#I realized I needed to draw them happy for once but they’re not allowed to be happy yet

[user1286]

W what do I even say anymore THEYVE TAKEN OVER MY MIND I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THEM

ALSNWKD practices n such that’s all these rlly are KSNDDJND

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (2/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

You don’t think your eyes are even able to leave, don’t think that they’re capable of ripping away from the sway of smooth silk-like noir. You notice the sharp up-curve of the nose, the flair of poise in his gaze. His features are tender, yet so sharp… It was like looking at some sort of doll.

You can see his lips part, mouthing words that you can’t seem to make out as he picks up a much smaller box, smile on his face soft with excitement, slowly curling into a laugh that you can’t hear…

And you just can’t help but think how pretty he looks.

There’s curiosity glimmering in your eyes, the uncertainty in the neutral, almost blank look on your face as you’re practically mesmerized by the sight. What sort of feeling is this? Is it normal? Are you meant to feel—

“Pah, it’s just some kid and his parents.” He practically has poison on his tongue, spitting them out with restrained irritation as he sticks his tongue out at the boy. “Bleghhhh, who even needs to look at ‘em, right?” He’s huffing a bit once he sees him disappear into the home, glad that was over and done with, hopping off the stool and chubby hand reaching for your curtain tie to draw them close.

Your eyes don’t need to see him. You have him, right? He looks to you for affirmation, for your compliance—

Only to be met with your silence, body still and eyes stuck onto the drawn curtains— The baby blue of the fabric starting to swirl your mind with perplexing images as your stare turns blank and your eyes go out of focus.

You’re not paying attention to him anymore… And that doesn’t sit quite right with your one and only friend.

He slaps a hand over your eyes, turning your sight dark and obscured and distracted. “Don’t look at him.” You can feel a slight sting from the impact, can feel how warm his hand is against your skin as you reach up to pat at him— To let you see again, please.

“Strangers are dangerous!” You know that. “Has your Mama never taught you that you shouldn’t approach kids you don’t know?!” You can hear the pouting grumbles, can hear how mad he is at the appearance of this supposedly ‘new kid’.

“Satoru…” You’re kind of confused about his behaviour, your words starting to trail off into a tone of uncertainty and slight fear. Does he not realize it?

“I’m a new kid too—“

“Y’er different!” He lets out a huff as he grabs onto your hand, tugging you towards him lightly, telling you to get off. “Don’t ask me to explain, okay!”

And you just blink at him, unintentionally hitting a nerve.

“What, ya wanna be friends with him or something?” He looks offended, a curve of his eyebrows downwards and crossed arms, feet planted themselves firmly into the tatami mats of your floor as you catch what looks suspiciously like the bristling of his hair. “Y’er not allowed to be friends with anyone from this neighbou—“

Your eyebrows furrow. “But he’s not from this neighbourhood— He just moved in, remember?”

“That’s not my point! The idea is that—“

“He’s pretty, though.” An interruption to his little spiel, eyes glancing back at the drawn curtains of your window. Does Satoru not think so too? You didn’t know people could look like that.

“Wha— Well, so am I!” Oh, so Satoru does agree. That’s enough to have you humming slightly, eyes turning into an up-curve and smiling at your friend. You’re glad he agrees. Now you both have one more similarity added to the list.

What was, unbeknownst to you, not similar right now, was his seething irritation as he watches you think about his claim.

“Mm…” Your face grows oddly serious as you slowly step off the stool, your small feet shuffling forwards to better stare at your blue-eyed friend. Your face is close, your toes on the edge as you really lean in to get a closer look, to really look him in the eye now that it’s too dark without the sunlight shining in.

You’ve never given much thought to Satoru’s looks beyond the surface level of ‘cute’.

Your scrutinization of his face leaves him quiet, leaves him to glare and pout back at you despite the close proximity. Like he was imploring you to look all you want, didn’t mind that you were coming this close to inspect the features of his face.

So you take your time to think, to ponder… To really have time to learn about his every characteristic.

You like the way his cheeks always looked full and red, always soft looking and squishy under your touch, liked the way his nose curved upwards at just that certain point and the cute scrunches he always does.

You liked his eyes, the sparkling blue akin to the shimmering ponds reflected by a sunny day, always glittering and shiny when they smiled at you. You liked how his hair, despite the sharp tips and messy styling— Looked purposeful and proper in a cute, rugged way. It suits him.

Every trait, suits him perfectly. You don’t know anybody else who would be able to pull off his looks the way he does, pull off that funny, stuck-up attitude he has… Because it wouldn’t be the same if it wasn’t him.

Maybe you just have an odd sense for beauty, or have an eye set on looking for something else. You think that maybe some people might find him to be, while some not at all. But— That’s not the point now, is it? What’s important now is what you think. You could compare him to many pretty things in the world, the skies for his eyes, the clouds for his hair— It’s not as simple as you think it is.

(And… Which word is better anyway? You can’t exactly ask Mama right now.)

So you close your eyes. What would he be to you if you can’t see him anymore? If you one day lose your sight, lose your only way of seeing the world, how would you remember him?

You think you would remember the way he smells like fabric cleaner, his soft clothing always having the same scent of refreshing chill, of vibrant sun and summer breezes.

You think you would remember how much you like him, how much you love him for being your first friend. A memory that you vow to hold clear in your head no matter how much time passes. You want to keep being his friend, until you’re clapping at his wedding, until you grow old and wrinkly and ugly, until you’re sleeping away in one of those boxes—

You have your answer.

You smile, leaning back so that the balls of your feet are back on solid ground, away from the airiness and lightheaded feel. The best compliment you can give him, the one you think suits him best.

“No.” Your eyes reflect too much light, happy joy and too much satisfaction for him to truly believe you, anticipation drying his lips as he awaits your continuation.

“You’re cute, Satoru. Not pretty.” And he believes you now, as much of the moment you had ruined for him as his pout and staunch attitude grow ever bigger.

“What?!”

Oh. You blink at him, expression taking on another look of blank neutrality and confusion. You thought you had said it pretty loudly. “I said,” You need to take another breath in, trying to project your voice ever louder than before. “You’re cute, Satoru. Not pretty—“

“I heard you the first time!” He’s still in disbelief, pushing up against your face with his own pouting one, getting all up in your face to glare at you.

Was he not satisfied with that answer? You say he’s cute, because he is. The cutest in the— You should apologise if he’s this upset.

“Sorr—“

“Don’t apologise!” He’s grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you back and forth as you just… Let him do it.

“Sorry—“ A glare. You’ll be quiet now… Or do you?

“I would still like you best no matter what, Satoru.”

(“Is that a promise?”)

——

“That sign,” A chubby, almost dainty looking finger points at it. “Ya see? It says it’s Gojo property. Means it’s mine.” His feet are kicking up sand, the creaks of the metal filling your ears as you let yourself tune into his words.

You’d have to remember how to recognize them later.

“Some letters and stuff were also sent out to the neighbourhood to let ‘em know their snotty kids aren’t allowed here.” He looks proud, smug. Bragging away at the fact that this was his playground as he continues to swing himself back and forth, with you sat right next to him on the other seat.

You stare off into the sky, noticing that the clouds looked fluffier, whiter today. More reminiscent of Satoru’s hair, more alike the puff up of his head when he wakes up from a nap beside you.

“And ‘cause ya can’t read yet, you ended up trespassing.”

Signs can’t exactly stop anyone if they can’t read, can they? Or is it your fault you didn’t learn more words?

“Sor— I’ll ask Mama to make more cookies.” You’re trying to apologize less. It’s tough, but you’re making an effort.

“Ya better!” And it goes silent after. It’s not uncomfortable, not one bit. You’ve never really been the type to enjoy talking too much, anyway. You like the silence, like it when it’s just you both, the swings, and the setting sun in the sky. You notice how you can see how the orange starts to glow against your skin, how the pinks in the sky look much lovelier than usual.

You like days like these.

“Oh right.” The creaks still all too suddenly. “I got something for you.” You can see him jump off the swing, letting out a hoot as he kicks sand up and around where he landed, running over to his Digimon backpack to pull out something.

(You think you remember the name of the animal on his bag that he taught you. Agu…Mon? Or something like that.)

You blink maybe 3 times before you’re unceremoniously fed something.

“Now eat!” A plastic spoon is shoved into your mouth before you can even say anything in response— Sweet, creamy and all too soft— Refreshingly cold and melt in your mouth. You can feel your heart turn fuzzy and melty on immediate contact, feel the sugary caramel swoon you into quiet bliss.

“Fufu,” You can practically smell the smirk in his words. “You only ever eat those cheap 3-pack puddings, right?” His smile… Looks too tight. Too forced, even. You’ve never seen him smile like this before.

“Nobody else in this place would ever be able to buy stuff like this regularly.” And he’s harrumphing, stuffing a scoop of the pudding into his own mouth in triumph and pride, a testament to the riches he can access.

You think he’s right. These cream-filled pudding cups are definitely the first you’ve seen of them—

“So you should only be my friend.” He stops chewing, stops shovelling pudding into both of yours and his mouths the moment he says that, eyes determinedly flicking from the ground up to meet yours. “You don’t need anyone else, okay?”

You think you can feel something bitter in his tone, something clinging on hyperventilating anxiousness and all-too practiced poise. It feels like he’s trying to say something he’s too embarrassed to admit, too scared to say.

If I keep buying you delicious things you’ll stay, right?

You have to remember to blink to bring yourself back into reality, your cheeks still stuffed to its capacity with caramel pudding, have to pinch your skin to really realize what he just said to you. What? Just what kinda relationship depends only on giving things to keep people as friends?

You think that’s dumb.

“But, Swatoru… Iw’m not being your friwend jwust cause—“ You’re hurrying to swallow your food, covering your mouth just to be polite like Mama taught you as your eyes catch the way his hands were starting to stiffen. “Just because you give me stuff.”

He waits for you to finish for once, all narrowed eyes, furrowed eyebrows and inquiring gaze.

“I’m your friend ‘cause I like you.” And you’re smiling, tapping at your mouth to feel the sweet stickiness left behind, humming slightly as your head tilts downwards when you feel up your pockets— To realize it’s not there.

(You forgot to bring the handkerchief Mama always makes you tout around. You now realize… How right she really is about its usefulness. You won’t doubt her ever again.)

“Satoru? Do ya have a hanky I can have?”

What you haven’t noticed was that your words have him freezing up, his face turning into an absolute mess of embarrassed cherry red, his body reeling away from you.

“Y-you’re stupid.” It’s all he can muster as his lips start to tremble, his words sounding like he was shivering. “And dumb!”

And all you remember is how hurriedly he had poured every last bit of remaining pudding into his mouth in retaliation.

(“Ah… I wanted more, Satoru.” You have a frown on your face, eyes showing a blank, slightly disappointed show. He uses your hanky to wipe his mouth, rubbing the cloth against his lips as he listens to you. “It was really good…”

He does feel kind of bad now.

“…sorry.” And it’s cute, the way his eyes have shifted to the side and the tips of his ears burning red, whispered apology under his breath that the wind whistled into your ears.

He won’t admit it.)

——

“Young Master Gojo, you will have the opportunity to talk to (name)-sama again soon. Master expects you to be home for the gathering as soon as possible.”

“You can’t approach him! Remember that!” The door of the sleek, black limousine shuts; fully obscuring your view of your friend as the servant lady— Kimiko-san, as you’ve learned her name to be, bows before you in a curt goodbye.

“Thank you for keeping the young master company today as well, (name)-sama.”

They dropped you off home.

The vroom of the engine picks up as you keep waving at the vehicle, your goodbye not being unseen as a certain milk-haired individual rushed towards the window.

You see his face pressed up against the glass, squishing his full cheeks to the surface as he points at you— And waves his pinky about.

A reminder, if you will. And you do the same in response.

“Sweetie,” Mama pats your head from behind, a sign to usher you inside now that the sun was on the verge of disappearing, the sky blanketed in dark blues and the street lamps flickering to life.

“The new neighbours moved in today.” There’s the clatter of some of the groceries she had just bought onto the table, a carton of milk, half a head of lettuce, carrots, potatoes— Tonight’s dinner is curry.

“I saw them.” You’re crawling up onto the wooden dining chair, unloading the reusable grocery bag as you hear her bring out the pot. “They have a pretty kid.”

“Do they?” You can hear the smile, the chuckle in her tone as she acknowledges you, the shuffle and crinkle of plastic in her hands as she starts to prepare dinner. “Then I hope they’re nice people.”

