#They're so interesting~!! They make me wanna watch the series again

[bumblingbabooshka]

Shapey Puppington

Obsessed with his mother and always defers to her despite his seemingly strong and stubborn personality, unconsciously makes messes even though he purports to need things tidy, talks a lot and very loudly in a way where it's hard to engage with him (talking 'at' not 'with' you), reveals very little of his own personality and seems to more parrot things others say, doesn't ever want children because his wife would be "distracted" by them, hates alcohol but is almost always drinking milk, hates his father (or says he does), struggles with his faith but pretends to be devoutly religious, still throws tantrums which his wife cleans up as he's throwing them so it's like nothing happened, calls his wife 'mine' as in "me and mine" or "mine's the same way" to the point where it's unclear if that's her name or not, doesn't recognize her as looking exactly like Bloberta, had a bad relationship with Orel as a teenager but they're better now, protective over Block who he calls his little brother, always frowning and usually complaining, holds his wife's wrist or grabs at her dress when he isn't looking at her so she stays nearby, struggles with feelings of inadequacy and loneliness that he doesn't know how to remedy.

'You used to be such a happy kid.'

[Patreon | Commissions]

[gu6chan]

99% just my autism speaking here but something ive been noticing lately that im sorta kinda 😶 about is when ppl are like "I think you'll like this" but not bc they ACTUALLY think you'll like it, rather they just got into it and want you to also get into it so "I think you'll like this" is a nice personal hook. i love chill stuff as much as any other person ofc but given i don't divulge that EVER, what makes you think my berserk reading, made in abyss watching, drakengard playing ass would like YURU CAMP????

[faithlia]

⋆｡˚Jᥙᥒ᥆ ୧˚｡⋆

✰ english ins't my first language

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, kind of friends to lovers.

a/n: this was a request for a sequel to something about you, however, this story doesn't tell much about what happened in its premise, although it has the same characters and their respective interests. also I'm so sorry for the delay, I've been very busy lately, but I hope you like it 💓

"you make me wanna falling in love" - sabrina carpenter.

I don't know how to react to this or how to talk about it. After a series of meaningless flirtations and arousal-ridden insistence, I have Matt sitting on my living room floor, pretending he knows how to put the puzzle together properly. It's what? Eleven o'clock at night? Maybe he won't be leaving anytime soon.

I'm intrigued and anxious about what might happen if he comes over to my place. He wants to fuck me, and I know it; I have no objections to it, just thoughts of endless possibilities. I mean, I can't help myself, hormones are high.

When we arrive, I thought he was going to grab me and I would forget everything to focus on the moment, but that's not what happened.

I grab two glasses of wine, taking them to him in short steps.

"Thanks", he says as he reaches for the drink. I sit a little closer to him, but on the couch, watching him sort the pieces out to line them up in their proper place.

“How long have you been putting this together?” he asks, pointing with his finger.

“I don’t know. I think it’s been about two days,” I say. I really don’t know where I got the patience to put together a puzzle with a thousand tiny pieces, but the idea seems brilliant. “It helps me relax,” I sigh. I drink some more wine and then find myself staring at the empty glass – like a professional drunk.

Seriously? You relax with that?" He downs the rest of his wine, looking at me with slanted eyes.

"Of course I do," I say, smiling like an idiot. It seems that half a glass of wine is enough for me to feel comfortable with each leg on either side of his body. He doesn't mind; in fact, he even drops his head back - right into my lap.

"I can't imagine you relaxing; You're always so anxious about everything." He looks at me with such serene eyes that I have to make sure that it's not a figment of my imagination and that his eyes and expression aren't the most attractive thing I've ever seen.

"I think I'm pretty relaxed now." It's not entirely a lie, but part of me feels like my heart is almost in my mouth. I bite my lip and dare to run my hands through his messy hair; it's soft, but at the same time it looks like he hasn't washed it. I don't think he's the kind of guy who spends time worrying about what products to put in his hair. It makes me want to wash his hair like he's a doll, which is kind of weird.

"Okay," he says. He sighs and closes his eyes, feeling very comfortable, and I like that. Little by little, a feeling settles in my chest, and I don't think so much about what might happen. Of course, yes, I really want to kiss him, because his mouth is so attractive, and everything about him makes me surrender to a simple touch or a bold tilt.

Without thinking, I start to trace his face with the tip of my finger, delicately. He doesn't open his eyes and this allows me to be more evasive, pinching the tip of his nose lightly.

"Wow" I say, laughing.

"What is it?", he asks, still with his eyes closed, settling his head more into my lap.

"It's just... Have you noticed that your nose is really big?", I think I'm drunk because this is the first time I've said something about his appearance. It's not an insult, but rather something that has always strangely attracted me to him.

Contrary to what I thought, Matt laughed.

"Fuck you", he says. I lean a little closer to his face and say, "I like it. I find it quite... useful." I smack my lips and Matt opens his eyes. Damn, again those damn eyes so beautiful they look like they're going to eat me alive.

Now everything seems sneaky. He whispers to me, "Really?", knowing exactly what I mean. And before I can say anything else, he pulls my head down and kisses me. It's a sloppy kiss, but neither of us cares. He caresses the back of my neck and lifts his body up to take my lips. The feeling of his mouth on mine is delicious. I feel like I'm Spider-Man wearing pink panties

Matt lets out a moan and it drives me crazy. I pull away from him from the discomfort of being so bent over.

"That was our first kiss", I point out.

"Yeah" he nods, turning to face me — still between my legs. "Was it good?" he asks, so relaxed that it makes me comfortable with what we just did.

I lick my lips and say "Yeah" too, but the sound is more like a moan.

"Do you want to do it again?" he raises his eyebrows suggestively.

"I do!", and that's absolutely true. "But I know where this is going," I think out loud. For some reason, I'm not reluctant to tell him what I'm thinking. Maybe the nervousness went away when I started drinking, and that's fine with me. I like to tell him what I think and I don't think he minds. I think he likes being teased by my words – especially since I like it when he does it to me.

"What? Sex?", he gives me a wicked smile. And looks directly at my breasts.

"Yes!", I lean back on the couch, feeling the softness of the upholstery. "And what's the problem, I thought you wanted it", he looks at me like a puppy. I move my hand to stroke his hair again.

"I don't know. Won't it be weird?" I ask, thinking about an idea that has crossed my mind many times.

"Why would it be weird?" he asks back and now we're playing this little game that I kind of like. I shrug and he's quiet for a while. "We don't have to have sex if you don't want to", he says, lowering his gaze to between my legs.

"Okay",I say it like I'm not dying to have him. I think he wants to eat me out and I wouldn't deny it, I'd just be annoying enough to make him tired of trying. "Are you upset?" I ask.

"This isn't the first time you've said no to me," I smile at that and he drags his hand up my thigh. "I want to wash your hair," I say and he rolls his eyes. "What? I really want to!"

"Do you want to give me a bath too?" I do, but I don't need to say it.

"Well, if it's to wash your hair..." I won't say it directly.

He shakes his head and sighs heavily, thinking about what to say, but before I do I reconsider. "But actually, I think it's better not to! I don't want you to get excited in the middle of everything," for a moment I regret what I said.

"Juno", he bites his lip, calling me.

"Hm?" I look at his mouth; it looks so soft.

"I've been hard for about two minutes now," I open and close my mouth, looking at the considerably large bulge in his pants. I don't know what to say. "Oh my God. I managed to shut your fucking mouth. Awesome!" he says as if it's the best thing in the world, but I don't take offense; he's said worse to me. With a little difficulty, he stands up and stretches his entire body with his back to me. I'm a little intimidated about what he's going to do; however, he sits down next to me and, at the same time, grabs a pillow to cover his "problem".

He doesn't say anything and I shift to get closer to him. Now, from how much I've played with his hair, he's slightly disheveled. "How are you going to fix this?" I ask, knowing he's going to give me an expected answer.

"Do you want to fix it for me?" Before I can answer, he kisses me, and this time with tongue, and it's so automatic that I gasp. He grabs my ass and squeezes the flesh hungrily. I moan into his mouth and he pulls me to sit on his lap – and I realize he's quickly removed the pillow, feeling the openness of the bulge. I'm not going to lie or be hypocrite; I've been wet for a while now. When he forces me against his cock, I feel my pussy throb – it feels so fucking good.

"Matt", I hold his face with both hands, almost crying. "I don't know if we should have sex now", I say, separating myself from his mouth and feeling a delicious longing as I move over his intimacy.

The truth is that, although I would like to have his mouth all over my body and his cock inside me, I'm insecure about everything. This concern invades my head when the realization that it's Matt who's there watching me moan like a whore on his lap. The fact that he's already seen my breasts weighs this stigma even more.

"Okay! I know you haven't had sex with guys in a while", it's true, but wait.

"How do you know that?", I frown.

"Because you tell me everything, idiot", he seals our lips quickly. Matt lowers his mouth to my neck, saying: "But at least let me eat you out or just suck your tits, or just watch you touch yourself; I would love that." He thrusts his hips against me, catching me off guard, making me gasp loudly with my mouth open.

I take a deep breath and gather the courage to tell him: "I want to, I really do! I'm just a little insecure..." I look down, trying not to rub myself against him. "I shouldn't, because you're so hot! And you know that's true." He lifts my chin with his hand and bites my neck, biting until he reaches my cleavage, sticking his face in there. "And, fuck, I've seen those tits, and they're even more beautiful up close." He squeezes my breasts with his big hands, intensifying a delicious sensation in my lower abdomen. "Do you want me to tell you about your pussy that's wetting my pants, too?" Matt looks at me, his eyes shining. It was true, I'm making a terrible mess.

Fuck.

"Do you still want to wash my hair?" Matt asks, with his naughtiest smile. I nod and he lifts me easily onto his lap and heads to the bathroom.

He's quick to take off my clothes and he's also quick to make me go crazy. He pushes me against the shower wall and kneels down to eat my pussy. I like the way he knows how to eat me and how grotesque he is in the sense of making a mess on his own face just to devour me. When he runs the tip of his nose over my clit and almost shoves his face inside me, he says in a very slurred voice: "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" and he takes saliva on the tip of his tongue to join my lubricated clit and satisfy me a little more. And, when I squirt on his face from the accumulated stimulation, he opens his mouth with his tongue out, swallowing everything, panting: "You're delicious, babe".

Matt is the kind of guy who likes to fuck dirty and knows how to be thirsty for it.

I swore every moment that he wouldn't fuck me tonight, but after cumming in his mouth and knowing how naughty he is, the urge got worse and he fucked me the way he wanted, moaning loudly that I take him well, that he would cum inside me and he didn't care at all and he did; I like how he keeps his words.

And you can bet that I really like the fact that he takes me to bed, still wet, and makes me sit on his sensitive cock with my back to him, murmuring how hot I am and pinching my nipples between his fingers. I don't bother to scream when he hits my sensitive spot. I love the way he starts to feel overwhelmed and whimpers in my ear; I aggravate my movements and grip the back of his neck tightly just to hear him closer. He cums inside me once more, both of us letting out moans from the sensitivity caused in our bodies. He masturbates my clit and I release myself too, rolling my eyes in pleasure.

The last thing I remember is being in his arms, and after that, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, I feel unimaginably tired. Matt's eyes are open, sleepy; he says, "Good morning," and for me, talking at that moment is not an option. He kisses my forehead and smiles, touching my cheek, being so gentle.

"We weren't supposed to do this," I say, my voice unrecognizable. He presses his lips together and smacks, murmuring, "I know!" I sigh, stretching. "Do you want to do it again?" he asks.

Well.

No need to ask!

I must say that Matt and I fucked hard all day, in every possible position. And a few times, he asked me which ones I had tried; he was surprised by some of them.

He kissed me tenderly at each end, assuring me that it was very good. And surprisingly, after cumming on his cock so many times like a slut, I actually washed his hair when we showered – leaving it nice and wavy.

We finished putting the puzzle together – even though we argued a lot about where the pieces should go. He also felt motivated enough to tell me that he likes me since I started to feel comfortable insulting him, but that he finds me annoying and sometimes insufferable. I told him he was an idiot and teased him: “Does this turn you on, Matt?”

“Oh my god. I’m so fucking horny.” He laughs and kisses me and I know for sure that I want his touch for the rest of my life.

The End

a/n: Yeah, I know. It doesn't have much to do with the song, but if you're really fucking horny, I wouldn't hesitate to make a one-shot with all the positions that Juno and Matt did before putting together puzzles, and, who knows, after that too.

[starlost-maniac]

I Slept with My Boss - Ch 3

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, pia, protected sex, one night stand, mxf, mxm, multiple orgasms, multiple partners, club/drinks, voyeurism, pet names, daddy kink, double pen, oral, public sex (no witnesses), user is called a slut this chapter, slight asphyxiation, squirting, Mean SeungIN

Pairing: ot8 SKZ x fem!reader

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

It was the weekend, and Yoonae wanted to take you out again. You allowed her to take you to a new club that did karaoke, but you told her that you would listen. Not participate. She complained playfully but agreed.

You didn't drink any alcohol tonight, opting for just juice. Yoonae drank plenty and sang a few songs between other patrons or with other patrons. When she finally made her way back to you, she probably sang about 10 songs already. The patrons loved her.

"Are you sure you don't wanna sing, Y/n?" She asked, sitting next to you. You smile and shake your head.

"I'm sure, Yoonae. I'm not much of a singer." You watch the stage as two men walk up, selecting a song. Yoonae watches as well, grinning.

