#I think I would simply like to forget about it.

[strangunddurm]

Gyltig

Pairing: Michael Robinavich x reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, possessive, toxic behaviour, oral! male receiving, established relationship, age gap, angst, alluding to child loss, breeding, pregnancy.

Summary: Michael has a secret that he was too guilty to tell anybody about. Especially Heather Collins.

A/N: I think this might be a mix of everything I personally like when reading a fic hahaha. A complete mess but oh well 🤗

Michael Robinavitch felt guilty. Hearing Heather bare her heart to him, her struggle, their shared cluster of cells that never got to be. The possibility that he could have been a father to her child. How different would his life had been? He felt bad because he wouldn’t mourn it. Wouldn’t grieve over the potential what-ifs that would plague her.

And then he had you. The happiness you brought him. The guilt he felt everyday for the life growing within you despite being the happiest he had ever been. Seeing you swell, your body change because of him had awaken a primal need inside of him that he was unfamiliar with up until that point. Sure, he had Jake and he loved Jake like his own but it was different this time around.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you. He was ashamed of the fact that he should’ve known better. He had robbed you of your youth, the supposed best years of your life, just for you to end up stuck with him. You and him would share a bond that could never be broken from now on.

Should he have told her? Told Heather about how his life would never be the same again whilst hers was… empty. It was crude and crass. Mean in a way he never wanted to be but it was the truth. Within his hands he held what she wanted the most, and he hadn’t even wanted it for the first few fleeting moments of knowing. That had filled him with guilt as well. How could he regret something so precious?

Those thoughts scared him. He was scared of the concequences. Of the potential karma, middah k’neged middah, that could come back to bite him in the ass for even thinking like that in the first place.

It was a coincidence that he met you. He wasn’t meant to. He should’ve been at work, he was always at work, but then he actually got to leave on time for the first time in weeks. As he was tiredly making his way up his front steps he was startled by an unfamiliar voice calling out his name, causing him to swivel around dangerously fast.

“Whoa, there.” You let out a giggle as you reached out in an attempt to steady him.

He didn’t know you. Had never seen you before. But god did he want to know you.

“Do I know you or-?” He let his voice trail of as he furrowed his brown in contemplation.

“Definitely not, sorry. My nana lives a couple of doors down. She insisted I left some of the cookies we made on your doorstep, didn’t think you’d be home!”

“Nana?”

“On number 4?” You waved your hand down the drive and he understood. That sweet old lady that was always kind to him, always checked in, always admired him for the work he did.

“Thank you.” He smiled tiredly as he accepted the plate of caramel cookies, his stomach rumbling appreciatively.

“You just coming back from work?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Busy day.” He laughed awkwardly as he studied you. You were beautiful to put it plain and simply. A face he would never be able to forget. A body he would think about as he fisted himself that night.

“I can image. Could never do that. Be a doctor.” You smiled again and he sighed.

“You visit your nana a lot?” He shouldn’t have asked. Should’ve left it at that, turned around and crawl back into his cave but you had captivated him in those few simple moments. Ensnared him in your being. Trapped him in between your loins without you even knowing it.

It had been inevitable after that. He sought you out. Spent more time on his lawn that he had never cared for before. Made sure to leave work on time whenever he could. It had been a welcomed change, a good change, he felt better for it but yet those thoughts still plagued him. The guilt for wanting to sink his dick into a girl that was too young for him to be thinking about. He wanted to hear you whine in his ear. To taste your slick as you gushed around his fingers. To melt into your entire being without abandon. And he would, eventually, and you would welcome him.

The first time he got you in his bed was one month after the first time he had seen you. You had been stopping by after you’d visited your Nana every Thursday and Sunday. Sometimes it was just for a chat. Sometimes he would invite you in for a cold beverage. And, eventually, it became so much more.

It was you who’d let yourself in after he worked a long shift, creeping through his house that you had grown more familiar with as you searched for him. He was sitting on the couch, hunched over his own lap with his head in his hands after another long shift, breathing heavily as he tried to will the adrenaline to leave his body.

“Long day?” Your hands slid over his shoulders as you asked your question in a way that was far too alluring for a question asked between simple friends.

“You have no idea.” Michael sighed as he leaned back, welcoming the way your hands moved to his shoulders, rubbing them firmly.

“You wanna tell me about it?” His eyes opened to meet yours as you moved to face him. He should’ve left it there. Should’ve talked to you, unload some of his burden through words yet he couldn’t do it. Instead, his hand grabbed onto your shirt, pulling you down so each of your legs rested on either side of him. You let out a giggle over his actions because they didn’t startle you, you had been greatly anticipating them. You had seen the way he would watch you, eyes heavy with lust whenever your shirt would ride just a little bit too low or your skirt would rise too high to still be decent.

“Do *you* want me to tell you about it?”

“Of course.” You ran your hand over his hair, caressing it as your hand came to rest on the back of his neck, watching as his eyes traced your face with wonder.

“Maybe later.” He murmured before reaching up to connect his lips with your own. It was like Michael could never get enough of you, biting and pulling at your lips. His tongue explored your mouth with a delighted moan. You couldn’t help but grind your hips down into his lap, gasping as you felt the large growing bulge that pushed against you. His lips found their way to your neck, suckling and leaving wet kisses in his wake. You grew wetter with every nibble.

Michael guided you to his bedroom, pushing and pulling at your clothes to undress you as you went before pushing you down on the bed as he hurriedly worked on pulling off his own shirt and jeans.

“I’ve had a really stressful day, honey. You gonna make it all better for me?” Michael asked as he gazed down at you, already dazed as you laid there on his bed. The bed that smelled like him, that was soft against your skin, and you never wanted to leave.

“Yeah.” You nodded eagerly. He was still in his boxers, hands running over your legs, up and down as he memorised the way you felt.

“You’re so sweet to me, honey, aren’t you?” He mumbled before crawling over you, his stiff cock rubbing against your thighs through his boxers as he went. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped out, and a small smile grew on Michael’s face as he heard it. Your moans were a symphony, singing through his house as he admired it.

As his lips connected with yours again, your hand trailed down, rubbing him through the material. The thickness overwhelmed you, your breath hitching as you pushed the fabric down frantically, need ing to feel it.

“Aren’t you an eager girl?” Michael pressed a kiss to your cheek, letting out a moan as you finally wrapped your fingers around him. Somehow, he felt thicker this way, long and throbbing for you as you pumped him timidly.

“God, you feel so good.” Something came over him as he heard you puff out those words, seeding with anticipation. He never thought he’d hear you say them and it awoke something in him that he couldn’t entirely control.

“You wanna have a taste, sweetheart?”

You were eager as you moved slightly to the side so he could lay down, sinking into the pillows as you came to your knees between his parted legs. Of course, you were compliant, eagerly opening your mouth to take him in. You rested your hands on his thighs to steady yourself.

He was quick to rest his hand on the back of your head, guiding you as you took him in your mouth. There was no easing into it. Not this time. Not when your mouth practically watered over the thought of tasting him, of feeling the slight tangy saltiness of him on your tongue.

Michael softly encouraged you to take him, the length of his shaft being swallowed as far as you could go, gagging around him as he hit the back of your throat.

“Shh… gentle, honey. Don’t hurt yourself.” He muttered softly, caressing your head before getting lost in the feeling of your hot mouth wrapped around him, moans and groans slipping out through his clenched teeth.

Your eyes watered as his hips almost involuntarily bucked to meet your mouth, but you loved the taste of him and couldn’t get enough of him as you hollowed your cheeks, trying to take him even further.

‘*Fuck!*’ He groaned out. You were watching him from under hooded eyelids and his gaze was intense as he stared back, eyes practically glowing with lust.

“You’re doing so well for me.”

You moaned around him, a small dollop of drool trailing down your chin. One of your hands moved from his thigh to gently play with his balls and he moaned before giving a final, small thrust into your mouth and then withdrawing himself from you.

There were tears of pleasure trickling down your cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction as you wiped your mouth clean with the back of your hand.

“Come here.” Michael went to take your hand but you drew it back, shaking your head as you smiled at him. You didn’t say anything as you turned around on the bed, sinking your front down and spreading your knees for him. Your face was down, ass up as you glanced at him over your shoulder, wiggling slightly to tease him. You needed him inside of you. You were already so unbelievably wet, practically dripping onto the sheets as your walls clamped down on nothing again.

He was admiring you. Taking his sweet time as he thought this would be the only time he would do so. You weren’t enjoying it as much as he appeared to be. You *needed* to be touched. There was this incredible yearning inside of you, it felt like your entire body was buzzing from how horny you were and the ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers closer to your core, ready to plunge them into yourself to get some kind of relief. He stopped you before you could get any further though, caressing your fingers as he used his other hand to sit up behind you.

“You’re too perfect.” He muttered it quietly to himself but you still heard him, causing your body to flush with further heat.

You were hyper-aware of his proximity, he was so close you could feel his heat against the back of your thighs, and you were ready to beg for any kind of touch, you just needed to *feel* him. But you didn’t need to beg for Michael to slide his massive fingers down the curve of your spine just a few moments later. He palmed your ass, kneading your cheeks with both hands.

“So gorgeous.” He breathed out shakily, completely enamoured at the sight of you presented for him.

“Could keep you like this for days. Fucking you until you swell.” His words sent a shiver down your spine and you were flooded with wetness again. Your thighs almost jerked as you impulsively moved backwards, seeking some sort of further contact.

“Do you want me?”

“Yes! Please, Michael, please.” You could’ve started sobbing from the need right there and then, you couldn’t take the wait any longer.

Michael spread you wide in front of him, lining up his knees with your own as he gently and slowly dragged his thick cock through your folds, coating it in your slickness. You were sure that he enjoyed torturing you; your entire body was close to convulsions caused by the anticipation, it felt like it was eating you up, swallowing you whole.

“You sure, honey?” Michael teased you, sounding far too calm and unaffected by the situation, “You sure you want an old man like me?” He started withdrawing himself from you, hands leaving your flesh, but you reacted quickly, sitting up and grabbing a hold of his wrist before he was too far away.

“No, no, no, please, Michael. Only want you, only you, please just-“You usually weren’t one to plead but it was impossible not to, you needed him more than you’d ever needed anyone before.

Michael loved hearing you beg; it was obvious from the satisfied look that flashed across his face. It was so painfully obvious that you were ready to do just about anything for his cock.

He motioned for you to get back into your previous position on all fours and then, *finally*, he pushed in, in one slow, agonising thrust, burying his thick shaft to the hilt inside of you. The entire room practically shook from the loud groan he let out as he split you open.

“Jesus Christ, you take me so fucking well.” Michael sounded like he was almost in disbelief, ecstatic from the sight of his throbbing cock disappearing into the sweetness that was you, buried deep inside your slick warmth. The burn from the stretch was welcomed as pure bliss and you couldn’t help letting out a shuddering gasp.

He let you adjust, pressing himself into you and just resting there for a moment. The way you pulsed around him was killing him. He could feel the way your body urged his to move and all he could do was heed. He moved with small, shallow thrusts before he lost the small threads of the semblance of control he had managed to somehow maintain. He pulled back, his cock leaving you entirely for a moment before he started pounding into you.

You cried out, hands bunching up his sheets as bliss ran through you.

“Feels so good.” You breathe out shakily between urgent thrusts.

“Yeah?” Michael cooed as he pulled back out. “You like my cock? I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He promised.

His thrusts were sharp and precise with an unrelenting and frenzied tempo. His grip on your hips was so becoming almost painfully tight as he used it to slam you back against him, but you didn’t care, too lost in the waves that were overtaking you. You would cherish any marks left by him on your body.

“You feel so good around my cock, honey.” He praised in a murmur. “So fucking tight.” Michael grabbed a hold of your arms, pulling you up as he continued pumping into your sweet cunt. He had you pressed flush against his chest, back arching as the sound of skin slapping and the wet squelches of your sopping wet pussy echoed around the room. It made you even more drenched; the mixture of your pleasure pooling around the base of his cock, running down the inside of your thighs.

One of Michael’s hands shifted to palm gently at your breast while the other travelled downward to roll and lightly pinch at your clit while rolling his hips and you writhed against him.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum around me?” He asked lowly in your ear. “You gonna beg me to cum inside you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, please, Michael.”

Michael pushed you down onto the bed, unsheathing himself from you.

You didn’t even have to begin to miss the feeling of him before he had wrestled you into the position he wanted you in with legs wrapped around his waist and back to the bed so that he could easily drill into you in deep but short strokes.

You felt yourself slowly losing whatever composure you had left as your muscles tighten over the coiling tension. Your walls gripped him tighter and tighter until finally, your eyes rolled back as you reached your peak, walls spasming and moan bouncing around the room. You were seeing stars as your legs shook uncontrollably from the overwhelming feeling.

Michael was relentless as he continued pumping into you throughout your convulsing climax, determined to make you feel the best you ever had, although the pace was much slower than previously. His breaths were coming out in short pants whilst your own breathy moans as you trembled.

You reached up, treading your fingers through his hair to pull him down slightly to connect your lips in a kiss. It was soft. A sort of ‘thank you for making me come’.

“You haven’t begged yet.” He murmured after a few pecks, picking up the pace of his hips once again, balls swinging as they slapped against you every time he fucked into you.

His pelvis was rubbing against your clit in a delicious way, driving you toward the edge again but you were conscious enough in your own thoughts, not yet completely lost in the pleasure again, to follow his command.

“Please, Michael, cum inside of me. I need it.” You pleaded in his ear, causing him to let out a hissed groan.

“Fuck, honey. You sound so good when you beg. He praised with a wet kiss to your lips.

You were sure he was just about to cum, but then he surprised you, flipping you over so that you were on top. Michael placed his hands behind his head, studying you with a bold look.

“Wanna make me cum, honey?” He asked and you were more than happy to comply, quickly moving to the right position so you could easily bounce up and down his cock. Was it possible for him to be as deep as he was? Your hips snapped down over and over, hands stabilizing you on his chest. You loved it when Michael was in control but seeing the way you made his mind hazy underneath you were a sight for sore eyes.

Michael’s orgasm washed over him with a deep jerk upward, spilling deeply into you with a deep groan. Your previously vigorous bounces became softer as your walls milked him dry of every last drop. You bite your lip with a smile, running your hands over his chest for comfort. He was so solid beneath you, ropes of muscles flexing involuntarily.

“You look so pretty just like that.” Michael caressed your cheek sweetly.

Now, here you were. Months later and swelled with his child. With his love. With his devotion. You would so often tell him that he made you the happiest you had ever been but he didn’t know if he truly believed you. Jealousy plagued him whenever you would go out together and he would see the way others looked at you. You were an **enigma**, lusted after by many. And that green, sickly little monster that steadily grew beneath his skin roared its ugly head whenever he would catch their eyes lingering longer than appropriate. He’d placed his heavy hand at your waist, place a kiss beind your ear, and caress the skin of your arms when he did so, showing them that you were claimed by him.

He knew what they all thought. That he was too old, you were too pretty, it would never work. But he knew you. You wanted this life with him more than anything, basking in the happiness of sweet domesticity that had enveloped you and your little family. It was forever you and him until the end, you both had ensured that.

It would be foolish to think that others hadn’t noticed the change in Robby’s demeanour. The weight that had rested on his shoulders for the last few years was lighter. Glaringly obviously so. As much as he thought he could hide it before, the act of no longer trying was abundantly clear. Michael Robinavich had found his way back to happiness.

Yet, he did not tell them why. They could guess, muse over what they thought the cause to be. Maybe he started going to a new therapist? Tried a new workout form? Finally got laid?

No matter how relentless the questions where, the teasing glances, he never let them know. Not until you happened to walk into the E.R. on a Thursday afternoon.

You waltzed in to the Pitt with a smile that tasted of sunshine, with glee evident in every stride. Your hips swayed under the weight of your belly, yet the literal pep in your step couldn’t even be held down by it. You had slinked in through the ambulance bay, just as he’d instructed if ever you needed to. as much as he wanted to keep you all to himself, to never tell anybody of his precious, he couldn’t bring himself to stop you from seeing him whenever you wanted to or needed to.

Dana saw you first. Eyebrows raising slightly over the apparent audacity of sneaking in and then furrowing with worry when she saw your belly, concerned that something was wrong with you.

“Miss, can I help you?”

Her voice had startled you for a moment, mouth forming into an ‘o’ as you abandoned your search for something she wasn’t quite sure about.

“Oh, yes please! I’m looking for Michael.” You smiled and Dana was puzzled.

“Michael?”

“Doctor Robinavich?”

“I think he’s busy right now. Perhaps one of our other doctors can look you over? Is something wrong with the baby?” Dana led you over to one of the chairs in the hallway, nudging you to sit down as you cradled your stomach, letting out a small huff as you did so.

“No, I don’t think so?” You were puzzled, too tired to understand why she was concerned.

“It’s best if somebody has a look.” She said with a tone of finality that left you speechless, nodding your head as she apparently knew best.

It was a rush and tumble of limbs as Doctor McKay introduced herself to you, pulled you up with a helping arm, and had you ushered into a room and onto a gurney in the huff of a breath.

“How far along are you?”

”Oh, ehm… 32 weeks” McKay pressed gently and firmly on your stomach as he asked you some routine questions that you tried to answer to the best of your ability.

“Have you had any pain or tenderness today?”

“Could you get Dr. Robinavich?” Your question caused her to pause in her movements, a contemplative look being shared between her and Dana.

“Have you been to the E.R. recently?”

“No?” You looked unsure over your own answer.

“Dr. McKay, do you need help in here?” Michael’s voice carried through the room with a startle, yet it didn’t scare you. He pushed the curtain aside, pausing as he saw you laid there with your round stomach bared to the world, his child inside of you, and all sense of composure left his body. Your name left him almost breathlessly as he felt a cold shiver of fear run through him.

“Hi!” You chirped, happy to see him despite the situation you had somehow found yourself in. “I brought your lunch.” You motioned to the bag you had been lugging with you that was now resting on the floor.

“Lunch?” It wasn’t he that asked, it was McKay who had taken a step back from you, looking even more bewildered than before.

“Mhmm… I made lasagna.” You smiled at her.

“Lasagna.” Dana inserted herself, looking at Robby with an expression that was clearly asking for an explanation. “You said you were hurt?” She questioned you and Robby felt dizzy again over the possibility.

“No, I don’t think I said that…” You sounded unsure once more, hands smoothing over your belly as if yo check.

“You hurt yourself?” Michael asked you, ignoring his coworkers that were watching the situation unfold.

“You left before I gave you your lunch.” Your voice sounded small and Michael felt his heart ache. He crossed the small space, coming up beside you, taking your hand in both of his.

“I’m sorry.” He gave you a small smile, overwhelmed by the way you *cared* for him. He hadn’t felt that in a while, not in this way.

“Baby okay then?”

“Yeah, baby okay.” You nodded your head.

Dana and McKay watched as Robby caressed your stomach in a way that was too familiar, looked down at you with a softness in his eyes and a too sweet smile for you to be just a patient.