“Me too.” Even if you’re not allowed to approach them, you carefully descend from the chair that was just too tall for you to easily get off of, the considerably lighter items; a chocolate bar and a sponge huddled in your hands, your feet on the way to the fridge before—

You notice a sweet tartness in the air— Wafting to your nose as you take an inhale in. Oh, Mama smells nice today. Not— Artificial nice, but normal, nice. She smells like honey and vanilla, light and easy on your nose.

“You smell nice, Mama.” You’ve never been one to voice this out but… It seems that you’re just in a talkative mood today. In a mood to share your happiness. Just because.

The decisive chopping of potatoes and carrots stiffen, yet the boiling of water continues. “…is that so, sweetheart?” Her hands tensing just that little bit more as she continues on. The clacks against the wooden chopping board grow less erratic… Slow, uncertain.

Worried.

“Mhm. Didya stop by the bakery just now?” She really, really smells good. And you can see her visibly relax at that, her shoulders slumping as she lets out… A quiet sigh of relief?

(Did you say something bad?)

“I figured you would like some bread for tomorrow.” She’s back to normal. “Eating cereal all the time is bad for you, so I bought you some bread and cheese.”

“Yay! Thank you, Mama!”

Dinner passed by too quickly, too much so that you find yourself laying upon the tatami mats of your bedroom in a blink of an eye, futon yet to be rolled out, the sound of Mama preparing the bath downstairs and your tummy full of warm curry as you sigh— Life is good.

Too good, in fact. You’re starting to get suspicious— Starting with those new neighbours you just got today. You’re curious, you really are.

The window opposite to yours— That would be the rooms of one of them right? You remember a gait of confidence from his Mama, his own Papa not lagging in that aspect either. So… Which one would have that room? Does he sleep by himself? That would be so brave of him.

(Even you struggle to sleep alone… By yourself… In a dark room… You feel a shiver down your spine just thinking about it.)

Your curtains are still drawn, the room that you shared with Mama lit only by your dim ceiling light. She says she’s gonna replace the bulb soon, if you remember correctly.

So… It— Would be fine, right? You’re not approaching or interacting with him. If they were to spot you they won’t have a clear view due to the light. So technically, this counts as safe, no? Innocuous, even. You just want to see who occupies that vey room— That was directly opposite of your own.

Curiosity kills cats, or something like that. But you aren’t a cat, so it obviously doesn’t apply to you. You won’t die.

So you take the chance, grabbing hold of the fabric… Should you really be doing this? You’re unsure, uncertain. And it makes you really, really nervous. It feels like the scratchy material of your curtains were pricking into your skin as you ball up the fabric, taking a gulp… Just one peek. One is enough.

So you steel yourself, swallowing your fear and powering through your nerves. It’s just a quick peek, one glance— Get it over and done with already!

Your eyes catch bright light, the colour temperature warm and inviting. Cozy. You see curtains that were drawn open, but not just any fabric— The fancy type, with pretty lace and a neat ribbon. Pretty…

But that wasn’t the main focus.

What was, was the little boy that had already been staring at your curious little self, purple eyes widened in surprise and mouth already turning into a smile when he catches sight of you.

“Ah! You really did peek out!”

You’ve been noticed.

You squeak, ducking down and away from the window immediately. Oh no. Oh no no no no. This was not the plan at all. Not how you thought this would go! You’re panicking, using the curtains to hide your face away. Just pretend you’re not here, that you were just a figment of his imaginati—

“Oh—“ You can hear him slap a hand over his mouth. “Sorry for yelling.” His words come out hushed, quietened now.

“Did I scare you?”

You have a promise to keep. You’re not about to break it to have a conversation with a window stranger, no matter how pretty he is. At least now, you know your windows are close enough to be able to communicate. If that were any useful information at all.

“That was rude of me, wasn’t it? My Mama would scold me for that.” You think he just attempted to make a joke. A lighthearted attempt.

But… No, he’s not rude at all. You’re the one who should be apologizing for hiding away from him like this, basically ignoring him on purpose. You’re not a rude kid, you swear you’re not. Mama raised you to be better than this— But a promise is a promise.

��My name is Geto Suguru, I just moved in today!” Something about that cheery tone in his voice, the mirth in his words has you feeling guilty, sad.

Yet you don’t reply. You can’t hear him anymore— Why’s it so quiet? Is he waiting for a reply, a sign that you were still listening?

You can’t exactly tell him you made a promise against him—!

So you choose to continue the silence, letting it stretch over the growing awkwardness as you huddle in on yourself.

“It would be nice to meet you.”

Would be. Is he trying to bait you out?

“Suguru! The bath is free!” A distant call from within his home, the feel of a night breeze starting to flutter your curtains as you grip onto them for dear life.

“Oh, coming! Well… I hope we get to talk properly soon. Sorry for scaring you, by the way.” Taps of feet against the carpets of his floors as he patters away— He should be gone now, right?

But… You learned something about the neighbour today. That he was… Unexpectedly really nice. Too nice, even. You feel your conscience gnawing at you, feel guilt grip at your heart.

Mama would not be proud of you for this. Not that you’re gonna tell her, anyway.

(Geto… Suguru, huh?)

——

You don’t meet them again— Until the next afternoon, that is.

You usually check the area for anyone outside the door before you go up open it, you swear that you really do. To go pick up mail from the mailbox, receiving Mama’s delivery items… The area has to be clear before you even dare to step a foot outside.

But not today. You weren’t careful enough to cover your tracks at all.

“Well, hello there!” A lady with black hair tied into a bun and the prettiest purple eyes you’ve ever seen. She’s bright, energetic… And really tall. Taller than Mama. “I’ve only met your mother just this morning, you know? She told me about you!”

She’s really chatty.

“I’m Geto Akari, sweetheart. It’s nice to meet you!”

Introduce yourself introduce yourself introduce yourself—

“…(last name) (name)…” You hope you’re loud enough. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, adjusting the mail that you were holding to be more in line with each other— Less messy. You don’t want to leave the impression of being so, after all.

She spots the white of the papers that you were clutching to your chest, hugging the envelopes near as you blink up at her. “Running some errands for your mother, sweetheart?”

“Mm.” It’s all you can do, really. Just nod and agree as you stare up at her with a stiff expression.

Smile, you should smile. You need to remember to smile.

“Well, aren’t you quite responsible for someone so young! How old are you, darling?” It’s in a coo, a sweetened tone to her voice when she’s bending down slightly to look— Less imposing to you.

“I’m 4.”

“Why, that’s the same age as my son, haha!” She sounds excited— Sounds like she was happy to know about this information as she claps her hands together. “How coincidental!”

She’s so nice.

“Morning, (last name)-san!” You see a face pop out from directly behind her, nearly jumping out of your skin as you feel your heart miss a beat, finding his eyes that were glittering with excitement.

Geto Suguru.

He must’ve heard you just now—

“Suguru, that was rude! You have to introduce yourself before calling for others!” Her hand goes down to ruffle his shoulder-length hair as he laughs.

It makes you almost want to reply—

You slap a hand over your mouth before you even begin to say anything back. Eyes darting back and forth between your home, the front door, them— You think you remember Mama mumbling about gifts last night. You should give them something— Anything. Mama would want you to be polite.

An idea.

Your gaze flickers to her eyes as she tilts her head to the side in confusion, to her son that was still awaiting… So you just nod.

Before turning on your heel to run into the kitchen, climbing onto the stool to grab the last few cookies Mama had made yesterday— Which you were saving for both yourself and Satoru, by the way.

It’s for the best, you decide. TV people did always say that sacrifices are to be made for the grater good. Whatever a grater is, anyway.

(And while you may not have the best penmanship of… Anything yet— Considering you’re only 4. But you’re gonna try, at the very least.

WeL-chum n i hoPe we get aLonG! (Welcome and I hope we get along!) )

“Oh. Welcome back, sweetie!” She smiles at you once more. “I thought you got scared of us and ran away, haha.”

You don’t reply— Only holding up the note and individually wrapped cookies up towards her, doing your best not to look at the excited little boy next to her.

“Woah! Cookies!”

“Well… Aren’t you just so precious!” She’s practically swooning at this point, patting your head gently as you blink. “Looking at you already made me contemplate wanting a daughter, now you’re really pushing me to try for one!”

Please don’t. It would be harder to avoid 2 kids instead of 1.

“Thank you so much— Ah, don’t leave yet!” She’s already making you stop as she herself starts to rush back in her home, ushering her son along with her as you hear the commotion from inside.

“Mom, let’s give her this one!”

“I think those aren’t fresh, Suguru— Oh, how about these?”

“Wouldn’t it just be better to just—“

You tune them out, standing at the front of your house and swaying back and forth on the balls of your feet as you twiddle your fingers and look up towards the afternoon sun.

It would’ve been a good day to air out the futons, Mama would say.

“Ah—! Sorry for the wait, darling! Here you go!” It’s a plastic bag— A size that would be comfortable for your toddler self to drag in without much trouble… If it didn’t look like the items inside were gonna burst out of it.

“It’s for the both of you! I hope you’ll enjoy it!”

You only nod in thanks, smiling up at her slightly as you see her practically bite back a squeal, rubbing your head with held-back enthusiasm as her son… Smiles back at you.

And when you finally close the door behind you and take your shoes off at the genkan—

You think you feel some variation of guilt course through you as you look down at the strawberries you just received— Big, fresh… And really tasty looking.

They are too kind to someone like you. You drag it in, placing the plastic packaging carefully upon the lowest tier of the fridge that you can reach— Before bolting towards the phone.

Climbing up the stool to reach the phone, you grab hold of it as you start to dial the numbers you had memorized— Only just recently.

You hear the telltale ringing, awaiting his voice. It’s urgent, it really is. Your heart is starting to beat too fast, tummy feeling like it was churning the bread and milk from this morning too quickly… You’ve never even called anyone that wasn’t your Mama before.

Were you being too hasty with this?

“You have reached the Gojo estate. How may I assist with your enquiries?” You practically freeze where you stood, a socked foot nearly making you slip against the plastic stool as your breath hitches. You don’t recognise this voice. You don’t know who the man answering this phone was. He’s too old, much too fancy sounding compared to your Satoru.

He said Gojo estate… So you didn’t call the wrong number, right?

You think you’re starting to breathe heavily into the phone to calm your nerves— Making them the only sound before you even make a move to greet the person on the other end.

“…sorry, but the colour of my—“

“Can I… Talk to Satoru please?” You practically blurt it out with unpracticed anxiety, twirling the phone cord tight between your fingers as you try to calm yourself.

“Ah.” It seems that they understood. Thank goodness. “Please excuse my rudeness, but is that you, (name)-sama?”

“Yes…” No matter how pretentious that title sounds to you.

“Please wait just a moment.”

“(name)! Do ya wanna play today?! I bought a new puddi—“

“Satoru,” You practically sound breathless with relief when you hear his voice, but you have to tell him, you just have to. “I met the new kid just now.”

And that silences him in an instant.

“I didn’t say anything to him.” As rude as you may be. “His Mama saw me outside and talked to me first, though.”

Silence that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

(“Haha!” You hear him laugh, it’s bellowing, taunting and all too amused. “Why would I be mad? Ya ignored the kid right?!”

“Good job!”

And you feel satisfied.)

——

“(last name)-san.” His smile is ever courteous, ever polite and soft. It makes your heart melt, if you were to be honest. “Wanna play together?”

“I brought my crayons and some paper, since I thought you would like it.” Was it because of your note? Regardless, this was— A really bad time. A really, really bad time.

“(nameeeeee)! Why’d ya ignore me for the door—!” Oh no.

You didn’t predict that today would be the very day that they met— Swear you didn’t plan or foresee this. It was only this morning that you had heard your zodiac sign might be unlucky today, how troubles and tribulations may come swimming your way to stir the path of your future, only just this morning that you decided that that kind of thing was just another folly…!

You didn’t know it was going to be right?!

“Your hair’s ugly.”

“I don’t like your eyes.”

“Yea?! Ya wanna go, Weird Bangs?!”

“Not with the likes of you, Bug Eyes.”

“Haah?!”

With you cramped in between them, no less. You call it sheer, dumb luck that you were able to invite your neighbour inside without too much of a fuss. Get them to sit around you in your living room as you all… Draw.

Geto’s crayons are scattered about, the drawing block papers starting to fill with a myriad of colourful shapes as you hum and try to keep the peace between the two of them.

“Mama says that fighting is bad.” You think so too, honestly. What’s the point to them? It’s easier to keep the peace and be friends with each other.

“Sorry, (last name)-san.”

“Hmph!”

