't something that you could just "get over". Especially not when instead of trying to move on after the breakup, the two of you would remain intimate. While intimacy now lacked the romance of your past relationship, your feelings lingered, unable to separate the Joost in front of you now from the Joost who was once your boyfriend.

A quick glance down at your lap leads you to finally notice Michael's hand on your thigh, the reminder that he in fact was the one here who was your boyfriend making your stomach sink. The uncomfortableness of the night was becoming too much to bare. Damn Julie for wanting to meet your new boyfriend on today of all days, and damn yourself for not being able to say no to your best friend on her birthday.

"So," You hear Julie start, looking toward you and Michael, "Michael, y/n tells me you're not from here, have you been in there Netherlands long?"

Michael furrows his eyebrows, you guess he's attempting to count the months since he left the states,

"Almost 8 months." He replies, his voice is flat, uninterested.

"That's nice," Julie smiles, "Do you plan on staying here for awhile?"

"Depends," He shrugs, his hand falling from your lap, a small wave of relief rushing over you. "I go wherever the money takes me. And right not the money is here."

"Well I guess that's not bad advice to live your life by," Julie nods, but she seems unsure of herself, Michael had that affect on people, making people question whether or not you were saying the right thing. You knew that well.

"It's the only advice to live your life by."

"Nah, nah, man," Joost shakes his head, "There's more to life than money. Where's the passion?"

You bite the inside of your cheeks, eyes flicking toward Michael. Michael chuckles, though, just like in everything else, there's a clear condescension in the way he laughs, making it more-so of a scoff.

"Don't be ridiculous," His dry, faux laughter continues, perhaps a little too long, "You're young, you'll find out soon enough. You don't really think you're going to be doing the music thing forever, do you? "

"Michael!" You place a firm hand down on the table, the silverware clattering slightly from the vibration of your hand.

"No, it's okay," Joost laughs uncomfortably. "Appreciate the honesty, Michael." An apparent bitterness in his voice, "But can't say I'll take your advice."

"Eh," Michael shrugs, "You say that now-"

"Alright!" Apson exclaims from beside Joost, clapping his hands together once, commanding the table's attention, "How about dessert?"

The tension is briefly lifted from the table as everyone looks at each other, nodding contently in agreement that it was, indeed, time for dessert.

You're nursing your second espresso martini while the table finishes up their dessert, combined with the glass-and-a-half of wine you had with dinner, you're certainly feeling, less tense.

You listen less than intently as Julie talks about a recent promotion that she got at work. Not that you're not proud enough of your friend to care, but you're not fully there. You inch your leg forward slightly, nudging your ankle against Joost's leg. You pretend not to notice as his gaze flicks towards you, instead you train your eyes on the plate on the table in front of you, moving around what remains of the food with your fork.

Julie is still explaining her new position as you bring your leg up higher, the top of your foot sliding up the fabric of Joost's pants until you reach his knee.

He's staring at you now, just as you had been staring at him before, you can feel it. Still attempting to keep an air of nonchalant you turn to try to focus on Julie's speech. At the same time you move forward slightly in your seat, extending your leg fully under the table, you press the ball of your foot to the inside of Joost's thigh.

You notice in your peripheral how his posture straightens as he sucks in a breath. You smile slightly, a light puff of air leaving your nostrils at his stifled reaction to your teasing.

Truthfully you weren't quite sure what you were doing, you full well had made plans to stay the night with Michael tonight. After all, your apartment was much farther away than his from the restaurant Julie had chosen for her birthday dinner, it was just much easier to stay with Michael and catch a train back home tomorrow during the daytime rather than traveling by yourself at night.

Despite your other plans, you press the point of your shoe a little higher up on Joost's thigh now, continuing to tease him. You have no real end goal in mind, and you really should be consumed with guilt at even thinking of touching a man other than Michael like this, but the alcohol has mellowed your inhibitions, and there's a certain thrill in doing something that you know you shouldn't be.

You feel Joost's hand against your leg, his fingers wrapping around your ankle, thumb gently caressing your skin. You fight back a smirk, after over a month of not seeing Joost you were ready to melt under his simple touch. His fingers tighten, then loosen around you again, and he continuously repeats the pattern, gently massaging you.

You're dangerously close to poking Joost's crotch with the tip of your shoe when Michael throws an arm around you, unexpectedly. You're startled, kicking forward slightly, forcing Joost's hand from your ankle. Joost presses a fist to his mouth, clearing his throat before pushing his seat back, causing your heel to fall to the ground.

"I need a cigarette," He mumbles as he stands up from the table, quickly hurrying away.

His abrupt exit halts the conversation, the table going silent with confusion.

"Um," You start, "I-uh- think I'm gonna have a smoke too." You nod quickly, untangling yourself from Michael's grasp, standing up, shuffling awkwardly from the table.

You quickly find your way outside, the air is brisk, a chill breeze blowing past you immediately making you realize you should have brought a jacket. Joost isn't too far out the door, an unlit cigarette pressed to his lips

"Can I get a cigarette?" Your heels clack loudly against the concrete as you step out onto the sidewalk.

Joost quickly whips his head toward you, ripping the cigarette from his mouth. Joost shakes his head, almost like he's in disbelief,

"What are you doing?" He's genuinely confused, a hint of interrogation in his voice.

You're taken aback by the force at which he asks, a tone he hadn't taken with you in awhile.

"Asking... for a cigarette?" It comes out more like a question, your eyebrows furrowed, words slow in equal confusion.

"No," He shakes his head again, "I mean in there- what was that about?" He raises a hand, vaguely gesturing towards the restaurant, "You have a boyfriend, remember?"

You do remember, unfortunately.

"So, I can't have a cigarette?" You ask slowly, your acute intoxication slipping its way into your words.

"Whatever," He scoffs, holding out his hand to give you the cigarette he was just about to smoke.

"Why are you being so weird?" You giggle, taking the cigarette from him, "Oh," You smile, "Can I get a light?"

"Jesus christ," His annoyance with the way you're playing dumb is apparent, and you know you won't be able to keep up the act forever. You bite the inside of your cheeks as he reaches his hands into his pockets, fumbling around for a lighter. It was naive of you to pretend like Joost wouldn't want to address the obvious elephant in the room.