He helped you up and they quite slinked out through the curtains, sharing a look that screamed “what-the-fuck” before Dana looked around as if wondering if she had imagined it all.

“What the hell is going on today?” It was a rhetorical question. Asked to herself more than anyone else. Had she overworked her self so much that she was imagining things? But, of course, she wasn’t. Not to that extent. She hadn’t been alone with you and Robby.

The curtain was drawn back with a startle. Ronny walking out and you followed behind him, stomach tucked away in your shirt but it was still there. Still real.

“Sorry about that, ladies.” Dana almost wanted to laugh at Robby’s attempt to brush them aside. She knew that he knew she wouldn’t just let this slide.

“Let me follow you out.” Michael murmured to you, placing a tender hand on your lower back as he steered you toward the exit.

“I’m sorry.” You said as the two of you came to a standstill outside of the Pitt, looking down at your shoes with uncertainty.

“You don’t need to apologise, honey.” Michael let out a small laugh as he encircled you in his arms.

“But I- your colleagues thought…”

“They needed something to talk about anyways, today’s been to quite.”

“I don’t think you should say that word.”

“No, probably not.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Thank you for lunch.”

“I made lasagna.”

“So I heard. You ate, too?”

“Mhmm, baby was hungry.”

“Good.” Another kiss, another caress to your stomach, feeling his baby kick before you were on your way back home to the house you now shared.

Robby watched you go long after you had disappeared, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions that would face him once he entered back through those doors. His hands rested on his shoulders, massaging the invisible knots in his neck before he spun around on his heels.

He had barely had a chance to sit down before Dana materialised in front of him.

“Something you wanna tell me, Robby?” Dana asked, looking at him with feigned disapproval.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Robby pretended to be far too invested in the screen in front of him.

“No? You don’t happen to be more than half way to being a daddy? I doubt it’s somebody else’s kid in there.”

Robby glowered over the thought that somebody else had made you the way that you were. It was his doing. His achievement. He was the one that had fucked you until tears leaked from your eyes, over and over again. He was the one that had filled your womb with his cum as he grunted and groaned, fucking into you without abandon and pumping his cum into you to make sure it stayed. He’d wanted it to stick then, a baseless fantasy that eventually became reality.

“See, that look on your face tells me everything I need to know.” Dana let out a sharp laugh.

“Look, I don’t-“

“You think I’m stupid or something? She looked awfully young.”

“‘Course not.”

“Then what the hell?”

“I know it’s wrong, I know I’m a dirty old bastard, alright? I just- it felt… it was never the right time to say anything about it. Not here.” He leaned toward her, whispering the words as he glanced around the E.R. He knew the sight of you and him and yours had stirred the surface of the gossiping pool. The nurses didn’t even have to hide it as they eagerly tried to listen to the words their chief and charge nurse were exchanging.

And then he saw her. Heather. Michael Robinavich didn’t want to share his joy because he knew about her pain. It wasn’t because he still loved her or had lingering feelings of any kind. He just didn’t want to cause her more heartache. And then the guilt came rushing back. For everything, over nothing.

Heather watched him from afar, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip as somebody whispered his secret in her ear. And he wished he could have told her first. Robby felt as if he had owed her that much at least. But it was too late and he didn’t know if he wanted to see whether she’d be happy for him or broken. So, he looked away.

“I hope you know you owe me a pay raise for keeping that from me, you dirty old man.” Dana slapped a hand against his shoulder as she let out a laugh, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

He grumbled, putting his glasses back on to return to his work.

“So, how did you two meet anyways? You snatched her from a kindergarten?”

[cherryite]

and they were roommates...

summary. being roommates with your friend (and longtime crush) mark isn't all its cracked up to be (w.c 2.1k)

content. fem!reader x mark grayson, roommate!reader, friends to lovers, slight idiots in love

warnings. MDNI!!!!, smut, mark... lowkey creeping but kinda not his fault, masturbation, voyeurism?, mark is jorking it rip, not proofread lol

author's note. hi so this is insane that i just wrote this but it was driving me crazy so i did it anyway.... have fun!! (i'm also aware viltrumites don't technically have crazy good hearing but have u seen how those fuckers act in the show.... like how did they hear that shit...)

All you wanted was a moment to yourself. A little release.

Having a roommate who can hear a pin drop doesn’t help with this predicament. It especially doesn’t help that that person is Mark. So the fact that Mark has been gone on a mission off-planet for two days gives you the perfect window to release it.

Your room is dim, the only light coming from the fairy lights strung across your walls and the amber glow of your bedside lamp. A slow, sultry track plays from the speaker, the music wrapping around your thoughts like smoke. You stare up at the ceiling, your face blank and your jaw tight. 

You groan, your hands coming up to cover your face, dragging them down as your mind spins. It’s not just stress, it's a deep ache within you. One that's been cooking in your stomach for weeks, constantly being ignored or pushed down until it was just a dull throb between your legs. 

Sighing, you grumble to yourself, dragging your hand down to the waistband of your flimsy sleep shorts. You have been practically unable to get off since moving in with Mark. It felt entirely not cool for you to finger fuck yourself when he was a room over, able to hear everything. Barely ten feet across the hall. 

Especially not when the thoughts in your head, the ones that get you closest, almost always end up looking like him. Kind, awkward, stupidly strong, with that boyish voice and a stupid habit of acting like he doesn’t know how good looking he is. You could never tell him that though, your brain makes up terrible scenarios about what would happen if you actually confessed to being helplessly in love with him. Because what if he teased you? Or looked at you weird? Not that Mark would ever do that, you know that, he’s too sweet, too polite… too Mark.

“I’m so pathetic,” you mumble to yourself as you slide your hands below the waistband of your shorts. But the deep need outweighs any guilt and your eyes flutter shut, your breath slows.

You find yourself thinking about his voice. You think about the way he leans in when he’s tired and forgets to keep his distance, his breath fanning over your face. You think about the heat of his body when he brushes past you in the kitchen. You think about the way he says your name when he’s laughing. And the way he’s sound if he wasn’t. 

~

Mark wearily opens the door to the apartment, his suit tattered, covered in bruises and cuts. Every muscle in his body is screaming in protest as he closes it behind him. He winces, reminding himself the next time Cecil wants him to go do something in space to decline. It’s late, the darkness outside flooding over all the surfaces of the apartment. 

Mark notices your shoes by the front door. You must be home. 

He silently shuts the front door, hovering a bit over the ground, just in case his footsteps woke you up. He can’t help his mind drifting to you, his chest squeezing as he runs a hand through his hair. He can daydream later. Currently, he needs ice and silence, and maybe a new spine.

The hallway is dark around him, save for the tiny amount of light that seeps through the crack in the bottom of your door. Mark floats his way down the hallway, about to just simply pass your door then his ears pick up noises from your room. He typically tries not to eavesdrop on you. Whenever you’re on the phone with a friend, he’s busy turning up the volume on his headphones to the max, stuff like that. But he does pick up a soft, choked breath mixed in amongst your music. 

He freezes, his body stilling instantly as he furrows his brows. His ears pick up a rustle of sheets, a faunt creak of a spring in your mattress both typical bed noices. What he hears next is not typical. 

A whimper, slightly muffled. It’s faint, soft, and it immediately makes his skin prickle. Heat immediately climbs up his neck, his ears growing hot. He steadies himself on the wall next to your door, attempting to control his breathing, as if even a breath could give him away.

 He knows he shouldn’t linger, he knows he shouldn’t. He knows he should just go to his room and blast white noise in his ears until his brain is mush. But his stomach twists as he can hear the wet slap of the intrusion of your fingers, pumping in and out of you steadily. He really should go now, but he’s frozen. His hand moving to cover his mouth, muffling his own voice and the sounds that threaten to pull themselves from his throat. His free hand presses to his eyes, pressing hard into the bone of his brow, trying to free himself from the mind control that's possessing him right now. 

He should leave. But the noises you're making continue to penetrate his ears. Subtle but unmistakable, a distinct sound that's steady, rhythmic. The slick slide of fingers moving through arousal. 

And then he hears it. 

It’s breathy, he almost thinks he hallucinated it before he hears it again. 

“Mark.”

A soft gasp, completely unguarded and raw. His name, moaned from your lips, softly in the dark. He can feel himself unraveling and his knees nearly give out.

His hand drifts downward before he even realizes it, gripping his semi-hard cock through the material of his tattered suit. The contact is sharp, jarring, and it sends a shiver of heat down his spine. His breathing is ragged now, chest rising and falling far too fast. He’s being too loud, as he stares at your door like it’s the only thing tethering him to this life. He squeezes his hard on, rubbing himself through the fabric as his ears pick up another moan that drops from your lips.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s sick. It’s invasive. But he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you’re on the other side of that door, touching yourself and saying his name. Mark feels like he’s burning alive with every small breath that puffs out of your lips. 

He hears another noise. This one is higher, needier, and it sucks all the air from his lungs. His body shudders against your door frame as his free hand clenches the waistband of his pants, his other hand still stroking himself through the fabric, pressure building fast as he speeds up his motions. He’s never heard anything like this before. Never felt anything like this before. The sounds you're making, the sound of how wet you are echoing in his ears.

It’s like something has him under a spell. He can’t leave. He can’t even breathe.

The sounds get louder, more desperate, closer to the edge. He can hear your head fall back against your pillow, the sloppy sound of your wet pussy as you plunge your fingers into yourself. He can nearly hear the sound of your walls suctioning your fingers back in and it makes his stomach curl. He can hear your quiet whimpers, softing muttering to yourself, his name mixing with desperate whines. With that, his world shrinks to the thin sliver of light beneath your door, his eyes focusing on the light at his feet.

The tempo of your breathing shifts. And when he hears another breathy, gasping moan; high, sweet, needy, he nearly cums right then. The sound of your fingers moving inside of yourself is steady, wet, rhythmically obscene. He actually groans behind his hand which flies up to cover his mouth, his head nearly thunking gently against your bedroom door.

 His forehead falls against the door mutely, mouth open, panting quietly as he can, like he’s not getting enough oxygen. His hips jerk forward into his hand, he doesn’t even notice how he’s grinding against the door, how his fingers are gripping himself tight, how dizzy he feels as his cock twitches beneath the material.

He’s never going to forget this, he realizes as he finally grabs his cock in his hand. The way you sound. The way you say his name. The way he feels right now, feverish and completely undone. He’s so close, the way his gut twists and the way his hand is barely in control as he jerks himself sends his mind blank and reeling.

Another breathy moan breaks the air and Mark loses the last thread of control. He bites down on his hand to prevent himself from making noise, his eyes half-lidded as his release nears its end. His hand moves faster, squeezing himself with no mercy, jerking himself with deep seeded need as his cock spurts cum all over the front of his suit. Jerking himself a few more times, his mind clears. Staring down at the mess he’s made of himself, his body still thrumming with need, he shakily backs up from your door, silently slipping into his own room to contemplate what he’s done.

~

Mark stands in the kitchen, sloveling some sugary cereal into his mouth. It’s early, sunlight filtering through the windows, basking the kitchen in a golden glow. He leans against the counter, already halfway through the bowl of cereal, his hair damp from a shower and sticking slightly to his forehead. He hasn’t slept. Not really. A couple of hours of half consciousness, his brain too wired and guilty to fully allow sleep to wash over him. He just keeps chewing, his mind too preoccupied to think about anything else, jaw clenched.

He heard his name.

Heard it. From your mouth. Soft and broken and drenched with pleasure. Pure ecstasy.

And now here he is, eating cereal like nothing happened. Like he didn’t spend at least 30 full minutes last night with his hand down his pants and his heart in his throat as he thought of you.

He startles at the sound of your door opening, milk from his cereal dripping out of the corner of his mouth.

You step into the kitchen tiredly, still half-dressed in your pajamas, a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts that barely cover anything. He can't help the way his breath catches in his throat. He keeps his eyes on the floor in front of him, shoveling another spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

“You’re back,” you say, voice still raspy with sleep, a smile on your face. “When’d you get in?”

Mark doesn’t look up, trying to calm his racing heart. “Late. You were already asleep.”

You nod, moving toward the cabinet to grab a mug. “I left my music on last night, I hope it didn’t keep you up. I didn’t think you’d be home until tonight.”

Mark lets out a weak, almost hysterical little laugh before coughing to cover it, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “It didn’t bother me.”

You pour yourself some coffee, standing beside him like everything is normal, like your bare thigh isn’t brushing his. He tenses at the contact, his heart beating against his ribcage.

“I missed you,” you say, casual but soft, looking up at him through the steam that wafts from your cup. “Glad you’re okay.”

Mark finally brings himself to look at you, and for one breathless moment, he thinks you know. That you can see it on him, feel the tension in his shoulders, the heat radiating off him. But your expression is open, sweet, oblivious.

And that makes it worse. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

“I missed you too,” he says, and he means it. After last night, he realized how much he missed you when you weren’t near. How he missed your laugh when he did something totally nerdy. How you were always so attentive when he was rambling about comics. How your lips would curl when you saw him. He unfortunately, could deny it no longer; he had a huge crush on you and last night had only made it worse.

You smile at him, eyes warm and slightly sleepy. Mark turns back to his bowl of cereal and focuses on them as they bob around in the milk like they hold the secret to how to deal with these feelings. Anything to keep from looking at you too long. Anything to stop his brain from replaying those sounds, those words. 

He’ll tell you eventually, but for now, he keeps your sounds to himself. Locked away in his brain, bound to torture his dreams for a long time.

[magnoliaswriteatsunset]

I watched a reel showing what Zayne said after being gone for 30 days. I can’t help but wonder about something.

Imagine this:

We are the MC. We are because we customized her and the cafe can show time passing from morning to evening, then night based on the time of where we are/the server. Usually, we/MC always tells the guys/chosen love interest(s) if we are leaving. We can say good night and hello when we meet.

But something bugs me.

When we exit the game and leave for 30 days, sometimes less, sometimes more, they send messages. Try to get in touch. Search the spots we frequent. Check in on things we left behind to keep them in order and in good shape for when we return. They don’t know when we’ll come back. If we’ll ever come back. All they know how to do is wait. Wait for someone who seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet.

A thought occurred to me.

What if the reason no one can find us, and the reason no one else seems too concerned, is because in their world once we exit the game, MC, us, our avatar, the only way for us to show and give our love to the guys, ceases to exist, but are not completely erased.

The side characters are none the wiser, believing we were sent away on a classified mission or simple were too busy to socialize with their peers. However, the love interests are different. They are aware of the situation to some extent, at the least. They know us well by now. They know we wouldn’t disappear without good reason. And the threats surrounding us are ever present. But something’s off. If that were true, and we were taken by force, they know we wouldn’t go without a fight. They know we would have left traces of *something* behind. Anything. From a knocked over glass to cameras watching over Linkon. They would have found it. But no. It’s like once we step foot outside the game, out side of Destiny Cafe, we simply cease to exist.

The space itself is empty, save for the lone chair the love interests lounge in, only allowing one at a time. No staff to take your order, no customers chatting idly in the background as they sip on their drinks and eat whatever food they bought earlier, no people passing by the windows or coming in and out of the building. Just us, our love interest, and this empty space all to ourselves, playing music of our choice non-stop.

I think we forget, at times, that we have more power over this “world” than we realize. That our choices, feelings and thoughts have sway over how we perceive their world.

But what really gets me, is that it’s as though there is mutual comfort to be found.

Comforting us by easing our worries, waiting for us, the world refusing to turn unless we arrive. Comforting them by interacting with them, touching them, conversing with them, sometimes reacting to what is going on beyond the screen in eerily perfect timing, even though they don’t know what’s actually going on. They are just programmed to do so. Nothing more, nothing less.

Here’s what gets me, though.

We have all this interaction, all this time together, chatting, studying, working (while trying to act like or blatantly staring at each other), playing, or even sleeping together (literally just sleeping, like a nap with the phone on because your too exhausted to exit beforehand). Then suddenly, it’s like we’re a ghost. Gone. No one else has seen us. The only thing left is the echoes of where we once stood.

I wonder,

Do they wait in that chair, acting as though we exist beyond those cafe walls? As if they’ll find us on a walk in the park or fighting to protect Linkon? Do they sit and wait, switching out from time to time to try and see who will get to be in the cafe when you arrive?

So many questions.

Perhaps, in their world, you are the only thing that helps time move forward. Everything else feels flat and stagnant. As their whole world encompasses this small room.

Do you know?

Do you understand what they do while they wait?

Do you feel the same longing and yearning for them as they do for you?

Do you wait? For them? Or is the world around you able to keep you company? Unlike their own. At least, not the way yours does.

Will you ever get to be with them? No longer being stuck behind a screen and wall of code. Would you still love them, without that safety net? Or would it be too much for either of you to bear?

…..

I deviated a bit from where I originally planned to go but I’ll expand more on these later. What do you think? What ideas are bouncing around in that brain of yours? (I also put stuff down in the tags if your interested by it’s mostly just little note from me.