"They're cute. Maybe I can get them for you." She giggles.

"What is with you and getting me two guys at once?" You laugh. You didn't really mind it, but you were curious. She just shrugs.

"Two is better than one?" She looks at you, wiggling her eyebrows again. You can't help but laugh. The duo on stage sing a few songs, and Yoonae goes to them once they're done and off the stage to see if they'd be interested in a hook up with you. You don't know how she manages to get these guys to agree when you normally have such trouble getting a guy's attention.

She walks back over to you, grin on her face. She sits down next to you. You watch her and raise a brow at her.

"They own the club and saw us walk in. They are definitely interested in you, Y/n." You stare at her, shocked that the club owners were interested. "They said to go to the VIP section in an hour, and the bouncer will let you in." She winks at you.

"I think I may actually need a drink now." You laugh a little. Your friend questions if you really wanted one and buys it when you say yeah. You end up downing it quickly, finishing the rest of your juice as well before heading to the VIP area. The bouncer looks you over and raises a brow. He refuses to let you in.

"You're not on the list." He crosses his arms.

"I was told the owners wanted me to come here in an hour." Your voice was getting quiet.

"Right. And I'm King Henry the 4th." He rolls his eyes. Just as you turned around, you saw both the men who said they were the owners coming up.

"Frank. Let her in. She's our special guest for the night." The one with black and blonde hair said. The bouncer straightens up and nods, apologizing. He steps out of the way, opening the rope barrier for all three of you. The two owners smile and lead you inside.

The first part of the VIP section is just like the regular bar, but with exclusive access. The second part is private rooms downstairs and upstairs. They lead you to a booth downstairs and have you sit, sitting on either side of you.

"So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing here?" The owner with short black hair asks, looking you over.

"Honestly, my friend is taking me out. Trying to help me get over someone." You say, a bit nervous.

"I think we can definitely help with that." The black and white-haired one says. "As long as you're ok with it, obviously." You look the two owners over. They give off fox and puppy vibes.

"I am. My friend wouldn't have come to you if I wasn't." You laugh a bit.

"Good. Color system, because we will get a bit mean. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's ok. I'm green." Both the men grin. The one with fox-like features grabs one of your hands, his other hand wrapping around your waist. He pulls you into his lap, making you straddle his lap, your dress riding up. He smirks when you squeak, seeing your cheeks flush.

"You are really beautiful, by the way." He snakes his large hands around you, placing his hands on your ass, squeezing. You squeak out a thank you, which makes them both laugh. The one that reminds you of a puppy moves closer, reaching up between you. He gently grabs your breast, feeling your nipple harden through the fabric.

"No bra?" He chuckles, pinching your nipple through the fabric, making you gasp softly. "I wonder what other delicious sounds you can make. I.N, since you have her in your lap, go ahead and see what sounds you can pull from her." He smirks, leaning back against the seat.

I.N smirks and reaches up, pulling the top of your dress down, uncovering your breasts. Leaning down, he bites your nipple before harshly sucking on it. You wince a bit at hard he bit you, but moan right after. Your hands snake up to his hair as his goes back to your hips. He pulls your hips down, making you grind against him, his cock hard in his pants.

I.N groans against your nipple as you moan a little loud, your head lolling back some. Holding onto him, you grind against him slowly, letting out breathy moans. The fox-like boy releases your now tender nipple.

"She makes beautiful noises, Seungmin-hyung." He mumbles before moving to your other nipple, repeating the actions. Seungmin chuckles beside him.

"Such pretty sounds." He mumbles, palming himself through his slacks. I.N releases your hips, reaching between you to undo his pants, quickly pulling his cock out. He releases your nipple with a pop and looks up at you, grinning when he sees how flushed you are. He takes one of your hands and moves it to his leaking dick. You grasp him and slowly start stroking. His lips part slightly, a soft moan coming from his lips.

"Feels so good.." he mumbles. He pulls a condom out of his pocket, watching as you stroke him faster, teasing his tip with your thumb. He grunts as his hips buck into your hand. He opens the condom and takes your hand off him, slipping the rubber on. He grabs your hip with one hand, the other slips between your legs, pulling your panties to the side. He pulls your hips closer to him, pushing you down onto his length, hard. You moan out and arch your back some.

"Mm..fuck. You're so tight." He groans out, pushing you down completely onto him. Seungmin watches from his seat next to you. I.N leans forward and bites the crook of your neck, groaning against your skin.

"What's your color, sweetheart?" Seungmin asks, still palming himself.

"Green." You gasp out. "So fucking green.."

Seungmin smirks. "Hear that Innie. She's still green." Jeongin grips your hips with both hands, still biting onto you. He helps you move your hips, releasing your neck before placing kisses along where he bit. You grind your hips into his, moaning out. You feel him deep inside you, his tip pressing against your cervix. He sits back in his seat, watching as you move your hips in a circle.

As you start to bounce on him, he reaches up and grabs onto your breasts, squeezing them and pinching your nipples. You moan loudly, your cheeks flushing when you remember you're in public. Both men chuckle.

"Be as loud as you want. Remember we own this club, and you're our special guest for the night." Seungmin says. Your cheeks flush a bit more and you nod slightly. I.N thrusts up into you before pulling you off him. He maneuvers you so you're turned around on him, your back against his chest now. He slips his cock back into you and groans. One hand creeps around your neck, squeezing.

"Color, darling?" I.N asks. You squeak out a 'green' and moan again. His other hand lays on your stomach as he thrusts up into you hard. He bites onto the other side of your neck, leaving more bite marks across your neck and shoulders as well as sucking large hickeys on you. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder as Seungmin reaches over to slip his hand into your panties.

"Sorry, Innie. I need to touch her." He says, fingers finding your clit, slowly circling the nub. You try to arch your back, I.N holding you down against him. He releases your neck slightly so you can breathe, his thrusts getting harder as Seungmin rubs your clit faster. The fox-like boy groans when he feels you clench around him.

"Gonna be a good little slut and cum for us, hmm?" He squeezes your neck again, grinding up into you, making you moan loudly. You arch again as much as you're able to, cumming hard around him. I.N groans as he continues fucking you through your high before he cums inside the condom, his cock twitching as he cums. Seungmin takes his hand out of your panties, smirking. I.N releases your neck and turns your head to face him. He kisses you deeply and groans into your mouth when you clench around him again.

"Color?" He mumbles, kissing across your cheek to nibble on your earlobe.

"Green." You gasp out. The boys chuckle. I.N lifts you off him, Seungmin puts you into his lap next. You feel his cock against your ass. When did he take himself out? Jeongin takes his condom off and ties it off as Seungmin has you bending forward on the table. He puts his own condom on and pushes himself into you harshly. Seungmin grabs one of your hands and holds it against your back, making sure he isn't hurting you before he bucks his hips up to yours.

"Such a little slut. Letting us fuck you like this, where anyone can see you." He grinds into you. I.N chuckles and reaches over, grabbing your ass as Seungmin fucks into you hard. He moves so he's half kneeling on the booth chair, fucking into you deeper. I.N smacks your ass, your cunt clenching around Seungmin hard. "Mm. She's likes that, Innie." He lets go of your arm and grabs onto the back of your neck, keeping you down on the table.

"Does she now?" The black and white-haired boy grins, smacking your ass again. You gasp and moan, clenching around his friend again. Seungmin groans and leans down, placing kisses along your back. He leaves hickies of varying sizes. He sits up and smirks, happy with himself. Reaching around you, he finds your clit again and circles the sensitive nub. I.N slips his fingers down to your other hole, immediately slipping two long fingers inside. You arch your back and let out a grumbling moan.

"Such a good fucking slut." He snaps his hips into you hard, his cock head pushing hard into your cervix. You gasp and moan, tears starting to drip from your eyes. "Color, sweetheart?" They ask.

"Don't..don't stop. Gr-green..so so fucking green." They both chuckle, I.N slipping a third finger into your ass as Seungmin fucks as hard and fast as he can. He rubs your clit harshly as he groans.

"Fucking cum, slut. I want to feel you cum so fucking hard around me." Seungmin just about growls at you, gripping your neck a little harder but not hard enough to leave marks. You feel your eyes roll back, moaning loud as drool dribbles out of your mouth. I.N finger fucks your ass as fast and hard as he can, Seungmin grinding hard into you, the sound of his hips against yours almost audible over the club music beyond the VIP area. You arch your back some, palms flat on the table as you cum hard. You clench around both men, your body shuddering at how hard you came.

"Fucking hell, hyung." Jeongin says, laughing in excitement. "I've never seen a girl cum this hard before." He continues his ministrations in your ass as Seungmin keeps fucking into your sopping cunt.

"She squirted too, Innie." Seungmin chuckles. "I felt it. We are taking her upstairs after this." He grins. He grunts loud as he thrusts into you once more, cumming into the condom. He releases your neck and holds your hips. Leaning down, he places soft kisses along your back, trapping I.N's hand between your bodies.

"You ok, darling?" I.N asks, leaning over to look at you. You nod a little, a soft 'yeah' slipping from you. Seungmin stands up straight, carefully pulling you up with him as I.N slips his fingers out of you. Seungmin sits down, still inside you, pulling you into his lap. The boys look at you and chuckle. "You look absolutely fucked out. Let's get you upstairs and get you some water."

They fixed your dress and panties, discarding their condoms in a bin on the way upstairs. Bringing you to the third floor—surprised your legs still worked after that fucking—they brought you to a room that read 'Authorized Personal Only.'

"First time we get to use this room with a patron and not with the others." Seungmin chuckles.

"Don't tell Jinnie. He'll get so jealous he didn't get to watch." I.N laughs, shutting the door behind you. It looked more homey than usual VIP rooms do. Seungmin leads you to the bed on the other side of the room as I.N went to get you some water and something quick to eat. Once they were sure you were sated, they asked your color again. Once hearing green, I.N had his lips on yours, quickly taking your dress and panties off. Seungmin grins beside you, getting a proper look at your body.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He whispers out, reaching over to pinch your hard nipples, making you moan into I.N's mouth. "Be as loud as you want here. No one will be able to hear." He leans over, kissing and sucking on your neck, groping your breasts. "Innie.." I.N let's out a sound so Seungmin knows he's listening, moving to kiss your lips. "I need to fuck her mouth." I.N pulls away, gently pulling your lower lip with his teeth, a mischievous grin splayed across his lips.

Seungmin picks you up and tosses you onto your back, crawling over you, his face between your legs, cock hanging over your lips. You lift your head and take the tip into your mouth. You moan as he licks between your folds. He lowers his hips a bit, slipping a bit more of his cock between your lips before he starts fucking into your mouth.

I.N kneels on the edge of the bed, slipping a condom onto his cock. "Watch your head, hyung." He spreads your legs and positions himself at your ass. Seungmin shifts a bit, putting his head in a better position so his friend can fuck you while he eats you out. Seungmin groans against your cunt as he watches I.N's long dick penetrate your ass. He carefully slides his own dick down your throat. You moan around Seungmin as he shoves his tongue deep into your entrance.

"How's she taste, hyung?" I.N bottoms out inside your ass.

"So fucking good. Probably the best pussy I've had in a long time." He sucks on your clit, inserting three fingers immediately inside you, making you arch and clench around them. I.N holds onto the back of your knees, keeping your legs spread wide for them as he starts fucking into you slow and hard. You hold onto Seungmin's sides, nails digging into his skin as you suck hard on his cock, hollowing your cheeks. Seungmin grunts when you accidentally scratch him and I.N chuckles.

"I can not wait to fucking taste her." I.N grins, grunting as he fucks into to your ass hard and fast. Seungmin curls his fingers inside you, making you arch your back and scratch him again as you suck on and moan around his cock. You clench hard around the men as your orgasm crashes over you quickly. Neither of them let up until Seungmin cums down your throat and I.N cums into the condom. They both pull out of you, Seungmin licking up your release from your cunt and his fingers before they switch spots. Seungmin's wrapped cock now at your ass, and I.N hovering over you, his cock at your lips and his head at your cunt.

They fuck you and eat you out like this until you're all cumming again. You are amazed at how much stamina they both have. They give you a little bit to catch your breath, helping you drink some water.

"Still green?" Seungmin asks, laying next to you now, your head on his chest. He was playing with your nipple absentmindedly. I.N laid on your other side, rubbing your clit slowly, scrolling on his phone. He wasn't really paying attention to his phone, instead listening to the soft whimpers that you made at the over stimulation. You nod at Seungmin's question, breathing hard. You feel his chest rumble with a quiet laugh. "Think you have at least one more in you? I wanna fuck you with Innie." You nod again.

"I think I can do one more." You let out a breathy laugh. Both boys chuckle. Getting up, they both grab a new condom, putting it on their still hard lengths. I.N picks you up, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he easily slides into your sensitive entrance. You let out a shuddery moan and lean your head on his shoulder. Seungmin steps up behind you, prodding your ass with his tip, carefully sliding into you. I.N holds onto your ass as Seungmin holds onto your thighs. They carefully lift you and drop you onto their cocks, pulling deep moans out of you. You felt extremely full with them both inside you.

"Look at this little slut, hyung. She's taking both our cocks so well." I.N says, looking at his friend over your head. Seungmin smirks as he thrusts up hard into you. "You like having our cocks stuff you full, slut?" He asks you, gripping your thighs.

"Y-yeesss…" you moan loudly, your nails digging into I.N's back. Leaving scratches up to his shoulders, you arch into him as you clench around them both as you cum.

