#I wrote it at 4 AM

[local-redhead-bookworm]

Finished Gundam 00. My closing thoughts, in no particular order:

I’m glad that almost everyone has their happy ending and something to keep working toward

I enjoyed how Graham’s arc was about learning to live for something other than revenge (you may be noticing a recurring pattern with me). He spent most of season two being driven only by his desire to fight Setsuna again for honor, and how it closes with him finding something new to live for.

I still find Katagiri’s story a bit frustrating. Like yes Sumeragi shouldn’t have used his feelings to her advantage, but my guy. Becoming a fascist is already a bad idea, somehow it’s even worse when it’s motivated by relationship issues

Lyle killing Al-Saachez is just as deserved as if Setsuna had done it. I know we’d just had the whole big realization about the necessity of understanding each other, but Al-Saachez had no interest in trying to understand anyone else.

I was so upset about Tieria, but if he’s still alive inside Veda he’s not really gone. It’s like how in Ninjago Pixal went from an android body to being a program in Zane’s memory bank. Idk, it’s been a long time since I watched Ninjago

This show takes a very interesting philosophy on war. Wing asked more vague questions on the ethics of war, and what happens when you take humanity out of the fight and replace it with technology. IBO comes closest to truly analyzing the role of capitalism in war. But 00 questions the interplay of diplomacy and war, and how our approach to interpersonal conflict affects how we approach conflict on a broader scale. The message I feel 00 was aiming for is one that aligns with some of my core beliefs: in order for us to live at peace, we must see each other as equals and make every possible effort to understand each other. We may not always succeed, but if we approach our problems with the goal to find common ground and work together, the world will be a better place. Will it be perfect? No. But we don’t have to be perfect, we just have to try to be better

I’m really fascinated by the angle this show has on religion, sin, and deity. The religious themes are baked into the show, starting with a protagonist raised in a militaristic religious war, to the final villain being a man who wants to make himself God because he sees humanity as below him. There is also an element of guilt, the idea that there is blood on everyone’s hands. There is blood on the hands of the soldiers, but there is also blood on the hands of the civilians who choose to remain ignorant and look away. But the show does not say that we have to find a way to wash off that blood, only that we learn from the past and keep growing and trying to be better each day.

I did feel like all of this was slightly undercut by the fact that at the end, Celestial Being is still active. However, it did seem that Celestial Being would be looking less to act as they did in season one and more to work in conjunction with diplomatic forces, as a last resort when all else failed or intervening to help the innocent. I’m still a bit saddened that Setsuna doesn’t get to settle down and live a peaceful life, but that wouldn’t be realistic with him, to be fair. Marina says it herself, all he knows how to do is fight; if he cannot stop fighting, he has to change how and why he fights.

I really enjoyed this show overall. To be fair, there’s yet to be a single Gundam piece I wholeheartedly dislike, but I like a lot of how this story was told.

I feel like this one was a lot less character-oriented than other Gundam stories were. It works for this particular story, because like Wing, it’s interested in asking a broader philosophical question and less on the characters themselves in the situations. The characters’ backstories are important to why they choose to become involved with Celestial Being, but their life experiences did not have much influence on them otherwise. I do think that’s because the scope of this show was so big, and we as the audience are looking at this entire story from a much broader scope, so the extreme minutiae of character are less important than the broad strokes that lay the scene for a much bigger conversation.

[carpboy3000]

Excerpt from A Pre-Rapture Pictorial History, 3rd Edition, p. 356: “...Of what can be translated from the surviving art and literature, Helianthian Summer solstices were days of song, spent in fields. The Farmer Queen is accredited with the composition of many of these melodies, some of which survive vestigially amongst modern-day citizens of Sanctuary.1”

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[baeshijima]

okay so i have kind of but not really met anaxa in game but !!

anaxa x sunshine reader.

like... renown infamous genius scholar anaxagoras who doesn’t take anything from anyone is almost akin to a cat when with you, putting on an adamant front only to crumble and — begrudgingly, he tries to stress, though he really isn't fooling anyone, much less himself — ultimately give in to your whims; answering your mundane questions, listening and providing his own quips (sometimes sincere, often snappy) here and there to your endless rambles, trailing behind you hot on your heels only to eventually catch up to your side as you wander off to who knows where, yammering on about who knows what.

(you're planning to visit okhema, is what he gathered from your animated retelling of some bakery you'd heard from word-of-mouth which was supposed to be good. hah! why would you waste your time on such trivialities when you could be graced with the honour of his tutelage on the topic of free speech and— curses, how did you get so far ahead?)

in spite of his… less than successful attempts to thwart these pesky thoughts and feelings from festering within, anaxagoras long since knew the irreversible truth brought by your appearance in his life — from the very first moment you bumped into him amid your haste, stray papers sent flying as the large leather-bound books thudded against the library floor. the less-than-flattering slew of words initally locked and loaded, ready to be spewed, oddly dissipated on the tip of his tongue the second he saw your frantic expression, hasty movements in re-gathering the strewn papers, and clumsy set of apologies spilling from your lips. it was almost trance-like, the manner in which he kneeled as he began to collect the flyaway papers surrounding him.

after returning them to you with a kindly, “who runs in a narrow hallway? watch where you’re going next time, you may not be so fortunate with the next collision,” anaxa naively thought that would be the end of that. he did not foresee running into you more frequently from thereafter, feeling strangely moved as a foreign warmth settled within every time you never failed to greet him with a beaming grin, eventually accompanied by the, dare he speculate after months upon months of pouring over and overanalysing your interactions, affectionate tone when calling his name. having been subject to the numerous days— weeks, even — spent listening to your attempts at correctly pronouncing his name, anaxa really should be immune to the effects. unfortunately for him, he could not be any further from the truth.