You place the cigarette between your lips as Joost pulls out the lighter, his hand stretched out to pass it to you. You say nothing, only stick out your jaw slightly, the cigarette flicking upward. You want him to light it for you.

"You're evil," He clenches his jaw, his jaw line sharpening, cheeks hollowing, making the angular bones in his face more apparent. Still, Joost steps forward sightly, flicking the lighter against his thumb. A small orange flame erupts, and Joost lightly passes it to the end of your cigarette, holding the lighter there just long enough for it to light.

You inhale as Joost pulls the lighter back, you bring your hand to your lips, barely holding the cigarette between two fingers. The smoke fills your lungs, invading your senses as the warmth pricks at your throat.

You exhale, "That's not very nice." You frown.

"C'mon," Joost's expression suddenly changes, tilting his head to the side, he seems defeated, "Seriously, what are you doing?"

"I-" You think for a moment, "I don't know." You're equally as defeated now, the threat of having to cut things off with Joost is imminent. And it's what you should be doing, you should be giving Michael your undivided attention, its high time you should be leaving Joost in your past, where you know he belongs.

Your lips tremble as you push the cigarette back to them, the alcohol that once stripped you of your inhibitions suddenly making them so much worse.

"I don't understand you," Joost mutters, "You break up with me, you break my heart, decide you still want to fuck me for a year, then you run off, get a boyfriend, don't talk to me for over a month, and now all a sudden you're touching all over me under the dinner table like I'm the one you're going home with tonight, like you didn't break up with me a year ago."

It does sound bad when he puts it that way, your heart plummeting to your stomach under the heavy weight of guilt. You really fucked up this time.

"Joost-" You're cut off as the cigarette accidentally falls from your shaking hands. Shit. You force your gaze down to the pavement, unable to look at Joost as you crush the barely smoked cigarette under your shoe. "It's not that simple," Your voice is soft, barely returning the same confrontational tone he had given you.

Of course it isn't that simple. Why had he been acting like it was? As if you had broken up with him as a result of love lost between the two of you? As if you had just broken his heart for the fun of it? He of all people should know how hard it was for you to break up with him, what should have been a simple process turning into an hours long affair of you crying in each others arms, lamenting in how much you still loved him, and him desperately apologizing for not having given you everything you deserved.

"And you should know damn well how hard I tried to save our relationship, why else do you think I keep coming back?"

"Obviously you didn't try hard enough, or you wouldn't be here with another guy."

A strained laugh escapes your throat, amused by how absurd Joost is being now,

"No, Joost, you're the one who didn't try." You cross your arms across your chest, realizing just how cold the night air was, goosebumps littering your arms, "That's why we broke up in the first place, remember?" A year later and you still cannot escape the emotions of that night. You can't help but wonder if you'll ever be free from this feeling, or if you even want to be.

Emotions run high, and you can feel the tears brewing behind your eyes, threatening to spill with any sudden movement you make.

You blink once and a singular tear slips from your lash line, slowly caressing the curve of your cheek. Joost's expression suddenly changes, eyes widening, lips parting like he's about to speak.

"Hey, pumpkin," You hear a familiar voice call from behind you, the pet name makes your stomach churn, overwhelming you with such disgust you temporarily forget Joost in front of you. A hand against your back accompanies the voice, finally making you turn to face it.

With a sniffle and a few blinks you push back the emotions, a smile pulling at your lips with a chipper voice to match,

"Michael," You beam, "What's up?"

"I am so sorry honey, but I just remembered I have an early meeting tomorrow," His voice is barely apologetic, and you don't quite understand what he's getting at.

"Oh-uh-okay?" You furrow your eyebrows, unsure of why he's apologizing for having a meeting.

"So I'm going to head out now, I already left some money for the bill, I'll talk to you in the morning, okay?"

"But I thought I was going to come to your-" Michael doesn't let you finish your sentence,

"I know, pumpkin, I'm sorry, I just think it's best you don't stay over tonight." He nods.

"Oh, but it's dark I don't want to-" You're cut off again,

"Don't be ridiculous sweetheart, you'll be okay, see you soon, mkay?" He smiles.

You're hesitant to even speak again, knowing if you say too much he'll probably cut you off again. "Sure," You pull your lips into a tight smile, nodding in an attempt to hide your disappointment. There go your plans for the night. "Right, see you later." You try your best to bare a grin.

"Okay, bye pumpkin," He leans in for a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying off, on his walk away he throws up a hand towards Joost, "Nice to meet you, buddy."

"Yeah, you too." Joost speaks slowly, though you're sure Michael doesn't even hear with the speed at which he walks away. You flick your eyes to Joost for a brief moment before immediately looking away, opting to no longer brave the cold and head straight for the restaurant bathroom.

You rush past the table your friends still sit at in the dimly lit restaurant, making your way to the back of the building. You fling over the bathroom door, a small relief washing over you when you realize it's only a singular stall before you lock the door behind you.

You place your hand above your eyes, pressing tightly as the tears begin to flow, all of your stupid decisions slapping you in the face at once. Unfortunately, your actions have consequences; and here you were, in a restaurant bathroom forced to bear the brunt of all of them now.

You had broken up with Joost to begin with, in part, to stop the arguing between you two. But it seemed like you could never help yourself, desperate to get Joost to see your side of things, a subconscious urge to finally get him to change, to get him to be the perfect boyfriend you had always dreamed him to be. You can only push so much, tonight being a sign that you were reaching the point where you can't push much more without things breaking.

You lift your hands from your eyes, and lean forward against the bathroom counter. Your hands press into the edge of the marble that surrounds the sink as you stretch your body towards the mirror, inspecting your face.

You're stained with the distinct mark of sadness, eyes now red, your face slightly puffy. You huff, allowing yourself, for just a moment to be grateful you had put on waterproof eyeliner tonight, saving yourself from a potentially greater mess on your face.

You watch yourself in the mirror intently, the glass reflecting back to you how truly pathetic you feel now. But you'll have enough time to feel pathetic once you get home, now, tonight, was about Julie, and it would be selfish of you to spend the rest of the night hiding out, smothering yourself in your own despair instead of celebrating your best friend.

You blink away the remaining tears in your eyes and gently press your fingers to your cheeks to rid the droplets from your skin. The fact you had been crying was apparent, but the restaurant was dark, and you hoped that the low mood lighting would be enough to hide that fact.