"Such a good fucking slut, arent you?" Seungmin whispers in your ear. "Our little slut." He chuckles, fucking you faster. They cum nearly at the same time together. Seungmin slips out of you, going to the bathroom to discard his condom and to get a clean rag to clean you up with. Laying you on the bed as Seungmin steps to the bathroom, I.N slips out of you and helps you drink some more water. Seungmin comes back out and switches with I.N so his friend can go get clean. Seungmin cleans you gently, placing a few soft kisses to your lips.

"How you doing, hm?" He asks softly. "We weren't too rough on you?" He sets the empty bottle on the floor by the bed. You shake your head.

"Mm-mm. I enjoyed it." You smile before yawning. I.N comes out and lays on your other side, draping his arm over your stomach.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself tonight. Now get some rest." He kisses you a few times before all three of you settle down for the night.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

Taglist:

@honeyybbuubblleess @gnabnahcbby @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 @kenia4 @sweetprincessleah

[traumxrei-archive]

【 iv. the taste of flowers 】

summary: yuu was sick. okay, so maybe they overworked themself a little while preparing for the debutante, but that didn’t mean they needed to be on bed arrest ! what’s the worst that could happen if they snuck into the kitchen for a snack anyway ?

word count: 1.4k

author’s note: every time i write ruggie i’m like “wow i love this guy sm” and it was the same this time. i hope you like my rendition of him, ruggie likers ^^

[ the perfect debutante series | or read on ao3 (coming soon) ]

Being sick was most definitely not on Yuu's list of things to do for the Debutante. But they were. Sick. It seemed that they had over-exhausted themself after shopping all day with Floyd.

They vaguely remembered Floyd's guilty expression as he brought tea to their bedside. They had told him not to worry, but he seemed to be in low spirits for the rest of the day, according to Azul's report.

And now, well...

Yuu was sneaking into the kitchen.

After being cooped up in the room for so long, they needed some alone time. Alone time that didn't entail Riddle watching their every move like a hawk, or Silver insisting on doing everything for them. Their maids were diligent to a fault really, and Yuu was starting to feel a bit suffocated.

What they weren't expecting was that there would be someone in the kitchen. They stood behind the door. There was a soft humming and the smell of something that had their mouth-watering. Yuu cracked the door open a little. Through the gap, they spotted a pair of fluffy ears.

Ah. So it was Ruggie in the kitchen. Yuu calmed down a bit. The chance that they would be severely scolded for escaping the room had decreased. Still, they knew that someone would check their room soon, and they would get caught, so...

"Master?"

Holy crap. Their soul felt like it almost left their body.

They looked up to see Ruggie tilting his head, "I thought I heard someone, but I didn't expect it to be you, Master."

They got up from their crouched position, "Hi, uh... What are you cooking?"

"A little something for myself," Ruggie suddenly smirked, folding his arms. "What are you doing out of your room, Master? Riddle and Azul are going to freak out if they figure out you're gone."

Yuu stared at Ruggie with what they hoped was a pitiful look, "Please, I need 30 minutes of peace before they coddle me to death again."

"It's because they're worried about you. We all are," Ruggie said, going back to stirring the pot. "But I'm no snitch, shishishi~ Have a seat." There was a stool a little away from the stove, and from this close, they could finally see what Ruggie was cooking. It was...soup. A hearty-looking, vegetable soup, that was currently appealing to them with its scent.

"Are you here for some tea? Or are you hungry?" Ruggie sprinkled some more spices into his soup. "I could make you some soup?"

"What about that soup?" They blurted out. Dammit, they were trying to resist, and yet...

"This soup? It isn't worthy of Master's palette," Ruggie said before putting a lid on the small pot. "Plus, are you sure you wanna eat that?"

"What is it then?" The soup had looked normal enough to them, though they couldn't be sure. Ruggie was famed for using unconventional ingredients in his cooking before. They had heard many stories from Jamil, who found his experimentation interesting enough to talk about. (The other maid rarely talked too extensively, so Yuu had noted it in their mind when he did.)

"Erm," Ruggie's ears twitched, and he looked...almost bashful. "I used dandelions. I saw a few in the gardens and they needed to be weeded out anyway."

"Dandelions?" They cracked a smile. "So you can even cook with flowers?"

"You're not...?" Ruggie shook his head, before leaning his head back into his hands. "It's something my Bi— my grandmother taught me. There are many uses for dandelions, and she used to cook it for us in a soup."

Yuu understood it now. It had been a while since Ruggie had taken a break to go home. He tended to bulldoze through leave days that they set up by taking up other jobs. They ended up having him be their designated maid when the others went on leave. Ruggie was pleased with the setup, especially after they doubled his pay.

Money wasn't a worry to them, given that they were the heir of the Dukedom. But it had once been, back before Duke Crowley had adopted them. So they understood Ruggie's determination, especially with how fiercely he loved his family.

"Why don't you eat some?" Yuu leaned their face into their palm. "You spent all that time cooking it after all."

Ruggie's expression turned complicated for a moment. He hesitantly grabbed a bowl, ladling in a spoonful. His ears drooped for a moment before straightening. Yuu couldn't help but find the subconscious action adorable. 

He finally sighed, sliding the bowl in front of them, "Here. Your puppy eyes really are unfair, Master."

"Puppy eyes?" They mumbled, but they couldn't focus on anything other than the soup that was in front of them. Ruggie pushed a spoon into their hands, and they couldn't help but immediately try it.

"Well?" Ruggie asked, ladling his own bowl. It was...amazing. The soup was salty, but rich, and all the vegetables were perfectly cooked— not too soft with a nice crunch.

And that was when Yuu abandoned two things: their etiquette training and their pride. It didn't matter that it was hot, they kept shoveling spoonfuls of soup into their mouth.

Ruggie laughed as he ate his own bowl, "Slow down there, Master. If the chefs see you they'll throw a tantrum because you're guzzling that down so fast."

"But," They sputtered, gesturing at their half finished bowl. "It's so good! I can't even tell which part the dandelion is!"

"The green leafy bits," Ruggie looked proud, if the way his grin kept growing was any indication. "I save the flowers to make tea with." The maid spun around, turning to a cupboard and grabbing what looked like a jar. In it were many dried dandelion buds. "Ah, I also have dandelion syrup," Ruggie gestured to another jar on the shelf. "Jamil taught me how to make them. They don't taste bad if I do say so myself, shishishi~"

Yuu couldn't help but laugh slightly. Ruggie's excitement about dandelion cuisine was very...adorable, if they wanted to put a word to it. "You seem very passionate about this," They said as they took the dandelion tea jar in their own hands. "Would it be okay if you put a few servings of this in my tea cabinet?"

"Huh?” Ruggie's ear flicked in surprise.

"Ah, I don't mean to take it away from you!" Yuu said, suddenly very aware that Ruggie was doing this because he was homesick. How stupid of them to ask for something so selfish. Did they forget everything after spending a few years in luxury? "I know that you're—"

"Forgive me for interrupting you, but it's not that," Grey eyes looked between the tea and their face. "It's... Thank you." There was something more behind the simple word of thanks. Yuu couldn't even begin to digest why Ruggie would say thank you at their selfish request, but seeing the smile on Ruggie's face reassured them that it wasn't anything negative.

That was when the door to the kitchen slid open, "Ruggie, would you happen to know where—"

Yuu looked up just in time to make eye contact with a surprised-looking Jade.

Oh. They were caught. Shit.

Jade smiled, ever the picture of politeness even as his aura turned more menacing, "How serendipitous. I was just looking for you, Master."  

"They were just about to leave, right Master?" Ruggie said with a devilish grin. Gone was the sweet expression that just graced his face seconds before, instead replaced by this mischievous look— because he was clearly ratting them out! Yuu just hung their head. They would be scolded less if they left with Jade right away.

Jade kept an iron grip on them with just his gaze as they gave Ruggie a long hard look, "You're going on vacation after the debutante is over. With everyone else. That is a promise."

"But Master—"

"No buts! I'll give you paid leave!" Yuu said as Jade opened the door. "Just make sure to tell your family how much you miss them!" They relished the surprised look on Ruggie's face for a moment before following Jade out into the hallway. Yuu wasn't about to give Ruggie time to retaliate this time.

"Now that you've had your fun, you should return to the room before Azul and Riddle return," Jade chuckled. "They aren't back yet, but I am not above telling them of your...mm, adventures, if it came to it. Even if it's you, Master."

Their previous excitement waned at the thought of being bound to the bed again, "Let's just go now." And that was how Yuu's adventures to the kitchen ended, with surprises, some new cuisine, and a promise.

thank you for reading ^^ if you’d like to read more, check out my masterlist ! like the art ? look at more of dumple's works on insta !

[ prev chapter | series post | next chapter ]

[chimeracauldron]

I finally finished watching the Genshiken anime and man.

Part of me must've know that 13 episodes wasn't gonna be near enough to adapt nidaime but I'm still so sad about how much of this series got cut from the anime. I was already really upset by how the entire arc of how ogiue and sasahara's got together was cut entirely, it was such a nice story of growing to appreciate and understand someone else's interests and quirks, even if they're not your thing. Even with how little of nidaime Second Generation covered it still felt like such a half baked ending, poorly compressing hato's whole arc of suppressing their fujoshi interest into a single episode. It all crops up and resolves so abruptly within the anime. maybe they wanted more seasons but it just never happened, I know genshiken is pretty slowly paced and probably never had the appeal to justify a longer run, but the slow burn of how all these relationships grow and blossom was my fav aspect of genshiken and seeing it adapted like this just left me feeling unsatisfied. Just really makes me wanna read the manga all over again

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

We Are

A lot has been said about this show over the last 15 weeks. And despite what some people seem to think, most of it has been positive. I tend not to write much about shows in general, and stick to making pretty gifs of the shows I really like. The fact that I made exactly one set for the entire duration of this show should tell anyone who's reading that this will not be glowing review of the show. I'm not going to be mean, but if you loved the show and don't wanna do read someone with a different opinion, I beg you to stop reading. Also sorry if this is less than coherent but I'm tired so I won't be re-reading this a hundred times like I usually do before posting. Which also explains why I don't write a lot here.

We are - the story

One of the things that have been said about this show is that it lacks a plot. I would agree that the show as whole does not have single plot, but a series of plots. At it's most basic definition a plot is a series of events that shape a larger narrative. In the case of a linear plot there is a major plot line that follows the narrative from beginning to end with changes throughout. I'm not going to go into it, there are several ways this can be done depending on the type of narrative but most commonly it goes, beginning, rising, climax, falling, resolution. Now there's no such thing in this show as a whole. No single plot line. There is however several plots inside it, and these different plots do follow their own lines throughout the show. Every couple has its own plot line. And if we could only watch one couple at a time as if they had their own separate show, it would look just like any other bl, although it would certainly not be all that original. I think the friendships are what ultimately brings it all together but that by itself is not a central plot because it basically remains unchanged throughout. It's the anchor but it's not what moves the narrative forward.

We are - the ships

Once again, if you are a die hard fan of these ships do not read any more. Before I talk about them individually I just wanna say that @italianpersonwithashippersheart made an excellent point here about the fact that since we were familiar with most of the ships here, the show had an easier job in making us care for them. All the couples had their own storyline, with different stages of their development happening at the same time. And for the most part the show didn't have to spend a lot of time selling us on the relationships. It made use of a solid, reliable product that could be repackaged and resold. This is not necessarily a bad thing nor is it a new thing. It's thai bl.

Phum & Peem - The main couple. And in my opinion the least interesting one and the one most wasted here. Look, PondPhuwin are good together, this is their third show as a couple so they are a solid bet. So why not give them something with more depth? Why did I have to watch them exchange longing looks for the better part of this show? Don't get me wrong, they are great at it. Pond specially could teach a class on how to stare lovingly into Phuwin eyes. But lord was I tired of it. I mean, I'm sorry but I was fast forwarding through some of their scenes together because I've seen them all. I didn't count them but the amount of times they fell into each others arms must have been some sort of record. Sure, Phuwin is great at the facial expressions, Pond's hair ir gorgeous and he should be doing shampoo commercials, and yes, they can pull off the 'you're the only person in the universe in this moment and time loses all its meaning when I look into your eyes' thing. But enough is enough.

Q & Toey - It's fine. They're fine. They're actually much better than in My School President. Both of them I think improved a lot in their acting. But their story didn't do much for me. I enjoyed Q's change after they were boyfriends, I thought it was fun, but the drama before that, I thought, was so forced so I was not really all that invested. Also not a fan of the jealousy plan even if it did give us some entertaining moments with the friend group. I don't know, they just didn't click for me.

Tan & Fang - Is Tan one of the most adorable simps we've had in thai bl? YES. Did the boyfriend moments of this couple make me grin like an idiot 80% of the time? YES. Did I believe in the reciprocity of this relationship from the start? NO. Tan was the only reason that this relationship had me invested. His loud and unapologetic love for Fang filled the gaps in this particular love story. But the way it started made me have to work extra hard to believe the rest of it.

Chain & Pun - They were my favourites from the start. I waited 15 weeks for that kiss. Was it worth it? honestly, probably not. But at least they delivered in the end. That scene was everything I could've wanted from those two even if I wish it had happened sooner. The change in casting might've been the reason why it had to be this way so I'm not complain about that because ultimately I really enjoyed their story. Marc delivered as usual. Poon was so endearing to watch and his face is lovely. They remain my favourites and I wish I had a bit more time with them.