(anaxa chooses to ignore how he purposely nitpicked your pronunciation, extending the time spent teaching you how to do so just to hear you say his name a little more. not his proudest moment, but he finds it worth all the extra effort when you greet him as such, his name seamlessly rolling off your tongue coupled with your starry eyes and rapturing cadence as you ramble om about whatever caught your interest that day.)

perhaps he should have expected this outcome. after all, for someone who enjoys his solitude, anaxa has caught himself seeking you out on more occasions than deemed appropriate for mere acquaintances. no, not even friends would be this forefront. it was a predetermined outcome, anaxa deduces, the way in which your presence endlesslh draws him in like a shadow to a light— a moth to a flame.

if only to see your blinding smile directed towards and caused by him, anaxa supposes he wouldn't mind your nonsensical chatter replacing the usual white noise droning on in the background. for how long? well, for as long as he continues to breathe seems sufficient enough.

(you ought to stop entertaining some of those foolish scholars, however. they really are not worth wasting a second more than necessary on when he himself has far more knowledge and wit they do combined.)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I really want you to get started on Jurassic Park now after reading your tags.

All right, you asked for it! This post is going to be long because I've been rereading Jurassic Park since I was about 10 years old. But. My thoughts:

Jurassic Park is the oldest story in the world: one about hubris, and the price men pay for their ignorance of nature. From the first moment the protagonists step foot on the island, they can see it. There are poisonous plants next to the pool because they "look pretty." The harbor has no retaining wall because tropical storms aren't considered important. And there's a steep price for that hubris. Wu doesn't bother to learn the dinosaurs' names before breeding them, Nedry ignores them as unprogrammable, Malcolm mansplains them to their own creators, Regis laughs at the idea of them escaping, Hammond relentlessly monetizes them, Arnold insists he can control them... And they all get eaten by dinosaurs. It's the characters with the good sense to be overawed and scared (Muldoon, Gennaro, the paleontologists, the kids) who make it out alive. Almost paradigm.

More specifically, it's a book about the most fundamental principle of engineering: be scared, be confused, and then do something anyway. Then do something else, then something else, until something works. Timmy isn't a master hacker in the book; he's just (unlike Grant) willing to push buttons on the computer until he finds the power grid. Gennaro's still a scaredy cat in the book, but he clenches his teeth and goes into the velociraptor nest anyway. The heroic characters are the ones who conclude someone has to do something, despite not knowing what that something is. The villainous ones are the ones who refuse responsibility.

Speaking of which, can we talk about Ian Malcolm? I'm a sucker for a good Cassandra character, especially one that manages to get even the genre-savvy reader rolling their eyes and going "will you shut up?" And Malcolm is one of the best, every off-putting academic habit rolled into one: He thinks he's better than other people for not liking sports. He brags about not caring about appearances and then comments on Sattler's legs. He assumes Hammond has read his monograph and — when Hammond reveals he hasn't — pulls out a copy that he keeps on his person at all times to have Hammond read on the plane. He smugly explains that other characters should've foreseen they'd be killed by dinosaurs, only to be killed by dinosaurs. He calls his theory the Malcolm Effect. I do love Jeff Goldblum's gentler, more charming take on the character ("See, here, now I'm sitting by myself, talking to myself, that's chaos theory" I say literally every time I ask a question of someone who just left the room). But I prefer the way original Malcolm gets away with being right about everything because we so so badly want him to be wrong.

Speaking of that comment about the legs: by the low low bar of 80s/90s thriller writers, Crichton is surprisingly progressive. Jurassic Park invites us to laugh with (and roll our eyes with) Sattler, every time someone expresses shock the world's top paleobotanist is a woman. The Lost World perfectly captures the "women in STEM have to be twice as competent to get half the respect" dynamic, and it's a story about the male characters over-estimating their own competence as the female ones go about saving the day. Race isn't handled perfectly, but it is discussed in both books. Malcolm's chauvinism is designed to make everything else he says a bitter pill, to poison us against him. Crichton's no feminist. But Sattler's hardiness — later Harding's and Kelly's as well — are shown as hard-won in a world that batters nerdy girls so hard that only the toughest survive.

And Malcolm is just one of the many ways Jurassic Park masterfully lampoons scientific bullshit. After little Tina is bitten by a "strange lizard" and nearly dies from the swelling, Dr. Cruz assures her parents that lizards bite zookeepers all the time, that some people are allergic to lizard venom, and that the lizard Tina drew resembles a basilisk — and then we cut to him talking to his fellow MD. Where we find out that lizards don't attack humans in the wild, no human they know of has ever been hospitalized for a lizard bite, basilisks aren't venomous, and Tina's condition doesn't resemble an allergic reaction. They have no idea what this "lizard" (a Procompsognathus) could be or how it poisoned this kid, but they've been taught to obfuscate rather than admit that. Scientists are arrogant, and ignorant of their ignorance.

But the book is every bit as positive about empiricism as it is negative about individual scientists. The seamless way Crichton blends science fiction with science fact gets me every time. His preface connects Watson & Crick to Swanson & Boyer to Malcolm & Levine, explaining each step of the research process as he goes. He goes on to explain how Genetech developed its ideas from IBM, and that IBM and Genetech both contributed to InGen, which in turn influenced Biosyn, funded by Hamaguri... and only two of those names are fictional, but don't worry about which. Crichton does his homework, and then he presents his homework in the most compelling way of any writer I've ever encountered.

You need no further proof than the technologies — satellite phones, electric cars, touchscreens, gene editing — that were sci fi in 1990, commonplace today. Crichton did the reading. And he rolls that science out ever-so-slowly: dribbling first the mystery of the worker with a 3-foot gash in his torso who claims a bird of prey did it, then the mystery of the resort that needs the world's most powerful data storage, then the mystery of the billionaire who calls in the middle of the night with "urgent" questions about what baby dinosaurs eat... Until even 10-year-old me could look at that picture of a fractal and go "ohhh, I see how the unstable phase shifts of chaos theory explain the fact that a thunderstorm caused that guy to get eaten by a T. rex." Almost paradigm.