At least they’re settled down now.

“What are you drawing?” It’s Geto that was sitting cross-legged next to you as you’re lying on your front, legs kicked up and elbows propped against the ground to support your head as he watches your hands move.

And that has Satoru peeking over as well, much to his dismay.

“Don’t draw him—“ And he’s already huffing, puffing his cheeks and pouting when he sees you colour in black and dot in purple. He notices the telltale signs of the kimono he wore when he first met you, able to make out the figures you’re drawing in record time. Good. It’s good that you’re drawing him and you together, but he doesn’t want that thing with you both.

And that has him picking up a red crayon, catching your attention when you see him readying himself to scribble all over your hard work.

“W-wait, Satoru—“ You try to push him back, hold him away from the colourful drawing of yours. You don’t want it ruined, don’t want him to do something to it yet. I-it’s important to you, something you spent your time on, he can’t—

“She said she didn’t want you drawing on the paper.” Suguru’s grip on his wrist is tight, squeezing with a strength that was unprecedented for someone his size.

And you think you can feel something change in the air, the tension building, it’s bitter, unpleasant— Has you feeling like you want to curl into a ball and cry. A churn in your gut that you’re all too familiar with when you were living together with your Papa.

A warning. One that even children like them, like you; can interpret loud and clear even without having known the existence of pheromones and warning growls.

They say natures are inherent, after all.

“She’s my friend. I don’t get why you’re interfering, dummy.” He snarls back with just as much underlying aggression, stirring something in you to want to lie low— Disappear, even.

And you think that maybe you should listen to those zodiac sign forecasts a lot more.

previous masterlist next

[lymtw]

We Can’t Be Friends

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Content: slight NSFW

Content Warnings: 18+, suggestive language, cursing, pet names (baby, princess, unestablished relationship -> established relationship, Gojo just being mad lovey dovey, marks (they smashed and Gojo dug his nails in like a cat), kissing

Word Count: 1.4k

Description: Gojo and Reader are pals who have never indulged in anything sexual until now. This first time between them changes the course of their friendship. Tadaaaa I don’t know how to write descriptions but it’s friends-loversss

Satoru couldn’t look away from you for a second. It was still mind blowing that you let your guard down for once and it was with him. You allowed him to touch you and confided your needs with him, and after all was said and done, you fell asleep on his bed.

The sheets were wrapped around your lower half, you bare chest against his bed. Satoru's nails traveled the expanse of your back and down the bumps of your spine, occasionally straying from the column to draw unrecognizable shapes on your skin. He gently brushed the magenta colored crescents that he left on your waist.

Satoru leaned back against the headboard of the bed, his eyes unmoving from your peaceful image. The little breaths that left your pretty lips made him happy, and he listened until the sound was controlled by your consciousness.

“Mm… why are you awake?” Your voice was slightly raspy, sleep embedded into it. You feel his hand retract from your back, the realization of you being naked hitting you like a train wreck. It didn’t matter anyway. He had already seen and touched every inch of you. There was nothing to hide from him anymore.

“No way I was gonna go to sleep while you were out. I had to make sure the princess was comfortable.” He grinned, boyishly.

You were still too dazed to get on him about calling you princess. Still, you didn’t want to lay there alone. You never thought you’d admit it, but you missed the skin-to-skin contact with him.

You brought the sheets higher up your body to cover your chest and sat up next to him.

“Lay with me.” Your tone is soft. You rest your chin on his shoulder, your body leaning against him.

“You’re being very affectionate. Is this a test?”

You kiss his shoulder, then move closer to his chest, slowly creeping towards his neck.

“Yeah, okay, i’ll lay with you.”

You smile as you adjust yourself onto your side, watching him as he slowly slides down the bed, turning onto his side to face you.

“How did we even get to this point?” You ask, your gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips.

“You have to admit, i’m very charming.” He winks, playfully.

You look away at his pillow, some sort of disappointment shown in your expression. Not at his response, but at what is unknown about the shift in your relationship with Gojo. He picks up on it and instantly tries to earn your attention back.

“We have a lot of trust in each other and this was another act of trust. I think that’s the best way we can put it.” He successfully gets your eyes back on his.

Your hand caresses his face, cupping his cheek and gently brushing your thumb across it. “Did it mean anything to you?”

He has wanted to be intimate with you this way for too long. There’s just never been a right moment, especially since you wouldn’t quit seeing him as just one of your guy friends.

“It did to me. What about you?”

He knew your answer just by the way you touched him so delicately.

“I think so.”

There’s a moment of silence, just longing stares from both of you. There is no distance, yet it feels like you’re across the room from each other. Just two people who walked up to the gates of hell and opened them. Walking in voluntarily, hand in hand.

“What will the others say?” You murmur.

His hand goes to your hip, squeezing comfortingly.

“It shouldn’t matter. They’re not the ones dying to kiss you all the time.”

You giggle, face going red at the admission. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I let you do things to me.”

“You let me fuck you,” he quickly corrects, “and pretty well by the looks of it.”

“God, you’re so vulgar. You ruined the moment.”

“No, no! I mean, you trusted me with your pleasure. We made love.”

You could see the way his eye twitched slightly with every coat of sugar he put on the sentence to refine it.

“If it’s not you, it’s not you.” You drop your hand onto his shoulder, patting it in comfort. “You wanna say we fucked, say we fucked. Don’t make yourself uncomfortable when you went out of your way to make sure I was fine.”

“Look at you trying to carve my heart out of my chest. Too bad it’s already been stolen,” he pauses, dramatically. “By you.”

“Oh. My. God.” He thinks you’re about to swoon over this word vomit. “You’re such a cornball!” You burst out laughing, uncontrollably. “H-How many people has this worked on?”

“Just you, and i’m pretty sure it’s working.” He takes in this image of you, engraving it into his mind. Things can never be so terrible when all he has to do is think about you. This is a core memory for him. Your eyes are watering from the nonstop laughter, no one else is there to witness it. It’s beautiful, and he’ll never forget it.

“God, that was a good laugh. I need to catch my breath.” You use the palm of your hand to wipe away any remaining wetness on your face.

Gojo pulls you closer to him, his hand still resting on your hip. The silence returns and the intimacy is raised.

“I want to make you laugh like that all the time.” Goosebumps rise over the skin beneath his hand, the contact feeling ticklish. “I want more time with you like this, away from our friends.” He stares at your lips, so tempting when he’s trying to pour his heart out to you. “I want privacy with you. I want to hold your hand in public and I want to be able run into your arms dramatically after the shortest amount of time of not seeing you.”

“What?” You blink, entranced by how open and sincere he’s being.

“It would not feel right to wake up tomorrow morning as your friend. Not after tonight.”

“Please be more clear about what you’re hinting at, Satoru.” You can read into everything he’s said to you for as long as you want but nothing will confirm what he means like a clear definition from him.

“I actually thought I was being crystal clear, but sure.” He chuckles. “I want to be your man.”

“You want to be my man?” You crack again, this time in surprise more than amusement.

“Sure do. Would you like to be my lady?”

You stayed quiet to build the suspense, but your heart had already made a decision.

“And you really don’t care about what others will say. What if people start whispering? Gossip derives from things like this.”

“We’ll be as open about our relationship as possible. Tell them we have sex, and kiss, and sleep in the same bed.”

Your eyebrows furrow in disbelief. “Actually?”

“No, not actually, pretty girl.” He flicks your forehead. “That’s for us to know, and for them to assume. All we have to do is just come clean about our relationship.” He smooths out the crease between your brows. “There’s no need for drama where there isn’t any, and I will have your back all the time, as usual. Anyone has a problem, they can catch these hands.”

You sigh, your mind put at ease due to his words.

“Fine, I’m your lady.” Curling into him feels a little more natural now. You feel secure, and you don’t have to worry about your affection being wasted.

“I now pronounce us the new Bonnie and Clyde.”

“They were criminals.” You laugh, enjoying the gleam in his eyes.

“I would commit so many crimes for you.” He presses his forehead against yours, eyes never leaving yours.

“I would never ask you to do something like that,” you murmur. “That’s asking to get you taken from me.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind, just say the word.”

You giggle, kissing all over his face, before planting a deep kiss on his lips. You lay on his chest, looking up into his eyes, in need of him.

“Those eyes are dangerous,“ he says. “Tell me what you want.” His thumb traces your lips.

“I want you all over me.” You bring his palm to your lips, kissing repeatedly. “Smother me, do anything. Just don’t let me go.”

He sits up and flips you over so that you are now on your back. “Anything for you.”

[sunlightandsuffering]

The crazy Sacrilege fan here ! I LOVE THAT DRABBLE MIKASA IS SUCH AN UNHINGED FREAK I ADORE HER THANK YOU LYS THANK YOU !!! And Eren cares about her , « might even love her, just a little » LMFAO MR COP IS SO BUSTED !! If I may ask, how do you think they would react to a pregnancy scare ? I think crazy ass Mika might even like it, think it’s the Lord’s Will for them to be with child . Eren is head over heels for his little gf so he woudn’t mind giving her a child but he doesn’t want her to regret it later, she needs to go to college and start a career first!

AHAHAHA OMG ILY !!!! 💗💗 ur so funny lol!!! THEY'RE BOTH UNHINGED THO AND THAT'S WHAT WE LOVE THEM FOR, THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING CHAOS !!!!

omg okay, i can totally see this going like both ways, mostly bc I'm so anti religion bc of how much fucking shit it can create. So me, being a little shit, i'd love to go against the grain here and have Mikasa just be pRO CHOICE GIRLY !! Altho I do think she'd be like a little thrilled to have a child with Eren lol. LETS WRITE IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!! bro tell me why they're so cute tho i like this drabble lol

Mikasa stares at the pregnancy test blankly, head knocked back against the bathroom cabinet of Eren’s apartment. Two little red lines to seal her fate, she should be thrilled.  

She isn’t. 

Contrary to her mother and every other girl in her church, Mikasa feels nothing but dread, cold, inescapable dread and suffocation. Because yes, a baby is cute, a baby is sweet, a baby would be the perfect embodiment of her and Eren’s love. They’d be the picture perfect happy family, the one people see on instagram, and she could be a stay at home mom and do all that ridiculous mom-fluencer stuff she sees.

The entire idea makes Mikasa want to throw up, and she’s not so sure it’s the pregnancy, because she isn’t that far along at all yet. 

She slumps, dropping the test to the floor beside her and blinking back stubborn tears, she wonders if this is God’s plan. Because surely, it must be? She wouldn’t be pregnant if it wasn’t His will. Hell, she’s already gone against the church by using birth control, condoms and the pill. 

So there’s really no other way she could have possibly gotten pregnant, right? Nothing else other than pure divine intervention would have allowed this. 

Mikasa sniffles meekly, a tear sleeping down her cheek despite her attempts not to cry and she wipes it away with her sleeve. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she crumples in on herself because what the fuck is she going to do? She’s not married, not yet at least, not in school yet –will probably have to drop out now actually– and her parents will most certainly withdraw what little support they were willing to provide her. She can hear it now, they’re going to call her sweet little baby a bastard, the church will gossip, her youth group will turn on her, and the pastor will look at her with eyes full of disgust at every turn. The tears flow faster now, slipping down her cheeks freely, and before she realizes it, she’s sobbing alone in Eren’s apartment bathroom, utterly alone. 

And there’s that too, isn’t there, how Eren will react. She doesn’t know, doesn’t want to lose him, but what if it’s too soon? Eren isn’t that old, only 24 and still working his way up in the force, he probably doesn’t want a baby yet either. 

He’s certainly never talked about it, and it has Mikasa tearing up all over again, because she’s going to lose him, and her parents again all at once. And she can’t lose him, she just can’t, she loves him. What had started as pure angsty rebellion had turned into love so quickly she doesn’t even know when it started. But he’s so supportive, hot, and so fucking good for her if she thinks about it, had told her just to fucking move in when her parents had gotten fussy over their break-up. He’d shrugged like it was no big deal, “Don’t worry about rent, Mika, just as long as you sleep in my bed.” Then, he’d left for work with a wink, and Mikasa for the first time in her life had real fucking independence, the very thing she’d been yearning for, begging for when he’d fucked her on that alter. 

And now here she is, about to lose it all again, her shackles renewed by the responsibility of a child and all the pressures that come with being a mom before she’s financially ready or responsible in the slightest. 

