#also you know how eggs may punch the adults to get them to read their signs?

[pixelcubito]

I feel a strong urge to share this...a screenshot isn't enough.

[yinses]

relationship headcanons

gojo satoru x instructor!reader

rating: t

a/n: we all obsess over gojo, now it’s time for him to simp over you

— you’re a teacher over at the sister school and have been rivals with gojo since before your own graduation. you’ve come close but have never bested him, so you’ve put all your frustration into raising the next generation of sorcerers to be stronger than his class ( and ofc to take out curses)

it’s all seriousness for you but fun and games for gojo. not everyone simps for him, believe it or not. the man is challenged on the daily but it’s less of an annoyance when it’s you. maybe because you don’t call him out for it. there is no boisterous demand for a showdown or obsessive rivalry. you bide your time and out your efforts into your students where it matters the most.

he can tell you want to make a bigger point. that the entire jujusu kaisen institution doesn’t need to rely on him to solve their problems. you truly believe that you can bring stronger comrades to the table. the goal of besting him was just a side objective

— you’re attractive. he’s attractive. there is no denying it. maybe under different circumstances he might have already taken you to bed by now but the chase is more thrilling. he’s known you for over a decade now but he doesn’t know the intimacies of your past. it’s a gamble how many people you’ve dated or what your experiences are like, but he does know he definitely has a chance.

the sexual tension is always there. more prominent for gojo because honestly he finds you determination so fucking sexy. the man is dominant but to be pinned down by your thighs ascends him. he has your number and is never not in your inbox. you rarely respond but he knows you read them, especially since he squeezes little updates about his class progress in between romantic poem quotes and blasts from the past.

you never answer his facetime calls but occasionally you’ll indulge a regular call, if only to voice appease him enough to stop him from filling your voicemail box. as you’re preparing dinner in your kitchen, he’s going on and on about little things that shouldn’t matter. but he doesn’t really have anyone else and it shows.

the man is an open book. confessing sprinkles of his frustrations around jesting stories about his cute little students and the bakery he now coined his favorite just two kilometers from his house.

sometimes he reminisces about school. about how visiting the sister school to see you was his favorite part of the semester. but he also delves into his own small class and how he misses the shenanigans the use to raise yaga’s blood pressure frequently. sure shoko is still here but geto- fuck, the guilt cracks in his voice. you don’t say anything still, what could you anyway to a man you shouldn’t adore baring his soul to you? but before a decision can come to head he’s swapped back to his usual self.

‘so that bakery has this delicious tiramisu. why don’t you let me eat it off of you one of these days? i love dessert in bed.’

across the city, gojo smiles so hard his cheeks sting when you hang up on him, shoulders more at ease than they’ve been in days.

— he never shows up for his meetings with yaga, god forbid there be a special invite from the croaking old bastard. but fuck- if you’re there? the man is on time just so he can secure a seat next to you.

you know this guy manspreads. thighs wide enough to align them with yours. you’re not jumpy, reading easily between the lines as you give him a curt glance from the corner of your eye. it’s a useless scold, because you only recieve a cocky grin.

god and does it egg him on. this man feeds on crumbs of your attention. his arm lounging comfortably along the back of the couch, fingertips dancing along the edge of your shoulder and tickling the collar of your neck.

it’s the fact that you’re consensual to it all that keeps him going. sure you bite back and huff with your cute little irritated pout- but you never say no. and that’s all the fuel he needs.

he can hear everyone just fine- like they’re sitting right there. but catch him leaning close, shoulders knocking together while he whispers in your ear. he’ll ask you to repeat things he definitely did not miss. ask you to explain things he obviously comprehends. you roll your eyes but coddle him anyway if only to cure your own boredom.

bonus: off to the side, miwa watches the two adults conspiring, foreheads just a breath away from tapping. she’s rooting for gojo if only for the benefit of seeing him around more. she’s been wanting to ask you to invite gojo-sensei to guest speak for months.

— fighting with you is basically foreplay. he’s never been so intimate with his infinity, absorbing every punch and jab. not enough to hurt terribly , but it’s physical contact from you and he won’t pass it up.

he’s supposed to be showing off for his students. itadori, his biggest fan, front and center as his own personal cheering squad. he can beat you but not demolish. you actually bring a challenge, which is why the two of you are often a treat at the exchange event.

gojo wants nothing more than to pin you down when the two of you grapple close for comfort. he knows he can get away with a nice hard grind or two, even thinks you’ll let him.

but his inner thoughts are his own downfall when you manage to get on top instead. not that he’s complaining. his infinity is strapped tight to his body, just barely keeping you at bay as you try to force your limbs to keep him in place.

this is bad. so bad because you’re leaning close- the hair from your sloppy bun whispering at his cheek. and your face is right there, near enough that he could flinch and you would be touching.

it’s entirely too intimate for a fight between instructors at a public event but damn he’s willing to let his guard down. besides what the fuck is he supposed to do when he can feel your mouth moving against the barrier.

‘is this how our first kiss is going to be? just you, me and the infinity?’

jesus fucking christ if you thought he was strong enough for that. it may as well be ‘pass go’ for gojo. because one second you’re held up by the invisible void and the next you’re tasting something sweet.

he’d just eaten a pack of chocolate covered cherries.

[brawltogethernow]

@mirrorfalls​ submitted: Came across this while searching for James Bond’s scrambled-eggs recipe (long story). Your thoughts?

~~

But did you find James Bond’s scrambled eggs recipe?

In this article, Scocca laments his inability to find accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable to read with his young son, while also demonstrating a mysterious aversion to looking at DC and Marvel’s lines of comics for children, which is where the accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable for reading with young children are. He wants his elementary schooler to be able to safely have the run of all superhero media so he doesn’t have to touch the yucky baby books.

This is not an industry-wide crisis. This is just one dude who got paid to write an article where he accidentally exposed one of his personal hangups.

The child headed toward the trade paperbacks of Marvel and D.C. superhero titles on the side wall […] a few steps in front of me. […] Is he with you? a clerk asked me. I said he was. You know, the clerk said, we have a kids’ section. The clerk gestured backward, at a few shelves near the entrance. I said, Thanks, we know and tried throwing in a little shrug, as the kid kept going.

You can’t just turn a seven-year-old child loose in a comic-book store to look at the superhero comic books. […] My seven-year-old really wanted to see that last Avengers movie […] that is, he wished it were a movie he could see, but he understood that it was, instead, a movie designed to scare and sadden him—a movie actively hostile to people like him.

They have a children’s section. Because comics are a medium suitable for stories for everybody, and they are sold in comic book shops, which have sections, like bookstores. You can use this organization to find books that you know in advance are suitable for children. What goes in that category is determined by industry professionals. This area will be bigger the bigger the shop is. These comics are not lower quality that titles from the main lines. They are actually slightly better-written on average.