[hjsmermaid]

˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° 🎥 ...🍓 ˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° 🎥 ...🚬˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° 🎥

“ and even if i run away, give my heart a holiday, still, strawberries and cigarettes, always taste like you.. “

pairing ⋆˚࿔ ateez jung wooyoung x fem!reader

trope/au ⋆˚࿔ first love, bittersweet reunion, love vs career/dreams, high school sweet heart

genre ⋆˚࿔ coming-of-age, angsty sorta, hurt/comfort, songfic, reader who is on the edge of leaving her hometown to finally follow her dreams, she finds herself pulled back into the memories of a boy that she once loved: a runaway with cigarette kisses and strawberry-sweet summers. years later as she packs her life into boxes, the past resurfaces in scent, sound, but even more so, silence, reminding her that some things are never fully let go.

word count ⋆˚࿔ 3.8k

warnings ⋆˚࿔ cigarette smoking, themes of running away, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed something!!:)

inspired by ⋆˚࿔

the memories never knocked. they drifted in like mist, soft and strange. occasionally, they came with the bitter trace of cigarettes on the wind as she pedaled through the wild grass, the ocean winking at her just beyond the sand mingling with greenery. other times they liked to wait in forgotten corners-like the day she found the little bottle tucked beneath moth-eaten clothes and trinkets. it’s label whispered some cheesy fragrant name like ‘strawberry daydreams.’ she sprayed it, just once, trying to remember what a strawberry daydream could possibly even smell like. that was all it took. it bloomed into visions: fence-hopping laughter, smoke laced with sugar, moonlit walks where the waves kept record of their conversations that she couldn’t recall. and a boy with long hair, brown eyes, and a name she hadn’t said in years.

the flashbacks didn’t exactly haunt her - they held her. like a soft and spectral hug from a ghostly friend. she was only sixteen years old then: young, reckless, wrapped in sunlight and sugar, without a single care to her name. those were the days that she lived with the scent of strawberry daydreams swirling around her. the days where she wasn’t worried about the salt in her hair. the days where the nights seemed to last forever when she was with him.

she smiled softly, holding those memories with nothing but fondness and love, for him at least. that boy could never give her the world, he simply didn’t have that. but god, was she his entire world. therefore, he gave her all that he had, all that he was. she would’ve given him the same, had her parents not pulled her away, calling him a fleeting distraction. merely a summer shadow with no place in her future. how could she ever forget the way they took her away from him? it was the night before school would start again, her senior year. she cried until dawn, the weight of goodbye settling in her chest like the heaviest stone. to them, it had only been a summer fling with some troublesome boy, hopeless puppy love. but to her? it had been everything, it felt like the world was ending then.

and yet, now, years later, she could smell that perfume and smile. not necessarily with sadness, but with warmth. it was like sea glass to her. the good rose to the surface, softened by time and shining in the sun. now she stood on the wrong side of twenty five, the years moved by so slyly that she hadn’t even noticed they’d passed. she was finishing up the final threads of her education, packing up the last few knick knacks into a vintage leather suitcase, and finally ready to leave the coastal town that raised her. it was strange, how the scent of a forgotten perfume could crack her wide open, how the memories spilled out of her and down the sides of her body like hot sugar. and though the past tugged at her sleeves, she didn’t turn around. not this time, not for her parents, not for anyone. the world beyond the tides was calling her and she was finally, ready to leave it all behind. at least that’s what she thought.

those thoughts didn’t usually stay for long. they drifted in and out, quiet and fleeting, like so many others. but these past few days were different. while she was packing her life up into cardboard boxes to give away, only wanting to bring that one suitcase as she prepared to leave - he kept coming back. the boy she thought she’d left in the past - his voice, his laugh, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the whole world. she couldn’t shake it. she couldn’t explain why he was lingering now, why for some reason his memory felt heavier than usual. maybe he didn’t want to let her go, and maybe some part of her didn’t either. the taste of strawberries and the stench of cigarettes still clung to those long, hot summers. she couldn’t help but remember how it felt to be sixteen and certain that kind of love would last a lifetime.

the worst part of it all was that, even if she wanted to find him, (and deep down, she always did) she wouldn’t know where to begin. he dropped out of school before junior year was over, even before then, he’d always skip out on classes. he disappeared from the hallways and lunch tables as though he’d never even been there at all. no phone, no social media, no address that anyone could give her.

the only time she ever saw his face again was on those missing posters his parents would plaster around town when he would vanish. he had a habit of running, it seemed. sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. she remembered seeing the first flyer like a punch to the chest-pinned to the bulletin board outside the gas station, “JUNG WOOYOUNG” printed in big bold letters, a photo of him cheekily grinning smeared in black and white. it had been just days after her parents had banned them from seeing each other then. she stood there in the fading afternoon light, staring at it for far too long, like the ink might blur into something different if she just waited long enough.

after that, the posters came and went. she’d see them on telephone poles, convenience store windows, tacked to cork boards in laundromats. the first one had shaken her, fifth or sixth didn’t. not because it didn’t matter, but because it started to feel like that was just who he was: someone the world was always losing track of. and his poor dad, he was always worried sick every time he’d leave to god knows where he was going. and no one ever told her where he went, or if he was okay when he’d come back. no one asked her if she wanted to know, maybe they thought she didn’t care anymore. maybe they didn’t realize she looked for him in in every crowd, still checked the corners of every parking lot and beach side diner, just in case. because love like that doesn’t really go anywhere, it just quiets down and waits for when you might slow down just enough to hear it.

that’s why in the days leading up to her move, she kept herself as busy as possible. every hour had to be filled with something — anything. she poured herself into job applications, hoping to have work whenever she would arrive at her new abroad apartment. her brand new degree still fresh in her hand, as if forward motion could keep the past at bay. but even while typing out cover letters and tweaking resumes, her mind wandered. she found herself thinking about him, about what he might’ve done with his life if he’d ever just given himself a chance. if someone had just believed in him in the way that she did.

sometimes she’d ride her bike for miles, pushing her body than she usually would with prayers that the memories would drain from her just as the sweat poured down her skin. but the moment she neared the coast, the stretch of the beach where they used to smoke under the fading sun, her heart would start to ache. the salty breeze carried far too much of him. she couldn’t help but wonder if he ever went back there, to that quiet patch of sand just beyond the dunes, lighting a cigarette with his head tilted to the side like he always did.

she visited her parents far more often too. they were thrilled every time, always smiling, always welcoming her in with open arms. she was their only child, and they’d always done what they thought was the best for her. even when “best” meant keeping her from the only boy that she’d ever really loved. they’d eat together, laugh at old stories, slip back into old rhythms just like no time had passed at all. and for a while, it worked. for a while, it felt like she’d finally shaken him loose. that was until her mother, halfway through a laugh and a glass of wine, said it. it was so light that it seemed as though it didn’t mean anything at all.

“do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d let you run off with that boy?”

and just like that, he was back again.

she didn’t answer right away. her fork paused midair, the warmth of the room suddenly pressing against her too closely. her mother had already moved on, laughing about something her father said that she hadn’t heard because her mind was still being delayed a few moments. the question was tossed out so casually, as if it hadn’t just reopened the door that she had been trying so desperately to shut. but now, it was open again, and everything came rushing back, like opening a door during a flood.

because of course she wondered, she’d wondered every day for months after it ended. when she’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, tracing the shape of his name in her mind like some sort of mantra. she wondered when her first heartbreak dulled into something quiet, something that she could carry. and she still wondered now, now a woman, standing on the edge of her future, unsure why the past felt so close that she could almost touch it. would he have stayed if she’d run with him? would she have left school? would they have made it, or fallen apart even faster? the truth was that she’d never know. and maybe not knowing was its own heartbreak in itself.

she blinked, forced a smile and set her fork down with a clink, she was no longer hungry. “sometimes,” she muttered softly. it wasn’t a lie, but it was a half truth. and that was it. her mom nodded like she understood, and maybe she did. but no one said anything else about what could’ve been with the brown eyed boy.

later that night as she drove home, the waves seemed to be calling her name. it wasn’t loud, but rather just a quiet pull, a voice carried by the breeze. to her, the sea had always been like an old best friend. the kind that you used to see everyday, who once knew every corner of your heart, but now nothing more passed between you than a distant nod, a small smile, a silent understanding. the road home hadn’t changed, but it felt so different now. it was empty in a way that it never used to be.

she remembered riding this same stretch years ago, her legs curled up in the passenger seat of his beat-up red ‘66 ford fairlane. the windows were always down, the radio way too loud, the air thick with salt and smoke and youth. the car would bounce and squeak gently over the uneven pavement as they coasted towards the shore, and the wind would tangle itself in her hair until it stuck to her cheeks. she’d laugh without a thought in her mind, just because it felt good to be alive. and he — he would glance over at her like he couldn’t even believe that she was real. one hand on the wheel, the other tapping to the beat of whatever 70s song he had playing on the radio. sometimes he’d sing along, off-key and unashamed, but most of the time he just watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. it had felt easy then, like the road would never end.

but now? now the sunroof was shut, the windows were sealed. she sat hunched over the steering wheel, the only sound in the car being the beeping from her undone seat belt, and even more so, the silence that blared louder than any other song could. she caught her reflection in the rear view mirror and barely recognized the girl who used to ride shotgun in his car. somewhere among the way, they had both changed. grown up. apart. but tonight, it felt like her past was just one turn away. and for a split second, she pondered what she’d do if she saw that red fairlane parked by the beach again, waiting, just like it used to do.

her eyes drifted from the rear view mirror to the soft glow of the screen on her dashboard. 11:48pm. just over six hours until she had to be out of her apartment, her flight left at dawn. she looked back at the road, then toward the beach as it came into view — dark and wide and endless. the moonlight spilled across the water and the waves rolled in slow and steady, like they were grieving something they couldn’t name. it felt like the sea was crying for her.

realistically, she didn’t have time. not to stop, not to linger, not to chase a memory that may not even exist anymore. but this was her last chance, because once she stepped onto that plane, the version of her that had once belonged to this town, the girl who had laughed barefoot in the sand with him at 16, who had believed that love could be enough, she’d be gone forever. if she left now, without looking back, she knew it would be over. whatever fragile thread that still connected them would snap for good.

so she made the only choice that felt right.

she flipped her turn signal and veered off the road, the tires crunching softly against the gravel path leading down to the beach. she parked where they used to park — behind the brush, where the headlights wouldn’t be seen from the road. her hands rested on the steering wheel for a moment, motionless. then, slowly, she stepped out into the night. the wind met her like an old friend. with each step she took, memories rose from the sand like ghosts murmuring secrets into her ears from every corner.

she didn’t head straight to the old spot where they used to sit and smoke. instead, she stumbled out into the sand, letting the cool grains shift beneath her shoes. the night air hit her first — brisk and sharp, carrying the scent of salt and memory. the wind tugged at her hair and narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t raise a hand to shield her face. she just stood there, letting it wash all over her. it was strange, being back after all this time. it was familar and almost comforting. the waves still rolled in with their same steady rhythm, the shoreline still curved in that gentle crescent. the only difference was that he wasn’t here with her, and that changed everything. she hadn’t set foot on this sand in years. not since the last summer they’d spent together. and now, as she stood there with the cold biting at her skin and the sky stretched wide and endless above her, she felt the weight of everything she was about to leave behind.

it bothered her more than she thought it would, that soon she’d be trading this for city streets packed with neon lights, strangers, skyscrapers, and the constant hum of traffic. she could already feel how much she’d miss the silence, the space, the way that the stars actually meant something here. the ocean had always been her constant. even when she couldn’t come to it, it was always here. just simply knowing that it existed was a comfort. and now, she was walking away from it, like it was just another chapter that she had to leave behind when it was so much more than that. a single tear slipped down her cheek. it wasn’t gut-wrenching or soul-crushing, she didn’t have a breakdown, it was just one tear. she didn’t even wipe it away.

how strange, she thought. that we cry the same salt that fills the sea. maybe that’s why it always felt like home to her. because it spoke the same language that she did.

she stood still for a moment longer, lost in her thoughts, before brushing the tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. her gaze dropped to the sand and she slowly began to walk to what she remember to be the smoke spot, one foot in front of the other. she tried to recall the path they used to take — half remembered steps etched somewhere deep in her muscle memory, like a trail that had been carved by heart and by habit. the wind had shifted slightly and the sand was cool under her shoes. little shadows danced in the moonlight, cast by uneven dips and scattered brush. he used to warn her about that, how the critters like to dig holes in the dry patches, how easy it was to twist an ankle if she wasn’t careful. she could still hear his voice in her mind, that half-laughing tone he’d use when he teased her for being too clumsy. so she kept her eyes down, focused on each step, determined not to fall. and in that focus, she almost missed it.

she came to a slow stop. the ground leveled out beneath her, a small clearing framed by tall grass and the faint outline of driftwood nearby. she looked up and around the area. this was it. this was the spot. somehow, after all these years, it hadn’t changed. the same soft slope of the dunes on either side. the same crooked log they used to sit on, one of the sides half-buried, but still there. it looked untouched, preserved like a memory that she didn’t know the world had been keeping safe for her.

that’s when she felt it — something small and firm beneath the sole of her shoe. an exhale left her throat, long and slow before she lowered her gaze again. she lifted her foot carefully, and there it was.

a cigarette.

it wasn’t crushed, or old, or withered. it was fresh, like it couldn’t have been dropped any more than an hour ago. for a second, she couldn’t move. she just stared at it, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and throat. she crouched down, brushing some of the sand aside. there was no mistaking it. same brand he always smoked, it had that same lazy twist in the filter where he used to hold it too long in between his fingers.

her fingers hovered above the cigarette for a moment before she picked it up, rolling it around between her thumb and forefinger. her heart was pounding relentlessly now, steady and strong in her ears. in some sense, it felt like somehow her heartbeat had seeped out of her body and melted into the earth around her in this moment. it could’ve been anyone else’s, sure. someone else could’ve wandered through here, lit up, and moved on. but somehow, she knew better than that. this brand, this place, this timing. it was far too specific.

she stood up cautiously, scanning the area with new eyes. she wasn’t even completely sure what she was looking for now. footprints? a shadow, maybe? something more left behind? the quiet hum of the ocean filled her ears, but now there was something underneath it, something that her instincts caught before her senses did.

movement.

swiftly, she turned towards it. the movement had been nothing more than a slight shift in the dark near the edge of the dunes where the brush grew tall. her body stilled and her breath bounced in her throat, unsure of whether or not to exhale or inhale. it crossed her mind that maybe she was just imagining it all. but then he stepped forward.

he looked almost exactly the same. older, yes. sharper around the jaw, leaner, a little bit more worn down by time, but it was still her boy nonetheless. same too-long brown hair falling over his forehead, same damn brown eyes. his hands were in his jacket pockets but it wasn’t hard to tell that he was fidgeting around. as if he didn’t know if she’d be happy to see him. at first, she didn’t even move. it seemed like she was terrified to blink because if she did then maybe it would all fade away. but then she blinked, and he still stood there. a single sound escaped her mouth that made the world stop spinning.

“wooyoung?”

he smiled

god, his smile.

“you were always better at finding your way here than me,” he uttered softly, voice carried by the wind. it was tentative, but familiar.

she didn’t say anything right away. instead, she looked down at the fresh cigarette in her hand, then back up to the face that had been stalking her dreams for the past few, long days.

“you left this,” she commented, her voice quiet. not accusing - just stating the truth.

he nodded, stepping just a few steps closer to the only girl he had ever genuinely loved. anyone else watching them might think he wasn’t excited to see her - but he was ecstatic, she was just the only one who knew him well enough to see it.

“i wasn’t sure if you’d come.” he paused for a moment, smiling a bit wider and looking out to the water. “figured if you did … i’d let the beach tell you first.”

a gummy smile grew across her face and a nervous, breathless laugh that could’ve been mistaken as a sigh escaped her lips, “you haven’t changed.”

“you have,” he countered. “not in a bad way.”

for a moment, they just looked at each other. it’s all that the either of them could even begin to muster up. the silence stretching out between the two like a bridge, everything that was unsaid humming in the air around them.

finally, she took a slow step forward. then another. until she was standing just a few feet from him, heart pounding, eyes burning, unsure what would come next.

“you waited for me,” she breathed out.

he looked down at her, flashing her a small smile, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes, “i never really left.”

to this, all she could do was blush and smile. it felt like she had traveled back in time, she was 16 on the beach all over again.

he reached in his pocket, pulling out a box of montego red kings. he popped the box open and swiftly propped the cigarette in between his teeth. he hesitated, holding the blue lighter in his other hand. he could’ve easily lit it up himself, but he knew there was something that she would enjoy so much more. he softly placed the lighter in her hand, making sure to trace his fingers across hers as he did, she smiled knowingly. he finally spoke up again.

“light my cigarette?”

a/n ⋆˚࿔ okay so yeah this is my first post and i’m super proud of this haha! randomly came across this song after not hearing it for years and looking at pics wooyoung on pinterest brought about this fic lol. i really hope you enjoyed, and if you did please reblog!! happy sailing friends ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) -bray

[butterflydm]

Rewatching 3x01 & 3x08 together (for fic purposes)

Spoilers for the whole season and some general spoilers for the books through, idk, I'll say Winter's Heart.

It really does feel like 3x01 set up some strong conflicts that were resolved in 3x08 -- Egwene's misgivings about Rand being about the madness as opposed to only about ~cheating~ comes across much more successfully if you only watch the first and last episodes of the season, lol.

I do personally feel like dragging Randgwene out for so long muddled the narrative that they were going for with them (from my own feelings and a sampling of what other people said -- some people picked up on them being mis-aligned but a lot of people basically attributed it all to Rand being A Bad Cheater Boyfriend, with Egwene essentially only being a passive victim instead of an active part of the relationship), because the themes that I've seen Rafe, Josha, and Maddy talk about in interviews (about Randgwene being about nostalgia and trying to keep in place a relationship that really doesn't exist anymore) feels like it comes across a lot more strongly without any of the intervening episodes between 3x01 and 3x08.

imo, 3x01 is also really the only episode where we get to see that Egwene is still ambitious, I think, and even then, it's only during her 3x01 Arches viewing (where mad!Rand tells her that she got 'what she always wanted' by becoming the Amyrlin, and so was potentially dismissed by viewers simply because it came out of Rand's mouth). And she never talks about it to anyone! It's all couched in her protecting Rand or being devoted to the Light (or protecting herself, once she realizes that there's an actual living person messing with her dreams). She never admits to any ambition in herself in s3, and she's never called out on it by anyone that the narrative tells us should be trusted on the matter (aka someone other than Rand).

What we needed was something like the scene with Elayne in early s2, where Elayne calls Egwene out on her jealousy of Nynaeve and it's obvious in Egwene's reaction that she hit on a sore spot and that Elayne is reading her accurately. Though, minor sidebar, now I kinda want to go back and see if Egwene ever admits to any faults, because it could be that that is supposed to be one of Egwene's flaws in the show -- we know from what was said in 1x07 that the pattern of the Randgwene pre-canon relationship was that if they had a fight, Rand (and only Rand) would apologize and that would 'fix' the fight, so Egwene never admitting to any faults or mistakes seems true for pre-canon Egwene; and when Randgwene 'resolve' their 1x07 fight, iirc Egwene never admits to there being any reason that Rand might doubt her devotion to Mat, a character who she has NEVER had a one-on-one conversation with on-screen and who she, in fact, did openly doubt when it came to his moral character. But it could be that I'm forgetting some lines that show!Egwene has had that would contradict this theory?

(I just went back and watched that Egwene & Elayne scene and Egwene never actually admits that Elayne was right and that she was feeling jealous; she straight-up denies it, in fact, just like she constantly denies in s3 that she's worried Rand might go mad -- it's just obvious in her reactions that what Elayne is saying is the truth. Plus it being about a friendship and not about a romance also helps un-cloud the issue, imo. As we also see in how Nynaeve gets more sympathy for wanting to 'save' Liandrin from the Shadow than Rand gets for wanting to 'save' Lanfear. So, yeah, that makes me lean towards 'this is an intentional flaw in Egwene's character' but I do feel like we needed something more in s3 to make that clear to viewers)

That is actually something that Mat could have potentially done if he'd gone into the Waste storyline the way that he does in the books -- been a contrast against/sounding board for Egwene. There's a bit of distance there, because he's one of Rand's best friends, but also a level of trust, because he's from the Two Rivers. I really do feel like we needed more of Egwene actually expressing her own feelings over the course of s3, because after 3x01, basically everything is other people telling Egwene how she feels while she either loudly denies it or looks off into the distance and says nothing. But according to the interviews, everyone else was right about Egwene's feelings and she was just in denial the whole time, but we never get anything validating that on-screen, imo. She just stays silent. So I really hope that we do get some conversations in s4 where Egwene expresses her own feelings instead of other people doing it for her.