There is a click outside and Mikasa inhales sharply, glancing at her watch, because how long has she been in this bathroom moping? It’s 9:00 am on the dot, Eren is home, having just gotten off an overnight shift, and she can already hear him stomping around, seeking her out. “Mikasa,” He calls, and she slaps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet, for what she doesn’t know, he’ll find her eventually. “Baby where are you, I can see your shoes by the door, come out.” She doesn’t, fear paralyzes her, this agony of what to do, to tell him, not to tell him, to just run away and give it up for adoption, show up again in nine months and hope he doesn’t hate her. But Eren is a cop, surely he’d find her no matter where she went? And he does, just like he’d find her if she ran away, sweeping the apartment methodically before coming to the bathroom door, just off his bedroom. 

He knocks, “Miki, what are you doing?” She doesn’t answer, just grabs the pregnancy test, holds it closer as the two positive red lines blur together, tears flowing freely again. It takes Eren one attempt, one fucking shot to jimmy the lock open, and he’s leaning against the door frame like an avenging angel as he looks her over. He’s terrifying, clad in his police uniform, black cargo pants with so many pockets and that tight long sleeve shirt that goes under his body armour. 

He quirks a brow up at her as he notices her tears, eyes scanning her over, and she can pinpoint the exact moment he notices the pregnancy test, his teeth coming down to bite into his lip, his only nervous tic. “So,” He asks casually, “Pregnant?” She nods meekly, a sob working its way up her throat, all she can think to do is apologize, because obviously it’s her fault, “I’m so sorry Eren.” 

She should have never slept with him, never disobeyed God like this, it’s her punishment, and she just spirals, ugly crying in her boyfriend’s bathroom at 8 am on a wednesday. “Oh Miki no, it takes two, okay,” Eren half laughs as he kneels down next to her, tucking a strand of hair out of her eyes. He wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, cupping her face with more love and affection than she’s ever known in her life, “It was definitely more me if I recall correctly, in the back of my squad car, in the kitchen,” He smirks, looking down at her, “Yesterday morning in the shower.” Mikasa smacks him for that, choking out a laugh, “Stop it, I’m sad right now.” Eren chuckles, sitting down next to her and grabbing her hand with the pregnancy test to look at it himself. “You don’t have to be sad Miki, it doesn’t have to be a big thing you know.” 

She leans into him, her head on his shoulder as she thinks about it, “Eren I’m gonna get huge and fat, it’s definitely gonna be a thing and people are definitely going to notice.” He bumps her with his shoulder lightly, “Nah you’d be cute pregnant, and fuck,” He groans as if he’s thinking about it, “Your tits would definitely get even better.” Mikasa gasps, smacking his arm again, and before she can stop him he’s going in for a squeeze that has her yelping because yeah, she’s already a little more sensitive. He smirks, more smug than he has any right to be in this situation, ten minutes ago she was crying her eyes out. 

“So does this mean you want it, then, that you’ll support me?” Mikasa asks hopefully and Eren squeezes her thigh, looking down at her with more intensity than she knew him capable of, “Mikasa of course I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do, this would be my kid too.” He pauses and Mikasa waits, looking up at him earnestly, ready to accept whatever else he has to say, because he’s Eren and he so obviously loves her. “I know it’s a little taboo in the church community, but have you thought about getting an abortion?” Mikasa cracks, heaving out a great sob, and before she knows it she’s in Eren’s lap with him shushing her as she whispers all her fears into his neck, “You don’t want it, you’re lying you just- you just want to appease me and –” “Mikasa,” Eren kisses his way up her neck, voice right at her ear, “I’m not lying, but look at me.” He cups her chin roughly, tilting her head up so she’s forced to look into those pretty green eyes, “Baby you’re in school, you haven’t even started yet, and I’ve heard you, fuck baby I’ve heard you talk about school so many times and how much you want to be a nurse.” He leans down, so their foreheads touch, and he leans into her, “And as much as I’d love to see you pregnant, how fucking pretty you’d be, cute as hell waddling around my house knocked up with my fucking kid, it would also suck a lot because I know Mikasa that you’d be miserable, would be delaying your dreams for several years at the very fucking least and I could never ask you to do that.” Mikasa inhales shakily, relaxing into him now, the hand on her thigh, the other at the nape of her neck, how warm and solid he is against her, Eren. 

She tilts her head up for a kiss, something soft, chaste, comfort. 

He kisses her softly, all gentle affection, his hand rubbing over her thigh to keep her calm and when she pulls back she’s calmer, more stable in his arms. 

“Is it allowed?” She whispers, almost nervously, afraid she’ll be shot down by the universe at the mere suggestion. Eren laughs, his hand drifting up to her hip to tug her closer in his lap, “Of course it’s allowed Mikasa, no one has to know we have free health care you know, we’ll just you know, schedule you an appointment, I don’t think it’s that hard.” “Really?” she mumbles, “Just like that?” “I think so, I mean obviously I haven’t had one, but I don’t think it’ll be that difficult, we can call in a minute.”

“Okay,” she mumbles and Eren kisses her again, nipping her cheek as he demands her attention, “But I want to know you’re doing it for you, not because of me or anything else, this has to be your decision Mikasa and I’m just along for the ride.” She sighs, “I think you’re right, I just didn’t want to be the one to say it, but before you got here all I could think about was how much it was going to fuck up my life.” Eren gasps, and she looks up, suddenly afraid, does he think she’s disgusting, a worthless human being because of it? His eyes are alight with amusement, “You swore, what a naughty little church girl you are.” 

She smacks him and violently, which has him cackling, and he uses his leverage to go in for another kiss, which she accepts gratefully. “As long as it’s your decision Mikasa, I don’t care, hell I kind of agree, I’m not sure if I’d be a great dad right now, I’m too selfish. I wanna keep you to myself for as long as I can.” Mikasa laughs, “Then maybe we’d better start using better protection.” “Yeah, we’re also scheduling you for an IUD appointment, because fuck are you bad at taking those pills.” She winces, “I took it this morning.” Eren looks at her in disbelief, “Miki you’re already pregnant.” “Well, I tried not to be,” She tells him poutily and Eren pinches her waist, “You did a shit job.” “We just agreed it was your fault!” 

Eren smiles deviously, “Yeah it is, and it’s about to be my fault again.” 

He yanks her down against him, a devilish gleam in his eyes, and she can feel his very obvious erection right against the soft of her cunt, separated only by the thin layer of her pyjama pants. 

“Have you been hard the entire time?” “I’m not a monster, just since you swore, it just does things to me, it’s not my fault, really it’s yours.” “Oh my God,” Mikasa groans, and she can feel Eren below her, grinding her down against his cock, that guilty look on his face, “Holy fuck does it turn you on when I’m like bad?” “Is that blasphemous of me?” 

“God yes,” She tells him and then she’s kissing him, because no one else but Eren Yeager has ever made being bad feel so good.

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 30: Smut Themed Sentence Starters

I ended up using two sentences: "Who needs a sleigh ride when I can ride you instead" and "Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Tags: Established Relationship, Implied Smut, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Eddie Munson Is A Menace, Steve Harrington Is A Romantic

wc: 1345 | Rating: M

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve is a hopeless romantic.

Always has been and probably always will be.

Eddie pretends to hate it, but Steve knows the truth. That under all that leather and loud music is a giant teddy bear who swoons every time Steve shows up with a fresh bouquet of flowers or a pack of his favorite cigarettes from Melvalds.

Everyone else may be fooled, but not Steve.

Which is why Steve has to pull out all the stops for their first winter together as a couple.

He set the bar high last year when they were just friends and now he has to top it. Not because Eddie’s expecting it or anything, but because he wants to. Eddie deserves it. And honestly, so does Steve.

After watching hours of romantic holiday movies and driving around the local towns to see what winter activities they have to offer, Steve draws up the plan. He rents a small cabin two towns over where the snow is already two feet deep with more on the way and buys tickets to all the fun events the town has to offer. Well, almost all of the events. Ice skating is out of the question after last year’s incident left them both battered, bruised, and so sore they could barely get out of their own beds for the Hopper-Byers New Year’s Eve party.

So far, the vacation is everything Steve hoped it would be. They’ve played in the snow, eaten the best apple pie he’s ever gotten his hands on, and strolled around town whispering judgments about the over-the-top Christmas decorations people have outside their houses. They’ve also made themselves comfortable in the cabin — breaking in the bed and the couch and maybe even the indoor hot tub once or twice.

But today is the real showstopper. The grand finale to their little winter weekend getaway and the entire reason Steve booked this place in the first place.

They’re going on a reindeer-pulled sleigh ride through the picturesque snowy terrain of the town.

Or at least they’re supposed to be going on a reindeer-pulled sleigh ride.

“What do you mean you double booked?”

“It seems we accidentally scheduled you and another party for the two o’clock sleigh ride,” the woman behind the counter says. She’s older, graying hair pulled back in a neat bun and thin glasses falling down the bridge of her nose. Steve glares as her lips turn up in what is supposed to be an apologetic smile as she continues. “Since the other party included children, we assumed you wouldn’t mind giving up your spot for a refund.”

“Well, you assumed wrong,” Steve snaps, hands slamming down on the desk a bit more forceful than he had hoped. “You didn’t even give me a courtesy call to let me know of the cancelation.”

“We were just about to do that.”

“Bullshit! My reservation was scheduled for ten minutes ago. If you were going to call you would have done it the moment you realized your mistake.”

“I am sorry for the inconvenience Mr. Harrington but we only realized the error when the other family checked in early.”

“So if I was allowed to check in early like I tried to do, you would have let us keep our reservation?” Steve asks, growing more and more irritated by the second.

He and Eddie have been freezing their balls off for almost an hour now outside of the rustic shop. Even bundled up in their winter coats, beanies, and hand-knitted scarf and mitten set from Claudia hasn't been enough to keep them warm. It’s why he sent Eddie off in the direction of the hot chocolate stand while he tried to work his charm and get them into an earlier slot.

“Well, no, that’s not what I’m saying, but—“

“This is ridiculous,” Steve huffs, tugging at the hem of his scarf. “I booked this trip specifically for this sleigh ride and now you’re telling me I can’t go on it.”

“I understand your disappointment Mr. Harr—“

“Stop calling me that!” If there’s one thing Steve hates more than being unjustly inconvenienced it’s being referred to be his surname. He doesn’t need to be reminded of the man he shares his name with. Not now, not ever.

“Um, sorry…” the woman trails off and glances down at her schedule. “Steve. I can offer you a voucher for the trouble. Unfortunately, we are booked up for the rest of the week.”

“Keep the voucher and shove it,” Steve hisses before shoving himself away from the counter.

It takes him a minute to reign in his anger as he stomps his way toward Eddie. He’s sitting on a bench holding two cups of hot chocolate. Judging by the way his body shivers, they’re not doing much to keep him warm.

“Uh oh,” Eddie says, setting the cups aside when Steve gets closer. “I don’t like that frown.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it. Gladys over there fucked with our reservation,” Steve sneers, plopping down on the bench. “Said they doubled booked us and voided our reservation to give to some couple with kids because she “figured I wouldn’t mind.” Of course, I fucking mind!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, tugging Steve until he’s tucked securely under his left arm. “M’sorry. She sounds like a bitch.”

“Those kids aren’t even going to remember the sleigh ride when they’re older! But we would have!”

Eddie nods in agreement, nuzzling his cheek into the soft cotton of Steve’s beanie. The contact is almost enough to extinguish Steve’s anger. Almost.

“Now the vacation is ruined.”

“And you say I’m a drama queen,” Eddie teases, pulling away and twisting on the bench to face Steve. He tucks one leg under him and lets the other dangle off the bench before joining their hands together as best he can given they’re still wearing mittens. “Our vacation is not ruined. It’s been fun. Maybe our best one yet.”

“Yeah, well it could have been even better.”

“Oh come on,” Eddie tsks, squeezing his hand. “Who needs a sleigh ride when I can ride you instead.”

“Eddie!” Steve gapes. He can feel what little heat is in his body crawling its way to his cheeks, turning them a bright shade of red if he had to guess.

“Or you could ride me,” Eddie says, before leaning forward. He gets his lips on the shell of Steve’s ear before continuing, “You know I’m not picky.”

Suddenly the blood rushing to his face takes a detour traveling down, down, down until it settles in his dick. Steve can feel it twitch at Eddie’s word and the feeling of his warm breath against his ear.

“You’re a menace.”

Eddie hums, glancing around to make sure no one is watching them before letting his hand drift to Steve’s lap. He moves slowly at first, teasing him until his hand finally settles on the apparent bulge in his pants.