Your local comic book shop has considerately wrapped Empowered in a plastic bag, so your child will not be drawn in by a colorful superhero and accidentally read a graphic scene. If you think your kid might find a memoir about internment camps upsetting, it is your job to notice them picking up They Called Us Enemy and read the blurb on the back before you let them have it. This comic adults are meant to read is in a comic book shop because that is where comics are sold. Not every public place is supposed to be Disneyland.

Movies have ratings systems. If you do not want your child to watch a PG-13 movie, you will find that most superhero cartoons are for children. They are about the same characters. Some are quite good! I really enjoyed Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Your child may like Avengers Assemble. At least I think that’s right. I’m always mixing those titles around.

This is a deeply weird bias for Scocca to casually demonstrate, because he identifies in the article that real childishness is striving for empty maturity.

He compares an old comic,

[…]a 1966 Spider-Man comic in which Spider-Man meets, fights, and defeats the Rhino; participates in a running argument between John Jameson and J. Jonah Jameson about his heroism; buys a motorcycle; breaks up with his first girlfriend, Betty Brant; flirts with Gwen Stacy; and reluctantly agrees to let Aunt May take him to meet her friend Mrs. Watson’s niece, Mary Jane.

and a new comic,

[…]a 21st century comic book in which Thor, brooding in a Katrina-destroyed New Orleans, beats up Iron Man. He also yells at Iron Man a lot about some incomprehensibly convoluted set of grievances, including involuntary cloning, that he believes Iron Man perpetrated against him while he was dead(?), and then summons some other Norse god from the beyond somehow for reasons having something to do with real estate. I think. Where the 1966 comic is zippy and fun and complete, the whole contemporary one is muddled and lugubrious and seems to constitute a tiny piece of a seemingly endless plot arc—simultaneously apocalyptic and inert.

and concludes that the edgier comic is actually less mature. This is true. (This is not news about mediocre comics.)

It also has nothing to do with either comic being child-friendly, the article’s nominal thesis, except in the sense that ASM #41 (yes, I eyeballed that from that summary, yes I am just showing off now) is better written, making it more everyone-friendly. It also has practically more space dedicated to word balloons than art and is about a college student juggling girl problems and a part-time job with a tyrannical boss. But the immature one, as Scocca points out, is dour.

These are both teenagery issues, separated only by quality. It’s true that lots of new comics published by the big 2 are bad in the specific way Scocca describes here, taking themselves too seriously and hauled down by associated stories instead of buoyed by them. Some are not! Some titles from these companies’ main continuities are zippy, contained, and child friendly. Give your child The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl! Or if you like vintage comics so much better, why don’t you…buy some?

The books on the kid’s rack are good and fun and totally suitable for parents to read with their children without wanting to scoop their eyeballs out. Scocca cites the Batman ‘66 comics as the brightly colored, tightly written all ages solution to his problem about sharing superhero stories with his son. My local comic shop stores this title in the kid’s section. I am glad that Scocca’s does not, as he seems to have a peculiar aversion to looking for comics to read with his son there.

Scocca cites Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as a superhero movie he could watch with his kids. (I was surprised when this line made it sound like he has several. I don’t want to assume the other one isn’t in this article because they’re a girl, but I very much am assuming that.) Great! Go to the kid’s section and look for Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man. It’s a fun, zippy title directly inspired by ITSV where Miles, Gwen, and Peter superhero together. It’s much more tightly written than most of the various Spider-Verse comics, which are ambitiously messy ubercrossovers. You may not want to give those to children because they include murder and so on, but also you just have the choice between the two as an adult reader deciding how much continuity you want to deal with. Adventures is one of the only titles I would buy on sight before corona. The kid comic rack is a reliable place to take a break from How Comics Get Sometimes regardless of how old you are.

This article makes me feel quarrelsome. Maybe it’s that it doesn’t seem like exploration of a single idea so much as a loosely grouped bundle of things to kvetch about. Maybe it’s that the experience of getting into superheroes that Scocca describes experiencing, projects his seven-year-old son will experience, and from which he extrapolates a metaphorical microcosm of the history of the genre is completely alien to me.

Comic books [and] comic-book movies—are […] trapped in their imagined audience’s own awful passage from childhood to adolescence. A seven-year-old has a clean […] appreciation of superheroes. They like hero comics because the comics have heroes: bold, strong, vividly colored good guys to fight off the bad guys and make the world safe.

But seven-year-olds stop being seven. […] They become 13-year-olds, defensively trying to learn how to develop tastes about tastes.

The 13-year-old wants many things from comics, but the overarching one is that they want to prove that they’re not some seven-year-old baby anymore. They want gloomy heroes, miserable heroes, heroes who would make a seven-year-old feel bad. (Also boobs. They want boobs.)

Not because of the boobs line, although that does illicit an eyeroll that this gloomy thinkpiece is fretting over preserving the superhero experience of little boys who resemble the little boy the writer was while casually dismissing everyone else. I was one of those unlikable little seven-year-olds with a college reading level and the impression that maintaining it was the crux of my worth. I only read Books - distinguished media you could club someone with. I have a formative memory of pausing, enraptured, in front of a poster for Spider-Man 3, preparing to say that it looked pretty cool, and being beaten to the punch by my mother making a disparaging comment about how the movie was trash. It wasn’t out yet, but it was a superhero movie. That meant it was for loud, brainless children.

That was the total of my childhood experience with superheroes, excluding being the unwilling audience to incessant renditions of “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells” that left me wondering why in god’s name Batman’s sidekick was named Robin. I certainly never visited a comic book shop. I got into TvTropes, which got me into webcomics, which got me following David Willis, who got me into Ask Chris at ComicsAlliance, which led to me rewarding myself for studying like a demon for the AP tests with three volumes of Waid’s Daredevil, pitched as a return to the character being colorful and swashbuckling. I was seven…teen.

This is of the same thread as Scocca’s point that immaturity is running from childish things. It leaves me baffled that he doesn’t follow that maturity is embracing them.

I will disclose here that while I think it was dumb I had to overcome my upbringing’s deeply embedded shame associated with enjoying arbitrarily defined lowbrow media and children being childish, I think it’s fine that I was allowed largely unchecked access to technically age-inappropriate content. In my limited experience, content small children are too young for is also content they’re too young to understand, so it kind of just bounces off of them, and what actually ends up terrorizing them is unpredictable collages of impressions that strike out at them from content deemed perfectly child-friendly. I would not forbid a seven-year-old I was in charge of from seeing an MCU movie unless I had a reason to believe that specific child would not take it well. These are emotionally low-stakes bubblegum films. It will probably be easier to socialize with other kids if they have seen them.

But then, when I picture being in charge of a hypothetical child, I usually imagine this being the case because they are related to me, and the pupal stage in my family strongly resembles Wednesday Addams. ALL children love death and violence, though, right?? This isn’t a joke point. I know it looks like a joke point.

The MCU thing seems especially weird in light of the article’s particular focus on Spider-Man, which is the kiddie line of the MCU, even if they refused to waver from their usual formula enough to get a lower rating. Though I am more inclined to describe it as “preying on the young” than “child-friendly”.