With a few deep breaths you're ready to unlock the bathroom door. The metal handle is cool under your shaky touch, you turn it, pulling back the door.

You jump back slightly when you realize there's someone standing behind it, the figure startling you, making your whole body jolt.

"Oh," You inhale sharply, recognizing the person behind the door as Joost, "Sorry, were you waiting for the bathroom? I'm gonna head back-" You speak quickly, head down anxious to get out of his way.

"Nee, I-" He grabs your arm lightly, not allowing you to leave the small corridor the bathroom was located in. He's about to say something else- but you look up at him, and his tone changes, "Oh," He sighs, not releasing his grip on your arm, in fact, only using it to bring you closer to him, "Tell me you weren't crying in there."

You assume he finally got to have that cigarette he wanted after he had given the first one to you, the familiar lingering scent of smoke and his cologne overwhelming your senses as he pulls you closer. The smell, a reminder of his proximity, should upset you, knowing you probably won't be able to enjoy it much longer, but your instincts kick in, and it's nothing but comfort.

"Joost," You start, placing your hand over where his grips your arm, ready to peel it off of you, "I'm okay, I really should be getting back to Julie."

"No, really," He tilts his head, "Tell me." You loosen your hand from where it rests on his, suddenly no longer so willing to part with his touch.

"I'm okay." Your voice a whisper now.

Joost stares down at you, and even now, you can't help but stare back at him. His pretty blue eyes are deep with emotion.

"I'm always doing that, hm?" There's a certain disappointment in his voice, as he moves closer to you, pressing his free hand to your cheek, "Making you cry?"

He's not entirely wrong, but you'd hate to admit it, much less admitting it to his face.

"I know you don't mean to," Your voice is soft, apologetic, like you're sorry for even crying in the first place, "Don't worry about it."

"I worry about everything," He chuckles, a poor attempt at lightening the mood, but it earns a small smile from you, and that's really all he can hope for. "But I was um- thinking I'll take you home? Just, you know, take the train with you, and shit."

"Oh-uh-"

"You can say no." He's quick to speak, "But I heard what Michael said, and I don't really like thinking of you going home by yourself so late."

It's thoughtful, even if he did just almost tear your heart out. You think for a moment, though it's not really necessary to, you already have an answer.

"That would be nice," You nod, "I'd like that."

Joost swipes his thumb against your cheek while he nods back to you, his opposite hand moving from its spot on your arm to snake around your back. His touch only solidifies the cycle you had found yourself tangled in for far too long, you upsetting one another to a point you shouldn't be able to return from, only to fall back in each others arms.

You know you should ask Joost to let go, to just accept his offer to take you home and leave it at that, and not let things go any further. But you'd be a liar to say you didn't love the way it felt when he touched you, the way even after all this time the feeling of his skin against yours still gives you butterflies in your stomach.

The two of you stare at each other silently until you let out a small giggle, realizing how weird it was for you to be sharing such a moment right outside the bathroom.

"I think we should probably head back to the table."

By the time you leave dinner you had regained that slight alcoholic buzz that the emotions of before had taken from you, a smile pressed on your lips as you waved your final goodbyes to your friends.

You turn towards the direction you should be heading, "ugh" You groan, realizing the journey ahead of you, it'll be at least another 45 minutes until you get home.

Another brisk wind blows past you, the prospective 45 minutes ahead of you suddenly feeling so much longer once you realize you'll be shivering for most of it.

"Cold?" Joost chuckles, watching you fold your arms across your torso, attempting to provide yourself with some heat.

"A little," You mumble.

"Mmm, I'm sorry," Joost hums, "Here," He begins sliding the black Ed Hardy zip-up he had been wearing off of his shoulders, revealing he had been wearing nothing but a T-shirt under the hoodie.

You hadn't asked for the sweatshirt, though you still feel a little bad taking it from him when he stretches an arm toward you, handing off the bunched up fabric.

"Are you sure?" You ask, glancing between the hoodie in his hands, and him.

"Yeah, you need it more, at least I'm wearing pants." He smiles, seeming happy enough to let you wear his sweatshirt. He had a fair point anyway, with you having chosen to forego any tights under your skirt tonight.

You slip your arms through the thick fabric, its soft inside immediately enveloping you in at least a little warmth. Joost's own body heat still lingers slightly in the material, a feeling you attempt to savor even as it quickly dissipates.

You're grateful for the slight warmth Joost's sweatshirt provides you, but it's still not enough, still shivering by the time you're on the train back home.

"Still cold?" Joost asks, though it's apparent the way you're folded in on yourself, trying to provide yourself with some heat.

You just hum in response, jaw too tight to talk.

"Oh," Joost coos, "Poor baby," He laughs, "Come here." He throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. Him calling you "baby" catches you off guard, though you're sure it's more mocking than it is meant to be romantic. Still, you don't dare to say anything about it.

"You're warm," You sigh as you rest your head on Joost's shoulder, face buried in his neck. His body gives off a good amount of heat, feeling more comfortable as his arms wrap around you.

You shouldn't enjoy this as much as you do, and no matter how cold you are you really shouldn't be doing this at all, not as long as Michael was in the picture. But the gentle smell of Joost's cologne is intoxicating, its familiar comfort enough to enjoy the moment without a care in the world.

You close your eyes and snuggle closer into Joost, wrapping your arms around his torso, allowing yourself to relax entirely in his embrace. You can feel his pulse gently thumping from your position against his neck, and truthfully you'd love nothing more than to press soft kisses to the pumping vein and stain his skin with your lipstick. You hate the way your mind betrays your morality, allowing yourself to get lost in these fantasies that you know are no good for you.

"Don't fall asleep on me here," Joost chuckles, lightly caressing your back.

"No promises," You mumble, feeling the vibrations of your speech against his neck.

Luckily for Joost, you hadn't fallen asleep, not leaving him with the burden of waking you up once you had arrived at your stop and dragging you home half asleep.

Instead, by the time you're unlocking your apartment door, you're wide awake, too overwhelmed with emotions to be anywhere near tired. As you turn the doorknob to enter your apartment you look back toward Joost who's standing behind you, looking a little unsure of himself.

"Do you want to come in?" You smile, "You can stay the night, it's kind of late." As soon as the offer leaves your tongue you know there's no going back now.