And all Jurassic Park's banging on about chaos theory belies a deep understanding of how interconnected ecosystems are. Animals, like plants, like subatomic particles, must be understood holistically. Pretending that the best way to learn the truth of any system is through breaking it down "is like saying scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast is human nature. It's nothing of the sort. It's uniquely Western training." Crichton clearly loves biology: "a single fertilized egg has a 100,000 genes, which act in a coordinated way, switching on and off at specific times, to transform that single cell... A house is simple in comparison. But even so, workmen build the stairs wrong, they put the sink in backward, the tile man doesn't show up when he's supposed to. All kinds of things go wrong. And yet the fly that lands on the workman's lunch is perfect." And he clearly hates what capitalism has done to biotechnology.

Hammond the venture capitalist is a perfectly despicable villain: No dinosaurs have escaped, because I said so. If there are problems, no there aren't. Put on a good show for investors, no matter how many contractors die in the process. Talk about all the "good" the park will do by making tons of money. The kids are stranded and the tech expert's dead? No they're not, because I said so, now pass the ice cream. It's truly a delight watching him get eaten by dinosaurs.

For that matter, Jurassic Park is bursting with details of style over substance. There are cutesy Apatosaurus cutouts in the hotel rooms and bars on the widows, a half-finished restaurant covered in Pterosaur poop, and a celebrity-narrated tour track that can't synchronize with the dinosaurs. It's trying to be Disney World, and it's actually a roadside zoo. The signage — "When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth," the hand-lettered "Welcome to Jurassic Park", the room (and department) called "Control" — isn't subtle in its irony. But it is fun.

Which is yet another great sci fi trick. "Our funding is infinite but our peer review sucks" perfectly sets up the blend of the accurate with the plot-fueling (likely why Crichton reuses it several times). Why are there Pterosaurs in a dinosaur park? Our funding is infinite but our peer review sucks. Why are so many Cretaceous dinosaurs in Jurassic Park? Our funding is infinite but our peer review sucks. You didn't know Dilophosaurus is venomous? Our funding is infinite... It's perfect, because it's the opposite of how the scientific process usually works. Again: Crichton knows his shit, and he knows how to communicate it.

Like, even when I'm reading Sphere or Terminal Man — books where I'm perfectly aware I know more than Crichton on the subject, not in the least because their science inevitably became outdated — I still find myself believing, at least for the length of the story. You don't have to suspend disbelief when reading Crichton's work; he hoists it into the stratosphere for you. Half the time he won't give it back even after you're done. Almost paradigm.

But despite all that nerdery, Jurassic Park is still a rocking adventure story that builds momentum until it smashes to its conclusion at 70 miles an hour, ending the millisecond it can do so with not a word of denouement. You can practically hear that last deep piano note on the final words. It's cinematic as hell. This is Crichton post-Westworld, pre-Twister, the ultimate adventure writer. He reads, clearly, avoiding the errors of sci fi amateurs who watch too many movies (the T. rex has a distinctive smell, the island is relentlessly humid, so on) but he knows how to make a tight fast-moving story that you can consume in under three hours. His imagery is powerful, his pacing is on point, and his plot sucks you in and shoots you out like a water slide.

Jurassic Park is fun. It's informative. It makes you laugh, and gasp, and sigh, and think. It has its flaws (Harding Sr. fades out in the 3rd act, Grant's Maiasaura expertise never pays off) but those are minor in a book that stands up so well to rerereading. Almost paradigm.

[pissterdaniel]

I took my golden kiwi ice skating!

and made this silly video of us doing skills

🎵 The Blue Danube Waltz - Johann Strauss II

Phiwi had a lovely time!

[macksartblock]

beware of burnout it's so real i'm afraid

also bc ended up making my writing into a font to avoid killing my hand as much and bc I saw Caden do this, I thought it would be fun to see who y'all think it suits lol

[thetrueressii]

finally did a saint and enot comic since i always wanted to do that, i might add more to this since theres some back and forth i would like to do to add to their dynamic

essentially my idea for enot and saint is that saint follows the idea that existence, at least in the material plane, is like an endless play where its actors are forced to stay on stage and play forever and it is their task to relieve these actors from this endless play so they may rest

but enot loves plays especially romances and dramas

they see no issue with an endless play as the show is still ran and controlled by the actors at the end of the day so why wouldnt they just do what they wanted, the subject of the play itself never mattered anyways

plus the play would be pretty boring if there were no more actors for its two eternal spectators

tho weirdly enot with their infinite knowledge, wisdom, and power doesnt stop saint in their task, sometimes even encourages it, with no real answer to why

is it because enot knows that this task will never end and is pointless or is it because enot doesnt actually know if this task is able to be completed which excites him, offering a new experience to one who has experienced everything

or is it because hes stupidly romantic who loves the idea of them being the only two people left in the world

only enot would know

(i totally stole the stageplay analogy from @/fishyaudio im sorry its just so good for this)

[morgaseus]

I’ve encountered a few on AO3 but I too am desperate for more Gojo fics anywhere 😭 if you have any recommendations too please I beg give some to meee 😭😭

Ohhh yesss ive got quite a few! Also, please look out for the content warnings!

Series

Sincerely not by saintobios (arranged marriage, modern au) (read this yrs ago so i cant remember much but i do remember crying at 10 pm in the kitchen while reading this)

Sundered by tojikai (baby daddy gojo, modern au)( made me sob )

Kintsugi by NoahLaval (arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, gojo x oc) (I love this! made me cry a lot, like really..)

No Cure by Tawus (enemies to lovers, reader is a curse user)

Exposure therapy by seoafin (angst, reader is in the same year as sashisu, au where toji became a teacher, also a geto/reader, but shoko is the endgame)(you should check out their other works too!)

Monster Hospital by mushmoon12 (enemies/rivals to lovers, lots of smut)

intrinsic warmth by thatdesklamp (angst, childhood friends to lovers)(yeah...)