(MCU movies are increasingly dubious propaganda, but I would not judge them in front of a child who wanted to watch them for that reason, just in case this led to them partaking of them without me the second they were old enough to and then they grew up to run a blog about them while our relationship suffered because they didn’t feel like it was safe to talk to me about their interests…Mom.)

I tried to overcome the philosophy of letting anyone read anything while compiling this handful of mostly-newish superhero recs for the road that anyone can read. (Handily, I have been in spitting distance of being hired as a comic shop clerk enough to have thought about it before):

For actual children:

Marvel Adventures Spider-Man (the new one is reminiscent of ITSV, the old one is more like 616) any DC/Archie crossover, Archie’s Superteens The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (for bookish children who think they’re too good for comics and adults afraid of the kid’s section) Teen Titans Go (even if you hate the show) Superman Smashes the Klan

For teens:

Ms. Marvel Young Avengers (volume 2) Unbelievable Gwenpool Batman: Gotham Adventures Teen Titans Go (the tie-in comic based off the old show was also called this)

Here are a bunch of relevant C. S. Lewis quotes.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 6

First

Previous

Marinette woke up because of a whack to the face. So that was fun.

She blinked her eyes open and was met with a scowling, squirming baby.

She sighed and considered letting the baby squirm for a little so she could get another few minutes of sleep…

Oh. Right. He cried in the morning. An unfortunate thing to forget about.

She grumbled a quiet “fuck” as Damian started screaming.

“Tim, your turn.”

Tim grumbled incoherently and attempted to disappear in the plush mattress.

She considered kicking him to wake him up but decided against it. She was feeling nice that morning.

(Also, she figured that kicking a half-awake vigilante might end badly for her.)

She shrugged Tim’s arm off and then tumbled out of bed, baby securely wrapped in her arms. She laid flat on the ground, baby raised in the air above her like a less cute version of That One Scene from The Lion King. She squinted up at the screaming child, struggling to get her brain to function, and then sighed.

“Right, let’s get you all changed, huh? Clean diaper? Pretty new clothes? Will that calm you down?”

She really didn’t know why she was talking to him, she doubted the kid really understood what she was saying, but his wailing was starting to die down a little. She hoped it was because she was using her nice voice and not because he was straining his vocal cords.

She smoothed out his hair and then pushed herself to her feet.

After she had changed the kid’s diaper, she spread all of his clothes out on the floor in a loose circle (it kind of looked like an egg, but at least an attempt was made).

She set the baby down in the middle of the egg and stepped back.

He looked up at her, confused.

She motioned to the clothes. “Go ahead. Yakhtar.”

There was a few minutes where the baby continued looking at her, clearly expecting something but she had no clue what.

Then, finally, he looked around at the clothes.

He crawled over to a yellow shirt with a cartoon bee on it that she had paired with some black and white striped leggings and slapped it a few times. He babbled angrily at her.

… did that mean he wanted it or that it was out of the running?

… she was going to assume that he wanted it.

She picked up him with one arm and the outfit with the other -- something made very difficult by the fact that Damian was now slapping his little fists against her shoulder in an attempt to be let down -- and then started the process of getting the kid into the clothes.

“You know, he probably would have been fine with anything you picked.”

She glanced up from where she was trying to shove Damian’s pudgy little baby arm into a sleeve. Tim was sitting up in bed, legs crossed criss-cross applesauce and head propped on his hand. An amused smile played at his lips.

She rolled her eyes and looked back down at Damian so she could complete her grueling task. “Probably. But I’d just keep dressing him up in red and black and, apparently, he doesn’t want that.”

“Don’t know why. Red and black are objectively the best colors.”

“Totally,” she said.

Damian babbled angrily some more and attempted to punch her arm. She tried not to show on her face just how much it had hurt.

“I guess yellow is pretty okay,” Tim said, grinning.

“Eh. Yellow is like… the fifth best color. Green is where it’s at.”

Tim made a face. “Ew. Green?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not allowed to talk about what looks good. You had a completely brown suit for ages. Terrible, isn’t that right, Dami?”

Damian clearly had no idea what was going on, he was busy trying to help Marinette pull his pants up (he was accidentally pushing them down but it was the thought that counts… she was pretty sure, at least), but he nodded decisively.

Marinette turned her head away from Tim and Damian, lips pressed together thinly to keep her laughter under control, before she turned back and finished the kid’s outfit.

“See, Tim, even the baby agrees.”

Tim scoffed. “He agrees with everything you say.”

“Because I’m always right.” She leaned forward to nuzzle her nose against Damian’s with a bright smile. “I can already tell you’re going to be the best kid. Isn’t that right?”

Damian giggled.

~

Tim held the baby as they checked out at 10:55. Usually, he would try to be earlier, but… baby.

Yeah. That was all he needed to say about that.

(If you want to know: Damian had finally managed to succeed in his attempts to fall from a high place, effectively scaring the shit out of both of the teens who were taking care of him. They’d checked him over for any injuries -- it was more difficult than usual, they couldn’t tell him to clench and unclench his fists to make sure they weren’t broken. When they were sure he was okay they took a few moments to hug him and assure themselves that it was fine and that babies were flexible for this exact reason… unfortunately, this ended with the kid learning that falling from high places=hugs and was now, somehow, even more determined to do it.)

Marinette turned to him with a smile.

“Do you want to get the car or do you want to get the baby’s carseat?”

Tim thought for a minute before sighing. “Would you make fun of me if I picked out a stupid-looking carseat?”

“Absolutely.”

He rolled his eyes and handed off the baby like he was a baton in a very weird relay race. “No thanks. I’ll get the car.”

She grinned. “Probably a good idea. Right, see you.”

“Get some baby formula while you’re out.”

Marinette looked down at the kid, eyes wide. “Still?” Then she shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

He tossed the bag of diapers and stuff to her and, with that, they started off in separate directions.

He picked up a rental car from Enterprise. They offered the ability to pay a little extra to leave the car at another location. He doubted that that was in place for things like moving across the country but he wasn’t about to complain.

But, when he picked up Marinette and Damian outside the door and caught sight of the carseat she’d gotten, he absolutely would complain.

“Spiderman?” He said.

“Technically, he’s ArachnidKid, here.”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.

She had the decency to look a little sheepish. “He screamed every time I tried to choose anything else.”

Tim sighed and knocked his head against the top of the steering wheel a few times before turning around.

“I’ll deal with the kid while you figure out the thing.”

… or, at least, that was the intention. It turns out that baby carseats are… difficult. They’d pulled into a spot and gave Damian his stuffed cow and a phone to distract him and they’d gotten to work. There were two adults and two magical beings trying to figure it out and not a single one of them had any idea what they were doing. The instructions made absolutely no sense, they may as well have been written in Greek -- except they all knew how to speak and read Greek because of magic. But this shit? Illegible. It was like the written version of baby language. No one knows what was going on, he was beginning to think that the people trying to give them instructions didn’t even know. Tikki was puzzling over the instructions despite this, Marinette was having a breakdown, Tim wanted to be back in his world so he could punch someone, Kaalki was in the process of being eaten by Damian. It was chaos.