We Are - The friendships

This is what kept me going. When the episodes dragged and I found myself a bit bored, there was a big group moment and it brought me back to the show. When this show started, in my monthly breakdown I said I thought that @bengiyo comparing watching this show to watching the actors IG reels was a good way to describe the experience. But for me that wasn't always a bad thing. Just like with the couples, the fact that I knew these actors and they knew each other made me feel more connected to those ensemble moments. They felt very natural and grounded, and ultimately I could relate and be touched by them. I think that it's the show's biggest strength.

Well, this got longer than I expected and I never really know how to end these things so in conclusion. It was good fluff, with good friendship moments and solid acting from the couples. I will however forget most of it by this time next week, specially with the amount of ql's I'm watching at the moment.

If you've made it to the end, thanks for reading. 💜

[milkymolle]

i'm at the point where i'm writing transformers fanfiction. it's dratchet and it's very self indulgent sci fi headcanons. so if you're interested here's the link, and the whole fic is under the read more!

Some patients like to watch Ratchet's hands while he works, curious how he'll fix them up. Sometimes they just glance about the room, quiet or making idle conversation. Ratchet's gotten used to that stuff; he can chat while he works, or not, either way he's wholly focused on the task. But apparently there is something that can distract him--if his patient is silently boring a hole in his head with their staring.

"Can I help you?" Ratchet grumbles. He's already pretty pissed at Drift's general lack of self preservation, manifesting very obviously in the many repair jobs he's neglected on himself. He saw Drift's limp and demanded he sit down to look at it. Having Drift try to melt Ratchet's face with his bright yellow eyes doesn't improve his mood.

"Sorry," Drift replies. Ratchet can see a smile twitch onto his face from his periphery. "I'm looking at your aura."

Ratchet pulls back to make an aggrieved noise. "Great." He leans back over to finish soldering the wires in Drift's knee, in order to keep his own mouth shut.

"I'm serious!" says Drift, though he has laughter in his voice. "You have a really lovely aura. I think it comes across to your patients, even if they don't realize it."

"Uh-huh," Ratchet says, to keep himself from saying something mean. He came all this way, so he ought to at least try to be nice to Drift. "What's it look like?"

Drift's quiet for a moment, still scrutinizing with those damn eyes, like he has to really consider it. "Well, there are layers to auras, but I don't wanna make your head explode. Basically, you always have earthy tones surrounding you, but when you work on someone, pinks and blues come out. Energon and spark colors." Ratchet glances up to see the smile on Drift's face. "You're a healer to your very core."

Drift often says disarming things like this to rile Ratchet up, and what's worse is that he usually truly means what he says. So the statement that Ratchet is a natural doctor is not affecting really, it's something he's heard many times before, but when Drift says it in his way and he smiles so genuinely, it does get to Ratchet. Annoyingly.

Trying to save face, he replies, "Yeah, 'cause Primus made me that way."

"That's what I've been saying!"

Ratchet scoffs and Drift snickers.

They get into trouble again soon, and as much as Ratchet would like to blame Drift as a magnet for these things, he's at least self-aware enough to know he's no better. He only wishes less Decepticons had decided to continue evil-doing in damn near every corner of the galaxy.

The rig they are currently trying to flee is stupidly labyrinthine, and the blaring alarms don't help Ratchet's focus. He shoots out another security camera and shouts, "Are you sure we aren't going in circles?"

"Let me think," Drift shouts back. He's just standing there--granted, with his swords drawn--scrutinizing further down the hallway. Ratchet can't see anything identifying where they are, where they're going. It's all dark gunmetal walls and floors and ceilings.

Ratchet darts his eyes around, checking their six. A door to the left slides open, and as soon as the con's head pokes through Ratchet blasts a hole through it. (Once again, he feels a sick gratitude towards Pharma's hands.)

They'll be more soon. "Drift--"

"This way." He's running off, and Ratchet has to scramble after him. They take a series of purposeful turns, like Drift's been possessed and Ratchet has no better ideas than to follow him. Drift punches open a heavy door, revealing a room with two cons. Drift doesn't hesitate lopping the head off one, so Ratchet guns down the other. Only after they're dead does Ratchet realize they are somehow in the escape pod housing.

"How did you know where this was?" Ratchet asks as Drift wrenches one open.

"You wouldn't believe me," he gruffs, and grabs Ratchet's collar to chuck him inside. He only stumbles a little.

"Were you seriously just guessing?" Ratchet shouts as he finds the controls and frantically works them out.

"I sensed it." The ignition kicks, and they're shooting out from the Decepticon ship. Ratchet opens his mouth and Drift continues, "We'll argue about it later, if we don't get shot out of the sky."

Some part of Ratchet is still loath to agree with Drift, especially right now when he feels morally obligated to argue against the ability to "sense" some escape pods, but he really doesn't want to get blown up so he grits his teeth and gets them the hell away from that stupid rig.

Drift's pretty quiet back on their ship. Apparently the promise to continue the argument was empty. Ratchet's not sure if it's a PTSD thing he's going through, being back on a Decepticon ship, or maybe the fact that news of their last location will get to the DJD sooner rather than later. He doesn't have the nerve to ask, just to watch Drift sitting against the wall with his greatsword laid out in his lap.

Ratchet does sit next to him, though. "Y'know," he says, "I was thinking about it back on the con's ship, and I realized I don't think I ever thanked you for it. For Pharma's hands."

Drift looks at him somewhat bewildered, like he'd never considered it himself. "You don't need to thank me for that. But you're welcome."

They sit quietly for a bit. Ratchet maps out all the rivets on the wall across from them. Then Drift says, "They're not his hands anymore, you know. They're yours."

Ratchet smiles a bit grimly. "Yeah. Though honestly, it doesn't feel great. Carrying around a dead person's hands. An old friend's, even." He holds his hand out to look at it, the miniscule differences in Pharma's fingers and wrist from Ratchet's old ones, the ones he had for millions of years. "It doesn't feel great using them, knowing what they did before."

Drift catches Ratchet's hand from the air. He holds it firm while being careful, like it was a precious thing. Ratchet blinks at him.

Drift stares back with intent. "They're yours," he insists. "Because I gave them to you."

Ratchet's not quite sure what he means--though maybe some part of him does, some implicit understanding, but he can't think about that right now. He sees how serious Drift is, so he concedes, "Alright."

After he's sure, Drift lets go.

They spend a lot of time getting far away from that quadrant of space. They also don't head back to the Lost Light, to avoid bringing trouble with them. This little shuttle is so much quieter, just the hum of a space vessel and occasionally a strange creaking. He leaves Drift alone for a bit, or perhaps he wants to be alone himself. He reads, like he usually does when he's not working, and he finds some texts about Spectralism and energy reading that make him pretty angry but he tries to read it anyway. It makes some attempt to connect with reality, citing properties of light and electromagnetism that aren't incorrect, though it always circles back to the soul and to God. It makes it difficult for Ratchet to not mentally construct an argument against religious doctrine that was written many years ago.

There's a knock at the door and Ratchet hides the article away like he's been caught. "Yeah?"

The door slides open, and Drift peers up at Ratchet like he wished he could stay hidden behind it. "Hey. You busy?"

Ratchet laughs a bit; he's currently lounging on his berth. "Nope."

"You bored?"

"I think it's pretty hard not to be."

Drift walks in like that was permission. "If we're going to be stuck in a crappy little shuttle for the next 78 hours, we should probably find something to do."

Ratchet feels very self-conscious on his berth suddenly, and he wishes this conversation wasn't happening in his little room. He meant it when he said to himself he didn't have time to think about this. He lurches to sit at the side of the berth, trying for some scrap of respectability. "Like what?"

Drift stands in front of him with his impeccable posture, looking strong for someone covered in dents and scratches. "Could I teach you some hand?"

For some reason this surprises Ratchet, though it is a pretty good idea. Drift rushes on before Ratchet can reply: "There are situations where it could be useful. It's the only way of communicating possible without being able to hear, speak, or see. I mean, I don't know exactly what would happen to leave us like that, but--it just seems like a good backup."

"Yeah, it does." Ratchet gives a little smile, and Drift smiles back, relieved and beaming. Then he hops up onto the berth, sitting cross-legged next from Ratchet. He holds his hands up expectantly.

"Right now?"

"Were you not just saying how impossibly bored you are?"

Ratchet huffs and moves to mirror Drift, sitting across from him and raising his hands. His hands, the ones Drift gave him. Drift takes them by just barely lacing their fingertips together; Drift's hands are slightly bigger, scuffed, but they feel clever in Ratchet's own. His touch is not firm like it was before, it's something shy but eager. Ratchet briefly squeezes them.

Drift's still smiling. The lesson he gives then is precise and confident, like he'd planned it all out beforehand. Ratchet privately enjoys the thought.

There's a lively port they deem far enough away that they decide to dock at. It's good-sized moon with an atmosphere that supports organic life, and Drift assures Ratchet that the DJD avoid organic space as much as possible. (Apparently, the pleasure they take in murdering non-mechanical life is outweighed by their pure disgust.)

They stock up the shuttle and take a moment to sit on a bench to rest, and to enjoy the life around them. It reminds him of the Lost Light in a way, feeling like a very small piece in a large, loud world. It's something of a comfort.

Drift is rather impassive when Ratchet takes peeks at him. He briefly, mortifyingly, wishes he could sees people's emotions the way Drift claims to. It's such an absurd and sudden thought that he can't help but linger on it.

"Hey." Ratchet points out someone in the crowd. "Can you see their aura?"

Drift gives him an absolutely disbelieving look. "What, is this a joke?"

"No, seriously, I wanna know."

Drift still scowls at him, but he does turn to look at the person Ratchet pointed out. Then he gets that focused look. "Hm. They're getting old. They give off deep colors, like someone who carries a lot with them."

"What kinds of colors?"

Drift tilts his head. "Deep, purply colors. It's harder to define than just the color wheel."

Ratchet stares at the person, a wide mechanical that puffs out steam from their vents every half minute or so. He can't see anything other than the off-white of the smoke.

An organic person walks up on two pairs of legs to speak with the mech. Ratchet jerks his head. "What about them?"

"It's harder for me to read organics, I'm not as used to it." He studies them. "Hmm, they're warmer, sort of green? They remind me a bit of you."

Ratchet huffs. "I thought I was pink and blue or whatever."

"You are, sometimes. Auras change constantly. But something about them...it reminds me of you when--we first met."

Ratchet watches the organic quietly. Drift thinks about that time a lot; he's admitted as much. Most of them probably think of the days before the war, for many different reasons. Ratchet spent a lot of his life thinking of it, thinking of what could be different, of what he should've done. Like there's some way he could've saved more lives. Eventually he'd learned that it was a useless endeavor, trying to calculate the right decisions for things that were long dead. He tries to let go of his regrets now.

He thinks of the day he met Drift a lot, too. There was a time where he'd thought of what would happen if Drift had died; how many Autobots would still be alive? He'd operated on soldiers that had been shot by Deadlock, or he tried to. But like he'd realized, it's a useless type of math. He doesn't regret saving anyone's life, not a single person.

He's been staring at that couple for a long time, and when they finally notice him he glances down to his feet. "Guess I was greener back then," he says.

Somehow he can feel Drift rolling his eyes. "Uh huh. So are you asking this to make fun of me or what?"

"No, I'm just curious. I'd like to know how it works for you."

Ratchet turns to see Drift making yet another face at him. "Did something happen back on the Lost Light that made you less of an ass?"

Ratchet flicks at his finial.

The only windows on the shuttle are in the cockpit, and occasionally Ratchet would sit in there just to observe the space outside. He'd honestly seen enough of space at this point in his life, mostly flat black dotted with pinpricks. Though sometimes they pass a nebula, or sail over the ring of some planet, and those are things Ratchet can still appreciate.

Drift spends a lot of time in the cockpit. He seems to just stare out at unmoving stars with intent focus; it may be his way of meditating, though his eyes are searching. A lot of Cybertronians are drawn to the stars, and it doesn't surprise Ratchet that Drift is one of them.

"Are you one of those people that think stars are alive?" Ratchet asks him, startling Drift from his reverie.

"Aren't they?" he asks.

Ratchet sighs. "Well, a lot of people argue that they meet the qualifications of being 'alive.' There's a lot of things you could argue are alive, if you broaden the definition enough--they're similar enough to sparks. I guess I meant if you think of them as...people."

"Ah." Drift turns back to the window. The cockpit is dim except for a green light emitted by the HUD. "They're alive, but I'm not sure they're 'people.' They don't have the aura of something sentient. I know some people think they're the souls of the departed, sparks reformed far off. I think there's merit to thinking that our sparks are reformed somehow--when they fade, it's just the energy scattering, and it could go any number of places, become anything really. But...the soul isn't something material, something you can see. It's held in our spark, and when the spark dissapates, it's freed."

Ratchet's quiet, and Drift glances at him with something like discomfort on his face. Before he can continue, probably to defend himself, Ratchet says, "No, I think it's...interesting. How you think of things. There's a logic to it, if you believe in things like souls. It's just...how do you believe in something that you can't see, or can't be proven?"

Drift gives a small smile at that. "It can't be proven in the scientific sense, but it can definitely be experienced. I have." He pats at the greatsword laid in his lap. "I feel Wing with me, always. It's like another sense, and you can't really understand it until you identify even having that sense. Like...you won't know what 'tasting' is until you put something in your mouth."