"You don't mind?" He asks.

"Of course not." The entrance to your apartment now stands as a door to probable bad decisions, ready to be opened. You push open the door, revealing your darkened living room.

Your hit with a wave of nerves as you step over the threshold and into the apartment, anxious for what the night has in store for you. The door lingers open for a few moments longer as Joost enters behind you.

You flick on some lights, illuminating the space around you in a pale yellow glow.

"I think I'm going to get ready for bed," You say lowly, still not tired, but you're unsure of what else to do, "Um," You start to speak again, "I won't make you sleep on the couch, I don't mind sharing the bed." You turn to Joost, shrugging. You secretly hope Joost doesn't decide to take the couch anyway.

"Cool," He grins, eyes scanning the apartment awkwardly.

"Good," Your voice just above a whisper, "Uh, you can make yourself comfortable then, I'll be back." You nod before heading to the bathroom, ready to get your makeup off of your face.

You unzip Joost's hoodie, hooking it on the back of the bathroom door, not wanting to get it wet while washing your face. You head toward the sink, turning the faucet, staring at yourself in the mirror while you wait for the water to warm up.

You sigh, using this alone time to think long and hard about how you want this night to end. Off the top of your head, you know how you want the night to end, the man you were once certain was the love of your life was most definitely making himself comfortable in your bed, it seemed like a no brainer of how you want this night to end.

But it's not so easy to throw away your morality completely, though maybe you've already made your bed by asking Joost to stay the night. Michael would be mad regardless, perhaps there's no point of turning back now. You clench your jaw, deciding you're willing to go however far Joost is.

Another fifteen minutes in the bathroom and you're stepping out feeling a little better, nerves quelled by your extensive nightly self-care routine. You breathe in as you open the bathroom door, your mouth tingling from your minty toothpaste as you take the air in. You exhale as you exit the bathroom, walking towards your bedroom.

The door is open, the room dimly lit by the glow of your TV, and the light that shines in from your balcony window.

Joost lays comfortably in your bed, his lower body resting beneath your thick comforter, it's like he belongs there, resting so casually as if it was his bed too.

"You can turn on a light you know," You smile, your voice pulling him away from whatever he had been watching on TV.

"Oh," He sits up from his position against the pillows, "I wasn't sure if you wanted it on." He rolls over slightly, stretching an arm out to turn on the lamp that sits on your bedside table.

With a faint click your room is cast in a soft orange hue. You take a look around the now illuminated space, realizing you had forgotten to straighten up before you left for the night, some clothes scattered around the floor from your frantic search for the "perfect" outfit.

"Sorry about the mess," An unnecessary shyness in your voice, as Joost had certainly seen your room in worse states.

"I didn't even notice," He chuckles, "Guess I added to it," His head cocking towards your dresser, the pants he had been wearing messily folded with the belt still in the loops sitting on top of it.

You don't respond, instead bending down to unbuckle the ankle strap on your shoes before sliding them off. There's a relief as your feet hit the floor, no longer stuck in the forced uncomfortable position from your high heels. You place your shoes off to the side and close your bedroom door behind you as you step further in.

You walk towards you dresser, thumbing through a mountain of clothes to find something to sleep in, pulling out a T-shirt that had no doubt belonged to Joost some time ago.

"You know, your boyfriend's kind of a dick." Joost speaks unprompted.

"What?" You laugh, shutting one of the drawers to the dresser before spinning around to face Joost.

"Sorry," He furrows his eyebrows, "That was uncalled for. I was- just thinking about tonight, what he said, about the music stuff- and leaving you at the restaurant."

"Oh," You frown, he's not wrong, but you should probably defend your boyfriend, "Michael is just-" Nothing comes to mind, you cannot muster any sort of actual defense, "Yeah, I guess he can be sort of a dick." Your tone becomes dejected, an unfortunate realization that maybe, once again, you had't picked the right man.

"Wow," Joost seems amused, "Never seen you so quick to admit I'm right."

"Shut up," You roll your eyes, playfully scolding him, "Anyways, it's his loss really that he didn't take me home tonight." You pause, taking the intrigue on Joost's face, the way his eyes widen and his eyebrows raise, eager to listen to your complaints, as he for once, was finally not the subject of them. "Bought some cute new lingerie, which I wore tonight, and now he doesn't get to see it." A careful smirk pulling at your lips, "What a waste."

Joost shakes his head, "Poor guy." despite his words it's clear he doesn't feel sorry for him, though, why would he, "But I mean-" He hesitates for a moment, "It doesn't have to be a waste."

"No?" You can feel your face grow hot, "What are you suggesting? That I go through the effort of posing for some pictures for him so he doesn't have to miss out?" You know he's not, but you need the confirmation.

Joost squints his eyes, shaking his head,

"I was actually, thinking of a different audience entirely."

"And that audience being..."

"Me."

"You?" The pair of you speak simultaneously

"Hmm," You pretend to think, as if this wasn't what you were hoping he'd say, "I'm sure you'll appreciate it more than he would anyway."

Joost nods fervently, as your hands fly to the hem of your shirt, quickly lifting the fabric over your head exposing the promised cute new bra. It was simple, black, lace, with a bow between the two cups, but you found it cute regardless, plus, it made your boobs look amazing.

A small smile on your face as you flick your eyes to Joost, who's now sitting up a little higher on the pillows, clearly amused, waiting on edge to see the matching panties. You continue to stare him down as you very slowly pull down the zipper on the back of your skirt.

"Need any help with that?" Joost raises an eyebrow, the question is purely rhetorical but you know he'd love nothing more right now than to get his hands on you.

"No, I think I got it." The zipper reaches as far down as it can go, the skirt loosening at your waist. You do the extra work to pull it over your thighs before letting it slip down past your knees to your ankles, kicking it off to the side.

The panties are just as simple as the bra, a plain black thong with a lacy trim, with a bow in the middle of the waist band to match.

Joost squints, "Oh, you know my eyesight is bad, come closer."

A slight giggle leaves your mouth as you scurry over to the bed in excited anticipation. You stand over where Joost lies now, biting down on your tongue so hard you're sure you'll draw blood. Joost's eager eyes swallow you whole, taking in every inch of your newly exposed body.