Cursed Love by maespaces (angst, reader is a not a jujutsu sorcerer )(i forgot to add this!😭😭😭 but srsly tho rllylove this one, vry well written! im still reading it but u can tell ure in for a bumpy ride🥹)

Oneshots

Grey Cashmere by vagabond-umlaut (angst with a happy end, set during hidden inventory, reader is in the same year as sashisu)(one of my all time faves!!! its also part of a series but can be read as a standalone!)

an unwanted letter by piichuu (angst, post ch 236?ig?)(i read this during class... i just hope my classmates didnt see me cry)

Others. (I have not read this yet but ive been keeping an eye on it! Thought i might share as well)

Infidelity by tawus (angst, gojo and reader are married)

one day, three autumns by vagabond-umlaut (arranged marriage)

Minazuki by quirklessidiot (enemies to lovers, arranged marriage)

Devoted by aerinth (angst, friends to lovers)(also a geto/reader)

the color yellow by rhydonium (angst, hanahaki disease)(also a geto/reader)

Bonus!

Abalone on the shore by unolvrs (I dont rlly read much toji fics but this one made me sob on a morning! You'll need tissues for this one ig...😞)

[megacarapa]

i am once again back with another extra comic for my dumbass fic anyway au where senku fucking snaps

[ghostedghouls]

caught

✢ you get lost in the woods. A certain ghoul finds you and takes what he craves.

✢ pairing: Swiss x reader (f)

✢ genre: smut

✢ warnings: CNC, breeding kink, primal play, creampie, knotting, rough, biting, blood, hunting, dirty talk, dry humping, almost no foreplay, 1 spank, aftercare

✢ a/n: cnc is consensual non-con. A roleplay. Both Swiss and reader have given consent beforehand in this, even though I’m not going to write it out. Read this at your own risk, know your limits! <3

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you rushed through the overgrown forest. Thorns and leaves whipping your legs until they were scratched up and bloody. Your clothes had been torn at the back from the first time the ghoul had almost caught you.

It all had started this morning when you were tasked by Copia to forage for some herbs Mountain had requested. He wanted to go collect them himself, like he normally would, but the ghouls’ heats were approaching and Copia didn’t want to risk the possiblity of it hitting right as Mountain was away from the abbey. For the sake of their safety (and the safety of the siblings) the ghouls were normally locked into their den for the duration of their heats. It worked best for everyone involved and the ghouls didn’t mind, as long as they got to work everything out of their system. It also helped calm them, knowing that noone would enter their territory and destroy their nests.

You had collected two baskets full of yarrow by the time the sun had begun to set. Mountain had told you about them being useful against fevers, something that the ghouls sometimes had to deal with during their heats. So you had carefully plucked as many of them as you could, placing them into the woven baskets neatly.

Satisfied with your work you decided that it was time to return to the abbey to deliver the herbs. You knew they needed to be prepared right away or they would spoil, so you tried to be quick. Stumbling through the thick overgrowth, following the slim path you thought you recognized, you realized that you didn’t seem to get any closer to the abbey. You hadn’t walked that far into the forest, had you? You should have been able to see the buildings by now. You stopped walking for a second, turning around to watch where you had come from. Should you turn back? You shook your head as you decided against it. Surely you would reach the edge of the forest soon, you just had to keep walking. So you continued following the tiny path, not noticing how it grew slimmer and slimmer until it wasn’t a path at all; only grass and bushes. 

It had gotten significantly darker now, crickets were starting to fill the silence as the last sun rays snuck their way through the trees. You felt yourself slow down, not sure what you were supposed to do now. No matter which way you’d go, you wouldn’t reach the abbey before it was completely dark outside, that was for sure.

You stopped walking again, listening to the birds sing their final songs of the day in the distance. A loud snap made you whirl around quickly, the fragile plants almost falling out of the baskets. But as you tried to see what had caused the sound, your eyes struggled. It was too dark already, not even squinting worked. You held your breath waiting for another sound. Another snap - this time closer - made you back up a little. 

“Hello?”, you called out into the night. 

Suddenly a silver glimmer caught your eye and you watched as the dark figure of a ghoul stalked towards you. Its eyes were locked on you. Didn’t it see that you had noticed it? You were staring directly at it. With its superior vision, it should have been able to see that. But it kept approaching, slowly and predatory.

You wanted to feel relieved that one of the ghouls had found you, be relieved that it would lead you back to the abbey. But the way the creature was stalking you, like it would stalk its prey, sent shivers down your spine. The ghouls weren’t supposed to be out here anymore. They all were supposed to be at the abbey, preparing for their heats. A ghoul being out here could only mean trouble.

You started backing up slowly, setting one foot behind the other, never removing your gaze from the still approaching creature. 

You must have stepped on a twig, because something snapped under your foot and created a loud sound that echoed through the forest. The sudden sound triggered the ghoul to pounce, sprinting towards you. You dropped the baskets immediately, herbs falling to the ground gracelessly. 

And then you started running as well.

If this was a ghoul in heat it would mean one thing and one thing only; you had to get away from it at all costs.

You ran as fast as you possibly could, but the footsteps behind you grew closer with each stride. There was no use in trying to out-run a ghoul. They would always catch up to you eventually. This was most likely a game to it, its hunting instinct triggered now that you had started running away from it. It didn’t take long before you could feel claws graze your back with a swift swipe. The sharp claws dug into the fabric of your clothes, ripping the back of them open. You stumbled slightly as you were pulled backwards by the force of it. With all the strength you had, you pushed yourself forwards again, tearing yourself free from the grip the demon had on the fabric. It glowled low in its throat as you managed to free yourself.

Adrenaline rushed through you again, the waves of it hot under your skin. Your legs were screaming at you to stop but you kept on pushing forwards, increasing the distance between you and the demon.

And that’s where you were now; stumbling through the thick vegetation, legs cut open and bleeding.

You didn’t hear the ghoul’s footsteps anymore, and for a moment you felt safe. You slowed down slightly, not quite daring to stop completely, though. Maybe the ghoul had lost your trace? It was unlikely but as you looked behind yourself, there was no sight of it.