Such a strange way of putting it. There's a knee-jerk reaction Ratchet has to things like that, things so esoteric they border on nonsensical, but when he thinks on it he can sort of understand what Drift's trying to say. But he can't help but ask, "Is that how you 'sensed' those stupid escape pods?"

"That was Primus' guidance."

"Right." Ratchet sits in the copilot seat and shuts up, for his own sake.

When they're not practicing chirolinguistics, and there's no more frivolous repairs for Ratchet to work on, he demands regular check-ups on Drift. He reasons that he needs to keep up his practice and that Drift is far overdue for extensive repairs. They both really need an overhaul, if they can scrape the money together. For now, he resorts to rote examinations to make himself feel useful.

He examines the jagged scar on Drift's spark chamber. Of all the Decepticons' stupid beliefs, forging their badges from their own metal, ripped from the most vital organ of their bodies, is one of the more irritating. There's any number of conditions that can arise from the practice, if not an almost instant death that can come from a botched surgery.

"I can practically smell you judging me," Drift says from above. He sounds hauty for someone with his chest wide open.

Ratchet huffs and pulls back a little from his scrutinizing--all the scans came back fine, anyway. "You know, I'm just annoyed because--"

"--you worry. I know." Drift smiles at him. Ratchet still doesn't like having his sentences finished, but he lets it go with just a scowl.

"What did you even do with your badge? I know some defectors have it smelted down and reattached."

"It's long gone--I didn't want it anymore." Ratchet pushes his chair away from the examination table, and Drift shifts his chest plates back. "For a while I regretted it, but I think it's good that the scar is there. It's not something I want to burnish over and forget."

Ratchet remounts the scanner into its port, and his gaze feels distant. "Yeah, I get that." He swivels back around with his penlight out, reaching for Drift's face. He places his chin in the hand, and Ratchet maneuvers it to get a good look at Drift's eye.

The last time he'd looked at them like this, they'd been leaking rust. They're clear now, healthy, though they certainly have some wear. The light sensor at the back of the eye seems standard, a CMOS with a few dozen gold wires. Ratchet counts six lenses instead of five, which isn't unusual and makes sense for someone who was a sharpshooter. Ratchet frowns as he moves to the other eye.

"I didn't ask you what you think of the stars," Drift says suddenly.

Ratchet thought they'd moved past that. "They're giant balls of gas formed by gravity and nuclear fusion."

Ratchet decides to be satisfied with his exam, so he shuts the light off and frees Drift. Drift's smiling and says, "I figured you didn't have a very romantic view of them."

"The similarity to sparks is interesting," Ratchet says. "I agree with the theory that stars are our ancestors; Vector Sigma is likely a small neuron star that evolved to carry code. But no, I don't think of them as gods or souls or anything. They're natural phenomenon that, in incredibly rare cases like with Cybertron, learned to reproduce as small bundles of positrons and code that formed a protective shell around them that we call our bodies."

Drift puts his chin in his hand as Ratchet speaks. "You know, that seems far more miraculous than a higher being granting life to a planet."

"Something I've learned after all this time--especially on the Lost Light, is that the universe is far, far more vast and old and unknown than we like to imagine. Things that seem unbelievable can find a way given enough time and the right circumstances. I think it cheapens the grandeur of the universe just say a god made it all and stop questioning how and why things are."

Drift nods. "Religion doesn't negate the need for scientific inquiry, I think. There's nothing wrong with trying to understand and finding answers for yourself--we know what it's like to have those in charge tell us what to believe without explanation. But don't you think all this is the way it is, that anything exists at all because the universe itself has a will--many wills, even--that make the shape of everything?"

"That's stupid."

Drift laughs. "That's more like it."

They take time getting back to the Lost Light. More than necessary, but things always seem to get out of hand. They need to get the shuttle repaired and they need to find a place that supplies energon, and then there's a stop Drift wants to make nearby, and somehow they'll end up being chased out of that town and onto the next. They are currently stowing away in cargo that's being shipped back to the station they left the shuttle at to be fixed. It's cramped and humid and dark, huddled together behind large metal drums that rattle as the ship fires its thrusters. It's not so bad though. It gives Ratchet time to think, to piece things together in his head like he's had so little time (or will) to do.

Drift's hand finds his. Ratchet turns it over appeasingly without thinking. Then Drift does something with his fingers, and Ratchet realizes it's chirolinguistics. Drift does it again so Ratchet can catch it:

Are you okay?

Ratchet has to make the translation in his mind. Fine.

You seem happy.

Drift has that pleased little smile on his face. It used to grind Ratchet's gears, but now it feels like a good-natured tease that he needs to return. Somehow, talking in hand has a layer of removal that makes talking about things like this a little easier.

Yeah. Weird, he signs back. Drift grins.

Drift's refueling when Ratchet puts down a stack of pads on the table before him. "Hey," he says, and he doesn't bother sitting or letting Drift reply before he continues: "I've been reading and thinking and it's possible you have very mild outlier abilities. Being able to see an energy field--if that's what 'auras' are--says to me that you're processing light in a more advanced way than average Cybertronians. It's possible you have general enhanced senses, like how you're able to do so much crazy shit with your swords, but by just looking at your frame there's nothing suggesting any unique hardware helping you run like this. So I can only guess that there's something in your CNA that developed a unique code for how you process stimuli. There's really no way to know without looking directly at the code in your brain, but that's leaning way too far into mnemosurgery than is comfortable, in my opinion. I think the theory is sound, though. I'll ask First Aid to read what I've written when we get back.

Drift's staring at him. Ratchet suddenlt desperately wishes he hadn't run out of things to say. Somehow he thought if he just talked enough he could bowl over the awkwardness of the conversation. He debates opening a datapad and showing the research he'd gone over when Drift speaks: "You believe me?"

"Hm?"

"You think I--that I can really see auras?"

Ratchet huffs. "Well, obviously you're seeing something. I don't think it's emissions from your soul or whatever, so I'm trying to figure out what. If...you wanna read what I wrote, maybe it'd help..."

Everything becomes increasingly embarrassing as it stays quiet. Ratchet feels very, very exposed, standing before Drift and being honest, being thoughtful. He then realizes that he's not quite sure what he hoped to accomplish with this; Drift is more than satisfied thinking that he can read people's auras and doesn't need a scientific explanation for his beliefs. This was an entirely self-serving affair that he has dropped before Drift and expected a response.

As Ratchet is thinking through an escape strategy, Drift stands up and takes Ratchet's head in his hands and leans forward to kiss him right on the mouth. It effectively stops every process in Ratchet's brain, so he's just standing there with his hands half raised and his eyes open. He can see the pretty color of the metal on Drift's face, a mild color that looks like a rich grey but has the warmth of lavender in it.

Drift pulls back pretty quickly--the whole kiss lasted maybe a second. Drift's still staring at him with his eyes brighter than Ratchet ever remembers seeing them. Implausibly, he sounds out of breath as he says, "Thanks."

Ratchet doesn't say anything so Drift drops his eyes and his hands to scoop up the pads Ratchet had brought. "I will read these. If that's alright."

Ratchet replies, "Yeah. Great."

Drift walks right out the door. Ratchet watches as it closes and he stands there and wonders if he'd secretly hoped something like this would happen, if his own mind betrayed him into being vulnerable so Drift could take him and do whatever he wanted with him. It's very, incredibly possible, so Ratchet stops thinking on it and makes his own hasty retreat from an empty room.

[whereisyourstar]

That's Me

Part 4 of the Stand By, Hold Back, Be Patient series

Part 3, Part 5

Rating: SFW with mild and minimal explicitness at the end

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Brief mention of talking with an abusive family member, brief mentions of blood, murder, etc., awkward walks, the slow burn is starting to kindle

Life goes on. Payday comes and goes, May starts in a cool, rainy earnest, and you begin to settle in.

You make some adjustments to your living room's layout, adding an ugly, overstuffed yellow-green ottoman that goes with nothing else in the room, because it was free on the side of the road and you liked it. Heracles gets a dog bed that he never uses save as a convenient place to put his toys, the favorite of which is a stuffed lamb he whined over at the store. He worries over it constantly, and you have to stop him from taking it with him when you go for walks in the forest, which has gotten you thinking, however hesitantly, that perhaps Heracles could do with a friend. You remind yourself that you're a long way off from being able to take care of two dogs, but you do keep an eye on the various animal shelters around Crystal Lake.

The locks on every single one of your doors has been replaced, and you've even added a latch to the porch's screen door, which you're devastatingly proud of. It took days of on-and-off labor, half of which you spent sure that you'd ruined your good, strong doors, but the end result is a cabin that just feels safe again. That's the important thing.

You got around to answering some of those piling up messages on your phone, too. Some lie about having to wait until payday to reconnect your phone gets you out of most of the vitriol, but it brings up a whole slew of lectures about how you've always been awful with money, and what were you thinking buying that cabin, and what are you going to do when you need to get a real job out there in the sticks, and when are you coming home? You add answering at least two messages a day to your schedule, but do nothing about the calls. She's your mother, but there's limits.

The truce with Jason holds. You've seen him twice in the week since coming to an agreement. The first was just as a glimpse in the forest while Heracles forged a trail up ahead, heading the opposite direction to do…whatever it is he does when he's not terrorizing you. The second time when you were switching the lock on the front door and he rounded the corner of your house, completely casual, like he owned the place just as much as you. Heracles, who had been idly sniffing around the trees while you worked, launched himself like a rocket directly into Jason's arms, surprising you both, and you'd been left apologizing for him between laughter. You'd tried to explain what you were doing with the locks, that it made you feel better to have something sturdier on your doors, and you still couldn't tell if he actually understood. He'd shown no interest in going into your home again anyway, so you supposed it didn't matter.

It's a bleary day when you see him again. The rain hasn't let up all morning, lending a little extra lifelessness to your daily scrolling and reporting, but right as you break for lunch and get a day-old croissant in you—you got a box of six half off at the store because they're slightly too brown, and they're the most delicious thing you've had in weeks—the patter on the windows abruptly stops. It surprises you enough to pull back the curtain on the window over your kitchen sink and, like a beacon, a patch of sun burns through the cloud cover.

You turn to Heracles, who has been watching the final crumb of croissant like with complete focus, and ask, "Wanna go?"

It's a win-win-win. He gets to pee without getting drenched, you get to finish your croissant without judgement, and you both have a chance to stretch your legs. There's just something extra intolerable about being inside when you have to be, and extra freeing when you pull in that first lungful of rainsoaked, cool, green-smelling air.

The forest is waterlogged after so much rain and within minutes of walking you realize that your comfy hoodie isn't going to cut it against the drops still sliding down the tallest trees. Looking up is an exercise in getting errant water in your eye, but you keep craning your neck backward to watch the tops of the trees while Heracles leads you around. It's dizzying how tall some of these trees are, and you're not even in a particularly old part of the forest. Far east of your cabin, caught between the lake and the town, is where the vacationers and residents alike don't go, the forest thick and dark and old out that way. You heard someone mention bears and mountain lions who make that part of the Crystal Lake woods their home and decided you had no business over there.

You're staring at sky between layers of branch and leaf and twig, idly fascinated with how quickly the silver clouds pass by while Heracles sniffs the base of a tree with gusto, when a branch snaps to your left. There's a moment where you don't recognize him as he ducks under a low bough a few feet away—so he does own other clothes, this ratty grey-brown jacket making a stunning debut with the usual outfit—and your heart does an odd flip when you take in the hockey mask. Instant relief, because it's just Jason, not some stranger. A stranger catching you in the woods opens up an entire gamut of possible outcomes that you're not prepared to deal with, but Jason? He's a known quantity, as much as someone like him can be known. Just here to catch up with Heracles and maybe check that you're not making a nuisance of yourself on his land.

The relief and a small helping of embarrassment at being caught quite literally watching the clouds translates into being downright friendly on reflex. "Hey!" you sign hello, muscle memory pulling your lips into a smile. "Here to—"

The rest hardly matters, because Heracles finally tears himself away from the tree long enough to run to Jason, pulling you right along with him. You stop just short of him while Heracles makes quick work of jumping up and scrabbling muddy paws all over Jason's legs. You wince and suck a breath in through your teeth at the twin trails of newly wet muck on the pants despite all the filth already encrusted on them. "Ahhhh…" you say half behind your hand, watching Jason's reaction carefully. He pays the paws and the mud no mind, even squelches onto one knee on the drenched forest floor to rub at Heracles' ears. Still— "We've been working on that. I like his enthusiasm, but he nearly bowled over a kid with a burger in town yesterday, so…anyway, sorry about the muddy hello."

Jason makes a noncommittal gesture before going right back to lavishing Heracles in attention. He has, however, caught your dog doing the only thing he loves more than receiving undivided attention—exploring and sniffing to his heart's content. Much sooner than normal, Heracles pulls away from Jason and starts tugging on the leash, harness straining. A thought you're not sure what to do with immediately pops into your mind—spending time with your dog is the only thing keeping you breathing at the moment, so what happens if Heracles can't meet that quota? So far these visits have stretched anywhere from an hour to fifteen minutes, and granted, you don't have the best data considering how new this all is, but you're certain a minute isn't anywhere near enough.

So you make an invitation of it. Arm straining against Heracles' impressive resolve to drag you with him, you look to Jason and say, "Ah, you actually caught us in the middle of a walk, and he's not going to want to stop for at least another hour. If you're not busy, would you like to…come with us? For a bit?"