~

They were on the road. Marinette lazed in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard as she half-listened to the audiobook Tim had put on -- something about a kid who stole lightning or something (she didn’t see the big deal, it wasn’t like it was hard or anything). Tikki and Kaalki were using her headphones to listen to music. Damian had fallen asleep and was now peacefully sucking on one of the horns of the cow plush.

(He’d, apparently, dubbed the plush ‘Cow’. It was a fitting name, she supposed.)

Tim glanced over at her. “If we get in a crash you’re going to fly through the windshield.”

She lifted the cheap heart-shaped sunglasses she’d bought on impulse while waiting for Tim to show up out of boredom. Just so he could see how unimpressed she was.

“Maybe you should drive well so I don’t have to worry.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. She saw the speedometer drop a bit regardless.

~

They stopped for food pretty soon after they started on the road. Funny how quickly a day could go by, it was already noon.

They ended up at Carl's Sr., because that was what they had found first.

He bounced Damian on one knee absently. The kid wasn’t thirsty, it seemed, so they were just trying to keep him entertained while they ate. He didn’t know why they bothered, the kid was currently entertaining himself with nothing but a rubber duck.

Marinette nibbled the last of her sandwich. “I wonder if he can have fries.”

“Fy!” Said Damian, who had apparently learned that ‘he’ usually meant him.

“Well, he’s convinced me,” she said.

Tim rolled his eyes. “The book I read said that if you give him regular food he’ll realize ours is better and won’t go back to the baby stuff.”

“Good for him if he stops eating it. I got curious and tried it, it sucks.”

He shrugged a little. “He only needs to keep eating it for, I think, another year…?”

“Two whole years of that stuff? That’s evil. I’m giving him a fry.”

“Fy!” Said Damian again, this time slapping the table to punctuate the word.

Tim sighed and pulled out his phone to check that that was allowed. Apparently, despite the fact that kids can breast feed up to two years (or even longer), they can start with ‘table foods’ around a year. That made exactly zero sense to him but okay.

“... I guess that’s fine,” he said, eventually.

Marinette beamed and tore off a piece of her fry for Damian.

The baby was enlightened.

~

Despite the fact that they’d originally agreed to split the driving evenly, with long shifts so they could go straight to Gotham without any major setbacks, Marinette ended up doing most of it.

It turns out that Tim got car sick.

She didn’t say anything about it. He seemed embarrassed enough as it was, especially since Marinette and Damian were wholly unaffected.

It was… fine. She used the extra stops to get coffee each time. And, whenever it came time to feed or change Damian, she glared Tim into submission. It may not be entirely his fault that his stomach was protesting the car ride but it inconvenienced her so fuck him.

… she did feel a little bad, though, so she always held his hair out of his face and made sure to give him water so he was fully hydrated.

~

They arrived in Gotham and collapsed in the hotel bed pretty much the moment they could. They’d done hygiene stuff, of course, neither of them were eager to lay in their filth for the night after an almost day-long drive (there had been a lot of stops)… but once they had bathed and brushed their teeth? And cleaned up Damian? Straight to bed.

Tim had finished up first since his showers were quicker and he rested an arm around Damian to make sure he wouldn’t leave. He needn’t have worried, Damian was apparently just as happy as they were that they were in an actual bed again because he was in dreamland almost the second he’d touched it.

He closed his eyes and relaxed.

The bed dipped a little as Marinette crawled in and he let go of the kid so she could wrap around him per usual.

Tim hesitated here. He’d wrapped an arm around them before, sure, but that was different. That had mostly been a thing he’d done in his sleep.

After a few moments, Marinette sighed and scooted closer, tangling her legs with his.

He flushed red. “Uh?”

“It happens every night anyways, I’m resigned to my fate.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or frown.

She opened her eyes a little and smiled. “Relax. Chat Noir is super touch starved, I’m used to platonically cuddling with people.”

He relaxed a little and hesitantly rested an arm around the pair.

Marinette nuzzled her face into Damian’s hair and closed her eyes again.

He smiled at the scene and started to close his eyes… but then Kaalki caught his gaze.

He gave a small puff of laughter.

“You know, I just remembered something.”

Marinette hummed to say she was listening.

“My power is the ability to create portals.”

“... god fucking damn it.”

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

[kidpunkjunk]

hi!! lets talk abt boone/arcade fanfic and the issue of depicting gay men as perverted/predatory :)

lets start out by touching on the stereotype of gay men being predatory/inherent perverts

theres an awful trend within media where queer characters; gay men, lesbians, and bisexual, and trans people alike, are depicted as, you guessed it, perverted and predatory. especially towards straight characters. lusting after them, flirting with them despite the other character is showing clear discomfort, even going as far as sexually harrassing, both verbally and physically, them. it stems from the perceived notion that queer people are inhentally oversexual beings. that being oversexual goes hand in hand with lgbt+ identities. its often the reason why some cishet people, upon learning a colleage of theirs is queer, immeditely thinks that that colleague is now dead set on having sex/starting a relationship with them.

you may be asking "okay so what does this have to do with boone/arcade fanfic" the answer is, surprisingly: a lot!!!

ive read just about every single boone/arcade fanfic on ao3, which granted isnt many. something ive noticed is that people LOVE depicting arcade as a horny, perverted, has-no-boundries teen and boone as a straight laced straight boy who uses arcade as, pardon my crass language, a hole to use for stress relief. and dont get me wrong, pure smut fics arent inherently bad, but you have to be very mindful considering that one of the characters is canonically gay. fuck bro, you have to be mindful period when it comes to queer ships. unintentional usage of harmful stereotypes is rampant in fandom. i always get very wary of non gay men authors write about gay male relationships, and especially about gay sex. i hate to gatekeep a whole ass sexuality but some of you just dont get it. not to mention, the trend of boone being a "its just one man"/arcadesexual (honestly same tho) kinda guy. as if the idea of him being queer is unfathomable. i promise you that straight boys dont fuck their gay friends nearly as much as you think.

on a more personal note, thinking of my own experience as a gay man who's been through. A Lot. when it comes to sexual relationships. i have to say that the diluted, watered down plot of "gay man turns straight guy" is uhmmm gross!! the idea of arcade making so many sexual comments to boone and coming on to him in such a casual way is really upsetting and follows the line of inherently over sexual gay men. the idea that gay men dont care if the men they are attracted to are straight or not, theyll harass them till the goddamn cows come home. the trend of gay men pushing and pushing and pushing till their an inch away from being punched. that they dont care about peoples boundries. the tone deafness of it all is palpable. not to mention a huge mischaracterized of arcades character, as well as boones to a certain degree.

actually, lets talk more abt that :) people also love to warp arcades personality and characterization to fit the plot of the story theyre writing. its as if they forget that he's a whole ass 35 year old man. a full grown adult man with three decades worth of life experience as a gay man. as if he doesnt have a very clear personality type and how it affects his sexuality. its insane!! despite having the highest charisma out of all the companions, i promise you that hes not as suave and smooth talking as you all make him out to be. hes just old and has experience. thats off topic tho hold on gimme a hot min.