Your steps slowed down further until you were walking. Maybe it had given up after chasing you around the woods for so long. Perhaps it deemed you to be too much of a pain in the ass to persue any further, and decided to find an easier target. Or maybe-

A yelp was ripped from your throat as your front hit the mossy ground. You landed softly but the fall still managed to knock the wind out of you, especially because something - or someone - had collapsed on top of you. 

You felt yourself being pushed into the ground forcefully and your adrenaline spiked again. But this time you couldn’t run.

You couldn’t see exactly what had knocked you down but you didn’t need to look to know that it was the ghoul. It snarled and panted above you, one clawed hand had grabbed the back of your throat, pushing your face down. You tried to struggle out of its grasp but it was too strong.

“Thought you could get away this easily? Pathetic.”

Swiss.

You froze as you heard his voice, so close to your ear it sent a shiver down your spine. His full weight was on top of you, pinning you down, and as he shifted to get an even better grip, you felt something.

You nearly choked as you felt his erection press against your ass. With renewed vigor you tried to push him off of you, get away from him, but your struggling only seemed to excite him even more. His hips pressed into your behind harder, making you feel the outline of him. With a whimper you collapsed onto the ground again, boneless. The multi ghoul let out a breathy “fuck” as he ground his hips into you.

“I followed you through the entire forest. Fuck-... followed your scent and knew I had to have you. Had to breed that little cunt of yours. And look at you now; all ready for me to have.”, he panted into your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your face. You felt your stomach drop at his words, fear replacing the adrenaline in your veins.

“And you’re going to be a good little bitch and take it. Take everything I give you.”

A loud rip echoed through the otherwise quiet forest as one clawed finger tore through the fabric of your clothes. He didn’t take his time, removing the scraps unceremoniously - rushed. The forest air felt cold on your skin and you errupted in goosebumps. The ghoul seemed to like that, a smirk on his lips as he dipped down to lick up your spine from the base to your neck, where he was still holding you down firmly like a misbehaving dog. You took a chance and pushed yourself up again, catching the ghoul off guard. He scrambled after you with a low growl, one of his big hands catching one of your ankles and dragging you backwards towards him. You kicked your other leg in his direction but he easily caught it as well.

With both ankles in his claws, he turned you around forcefully, your front now exposed to his piercing gaze. His eyes seemed crazed as they scanned your face, then your chest, and finally your exposed crotch. You wanted to close your legs, to hide your naked form from him, but he forced your ankles apart further, squeezing his narrow hips between your thighs. His chest was heaving as he panted. You could feel the heat from his body through his clothes.

You had seen the ghouls in heat before, and this was exactly like it. The heightened body temperature, the piercing gaze, the overtaking of instincts. Swiss was not thinking clearly. He was truly and utterly ghoul in this moment.

As if on cue, the multi ghoul ground his hips into your core, making you gasp. You could see his hard cock strain against the front of his pants and you swallowed thickly. He let go of your ankles in favor of one of his hands supporting his weight next to your head while the other hand trailed down your body to your core. You writhed under him, trying to move away from his touch, but there was nowhere for you to go with the ghoul surrounding you completely.

He leaned down further, his fangs ghosting over the skin of your throat. And suddenly he bit down, his thumb finding your clit at the same time. You cried out at the sensation. His bite felt like a shard of ice, the pain gradually dulling down until it was only a light throbbing. He released the tender skin, licking it with a forked tongue. You didn’t know if he had drawn blood or not, but he let out a satisfied grunt as he looked at the bruise.

His thumb was still teasing your clit, pushing down harder before barely making contact. Your hands tried to grab at his arms, push him away but he wouldn’t budge. As he pressed down harder a breath escaped you, your hips bucking upwards slightly. The multi ghoul almost came in his pants right then and there.

“Shit, I’m gonna fuck you so good.”, he very near whined as his hands started working on the front of his pants. His hard cock sprang out immediately as he pushed his pants down just enough for him to be able to grab himself fully. You watched with wide eyes as Swiss fucked into his fist a few times. His head thrown back in pleasure.

After a few more thrusts he grabbed himself tightly, placing the head of his dick against your entrance and pushing in. You yelped as you felt yourself being stretched open by him, but it was slow. Swiss growled with impatience, pulling out roughly before letting a trail of spit fall from his lips onto your core. He spread the wetness with his tip, gliding from your entrance to your clit and back down. He positioned himself again and pushed his hips fowards roughly, earning himself another yelp from you. He started off with an unforgiving pace right away, his hips slamming into yours with such a force it rocked you upwards slightly. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t help yourself as you grabbed Swiss’ back to steady yourself somewhat.

The multi ghoul let out lewd groans and curses as he kept fucking into you as if his life depended on it. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling them towards himself every time his hips pushed forwards.

He began panting again, his eyes sharp as he watched his dick disappear into your body over and over again.

“Knew this pussy would take my cock so well. Mmh fuck-”

He grabbed you harder before shoving you off his dick, turning you around again so that you were on your hands and knees before him. With a strong hand he pushed your head down, your neck straining uncomfortably with the new position. With the new position your ass was exposed to him like you were a bitch in heat and you could feel your face heat up at the thought.

Without a warning his palm came down hard on your ass cheek. Tears stung in your eyes as he entered you again, his claws grabbing your hips with such a force you knew they would leave bruises. He picked up the pace again, his thrusts hard and fast as he used your body for his pleasure. Your face was rocked into the ground with each thrust, the smell of wet moss filling your nose.

“Shit, sweetheart. I’m going to breed you, fill you up with my cum and leave you dripping for days.”

You clenched around him involuntarily, a high pitched whine leaving your lips. “You like that? Hm? Like the idea of me filling you to the brim and then leaving you to drip my good stuff all over the forest as you make your way back to the abbey?”

One of his hands let go of your hip and trailed around to your front to find your clitoris again. As his skilled fingers started stroking the sensetive bundle of nerves, you felt your mind go blank for a second.