Joost sits up all the way, the comforter that once covered him slipping down his chest and into his lap. He swings his legs over so they hang off the bed before reaching out a hand, gently placing it on your hip,

"Oh, schatje," He mumbles, his thumb moving back and forth, gently caressing your skin. Every time Joost touched you like this it felt like the first, your muscles tensing under him. He slides his hand up your torso so it rests on your waist, groping your lightly. "Je bent zo mooi," (you look so beautiful) His eyes find yours, making sharp, and direct eye contact with each other as a smirk forms upon his lips, "I'll almost feel bad taking all this off of you."

"Taking it off me?" You gasp, pretending to be offended by his insinuation.

"No?" He asks, raising an eyebrow like it's a challenge.

"Yeah- I mean, It's kind of unfair, y'know, talking about getting me undressed when you're still pretty clothed."

"What?" He teases, "You want me naked, schatje?"

"Mmm," You purse your lips, "I didn't say that, just if I'm gonna stand here in nothing but my underwear, maybe you should have to take something off too."

"You don't drive much of a hard bargain." Joost smiles, his hands already eager to tear off his shirt, "But that's probably because I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?" You bite your lip, deep down you wish it was as true as he says it is now, just about anything seems like a more apt estimation. He'd do anything but be emotionally present when you need it, anything but listen to you when you say there's a problem in your relationship, anything but engage in healthy communication.

But now's not the time to worry about that, to worry about the past, or the future, not when Joost is undressing in front of you, pulling his black T-shirt over his head, messing up his already unruly blond hair.

The second his flesh is exposed you're already aching to put your hands all over him, yearning for the feeling of his soft skin below your hands.

"Better," The ends of your mouth pull upward in content,

"Don't think so," Joost pouts before looking down at himself, "I don't think we're even, I think... my chest is pretty exposed and you're still very... covered." He looks back at you, waving his hand in a circle as he gestures towards your bra.

"You're ridiculous," You let out a small laugh at the way Joost plays your game.

"No, just being fair," He grabs your hand, pulling you closer so you stand between his legs, "Like you say." He leans forward, placing a kiss just below your belly button, his hands moving to settle on the backs of your thighs, keeping you close to him.

"Right," You smile, "Fair." Your hands crawling up your sides, reading towards your back, quickly fumbling around with the clasp of your bra before unhooking it.

Joost looks up from where he's pressed against your stomach, watching with intent as you slide the straps down your arms, and eventually discarding the bra all together.

You're not as ashamed as you should be, standing in front of Joost like this, in fact, you rather like the way he drinks you in, wordlessly admiring you, devouring your frame with hungry eyes.

"C'mon," Joost pulls away from you, his hands leaving your thighs, "Lay down with me?"

You nod, stepping back from where you stand between his legs so he can crawl back into your bed, shifting to the middle of the mattress. You follow shortly after, crawling on top of the blankets, before making your way to Joost.

Immediately you're straddling him, your knees on either side of him as you sit on his thighs. You try to keep your eyes trained on his face, and pretend not to notice the rest of him, or the way he's beginning to strain against the tight confines of his underwear. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't feeling similarly to him now, a familiar pulsing in your inner thighs, thumping heavily, muscles tight.

"Here," Joost motions with both hands for you to come closer, to rest your bare chest against his. It's an offer you'd be stupid not to accept, leaning forward, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. As you lean down, Joost's lips meet yours, enveloping you in a kiss so soft if it hadn't been coming from your ex, it would be romantic.

Or perhaps that fact had made it more romantic. Regardless you were lost in the way his lips worked slowly against yours, the two of you in perfect rhythm. You straighten your legs so you're laying completely on top of him. Joost's hands move to your waist, helping to position your hips. Your mouth opens slightly, gasping against Joost's lips once you finally feel him put you in the perfect position, the growing bulge in his underwear now right under your crotch.

"Right there," He mumbles before his mouth melts back into yours. You push your hips forward finding some friction between yours and Joost's bodies. You're pathetic, pathetic for him, but it's hard to care, not when he slips his tongue past your lips, hungrily exploring your mouth. Not when he holds your hips so tight his fingertips are sure to bruise your flesh, pulling you down towards him, letting you feel the full extent to how badly he needed you.

You roll your hips forward, your clit grinding against, what you assume is the tip of his now hardened cock. Joost groans into the kiss, clearly enjoying the sensation. By now the two of you would usually be scrambling to get each other naked, but the extra clothing, and the lack of penetration almost makes things more intimate. Joost turns his head for a moment to pull back from the kiss,

"Tell me if we start to take things too far." His voice is strained, and the slow caress of his thumb against your lower back ensuring how genuine each word he spoke was, "Promise?"

"Promise," You whisper.

Truthfully you were long past the point of "taking things too far", having already crossed a line when you decided to tease him under the table at the restaurant. This, now, was borderline unacceptable, fuck that, it was unacceptable- but neither of you seem to mind, Joost almost eager to be a "home wrecker", and you denying that you and Michael even had a home to wreck.

Despite how immoral this may be, you need more of Joost, the death grip he has on your hips has you moving far too slow for your complete and utter desperation.

"Faster," You sigh against Joost's lips, hoping he'll listen rather than using your request to tease you. Joost's hands move just below your ass, his blunt fingernails ripping into the backs of your thighs, spreading them further apart. With his new position you're able move more on your own, able to stimulate yourself more. Pushing your knees into the soft mattress, you begin to rut your hips faster, increasing the friction between you.

As hard as you try to keep a consistent pace, the burning desire in your core and the slick of your arousal make it almost impossible, unable to keep up with your own need.

"You like it like this?" Joost asks, almost breathless, a cockiness in his voice that tells you he already knows the answer.

"Mmhm," You hum lazily, letting your head drop from where you had been holding it up above Joost's, down to his shoulder. You're impossibly drunk off the way you feel, the way with each roll of your hips your clit grinds so perfectly against the length of Joost's cock. It's mind numbing how perfect you fit together, even stifled through your remaining clothes, you're filled with such pleasure.

You dig your fingers into the sides of Joost's arms, fingernails sure to leave little crescent moon shaped markings in his skin. You wish you could pull him closer, still feeling like there is a distance that needs to be closed between the two of you despite your position on top of him.

You clench your jaw, muscles tight at the way your body strains for him. Joost lets one hand climb up your thigh, palm now resting on the curve of you ass, before his fingernails return to your flesh, groping harshly, forcing you to grind harder against his cock. It's apparent that being away from each other for as short as a month was far too long.