hes also a full on wasteland genius. he most likely knows the nuance and egg shell walking that comes with being a queer man, around a straight boy, especially in a place so fucked and shit as post apocalyptic america. major knight, who's most likely not a ten intelligence, is full aware and wary of how the west view queer people. so the idea of arcade flirting with a perceived cishet man (from the ncr no less !!!) is the wildest notion ive seen in the fandom. almost middle aged old ass man arcade knows better than to do that and people discard that for the situation of "gay man flirts with 'straight' guy and makes him haha uncomfortable with no concern for the result of his unwarranted actions" the idea that he would disregard someones comfort to that level makes me wonder if yall ever leave ur bedrooms and interact with real people. not to mention the idea of boone just. accepting these come ons. that he just puts up with it and lets it happen, regardless of how he feels. which is even worse when you realize thats exactly how he would respond. he would just let himself be uncomfortable. or, worse, giving in not bc he reciprocates but again bc hes just horny. giant mischaracterization and also straight boys don't do that.

but anyway, its late, and i feel this is more of a directionless ramble than a well thought out critism piece. but i wanted to get out my thoughts and maybe help people realize this kinda uncommon, but still harmful, thing within the fanfic community.

[prorevenge]

My Grandmother Put Greedy Preachers In Their Places .... Twice .... Even After She Died

TL/DR - My grandmother generously served her "Bible Believing Christian" church for almost 50 years, without asking anything in return. But when she became elderly, disabled and homebound, her church acted like she did not exist - until she was in hospice care and literally on her deathbed, when that church showed a sudden interest in telling Grandma to, "Remember your church in your will". She waited until exactly the right moment, in front of exactly the right audience, to expose these greedy assholes for what they were.....twice.

My grandmother was a member of a large conservative "Bible Believing" church for her entire adult life. This church, which I'll call BigWhiteChurch, was a member of a large Evangelical denomination. BigWhiteChurch was located in a prosperous suburb of a large city in the Bible Belt of the Deep South of the USA.

Grandma was very active in BigWhiteChurch. She worked in the nursery every Sunday morning, helped cook hundreds of church fellowship breakfasts and dinners, accompanied her children and grandchildren on dozens of church retreats and choir tours, taught Youth Bible Study on Sunday nights and was very active in supporting Home Missions, as well as helping with other youth programs. She always tithed, and often gave extra for missions and special offerings.

Grandma's greatest talent was making other people feel important. I've seen this first-hand many times. Although I belonged to a different church, I often visited with Grandma, and when I did, I usually went to BigWhiteChurch functions with her. I've seen her single-handedly cook breakfast for dozens of BigWhiteChurch Youth, a task which took over 2 hours, even in the church's large kitchen. Then, after the meal, she asked the group for a round of applause for the high-school student leader for, "Doing such a great job of organizing the Prayer Breakfast".

I remember that, on a BigWhiteChurch youth retreat at a rural Church Camp, she drove most of the night to go back to the city and retrieve a big box of evangelistic materials, that one of the Assistant Pastors (whom I'll call AssPastor) had forgotten and asked her to get, in time for our morning program the next day. His boss, the Senior Pastor (I'll call him PompousPastor), never found out that AssPastor had screwed up or that Grandma had fixed it for him. AssPastor never even thanked Grandma. Even though I was a child, this bothered me so much that I asked her about it. She said that she didn't mind at all; she told me her reward would be that those materials, "Would help children find Jesus".

Grandma's service to her church ended abruptly at the age of 73, when she broke her back in a car accident. Afterwards, for the last 10 years of her life, she was homebound and could not go to church because of this injury and declining health due to old age. Her mind was just as sharp as ever, and her faith remained sincere, but her body wore out a little more every day.

During those 10 years, she made many efforts to reach out to her church, its leadership and her church friends, inviting them to visit her at her home, etc., without success. Every one of these invitations was declined or simply ignored.

Near the end, when she was in home hospice care, she decided to plan her own funeral. She and my Grandpa called her church and asked for the Senior Pastor, PompousPastor, whom she had known for over 30 years, to visit her so that they could plan her memorial service, which she and Grandpa wanted to be held at the church.

PompousPastor was too busy, but AssPastor stopped by a few days later. According to my Grandpa, here's what happened at that meeting, with my Grandma literally on her deathbed:

Grandma, Grandpa and AssPastor discussed her funeral for a couple of minutes. Then AssPastor started pressuring her to, "Lay up your treasure in Heaven" by, "Remembering your church in your will".

Grandpa told him firmly that, "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss her will."

They went back to discussing the funeral for a few minutes. Then AssPastor steered the conversation back to Grandma's will, with liberal injections of how badly "her" church needed "her support".

Grandpa told him several times that it was inappropriate to talk to Grandma about her will or the church's financial needs, because she was terminally ill and in an enormous amount of physical pain. AssPastor would agree and briefly talk about the funeral, but would then go back to talking about the church's financial needs, heavenly rewards, "Where your treasure is your heart will be also" (Matthew 6:21, Luke 12:34), etc.

My Grandma started crying.

To put this into context, Grandma was more than a "Steel Magnolia". She was "Titanium Coated With Diamond Wrapped In Kevlar". She rarely ever cried, and never EVER cried about herself. Not one tear when the doctor told her that her back was broken so badly that she would never walk again, nor during the following 6 months in futile rehab. She would shed sincere but well-managed tears at funerals and while visiting family members in the hospital when they received bad news. She would cry to console others, "Weep with those who weep". But nobody - not Grandpa, not her daughter (my mom), nor any of my uncles or Grandma's siblings - ever remembered her crying for herself.

My Grandma was sobbing uncontrollably.

Grandpa, a retired steelworker, ex-Marine Sergeant and Korean War combat veteran, physically grabbed AssPastor and "escorted" him out of their house, not too gently.

Contrary to everyone's expectations, Grandma lived another 6 months, mostly because of sheer force of will. Eventually, though, Grandma passed away and we held her memorial service at the funeral home, not BigWhiteChurch. PompousPastor and AssPastor were conspicuously absent. In fact, there were no "Professional Christians", from BigWhiteChurch, at the service at all, not even in the audience.

To start the service, Grandpa stood up at the podium in front of the crowd and said, "Some of you may have heard that I dis-invited PompousPastor and AssPastor from this funeral service. This service is not an appropriate place for me to give you my reasons for doing this, although you all know me and so you know that my reasons are good ones. Also, my wife asked me to exclude them."

"This funeral service may be different from other funerals that you have attended. It is going to be an "open microphone" funeral. Everyone who wants to say something is invited to come up here and describe your friendship with my wife, tell a story about her that is worth remembering, or anything else that you want to say that will honor her memory and bring comfort to everyone here today. I have asked several family members to prepare statements, but you don't have to have anything prepared. Please, if you want to say something, come up here and do so."