Swiss grunted as you clenched down on him again, lost in the pleasure.

“Fuck- but before that, I’m going to stuff you with my knot. Make you come around it.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt the pleasure building in your lower stomach. His fingers were working your clit in fast circles and his thick cock hit all the right places inside of you. You were so fucking close to cumming all over him.

Swiss was close too. You could tell by the way he muttered out dirty words that were too unintelligible for you to understand, his hips snapping wildly into you.

“Cum on my dick. Be a good little breeding bitch and come on my cock.”

You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your walls clenching down tightly on the multi ghoul’s cock. He groaned and moaned as you shook from the pleasure. And with a few more thrusts he pushed into you fully, his knot stretching you even further until it popped in, securing Swiss to your backside. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, filling you with his hot cum, spurt after spurt. He shivered as his front collapsed onto your back. His lips pressed tiny kisses between your shoulder blades, his fangs nipping gently along the way. 

It took some time for the multi ghoul to catch himself. Once he had given you every last drop of his cum, he slumped back slightly, making you wince as his still swollen knot caught on your entrance. Swiss was quick to correct his posture as not to cause you any more discomfort.

“Are you alright?”, he asked as he moved to lay the two of you down on your sides so you were spooning, careful to not move his hips too much.

“Yeah, just a bit tired from all the running.”

“If it was the running that made you tired, I didn’t do a good enough job just now.”, the tall ghoul joked as he nuzzled his face into your neck, licking the purple bruise there.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt? Did you enjoy yourself?”, Swiss asked with a whisper, his hands caressing your side tenderly.

“I’m sure. Don’t worry, love. And yes, of course I enjoyed myself. I always do.”, you answered, your hand grabbing his at your side and moving it to your lips so you could kiss it. Swiss melted behind you, snuggling himself closer to your body.

“But I just have to ask”, you began, playing with his fingers gently, “What were you doing out here? I thought you were going to start your heat?”

Swiss shook his head, giving you a toothy grin, “No, not yet. We were worried about you being gone for so long, so they sent me to find you. I still have a few more days before my heat starts. Mountain is already going through it though, so I guess it was a good idea to send you foraging.” He leaned in closer, kissing your shoulder. “It also gave me the opportunity for our little romp just now.”. You laughed as you hit his leg playfully.

“We should probably get back soon though, before they start sending out other ghouls to look for us.”, he huffed out, moving his hips to pull out of you. His knot still caught at your entrance but with a bit of manuvering he managed to pull out completely without hurting you. His cum immediately started dripping out of you and he watched with half lidded eyes as the sticky white substance trailed down your leg. 

“I would love to get you cleaned up, darlin’, but I think I like this sight way too much.”

You huffed out a weak laugh as you got up, searching for your clothes, or what was left of them anyway. You held up your ruined clothes and Swiss ducked away. “Sorry. I might have gotten a bit carried away. But the chase really riled me up, you know?.”, he explained sheepishly and you chuckled. Swiss removed his jacket for you to wear. Thankfully it was quite large on you, so it covered your butt well enough.

He grabbed your waist tenderly, pulling you close to his body so he could place a kiss on your lips. You melted against him as he held you for a moment. After a minute or two you two seperated and a toothy grin spread across Swiss’ masked face.

“I can’t believe you got lost.”, he teased you. Your face felt hot suddenly.

“Well, you try to navigate through the forest with shitty human senses! Also, you made me spill all of the herbs. We will have to go find them now.”

“You didn’t have to drop them you know. Could have put them aside gently.”

“Shut up, Swiss.”

[beanghostprincess]

Zoro and Sanji's devotion to Luffy is fundamentally different in the sense that:

Zoro considers Luffy to be this sort of deity to him because he has never believed in anything, not before Luffy appeared in his life and gave him a future and a life to share while he tries to fulfill his dream. They're both kings. Equals. Zoro would go to hell and back (and has) for Luffy and would give his life for him because he has given him something bigger than his own original dream. And he worships Luffy but in a way in which both of them win because Luffy wants to devour him and Zoro wants to be consumed by him.

Sanji follows Luffy with so much dependence it would be worrisome, if it wasn't because Luffy is basically the same. Call it codependency if you want. But despite sharing the same wish for not wanting to be separated and the fear of losing each other, Sanji seems to offer his life and persona to Luffy in a way that might as well could be just Sanji giving him his heart on a platter. Sanji used to base the value of his life on not being like the Vinsmokes, but now hay he can't say that, he does that thing valuing himself as Luffy's cook.

The thing is: Zoro gives and takes. Worships and is worshipped back by a king and a god, being a king himself too. While Sanji gives and gives and refuses to take because he thinks his whole existence is to serve. Their whole lives revolve around Luffy, yes, but not in the same way.

[knightoflove]

Self shippers who have to deal with a lot of aches and pain, whether it’s because you have chronic pain or have a physically demanding job.

Your f/o doesn’t mind helping you. They love you, so of course they’ll help with anything

💛 Cooking your meals

🧡 Running you a hot shower/bath and helping you wash up

💛 Massaging any sore spots

🧡 Applying salonpas and getting you comfy with your heat pad

💛 Keeping track of all your pain medications

They’ll never judge how many chores you can or can’t do, or if you can’t do any chores at all. They adore you, all of you <3

[wren-kitchens]

i can’t find the words

1492 words

the infirmary is silent, save for the raspy breathing of its only inhabitant. it took a long while for him to ignore the pain enough to drift off, but I doubt his dreams are being particularly kind to him; getting tortured does that to a guy. apollo left after he was certain he had done all he could, and is currently resting. if you think harming a god like that takes a lot of power, healing a god tends to take twice that much —you can’t pour from an empty oinochoe, as they say, and if poseidon's sorry state is anything to go by, he'll be needed again pretty soon. 

okay this one is pretty much entirely based on @neal-illustrator's famtheon hkfdj this is also partly inspired by luke Sobbing in the live-streamed watchthrough of the ithica saga songs

have some zeus & poseidon hurt/comfort 👍 a part 2 to this!