You want to hold out for as long as possible, not wanting this feeling to fade, for it to be over in as quick as a few seconds as your orgasm rains over you- but its not so easy as the tightness builds between your thighs, and your movements become even sloppier than they were before.

You're a complete mess the way you whimper into the side of Joost's neck, only egged on by his obvious pulse thumping against your swollen lips.

Joost's own groans don't help holding you off from your impending climax, knowing how good this feels for him too, and that he's just as desperate for you as you are from him is just all too much for your brain to handle.

You know you're close when your legs start to tremble, and its not so easy to push yourself back and forth anymore,

"Tired already?" Joost teases, "Need me to help you?" He wraps two strong arms around your lower back, taking it upon himself to replicate your movements. Joost also thrusts his hips forward in time with you, only making your stimulation more intense.

"So good," The full breadth of you vocabulary seems to disappear, only able to slur together a few measly words to let Joost know how you were feeling, "Feels so good."

"I know it does," He sighs, "You close, schatje? Your legs are shaking."

"Very close," You screw your eyes tight, the hot simmering in your core about to turn over and reach its boiling point. Each and every one of your muscles are incredibly tight, bracing for your impending orgasm.

Joost holds you tighter upon hearing how close you were, determined to work you through your orgasm.

"Whenever you're ready," He encourages.

You could almost break a tooth with how tight your jaw is clenched, nothing but strained whines clawing their way out of your throat as you approach your climax.

The idea of cumming in your panties is a little embarrassing, but in the way that instead of making you want to crawl inside of your self in shame, it makes you only that much closer to finishing. Especially when combined with the filthiness of the fact you'll be ruining those panties over a different man than the one you bought them for. Joost had a habit of brining out the worst in you in the best ways, and now was no different.

"Joost," Your jaw finally unclenches in order for you to get one final word desperate out before your orgasm strikes you. A hot pang of electricity cracks throughout your entire body.

Joost's grip on you does not let up as you ride out your high, his voice nothing but a dull mumble of praises, "Ja, dat is het" (yeah that's it)

You continue to thrust against Joost until you're throbbing with overstimulation, gasping for air against Joost's neck.

"Is that all you got for me?" Joost asks, his words are lighthearted, not minding if you're too tired to continue for the night.

But you're not ready for the night to end, not so abruptly, just like that.

"Just," You inhale, your chest rising against Joost's, "Catching my breath." Exhale.

"Yeah," Joost laughs, high, and light- almost a giggle, "You were working pretty hard."

"Hmm," You hum, "You helped, a little." Acknowledging your orgasm was mainly due to your own work.

"I don't think that's enough," Joost pauses to place a kiss to the crown of your head, "Why don't you lay on your back so I can give you some real effort."

You peel yourself off of Joost's chest, bodies lightly sticky with sweat. You roll over, lightly thumping onto the mattress, landing on your back. Joost wastes no time in getting on top of you, perched on his hands and knees above you. A sight you had gotten used to by now, but it had never gotten less thrilling.

His unruly blonde locks spill over his forehead, some strands sticking against his skin with perspiration. His pupils are blown wide, looking like he's been rolling on molly, but his drug of choice tonight is you, your mere presence getting him higher than the finest pills or powder money could buy.

A lazy smirk draws across his swollen pink lips, a chuckle falling from them as they part,

"Don't laugh if I don't last too long," He jokes, bending his arms to lean forward and kiss your forehead, "You got me a little worked up."

"A little?"

"Very," He sighs in feigned defeat, "You drive me fucking crazy."

"Yeah, both in and out of the bedroom I'm sure." You grin, allowing yourself for just a moment to laugh at the ridiculousness of the antics you often pulled with Joost.

"Mhm," He nods, "But I probably deserve it."

"At least you're self aware, acceptance is the first step to recovery."

"Shut up," He laughs

"Make me," So cliche, You giggle.

It's a challenge Joost takes seriously, immediately catching your lips in another passionate kiss, rendering you unable to speak. You lift your arms, wrapping them around Joost's neck, pulling him down closer to you as you return his kiss.

He pulls away for a split instant, your arms falling to your side with a gentle thud.

"You're sure you want this?" His words are cautious, "We don't have to-"

"I wanna," You cut him off, "I want you." Emphasizing how badly it's him you want.

"In that case," He lifts himself from you, propped up on his knees as his hands reach for the waistband of his underwear. His fingers hook into the elastic, stretching it out slightly before pulling them down his thighs. You watch in anticipation as his cock springs free from the confines of the fabric. You shift your gaze between Joost's face and his dick, the tip a throbbing shade of red, leaky with pre-cum.

You curl your pointer finger towards you, beckoning for Joost to come closer as you prop yourself up on the pillows.

"How about we get these out of the way," Joost suggests, his hands finding their way into the elastic waistband of your panties. You nod, urging him to take them off, which he wastes no time doing.

As your panties come off you bend your legs, putting yourself on complete display for Joost. He grips the base of his cock in his palm, stroking up and down its shaft a few times, stopping at the tip momentarily to spread the clear pearl of precum that leaks from his slit around the head.

"Am I just supposed to stare while you jerk yourself off, or are you going to fuck me?" You tease.

"Patience is a virtue, schatje." He chastises, shaking his head back and forth.

"Fuck patience, I need you inside me." You whine, feeling your arousal growing once again at the anticipation of what's to come next.

"Fuck patience is right," He sighs, realizing what's in front of him.

Joost leans forward slowly to hover over you once more, his face close enough to you that the heat of his heavy breath is almost suffocating. You bite your lip, spreading your legs just a bit more, ready for him.

Joost's eyes trail down from your eyes to between your legs, ready to line himself up with your entrance, admiring every part of you along the way.

With the base of his cock held firmly in his hands, Joost sloppily pushes the tip through your soaked folds, collecting your arousal. You whine slightly, your whole body jerking as he passes your clit, still puffy and overstimulated from before.

Finally he lines himself up with your entrance, eyes flicking up towards you in search of a final nod of assurance, which you gladly give to him.

He pushes into you slowly, almost too slow, allowing you to feel all of him, every vein and curve as he enters you. You hold your breath as you wait for him to enter you completely, the way you stretch around him familiar yet incredibly overstimulating in your current state.