There were about a hundred people at the funeral service; at least a third of them eventually stepped up to the microphone. The service, which we had planned to last about 30 minutes, lasted for over two hours and, as best I can tell, not one person left early. There was laughing, crying and hugging, three of her grandchildren played some of her favorite songs on the piano and guitar, we all joined hands and sang her favorite hymns.

Afterwards, dozens of people told my Grandpa that it was one of the most comforting and uplifting funerals they had ever attended. More than a few remarked that, "Funerals are better without preachers anyway", or something similar.

REMEMBERING HER PASTORS AND HER CHURCH IN HER WILL: THE ONE-TWO PUNCH

A couple of weeks later, it was time to start distributing the bequests in Grandma's will. Although Grandma and Grandpa dearly loved each other, they had separate wills because, she told my Mom, "That makes it easier for us to respect each other's turf", and because their lawyer had recommended it. Nobody thought that my grandparents were wealthy. They had lived in the same small but charming house in a prosperous, well-maintained suburban neighborhood for the past 50+ years, and had worked hard and lived modestly. But it was rumored that they had a very nice nest egg.

Of course, there is no legal requirement for anyone to attend "The Reading Of The Will", or to even have a "Reading". Modern telecommunications and near-universal literacy have made this quaint custom practically extinct.

But "The Reading Of The Will" was a tradition in our family because it was one of those events that gave our close-knit, extended family an excuse to get together. We never had "Family Reunions". They were too difficult to schedule for our large family. But we got together at birthdays, holidays, funerals, baptisms, etc., so that if you attended several of these, you would see just about every one of your cousins, aunts, uncles, and even great aunts & uncles who were Grandma's and Grandpa's siblings and in-laws.

With this family tradition in mind, many of our family members' wills often contained very personal bequests of items that had little cash value, but were the departed family member's way of telling their loved ones that they wanted to share a cherished memory with them one last time.

As an added incentive to attend, the family rumor mill had been buzzing with speculation, encouraged by Grandpa, that Grandma's will contained some "surprises".

The "Reading" was held in a conference room at a lawyer's office. Unsurprisingly, the attendees included my mom, as well as aunts, uncles, great aunts, great uncles and many of the grandchildren.

We were all surprised, however, to see PompousPastor and AssPastor from BigWhiteChurch. They informed us that Grandma's lawyer had told them that Grandma's will had bequests not only for BigWhiteChurch, but also for them personally.

Maybe it was just our imagination; but my siblings, cousins and I couldn't help noticing that these Preachers appeared to be actively salivating over their good fortune at Grandma's generosity.

Grandma had a large family, so a sizeable number of beneficiaries were named in her will. The lawyer's conference room was a bit smaller than an average middle-class living room. Extra chairs had been brought in, every seat was filled and people were standing in every remaining space.

There was barely space for all of us. Grandma's lawyer suggested that PompousPastor and AssPastor sit in chairs which were in the front of the room, next to himself. Since there was a large table in the room, this meant that the lawyer and these two Preachers were the only ones who were directly facing everyone else. Although the Preachers were gratified to be physically next to the center of attention, they did not notice, as all of the rest of us quickly noticed, that these seats made it easy for everyone else in the room to watch them closely, and practically impossible for them to leave the packed-to-more-than-overflowing room before the entire meeting was over, because they were farthest from the room's single door, and there were almost two dozen people standing or sitting between them and their only path to escape.

The bequests were quite generous, but pretty much what we had expected. Grandpa kept their house, its contents, their retirement accounts and everything that remained after all of the bequests had been satisfied. Children, grandchildren and several local charities received nice, but not extravagant, amounts of money. Several sentimental items were named and given to various friends and relatives.

Grandpa was first beneficiary listed in the will. But, after him, all of the other bequests were arranged in order of increasing worth. They started with sentimental items, which had very small cash value. Then each grandchild received several thousand dollars, then each son, daughter, brother, sister, niece and nephew received a little more, then several local non-profits received very nice amounts, etc.

Bequests to BigWhiteChurch, PompousPastor and AssPastor were (almost) the last ones listed in the will. They listened politely to the other bequests, but with steadily growing anticipation, as they noticed the exponential upward trend in Grandma's largess.

When Grandma's lawyer got to the BigWhiteChurch and Preachers' part of the will, he said, "This is a bit unusual, but before I announce these bequests to BigWhiteChurch, PompousPastor and AssPastor, Ms [Grandma's name] requested that I read the following statement to everyone present."

He opened a letter that was written in Grandma's own handwriting...

"For the past 10 years, NOT ONE person from BigWhiteChurch has ever called me, come to visit me or sent me a note to tell me that they cared about me. Not one minister, not one deacon, not one of the church women, not one of the church members who I worked with for all of those years, loved dearly and thought were my friends. I worked very hard for you when you needed me, for many, many years. But when I needed you and your church, you all pretended that I didn't exist."

"I only got one visit. When I was dying and I invited PompousPastor to come to my house and help me plan my funeral."

"This was my last attempt, after many attempts that I had made over the past 10 years, to reach out to my church and Pastor, whom I still loved dearly even though they had made it clear that they did not love me. If only I could have my funeral at my church, maybe some of my church friends, whom I had not seen in a decade, would come to the service to see me one last time. And I know they loved to hear PompousPastor preach, so if he preached at my funeral, maybe they would come to my funeral to hear him, even if they would not have come to see me.

But PompousPastor couldn't find the time to visit me, or even call me to tell me whether or not he was willing to preach at my funeral. AssPastor came by my house, but he didn't want to talk about my funeral. He just wanted me to, 'Remember his church in my will'. That's all. Just, 'Remember his church in my will'".

"It was then that I realized that I had allowed my church to break my heart for one last time. But that was the last time. The VERY last time."

"AssPastor did not know it when he visited me, but Grandpa and I had already prepared my will, long before his visit, which did include a double tithe - TWENTY PERCENT - of my ENTIRE ESTATE, for what was now my former ... FORMER ... church ... BigWhiteChurch.

This amount was [named the amount - an enormous shitload of money - generating muffled "wows" from many of her heirs, including me].

"But I got to feeling badly that we had not personally remembered such nice people as PompousPastor and AssPastor. So I changed my will to include them by name. While I was at it, I changed the amount of money that I left to BigWhiteChurch to match all of the love that they have showed to me during the last 10 years of my life, when I was suffering and lonely, and no longer able to work my ass off for them, for free, like I had done for almost half a century."

"That is her entire written statement", the lawyer said. "Now let's get back to the bequests in the will."

"Bequest to AssPastor: One Cent".

"Bequest to PompousPastor: One Cent".

"Bequest to BigWhiteChurch: One Cent".

The PompousPastor and AssPastor sat there looking like someone had just injected a gallon of novacaine into their jaws.

Every one of Grandma's family and friends felt an overwhelming urge to laugh out loud. But we kept quiet because we knew Grandma. We knew she wasn't finished yet. Grandma was simply setting them up for a one-two punch. The best was yet to come, and we didn't want to miss it.

"There is one last bequest," the lawyer continued, "For a charity called ...", which he named and I'll call "BlackCharity", then he paused before naming the amount....