cw: mentions of torture and injury!

the infirmary is silent, save for the raspy breathing of its only inhabitant. it took a long while for him to ignore the pain enough to drift off, but I doubt his dreams are being particularly kind to him; getting tortured does that to a guy. apollo left after he was certain he had done all he could, and is currently resting. if you think harming a god like that takes a lot of power, healing a god tends to take twice that much —you can’t pour from an empty oinochoe, as they say, and if poseidon's sorry state is anything to go by, he'll be needed again pretty soon. 

of course, all of olympus has heard the news—courtesy of hermes, to no one's surprise—and yet even the trickster god himself has not set foot in the healing chambers. if you ask me (and really, who else is there to ask?), they’re all rather frightened. not of poseidon himself, or the injuries, but of what the two combined represent: if the god of the ocean, all-powerful and second strongest deity in all the land, can be taken down by a mere mortal.. what does that say for the rest of them? 

no one other than I actually dare to voice this sentiment, but it hangs heavy in the air near the silent infirmary. the area is usually less bustling, due to its solemn nature, but athena's brief visit after her.. little spat with zeus brought flocks of siblings and uncles and cousins to simper and sympathise and bring flowers of every kind. after all, a god wounding another is hardly an uncommon sight—and not even remotely cause for concern. now, poseidon's chamber remains empty of any signs of life other than the god himself in the bed, and smears of golden ichor on the bedsheets from what his bandages could not contain. a grim sight indeed.

although- I tell a lie. for the first time since poseidon arrived, someone other than apollo enters the chamber—uncharacteristically hesitant, almost walking back out as they feel the crushing silence in the place. the god carries an almost amusingly small flower when compared to their size, but the expression on their face erases any hilarity the situation may have created. after all, it's one thing to hear the god of the ocean was struck down by a mortal—it's another matter entirely to see your elder brother near-lifeless after being tortured with his own weapon. 

the fact that his brother remains asleep is both a source of anxiety and relief for zeus. it's not news to anyone that the king of gods does not like to show weakness, let alone affection, and poseidon's lack of consciousness combined with the rest of the pantheon's aversion to the infirmary allows for him to act unobserved (of course, they are not entirely unobserved, but they are unaware of my existence, dear reader). on the other hand.. the empty look on the sleeping ocean god's face, accompanied by the ichor-stained bandages across his torso and eye brings a mortifying dread to zeus' heart that he would vehemently deny ever experiencing, even to himself.

poseidon stirs, muttering something inaudible, and zeus practically freezes in place. he makes to turn over, and immediately groans in pain, startling awake. it takes a second for him to regain his bearings, but when he does, he practically stares at zeus, visibly surprised. momentarily, the brothers gape at one another, both feeling somewhat caught out, before finally, zeus speaks. 

"I- brother!" he says, making an attempt at his usual bravado and falling ever so slightly short. "I see you are- making a speedy recovery?"

blinking back sleep and lasting confusion, poseidon clears his throat- and suppresses a wince as his wounds protest. "yes, I- apollo has been doing.. good work."

"I can see." zeus tries for a confident smile. it doesn't quite reach his eyes as it typically does. "that- the colour of your skin is.. coming back, I believe."  

"oh." poseidon raises a hand, glancing at the back of it. "I suppose- yes, it is." he looks back at zeus. "brother.. what are you doing here?"

zeus scoffs. "what- I cannot visit you when you are ill?" he says, hoping he sounds more flippant than he suspects he does. "am I not typically kind?"

poseidon decides not to answer the second question. "it's simply out of the ordinary for you." he says cautiously, on instinct. "besides, do you see another soul here?"

"you need rest!" zeus says, as if it was meant to be obvious. "it would be rude to interrupt-"

"zeus," poseidon says, and zeus stops in his tracks. "why are you here?" 

zeus opens his mouth to say something along the lines of 'it's my duty', or 'do you think me so heartless?', but nothing of the sort comes out. in fact- nothing comes out at all, to both his and poseidon's surprise, other than a painfully quiet exhale, containing far more emotion than he ever wants to express in his life again. something shifts in poseidon's expression, as if he understood what that meant, and zeus is about to blast them both into ash when poseidon reaches a hand out. 

"brother, I will be fine." he says, and it suddenly occurs to zeus that he's offering to hold his hand. without his say, zeus' eyes dart to poseidon's amputated arm, something seizing in his chest in a way that has not occurred in centuries. "if kro-"

"I know." zeus says before poseidon can continue, like he can dispel the realisations from the two of them if he just talks loud enough. "you shall make a full recovery. apollo is an excellent healer- he is my son, of course." 

"yes." poseidon says, dropping his hand. zeus can’t help but feel as if he’s lost something. "but I will not let that mortal wipe me off this earth." he says, with a bite of malice in his words that suggest he’s being a little more truthful than he probably should be. "I will not give him the satisfaction." he looks at zeus. "just as I did not give our grandfather the satisfaction. I have dealt with worse."

"must you-" zeus starts with the intention of criticising his brother, when his voice fails him as it has never done before. "must you say that?"

poseidon gives a little smile. "brother, it has been millennia. you cannot fault me-"

"you did not have to watch." zeus hates this—the way his voice betrays him, the sympathy in poseidon's eyes, the memories his injuries bring to the surface of his mind. hating it does not make it disappear, no matter how much he wished it would. "both times- I had to watch. I cannot- I will not let you leave once again."

poseidon raises his hand, and this time zeus does not hesitate in taking it, desperately trying to convince himself it is for poseidon's comfort, rather than his own. "I have no intentions of leaving. you are king of the gods."

"in which case, I order you to remain." zeus says, and he feels just as he did all those years ago—playing make believe with his brother, imagining what life would be like if they were on top. "you cannot disobey a royal order."