Rewatching these two episodes so closely together also (as @markantonys recently talked about) really shows the contrast between the mad!Rand or the euphoric!Rand that we see in 3x01 vs the determined Rand that we see in 3x08, but we can also see that Egwene seems to feel like these are the same Rand, which means that she's not seeing him clearly. All that intervening space and the way that the Randfear relationship intersects with the relationship throughline makes it easier to go along with Egwene's viewpoint in 3x08, imo, and it's not as clear as it could be that she's not seeing the actual Rand who is standing in front of her but is instead seeing him through the lens of Arches!Rand who is screaming at her to bow to him. Everyone else is witnessing a prophecy coming to life, while Egwene is re-living one of her worst fears that she was forced to confront.

I feel like a conversation, or maybe more just showing us that Egwene is being affected by her visions, would have been good. Because it feels like Nynaeve's conversation about how deeply the Arches visions affects a person could be used to show that it's supposed to affecting Egwene too, even if she never talks about it but a) Elayne's visions aren't even shown on-screen and don't appear to have affected her at all and b) Nynaeve's talk sets up how her final vision in the Arches powers her own arc this season, so it's easy to mentally go "well, that's true for Nynaeve but it doesn't appear to be true for Elayne or Egwene".

So yeah, my general feeling is still that we either should have had Randgwene have their final relationship talk in 3x01 and had the rest of the season them resolving into a complex exes situation, or cut out some of the Liandrin backstory from 3x03 in order to put in some kind of Egwene scene where we can see how clearly she's seeing mad!Rand in the not-mad!Rand who is standing in front of her. Because it really feels like the way the narrative was played out disguises any issues that Egwene was bringing to the table in s3, and makes it look like the dissolution of their relationship was entirely Rand's fault. Especially since when Egwene talks about their 'relationship' to Elayne & Nynaeve, she says, "it's just as it was back home, like nothing's changed" while Rand says to Mat & Perrin, "we haven't really talked about [whether or not we're back in a relationship]" and we never get any kind of open and honest read from Egwene's perspective the entire season.

But, again, just watching 3x01 vs 3x08 does make the change in the relationship clear (even if Egwene still won't admit to Aviendha in 3x08 that they are no longer in a relationship! which is so wild to me!), and shows that Rand and Egwene have strongly conflicting points of view on how Rand needs to approach being the Dragon (especially now that Rand has fully embraced Moiraine's perspective, which contrasts sharply against Egwene's) and that this is, at this point in time, an irreconcilable difference in them that means that their relationship will never again be what it once was.

Egwene: "We could have kept you (Nynaeve) safe." vs Rand: "Safe's not possible anymore."

Egwene is trying to keep Rand 'safe' (from others? from himself?) all season but safety is not possible. But that might be what lies inside Egwene's refusal to commit to a break-up, even in 3x08? Because she believes that Rand 'needs' her in order to have the strength to pull himself back from the madness? idk she never talks about it! if that's the case, then maybe Rand not listening to her at the end of 3x08 means that she'll finally admit that they're not in a relationship anymore. We can only hope!

I do think that in the context of Egwene believing that she might need to 'stop' Rand, then her reaction to Aviendha asking if Rand ~deserves~ her strength is more interesting, because Rand's 'worthiness' is beside the point, if it's not about romance but instead potentially needing her strength to stop a 'mad!Rand' situation.

Rand absolutely is trying for a soft break-up in 3x01, though, with his assumption that Egwene is going to stay at the White Tower with Nynaeve and Mat, and she is not having any of it. And they're kinda stuck there until 3x06 though, again, it's wild that even in 3x08, Egwene will not verbally commit to no longer being in a relationship with Rand! (but Rand does, and it feels like the scene in 3x06 was clear enough to make the viewers feels that they're 'broken up enough' too, even if Egwene still won't say the words).

But by those same standards (was the 3x01 conflict resolved in 3x08?) -- it feels like Mat didn't go much of anywhere this season. He had some fan favorite scenes but the conflict that appears to be set up in his opening scenes -- not being able to help his friends because he's caught up in his own struggles -- remains the situation that he's in at the end of the season. Instead of being able to help Elayne or Nynaeve against the Black Ajah, he's caught up in his own struggles and taken out of the picture. He's struggling with memories in 3x01 and is now struggling with memories in the opposite direction in 3x08 (lost memories instead of new memories). He moved laterally but didn't actually resolve anything.

...that does line up with how Nynaeve's struggle with her block was essentially 'on hold' during s2 and then tee'd up to get knocked out in s3, so it could be that Mat was put on hold so that he can get the resolution to his current character struggle in s4 (fingers crossed for renewal, as always).

Taking Mat out of the Waste kinda feels like being put 'on hold' for Mat's own storyline but it has a MASSIVE impact on Rand's storyline.

Because everyone else who was already inclined to treat Rand like a person and also not be personally hurt by his relationship with Lanfear were already naturally leaving his plotline (Perrin, Elayne, and Nynaeve) so deliberately removing Mat -- who is the person who has been set up by the show to be the MOST sympathetic to Rand's concerns, as someone who a) has committed a similar 'crime' of abandonment that Rand did (1x06 Waygate abandonment vs 1x08 pretending to be dead), b) worried for weeks in s1 that he himself was the Dragon and was going mad, c) has already shown himself willing to support and uplift Rand (amateur therapy session in s2), d) has no reason to feel personally betrayed by Rand having feelings for Lanfear -- feeds into them wanting to play into Rand being more vulnerable to Lanfear when he's isolated.

And then that implies that bringing (some of) those people back into Rand's storyline in s4 would naturally/narratively give us a chance to get the other side of the story. Lanfear, the person who was trying to convince Rand that no one (but her) could genuinely care about him if they knew who he truly was, is now out of his life in a romantic way, and we are now free to bring back in the people who prove that she's wrong, because part of the point of s3 was to show us a Rand that would make the audience genuinely worry that he might pick Lanfear over the Light (but ultimately, I feel like the show would want to make it clear that Lanfear isn't actually correct and people are capable of loving and caring for all of who Rand is).

So it might have all been intentionally done to put us into Egwene's perspective to worry over Rand's mental state only to then bring in some characters in s4 who will be able to show us that part of that reaction was Egwene writing her own fears and worries onto Rand even though those fears aren't actually present (yet) in Rand's behavior.

It felt so significant to me that there was no Rand & Lanfear scene in the premiere and that really did play out throughout the season - Lanfear's primary dynamic this season, the one that mattered the most, was the one with Moiraine. Rand mentions Selene to Perrin and Mat -- that's the woman that he misses, the woman that he wanted. A woman who never existed. Moiraine is the one dealing with the woman who actually exists -- Lanfear. Just as it's Moiraine and Lan who deal with Lanfear in the season premiere, they are the ones who deal with her in the finale, while Rand has moved on from his ex and is dealing with things that matter more to him than holding on to a dead relationship with a cruel and manipulative woman.

The Randfear relationship is really well done on its own, but yeah I do feel like pulling the Randgwene relationship out so long kinda dilutes the power of what we see with Randfear, where Lanfear spends so long manipulating Rand and trying to convince him that no one but her can truly love him, only for Rand to go through the same realization that Lews Therin went through with her -- where she did something that accidentally revealed her cruelty and malice to him, and it make him realize the truth about her as a person. Because Egwene is mixed up in it, it gets dismissed as ~cheating~ instead of the abuse and manipulation of Rand that it is (otoh, it's entirely possible that even if Egwene weren't mixed up in it, it would still get dismissed the same way that the Mat-Tylin abusive dynamic is dismissed by some book!fans -- because some people genuinely believe that it's impossible for women to abuse men).

Randfear only have four (and a half, if you count Charn and Mierin) scenes together this season but each scene moves the story of their relationship's downfall forward in a powerful way -- we have the baseline of 3x02, which establishes that Lanfear is trying to tempt Rand and telling him that no one but her is capable of loving him because he's secretly just as awful as she is (peak abusive manipulation); we have 3x03, where Lanfear does her best to play on Rand's heartstrings and make him want to save her; we have 3x04, where Rand is given his hope that maybe Lanfear CAN be saved (and it's key that his hope comes from something that Lanfear herself had no way to manipulate); we have 3x05, where he momentarily gives in to temptation because he thinks there's a chance that 'Selene' really was a real version of Lanfear; and then we have 3x08, where Rand has learned who Lanfear really is and takes control of their relationship in order to finally end it. That is very economical and efficient storytelling! And the body language is all the Randfear scenes is just... excellently done. You can see the whole story just in the way they react to each other, without needing the words.

I will say, it feels very much like a warning sign that Moiraine and Lanfear agree that Rand's friends are 'holding him back' from 'the man that he must become' and then Rand comes around to agreeing with Moiraine (and, by extension, Lanfear) in the finale, and no longer objects to their methods (of hurting his friends to try to drive them away). Lanfear is maybe not the person that we should be agreeing with when it comes to how Rand's mental state should be handled.

That being said, the two parallel scenes of Rand and Moiraine's conversations in 3x01 vs 3x08 are very good -- we get them completely unable to connect and agree in 3x01, and when Moiraine crouches down to Rand's level, it feels like she's treating him like a child. While the 3x08 scene is both of them being willing to meet in the middle -- Moiraine admits she was wrong to try to force Rand to go to Tear, while otoh Rand has come fully to terms with the idea of embracing Moiraine's (unhealthy) policy of cutting himself off from his loved ones in order to embrace being the Dragon. And when Rand gets on her level in that second scene, it marks them seeing each other with vulnerability and mutual honesty, and they stand up together to fight their separate (yet linked) battles.

It cracks me up that Elayne gets kicked out of the ~serious conversation~ about the danger that Rand poses to the people he loves that Siuan wants to have with Egwene and Nynaeve... only to go talk to Rand and actually be the one person who has the greatest impact on him this entire season, by setting in motion his choice to go to the Aiel Waste and becoming the Car'a'carn to earn the Aiel as an army. Her advice here saves Rand's life (per what the Wise Ones told Moiraine in 3x03) and is key to him fulfilling the prophecies and the only people who know about it are her and Rand.

But that really does point out that Elayne gets left out of all of the "oh no, Rand is super-dangerous and is going to go mad" conversations that Egwene gets hammered with this season, so she's not bringing that with her everywhere she goes the way that Egwene is. But, yeah, this is another scene where Egwene has this instant denial and push-back against the idea that she might need to 'stop' Rand but apparently (from what was said in interviews and actually also the synopsis for the season that was put out) -- worrying about needing to 'stop' Rand was part of Egwene's struggle this season! I know I've mentioned it before but I really really feel like it needed some more attention and I feel like we could have sacrificed some of Liandrin's backstory in order to put a spotlight on this struggle of Egwene's.

Again, if you only watch 3x01 and 3x08 back to back, then I think that theme does come through successfully, but when you have all those intervening episodes, I feel like it gets kinda lost, especially since it's something that Egwene is never willing to admit out loud.

"Rand isn't used to having power. Command doesn't sit easily on his shoulders. But he will learn his duties and responsibilities to your people." Much like Elayne sets Rand's journey into motion, we see here that she has faith in his ability to become the Aiel's Car'a'carn. When Egwene is with Rand, she is always trying to see the boy that she once knew (the way that Lanfear is always trying to see Lews Therin? the way that Rand is trying to see Selene?), but Elayne sees the person that Rand actually is -- his challenges and his struggles included.

So I'm really hoping that we're going to see that when Elayne comes back into s4 and hopefully gets back into Rand's storyline relatively quickly -- Egwene will now be looking at Rand through the lens of mad!Rand from the Arches since she's decided he's not the boy that she used to know, while Elayne looks at him and sees the person that's really there.

Plus we see that Elayne is fully willing to wield dangerous power for the sake of the Light when she grabs the balefire rod from Jeaine and murders her with it without even the slightest bit of hesitation. So that's another place where it seems like she can understand the position that Rand is in.

There is also a very subtle and in-the-background Randlayne hug in the 3x01 goodbye scene. They definitely kept the Randlayne vibes low-key but present -- she's incredibly important to his story this season but not in a way that trips 'cheating' bells the way that his interactions with Lanfear did. The subtitles also say that Rand is telling Elayne "Thank you" here! It is VERY quiet though, because that's right when the music is kicking up. But I can hear it when I turn the sound up. So yeah, Elayne goes from saying goodbye to Aviendha right to saying goodbye to Rand.

(and the ta'veren boys goodbye hug is also very nice, even if I remain sad that pretty much all Cauthor got stripped out of one of the biggest Cauthor books in the series)

Aviendha's "My duty is to you, as yours is to your people." really does reinforce the point that Elayne made to Rand about how even if Aviendha is grumpy over Rand being the Car'a'carn, she does still stick by him. And that plays out in 3x08 as well, even though I do wish they'd actually gotten their own scene together, instead of Aviendha's single one-on-one conversation being with Egwene.

The White Tower scenes in 3x01 vs 3x08 go full-circle so hard and so painfully. That what Siuan tries to do to Liandrin here -- denounce her as a Darkfriend -- comes around on her in the end. Tried, stilled, interrogated, and executed. That was the plan for Liandrin, before her Black Ajah allies in the Hall came to rescue her. And, of course, Elaida made sure to send away Siuan's allies before moving forward with her coup.

So out of the Black Ajah that are revealed here, Liandrin is the only survivor that we see on-screen at the end of the season. We also get a foretaste of vengeful Leane here, who will see likely see in full force in s4, with that need for revenge turned against Elaida. Leane doesn't interact with Egwene in this episode, but she is there to witness Egwene repudiating Siuan's authority and leaving immediately after her Accepted Test (and so is Alviarin, who becomes Leane's counterpart at the end of the season).

We have the contrast of helpless!Nynaeve in 3x01 (because she's blocked) and then she gets unblocked in 3x08... but too late to do anything except save her own life. That's something that I've been turning over in my head. Nynaeve doesn't get to 'protect the kids'. She doesn't make it in time when Egwene needs to be saved in s2 and Egwene has to rescue herself; she isn't the one to heal Rand when he gets his dagger injury; she's not the one to save Mat's life in 3x08 even though she promises to help him in 3x01.

Maybe something about Nynaeve learning how to put on her own life vest before helping with anyone else's? I really am curious if Nynaeve is going to be able to help any of the kids in s4, now that her block is broken and she's no longer afraid of/hating her own power anymore.

[breakdownsbuttlights]

Hello hello!! I hope everything is going well 💜 how about a fun humanformers thing? What do you headcanon their eating habits are like? Dratchet? Prowl/meso? OP? Roddy? Megs?? Etc? Like is Drift a vegetarian bc of his religion? Does Ratchet survive on caffeine and pancakes? (The pic you drew of Ratchet flipping pancakes is one I hold very dear, very peepaw I love it)

Oooooh I don't have eating headcanons for everyone, but here are a few:

Mesothulas. It's been documented elsewhere how Mesothulas has such disdain for the necessity of eating that he subsists on a soylent-like smoothie of his own invention that gives him all his nutrients without requiring a pause in his work. I've also discussed his fondness for salty treats. What I haven't mentioned is that he will, on occasion, eat actual real food, which he consumes like a snake: in vast quantities at irregular intervals. And, like a snake, he is so thin that he will actually bulge a little in the middle. Sorry for this image.

You'd think Prowl would have a similar disdain for eating, what with all his important work and the weight of the world on his shoulders, but in fact his unique and powerful brain simply cannot function without a steady infusion of calories. He eats frequently and opportunistically, has a predilection for sweet things, and falls into despondency when forced to go without. The only meal he is known to skip is breakfast, preferring to nurse a black coffee along with his latest black eye.

Chromedome, by contrast, often skips meals due to lack of appetite and, even when hungry, imposes punishing restrictions on his diet, as though he believes he doesn't deserve nourishment. This worked fine for Prowl when they were together; Prowl got to eat his fries.

Drift's prohibition against eating animals isn't necessarily religious; he just really doesn't like the idea of doing any more killing, however indirectly. And don't even try to debate the morality of veganism with him; he won't have your sophistry and might actually not quite be as done with killing as he claims to be. Of course, being an athlete as well as a vegan, Drift has a titanic appetite for carbs and requires about a kilogram of granola in order to begin his day. The pancakes Ratchet is making? Those are for Drift. (They contain raisins.)

Ratchet is actually irritatingly well-adjusted when it comes to food. He cleans his plate with gusto but can just as easily go without. He doesn't overdo it with the coffee (anymore). And thanks to Drift, he consumes vegetables out of enjoyment as well as duty. He’s a good, spontaneous, instinctive cook who loves challenges in the kitchen. His only quirk, if you can call it that, is that he can’t throw anything away. Everything must be used and he will find a way to use it. Mostly this works, but Drift will never let him forget the corn and… corn… lasagna. (Drift devoured it. It was good!!!!)

[nerdygaymormon]

I tried to bring this up in my seminary class and didn't get a great answer, but I feel like there's a weird relationship between missionaries and colonialism that's never been adequately addressed for me. I understand that people just want to bring the knowledge of the church to people but it usually feels really dismissive of the cultures already there.

Colonialism is about exerting control for the benefit of the colonizers. This can be in the form of settlers moving in and pushing out the existing population. Colonialism could be extracting resources and labor for the benefit & enrichment of the colonizing power.

That doesn't sound like what LDS missionaries do, so why would people think there's a relationship between missionaries and colonialism?

The "Three C's" of colonialism refers to Christianization, Commerce, and Civilization, which were justifications and strategies used by European countries to legitimize their colonial expansion and domination. Because religion was used as a way to justify colonization and to integrate the existing population into the colonizer's cultural control, there remains a link between the missionary work and colonization. Sending missionaries from wealthy, advanced nations, like the United States, to places which are less developed, like the Philippines, looks like colonialism where we are trying to save people of color from their ignorance and get them to adopt our religion and culture.

And let's not forget that the LDS Church has its own history of colonialism. Mormon pioneers settled in Utah where native tribes had been living for thousands of years. We took their land for our benefit. Brigham Young tried to replace the native people's understanding of themselves and their culture by preaching that the Book of Mormon contained their history and if they would convert they would become "white and delightsome," (in other words, white people were the norm and native people had to be changed to be like the whites). Even in recent history, the LDS Church operated the Indian Placement Program from 1954-1996, which had native people send their children to live in the homes of LDS members during the school year so the children could attend the nearby public schools. The program's goal was to "introduce Native Americans to mainstream values and social roles without demanding the abandonment of the old for the new" (Encyclopedia of Mormonism), in other words, to have the children adopt LDS & American values.

Is what LDS missionaries do today colonialism? There are some aspects which could be seen that way as we introduce people into an organization with a power structure which is flawed (see the restrictions placed on women & queer people or how English proficiency helps men advance in leadership) and is based on the American model of corporate governance. The LDS Church carries Western culture with it, such as in the hymns we have people sing all around the world and the instruments we allow to be played in our worship services. American missionaries often carry their culture into other parts of the world, like teaching members in other places about Halloween. We also ask converts to send 10% of their income to the Church, and that could be seen as extracting wealth from them.