He surprises you by agreeing once he's stood—that same careful slowness in his movements that you just can't figure out—with a yes. And then you're off, Heracles' tail high and wagging to have his two favorite people walking behind him.

It's…awkward. Awkward in the way that you don't want it to be awkward, but you're the one that created the situation in the first place, so you kind of just have to deal with it. Jason chooses to walk with you, not up with Heracles like you thought he would, and puts roughly four feet of space between himself and you wherever the forest allows. It's the kind of room that would insult you if you thought he was doing this for any other reason but to hang out with Heracles. As it is, you just do your best not to veer too closely to him while Heracles chooses his path.

The silence is expected, and even kind of nice once you get used to another person being there to share it. There's a good rumbling in the distance that says the storm isn't done with Crystal Lake just yet, but it sounds far enough off that you're not too worried about it yet. Birds chirp and flit around in the trees, sometimes accompanied by much heavier wildlife that you can't see, and it doesn't take too long for you to become absorbed in the forest again. And you take a few extra glances at the clouds and their silver-gold interplay with the hidden sun, because it's still gorgeous out here even with a serial killer on your left. It's enough to make a person nearly forget to be afraid.

What you don't expect is for Jason to be the one to break that silence. He draws your attention back by plucking the leash in your hand like a guitar string, pulling you back from admiring a brown bird that seems common for the area. You try not to let your sudden spike in fear show on your face when you turn back to him.

Dog, he signs, then points up ahead where Heracles scratches at a spot in the mud. Dog.

Your brain whirls to try and figure this one out. The two of you haven't communicated at all, really, since the day he forced you to take ASL off one of your brain's shelves. He hasn't seemed interested, despite you continuing to sign all the words you know when you talk at him. This comes out of left field and you have to kick your brain out of nature-appreciation mode to answer. "Heracles? Oh, he's fine, he'll start walking again in a—no?" Dog, he signs, then points at Heracles again. "Y…yeah, Heracles. Did you forget his name?" And you slip the leash's handle around your wrist so you can sign name, two fingers tapped to two fingers. Jason jolts, leaves making wet noises under his shoes when he half-turns to sign yes while pointing at your hands.

Lightbulb. "Name!" you exclaim, spurred on by his enthusiastic yes. "You wanted to know the sign for name! Do you want to know why Heracles is named that—" and you sign why, intent on making good on your self promise to teach him question words "—or maybe you go by something else? Or—"

Jason points to you and signs name.

What a way to realize you never introduced yourself to him. A mix of mortification and confusion no doubt colors your cheeks, because yes, you never thought to tell the mass murderer your name, but you also didn't think he'd be interested. He's here for your dog, not you—you're just a conduit through which the dog can be experienced. But he did ask.

When you tell him, you watch his mask very closely, try to get a better look at that very brown eye you saw before. There's not enough light in the forest to illuminate the deep eyeholes of the mask, but you do get to watch in quiet awe as Jason perfectly fingerspells your name, just as you did. There's something about watching his big, gloved hands work so delicately around the movements of your name that you feel…something. Maybe pleased? Impressed that he picked it up so quickly?

"You got it," you tell him, and you can't stop the little smile that comes upon you when he signs it again. Like he's trying to commit it to memory. "That's me."

Heracles has less patience for this interlude than you do, but the dam's been broken now, you're pretty sure you won't annoy Jason by talking to him, so you try to keep the conversation going when the walk starts up again. "You know," you start after a moment, catching him turning his mask nearly over his right shoulder to better look at you. So that sagging eye is mostly or completely sightless, then. He's going to hurt his neck like this, craning it over and down to see you, and you make a mental note to walk on his left next time. "It's kind of funny. You're Jason, he's Heracles…we've got an Argonaut theme going. Maybe if I get another dog I'll name it Orpheus…or Nestor, I always liked Nestor." You glance up to find Jason staring down at you, and you say, a little meekly, "Like…the Golden Fleece? The myth?"

And, so deliberately that it's almost comical, Jason signs yes-no. Maybe, or I don't know.

While Heracles pulls the two of you along, you tell him. It's a barebones overview of the Golden Fleece tale—neither of you have the kind of time required for the full myth—that you have to look into the furthest pits of your childhood Greek myth obsession to scrape together, but before you've hit on the even-more-mythical Jason and his Argonauts departing Iolcus, the present-Jason has stopped you over a dozen times. With a bit of work on both your parts, including finally getting those who, what, where, and why signs into play, he's got a working understanding of the main characters and the meddling gods before too long. You're fully warmed to the topic by then, using your hands not to sign, but to just gesture as you put together biographies of ancient heroes, and you can feel how much you're smiling. Every question is more than welcome, bringing with it the validation of poring over dense, flimsy-papered tomes of myth as a kid, and you're more than happy to explain what you can. It's clear Jason's getting into it, too—his stiff body language shifts the longer you talk, the more readily you answer his questions. He trips over his own fingers more than once trying to sign who or where and you have to bite your cheek to keep from thinking out loud about how nice this is. It doesn't feel like something you're doing to placate him, and you don't think he's the type to indulge you, so it's truly just…talking. Talking with someone who wants to know what you have to say.

Jason's hands are literally and metaphorically stained with the blood of innocent people, good people, and he's also the most engaging person you've spoken with in years. An ethics scholar would have a field day with the way you're feeling right now.

It gets to a point that, when Heracles abruptly yawns and starts to turn back, you actually feel your heart sink a little. He stops for a pat from Jason when he passes between the two of you, but he's clearly finished with his explorations for the day. You try to keep your expression and tone neutral when you say, "Looks like he's done out here. It's been…what, an hour? Hour and a half since we left?" You check your phone and wince—closer to two, but then, Jason did join on about thirty minutes into the walk. The energy of seeing him probably kept Heracles going longer than normal. Still, you look up at the sliver of sky you can see from here and bite your lip. Jason's signing what when you pull yourself back. "Heracles'll just take us the way we came, which wouldn't normally be a problem, but there's no way we're beating that storm."

As if on cue, a huge clap of thunder rings out somewhere nearby, and both you and Heracles jump. Jason just lifts his head to stare at the same patch of sky you did—lots of neck on display, all of it sparking that unnatural-discomfort-wrong part of your brain—before tapping his chest and pointing a direction perpendicular to Heracles. Then he takes off in that direction using these long, purposeful strides, and you have to run with Heracles just to follow behind. He checks over his shoulder only once and slightly readjusts his speed, which means you were right to follow and he isn't just attempting the world's rudest Irish exit. "Come on, follow Jason, buddy," you tell Heracles needlessly. He finds it fun trying to keep up with Jason, meaning you're dragged behind at a half-jog for who knows how many miles.

The sky threatens to break open for the entire twenty minute jog back, but it holds out just long enough for Jason to deposit you and Heracles back to to the awning-side of your cabin. You knew Heracles didn't take you too far into the forest on these walks, but being so close this whole time surprises you, and you let out a surprised "Oh!" as you step out of the woods. A glance at the sky shows it dark, the sun on its descent making for an eerie ambiance, but you're grinning when you turn to Jason. "Thank you! That was so much faster, thank you so much!" You're panting around the words, but you do mean them. He just makes that same noncommittal gesture from before, then turns to go.

Something in you can't accept him just walking off like that. You should be glad to see him go, and a part of you is, but still…you enjoyed yourself this afternoon, however improbably. He didn't have to listen to you like he did, and he certainly didn't have to show you this more direct route to the house. So you shout, "Wait!" after him and before he's turned round again, you ask, "Do you eat?"

Over his shoulder, still mostly pointed away, the mask dips down. Yes.

"Okay, stay right here for just a minute, I have something for you." And you don't check that he's staying behind as you get your door unlocked, taking it on trust that he's not about to let you embarrass yourself. Where that trust comes from is anyone's guess, but it urges you to ignore the mud Heracles tracks inside while you take a day-old croissant from the box and hurriedly wrap it in a clean yellow gingham patterned kitchen towel. You're back outside in an instant and your heart does a curious little leap to see him still standing there, waiting for you. You run right up to him, fear completely forgotten, and hold the parcel out in the space between. "Here, it's just a croissant, but it's genuinely the most incredible thing I've had since I got here. You have to try one."

Jason eyes you, then the wrapped up croissant, then you again. Pointedly does not take it when he signs why?

"Because I had a lot of fun today," you say, entirely too honest. "No one's let me go on like that for…I don't know, years? It was nice, and I appreciate it, so…here. There's no poison in it, promise."

You're close enough that you can see the shape of Jason's working eye scrunch a little, and his shoulders lift, like you've said something funny. But he does take the croissant, all careful, tentative movements, and you shudder at the feeling of his gloves against your bare knuckles. There's a moment where he just holds it in his huge hands, staring at it, then he looks up at you and nods once. A thank you, you think.

The sky ruptures into a torrent of cold, harsh rain, so you don't linger. Still, from the safety of your front door, you watch as Jason tucks the croissant into some interior pocket on his jacket, which is just extremely gratifying.

You wonder if you should have invited him in as you're wiping off Heracles' muddy paws, the dog in question collapsed into a puddle of sleepy bliss. He got you home in time to avoid the rain, but you assume he lives somewhere in the denser, older part of the forest with all the other dangerous creatures. That's a long walk, even for someone with his stride.

It would have been polite to invite him in, but even if he'd said yes, you don't think there's any getting around the fact that the last time he was in your house it was with the intention of killing you. (And you do want to know, more than ever now, why he chose not to that first time. And the second. But that requires a level of communication that will take a lot more than just a walk or two to achieve, you're sure.) Then there's the fact that, the time before that, he killed an entire shift of construction workers in here. You could ask what he did with the heads, probably, but do you really want him to show you? What if he decides to add yours to whatever nefarious skull pile he's building?

One nice, mostly one-sided conversation doesn't change what Jason is. It's good to remember that. But even still, you find yourself tucked up on the sofa for the requisite pre-dinner nap, Heracles already passed out and kicking in his sleep, and reading a retelling of the Golden Fleece myth. At the very least, if these random Jason appearances keep happening, you can make them interesting for him. And if you happen to enjoy it too, well. You'll leave that one to the ethics scholars.

Jason sits against the wall of his house and rips the bundle out of his pocket. He's dripping with rain that still hasn't let up despite the long walk, but what's important is that it's mostly dry here, and he can think. He thought plenty on the way over, he always thinks best while walking, but he needed to see this thing while poring over his own thoughts, and for some reason he just…hadn't been able to let the thing you'd given him be ruined by the downpour.

He unwraps the yellow cloth—clean, smelling faintly of soap and the bread it conceals—and finds you were telling the truth. You said it was a croissant like he was supposed to know what that is, but it's obviously just a cold, very brown, curved roll of some kind. It crackles under his fingers when he squeezes it, flakes fluttering from the cloth and onto his lap. Not like any bread he's ever encountered, in this life or his first, but it seems, for all intents and purposes, completely mundane. There's no poison in it, promise.

So what is your angle. You're not the typical trespasser, he knew that after his first encounter with you. You're fast, having taken him by surprise twice now with just how quickly you've been able to run when he's close by, but you're also smart. Anyone who recognized his sign—and he still doesn't know why that particular memory unburied itself that day, of his mother sitting across from him at the table and showing him the peculiar gesture for dog after she'd had success in teaching him mommy, trying to build his vocabulary with all his favorite things first—and was able to answer in kind had to be, but to then use those signs to give him the ability to answer questions, and ask his permission to stay…it puts him on the defensive just as surely as any weapon. He had thought he was dealing with a deer, all freeze instinct or breakneck speed when startled, and approached you with that idea in mind. No sudden movements, not while he was still making up his mind about what to do with you, in case you decided to run.

He kept the tactic after coming to the agreement with you, but after today…you're not the trembling doe he thought you were.

You're scared of him. You should be, he's intentionally terrifying, but that fear needs someplace to go when your life isn't in danger. A deer will run when it is scared and will bleat when it's caught, but a deer isn't as smart as you are, nor is it as protective. No prey animal he knows would go to such lengths as you have to protect Heracles, which means he has badly miscalculated, because you aren't prey at all. You're a predator, just like him. Intelligent, quick, and loyal—he thinks of your eyes, how you watch him just as intently as he watches you, and thinks hawk.

He puts together what he knows. You're dangerous, and he needs to understand how. Not in the same way as him, you were so easy to hold down—and he lingers, not for the first time, on the way your exposed throat had curved up, just daring him to touch it, when you screamed for Heracles to run—and the singular hit you've gotten on him was completely ineffectual. He could overpower you in an instant, but he hasn't, in part because of the way you speak to him. You know the signed language he learned pieces of as a boy and wasted no time in communicating with him. He wanted to answer your questions.

It strikes him that every single time you have demanded he wait, he did it without question.

You wouldn't be the first to manipulate him—there are still stains of blood on the floor here from the last time a victim deceived him, desecrating his mother's memory in the process—but you are the first to have the opportunity to do it over a span of time. If manipulating him is what you're doing at all. He can't tell, which is the point, and it frustrates him. How could it be anything else, though? Because just like with the questions, with the waiting, he wants to hear you continue that story. He wants to talk to you. He wants to see you again.

From where he sits, miles and miles away from where he left you, he can feel your presence. It's a sense gifted to him by this second life, this ability to know when his territory has been invaded. He tracks his victims by it, honing in on each individual presence until they are snuffed out. At this distance, he is aware of you, but passively. A caress on the back of his mind that is becoming all too familiar. His sense of you draws him in a different way than the others—he just wants to be closer.