“M’ you like it though, don’t ya big boy,” Eddie says, giving an experimental squeeze before pulling his hand away completely. When Steve looks up, he’s staring at him with those big round mischievous eyes of his. “Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Steve groans both in pleasure and in exasperation. He buries his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck for a moment before pulling away. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Hey, it put a smile on your face didn’t it.”

It did. Though, if he’s honest with himself, Eddie always puts a smile on his face. Even when he’s being an annoying, teasing, little shithead. Leaning forward to close the distance, Steve gives him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“Christ, your lips are freezing.”

“Better take me inside and warm me up.”

Steve gets himself on his feet before turning around to offer a hand to Eddie. “Come on then, I think I know just how to get you nice and warm, baby.”

[lurkingshan]

Shan! After today’s episode of Only Friends, I have the feeling that I’ve lost a sense of the endgame of this series. I think I was under the impression — from the promos, the tweets, etc. — that we were going to get a summarily messy ending, with a whole bunch of toxic threads needing to be unwound. I’m intrigued by my thoughts on this — and maybe a touch concerned that we might end up getting morality stories out of this. By the time we roll around to an episode 10 or 11, what are your thoughts on a viewer not having a sense — not even of where the journey will end — but also of what the meaning of the journey was in the first place? I wonder if, in successful show construction, if I would have had a stronger and clearer sense of this earlier in the series?

Typically, we do have a strong sense of a show’s arc and narrative beats by this point in a story, but Only Friends specifically does not follow bl beats, so it’s always been a little bit its own beast. That said, it’s funny that you ask this now because after this week, I do feel like I have a sense of where this is going and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Namely, I am now fairly confident that we’re headed toward an ending with all three couples together and happyish, if not purely happy. The way this episode was structured to lead us into the final arc points to the end game conflicts—Boston and Nick figuring out where they stand on monogamy and distance, Mew deciding whether he can truly forgive Top, Ray trying rehab and Sand getting his head spun by Boeing—playing out next week, leaving the finale for resolutions and probably some kind of final word on this group of friends who barely seem to like each other.

I feel mixed about this suspicion because to me, happy endings all around doesn’t feel totally aligned with the spirit of this show and some of its themes. It feels a bit like the character arcs have been adjusted as we go, so that if you returned to the beginning and tried to draw a straight line to where we’re landing, it wouldn’t entirely track. But I’m also aware that this show has been unusually shaped by external forces like branded pairs and fan reactions.

In recent interviews the show’s creators, Jojo and Ninew, shared a few things that made a lot of this click for me:

Their original vision for this show was intended to be cast entirely with supporting actors and not bl pairs (this is why Neo and Mark were first in)

When they realized they were getting branded pairs they they were surprised and tweaked the characters and story to fit them (I’d bet money this rehab arc for Ray was added once they knew Khaotung was playing him)

Jojo allows the actors and their management to view their scenes (he said this specifically about sex scenes, but it may include others as well) and anything they are uncomfortable with doesn’t get put in the show

They have been tracking fan reactions closely and have incorporated those reactions into their final editing decisions (for example, removing a scene of Top hooking up with a random because people already hated him more than expected)

For me, all of this adds up to the conclusion that the show has in fact changed pretty significantly from their original vision, and those changes have been in the direction of a more conventional ending that will align with expectations for bls with branded pairs. In the end, branded pairs are a capitalist endeavor and they can’t let OF damage the brands. So while I do think the show has done more than any that came before it to push the boundaries of these constraints, they’re not going to be able to go all the way. The pairs need to end up in a good enough place that fans don’t want to burn GMMTV to the ground and the actors’ next projects are still set up for success.

So to your original question: I think the tension you’re feeling about the show’s overall point is a result of these changes creators are making as they bow to external forces. I personally think, given the constraints they are juggling, that they’ve still kept the story and its themes pretty legible, and some of the messaging is landing very consistently. But Only Friends is clearly not purely uncompromised art, it’s serving a lot of different needs and motivations.

[the-tulpar-vocaloid-blog]

KAGAMINE LEN

Age: 39

Gender: Male…?

ABOUT LEN:

Len is an extremely supportive cousin to Rin. People often mistake them for brother and sister, but they’re cousins. He was supportive when Rin got into the StarKrypt firm, bringing her dream of stardom to light. He was also supportive when, out of her own volition, She left the firm because she didn’t like the way they were treating their employees. Len doesn’t know about this. So, he ended up taking a job on the VStar, run by Krypton. Their mascot was based off one of the stars that StarKrypt brought to light. Len’s wary of that fact. He’s looking into if StarKrypt is connected with Krypton at all, and he’s getting close to finding out.

He does his investigating off of company time, so they don’t catch him. Because, he’s brought up evidence that proves that Krypton was mistreating their employees. He plans, or planned to, sue Krypton with all this evidence, so that he and  the rest of the crew could live off the grid, like the big family they were. Not needing to worry about any sort of expenses. They could all be happy. Yet, that day never came.

Len often struggled with asking for help. He always kept his problems to himself, but the crew was helping him with that. Something that stemmed from his childhood, (which will be talked about in a fanfic later), that he couldn’t control. Yet, there he was, getting the help he needed. 

“They’re my family. I wouldn’t trade them for the world”

BEFORE THE CRASH

Miku: he could clearly see the bags under her eyes every day, and how she actively avoided music that was from the firm StarKrypt. He could sense the unresolved trauma radiating off of her. So, he did his best to avoid any sort of triggers. He paused his playlists when she came into the room, and never talked about any sort of music. They became best friends.

Rin: They’re cousins. What else can I say? They’re bonded, through thick and thin. They always play-fight, and the crew loves watching their interactions. It’s a welcome distraction from the tense atmosphere of the ship, and the fact they’re not allowed to do much of anything, under Krypton’s watchful eye.

Kaito: Kaito’s a goddamn child! Why would Krypton let him on the ship? He knew that Rin would take good care of him, but he was still worried. He kept a close eye on Kaito, and often let him slack off. After all, he was a child. He didn’t deserve to be trapped in this environment of tenseness and stress.

Fukase: “I regret ever calling him fuckass”. Len said, as more and more drawings of him as a banana kept popping up on the ship. He now had the ever-so-affectionate nickname, “Banana man.” He didn't want to admit it, but he loved that stupid nickname to bits. Hell, on the communal birthday party they threw, Len even dressed up as a Banana. Everyone was laughing, and having a good time. There ended up being more secret parties, so that everyone could have a birthday. To keep some semblance of normal on the ship.

“You guys are worrying me.”

AFTER THE CRASH:

Miku: he notices her struggles immediately. How she cried in the medical room when she thought he was asleep. How she was slowly losing the sparkle in her eyes, her once rosy face became paler by the day. How she was barely able to sleep at night. He did his best to comfort her, yet to no avail. She was the one to gather the crew around him as he died, of an infection that they couldn't cure.

Rin: Rin stayed in the mechanical room most of the time, not coming to visit him. They lost their bond, yet Len still wanted to gain it again. Only when he died, did Rin ever cry. It was a sight to see.

Kaito: Len didn’t want Kaito to see him die. Yet, he was surprised when Kaito hugged him, crying. He didn’t want to lose a father figure in his life, and Len sure as hell didn’t want to leave Kaito, with all the stress of helping to run a ship without a captain.

Fukase: it was the first time that he had ever seen Fukase cry. When he was digging Len out of the foam, realizing his arm was obliterated. He didn’t know that Fukase knew anything about amputation, until he properly amputated Len’s arm, to save him from death. That was the only time Len, or anyone, had seen Fukase cry. When he died, Fukase held his hand, smiling. That was the first time that Fukase called him by his name. It made him feel so sad.

“I’m sorry, everyone”

DEATH: He died in the medical ward, from an untreatable infection in his muscles. He was struggling with holding on, and only when everyone had said goodbye, did he officially pass on.

[tizzyizzy]

Ed & Fear

As a love interest and popular character with a tragic past, it’s easy to forget how frightening Blackbeard is.

Sure, we get a sense of his reputation before he appears. A story of his smoking head and glowing eyes, ominous music playing over his flapping flag, Spanish Jackie letting Stede go because she didn’t want to cross Blackbeard.

That all sets us up for the twist once Ed is friendly, but lost like Stede, looking for some meaning in his life. We learn about Ed’s past, and his vulnerabilities, and fall for him as Stede does. He’s still that abused child trying to protect himself.

But those stories and that reputation didn’t come from nowhere. I don’t think it’s an accident that Frenchie, one of the most savvy people in the crew, is the one that asks Ed whether they’re all going to be killed while Ed’s swanning around the deck.

Blackbeard is all about fear. It’s what makes ships surrender at the sight of his flag. His trademark fuckeries are based on psychological warfare. Craft an illusion powerful enough, and no one will dare hurt you.

It’s not just illusions, though. Ed’s one fear is the kraken, i.e. himself. He’s frightened of his own capacity for violence. He can’t evening kill people directly by his own hand.

Others are frightened by that capacity too. It helps to contrast his wrath to Izzy’s. Izzy yells, and everyone ignores him. Ed raises his voice, and everyone lines up to shake Stede’s hand obediently. Fang laughs at the thought of Izzy coming in to see him modelling for penis drawings. He nearly jumps out of his skin at the thought of Blackbeard arriving. Even Lucius, who tries to communicate with Ed and be sympathetic to him, is wary in their interactions.

Cultivating an aura of fear keeps people from getting close, however. Others idolize and/or fear him. Before Stede, Izzy is one of the few people allowed to see behind the curtain to the man behind the myth (”His name is Blackbeard, dog!”).

I actually suspect Stede’s naivety is part of what allowed their relationship to take off. Sure, Stede’s heard stories of Blackbeard, but he’s still a gentleman whose one only venture into proper piracy involved him stealing a potted plant from two defenseless fishermen. He wasn’t clever enough to realize that what a dangerous position he was in with Blackbeard on his ship, so he was happy to treat Ed as a friend.

And for Ed’s part, Stede’s a bit like a child or...well...pet. A dog doesn’t know your insecurities or reputation. It isn’t a threat. You don’t need to put on a façade of ferocity because it won’t stab you in the back.

If Stede had been a proper pirate, Ed wouldn’t have been able to relax with him, or open up. You can’t admit to other professionals in your field that actually you’re bored and you like fancy fabric and it’s frustrating that they all imagine you as more dangerous that you actually are. You want them to see you as that dangerous.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - forty-four | merch drop

You pushed the door of the dance studio open and did a quick scan. No Yunho, thank god. Not that you had any reason to fear him or anything like that, but you didn’t feel like resuming the awkward activity of being two ‘former best friends who had a dramatic and traumatic falling out’ in a room full of people who weren’t even aware that you even knew each other. Life was just easier when he wasn’t around.

“Hey! You came!” Mingi said as he turned to you and smiled.

“I did. I also have this,” you opened your shirt to reveal a shirt you had printed. The text read, ‘No Horses On Mars,’ which was centered around a purposefully crappy stick figure drawing of a horse encircled by a red ‘no’ symbol you made in paint to go with it.

Mingi looked at you expectantly, before his face dropped. He looked from your shirt, to the troll-smile you wore on your face, and back down to your shirt.

“You’re not allowed to hang out here… at all anymore.”

You laughed.

“Where did you get that?”

“I was playing around on the site I made all these nice stickers and buttons on, and discovered they let you make singular shirts.”

“That’s ridiculous. And they let you make that?”

You nodded.

“What a waste of resources. Did you know that desertification is at an all time high? Did you know that the Amazon rainforest is being clear-cut to make space for factory farming? Did you know that we’re experiencing a drought right now, here, in Korea?”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel about it.”

“I hate it.”

You nodded. “Do you want me to make one for you and Chunyoung?”

He looked at you for a few moments and sighed. “Yeah, he’d want one.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in realization and sighed again. “And the ones for Dei and Dani too… Fuck it, we’re all going to have shirts. I’ll text you our sizes.”

You laughed. “Then I’ll show up at another time with shirts. Who knows? Maybe I’ll make a band with the same name and you guys can retroactively be my first fans.”

You dug into your bag for the bags of stickers and buttons you also had printed. Before you were struck with the inspiration that was your shirt idea, that is.

“Sounds like a scam move, if you ask me.” Mingi replied.

You shrugged. “You’ve heard of ‘I listened to them before they were cool’, now try ‘I listened to them before they existed.’ Even more hipster.”

“I’m sure it’d be more annoying,” he chuckled.

“Anyway--” you pulled the bags out. “Stickers and buttons and… well, it’s just stickers and buttons since they’re the things that sell the most.”

“Nice!” He pulled a sticker out and waved it in the air, “You guys want stickers?”