While there are echoes of colonialism in our missionary efforts, it's hard to say that simply sharing our belief system with others in the hopes they'll join our faith qualifies as colonialism. The exchange of ideas is a normal part of modern life. Foreign media is translated for local viewing & reading, karate & yoga classes are offered around the world and we don't view that as colonialism since people are freely choosing these options. But given the history of using religion as part of colonizing others, we should be careful and sensitive to how we proceed. And more effort should be put into letting the LDS church adapt to local cultures.

[moonlilymusings]

warnings: !MDNI! fem!reader, sub!anaxa, dom!reader, pegg!ng, cro$$dres!ng, ooc anaxa? possibly. this was funny to me so i wrote it down and now i share it with my lovely munchkins, idk what words tumblr has blocked so im just gonna censor every word that makes me raise an eyebrow. uhhhhhhhhhhh idk what else to tag. not proofread lmao.

“I don’t think you fully understand my creative vision,” you say, trying to keep your face convincingly serious. Anaxagoras wasn’t buying it.

You two stand in silence once more before you continue your argument for the idea.

“Aglaea will never recognize you if you’re wearing a dress- because *you* would never do that!”

Again, Anaxa stands there, arms crossed, one hip timed to the side as he stares at you in utter bafflement. Beside you, Hyacine can’t contain her laughter.

“Please, master?” She asks with her best puppy eyes. “I think her plan will work, we just have to trust each other!”

Anaxa’s steely mask cracks at the words of the girl in front of him and he turn his gaze to you, who is attempting to look innocent, but are making a fool of yourself.

“If you truly think it only takes a dress to fool the *dressmaker*, you are surely besotten,” he says sharply. You hand him a wig and a pair of heels. He snatches them from you and stomps away.

As much as he’d like to defend himself in this situation, he has no other reason to be angry doing this than out of sheer petty. Sneaking into a feast just to steal a plate of food… he’s sure if the two of you asked, Agalaea would have accommodated you, but you were slower sometimes, especially when it comes to social cues and Hyacine is one of your few validators. And then there was that damn dress… to say he was entirely repulsed by it would be a lie. He knows he looks good, he knows he has a lithe build, a *frail* one at that. And he knows how much you eyeball his waist when he’s doing menial tasks. It makes him feel warm, despite all reason. Despite the two of you already being some sort of relationship already. Anaxa knows what makes your cogs turn and you know his. He knows you love arguing with him, so the encounter before was simply foreplay. And here he is, wearing a dress and sneaking into the back of Aglaea’s party. The dress is almost the same color as his hair and it’s silky and breathable. One side is hitched up to reveal his leg, his knee leading down to his decorated ankle. His heels are one of the popular shoes in style at the moment and the hairpiece is a snowy white color that reminds him of one of his students and covers his hidden eye. He makes a bee-line for the food table. As pretty as he felt, his stomach couldn’t stop doing flips. “A dromas dressed in finery,” he hears someone chuckle among the crowd. It makes him stop in his tracks before he continues onward, never forgetting his mission. As he’s loading the plate, he begins to question where it went wrong.

Why am I here?

Why am I doing this for them?

Do they really think they can tell me what to do?

I wonder if anyone recognizes me…

Why did I allow this?

Maybe she’ll let me keep the shoes…

He sighs, finishing the masterpiece of an artfully stacked food plate and he places another atop it to keep it from flying away. He smirks to himself.

“Too easy,” he chuckles, turning on his heel to leave.

Aglaea.

She’s staring at him with cold eyes, her fingers tapping against her cheek. Usually he would glare, but he’s not supposed to be him right now, is he? Anaxa diverts his eye contact and takes a different exit before breaking out in a run. The two girls behind the stupid idea peak up from their hiding place, a grin on each face. Anaxa falls behind the bush between the two and he shoves the plate of food in your hands. “There. Now get me home.”

You lay on his bed as he dries himself from the small bath he had just finished bathing in. He didn’t seem to hold the same affinity for baths as the other Crysos Heirs, but perhaps he did without expressing much about it.

“You looked really pretty today,” you say with a suppressed grin. He really did stun you. Every day he does, something new and beautiful every day. He grumbles something under his breath as he turns his back on you, standing in front of a full length mirror to dry his hair.

“You should put it on again,” you say, watching his reflected expression. He’s blushing madly and his eyes are squeezed shut.

“And why would I do that?” He asks through grit teeth.

“I want to show you just how pretty you are. Is that so bad?”

Anaxagoras is on his back, fingers clutching the sheets as you suck him off, your hands squeezing his thighs apart to keep him from accidentally knocking you in the head. His eyes are screwed shut but every twist and flick of your tongue has them rolling back. Your other hand is occupied alternating between stretching him open and massaging his balls, fingers reaching for his prostate, rubbing at it before pulling away just a little too soon. He curses your name and then blesses it, opening his legs and then squeezing them around your head. You commanded him to touch his chest during this but that was easily forgotten as soon as you started fingering him.

The dress is bunched up around his hips and pulled down from his collar bone to expose his fished chest. He insisted on the heels if he was to wear the dress and what started as soft praises and kisses turned into.. this. His hand reached for your hair but you catch it, pushing his lithe wrist to rub his palm against his abdomen, further teasing himself.

Anaxa hates sex. He can’t be composed, nor can he overpower without begging before the act, nor can he use this for his research, nor does it aid in clearing his mind of you at all. And to be brought to his knees by mere pleasure stimuli and not someone he has determined the on the same level as himself is truly humbling. You have complete power over him and the fact he could best you in every academic endeavor could not matter less in this environment. The smartest thing to do would be to submit.

He places his heeled foot against your shoulder and pushes with all his might and it works. You complain mildly but then you hook his legs over your shoulder, mindlessly kissing his ankles as he feels the strap that you had put in earlier catch on his hole. He bites his lip as it pushes against him, his eyelashes fluttering. This is humiliating, he thinks, as he always does.

Anaxa angles his hips to take the strap a little deeper before you still him and push his legs up further, his knees on each side of his head. You kiss him deeply and that brings the first vocal moan from him, his eyes rolling back as you penetrate his soft hole. He can’t move, he can’t think, he is rendered completely at the mercy of this person who just fell into his life. Brilliant.

You thrust into him softly at first, but you’re quickly emcouraged to go faster by him tugging on your hair and biting at your lips. You whisper to him to calm down but that only makes him more insistent.

You often get distracted during sex, especially when he’s bottoming. His eyes are so pretty you just fall right in. When you nuzzle into his neck and inhale the scent of his hair, you loose yourself. When you kiss and he draws his tongue against your teeth and lips, you find yourself pressing closer and closer, stilling your hips but lapping at his tongue as though his mouth were ambrosia and you, a dying man. He knew you got distracted but he just chalked that up to you being careless. He’d pinch your cheek or arm and pull you back into reality. You feel him pinch your cheek as you reminisce on this.

Anaxa’s body, lithe and curved with little muscle.. you reel back and hold his legs as you begin a steady pace, eager to pleasure him, make him have positive memories to associate with today and this dress. Perhaps if you do a good enough job, he’ll wear it for you again…

[karaaaak]

More specter infodumping‼️🔥

Firstt, I wanna talk about my favorite specter design, Ada’s

(Random but I love the added detail that the border information thingy is different for each character)

I don’t have to much to say about it so I’m just gonna go ahead and list some things, some of speculation, some are just things I noticed

CW for some of these

Due to the fact that her limps are separated in her specter (along with a couple other things I won’t go into) I pretty highly believe that Ada was dismembers after her murder. Mostly liking leaving her body unfound (either because it was unrecognizable or simply because nobody came looking for her

The fact that one of her abilities is her scream also ties in with the way she was murdered. It was planned. She was taken out to the woods/forest specifically, so it highly unlikely that anybody would or could hear her if she did or tried to yell/scream for help

Her specters body seems to be growing moss which relates to the place she died, the forest. Same thing goes for the animal bones.

She seems to be able to summon her specter quickly when ordered too. I’m not to sure why this is. It could just be because without her specter she is “useless”, her specter makes her powerful, makes her wanted, something she isn’t used to being.

Going along with the previous one she quickly untransforms when asks to be someone she wants to appear as neat/good infront of, first Annabel, and later Morella. (It should be noted that she detansforms quicker when asked to my Morella.) this is most likely because of her fear of being seen as unladylike, unattractive, and/or disorganized.

Im not to sure what to add to that, I feel like Im forgetting some things but idk.

Next, I wanted to originally talk about Morella after Ada (totally not because I ship them and wanted to put them in the same post..) but I can’t find much on her specter, so unfortunately I’m doing Monty

Monty, is a Dybbuk, more specifically, a Son of Belial. Which is “a term occurring in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament which later became personified as the devil”

The Name itself comes from Hebrew and means multiple things depending of how it is translated. Some include “worthless, yokeless, may be have no rising, or never to rise”

In the Bible, Proverbs 16:27-29 (I think) to be more specific, read as follows:

“A man of Belial plots evil, and on their lips it is like a scorching fire. A perverse person stirs up conflict, and a gossip separates close friends. A violent person entices their neighbor and leads them down a path that is not good”.

According to google “In the context of the Bible, "Belial" refers to wickedness, worthlessness, or something that is of no value. A "man of Belial" is someone who is evil and morally corrupt.”

Uhm, I’m not to sure what else to add, since I don’t pay too much attention to Monty’s specter in particular. I would encourage you to do some more on you own, since I can’t provide to much on him :P

If you have any feedback, tips, yada yada, pleaseee comment then, reblog, idc. 😭

[strawberri-rants-and-writings]

Easy Access

You had been dating Billy for a while now, getting to know the local “bad boy” for yourself. He definitely knew how to keep things exciting in the quiet town of Hawkins, so when you receive a call one hot summer day, you knew it was trouble (in the best way).

Billy x Fem!Reader

Minors DNI

Word count: 4,837

TW: porn with plot, established relationship, oral (fem receiving), exhibitionism if you squint, nipple play, breast play, posessive Billy, not proofread

Let me know if there's anything I missed! Sorry this took so long, I had massive writer's block!!!

It was the summer of 1985: The hot sun blared through your windows and you lay in bed trying to fan yourself from the heat. A thin layer of sweat coated your body, each bud glistening in the harsh light of your room. Your fan just wasn’t enough to beat the heat, but the trip to the local pool was just too arduous to consider. You knew your boyfriend would be working there, the thought of him in is swim trunks…glistening in the sun…hair wet from the pool…the scene hotter than the weather itself. You would be seeing him later tonight, though, if you survived the heat that is. As you lay there, slowly melting in your oven of a room, your phone rings. You unstick yourself from your mattress and waddle over, your legs feeling as if lead weighed them down. You pick up the receiver and give your best greeting, despite the fatigue in your voice,

“Hello?” You groan slightly.

“Hey sweetheart, bad time?” A familiar voice purred in the other end. Your spine shivers at the flirty cadence of your boyfriend’s voice.

“Hardly, aren’t you on the clock right now?” You chuckle, plopping back on your bed and twirling the phone cord.

“I was ending my shift actually” Billy purrs again, you can feel his smirk through the phone, “I called because I have a surprise for you, but I doubt you would appreciate it.” He teases lightly, a chuckle grumbling in his chest.

“What do you mean?” You ask curiously, a smirk creeping across your face as you hear his promise of a surprise.

“Well,” he begins, “How do you feel about a trip to the pool after hours huh? It’s been a hot day, you need to cool off, and I know a damn good lifeguard that will be there to keep a pretty thing like you safe.” He proposes, his tone flirty and confident.

You scoff, flustered by his words. You bite your cheek before answering “Is that so? This couldn’t, you know, put your job at risk will it?” You tease back.

He hums on the other side, looking out past the office to the pool before focusing his attention back to his phone call. “Why not live a little babe? No harm done.” He goads cockily “Are you coming out or what?”

You sigh and laugh, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s antics. You plant your feet on the floor and head to your closet, carrying the phone with you. “Fine, fine.” you giggle “Is there anything you need me to wear?” You ask curiously, your smile beaming as you speak.

Billy smiles at your question, letting his imagination run wild for a bit before answering, “Shorts and a crop top” he says simply. He pauses, thinking of just how good you’ll look when he sees you before adding “make sure it’s cropped high with a tight pair of shorts…and my letterman jacket.” He finalizes.

You cock your brow at his final request, his letterman? On this hot ass day? You sigh and shake your head “What makes you think I even have your letterman with me huh?” You sass, looking for his requested items.

He scoffs at your response and rolls his eyes, amused by your sass "Because I keep it in your closet sweetheart, you forget how often I stay at your house…now hurry up, I want to see you." He pushes, a sly smirk planted on his handsome face.

You look in your closet and there it is, Billy's letterman jacket from basketball. It hung neatly between the rest of your jackets, the green and white fabric sticking out like a sore thumb. You're not sure if you should be surprised or exasperated a the fact he really planted his letterman in your closet without you noticing. You shake your head and grab the jacket from the closet, draping it over your arm as you continue to dig for the required outfit.

"Okay mister pushy, let me get changed." You tease as you pick the perfect outfit. “How am I getting there?”

He leans his muscular frame against the wall of the pool office, listening to you getting changed. He groans slightly at the thought of what you’re wearing, his cock aching at the thought. He pauses before he responds “With that attitude, I’ll make you walk.”

You stop what you’re doing when you hear he wants you to walk. “You got me fucked up if you think I’m walking all that way” you bark a retort to his little comment, “I’ll just stay home if that’s the case.” You threaten, knowing it’s an empty one.

You can hear him click his tongue at your threat, letting out a breathy chuckle. He always loved that sass of yours. “Fine…fine, I’ll come get you then.” He scoffs before pausing again, his voice lowering to a husky whisper, “Oh, and sweetheart?”

You take a breath, rolling your eyes before you decide to answer his question. “What is it love?”

Billy can feel his swim trunks grow tighter as he gives you one last request, “Wear no underwear.” He demands in a low tone, his voice a mere grumble in his throat.

You pause what you’re doing, baffled at the request. Did you hear him right? Your brain short circuits as a smirk creeps on your face. You let out a breathy chuckle, the room suddenly feeling hotter than before. “And why should I do that?” You ask cheekily, slowly changing out of your clothes.

He hears the shift in your tone and chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be opposed by his words. “Well I want to give you your present…and I want easy access.” He breathes out his last statement, the sound making shivers run up your spine.

An intense heat rushes your face, and you begin to chew your cheek. You swear he could hear your heart pounding on the other line, and you quickly move to change the subject. “I’ll see you soon then.” You finally choke out, trying hard not to sound flustered.

He hums, knowing he’s got you hooked. His smirk never leaves his face as he answers, “Yeah, I’ll see you soon…and remember what I said.” He adds, his tone cocky.

You let out a shaky breath as the heat travels to your core. You nod before you hum an agreement and hang up, the silence in your room deafening. Your mind races at the thought of what he has planned for you, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t excite you.

You take your time to change into some booty shorts and put on a Metallica shirt you had cropped short, making sure to follow his request for no underwear. Your core aches as your mind wonders to Billy’s “surprise” later this evening. You grab some tennis shoes and wrap his letterman jacket from basketball around your shoulders, putting on some perfume before heading out the door, waving your mom goodbye. Down the street, you could hear his Camaro purring as he speeds to your house. He honks a few times before you step out, and rolls down the passenger window to greet you.

Billy’s cock throbs at the sight of you, his mind already going crazy at the thought of you in his letterman jacket. There you are, wearing exactly what he asked of you…and damn are you a fucking sight. The way your thighs squeezed in your shorts, the Metallica tee cropped just short enough for your perfect tits to peak through the bottom, his letterman draped on your figure. He growls before greeting you,

“Get in pretty girl” he gruffly states, his smile making you melt at the knees.

You feel his hungry gaze lap you up, a flustered smile graces your features as you approach the car. You lean into the open window, “Someone is impatient” you tease, trying to hide the fact that he has you wrapped around his finger.

Billy reaches across the dash and grabs your chin, making you to look at him, “Stop teasing, I haven’t seen you all day… and you look damn good” he pauses, his eyes darting down and noticing what he requested you to wear. “Now get your cute ass in the car babe.”

You look at him a bit longer, biting your lip before you relent and open the car door. You slip into the passenger seat, feeling his thick hand snake its way onto your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze before speeding off.

The ride felt as if it was taking forever…between him squeezing and rubbing your inner thigh and the hem of your shorts rubbing your clit just right made time go insanely slow. You could lose your mind at this rate. You can feel Billy glancing over at you occasionally, his hand riding higher and higher at each red light. You swear you could feel his pinky teasing your clothed pussy before the pool rolled into sight. A sigh leaves your chest, somewhat relieved the tension from the ride is dissipating, only to be replaced with excitement and anticipation. Your chest swells as he parks the car, watching as he shuts off the engine and gets out of the car. He circles around and opens the door for you, his hand wrapping around your hip as he guides you to the pool office.

“Now, we gotta sneak in here so no one finds out, got it” he speaks lowly, pulling the keys from his pocket and opening the office door, holding it open for you. You shoot him a worried look,

“It’s just us right? No one else is here? You said it would just be us-” You look around, suddenly feeling apprehensive about your situation.

“I may have lied a little” he interrupts casually before he shuts the door behind him and locks it. He walks towards you, pulling you in by your waist and caging you against the nearest wall. His face was inches away from yours, close enough that he can smell that perfume you sprayed on.

“Billy!” You stare at him wide eyed but he only laughs, his lips connecting with your neck. “Kidding… wouldn’t be too mad if there was an audience though.” he whispers against your neck, his hot tongue slides on your skin to your earlobe.

Your body shivers as you feel the warmth of his mouth in your skin, but your body stays tense. His hands begin to wander, tracing every curve as he hungrily nips and bites at your neck.

“Relax a little babe, it’s just us, I promise” he huskily whispers, his breath against your ear giving you chills.

He chuckles as he presses his muscular body closer to yours, and his knee slips in between your legs, placing sweet pressure against your aching pussy. His hands roam from your waist to your ass, placing a quick smack before gripping your ass cheek in his hand. You can’t help but moan, his sudden passion making you weak in the knees. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy his spontaneity, and it only made you crave him more. He grinds his thick thigh between your legs harder, pushing your legs apart with ease while his hands grip tightly onto your hips.

“God you sound so perfect…” he growls against your skin, his body pressing you firmly against the wall.

You feel his thick cock against your thigh as he grinds against it, and he bites down on the flesh of your neck making you shudder and let out a mewl of pleasure. His hands keep their grip on your hips, guiding them as you desperately grind his thigh, trying to control your pace. You feel his thigh press even tighter on your sweet spot and you let out another small whimper. You're suddenly lifted, your back slammed against the wall as Billy's lips connect with yours, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His tongue invades your mouth, swallowing any moan that escaped your lips. As your tongues dance together in a heated kiss, you grip onto his shirt for dear life. To ground yourself? To keep yourself sane? Before you could completely melt into his touch, Billy breaks the kiss with only a thread of spit to connect the two of you.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispers to you, his piercing gaze sending a wave of need to your already wet pussy. You only smile, somewhat breathless from the kiss. "Was that not the plan the whole time?" you tease, keeping eye contact as you nip his bottom lip.