"I would not dare." poseidon says in that mock solemn voice zeus remembers all too well. he finds that his throat is suddenly tight at the memory. "the all-powerful zeus could strike me down if he so wish-"

zeus decides not to remember what he does next. he does not recall how he ended up with his arms around his brother, nor does he recall blaming the dampness on his face on poseidon's hair. he most certainly has no memory of the way poseidon's embrace felt so painfully similar to how it used to, and it'd be impossible to say if his brother muttered comforting words into zeus' hair as he once did. 

poseidon remembers, though. the gentleness that was so clearly out of zeus' nature as he did his best to avoid upsetting his tender wounds, the familiarity of his brother in arms mixed with how bizarre it felt to be equal in size after centuries of memories of his baby brother. he remembers feeling silently grateful for zeus' sobs masking his own, for odysseus—somehow—landing them both in this situation, and he certainly will not forget the whispered 'I think I missed this,' for a thousand lifetimes. 

[starlightfragment]

: ̗̀➛ Straight to the point.

In which he's still human.

Summary: Everyone has something in the back of their mind, something that terrifies them to the core, something that keeps them up at night. Sebastian is no different. Luckily for him, he already has someone to hold him and reassure him.

Notes: Established Relationships, Reader is gender neutral, Sebastian's Backstory Spoilers (not really),He is not a fish yet, wrote this at 4 am, unhealthy amount of fluff, idk what im doing, Sebastian is a menace, this is a literal word vomit. Enjoy ..!

The squeaky creak of the wooden bed and the slight shifting next to you jolts you awake, eyes opening to cautiously wander around the room in search of anything, or anyone. You almost close your eyes and go back to sleep at the reassurance that nothing was there, before the sound of the hitched breathing next to you forces you to open your eyes again. You turn to your side, arms subconsciously reaching out for the one laying right next to you. To your surprise, you find him awake already, his softened gaze seemingly on anything but you. You can't see too well in the darkness, but one look at his troubled expression is enough for you to know whats going on. You reach out your hand, slowly placing it on top of his as to not startle him. The moment he registers the slightest touch of your hand against him, his eyes move back on yours. He furrows his eyebrows, huffing slightly.

"...Did I wake you?" He asks, his voice coming off as nothing more than a mere whisper. For the time that you've known Sebastian, you've come to realize that he is never one to outright trouble anyone with his struggles, that includes you. If you want to know anything, you have to fish it out of him. And so you do. You gently squeeze his hand in a comforting manner. "Not really." You respond quietly, inching a bit closer to take a better look at him. "Can't sleep?" You whisper, the close proximity and the way you feel his cold breath sending a slight shiver down your spine. He stays silent, averting his eyes from you. Now, you know all too well what's bothering him.

Your lover has a tendency to often deprive himself of sleep, that resulting in him staying up and contemplating each and every fear he has ever grown to have until he's sure he has suffered himself enough. This, of course, pains you to see. You're well aware you can't undo past traumas, or.. what is yet to come, for that matter. So, for now, you settle for comforting him. You let go of his hand and lean in, arms wrapping around him as you pull him closer. He tenses slightly, before giving in to your touch. As you run your fingers through his hair, he quietly exhales and buries his face into your neck, a hand finding it's way to your waist. He moves his fingers up and down, tracing random shapes on your skin rather anxiously. You're both silent. You, lost in idea of him and him, lost in the idea of losing you. He slightly tenses up again, his hold on you tightening a bit and a hitched breath escaping him. You can tell he has his own thoughts that he runs away from, his fears that keep him up at night and nightmares that he fears for his life. He clutches onto your shirt, the idea of him ever losing you, losing this, losing everything leaves him shivering like he is now. You slowly start to feel something wet against your skin, his tears staining your shirt as he holds onto you for dear life. Needless to say, you're overwhelmed too.

The Sebastian you've learned to love is constantly hiding behind an act of nonchalance and sarcasm, and only now you realize how vulnerable he really is behind all of that. You can only hold him, listen to the sound of his muffled yet soundless sobs against you and whisper sweet nothings. "I'm not going anywhere." You tell him, fingers combing through his hair as your other hand slowly moves up and down on his back, in an attempt to comfort him. He hides his face into your neck even more, in an attempt to muffle his last sobs. Your tender touches, your oh so sweet promises that you'd never leave and your mere presence soothe him like he needs. You're both silent for a bit, neither of you daring to disturb the comfortable silence. He eventually leans back, slightly wet blue-ish green eyes staring into your eyes.

You can tell he is mildly embarrassed, all his attempts at keeping you from witnessing such vulnerable side of him now all wasted and for nothing. And so, he does what he always does. He moves his hands to his face, covering his face with both hands as his shoulder's slightly shake again, because of laughter, this time. The sound of his chuckles disturbs the nights silence. You'd be confused, had it not been for the fact that you're all too familiar with how he tries to laugh his way out of any awkward situation. He finally moves his hands away, his eyes still slightly wet. "You're... such an idiot for dealing with my bullshit. Honestly.." He says, letting out a bitter chuckle. You smile, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb gently carressing his face. "I am.. your idiot, afterall." You whisper, your finger moving to gently wipe away one last tear on his face. He only gazes at you, a gaze that holds the countless words he's been meaning to say. You move your finger, slowly tracing his features, and it moves to the scar in the middle of the face.

The way your finger tenderly brushes against his skin.. He sighs, his hand moving to catch your wrist and guide it out of his face, though he never lets go. He leans in, back to where he was sobbing not too long ago. He pulls you closer, a hand resting on your hip. He nuzzles comfortably into your shoulder, and this time, he presses a slight, delicate kiss on your skin. "I... love you, idiot." He mutters, quietly enough for only you to hear, and no one else. You're the last thing on his mind before he finally passes out, safe and sound in your embrace.

[scroofy-was-here]

HEAR ME OUT TEASER OR TRAILER OR ANYTHING ON MAY THE FOURTH FOR STAR WARS DAY GUYS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GIVE ME THE TRAILER I NEEED IT!!!!!! I NEED TO SEE MY NERDS!!!!! MY BOYS!!!!