The rest of the dancers ran or walked or moseyed over to see what was being offered to them. Proclamations of “Cool!” “Neat!” and “Hey, nice!” were repeated as Mingi handed out the stickers and you handed out pins. Once everyone had one of each, the two of you closed the bags back up.

“We can save the rest to hand out when we busk.” Mingi said.

You nodded and went to close the bag you were holding.

“Did you get one?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I brought them for you guys.”

Mingi smiled. “You should have a couple of your own.” He took a few stickers out and handed them to you.

“Isn’t that silly though? They’re my logo, why would I need them?” You laughed.

He smiled again. “That’s why? To keep you confident.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I understand how that works.”

“At the very least you can give them to someone who asks.”

You chuckled and took a few buttons out of the bag you were holding, closed it, and handed it to him. You put the buttons and stickers in your messenger bag and patted the pocket you put them in. “Happy?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

You shook your head. “What a pest.”

He laughed. “Want to watch us practice? We’re working on a choreo for your newest mashup.”

“If it were up to you, I’d be a total narcissist.”

“Nothing wrong with being confident.”

“I think maybe we have different definitions.”

He chuckled.

“And it’s not that I’m not confident, I just don’t need to like… see people enjoy my mashups to enjoy making them.”

“Ah, so you’re a ‘doing it for the music’ type of person?”

“Yep.”

“‘Music is my life’?”

“I mean, it kind of is. I don’t do much of anything else.”

He nodded. “Stay and watch us?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

“Don’t be too excited.”

You laughed. “Dang and golly gee willikers! I’m so excited to see everyone dance to my mashups!” You jumped in false excitement before running over to the couches to sit, putting your hands in your lap like a well-behaved school child.

Mingi doubled over in laughter. “Don’t ever do that again.”

You laughed and took out your phone while you waited for them to start.

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[tanoraqui]

On one hand: I now DESPERATELY want like, a 5+1 of times Maedhros went nuclear on the HOA/PTA (and one time Fingon did it for him).

But also I am now imagining the canon setting HOA/building codes. Like. They're like 95% defensive stuff about keeping walls clear and in good repair, fire suppressant means on hand, etc. But the remaining 5% is buckwild Finwean aesthetic bullshit.

Thanks for the ask! If it’s in any way reassuring, re: your tags on the inspiring post, Maedhros doesn’t run the HOA with an iron fist so much as…okay listen have you ever read the Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association MDZS/Untamed fox series? Maedhros can’t use his power or his menacing reputation for the HOA (or PTA, etc) because this is his mild-mannered alter ego. He can’t even act too much like Maedhros Fëanorion(TM), because the disguise is glasses + Clark Kenting! So instead of being sexily threatening and supernaturally authoritative, he rules the HOA with nonthreatening charm, spreadsheets, and a dash of blackmail as necessary.

Also, actually, he has a full-time job as a CEO/supervillain, so most likely he rules the HOA through a convenient patsy.

Idk if I can pull out a full 5+1, but…

1. When they were still living in an apartment in downtown Echo City (penthouse, fairly fancy but not where the UBER-wealthy live), one time Maedhros suggested to the building manager that the rooftop garden would be more aesthetically cohesive and appealing with brickwork pathways. The manager brushed him off. Maedhros took offense (“Our contract says that the landlord will maintain the building for use AND aesthetics!”) and rallied other residents to make a fuss. After three weeks of escalating complaints, the building manager nearly started crying in an all-parties meeting as he tried to explain that he’d asked about getting superficial brickwork on the roof, okay, he’s sorry he was dismissive at first, that’s on him, but he did ask, and his boss said that he’s not allowed to so much as look at contractors to upgrade the garden paths—

It was at this point that Fingon pulled his beloved husband aside and asked, “Russo don’t you technically own this building?”

“Yes,” said Maedhros.

“So his boss, or his boss’s boss’s boss’s boss…”

“He was rude to me,” Maedhros hissed. “Which is a failure at his job, too! I will break him, and then I will have him fired and replaced with someone who is a more quality judge of interior and exterior design.”

2. When they moved into a house in the suburbs, neither bothered much with the HOA at first, because they were too busy with their newly untesttubed baby. Maedhros realized he needed to Do Something about it when the HOA wouldn’t let them put up an eye-searing display of Solstice lights. Fingon more or less said “sic ‘em” on this one; in all universes, Noldor are (sometimes fatally) attracted to shiny things. They’re like crows.

3. Maedhros licked the chocolate crumbs from his fingers with intense focus.

“This isn’t just homemade,” he said slowly. “It’s actually good.”

“That’s great!” said Fingon. Judgement passed, he bit into his own brownie. “Mmm, yeah, that is good—I can’t believe your weird little competition prompted her to not just make real brownies for once, but to make good ones! I assumed she lied about the storebought ones because she just couldn’t—hey, no. No.”

He grabbed his husband’s hand, which was pulling out a cellphone with the same forbidding fury that most people reserved for drawing guns.

“You are not allowed to call a hit on Laura from the PTA,” Fingon said sternly. “Be proud! Be happy! You inspired her, and now the bake sale stands a real chance!”

“I’m not calling a hit on her,” Maedhros said grimly. “I said I’d humiliate her and I meant it—so I’m doing far worse.”

He swiped the phone open and handed it to Fingon.

“Please call your grandmother and ask for her brownie recipe—you know, the really good fudgey one that my father always pretended to hate.”

BY THE WAY, it hasn’t come up at all in the au and I’m not sure about the details or implications, but the Vanyar are definitely an alien race. Maybe secretly? 2/3 of this extended family are only partly or mostly human. They still get their superpowers from Finwë’s side, though.

[ticiie]

week 4: "I don't know what I'm feeling but there's a lot of it"

prompt from the off-season winter sport fandom challenge

length: 841 words

characters: Marco Odermatt, Loïc Meillard, Zoé Chastan, Gino Caviezel, Justin Murisier (mentioned)

author's note: happy 92 days anniversary of one of the best days in swiss sport-history! decided to take a few changes on it just because i can and also because i miss the ski himbos being happy himbos

Zoé's knees gave in the second Loïc had crossed the finish line. He had been the last one to start in the second run, Marco had already shown his best, leaving the third on the podium more than a second behind him and, now that it was official, so did Loïc. Her colleagues were too tied up with screaming in joy to understand the significance of Loïc's timestamp. But when Marco came running towards him, his force knocking them both over, one single mess of limbs and skis and happy tears, realization hit them with a sudden burst. There was no holding back. And Zoé was unable to stand, with all the pressure gone from one second to the next, all she could do was to cry. Many staff members came hugging her first before losing themselves in their frenzy. Through the veil of tears, she eventually saw her boyfriend’s face projected to the big screen. Behind them, volunteers started setting up the podium for the unofficial winners’ presentation. 

“Congratulations to this victory, Loïc Meillard and Marco Odermatt! How does it feel to be a world champion?”, the interviewer asked. The swiss fans were almost loud enough to drown her out. Marco was distracted by someone in the crowd, Zoé couldn’t tell who exactly he was waving at so eagerly, so Loïc took over answering. “Uh, I don’t know what I’m feeling but there’s a lot of it. I personally didn’t expect it to turn out like this, I was glad to have made it into the second run, let alone to stay first, I- I have no words.” 

“You really deserve it; your performance was incredible. What about you, Marco?” Loïc nudged Marco’s side to draw his attention to the camera and the journalist. His smile was bigger and brighter than the sun that was fighting itself through a layer of clouds. 

“Sorry, what was the question again?” 

Everyone laughed, including the interviewer. She showed mercy with the two athletes and only asked Marco this one question before they were allowed to leave the stage for a few minutes until the broadcaster was ready again. Marco and Loïc both hurried across fences and through the crowd of other athletes and operatives until they finally reached the spot their team had gathered. Zoé didn’t see how but Loïc managed to escape dying of suffocation and instead found her, wrapping her up in a bear hug. He was aware of the cameras that were probably pointed at them this very second but for once, he didn’t care about it at all. Having Zoé pressed to his chest, hearing the team rejoice, was enough to tear down each and every single wall inside of him. He felt the tears streaming down his cheeks. Marco wasn’t doing any better either and considering the fact the pressure on his shoulders had been quite a bit larger than what Loïc had experienced, it wasn’t a surprise at all to find him still standing, but sobbing. Zoé was the first to regain her composure. She let go of Loïc only so much she could look at him.  

“They’re waiting for you; you need to get back-” Loïc interrupted her with a kiss. Marco didn’t remember half of what followed, someone awarded him a flower bouquet and he assumed he had sung along the national anthem but he wouldn’t have wanted to bet money on that. His body acted on his own accords while his mind was somewhere else, still trying to wrap itself around the fact that Switzerland had just conquered not one, but two gold medals in a single race. He did as he was told, gave an interview here, smiled into a dozen cameras there, answered the same questions repeatedly when all he really wanted to do was to be with Gino and also Justin because victory tasted best alongside cheap beer and terrible music, he remembered that much from China. And finally, after what felt like an entire year, all TV stations uttered their contentment. Marco was out of the building in a matter of seconds. He had lost an overview on their obligations that followed a victory this big about two or three glasses of champagne ago and therefore had no clue where Loïc was. Marco had felt his phone vibrating in his pocket throughout the entire last interview and now found it covered in texts and pictures, all regarding the party that was going down in the house of Switzerland. 

Gino was waiting for him at the back entrance. He met Marco halfway once he saw him coming and didn’t miss another second to finally kiss his world champion. The world around them slowed down, allowing Marco to breathe. He felt nothing else than Gino’s lips on his, Gino’s arms around him, Gino, Gino, Gino. And when they parted again, their foreheads pressed against each other, both trying to savor every last fracture of the moment, Gino asked how Marco was feeling. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than this very second.” 

[emmatheyoshi]

Because I can’t help it…

Miriam Lore

🧸 As stated on her profile, Miriam is bodily 24, but mentally three. She was an orphan in life and age regression was her main trauma response. But after taking a major blow to the head, she permanently regressed.

🧸 Her main caregiver is Alastor. He didn’t want to take care of her at first, as he was planning on using her. But she slowly began giving him little things that reminded her of him. A drawing here, a small deer figure there. Eventually, Alastor completely softened up and began taking care of her.

🧸 She doesn’t particularly like pacifiers, but she likes teethers, specifically the ones full of water that you can freeze.

🧸 She loves drawing and coloring. Alastor has binders full of all the drawings she’s given him.

🧸 Charlie, Vaggie, and Rosie are her primary babysitters, Angel and Husk take on an older brother role, and Alastor tries to keep her away from Niffty. If one of the Vees has to babysit her, Alastor always leaves her with Velvette.

🧸 She’s very in-tune with people’s emotions, especially Alastor’s. She can tell when he needs a hug or something comforting.

🧸 She doesn’t throw tantrums, but meltdowns are somewhat common. She’ll mainly pull her hair when this happens. Alastor will grab her hands by the wrist and softly talk to her until she’s calm.

🧸 She died two years before the TV was invented, so she thought it was out to get her at first. Once everyone managed to convince here it was safe, she grew very fond of Little Bear and Bear in the Big Blue House.

🧸 But what Miriam loves more than TV is radio and music. If she can’t go with Alastor when he’s broadcasting, she’ll usually tune in on the radio he gifted her. She changes the station when he broadcasts the screams of sinners though.

🧸 She’s….not fond of Mimzy. Mimzy keeps insisting that they’re a couple while Alastor is ace (we still have no clue whether he’s actually aromantic yet) and Miriam is aro/ace. As much as Alastor loves his friend, he does not let Mimzy near Miriam.

🧸 The other overlords are fond of Miriam as well, but she’s the closest with Velvette, Zestial, Rosie, and Calliope. Velvette is a big sister figure, Zestial is a grandfather figure, Rosie is an aunt figure, and Calliope is her motherly figure. She even calls Calliope “Mama Calliope.”

🧸 Nobody allows her near Valentino. And I mean nobody. The hotel residents, Lucifer, the other overlords, hell, even Val himself agrees that he shouldn’t be allowed near her.

🧸 She loves soft things. Blankets, pillows, stuffed animals. She’s always got something soft on her, whether that’s a stuffed animal or a piece of clothing.

🧸 Miriam does not like Vox. During episode eight, Alastor left her with Velvette during the extermination, not knowing that the Vees were watching the extermination live. She essentially watched her father almost get killed, which traumatized her to her core. Vox proceeded to make fun of her, earning himself a berating from Velvette and Alastor. Hell, even Valentino shot him a dirty look.