Billy grunts, he’s starting to lose his patience. He tightens his grip on your ass and thighs as he lifts you up, making you squeak in surprise. He clears the desk behind the two of you with a swoop of his hand before plopping you on its surface. He stands in between your legs and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him,

"I’m not the one who started all this teasing, doll." he says, heat radiating from his body. You giggle, giving him a cheeky smile before responding, "Then what was that whole bit about 'wearing no underwear for easy access' hm?" you purr, "By definition that means you started the teasing."

"You little minx." he growls before crashing his lips to yours once again, his hands sliding their way to the hem of your shorts…so achingly close to your needing pussy. His thumbs slide gently past where you needed him the most and back again, and he smiles against your lips when you whine in protest.

"So needy already? I've barely touched you…" He purrs as his lips trace your jawline and find your collarbone, gently kissing and sucking the sensitive skin.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands grabbing the beltloops of his pants and yanking him closer. His chest was now flush to yours, the grip on your thighs tighter and tighter while his thumbs trace soft circles on your inner thigh. With each nip and suck in your neck, waves of need and pleasure hit your core like a bus, sending a slick wetness to the barely clothed area. He lets go of your neck with a slick POP before admiring the work he's done on you; your neck and shoulder littered with the love bites he's left. Just a reminder for you and anyone else who you belong to. Against your protests, his hands move from your thighs to under your shirt, lifting it above your boobs before pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. He pulls away from your neck to look at your needy face, his blue eyes keeping your gaze as your eyes are half lidded. He loves this look, makes his cock throb at how you react to his touch. He's close, his minty breath making your mind spiral as he ghosts his lips over yours. You can't help but stare, your breath hitching as he flicks and plays with your nipple, the pleasure making your mind mush.

Billy groans at the sight, pushing you lower and lower before your back lays on the desk. His lips now ghost your skin, his gaze never wavering from yours as he traces the contours of your body. He moves to the center of your chest, licking at the space between your boobs, his hands going to your waist, pushing you further down on the desk.

"God princess, you look so damn good like this. I mean, you look good, but you look even better underneath me." He grumbles before peppering kisses on and around your boobs, nipping and sucking each nipple as he passes them.

You gasp slightly, mouth agape as you watch him unravel you with ease. You can feel his cock grind against you, it growing harder by the second against your aching core. Blush riddles your face as you melt under him, and he gives you a sly smile.

“Look at you, all blushing because of me. So adorable. I can’t wait to see what other pretty sounds I can get out of you." he says as he pinches your nipple and pulls it slightly, forcing a loud moan to leave your pouted lips. He chuckles darkly at the sound as it goes straight to his throbbing dick. Your hands find his torso and you yank at his shirt as your back arches in pleasure. He looks down at you, your shirt hiked over your chest and his letterman jacket pooled behind you…needy and desperate for him… he smiles before sliding his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor.

"Better babydoll?" He whispers, leaning close enough to feel his hot breath against your ear. You nod, cupping his face and bringing it close to yours

"How bad do you want me?" You whisper against his lips, caressing them with your own as you look deep into his eyes, gaze lustful and hazed.

He moans and grips your thighs, pushing you up a bit so your chest is level with his face. He leans in and nips at your neck, his voice is deep and raspy when he speaks, "I want you so bad it hurts. I want to hear you scream my name, feel your nails scratching down my back. I want you under me as I make you cum over and over again." He purrs, grinding deep into your needy core.

Your body shivers at his words and you let out a sweet hum, caressing his face as he peppers kisses against your skin. Your hands find his soft blond curls and you run your fingers through them, gripping it at the base of his neck and making him look at you as you speak, "Then make me sing your name like a hymn to a forbidden god." You coo, giving him a smirk.

His eyes darken at your words, and something in him snaps. He grumbles something incoherent before you are yanked towards his hips, your ass dangling off the edge of the desk. Before you could grasp what was happening, Billy unbuttons your shorts and rips them off your hips, tossing them to the side like a used rag. He growls at the sight, your perfect pussy on display in front of him. He grips beneath your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest for a better view, practically drooling. He wanted a taste, to lap you up like a life force. His face hovers your needing cunt, his hot breath hitting your clit. He looks up at you one more time before speaking in a husky whisper.

"So wet for me baby, s'fucking delicious." He grumbles, rubbing his thumb over your slit teasingly. "Be a good girl and cum on my tongue."

He plunges his face into your pussy, finally getting a taste of you after a long day. Your back arches at the sudden sensation, a moan leaving your lips as his tongue licks a long stripe up your core. He impatiently gets to work, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking on the sensitive nub. The sounds he makes are lewd and obscene, sucking and slurping at your pussy as he takes what's his. It drives him insane, your taste, your sounds…he wants more. All the while, your body twitches and bucks towards his face, needing to feel every inch of his thick tongue. He nips your clit, making your thighs instinctively close around his face as you whimper at the sharp sensation. He growls, the feeling rumbling deep in your core before he takes your legs and yanks them more open than before. He places pressure on your hips now, lifting his face to speak to you.

"Don't. Move." He orders his tone final, leaving no room for negotiation before he lowers his face and shoves his tongue deep into your needing hole, tongue fucking you.

The sudden filling sensation sends your mind reeling, your hand moving to his hair as you try to push him away "Baby…wait!" you cry out in vein. Billy does not listen, pushing his tongue deeper and deeper as he swirls his tongue around your pulsing walls.

Your breathing gets heavy, your chest rising and falling as your release comes quick. His tongue feels so good, and you could never get enough. You'd only hoped to last a little longer, but you knew better. You were weak for him, every touch, every groan… it was heaven. You grasp his curls and pull his face closer, your hips now bucking into the sensation as he laps at your wet pussy. He groans as you pull his hair, his licking getting more frantic as he feels you getting closer.

"That's right baby, cum f'me" he muffles into your core, his tongue swirling your clit once more. With one final flick of his tongue, you come undone. Your whole body shivers as you cum on his face, and you let our a screaming moan, "Billy!~". He doesn't stop until you ride out your high, drinking up every last bit of you until your body collapses back onto the desk.

Your breathing evens out after a few minutes, a thin coat of sweat lines your brow as you finally come down from your high. You bite your lip, slowly sitting up to look at your boyfriend, his letterman jacket draping off your shoulders. He looks up to you and flashes you his signature smile.

"Fuck baby." Billy chuckles, his face dripping with you as he peels his head back to look at your fucked out face. The sight alone made his cock jump. Blush littered your face, your chest bobbed up and down as you breathed, your hair stuck to your forehead… such a perfect sight. You are gorgeous to him, but he wasn't done with you yet.

He pulls from you, his hands quickly finding the hem of his shorts as he pulls them past his thick thighs. His cock springs from the fabric, the thick shaft already leaking with precum. Your eyes fall on the delicious sight, your mouth agape. His begins to pump his hand over his cock, making long strokes as he steps closer to you.

"Like what you see princess?" He asks, his cocky smirk never leaving his pink lips as he pumps the thick shaft more. You can feel his breath on your eyelashes as his lips ghost over yours.

You look on hungrily, your eyes never leaving his as you reach out and grasp his cock, your hand barely able to wrap around him. "I always have." You whisper back to him seductively as you stroke him slowly.

He groans at the feeling, gently bucking his hips into your hand as his hands land on either side of your hips. His lips find the skin of your neck once again as he attacks it with more love bites and trails of saliva. He moans against your skin as your pace quickens, and your feel him bite down on your collarbone. "S'right baby, just like that." He moans in your ear. Your touch is driving him to the brink of insanity, and he needed you right now.

His hand trails up your body and he pushes down slightly before pulling you back towards the edge of the desk. He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours. The air was thick, the office humid from the body heat and the smell of sex filled the air. There was a tense silence between the two of you, both bodies charged and wanting. His lips trail your features as his cock slowly enters you, stretching you as your walls wrap perfectly around him. You instinctively wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, needing something to hold on to as he pushes in deeper.

Billy bottoms out with a grunt, his forehead pressing against yours as his grip on your hips tightens. You felt so good…so unbelievably good. You let out a mewl, feeling his cock twitch inside you as he slowly begins to rut his hips into yours. His lips captures yours in a passionate kiss, much slower and more intimate than the last. He drinks up every whimper and moan as he thrust his hips into you, loving every sound you make. He hooks your leg around his arm, lifting it just slightly as his pace quickens. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, each thrust hitting your sweet spot in perfect rhythm and your head flies back. He watches as you unravel for him, and he revels in the sight. Your moans like a song encouraging him to keep going.

"You like that baby?" He husks to you between grunts, pulling you even closer so your bodies could be flushed together.

"Fuck…Yes baby~" You respond in a moan, feeling waves of pleasure crash through your body. It felt electric, every movement felt like a rush and it never got old. It didn't help that he looked gorgeous like this; his eyes blown out from pleasure, his face flushed, his curls sticking to his face…you craved this.

His thrusts get faster, jolting your body forward and making your boobs bounce. Lewd noises fill the pool office: Grunts, moans, the wet clap of skin thrusting into skin… it was like a scene straight from a porno. Billy's face falls into your neck as he ravages the skin, you only hang on for dear life as he uses you like a personal fuck toy. Your walls close around him and spasm, indicating your release coming soon once again as his name dances on your lips over and over again.

"Billy…So…close." You whimper into his ear and he growls against your skin. He was close to, and he wanted you to cum together. His pace gets sloppy, frantic, needing to get to both of your releases.

"That's right baby, cum for me…scream my fucking name." He growls between grit teeth, thrusting harder into you and making you squeak. Your tongue dances at the roof of your mouth, feeling the overwhelming sensation build in your core before you finally let go.

"Fuck…Fuck…Billy!" A string of curses leaves your lips as you cum once again, your back arching into him as your eyes roll back. He pulls from your neck and watches as you unravel beneath him, driving him to his own orgasm. With a loud grunt, he thrust deep, hot strings of cum spilling into you as he rides out his own high. He ruts his hips a few more times before resting his weight onto you, his breaths labored as sweat drips down his brow. You huff, your chest bobbing as you try to catch your breath.

Billy peppers kisses on your shoulder, trailing up to your face before capturing you in a kiss. "We should do that more often." He chuckles, making you giggle as well.

"Maybe we should…I think the jacket really did it for you." You giggle again, gesturing to the now soaked letterman jacket laying at your hips. He scoffs at that, but doesn't disagree in the slightest.

With one swift motion, Billy picks you up and sets you back on the ground. He finds your shorts and hands them to you, pulling up his own to your disappointment. You two begin to get dresses, cleaning up any mess left behind by your escapades. His hands trail your body once you are done, his lips finding your neck again before speaking, "Ready to go?"

You nod and smile. pecking his lips before stepping out into the cool summer night. The sun had set, and the sky was dark and littered with stars. Billy locks up behind you two and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. You walk to the Camaro together before realizing… "You know, we never went swimming." You comment, looking up at him.

He nods his head slightly and smiles, "But you did get wet…" he retorts and your jaw drops. "Are you serious right now?!" You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of laughing, but you couldn't help it.

Billy only shrugs, barking a laugh at your reaction before squeezing your hip, "C'mon babe, have a sense of humor, you know I had to." He flashes you a cheesy grin and you roll your eyes.

When you reach the Camaro, Billy opens the door for you and waits for you to get in, closing the door and circling the car and plopping into the driver's seat. The car turns on with a roar, and his hand finds its way to your thigh once again before speeding off into the night. You never knew what you were going to get with Billy Hargrove, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy every minute.

Tag List:

@shes-an-odd-bird @bear-ann @bugs-n-roses @black-wolf066 @cherryssodapop

[maagicmushies]

"The more dangerous a curse is, the more human-like it will be."

One little subtextual thing about JJK that I’m obsessed with is that the reverse is also true. The more dangerous a sorcerer is, the more curse like they become. I just want to rattle through some examples.

Domain Expansion

This is a more general thing, but very early on we learn that strong curses lure people into domains where the dimensions are twisted and illogical. The top level of sorcerer combat also revolves around this with Domain Expansions. Sukuna and Kenjaku even take it further than curses because they don’t drag people into a dimensions, but instead impose change on the actual physical world. Takaba, who is kinda just the strongest character in the series, takes this one step further by passively emitting a domain, like a curse, but having his technique carried within it like, like a sorcerer.

Sukuna

Obviously the most important person to discuss for something like this because both characters in the story and viewers of the anime are kind of confused on if he even is a sorcerer or a curse. He’s a sorcerer, but the distinction doesn’t matter to Sukuna, he just is. This giant man with four arms, two mouths and two eyes who is like the world’s deadliest Kamaitachi. He shows up and things just begin to get sliced with 0 indication of how he’s doing it. He even takes part in consuming humans like many curses in the series. Regardless of if he was born as a human or not, the man we see in the story is just more of a curse.

Kashimo

From the Smallpox Deity and Ganesha Curse, we know that deities do manifest as curses in JJK, so of course the god of lightning fits in here. But the real reason to mention Kashimo is Mythical Beast Amber. He converts his entire body into his electrified cursed energy upon activation, which would literally make him a curse, a being with a body composed solely of cursed energy.

Big Three Techniques

The big 3 family’s techniques are all very strange in how they are typically more villainous powers, befitting a curse or demon. Ten Shadows users are doppelgängers, hiding in shadows and using them as portals to summon even more curses or even drowning people in them. Blood Manipulation is well… Blood Manipulation, it fucking sounds evil and the main strength is that it poisons people. Masters of it are also given unnatural control over their own bodies. Limitless is a complete defiance of the laws of physics and reality, which is somehow the least curse-like thing here, but that stops being a thing when we look at the main user of this technique.

Gojo

The Limitless itself isn’t very curse-like, but Gojo’s unlimited void is. The constant stream of knowledge into your mind mentally breaking you is just straight up a lovecraftian trope. Simply being around Gojo can kill you with exposure to forbidden knowledge. Additionally, like Kashimo, he is treated more as a God than a human.

Yorozu

Yorozu is similarly physics defying like Gojo and worshiped as a goddess, but additionally fights using armor that giver her the appearance of the many bug-like curses in the series. Her domain expansion referencing sickness also connects her to the trope of powerful spirits bringing plague along with them. Sukuna is annoyed by her, but I don't think anyone else really replicated his worldview of living like an untameable curse like she did

Yuta

It’s easy to forget that Rika is not an independent existence of Yuta and more or less, a being who always would have had to come into existence in order to host Yuta’s overwhelming cursed energy. He’s such a kind looking boy, but Rika is representative of who and what he actually is, just as monstrous as anyone else this strong. Additionally, his technique requires human consumption. It’s what Sukuna’s technique was theorized to be for years, but it actually belongs to one of our sweet good guys because power is ugly.

Naoya and Choso

These two are counterparts as Choso is born a curse and is inhabiting the body of a human while Naoya is a sorcerer so nasty that there was no way out besides becoming a curse. They're both really uncanny and use their double lives to get some horrifying uses out of their techniques. Naoya as a curse begins leaning into the idea of breaking physics/the rules of the world like Sukuna, Gojo and Yorozu. Projection sorcery is basically bringing the rules of anime into manga and while Naoya and Naobito can only do this to people in life, as a curse he can do it to literally anything.

Anyways, I could go on and on with some of the other strong characters in the series, but I think the point is clear. As a little final thing I want to put forth a headcanon/theory. Perhaps innate techniques are not just a mixture of luck and genetics? I think it is entirely possible that they take root within children the same way that curses form, evolving from fear and negative emotion around their potentials and the evils of their family or the world that they inhabit.

[rawmeknockout]

💋Yo! Earthspark is out and I NEED nsfw head cannons of megatron. Please tell me what he likes to do to his bot partner.

01 + He's only a few years out of his old tyrant ways, and it shows in the most intimate moments. He's rough and domineering, but no longer in the way he used to be. It doesn't change the fact that roughing you up or being roughed up gets his spike hard. Megatron is quick to grab your wrist joints to manhandle you when he wants something.

02 + Loves a good fuck after battle. He's older but that doesn't mean the thrill of victory doesn't still get him going. Especially now that he's actually winning battles. 😭 Of course, he can hold off until the paperwork is done, but don't think he'll forget. He's tapping that even if he has to go through five hours of bureaucracy first.

03 + Will slip back into 'Warlord' mode, as a treat, and dirty talk about sharing you among his troops. How he wants you to be tossed at them, used by them, until you're covered in their transfluid and completely unable to escape. Of course, this is only part of roleplay. Megatron is much too possessive, and much too happy with his domestic life, to share you.

04 + His favorite way to wake from recharge is to you riding him. It sends a wonderful thrill straight to his array for you to use his spike like a toy first thing in the morning. He's not going to lay passively, though, because as soon as he's awake he's using your valve like a spikesleeve, fucking up into you.

05 + Megatron wasn't really into quickies before, but he's gotten used to them. The two of you don't really get a whole lot of romantic time alone, so he's learned to take where he can get it. If he has to fuck you against a wall, only a few feet from your allies, then that's what he's going to do.

06 + He doesn't have as much stamina or sex drive as he used to, but at the best of times you two can still fuck everyday. That's not the norm for him, though. Usually he still has to get all up in your guts at least once a week. Megatron just accumulates too much stress and frustration when he can't use your valve to frag away all his concerns.

07 + On the topic of your array, Megatron probably loves some good chastity play. Especially in regards to putting your spike in a cage. A lasting remnant of his time as a warlord. He likes to treat you as a receptacle for his transfluid and stress, just as foreplay. Some habits are hard to break and he uses it as an outlet for his more violent/controlling urges and tendencies. He likes controlling when and how you get off, sometimes treating you as a concubine or prisoner of war. Don't worry, he always provides exceptional aftercare for his toys.

08 + However, there are times he loves to treat you. Okay, more like he actually has time to treat you. Megatron always wants to treat you well. He would spend much more time being gentle and romantic and actually showing you how deep interfacing can be if he wasn't so busy. When he gets the chance, he likes to spend your time together with his face buried in your array, alternating between sucking your spike and eating your valve. The ache in his jaw, although not great for talking the next day, is what he considers a fine reward.

09 + He's much too old for having sparklings now, but he's tossed around the idea of getting you sparked up. There's too many parts at play: he's too old, you're both working on Earth for the foreseeable future, there's too many mechs who want him dead, he simply wouldn't have time. But seeing the Terrans, how much hope there is for the future of Cybertron, it makes him want to contribute more to the revitalization of your planet. To do everything he can for a more peaceful, bright future. Definitely uses it for dirty talk. A little roleplaying that, during one of your quick frags, he's giving you a much needed load of transfluid.