Most of us had no idea what BlackCharity was. But, by the looks on their faces, we could tell that PompousPastor and AssPastor knew BlackCharity very well. Their faces displayed the same expressions of shock, dread and horror that they would have if the lawyer had said, "This bequest goes to The Demonic Baby Eaters to buy extra large rotisserie barbecue grills and tons of charcoal".

Every eye in the room was now fixated on PompousPastor and AssPastor.

The lawyer, who happened to be my uncle, one of Grandma's and Grandpa's sons, let the silence continue a few seconds more....

If we had been able to read PompousPastor's and AssPastor's minds, we would have known the history behind the looks on their faces. BlackCharity was sponsored by a large Black church just a few miles from BigWhiteChurch. They ran a free food/clothing bank, assistance programs for foster children, home delivery of pre-cooked meals for homebound seniors, legal aid, and other social services.

A long time ago, BigWhiteChurch, which was (and still is) 100% Caucasian, had provided a few years of financial and other support to BlackCharity. Then there was a very bitter, acrimonious breakup, allegedly because BlackCharity was practicing "The Social Gospel", while BigWhiteChurch was preaching "The True Gospel". BigWhiteChurch even sued to try to get some of their money back, although the suit was eventually settled and very little money actually changed hands.

But, this being The Deep South, everyone knew the real reason why BigWhiteChurch, or any white church, would stop supporting a Black charity: "Those n****** were getting uppity and not staying in their place". Grandma and Grandpa had seriously considered leaving BigWhiteChurch at that time. But they had reasoned that it was better to stay there and teach tolerance by their words and example. They knew they would never persuade everyone, but maybe they could reach some of the youth at their white church and break the generational cycle of racism. Grandma used to tell us, "My church is my Mission Field". We did not learn the true depth of her statement until after she died.

Since then, Grandma and Grandpa had secretly sent a portion of their "Tithe" to BlackCharity every month.

Most of Grandma's family, including me, didn't find out about any of this until after the meeting had ended.

But PompousPastor and AssPastor obviously understood what Grandma, by her actions which are more powerful than words, was saying to them. If you had grown up as a white person in the Deep South, as Grandma, Grandpa, PompousPastor and AssPastor had, you would understand.

To many white Southerners, this was one of the most personally insulting things you could do to them. It simultaneously labeled them as racists, condemned their bigotry and crushed their delusions of white superiority by saying, "These Black human beings, whom you hate, disrespect and have mistreated, are better people than you are. So they deserve my money more than you do".

Having allowed time for everyone to observe PompousPastor and AssPastor while they thought about how their white church had treated this Black charity, and how they AND their church had treated our Grandma...

The lawyer said, "The amount is...."

Then he named the EXACT SAME AMOUNT that Grandma had named in her handwritten letter, the huge amount of money that would have gone to BigWhiteChurch if she had not changed her will.

(source) story by (/u/BamaFan4Jesus)

[bbugyu]

how seokmin knew

a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.

from the second seokmin first saw you, he thought you were far too good to be true, and he hadn't even gotten to learn the best parts of you yet.

prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue

wc.8888 | fluff, smut, courtship, oh jeez where do i even begin, the beginning i guess, polyamory, fem reader, musician!seokmin sugar daddy!jeonghan escort!reader, threesome, fingering, oral (everyone receiving), creampie, cumpla (like gunpla but with cum), (sorry), (but seriously lots of cumplay), overstim, switch!seok dom!han switch!reader, phone sex, snuck in a babygirl, hell yeah fighting for dominance, let's talk BOUNDARIES, hi mingyu, sorry but seokmin being a special guest is hot as hell, the required listening for the last scene is the album "new edition (1984)" by new edition (which is a real lp i own and listened to while writing it)

hELLOO!! welcome to my poly seokhan au! i have been neck deep in this universe for weeks now and i am finally releasing it in three parts! i will be posting today (obvi), tomorrow, and friday at noon pst, plus a little bonus epilogue whenever i finish it! today is all about seokmin and how he fell in love. i really poured a lot of myself into this one, between the poly reader and the obsession with architecture and the record collection (three fun facts about me, but you get no more context), so if you like it, please let me know! i did my best to portray the relationship as realistic and as healthy as possible❣️ also this series lowkey became a “how many cameos can i naturally squeeze in” kinda piece so if you spot one u should absolutely let me know hehe. and i edited my masterlist to accommodate for serial aus, let me know what you think!

please read the prelude linked in the contents of this post! it gives important context for the beginning of this part, establishes relationships, and sets the general mood 😏

~

seokmin lived a fairly simple life. he held private piano and guitar lessons in the comfort of his apartment, vaulted ceilings and tall windows helping to bring a bright, airy, studio environment during the day that he felt suited musical lessons perfectly - not the mention the lovely acoustics the tall room provided when he sang, belting out improv musical theater riffs as he scrambled eggs for a sandwich. he genuinely found joy and pride in helping adults and children alike train their hands to achieve new heights. he also did some contract vocal lessons at an entertainment company, stopping by the studio two or three times a week to train young new hopefuls in the music industry. he wondered how different his life would have been if he had taken their path, but he enjoyed the quiet downtime in his line of work, and wouldn't trade it for anything

his simple life. he drank tea in the mornings as the sun rose over the skyline, rode the subway with his guitar bag over his shoulder and his groceries in two overstuffed ecobags, and enjoyed his days off by relaxing in his home, scribbling down lyrics and compositions on the legal pad that never left the music shelf of his upright piano. the less simple part of his life could be described simply as you.

the second time he had been summoned to accompany you, he had been at home, heating up leftover takeout and mindlessly watching some drama on a saturday evening after having gotten lunch and playfully wasting the afternoon with a friend, when he received a phone call. he answered it without giving too much thought, expecting an invite for drinks, as was usually the case when he heard from jeonghan. he put it on speaker and set his phone on his kitchen counter, leaning against it as he ate.

"hello?"

"minnie!" he had said, the smile obvious in his voice. seokmin responded with a short greeting before jeonghan continued. "are you busy tonight?"

"just watching tv," seokmin said, spoonful of fried rice in his mouth. "why? you feeling lonely?"

"something like that," jeonghan said. the architect must have been in the car, he thought briefly, hearing the static noise of wheels on pavement in the background every time he spoke. "listen, you remember y/n, yeah?"

he nearly choked. "uh, yeah. of course. did you think i would forget?"

"not really," he said matter of factly. "we're currently heading home after that exhibit opening and she's been asking about you all day. any chance you can get to my place in half an hour?"

seokmin blinked, staring at nothing as he processed. "tonight?"

a laugh. "yeah, tonight. she's been really sweet lately, i thought you could be her treat."

her treat. "right now?"

"yes," jeonghan laughed again. "right now. if it helps the decision making process, i've had my hand between her legs this whole time and she gets needier every time you talk."

seokmin swallowed harshly, imagining you squirming in the passenger seat of the car, huffing and desperate, begging for him with jeonghan's fingers curled into you. he adjusted against the counter, his pants suddenly feeling slightly tighter. "i'll get a cab."

then he heard you, your signature whiny moan as jeonghan no doubt worked you into a mess despite his even tone as he spoke. "y'hear that, sweetheart? he said yes. i'll pay for the cab when we get there. see you soon?"