Are you aware of what you're doing to him? Talking kindly to him, giving him gifts, in the hopes that he will care enough to continue to spare your life? And, worse than that, are you aware that it's working?

Jason lifts his mask and tears into the bread-croissant with his teeth and swallows it. It's harder than he remembers bread being, but the softer inside melts where it touches his tongue, tasting of butter. He prefers meat, but even in the midst of this newest crisis, he has to admit that it does taste…good. The most incredible thing you've had since you got here, though? You clearly haven't had the long, sweet berries that grow on the trees in his woods. They will be in season soon, maybe you would like—

He tamps down on the impulse with another bite, then a final one until all that's left is a million crumbling flakes in his lap and the towel the bread was wrapped in. He brushes the flakes off and he tries, he tries very hard, not to care that he's holding something you touched. He'll just put it in his pocket and leave it outside your door the next time he's in the area. He'll just put it in his pocket and leave it outside your door, and then he'll pet Heracles, and then you will say something new that draws him in, and he will stay longer than he meant to, and you'll get your talons further in, and—

The smart thing to do is throw the rag into a corner of his house and leave it to rot. Or maybe he can tear it into strips to make new wicks for the candles on mother's shrine. Maybe he'll carry it on him for a while longer, so he can shove it into a victim's mouth when their screaming can't be silenced by his machete quick enough.

But rather than do any of that, Jason carefully spreads the cloth over his palm. Then he removes the glove on his other hand, lets it fall to the ground while he touches his fingertips to the soft, clean material. His stomach feels tight, and his jaw clenches. He brings the material to his mouth and presses it to his lips, bunched up under his nose, and he breathes it in. Your hands were on this, however briefly, and through the scent of bread and soap, he tries to get the scent that is just yours. His tongue drags against the cloth, just once, as if he could taste you.

He feels himself stirring, stiffening, and he tears the cloth away, frustrated and disgusted with himself. None of that, not because of you, not because of anyone. He'll return the towel and stand in the rain and remove all vestiges of your influence on him.

Jason stands, his breathing the loudest thing within the walls of the house, and shoves the cloth into his pocket. But not before he rubs it between his bare fingers, just one last time, and spells the letters of your name against it.

[chaos0pikachu]

Man, I hope the emoji guy in the posters of the sitcom Bible is gonna play in IS Jes, because I think Bible is gonna be a cringe fail nerd who tries to be cool: one poster has him a pilot* costume, the other him in glasses with a handheld game console looking excited... with his zipper undone, and I need them to play another cringefail couple, 4 Minutes can NOT be the end of them together.

* As someone who works in an airport and so encounters pilots frequently, they are pretty ordinary and kinda boring. Cabin CREWS on the other hand... I never encountered a flight attendant I didn't wanna kiss, tbh

I've heard - but this isn't confirmed just like something I read on twitter so huge grain of salt - that BOC hadn't officially cast anyone for that sitcom role so the guy was just a stand-in.

I COULD speculate that the guy is/was Jes b/c this was - I think? - before he was officially announced as part of BOC/cast in 4Mins.

But don't quote me on that I'd have to check the dates lol

Idk if I'll watch b/c honestly comedy isn't my thing but I do love that BOC continues to try a wide variety of series, so I love the idea of a sitcom/comedy show for the studio (especially with their new actresses KT is so crush worthy man have y'all seen her kickboxing videos? whew) plus it'll be cool to see Bible further stretch his acting muscles. Comedy will be totally new for him which makes me really excited for him as an actor.

I would love to see Jes and Bible work together again, I know they were asked about it in an interview if they could do another series together what they'd like to do:

In the same interview they elaborate; Bible said he think Jes would play a great villainous char so he'd want to see that, while Jes said something with race cars b/c Bible loves F1.

Idk if Jes is ~officially~ apart of BOC on his Insta he does have BOC listed as his work contact so there's that. But I know he's still working with One31.

Personally I like the idea of the BOC actors doing both but I also dislike studio systems along with this idea that BL series are "lesser than" lakorns (this attitude is prevalent in western fandom too stop it please).

Either way I'd love to see them in a new series together, they're both strong actors and acting against Jes made Bible better.

My dream series from BOC would be a fantasy series, since they're the only Thai studio I could see investing money in such a project - Idol Factory came close with The Sign and I adore The Sign but it was half fantasy still great tho!

That or an assassins show cause I can already tell The Heart Killers is more squeecore/romcom than true blue assassins/hired killers and I have no interest in that.

Also for folks who may have missed it/need a reminder here's the announcement about said sitcom:

sidenote as someone who travels a lot for work that tidbit about pilots/flight crew is AMAZING thank you for that

[super-weed-ninja]

For a little over a year now I've been slowly amassing a collection of ninja turtle books and I wanna talk about some of them. Picture books, joke books, novelizations, coloring and activity books... For all different iterations and all different reading levels.

Well ok they are pretty much just kids books let's be real, but some of them are really great and it's nice to see some new adventures. I've loved ninja turtles for as long as I can remember. Watched the '80s cartoon when I was young, read the comics, caught '03 in it's first season and was hooked immediately, and have pretty well kept up with everything since, with the exception of IDW (SOON.) These books have given me a new appreciation to the TMNT.

At first I just wanted to get my hands on some '03 books, but I was at the same time falling back in love with the '87 show, and books related to that series ended up being a lot easier to find. There's new adventures, some adapted episodes of the cartoon, some from Archie comics...

A rap song to fight drugs, and a little book adapting the first live action film with the '87 boys (Raphael defenestration and all, LOOK AT MY BOY THEY KILLED HIM)

I wasn't really planning to get so many, but THESE 4 delightful books really had an effect on me.

I'll probably make another post just about these 4 books sometime because I have so much to say on them! There is such a charm about them and they've changed how I think about the '87 and Archie turtles. They also act as a prequel series to either! Each book focuses on a different turtle. You see them in some of their pre-series naivete, learning and exploring and joking around. It's really no surprise they're so good, given the author, Stephen Murphy, was a primary writer for TMNT Adventures (Archie) and Tales of the TMNT. '03 girlies, he co-authored "Sons of the Silent Age" in Mirage and was a writer for several '03 episodes!

Anyway, after reading these, I really started searching.

It's so interesting to me to read these characters in this form, from different authors with their own ideas about the turtles.

There's several unique stories in the '03 books, with wonderful illustrations. These goofballs just shine even in the silliest of the adventures. Stephen Murphy, again, shows up here as an author of '03 books. I really love how he writes the boys.

'12 tends to just be episode adaptations, although I haven't actually read the novels I have yet. '12 books have been pretty easy to find so they have not been high on my priority list, but I try to grab ones that look like unique tales!

Mikey's Nightwatcher Scrapbook was so adorable, one of my favorites! Newspaper clippings, date and time stamped sightings and attempts at catching/talking to the elusive Nightwatcher... It's very fun and endearing! The Rise novels are just retellings of episodes, but each story is told by a different character! It's not much, but it's a cute detail.

finding coloring books is HARD, and even harder is finding one that's not been used. The joke book is full of the most garbage jokes but I had some fun torturing friends with it. :3

The coloring books in particular I'd like to scan sometime to share. I remember seeing '03 coloring books around all the time while the show was running; now you're liable to find yourself in a bidding war for one! (against me)

These books have become so important to me and I wanna talk about them more so I might just start taking one every now and then and ranting about it in a post. I have about 80 various books now, and a decent list of more I'm on the hunt for.

[biomic]

Hi! I see a lot of screenshots and such from your blog for things like (I believe) Kamen Rider(?) I might be wrong please forgive me if so. I have always had a sort of vague interest in sentai media but never knew good hopping on points, do you have any personal recommendations for where an absolute beginner might jump in to watch shows like that?

if you're interested in tokusatsu, you can really start anywhere that looks cool or interesting to you! most seasons, aside from some anniversaries and the very rare sequel show, are pretty self-contained for the most part. diehard fans will make a big deal out of "good and bad starting points" but the truth is every show has been someone's first and hooked them on the genre, even the "bad" seasons (the poor quality of which is often exaggerated by fandom anyway) or the experimental entries not indicative of the wider franchise they're part of

but! if you want some real beginner friendly, you'll-probably-have-fun-with-this toku, my go-to recs for The Big Three™:

if you want to follow a team of heroes grow together as they fight evil in increasingly silly scenarios, super sentai's probably the series for you (and my favorite ^_^)

watch kiramager if you want a straightforward throwback to classic sentai. it's a back-to-basics season that gives you a good baseline of what sentai as a whole can be, while elevated enough by its stellar cast and infectious energy so as to never feel generic

shinkenger takes a more dramatic approach to the usual sentai formula, following a team of samurai recruited to serve under a lord who isn't telling them everything he knows. an incredibly stylish show that's almost sure to leave an impression

kamen rider began as a tragic hero, kidnapped by the villainous organization shocker and turned into a cyborg against his will, ultimately escaping and using his newfound abilities to put an end to their evil. since the original story, kamen rider has gone through a whole host of various different tones and storylines, arguably becoming the most versatile of the big franchises, though certain elements remain consistent like the near ever-present bug motif or our heroes using powers derived from evil for the sake of good

created in the wake of the 2011 tohoku earthquake disaster, kamen rider fourze was made with the goal to make children smile again, and that desire led to something really special. arguably The Power of Friendship™ show to end all others, and while its upbeat tone might not exactly be in line with Classic Kamen Rider™, it stands as a great entry point thanks to the passion behind it and its clear love for the genre

probably best experienced as blind as possible, kamen rider build is a rollercoaster of a series full of high stakes, mystery, intrigue, and Heated Drama Between Men™. if you want something more serialized that'll keep you on the edge of your seat throughout, build's one of the very best

i also wanna mention kamen rider gotchard, the currently airing series! we're only 8 episodes in at the time of this post, so you could catch up quick while still going through the backlog. very much a back-to-basics season, introducing pokemon-style creatures for our protagonists to catch in addition to the usual superheroics. it's been pretty cute so far :)

ultraman is a sci-fi series that typically follows a defense team created to defend the earth from aliens and kaiju, aided by the giant of light, ultraman. as opposed to the other two franchises where there's often a serial plot to follow and a centralized villain faction, ultra typically thrives with telling standalone sci-fi stories, usually aligning with a show's overarching theme and often compared to shows like star trek or the twilight zone, though recent seasons have been more willing to switch up the format

ultraman x is for anyone who's ever asked, "but... what if we could be friends with godzilla?" young XiO scientist daichi becomes bonded with the alien ultraman x and work together to protect the earth and fight for a future where humans, aliens, and kaiju can coexist. to me this is like, the platonic ideal of what ultraman is, and a perfect starting point because of it. also features several crossover episodes with past ultra seasons throughout the show, but it's all still very new-viewer friendly and could even entice you to check out some of those shows yourself!

ultraman orb, the 50th anniversary of the series, changes course by making the defense team a background component in favor of following amateur investigators and the mysterious, lone wanderer who's suddenly entered their lives (hint: he's ultraman). another iconic entry in the Heated Drama Between Men Cinematic Universe and a nice balance between ultra's classic status quo and a more modern ongoing narrative

i'd also be remiss not to mention the currently airing ultraman blazar, which i unfortunately have not been able to keep up with due to outside circumstances but have heard NOTHING but glowing praise for. it's simulcast on youtube every week with english subtitles AND an optional english dub!

pretty much all of these can be snagged over at nyaa(.)si, and x and orb can be watched legally over on tubitv(.)com!

[iamnotceleste]

And when you find everything you've looked for, I hope your love leads you back to my door

Series Masterlist: You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x YN Sage

Warning: Menstruation?

A/N: Can you guess what she wants to be when she grows up? I made her familiar with Blanca too. Don't blame me I'm on my period too. This is the longest I've written I think..As always feedback is appreciated!

Your school turned up with a new idea called Career Advice Session. Basically, they brought career experts to your school to have a one-o-one conversation with every student from grade 6 and up.

If you already have something in your mind and why you want to pursue that field then you can just tell them and they'll give out advices on how you can go that way step by step.

If you didn't know what you wanna do then they'll ask about your interests and suggest careers based on it.

You liked your schools initiative. It's a different and good approach for the students' future. And good thing, you also have something planned out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You grew up in Barcelona. You were born there. You went to primary school there. Being an only child, the friends you made were all you knew. If someone asked you, you would've never wanted to move from Barcelona. Ever.

You only moved to Madrid because of your papas job.

Your papa works in the aviation sector. When you were little, he once took you to Josep Tarradellas Barcelona-El Prat Airport, where he worked at that time.

He gave you an exclusive tour of the plane hangers. It was all so cool seeing the planes sleeping in their houses. Some still had work to do. Others probably going to be used as parts for making new aeroplanes.

You watched as the engineers and mechanics ran around. Making sure the plane is perfect to be flown next time.

Wright brothers invented the first aeroplane. It's so amazing to live long enough to see how far machines have evolved.

Not only commercial, you also saw smaller weird shaped planes that made very loud sounds when they flew. And they flew very very fast. Your papa said they're used by the air force.

It was a day that was deeply engraved in your memories.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's currently tiffin break. Your session will be next period. Honestly, you're kinda nervous. All sorts of thoughts are running in your head as you wash your hands in the school washroom.

"Oh no no no. Come on. Not now!" A distressed voice came from one of the stalls. You looked around to find which one.

You debated whether you should knock or not. Well, she did sound panicky. So you did.