"You okay?" He exhales

"Y-yeah, keep going, please." You assure, nodding quickly.

Joost finally bottoms out, lingering fully inside of you before pulling most of the way out just as painfully slow,

It takes a few strokes for Joost to build up a pace, but once he does he's leaning over you once more. You raise both of your palms to his shoulders, gripping onto them for a split moment before sliding them down to his chest, running your hands over the tuft of dirty blonde hairs.

With each careful thrust into you, your breathing becomes heavier, your brain foggier, purely overwhelmed with the pleasure that is Joost.

"I missed this," Joost groans, "Fuck," He curses, pointed and sharp, "-'m'I gonna have to go another month without you after this? Don't know if I can handle that."

Having already crossed such a line in your relationship with Michael, it seemed unnecessary to deprive yourself of continuing to see Joost in this capacity again.

"Mmno," You slur, "Can have this whenever you want, whenever you want. Every day even."

"Every day, baby?" He raises an eyebrow, "What's the matter? Michael can't make you cum like I do?"

"Or at all," You sigh,

"Oh," Joost's expression is suddenly pained, "Not at all?"

"Barely." You clarify, not quite sure of why the topic of Michael is even being brought up during sex.

Joost lowers his head to your jaw, pressing open mouth kisses to your skin. His tongue is wet and warm, it's soothing, the sensation making you exhale in pure bliss.

"Just using me to cum then, hm?" His question not entirely serious.

"Oh shut up," You giggle, "That's what my fingers are for."

Joost places another sloppy kiss to your jaw before speaking again,

"And I don't suppose you're thinking of Michael when you're doing that?"

"Not exact-ly," You admit, the inflection of your voice raising on the last syllable as Joost begins to thrust into you harder.

"Care to enlighten me on what you do think about?" His voice leads you to believe he's confident that he's the one you think about when trying to get off, and of course, he's right.

"This, right here," You admit, breathing labored with Joost's sharp thrusts. "You," You swallow down a moan, "Fucking me." You bite your lip, "And when I don't feel like faking an orgasm, I imagine its you fucking me instead of Michael."

"Fuck, liefje," Joost lets out a low groan, "Gonna make me cum right now saying shit like that to me."

"Well it's true," You respond innocently, "Never gonna find anyone else like you." And part of you never wants to, Joost such a unique part of your life you'd never want to replace, no matter how rocky things have a habit of becoming between you.

Both of you cease to speak, no more sly remarks to make to each other, rather your bedroom filled only by the borderline pornographic noises you and Joost made together. The filthy wet slapping that bounced off the walls with each thrust, you whispered moans, and Joost's strained grunts instead filling the dead air.

You slide your hands towards Joost's neck, pressing down with your palms, careful not to choke him out, only wanting to feel him under you.

Joost seems like he's struggling to keep pace, his arms wavering on either side of you, signaling he was probably getting close, you're not far behind, but you can't help be disappointed, wishing this moment could last forever.

At this point, Joost knew your body by memory, knowing just where to thrust and at what pace to have you squirming and whimpering under him. And he was putting that knowledge to plenty good use now, the sound of your moans getting louder, and more unruly with each roll of his hips forward was music to his ears.

You feel your muscles tighten once more, already aching and sore from your prior activities, yet you don't let the strain distract you from your building climax. You know you won't be able to last much longer, not with the perfect angle Joost thrusts into you at, so deep with each stroke, and so delicately brushing over your sensitive clit every time he pulls out and subsequently dips back into you.

You keep your eyes trained on Joost for stability, watching the way his face contorts with each perfect thrust forward. He's pretty, almost impossibly so, in a way that makes it hard to care how frequently he seemed to make a mess of your life- it was all worth it, just to see that pretty face above you like this.

"You're staring," He can barely laugh, too out of breath, though he tries. Joost had always been amused by your infatuation with him, and even more so he loved to watch how shy you got when he called you out on it.

Your skin is hot, and not just from the obvious physical activity, it's a warmth that radiates from inside of you, burning every nerve. You let your head fall to the side, a sheepish smile stuck on your lips.

"Don't shy away from me, I'd like to stare at you too." He whines, coaxing you to look back at him.

Your eyes reach his once again, and you notice how his lips part in a deep gasp, ready to speak

"I'm close," His eyes screwing shut for a moment, "Do you want me to pull out?"

He'd never asked before, it had never been a problem, knowing full well you were on the pill.

"Huh-" You huff, "No"

"Just making sure," He speaks through gritted teeth, "Don't wanna be knocked up with another man's baby."

"Oh be quiet," You scold, realizing how badly you choosing to do this with him while you were with Michael had Joost reeling, obviously getting off on it. Getting off on the fact for what felt like for once in his life, he was the better man, and that he was obviously irreplaceable in your life.

"Fuck, schatje," He grunts, "You okay if I cum now?" Not like there was much of a choice, he didn't really have control over that sort of thing,

"Please," You plead, wanting nothing more than to take him to completion.

With a few sharp thrusts, ones that so deliciously hit that perfect spot inside of you, ones that leave you yelping so loud you're sure the neighbors will hear, Joost is spilling into you. His warm release coats your walls.

The feeling makes you clench, Joost sucking in a sharp breath at the way you grip him with his lingering thrusts. His hips sputter forward, sharply ramming into you, this one final move enough to set off your own expectant orgasm.

"Joost!" Your hands leave his neck, flying down to the bed to grab the comforter below you, gripping it harshly between your fingers for stability. Your whole body is overwhelmed by pleasure, and you begin to loose control, legs shaking, body squirming, noises you couldn't even know you could make leaving your lips. You're a complete mess, probably looking more like you're having an exorcism than having sex. But you can't help yourself, it's all too much, and feels all too good. "I'm-" You can't even finish your sentence before the walls of your pussy begin to flutter, your own release spilling out of you, mixing with Joost's to paint his cock with his few final lazy strokes.

Once your orgasm finally rolls over you, Joost is collapsing onto your chest, the pair of you desperate to catch your breaths. You release your grip from the comforter, fingers sore are you flex them, loosing them from their tightened position.

You know the impending wave of guilt is bound to crash into you at any moment, but at least for now you feel nice, Joost's hot, sweaty body atop you is a comforting weight, despite the way it slows your breathing.