10 + When he's upset with Optimus and/or G.H.O.S.T., he turns off his comms and pulls you into the woods for a quick fuck. Megatron knows he shouldn't, that many people he works with are still suspicious whether he's changed and watch him heavily, but it's his little way of rebelling within reason. If Optimus gets one or two pictures of you mid-frag, don't be mad at Megatron 🥺. It's his coping mechanism 🥺🥺🥺.

[yourbuerokrat2]

@thymelessink

First picture: I love Qs expression and gesture here because to me it clearly looks like he let himself fall back and with the way his one leg is a bit up it is clearly elobarete that he is doing this for the sole purpose of getting close to Picard. But he still has that smile on and the way he has his one hand raised makes it clear that Q is in the middle of something and so maybe he can always pretend that this fall back is simply part of the show Q is putting on or part of what he is trying to illustrate to Picard. Like in a 'haha I am definitly not falling back solely to get in your arms and to get close to you and hopefully get you to fall in love with me it's just part of whatever else I am doing, unless...'

Second Picture: You just know that if cameras were more normal in Star Trek that Riker would definitly get one and make a picture out of this. Although I do hc that Q has a whole bunch of pictures, posters and videos of himself and Picard and this image is definetely going to become part of the collection. Maybe another Q or someone else made a comment about Picard and Q always arguing and so Q decided that the two of them getting along better is a great idea, snapped his fingers et voila. Now this shirt stays on until Picard likes him better.

Third picture: I cannot help but picture Picards expression if this was the third Trial. At this point the Continuum has long since given up on Qs impartiality as a Judge and so Q gets to do whatever he wants during these Trials. Can see PIcard just staring in Qs eyes, refusing, absolutely refusing to look lower even as Q grins. Maybe even making a suggestive comment about what the two of them could do in the Courtroom after the Trial is over.

Fourth Picture: Famous last words before getting turned into a worm be a sad Q. I mean, Picard is brutally honest with Q so much so that I sometiems think he is just forgetting that Q is not just some funny and annoying guy. But no, PIcard is likely completely aware of just what Q is all the time and still decides to look him in the eye and say that. On the other hand considering Q complained to Sisko about Sisko not playing along with Qs insults and words like Picard does I think a part of Q likes it. Still, poor Q.

More silly sketches...

The Get Along Shirt idea was @predawnite and I ran with it.

And JdL has to be blamed for the high heels idea.

[bloodchapell]

abyss — senku i. 1

brief summary: senku in poetry class??? why

what to expect: idek this was random

your sword's note: been feeling out of sorts and listening to a lot of pastel ghost. since it rained today and will rain all week in my city its like meh, idek what i wanted to do with this but welp, its just a thought i've been having myself of leaving class and climbing a tree or something, all parts of this series available on my mistresslist

The weather was horribly rainy, not humid rainy but more like movie rainy. 

“Inconsistent, like it’s attacking you in the face.”

“Like a layer of cold shimmer.”

The course name was so long that you actually just summarized it as the “oral poetry” class. That was mostly it, you would show up and make words up. Occasionally you would have to write as an assignment. It was an easy class, and a requirement for your major. 

“Stop listing facts, be more poetic.” The professor whispered to him.

It was a mystery as to why someone like Senku Ishigami, who belonged in the opposite building across campus, would be taking a poetry class; but there he was, every Monday and Wednesday for two hours, making up fancy words that were not poetic but pure science worded strategically.

“Rain, like a reminder of the heavens about our lack of control, a force so common, overlooked.” You continued, noting down swirls in your notebook with a mossy green ballpoint pen, 0.38. Luck, or the devil perhaps, had made you be his partner during class, so for half of the class you would talk back and forth about whatever topic the professor would write up in the chalk board. That day, the weather.

“I hate this stupid class.” He muttered, with his own notebook in his lap, writing whatever was more important.

“So drop it.” The same back and forth. It was automatic, maybe because the professor had conditioned everyone in the class to forget about the principle: “think before you speak” and simply let the mouth take control of the mind.

“It’s too late.” He sighed. You giggled. 

“STEM majors.” You rolled your eyes. “On my castle, the English department building nonetheless.”

Senku laughed too. After spending four hours a week talking back and forth, it had been inevitable that you became friends. He would talk about science and you would talk about literature. 

“The rain is just part of the cycle of water, a process that is usually explained in like third grade.” Senku continued, 

It remained a mystery as to why he was there, for some reason you didn’t ask. The rain kept pouring, and the day was somber, and since he was particularly fussy and kept accentuating how rain was simply water dripping from the troposphere, you took it upon yourself to make metaphors and allegories for the rain. 

“What a romantic realization.” You sighed looking at the window. 

“What is so romantic about this?” Senku lifted his gaze from the notebook. 

“Not romantic like that, you inept.”

“Ah, romantic like the movement.” He nodded completely uninterested. “Let me guess, you look —longingly because you damn poets can’t simply look at stuff without it becoming a deep unraveling— at the trees, and something tells you that you should be out there instead of being here stuck in a block of cement paying attention to what this old fart professor is saying. Well let me illustrate you with the following concept: evolution, and from it, let’s dive into evolutionary instincts lost in time. As primates, humans would climb trees long ago, before becoming terrestrial.” 

“Oh shut up Senku.” You shushed him away. The professor started approaching so you made something up. "Nature is a crying woman, she weeps for that is her nature; there is so much pain in the world, and it melts into the ground, the earth trembles. The suffering spreads through the... ehm..."

"Mycelium, like a plague that infects the species, and makes her cry."

"Brilliant!" The professor cheered.

You both shook your heads. 

"So you wish to escape to the trees like a primitive monkey." Senku returned to the topic. 

"Kinda." You nodded. "Damned Darwin, taking our tails away. And before you start, I know Darwin cared about birds, and was not the one to come up with the theory of evolution like that —I took Human Origins—, but let's have him as a placeholder."

"Delightful." 

"In global romanticism, we talk and talk all class about the romantic desire to escape to nature, all while sitting in a vertical extending block of cement, looking longingly." 

"So escape." 

"It is not that easy." At his remark, witty as them all, you denied. 

"Oh it is." Senku assured. "You are taking philosophy, you even showed me your test earlier, A/A- grade, what the fuck does that mean but sure let's go from there, fatalism, determinism, compatibilism, what is your take?"

"Compatibilism? We all enjoy a degree of control so for the sake of sanity. Determinism which is factual, scientific almost if I was to appease you... there are these conditions from which I cannot stride away from, like my background, family, all that predetermined stuff, I cannot really buy a yacht right now even if I wanted because I am broke, but to some degree free will is added to this messed up equation." You said quoting your test of ambiguous grading.

"So what stops you from leaving the classroom right now and getting lost in the small woods by the back of campus?" Senku kept poking at the question, like inciting you to rebel and jump out of the window to prove that free will is real. 

"What stops you?"

"The question lies in the start, not the middle point which would be the stop. I have no reason to go outside right now, no traces of my genetic past as a monkey, no romantic ideals. But, I will propose this, as a thought experiment, leave and I will reveal one secret of the cosmos to you." Senku smiled like he was a genie. 

"Why do you want me to leave?"

"I don't think you are capable of leaving."

"I'll do it if you come with me." You punctuated. 

"Fuck, it's another one of the principles being used wrong here." As if he was genuinely tormented, he complained. "Let's do this, for my personal entertainment. Leave and wait at the staircase for ten minutes, there is a 50/50 chance of me leaving but you won't know it." 

"Senku what the hell." 

"I'll get you lunch after, whether I do leave or whether I have to find you after class." 

"Free lunch... hungry and broke student..." You sighed at the dreamy vision, stood up with your backpack without even agreeing, apologized to the professor for having to leave early and walked out. He was genuinely surprised that you left, and after two minutes of pretending to write something from the empty board, he stood up, told the professor that something had come up and walked out. 

Either free will was at its peak, or the predetermined fate was a joke. 

You were sitting in the staircase, surprisingly no phone in hand, simply listening to the drumming of the raindrops on the ceiling. 

"Get up." 

"My free lunch!" 

After the few steps that were left on the staircase, you opened the heavy door, and lo and behold, the rain was there. Senku walked outside, with his umbrella ready, and you walked behind him, empty handed. He knew you hated umbrellas, you knew he was not sharing his, so you walked side by side with no precise destination. 

"So where are we eating?" Senku asked eventually.

"Well I don't know... you choose." With complete honesty you shrugged, and he was bothered. "I thought we were exploring the woods first."

"We are not exploring the woods."

"Come on, where is your free will, you puppet?" 

That made it for him. 

You walked together to his dorm, where he dropped off his bag with his very expensive laptop that he didn't want to ruin in the rain and he changed his shoes for boots, getting an impermeable jacket. You left your backpack.

"I would never suggest you break out of the mori kei style for the day, but be careful, there might be insects that will ten billion percent try to get a snack out of your legs while passing along their diseases." Senku pointed out. 

"Thou shall not fret." You lifted the long skirt to reveal a pair of boots and wool socks that reached above your knees. 

"Looks like fate was preparing you for the little escapade."

"Shut up."

The back of the campus lead to a small area of trees and a creek. Despite complaining that the scenery was perfect for a horror movie, Senku followed you, dodging branches carefully. At that point, when the light rain attacked his face and his hair was starting to give up, he started wondering what lead to that moment, but he kept walking. There was nothing precisely interesting about the woods, and after a short walk the creek was visible.

"Should we get in the..." Before you could finish the sentence, he was already speaking. 

"I am not getting into an untested body of water." Senku refused immediately.

"Amazing, now if I do, I will look like a primitive idiot." 

"By all means do."

"Bastard." You pushed him softly. 

He laughed, after catching his balance of course. The noises of nature were a soft background, and the pouring of the rain did not stop. His red eyes followed you, something in his mind saw it logical that you belonged in a place like the creek, with your ridiculous outfit and your head full of ideas. Outside of class, you two didn't speak much, though he had your Instagram and would send you memes related to whatever latest occurrence you had come up together exclusively for the two of you, the conversations did not spark online, compared to the mindless rambles during class and after class when you would walk together for a while. 

"Diagnose me." Out of nowhere Senku asked. 

"Idiot who is actually genius. Take 0.5mg of vitamin D every day." You replied effortlessly. 

"I meant if I was a fine arts student like you." 

"Hmm, I cannot see that." You thought for a second. "You would be a classicist and rationalist, my antithesis as a romanticist. Now you diagnose me."

"Genius who is actually idiot. Easy, anthropology of some sorts? Or pure astronomy if you could pick out the math like kernels out of a salad." 

"So you picked up on my stars poetry from last week." 

"I normally don't hear people talking about the star sequence and strange matter in the 'hearts' of neutron stars outside of the science department building, let alone the English castle. It is only natural for a romanticist who is swayed away by the sight of the trees from the window enough to escape class and go explore the woods while it rains." Senku stated this as a fact. Amidst the boredom of the fuckass poetry class in his schedule, he enjoyed piecing your words together like a puzzle, forming a very accurate impression of you. 

"You say romanticist like it's a derogatory insult."

"I am not too fond of the social associations of the term." Senku shrugged. 

"Oh yes, your other disease called aversion to normal human interaction, you probably got it at the Jupiter institution where all boys go." 

"Oh yes, the stupider academy, I have lots of memories of my time at the gas giant."

There was no award laughter after, though both of you found it funny, it was probably part of the odd conditioning of the poetry class. 

You kept walking alongside the creek, looking around and occasionally taking some pictures. Slowly the rain started getting stronger, but you were too distracted thinking of more analogies for the rain and Senku was too distracted thinking of the mechanical properties of the mycelium of a random fungus he saw. 

"That flower... I must take a picture of it." You pointed across the creek. Senku shrugged, staying where he was, simply watching as you zoomed with your phone's camera. "No, it's not enough, I must risk it."

He didn't bother to stop you, and observed as you lifted your skirt to cross the creek. He calculated the depth of the water and it seemed safe taking into account your rather dexterous coordination, so he didn't care, that of course, until you slipped after stepping on a wet stone and fell. He was startled, but his concern evaporated when he heard you laughing. Methodically, he got in the creek, and he walked towards you, extending his hand. You grabbed it, but when he pulled to help you up, he slipped and fell back. 

Another stream of laughter, even when you fell to your knees in between his legs, as he sat defeated in the water. 

"I am never going anywhere with you again, ever." 

"Your hair is actually pretty long when down." You said. "I like it."

"Let's get out of here, before we get hypothermia 10 billion." Senku stood up on his own, and you did too, forgetting about the flower and walking back. He kept looking at you, oblivious and uncaring at being drenched from head to toe. 

The dirt from around stuck to your wet clothes, and whenever the spring breeze blew, your bones would shiver, but it was all part of the experience of running away to nature. 

"Sorry I dragged you to this stupidity." You smiled at Senku after seeing him with a well earned furrowed brow. 

"It's whatever, I don't mind as much, I am not made of paper." He sighed, oddly calm about the situation. "I had fun, even if we fell into the fucking creek."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You still owe me lunch?" 

"Seriously? After everything?" Senku asked, baffled. "Sure, whatever."

[friendlyrandomperson]

Letters.

*smack*

While spinning, Frank’s voice sounds like it is rapidly decreasing and increasing in volume.

“JuLiE jOyFuL i Do NoT uNdErStAnD yOuR fAsCiNaTiOn WiTh My HeAd SpInNiNg UnCoNtRoLlAbLy.”

Eddie walks up to Frank’s mailbox while on his route, only to see this fiasco. “Mail’s her- Oop! Now just what is going on here?”

Eddie walks up behind Frank, who is still spinning. Frank’s head appears to be a blur. “mR. dEaR, hOw ArE yOu ToDaY?”

“Well I’m doing peachy, Mr. Frankly, however, well- uh- frankly I’m concerned as to why your head is spinning ‘round like one o’ them… tops? Oh, forget it, where are my manners, would you like some help?” Eddie asked Frank politely, trying to be anything but a bother. Julie perks up, exclaiming, “His head spins like a die if you whack it hard enough!”

Eddie chuckles slightly, irritating Frank. “JuLiE, i SiMpLy Do NoT sEe ThE pOiNt In SpInNiNg Me ArOuNd!” “Hold up now, I’ve gotcha.” Eddie walks up behind Frank and takes Frank’s face in his hands.

“Oh! Sorry Mr. Frankly, lemme just-“

Eddie slowly rotates Frank’s head back to its normal position. “There! Now you’re back to normal.”

Eddie grins, hands Frank his mail, or rather, places it in Frank’s frozen hands, and walks away with a peppy “Goodbye Mr. Frankly; Goodbye Miss Julie!”

Frank, red faced from both anger at the whole fiasco and something else , stares at the letters in his hand.

“Ooooooo, whatcha got there Frankie?”

Julie takes the bunch of letters out of Frank’s hand. She reads the names aloud; “Wally Darling, Barnaby B, Sally S, pretty standard stu— oh? This one doesn’t have a name on it!”

Frank blinks, then shakes his head before looking at Julie with a quizzical expression.

“Huh? Julie, give me the letters please.”

Julie gives the envelopes back to Frank, who glances down batch to see just what he had been told; a nameless envelope, sealed with a small, yellow butterfly sticker.

Frank opens the letter hesitantly, Julie running behind him and peeking over his shoulder. “I wonder who it could be!!!” Julie squeals, swinging her arms in excitement. Frank takes the card out of the envelope and opens it slowly, to reveal a butterfly inside, which popped out like a pop-up book.

“You give me… butterflies?”

Frank holds the card in his hands, observing the detailed, large butterfly in the middle, surrounded by also very detailed, yet much smaller, other butterflies.

“Ooooooo, someone’s got a secret admirer!!!! I wonder who it is, Frank!”

Chapter 2: This will BEE fun.

It had been quite a while since that letter came in the mail; around 8 weeks, to be precise. Since then, it became a little routine between Frank and Julie to take a look at the cards together; after all, Julie just couldn’t wait and was a sucker for romance.

“Frank Frank Frank lemme see it!!!!!” Julie spins around Frank, jumping up and down as he chuckles. “I wonder what this one will say..”

Frank opens the envelope and opens the card, which has a pop up flower in the middle with miniature bees all around it, with the message being “You’re bee-utiful!”

Frank smiles wider, his already rosy cheeks turning a soft red, like a ladybug’s wings. He shakes his head, still grinning at the silly card.

“Heh, this one’s clever too. Whoever this is, they’re very good at puns. Perhaps I should ask Eddie who these are from!”

Julie puts her hands on her hips. “Are you sureeeee Frank? Are you sure you’re ready to know? What if it’s someone like BARNABY?!?!”

Frank shivered at that thought; the likelihood was slim, however one could never know. Barnaby was full of surprises. “Oh goodness Julie, you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t.”

Frank spent the rest of the day mentally going through each neighbor in the neighborhood, looking at potential matches, sifting through clues, attempting to find a solution and seeing none.

Except… he did not think about Eddie.

Frank calls Julie the next morning.

“Hello, hello, you’ve reached the Joyful residence!”

“Hello Julie, how are you doing?”

“Oh I’m doing swell, Frank! Are you excited about the next letter? I wonder what the pun will be today!”

Before Frank could respond, Julie’s voice perks up again.

“Unfortunately I have a LOT of stuff to do today so you’re gonna have to open this one on your own Frankie. Sorry!!! Gotta go! Buh-bye!!” Julie hangs up without even allowing Frank to say Goodbye.

The dial tone ringing in his ear, Frank takes a deep breath and predicts the worst.

He places the phone down, puts on his gardening gloves, and walks outside, crouching and working on his garden as the sun rises.

Chapter 3: Oh Dear.

Eddie arrives on time, his heart pounding in his chest, pounding in his ears. He takes a deep breath as he digs the letters out of his bag. “Mail’s here, Mr. Frankly!” Frank turns around and feels his cheeks warm up. Eddie smiles and hands him the letters, the one sealed with a heart on top. “Thank you Eddie. How has your morning been so far?”

“It’s been quite nice, Mr. Frankly. How has yours been?” Eddie, smiling, looks at Frank, his cheeks getting more and more warm as the time passes. Frank smiles, his cheeks burning, and says “I am doing just swell Eddie.” Eddie smiles, says goodbye, and walks away. Frank looks at the letter in his hand, his cheeks on fire. His heart pounding, he opens the envelope and nervously opens the card. A small, painted envelope pops up. The message reads, “I hope you’re aMAILable at 8 tomorrow night! -Eddie “Ed” Dear.” Frank’s heart skips a beat or two, reading the message. Reading the signature. Putting all of the little pieces together. Seeing every sign. Feeling his face burn, in the best way possible.

“Eddie… oh my goodness… it was Eddie this entire time…”

Frank’s face, normally bare and not in the slightest way positive, relaxes as his mouth slowly curves into a smile. He turns and spots a gorgeous orange flower blanketed in the sunlight, reminding Frank of Eddie. Frank smiles, feeling better than he ever has before. He walks inside, dialing Julie’s number. “Julie… Julie Joyful pick up your phone!” Barely one minute after Frank says this, Julie picks up. “Yello Frankie! Did ya find out who your little pen pal was????”