🧸 Adding onto my last point, the first time she ever called Alastor “Dad” was when he picked her up after the extermination. She was so happy to see him that she didn’t even realize she called him that.

🧸 Miriam’s favorite pet names are cub, little one, baby girl, Miri, and mon chou. (Alastor gave her that last one. I headcanon that he speaks French and his mother called him that when he was a kid. It means “my cabbage.”)

🧸 Miriam doesn’t play in the traditional sense. She collects little animal figurines and sets them up in little zoo-esque habitats. She also likes reading and blowing bubbles.

🧸 She enjoys burying herself in blankets. When she was alive and homeless, she’d hide in bushes when it rained. The blankets remind her of those simpler times, plus, they’re safer and warmer.

🧸 When she’s happy, the nubs on her back where her wings once were will flutter. The first time Alastor saw that reaction was when he gave Miriam her own radio. He nearly cried from how cute it was.

🧸 Miriam can’t handle any sort of punishment. When she first broke their contract, Alastor reacted the same way he’d react to an adult breaking their contract with him. She wound up bawling her eyes out, causing Alastor to remember he’s working with someone who is mentally a child. And a very traumatized child at that. She can’t do timeouts either, as she feels like she’s being abandoned. So what Alastor does is holds her wrists and gently explains to why what she did was wrong. She’s broken their contract a total of two times, but neither of those times were on purpose.

🧸 Miriam wears pull-ups, but not for the reason you think. She’s not accident prone (far from it actually), but the underwear that’s available in her size is either too tight or too itchy. The cloth-like material is comfortable and still functions as underwear, plus, when she is more accident prone (nightmares, PTSD attacks, etc.), she doesn’t have to worry about wetting herself.

[locallepidoptera]

Droplet and the red heart!

i realize now i probably should’ve introduced all my ocs before doing something like this. so basic context. pearl is the (terrible) “mentor.” donna is her yes-man (and girlfriend). mauve (college student that dropped out) is the sweet and cheery one. lime (high-school student that ran away) is the mindless complainer. edison (also a high-school student) is the realist. and thyme (also a high-school student) is. hard to describe. he’s just my favorite delusional little guy. he’s just a weirdo. weirdo protagonist.

(droplet) random angst headcanon

pearl - her weird god complex has lead to a distant relationship with her parents. she just wants to pretend they don’t even exist. they’re not needed and so they don’t exist.

donna - she used to spend most of her time cutting coupons. it was her favorite hobby. she didn’t really enjoy it though. she just wanted to see pearl happy. pearl had a sweet tooth and donna just wanted to save on all the different shit they’d need. nowadays, donna really just bakes 24/7. except she doesn’t actually like sweets. she bakes them all for pearl’s sake. donna’s actually got a really bland taste in food. girl’s favorite food is unbuttered toast.

mauve - she used to have a really good therapist. she would cancel the appointments pretty frequently. she never really ‘opened up.’ but she definitely appreciated their presence. until she dropped out and moved into pearl’s house. pearl had already decided therapists weren’t allowed. why visit a therapist when you could just. rely on pearl.

lime - the thing she misses the most is actually all the different trophies she used to own. she couldn’t take any of them with her. she won’t ever admit it though. whenever the topic of trophies comes up she likes to complain about how they’re just a waste of time. she’s one of those people who loves to hate on participation trophies. she doesn’t understand why people love celebrating. but she does like having “undeniable proof” that she’s “worthy.” that’s what her trophies were to her. proof.

edison - she doesn’t like eating. she thinks eating is tedious. she really likes taking her time except eating just takes too much time and everything keeps getting soggy too quickly and everything keeps getting cold too quickly. she’ll eat regardless because she knows it’s good for her. but she won’t enjoy it. she’ll hate it. the whole experience. she’s got a pretty admirable diet. she makes sure she’s well-fed. and adequately hydrated. she always keeps a million water bottles in her room. but that’s just because of an overwhelming fear of death.

thyme - this man’s life is a random angst headcanon. he daydreams about being a beloved philanthropist in a huge mansion living together with his best friend who diligently takes care of all his needs in exchange for an endless love. said best friend doesn’t even like him irl. thyme’s controlling and self-centered and paranoid and his friend is just here to keep him sane. once thyme starts getting irrationally bold the friend just leaves. thyme thinks this is the third act disagreement inside the disney movie they’re both living in. and is convinced that he just has to wait a week or two and his bestie will come back. he probably won’t. all of that isn’t even a ‘headcanon.’ that’s basically his whole deal. it’s a big part of his character. this is all context for the angsty headcanon. he’s liked drawing him and his bestie as a happy family since he was a kid. it’s how he got good at drawing. he keeps all the drawings in one big box. he keeps drawing similar things even after his bestie leaves. he draws them spoiling the local children. he draws them eating dessert together on their big fancy table. he likes putting having disney movies playing in the background as he draws. he has a lot of disney movies on dvd. he owns a weird amount of straight-to-dvd disney sequels. the movies all remind him of his bestie. he’s sure they’re both destined to live a beautiful movie-like life. he thinks this is all normal behavior.

(red heart) their love language

pearl - words of affirmation. she’s very much a sweet-talker.

donna - gift giving. overzealous gift giving.

mauve - acts of service. you might not think so at first glance though. she’s very touchy-feely. and a flatterer. and a longtime gift-giver. and almost never alone. her love language seems indiscernible. but eventually you realize. her being so loving is an act of service.

lime - quality time. you kinda just gotta tolerate her complaining. make her appreciate your presence. she’s subtly affectionate.

edison - quality time. the kind of person that thinks all the other love languages are just too shallow.

thyme - well. the problem with thyme is. he’s in love with love. he’ll accept any form of love. he’ll provide any form of love. that said. if i had to choose one. one that surpasses all others. physical touch.

[atozphantomsquadron]

Chapter 18: Retribution

July 17th

Midnight falls.  Just as I get through the back door of the first building, it does as well, in a fiery heap of destruction.  I’m now beyond caring who sees me.  This attack is in full swing.

More rank-and-files appear, guns drawn, scrambling to meet me.  A few can see the rage in my face and scramble away just as fast as they mustered to confront me.  Those that stay are no match for me.  I’ve discovered this early in this night of chaos.  I don’t even need the Guardswoman to defeat this force: all it takes is my wings and my fire, and they’re down.

A few rush me.  I respond in kind, knocking them aside.  They won’t stop me from crossing this compound, from getting into the next building.

One down, five to go.

I reach the door of the next building, blasting it off of the hinges with flames.  This one contains holding cells: I can see many scared supernaturals being held here, some of them apparently on their last legs.  From what I saw in the hospital wing, I’m not surprised.

I search a nearby wall for any controls or keys to cells.  An electronic panel greets me, asking for retinal scans and fingerprints.

I want you to know exactly who is defeating you tonight.  I want you to know who you’ll have to kill to stop.

I allow the panel to scan my eye.  Just as it identifies me, I blow it out of the wall.  Once the panel is out of commission all of the locks in this building open.  The supernaturals pour out of the cells.  Many of them recognize me, and are happy to see me.  Several of them pull me in different directions, hoping I’ll give them some word of the outside, some hope that the New Empire is weakening.  I’m so numb that I can’t even feel any of it.  Eventually I realize that I’ll need this impromptu army to help me.  I raise my hands to get their attention, which quiets them all down.

“I need your help.  Together, we have enough power to destroy this entire facility.  That’s my goal tonight, to make sure no more supernaturals get brainwashed into fighting their own ever again.  To do that, we must take this facility down to rubble.  Are you with me?”

A loud cheer erupts.

“Good!  We go building-by-building.  No mercy.  That’s the least we can give back to those who would corrupt, enslave, or murder us.  Everyone, come with me!”

I lead the entire group out the door that I came through to enter.  Talking amongst them, I try to find out who has what power.  Eventually I find a blaster, who cheerfully knocks holes in the holding pen until it, like the hospital, is stone and concrete rubble.  The destruction is accompanied by more blueshirts, and now there’s a couple of supernaturals with them, trying to suppress us with powers.

I draw the Sword and lead my own troops into battle.  The Sword swings around and cuts into several blueshirts, knocking them to either side where others of the supernaturals take over.  I reach the first supernatural blueshirt.

He has no scar!

This is upsetting: I’ll have to fight a completely corrupted supernatural, who apparently believes in the New Empire cause.  This blueshirt whips his arms out in front of him, which form long, narrow blades.

I wonder …

The question doesn’t even have time to form before he answers it.  “You killed my sister, bitch!”

He’s Yolanda French’s brother.  The power is just too similar; I thought he had to be related.  He rushes and swings both blades at me, which I can easily parry; while he has strength, he has no skill at fencing.  His arm-blades clang against the Sword, sending loud reports over the din of battle.  I hold him at a disadvantage when he lunges quickly and loses his balance, falling flat on his face.  I know I should stop the Guardswoman, should reassert control, but I can’t bring myself to do it as she runs him through, pinning him to the ground.  When he stops writhing, I withdraw the Sword from his back and continue into the melee.

It seems that my forces must have been too weakened by torture to put up an effective fight, as several of them now lie dead.  The cause is the other supernatural blueshirt, another one with no scar, who is spraying some weird fluid from his hands.  Droplets of it strike the Guardswoman’s chestplate and instantly begin heating it beyond comfort.

Acid?

Do I dare fight him with the Sword?  I’m once again at a crossroads: I don’t want to damage the weapon, or destroy it, but I can’t let this blueshirt continue cutting through my forces.

“Concussion!”

A familiar voice cuts through the din, which is followed by a heavy pillar of air that knocks Acid Boy backward, splashing him in the face with his own power.  He screams and retreats, hands covering his eyes.

I sheathe the Sword and turn to see where the wave came from.  My heart drops, but jumps at the same time.

It’s Michi.

“No, no, no, you guys aren’t supposed to be here!”  I scream toward her, trying to shoo her away.  “Don’t you understand, I’m going to get killed here!”

She approaches me and my impromptu army, and through the smoke I can see the others as well … Fahaian with his lighter, William with his eyes shining with concern …

… and one pissed-off-beyond-belief Gabe Francis.  He marches right to the front of the group, ahead of Michi, and gets right in my face.

“I’ve served with your family for too long, Alanna, I know what your tendencies are.  Sharpes throughout history have barged into battles, most of them far more prepared than you, and have ended up injured, dismembered, or dead because they didn’t think things through, didn’t use their allies, or didn’t think of anyone but themselves!  I want answers right now!  What in the HELL do you think you’re doing here?!”

I push Gabe away, angry.  “What are you guys doing here?  I left so that you would be out of harm’s way, not so you could follow me!”

William groans sadly … either that or his ribs are still hurting from Chicago.  “If you’re going to do this for that reason, don’t put in your good-bye note where you’re going.”

Fahaian walks up.  “And don’t start your attack with fire, especially when one of the allies you’re trying to protect is telepyretic.”

Damn.  Fahaian brought them here using the hospital building fire.  I should’ve thought of that, but my rage was just blinding me.  Gabe, though, is still angry, and grabs my arm.

“What good are you going to be getting killed?  Without you, there’s no Guardsman, without you there’s no hope!”

I try to wrestle my arm out of Gabe’s grip, but it’s so strong …

“Leave me alone, Gabe!  Let me do this, I can’t risk you guys getting hurt …”

Michi surprises me by slapping me across the face.  “Haven’t you figured it out yet?  We’re your friends.  Some of us are more than that, to some of us you’re family!  Most of all, we’re all supernaturals here, and if we’re with you it’s because we choose the risk!”  She grabs my collar and shakes me as she screams in my face.  “WE LOVE YOU, ALANNA!  FIGURE IT THE FUCK OUT!”

It takes that for my rage to finally snap.  My breathing’s coming in quick gasps.

What have I done?

Michi’s crying.  Gabe, sensing he doesn’t need it anymore, releases his grip on my arm.  I use my freshly-freed limb to wrap myself around my despondent best friend, my own emotions regaining their ability to make me feel.

“I’m so sorry, Michi … I didn’t want this … didn’t want to put you guys in danger …”

Gabe, for his part, at least is still aware of the situation.  “Well, we’re here now.  What was your plan?

A couple of the supernaturals I freed from the cells walk up to us.  One of them, the blaster who knocked the building down, responds.  “She wanted to go through all the buildings and destroy them.  She said we’d be able to escape with her …”

Gabe smirks.  “You still can.  Fahaian, could you do the honors?”

Fahaian nods.  “Follow me, all of you.”  He walks past me, but pauses to place a hand on my shoulder.  “Good luck, Alanna, my friend.  May Aten and Zoroaster smile on you this night.”