Knock knock

"Um, occupied!"

"Yeah, I know. I just heard you panicking and are you okay?"

"Yeah! I'm alright! There's nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure? Do you need any help?"

"Uhh..My period arrived unannounced..And I don't have a pad on me."

"Oh! I have one. You can use it."

"Thank god. Think you can pass it to me under the door?"

It was one of those stalls where doors didn't reach the floor so you slid a pad under it.

You heard a sigh of relief.

After a minute an older girl emerged from the stall.

"Thank you so much! You're such a life saver."

"Don't mention it. Happy to help a girl out."

The girl smiled. "I'm Blanca."

"Nice to meet you. I'm YN."

"Nice to meet you too. You know I was so worried cause I have the career session next period and now the river decides to flow red."

You laughed. "Yeah just one of the perks of being a girl. I have my career session next period too."

Just then the bell rang.

"Oh well, now I guess. I've got to go. Bye."

"Yeah me too. Thanks again! Bye."

You both waved and parted your ways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrived to your designated room and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

"Hola."

"Hola. Come take a seat. You must be YN Sage. I'm Dr. Bernoulli."

"Thank you, Dr. Bernoulli."

"You're welcome. Now, let's start, shall we? First of all...Do you know what you want to be in the future or are you a bit confused?"

You think a little before answering.

"Yes. I think I know what I want to be."

[fuckyeahisawthat]

So I'm still super obsessed with your take that Paul's visions are an "inversion" of reality and there's one that my brain is vibrating about in particular. In part 1 there's that one shot of him and Chani (and a couple others I think but it's not clear who they are) on a ship about to land (on Caladan?), with Paul in front and Chani standing behind him.

Now maybe I'm reading too much into this or taking it too literally, but for the most part the visions that are the most obviously "inverted" were the ones concerning the two of them, so I'm wondering what your take on that particular vision might be? Could it be she's actually in front with him behind her? Which seems like an unimportant detail but there could be some deeper layer there perhaps?? idk my brain is buzzing about it and I wanna know if you have Thoughts

Heyyyy. To be fair I'm not the first person to notice the thing about Paul and Chani's positions switching in his visions; I think I first saw that on Twitter. But ooh yes let's talk about that vision.

I'm assuming you mean this series of shots, from the visions Paul has in the tent after the attack on Arrakeen:

I don't think them switching places is going to be a one-to-one thing that happens every time Paul sees them together in a vision. But there is a lot of interesting stuff to talk about here. Chani wearing black--the color of power and empire--dressed to match Paul, standing at his right hand with no Irulan in sight. Chani gazing haughtily down at Paul's followers in a way it is hard to imagine the real Chani doing. Chani seeming entirely okay with this situation.

This makes me think that this is either a possible future where she has come to accept what Paul is doing, or a future where she is pretending to accept what he is doing for reasons of her own. But, as with all Paul's visions, we don't know if this is the future. (For one, the flags are different than the ones we see at the end of Part Two; they're the traditional Atreides green, white and black instead of the red and tan Desert Power Edition.) We don't know what else Paul sees once he drinks the Water of Life, but this could certainly be a possibility for "She'll come to understand, I've seen it."

While I was watching back through this series of visions I noticed another interesting thing. In Part One, there are multiple shots where we are following Chani walking through the desert, wearing a long white dress with her hair blowing in the wind. But in Part Two, Jessica is the figure in white that Paul is following. (I also think there is at least one shot where the person in white is so backlit/out of focus that we can't tell who it is.) We also have these parallel scenes of Paul in a tent in distress over a vision: Paul seeing the vision of following Chani while Jessica is there trying to comfort him, and later in Part Two, Paul describing the nightmare/vision of following Jessica to Chani as she tries to comfort him.

The metaphor here I think is a bit more obvious--Chani and Jessica represent two opposite paths Paul could take, either embracing the prophecy or rejecting it. But it's interesting to see them connected or superimposed on each other through the visions this way. In the vision in Part One, Jessica even speaks through (or over) Chani; we see Chani say "Paul" in the same urgent way Jessica is saying it in real life.

What does all this mean? Once again, we don't know! Chani is a phantasm at this point in Part One; Paul has not actually met her in real life so it's not clear if the Chani in his visions represents an actual possible future for the real Chani, or if she operates as more of a symbol or a projection of things in his own head. I think the intent is to keep us guessing by having the visions function in different ways--some are the future, some are a version of the future but twisted, and some are metaphors or warnings, and we often don't know in advance which is which. But I'll be super curious to see if some version of this scene comes back in Dune Messiah.

[timona-lisa]

Welp, I finally finished watching the Timon and Pumbaa series and all in all, I really liked it. While it does have its flaws, it reminds me a lot of Animaniacs and it's a pretty fun ride. I love the theory that the whole show is basically a fever dream from a weird bug they ate (or possibly Rafiki's fanfic), it explains so much. The animation quality varies but when it's good, it's beautiful. Beethoven's Whiff and Bumble in the Jungle and The Sky is Calling? Great stuff. Honestly, The Sky is Calling might be my favorite episode, it's so silly and sweet.

The writing is also hilarious, though I can see why it's not everybody's cup of tea. There's a lot of high energy and slapstick and breaking the fourth wall and again, I'm a big Animaniacs and Looney Tunes fan and I genuinely love that stuff but to each their own. Some moments had me screaming and I can't give enough kudos to the voice cast, they're so amazing and giving it their all.

The heart of the show really is Timon and Pumbaa's relationship, though. As much as they bicker and have their misunderstandings, I love how soft and loyal and ride or die they are. Every time they reunited or gave a speech about how much the other meant to them-- (clutches heart) They're unironically one of my favorite Disney couples, even if the mouse is too cowardly to confirm it.

(AND NOW FOR THE FLAWS SECTION, I GOTTA RAMBLE ABOUT A COUPLE THINGS)

I feel like I gotta talk about Timon's characterization. Not gonna sugarcoat it, he can be an ASSHOLE in some episodes and while he (usually) learns a lesson, sometimes the show just lets him get away with it and yeahhh…I can see why that's a breaking point for some fans. Rafiki even called him a meerkat brat in one episode and I was like, "Well, he's not wrong." I guess it depends on your mood and how much you're willing to deal with his shtick for comedy and plot reasons. I definitely prefer his personality in the movies but there were enough funny and wholesome moments to keep him from being completely awful.

Another issue is the way they write women in the show. Aside from Shenzi and a couple others, they're mostly one-note and it makes me sad. I realize it's a comedy and it's not that deep but Animaniacs had Dot, Slappy, Rita, Hello Nurse, Minerva, Marita, Nora, Julia, etc. Not to mention, all the other iconic ladies from the Disney Afternoon lineup.

I know fandom loves to dunk on female characters (especially if they're love interests) and I don't wanna add to that dumpster fire but unfortunately, Timon and Pumbaa's love interests were pretty bland. Sharla had a couple funny moments but Tatiana was more of a plot device than a character. She had about three lines and the way they treated her like a prize to be won was just yikes. The episode Lights, Camera, Traction gave me secondhand embarrassment as well. Timon basically spends the whole time trying to get a kiss from a female meerkat (who doesn't even have a name) and he kinda comes off like Phil from Hercules and it's really…ew.

It's disappointing because in the end, it felt like they were only there because somebody in the writer's room or maybe a higher-up said, "THIS SHOW'S GETTING TOO FRUITY. LET'S GIVE THEM SOME GIRLS." It's some heterononsense, I tell ya. I'm glad that there's more variety in The Lion Guard anyway, even if it does fall into some of the same patterns. (Bunga and Binga? Really?)

Aside from that, though, it's not a bad show for what it is. It's a lot of fun and chaotic and heartwarming at times and if you're looking for something zany and unserious, I would still recommend it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wallflower 44 (Ending 2)

Warnings: age gap, creepin’, slow burn, stepdad-adjacent, possible noncon/dubcon, abuse, violence, self-harm, manipulation, panic attack, dissociation, gaslighting, miscarriage.

Character: silverfox!Thor

Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her.

Note: let me know if you want a loki ending and I'lldo one if I get a decent response.

<3 Another erratic drabble series. Appreciate any and all feedback. Love you all. And I didn’t expect this chapter to go this way or to be a bit longer than usual.

You stare at the bottle of the pills. 'Take these until they're all done, until it passes.' When the doctor told you what was happening to you, you didn't belive him.

It couldn't be. It. A baby. Was anyhow. Now, a miscarriage. There's no way you could be pregnant. Or could have been.

You stand in the sterile hallways. The bustle of the hospital rushes around you. The doctors and nurses are onto their next patients. You're forgotten, just like you always were.

A shiver runs through you as your mind echoes the soft noise of water, the ripples rolling from the plunge of his hand, his fingers between your legs, the sensation bubbling in you. What he told you never happened. What you never knew he did.

You take a breath and hide the pills you have to go. You want it to end. You want to leave this place and act like you were never here.

You follow the signs to the waiting room and find Thrud in a chair, elbow on the armrest, head tilted against it. As you approach she looks up and yawns. She gives a gentle smile.

"You're okay?" She stands. 

You nod. She stares at you. Expectant. Waiting for you to say more.

"So?" She prompts.

"We can go."

Her face falls, "that it? You're not going to tell what's wrong?"

"Anemic," you lie, "it's why I'm bleeding so heavy. Said I have to take pills are whatever."

"Oh. Okay, my mom had that after she got her IUD out," she says, reaching to gently touch your shoulder, "I'm glad it wasn't anything serious."

"Me too," you force a smile, "I just wanna get home and sleep."

"Yeah, mood," she sighs and jingles her keys, "we'll take it easy tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me," you walk with her towards the doors.

You can't tell her the truth. It doesn't matter. Even if she believed you, even if you could prove any of it. It's not a big deal. Besides, you should tell him first. The father. Her father.

🌻

Thrud falls asleep first. You knew she would. You're wide awake despite the frailness in your bones, the draining suck on your energy as you feel the life bleeding from you. You wait until she's snoring to move, slowly, watching her closely.

You get out of the bed and cross the room on your toes. You go into the bathroom and take out the bottle of pills from behind the toilet where you hid them. You put them back in your pocket and sidle you.

You slip on your sandals and creep through the shadows. You let yourself out the front door, shutting it carefully behind you. It's eerily dark as you descend the steps to even ground.

You watch the moon, finding your way to the villa not far from Thrud's. Your stomach churns as you look at the dark windows. You're not their for a fight, you have none left. You're there for the truth. For an end.

Your mother was always right. You're nothing more than a burden, but Thor was the only person to ever make you feel like you weren't. 

You climb onto the porch and knock. You wait out there, alone, a breeze swirling around you. You raise your hand to knock again but the door opens, just a crack as an umbrous figure looks out at you.

"Kitten," Thor's voice grits in his throat as he flicks on the indoor light, illuminating his large figure as he lets the door open further, "what are you–"

You hold up a finger against your lips. His brow furrows and he snaps his mouth shut. His confusion is obvious as he watches you speechlessly.

He nods and steps back, waving you inside. You trake the wordless invitation and enter. He shuts the door and trails you. 

You glance around. Theres is no good place to do this. There is no good way to say it.

You face him and take a breath.

"I just got back from the hospital," you state flatly.

"The hosp–"

You show your palm, begging. You need him to let you speak. He quiets and bows his head, eyes boring into you.

You pick your lip, searching for an explanation. You don't want to go over it all again; the bleeding, the pain, the fear, the exam, the doctor.

"I lost our baby," the words tumble out and stiff silence rises between you.

"That– that isn't–"

"I'm not mad."

"Kitten, I didn't."

"Thor," you say crisply, "I said I'm not mad. I'll only be mad if you keep lying to me."

He presses his lips together. His throat constricts. A tinge of red touches his cheeks. He drops his head and pushes back his silver hair from his face.

He comes close and offers his hand. You take it and let him guide you through the archway to the sitting room. He leads you to the couch and lowers you with him.

"I… it is only because I love you," he says, "I never meant to hurt you–"

Your throat locks up so tight and your eyes sting. You put your other hand over his knuckles and squeeze. You suck in a breath sharply. 

You can't go back to your mother and you never could be on your own. 

"If…" you begin. "If I hadn't lost it…" you choke, grip tightening on his hand as you tremble, "would you have taken care of it? The baby?"

"Of course, kitten, of course," he chants as he lifts his head, "I would. I would. I only ever wanted to take care of you. It's all I've ever done."

You meet his gaze. His eyes are blue and misty. You're not really sad about the baby but he is. You see the pain in him. You feel it.

"Promise?"

"I swear," he quavers.

"Okay."

"Okay?" His eyes are wide and afraid.  

He's scared of losing you. Someone like him, someone so big, so strong, is scared. Because of you. He wants you. No one's ever wanted you.

"Next time," your voice rises thin and quaky, "I want to be awake. I want to… feel you. I want to feel your love."

He brings his hand to your chin, "I should've never…"

"You never asked," you whisper.

He quiets. He dips his chin and slides his hand around your neck and pulls you into his embrace. He nestles you against his chest. You grab onto his shirt, clinging tight, and let the world roll over you.

You sob as his other hand untangles from yours. He rubs your back as your tears spill out. Tears you can't hold back or claim. Tears of anger, grief, fear, helplessness. Tears of surrender.

"You're okay, kitten," he coos, "we will know next time. We will be better, won't we?"

You clasp onto him. Next time? If that's what he wants. If that's what you have to do. You'll be whatever he wants you be, as long as he wants you.