“Well Julie.. you’ll never guess.”

“Is it Eddie?”

Frank’s eyes widen. “How did you-“

“Guess who it was? Simple. He talks about you ALL OF THE TIME! Who do you think helped him make the cards?!”

“Wha— Wait just a darn minute Julie… you were helping him make those letters?!”

“Yup! He’s good with arts, crafts, and puns but he can’t use glitter glue for the life of him! So I had to help him sparkle it up a bit!”

Frank smirks. “Well, if you know so much about the cards, then what did this one say?”

“He wants to take you on a date tomorrow! Do you wanna go?”

Frank immediately hangs up the phone with a great amount of force, sending a loud crack sound through the room.

On the other end, the dial tone is loudly ringing in Julie’s ear. She looks over and shrugs at Eddie, who is standing over a messy desk and is covered in various colors, mainly pink, of glitter glue. “Uh, ma’am? Can I have a little help with these flowers?”

“I’m not sure they’re gonna be used, Eddie! He hung up on me!”

“Oh no! Jeez, do you think maybe I went too fast?”

“Eddie, you gave him a letter every day for WEEKS!” Julie looks at Eddie. Her facial expression was a mix of shock, empathy, and proudness.

She picks up a bottle of neon blue glitter glue. “At least talk to him one on one first! That way you’ll know for sure!”

Chapter 4: Rain.

The next morning arrives, a cloudy Saturday with flowers blooming everywhere in the neighborhood, colors of the rainbow shining like beacons in the soft yellow light of the sunrise. Eddie Dear had been up and about for about an hour, in day-to-day attire since he had the day off, at Poppy’s insistence. His outfit was loose navy blue pants and a nice white t-shirt, and of course, his hair was styled just the way he liked it.

He takes a look at his clock on the wall, softly ticking away. “6 in the mornin’ already? Goodness gracious I’m gonna be late for mah walk!” Eddie slides on his tennis shoes and heads out the door, and despite leaving his house later than usual, he walks calmly, taking his time to observe the flowers in yards, the trees in a vibrant shade of green, and the sun, a gorgeous yellow ball complimenting the gray sky, blue patches appearing throughout. Quite a while away, approximately 40 minutes, Frank, relaxed yet stressed simultaneously, is gardening, finding weeds and taking them out, placing them in a neat pile beside him. The pile is very large, as Frank wakes at 4 in the morning to garden. To walk around the neighborhood, it does take a good while, around an hour or so if you’re not in a hurry.

As the sky becomes darker, the clouds bundled together as if one, Eddie starts to worry about the possibility of rain. He shrugs this off, believing the worst it could be is a slight drizzle, nothing major. 20 minutes go by, and the sky has turned close to black. Frank notices this and calmly stands, collects his weeds, and tosses them out before going inside. Lightning strikes a small ways away, spooking Eddie slightly. A couple of second later, the sound of the strike catches up and booms through the neighborhood, rumbling and encasing Eddie in its roar.

The rain starts to pour, hard rainfall hitting the ground loudly with splashes. Eddie starts to run. The rain, pouring down ruthlessly, drenches Eddie’s clothes. As Eddie runs past Frank’s house, he hears a voice calling his name. “Eddie! Mr. Dear, come inside!!!” Eddie looks towards the voice to see the faint silhouette of Frank. Frank runs inside, grabs an umbrella, and sprints towards Eddie. He opens the umbrella above them both, breathing heavily. “What are you doing out here in this horrendous weather?!” Frank yells, attempting to be heard over the downpour. He was genuinely concerned and frightened for Eddie’s well being. Frank grabs Eddie’s hand and pulls him along towards the door slightly before closing the umbrella behind him. Eddie, confused, stands in front of Frank, who due to not opening the umbrella until he reached Eddie, is also drenched, his hair hanging loosely along his face, water streaming down his cheeks and forehead. “You are going to catch a cold! Come here, I’m bringing you a towel to dry yourself off with.”

“I- Mr. Frankly I’ll be fi-“ Eddie stutters, failing to get the words out before Frank gives him a towel. “Nonsense. Dry off and sit down, you can stay here until this storm passes.” Frank leaves, and comes back with a towel, drying his own hair and clothing off. Eddie dries himself, and awkwardly sits down, attempting to act casually. Frank looks at Eddie’s moist hair, then looks Eddie in his eyes. “Your hair appears stuck together, do you use hairspray by any chance?” Eddie looks upwards towards his hair and lifts his hand to run it through his locks.

Glue.

The glue he uses to style his hair EVERY MORNING got wet, then moved around when Eddie tried to dry his hair, and in turn messed his hair up. Eddie’s face starts to warm up with embarrassment. “Goodness, I am so sorry, it’s uhm- it’s glue-“ Eddie awkwardly chuckles in between his sentence, “I style my hair with glue in the mornin’s. Hairspray doesn’t have a particularly nice smell, and glue’s much easier to work with.” Frank smirks slightly, trying not to laugh. Frank, now snickering, looks at Eddie with an amused expression before raising one side of his brow. “Eddie, I mean- Mr. Dear- do you need to wash your hair?”

Eddie, furiously blushing, looks to the side to avoid eye contact.

Frank calmly smiles. “Mr. Dear use the bathroom and wash out your hair, it’s not good to leave product in it for a long amount of time, it could damage your hair you know!” Eddie looks at the floor, embarrassed. “I couldn’t possibly-“ Frank smirks, suddenly relaxing his face and looking towards the rain and catching Eddie off guard, making him go quiet. “You know what? Come with me.” Eddie raises an eyebrow. “I- uh- okie dokie then.” Eddie stands. Frank sets their towels on the table and walks towards the door. “Come on outside. The rain will probably get it out, and standing outside in the rain is actually quite nice if you’re being safe! Besides, we’re already quite… wet.”

Frank opens the door and puts out his hand towards Eddie, who hesitantly takes it. Frank holds Eddie’s hand as they both walk out into the pouring rain. Frank is the first to walk out, and he smiles at Eddie before taking Eddie’s hand and pulling him out into the raindrops, into the storm. Eddie looks up, holding his arm above his eyes so that he can see, but he is greeted with a threatening view, clouds darker than the midnight sky.

“Didn’t you say I’ll catch a cold, Mr-“ Eddie is cut off by Frank’s sudden snickering. Eddie’s face warms, listening to Frank’s laughter. “I did, didn’t I? But didn’t I also say to go wash your hair?” Eddie smirks. “You did, you did.” Frank’s snickering lit up the otherwise darkened environment. Eddie starts to laugh, which causes them both to burst into loud, pure laughter in the rain, drowned out only by the sound of the thunder, the wind, and the loud pattering of the rain hitting concrete. Eddie’s hair falls, as all of the glue falls out, landing on the ground below and into the sewer drain. Both stand in the rain, giggling like children as they stand there. Eddie runs his fingers through his hair, and he can tell everything is out. He looks at Frank, who is staring at the yard, water flooding everywhere. “Let’s head back inside, we don’t want to get sick, do we?” Frank laughs, and looks directly into Eddie’s eyes.

“Sure.”

That small word, clear against the noise, made Eddie smile as he took Frank’s hand in his, locking their fingers together. Eddie stands there for a moment, as if frozen, with fear and anticipation. Frank feels his face warming up as he looks at Eddie’s hand in his. This moment, as if everything froze, was something brand new for the both of them. Frank smiles, tightens his grip softly and walks towards the door into the house. The two walk inside, water dripping from their clothes and their hair. Eddie grabs his towel and attempts to dry it off. Frank just stares, surprised by how long he had been oblivious to Eddie’s feelings.

Realizing both of their clothes are now completely soaked, Frank quickly dries his hair, and walks off towards the attic door. “I should have SOMETHING for you to wear, you can’t have wet clothes on the ENTIRE day!” Eddie raises an eyebrow. Crashing, shuffling, and the sound of boxes moving arise from the attic. “I actually found something. It might be a tad loose but- it should work slightly until you are able to leave.” Frank emerges with a blue pair of pants, with polka dots, and a large red sweater. “Julie took Barnaby shopping a little while back and gave me what he did not want. I suppose it was useful.” Eddie smiles and thanks Frank for the clothing. He walks off and emerges dry and in the baggy clothing. “Turns out these pants are adjustable!”

Flustered, Frank gives him an awkward thumbs up. “You look… nice.”

Frank changes his clothing into something more.. well, casual. He emerges in a pair of loose black sweatpants, and a soft yellow t-shirt. He looks over and smiles at Eddie, who appears to be checking him out, his eyes going down, then up, then freezing at Frank’s face. Frank’s amused expression said everything; he got caught red-handed and red-faced, too.

Frank walks closer to Eddie, a light smile making his face home. “Are you okay Mr. Dear? You appear quite shook.”

Eddie nervously meets Frank’s eyes, which show kindness, empathy, but most of all, no matter how much Frank attempts to hide it, his eyes show pure amusement. Eddie smiles and says, “Yes Frank- I mean- Mr. Frankly, yes I am alright. Are you alright? Is it hot in here or is that just me?”

Frank chuckles, as it is a very common mishap between them to accidentally address each other as their first names, and Eddie’s rambling was quite cute.

“I am fine, but you should know something.” Frank smiles, and Eddie raises his eyebrow in curiosity. “You can address me as Frank, you know. I don’t mind it. I consider us close enough for that.”

Eddie blushes at this. Close enough? Did he mean as friends or as something more… serious? Eddie hesitates and repeatedly opens his mouth before shutting it, as he can’t figure out how to respond. Frank’s head starts to spin after around 2 minutes, which causes him to try and stop it, only to fail, which then causes his head to spin even faster. Eddie’s eyes widen. “Oh goodness, Mr- I mean- Frank- I- here let me..” Eddie moves closer and cups Frank’s head in his hands, then slowly rotates it so that his head is back in place, his cheeks in Eddie’s palms.

Eddie blushes and lets Frank’s head go, and turns to look at the floor. Frank pauses for a moment, processing the incident.

Frank takes a deep breath and sits down on the couch, patting the spot next to him, silently inviting Eddie to join him, and the mailman accepted the invitation.

Frank’s face falls slightly, his brow furrowing a tad as his mouth falls into a gentle line.

“Eddie… we need to discuss something.” Eddie’s heart drops. He freezes before breathing in and sitting up a tad straighter.

Frank stands up, walks into the kitchen, opens a drawer, grabs the “aMAILable” card from the drawer and walks back into the living room, where he sits next to Eddie. “This… did you mean it?” Eddie, confused, looks at the card, then back at Frank, then at the card. Eddie sighs in defeat, shame, and humiliation, believing he messed up. “Yes. I did.”

Frank blushes, his smile returning, but much softer, wider.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

Eddie looks at Frank in shock. Frank smiles. “Honestly… I feel the same way about you…. I simply had not realized it yet.” Eddie blushes, emotions coursing through his body. Surprise, joy, everything good and perfect. Yet his face remains… blank. A frozen mask, seeming like he’s stuck in confusion. Frank begins to get nervous. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Frank says. Frank’s expression is amusement… only a little bit of his anxiety shining through. Eddie shakes his head side to side, no. Frank takes a deep breath. “Here, close your eyes.” Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Just do it, trust me.” Eddie shrugs and closes his eyes. Frank stands, walks into his office, plants covering every surface inside, and a small snip can be heard. Footsteps grow closer and Frank emerges with a rose. Frank sits next to Eddie once again and holds out the rose.

“Open your eyes.”

Eddie opens his eyes, greeted by the vivid, blood red rose in one of Frank’s hands, its petals loosely lying in a group, sharp thorns along its sides, its leaves turned downwards at the edges.

Eddie takes the rose with an expression of bewilderment on his face, and looks at Frank’s nervous expression. Eddie smiles and takes a deep breath. He sets the rose down on his armrest and hugs Frank tightly. Frank, shocked but not against the sudden contact, gently hugs him back. As they pull away, Eddie glances down and hovers his hands above Frank’s waist, a silent check for permission. Frank nods, his smile growing at the mailman’s politeness.

Eddie smiles gently, resting his hands on Frank’s waist loosely, holding the world in his arms. They gently press their foreheads together, and just sat. The only noise was the rain outside of the windows. This moment was.. perfect. Of course it was, they finally had the courage to admit that they had feelings for each other. Or at least, they had the courage to greatly imply it. Frank looks into Eddie’s eyes, Eddie looks into Frank’s. Frank takes a small breath, and moves his head back slightly. Eddie, confused, says, “Is everything okay?” Frank nods yes. Frank sighs before looking at Eddie, his smile growing just a tad.

Frank softly mumbles something that Eddie can’t quite hear. “Hm? What did you say?” Frank sighs before saying, slightly louder,

“You are so pretty.”

Eddie blushes, caught off guard. Frank looks at Eddie’s chest, embarrassed and regretting everything that ever came out of his mouth. Eddie notices this and smiles. He rotates Frank’s head upward.

“You’re pretty too.”

Chapter 5: Bug.

Eddie places his hand back onto Frank’s waist and pulls him closer, hugging him softly. Frank blushes, and holds Eddie close in his arms. They both pull away and look at each other with adoration, with trust, with love. Frank smirks, and just stares at Eddie. Frank smiles, looks over at the drawer he keeps the cards in, and looks back at Eddie. “You know, you are great with puns.” Eddie smiles. “I wanted to make them meaningful to you.” Frank grins. Eddie looks at Frank, and takes a deep breath before pulling Frank slightly closer. They place their foreheads together and just stay that way. All of a sudden, Frank’s head starts to rotate slowly as he becomes gradually more nervous. However, this has a domino effect that leads to him becoming more nervous and his head spinning faster, which makes Eddie start laughing. Eddie lets Frank go as Frank’s head gradually spins faster. Frank’s head starts making a whirring noise because of how fast it is spinning, which only makes Eddie start cackling. They are on opposite ends of the couch now, Eddie hanging onto the armrest laughing, and Frank attempting to stop his head from spinning. Eddie laughing starts making Frank more at ease, which allows his head to slow down more and more until his head is still. Eddie is still laughing at the sheer silliness of the situation. Frank snickers slightly before shaking his head in a “Oh you~” sort of way. “I-“ Eddie wheezes in between his words, trying to keep his composure. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you!” Eddie covers his mouth in an attempt to stop laughing. Frank smiles and laughs silently. “It’s okay, Eddie. Your laugh is nice, you know. I hope I hear it more often.” Frank says this as if it was casual small talk, smiling comfortably at Eddie’s blushing face. “I- Well- Thank you, Frank, I-“ Eddie stutters for a good moment trying to figure out how to thank Frank for the compliment. Frank chuckles and moves closer to Eddie, softly grabbing his hand. This calmed Eddie down enough to stop stuttering. “Thank you, Frank. I like your laugh too.”

Frank smiles, and looks out the window to see the rain slowly becoming less violent. “Oh, the rain is passing by.” Eddie looks out of the window and sees the clouds becoming a lighter shade of gray. “Oh wow… is it just me, or does the grass seem greener after rain?” Frank smiles softly, admiring Eddie in the light of the sun, peeking through the clouds. “I suppose. Ooo!!! Eddie come see!” Frank stands excitedly and runs towards the door. Eddie raises his eyebrow and follows Frank, only to see him crouched in his garden holding something in his hands. Eddie walks over and immediately yelps at the sight of the beetle in Frank’s hands. “Maladera castanea.” Frank says, standing and holding the beetle as if it was the most precious thing in the world. “These beetles often only come out at night… I wonder why it’s here in the middle of the afternoon.” Frank says, curiosity very obvious in his voice. His expression changes to one of realization as he stares at it longer, and he appears to become saddened by something. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Eddie slowly approaches Frank, still scared by the bug. Frank sighs, crouches down, and places the beetle onto a small leaf in his garden. “It must have gotten caught in the storm or something.” Frank says sadly. “It’s sad really; I never even noticed that it was there. I could have researched it alive.” Eddie places his hand onto Frank’s back. “It’s okay, the lil’ guy had a big ol’ life!” Frank smiles and stands up.

Holding Eddie’s hand in his own, Frank softly speaks up.

“Maybe you’re right, Eddie. Maybe you are right.”

[somethingponysomething]

Why did Zhao Yuanzhou go to the Demon Hunting Bureau the way he did?

Contains spoilers

I do not mean why he went there. That is made clear in Episode 2

But why he did it the way he did. As in, arriving all cocky and mysterious, announcing himself as the great demon Zhu Yan. Including the red eyes.

But also straightening the Bureau’s sign.

And then, of course, fighting ZYC.

He seemed pretty evil there. He even killed a guy to show he can. And will. Bit ruthless. But I suppose that’s the point of his act up to that point. (It's never mentioned again, so it's even possible that the guy didn't actually die, was just used for point making and was later healed. Or not.)

And then it turns out he also wrote a letter about helping the Demon Hunting Bureau solve cases (so there’s a chance to rebuild it, despite Chongwu Camp’s sabotaging) and came to offer himself as a gift.

He could have just knocked and started with that explanation, but as ZYC came running with his sword out as soon as the great demon sauntered in, I think we can scratch that as a viable option. ZYZ knew that. After all, he did kill ZYC’s father and brother and quite a few members of the DHB. Not something someone would easily forgive or forget. If he did so without introducing himself as Zhu Yan, he would probably have been referred to the application procedure. If there is one. No idea if DHB is recruiting at that point. But then he wouldn’t have gotten ZYC’s promise to kill him. Sure, bringing up his true identity later might have done that anyway, but I think he also wanted to get an idea of ZYC’s strength and skill with any sword, but especially the Cloud Light Sword.

And that’s not all. ZYC isn’t the only one he can’t simply talk to. He has a connection to Wen Xiao, too. After all, he’s not going to request working with someone he doesn’t know, is he? The way he puts it does feel like a threat and escaping from the dungeon doesn’t help his case, though. Until the two of them meet in the hallway and she gets a number of strange flashbacks and then wonders if they have met before.

They have, of course. He was her shifu’s close friend. Although she apparently never got to see his face back then. Or heard either of his names. And something is up with her memory. Possibly caused by trauma? Hm. We never know, although we are kind of led to believe ZYZ may have something to do with that (or at least knows more) in episode 5.

But I digress.

ZYZ chooses to pretend they do not know each other for the time being. When it turns out they do know each other, he says he hid it from her because he wanted them to get to know each other again, but I think there’s more than just that. I think it has something to do with him leaving her at the DHB’s door some time ago (my guess would be 8 years, because a lot of stuff got messed up around that time) and his promise to come back for her. Including the famous note with a promise form Great Demon to stay with her until he died. If she does recognize him, she’d probably be a tad cross with him. Pretending they don’t know each other seems like the safest way.

So apart from enjoying making such a dramatic entrance, he probably believed this was the best way, perhaps the only one. And I think he was right.

Call it another hill, if you like. And feel free to join and enjoy the scenery. Or tell me why I’m wrong. I can take it and more importantly, am always interested in other people’s theories.