I clutch Fahaian’s hand briefly, then let him continue walking toward the fire, no doubt to transport those lucky souls who survived to the Ranch.  William walks up to us, as I feel I can finally release the sniffling Michi.

Gabe is the first to break the silence.  “Okay, you want to destroy this facility?  Let’s do it right.  We do this with a plan and a guide.  I can tell you which buildings you want to destroy.”

I clear my throat.  “Gabe, with all due respect … I need you to take the others and wreck all the other buildings, after you tell me which one houses the command offices.”

Gabe’s face drops.  “He’s here, isn’t he?”  I don’t answer.  I don’t need to.  He gets a resigned look on his face, rubs his temples, then points behind me.  “Three buildings down, Alanna.  We’ll give you an escort.”

I raise a questioning eyebrow.  “You won’t stop me?”

Gabe grumbles.  “As much as I would really love to, as much as I’d love to just kick your butt for pulling this stunt … I don’t think I can do much to prevent you, because you’ll find a way around any roadblocks I put up anyway.  Go fight him.  We’ll back you up as soon as we can.”

William and Michi’s faces both reflect concern.  Michi pipes up.  “Scolar?”

I nod.  “I have to face him.”  I hug Michi, then turn to William.  “It’s the only way, William, I’m sorry.  I can’t let him and his troops hurt any more supernaturals.”

He nods quietly.  Suddenly, I’m back in his arms.  His eyes have an intense look.

“Give as good as you get, Alanna.  Come back to us.  Come back to me.”

At this moment, I realize exactly what it is I’m risking with this fight, more than I did when I wrote the note three days ago.  A tear rolls down William’s face.

I have to do it.

I kiss William … one last kiss before my doom.  We keep our lips locked for a long period of time, before I slide down his body and back on my feet.  By the time I’ve straightened out and started moving, he’s already halfway to his wendigo form.  Michi is just polishing off a can of spinach.  She’s ready for action, and expecting to give a lot of blood to the gauntlet in order to stay in action.  Gabe, to my surprise, pulls an automatic pistol out of his coat.  I’ve never seen him armed in my life.

Now or never.  I draw the Sword and lead us into battle.

[bluerevs-a]

               “do  you  hear  yourself?  how  unfair  that  is?”  the  confirmation  of  what  he  already  knew  to  be  true  is  somehow  worse.  it  makes  him  feel  inferior,  second  best.  “it  IS  too  late.  i’m  with  someone  now,  and  it’s  easy.  it’s  so  much  easier  than  …  whatever  this  was.”  the  latter  of  his  sentence  was  meant  to  cut,  a  childish  attempt  to  draw  blood  just  as  easily  as  she  could.  he  would  never  say  it,  but  even  though  this  was  easier,  he  wasn’t  happy   —   not  even  by  a  long  shot.  “is  that  your  goal?  to  ruin  this  for  me?”  question  is  posed  as  if  he  wasn’t  ruining  any  chance  of  a  relationship  with  mila  all  by  himself.  god  knows  that  just  being  here  very  well  could  do  them  in  before  they  really  started.  “don’t  do  that.  don’t  act  like  i’m  so  important  to  you.  you  clearly  do  just  fine  without  me.”  she  could  scream  until  her  face  was  blue,  but  every  time  they  go  through  periods  without  speaking,  he  feels  hollow,  walking  around  feeling  like  a  phantom  in  his  own  life.  and  the  whole  time,  the  only  image  he  can  conjure  in  his  head  is  one  of  her,  with  him,  without  a  single  care  in  the  world.  “i’m  angry  because  this  isn't  your  problem!  i  don’t  need  protecting  from  your  5’8  gollum  looking  boyfriend.”  the  only  mitigating  factor  between  marcus  actually  finding  this  guy  was  the  fact  that  he  didn’t  know  where  to  look  for  him,  and  that  elena  could  face  consequences  for  his  actions. 

               his  teeth  catch  his  bottom  lip,  biting  down  hard  enough  that  he’s  surprised  he  hasn’t  drawn  blood.  this  conversation  was  pointless.  he  would  never  understand  because  she  would  never  let  him,  and  he  didn’t  know  how  much  longer  he  could  sit  in  here  and  shout  in  circles.  “i  don’t  think  you’re  incapable  of  saving  yourself,  but  if  he  ever…”  words  get  caught  in  his  throat,  and  he  begins  tugging  at  the  tie  around  his  neck,  “i  don’t  care  about  him,  or  his  issues,  or  what  he  would  ever  try  to  do  to  me.  i  just…  god,  i  just  need  to  know  that  you’re  fucking  safe.  always.”  can  feel  the  prick  of  emotion  at  his  eyes  but  he  wills  it  away,  especially  when  her  own  seems  to  boil  over.  “hey  —  hey  ... it’s  okay.”  gaze  transforms  into  one  of  concern,  voice  tender  as  he  moves  to  hold  her  face  in  his  hands,  both  of  his  thumbs  operating  to  wipe  away  thick  tears,  unconcerned  of  all  the  makeup  sticking  to  his  fingers.  everything  about  her  demeanor  screams  that  he  should  believe  her,  that  this  was  a  situation  much  more  nuanced  than  she  would  allow  insight  into,  but  he  stubbornly  refuses.  it’s  easier  to  believe  that  her  choice  is  black  and  white.  that,  regardless  of  how  tumultuous  her  current  relationship  was,  she  wanted  to  stay  in  it.  the  alternative  is  too  bleak  and  even  if  it’s  reality,  it’s  one  that  he  cannot  live  in.  elena’s  iron  grip  on  his  shirt  remains,  and  it  may  be  strange  or  under  circumstances  that  he  hates,  but  marcus  realizes  that  they’re  holding  each  other.  “this  whole  thing  got  out  of  control.  …  i’m  sorry,”  and  he  doesn’t  mean  this  one  interaction,  he  means  everything;  how  they  had  morphed  from  something  casual,  to  awe-inspiring,  to  completely  soul-crushing  in  rapid  succession.  once  her  tears  start  to  ebb,  the  two  of  them  are  dead  locked  in  a  stare  and  he  quickly  pulls  her  in,  wrapping  his  long  arms  around  her  tightly.  they  sit  here  for  nearly  too  long,  his  chin  atop  her  head,  feeling  the  thrum  of  her  heartbeat  against  his  chest.    “it  was  never  supposed  to  be  you  and  i  in  the  end.  we  both  knew  that.”    the  words  felt  like  razors  in  his  mouth,  mutilating  him  in  their  exit.  he  presses  a  soft,  nearly  undetectable  kiss  into  her  hair  once  he  finally  pulls  away,  brown  doe  eyes  practically  boring  a  hole  straight  through  him.  “i’ve  gotta  go,  elena,"  a  sigh  as  he  lets  his  hand  fall  from  her  face,  "i  need  to  go  …  find  her,”  he  whispers,  face  full  of  grimace.

"YES," simply blurting it, blatantly and HONESTLY. she wanted him to wait, even if that made her horrible and selfish. "maybe that's exactly what i wanted you to do!? but it's TOO LATE now." the brunette SCOWLS, all because he just had to find someone else. "no, i CAN'T CONTROL EVERYTHING." arms still flailing, temples about to explode from the extreme frustration pouring out of her. "but i can at least try to prevent what's most important. you, marcus, YOU. why are you SO ANGRY just because i'm– because i'm trying to protect you? from something so unpredictable. it's like a tornado... if you knew a tornado was going to strike, come tearing my way after a certain action, wouldn't you try to prevent the tornado from happening entirely by JUST not doing the action?" because that's who rory was, a tornado of a person. he was destructive and unpredictable on how much destruction he'd leave behind. "no. you didn't get it right," brows tightly creased, wildly gesturing with her left arm, the veins in her neck protruding, "you're never going to get it right because you're so FRUSTRATING. so stuck in your own head, with ALL of these wrong ideas." squeezing her eyes shut, shoving the heels of her palms into her forehead. she needed to kick a hole in the wall at this point. then threw her arms back away from her face to look back up at marcus the same moment his head dips and their gazes lock so closely on each other, of course in the moment he asks her a question she doesn't want to answer.

tensing, freezing up like a deer caught in headlights as doe eyes widened. put directly on the spot, there was no escaping her way out of this one this time. "no, i've dealt with him so many times by myself. i'm not some damsel in distress. i can deal with him all on my own." brunette claims, trying to look tougher on the outside than she was on the inside. even if it meant getting violent back, reaching for kitchen knives, throwing furniture, all in self defense. all those things she's keeping from marcus, because what if he thought she was a lunatic? or equally as terrible as rory all because she wouldn't act submissive towards his lash outs? even if so... all those times, despite how brave she was defending herself, she still had tremendous fear coursing through her. no matter how much she's claiming she didn't fear a thing. "but those were other times. they weren't times where i go up to him and reveal 'there's someone else'. i told you... he has abandonment issues." sugar coating it. "he's not the type to say fine and leave. –leave me be. leave you be. i'm scared of the last part." and then features dropped the way he said that next line, like again, him making it seem like she wanted this. "it's not! you're not listening to me," words slipping gritted through her teeth as she begged, clutching onto his shirt desperately. she wants him to stay safe from her, but doesn't want him to go his entire life thinking she's the image he's got conjured in his head. "it IS the only choice i HAVE. bad things will happen if i choose a different choice, i know they will." pleading causes tears to spill even more furiously as anxiety suffocated her, eyes burning through him, begging for him to believe her. "please, marcus. it's not because of you."

[pemprika]

hnk ch. 100 thoughts (spoilers)

Making a full-on separate post because I thought there was a lot to draw from in this recent chapter... I needed to document it, so here is my veryy long thought bubble on hnk 100:

The chapter felt like a depiction of Phos in transition to accepting themself and adapting to a new phase of peace that they hadn’t experienced before. While young Phos had a carefree life, they were perpetually stuck feeling useless, never satisfied with the way they lived, and gradually lost all their friends, selfhood, and purpose.

It’s a little difficult to emotionally match the pacing of the story considering how often the series goes on hiatus now, but note that Phos had only recently come to terms with their own flaws and the reasons why everything ended up the way it did. They had a wish to be happy, and meeting these lifeforms allowed them to realize the meaning of their existence and be more content with it.

That poetic verse was introspective and contemplative. Rather than placing worth based on certain levels, like the gems’ hardness levels or Lunarians’ caste system, these rudimentary rocks perceive that all life is made equal. For thousands of years, gems tied their own value to a designated role, and if they couldn’t fulfill it, they devalued their existence. We saw a lot of perspectives throughout Phos’ journey, including how Rutile “failed” as a doctor for being unable to fix Padapradscha on their own, or how Dia “failed'' to live up as a diamond with refined fighting skills compared to their rivaled counterpart. Again, these are just flawed traits passed down from their human predecessors and the curse of immortality.

The chapter ending conveyed a hopeful conception that all things, primitive or refined, come from the same place (nature). I struggled to connect the details mentioned in ch 97 before, but it gave us sooo much foreshadowing to this new world. Dr. Ayumu said that, “the inorganic things that we had been using for ourselves will soon have a world of their own'', alluding that these little guys that Phos met are the new world.

 Interesting how Dr. Ayumu wanted Adamant to “build the bridge” and Phos to “burn the bridge” in order to create this “beautiful, rational world” to be a more freeing and less destructive place, and refresh the Earth to avoid relying on human values and qualities to stay self-fulfilled.

I was talking with @/mlkinis who brought up an interesting theory of using rocks in this new arc to symbolize the reversion of materialism. The rocks, elements derived from basic nature, have vastly different virtues compared to the gems, a class of refined minerals that developed a habitual routine of upkeep socially and culturally. While gems are also made from the Earth, they are perceived as high-value and are often polished to be artificially beautiful. 

One Buddhist principle reflects on detaching oneself to worldly possessions and desires, such as wealth, in order to attain inner peace, and it seems that having these primitive rocks is a representation of Phos “letting go” of the gem society, which may be another way of showcasing that the world is returning back to life as the way it once was, and that Phos is on a path to attaining ultimate happiness. I’m wondering if Dr. Ayumu’s line, “When you cross that bridge, burn it” refers to Phos leaving their suffering behind as they’re going forth to being happy in this new world that is coming to be...

Anyway, upon reading the passage, along with meeting the sentient rocks and hearing its rock friend sing the verse, I felt like Phos reconciled with their own self and existence, and melted from feeling at peace ��😭!! Thank you, Ichikawa as always… This was a very cool and comforting chapter for me.