You wrap your arms around his back, his skin sticky with perspiration, but you don't mind the way it feels, only wanting to be close to him. He's not quite ready to pull out of you yet, and you're not ready to let him go, instead both of you opt to enjoy the moment, letting your shallow breaths fill the room with eyes shut tight.

You press a kiss to Joost's forehead, unable to stop yourself from the mildly romantic gesture. It's clear Joost doesn't mind, placing a kiss to your shoulder from where his head lies on you.

After a few more minutes of embracing like this, Joost slowly begins to peel himself off of you. You watch intently as he lifts himself up, hair in every which direction, eyelids low, face heavy with lingering pleasure. You want nothing more than to pull him back down on you and stay like that, but you really need to catch your breath.

Carefully, Joost begins to pull out of you, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation, a strangled whine leaving your throat.

"Sorry," Joost apologizes, finally pulling out of you completely. The way you can feel his release spilling out of you, onto your thighs makes you wince, a filthy reminder of what you had done. Joost most definitely notices the look on your face, backing off of the bed, "Hold on, I'll clean you up."

You assume Joost had run off to the bathroom, coming back a few moments later with a towel, gently patting it between your thighs, careful not to overstimulate you further.

"Gonna go onto the balcony for a smoke" He says, standing back up to redress himself in his underwear, "Want me to close the door behind me so it doesn't get cold in here?"

"It's okay," You sigh, finally having the strength to sit up. Your abdomen and legs are sore, letting you know tomorrow will be a challenge, "Just means you'll have to cuddle me when you get back in."

"Perfectly okay with that," He chuckles before heading to open up to the small balcony on the other side of your room.

A small breeze enters the room as the doors open, and soon the scent of smoke follows. The chill makes you want to hide under the covers, but something is pulling you to go out there with him. You quickly get up from the bed, fighting the cold as you scramble to put on the shirt you had picked out before and a new pair of underwear.

The cold of the outside fully hits you as you step onto the balcony, but it's hard to mind with Joost half-naked in front of you.

"You want a smoke?" He asks

"No, I'm good." You shake your head, "Just wanted to-" Your voice is soft as you wrap your arms around Joost's torso. He's still so warm despite the weather outside. He wraps his free arm behind you, pulling you close to him.

"That's alright," He mumbles into your hair, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You find comfort in the slow thump of your heart, and this way his chest rises and falls each time he takes a drag of his cigarette. You wish things with Joost could be like this all the time, though really you knew this was the calm before the next storm.

It's nice to pretend, though, at least for now. Pretend he's still your boyfriend, and that everything had worked out between the two of you like it should have.

"You alright, liefje? You're being nicer to me than usual." His slight laughter vibrates against your cheek from where it's pressed to your chest, making you snuggle into him.

You know he's joking but it makes you feel a little bad, knowing you can be harsh on him over the smallest things sometimes.

"I don't know," You sigh, overwhelmed with emotion once more, "I think that- I don't know." You repeat, "Confused."

"I am too."

"I'm sorry." You know it's your fault just as much as it is his.

"Me too."

"I think I still love you." You don't think, you know, but you feign like you're unsure to make it less real.

"Schatje," He coos, rubbing his hand over your back.

"Am I crazy to think you might still love me too?"

"Not at all." He presses another kiss to your head, "I know I love you too."

You dread the moment when you'll have to return back to real life, the reality where Joost is nothing more than an ex boyfriend, and you're with Michael- but for now things are good. Joost will wake you up with head in the morning, and after you'll go to that breakfast place you like around the corner, still in your pajamas. The two of you will sit next to each other in the booth, and hold hands under the table before heading home to share a shower together. And inevitably as the day grows later, one of you will make the smallest slip up, say one wrong thing, and you'll be at each others throats again, ending the day crying, finally ignoring each other until its time to repeat the cycle over again.

But that was a problem for tomorrow, right now you're in his arms, and he's telling you how much he still loves you, and you can pretend for just a moment, that maybe, just maybe things will change.

a/n: weeee i wasn't expecting this to get so long XD......... <3 but im so excited to finally get this out... mwah mwah <3... if you're feeling kind, leave a comment or a reblog to let me know what you think! thank you :3

[sbocconichilista]

"But just like Jordan said, it's about being the right fit. And maybe that's what we were. Or weren't."

(WWDITS S6EP4 SPOILERS)

I love this scene. I love seeing Guillermo proving himself at work not just in front of his colleagues, but also with the ones he knows (Nandor in this case), and that's so much more difficult.

Even though this isn't (and i'm gonna make a pretty much obvious statement here) about work. It's about them. It's about Nandor not being able to give Guillermo what he wants. It's about Guillermo not being able to give Nandor what he wants. It's about them not being able to completely commit to one another ("Nandor couldn't make me a vampire, and I can't make him a janitor"). And I know well this is a comedy, that it's not that deep, that this will probably end up in dust and mean nothing, but still I like to imagine that there's a subtle layer about this that suggests a change in the relationship between Nandor and Guillermo.

But that's not just me, is it? Guillermo knows it too. That this is gonna end being about them two and not just about work. He says it just before going to fire Nandor: "...just like Jordan said, it's about being the right fit. And maybe that's what we were. Or weren't." And when Nandor says he's proud of him, that Jordan is right for seeing all Guillermo's qualities, it's because now he aknowledges them too. Nandor knows how special Guillermo is, and for how much his pride wants him to prove himself as superior, as a Master, as a fierce warrior, he can't lie to himself anymore: Guillermo is better than him. And he made Nandor better too.

Guillermo keeps talking about work, that "we, as a company, have to let someone go", but he knows it's not just that. It's him who has to let Nandor go. He tried hard to protect Nandor's feelings and ego, and not just now: he has been Nandor's shield for so long. Now he has to reject him, to push him back. Now he's the sword who stabs him. And this time it's not about a stupid fight, it's not something that will end there and be gone in the next episode. This seems so much more solemn.

Although, this is not the end of it, it's just Guillermo stepping back. This time is Nandor who reaches for Guillermo's hand to shake it (and i mean he LITERALLY does it, no metaphor). Now it's him who has to do a step towards Guillermo.

(Honestly I have so much more to say about this specific scene, but I don't want this ending up being too long, so that's it for now)