"yeah," he said, eyes still unfocused. "yeah, see you soon."

after jeonghan asked you to be an angel and hang up for him, seokmin stood and looked around at his leftover fried rice and the drama that continued playing, remnants of his simple life that he found plenty enjoyable and fulfilling on its own, but fell to the shadows as you came into the light.

the cab ride felt too fast, and jeonghan's car pulled into the driveway of his luxurious home only minutes after seokmin arrived. he emerged from the door of the cab and stood in the late november air as the other car parked, the passenger door swinging open in a hurry.

"seokmin!" you squealed, heels clicking against the drive as you ran up to him in a shoulderless, long sleeved jewel toned dress that was not at all suited for the current temperature. your arms wrapped around his neck and he laughed into the hug. "i missed you."

"it's practically snowing," he chided, pulling away to wrap his coat around you, and you happily fell into his chest. he didn't stop you when you pulled his face to yours, kissing him briefly but deeply. you tasted familiar, memories of eating you out entering his mind as he thought about how jeonghan had likely made you clean his hand in the car, and despite your forwardness and his generally shy nature, it wasn't the winter air that sent chills up your spine when he muttered "i missed you, too," against your lips.

"okay, kids, get inside while i pay the nice driver," jeonghan said, holding out your coat to seokmin. he took it, draping it over your bare shoulders. you grinned at him, working your fingers between his and leading him towards a side entrance of the home.

he felt a flash of embarrassment, wondering what the cab driver must have thought about the interaction he was witnessing, but seokmin figured that he had probably seen much stranger and decided to not worry about it, especially when you were regaling the events of the evening.

"they were playing classical," you groaned, punching in the door code with the hand that wasn't fiddling with his fingers. "from a cd. at a modern art exhibit. what part of that makes sense?"

seokmin laughed. "is that why you were thinking about me?"

you smiled as he followed you through the doorway, revealing a grand kitchen with a large island countertop. he had been here before, but on halloween, when it was full of life and the counter was covered in food. "jeonghan may have let me watch some videos," you said, and seokmin felt heat rising on his neck as he thought of you asking to learn more about him in his absence. you stepped out of your heels and walked towards the large fridge as you spoke, retrieving a water bottle. "that jazz piano number you did, jeonghan said it was at a bar? that would have been so much better, especially considering the artist's vision. his stuff was so full of life, i'm honestly surprised he allowed them to do anything other than live jazz - classical was too stuffy."

"it was a commentary," jeonghan reminded you, closing the door behind him as you offered a bottle to seokmin. "juxtaposition of traditional museum atmosphere with outlandish architecture and colorful, emotional art pieces," he said, sounding rehearsed. "the music was supposed to feel stuffy compared to the visuals."

"you guys worked too hard to settle for that," you shot back. you may have held a little resentment for the fact that jeonghan hadn't even asked for your opinion on the matter, considering you were less than a year away from a degree in musical theory. "if i hear clair de lune at one of these unveilings one more time, i'm gonna tear my fucking hair out."

seokmin laughed, but jeonghan only gave you a tired chuckle, and only after you quirked an eyebrow at him. he should have known you were only acting impressed at the exhibit because you wanted seokmin around. jeonghan could be cruel, but not so cruel as to invite a friend over to make his lady's night, only to deny everyone the pleasure after he already arrived, and this was a fact about him you were completely aware of. now was your chance to act out with little to no sacrifice - the most he would do is punish you in bed, and that, you were willing to handle.

jeonghan tsked when he saw your laptop and schoolwork spread across the kitchen island. "didn't i ask you to not do this?"

you eyed the counter, noting the teasing tone he took. "not do what?"

"leave your shit in the kitchen. you have a whole room to do schoolwork in, make a mess in there," he scolded, clicking his tongue as he flipped a textbook shut.

"i work better in bright, open spaces," you said quickly. 

"i gave you a window to the sunroom."

"and i love it," you stated obviously. "and the desk you chose is nice, and the chair is super comfy, but it's still too dark in that room. it makes me want to fall asleep." you turned to the musician. "how have you been, seokmin? i haven't seen you in weeks, and jeonghan purposefully keeps secrets when you guys go out."

seokmin said close to nothing of substance as he said he was doing well and leaned against the kitchen island, focusing more on the way you shrugged the fuzzy coat off your shoulders and setting it in the counter to tuck your arms into his, wrapping them around his torso and resting your chin on his shoulder to give the man of the house a flirtatious look. jeonghan simply rolled his eyes at you with a faint smile on his face, taking off his own outer coat and going to hang it in a closet. you hummed as seokmin spoke about anything he could think of, smiling when you felt his gentle, hesitant fingers rubbing circles into the small of your back.

and that night, seokmin was perhaps too eager to secede control, allowing his friend to gently order the two of you to do whatever pleased him. currently, you were between his thighs as he laid out comfortably in jeonghan's bed, the architect fucking into you from behind as your voice went hoarse from sucking seokmin dry. his thick cock stretched your jaw to its breaking point, but your neediness for his cum on your tongue outweighed the soreness you knew you would feel the next day as you bobbed your head, your hands wrapped around what wouldn't fit. he choked, his fingers itching to reach out to you, but remembering jeonghan's firm words of no touching and gripping the sheets instead as he came into your mouth and you moaned around him. jeonghan had stopped you from swallowing completely, a hand around your throat as he pulled you against his chest, forcing your neck to crane around so he could share the treat. seokmin watched, hand involuntarily going to pump himself again despite the sensitivity, as his release dripped down both of your jaws between the feverish kisses. you whined, jeonghan continuing to thrust into you as he stole the gift seokmin gave you straight from your mouth, his fingers finding your clit, making your knees shake as he came in your pulsating cunt.

that was the first time in his life that seokmin had ever cum twice in one session, having been too turned on at the sight to even think about not having you ride his face, cum seeping out of your precious hole. too turned on by the way your fingers dug against his scalp and the way you tasted to even think about turning down jeonghan when he asked to touch him, groaning against your core as he slowly and teasingly jerked him off. too turned on by it all to even think about not cumming when he was told, fist clenching the now familiar sheets as you rolled off him, panting from the overstimulation. your face was wrecked, tearstained and flushed, as you collapsed into his side, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your hot face in his neck, his own face not much better. jeonghan proudly announced he was off to take a shower, sucking a line of cum off his thumb before saying that you lovebirds were welcome to stay as long as you would like, fully expecting you two to continue without him as he walked to the bathroom. 

seokmin felt shy, for some reason, despite having just having taken a shower with you, and just before, having had sex with you both. you had asked him if he wanted sweats or a shirt to sleep in, saying jeonghan wouldn't mind if he borrowed some. he turned you down, but watched you tug a far too large shirt over your otherwise bare form, and let you lead him back to bed.

"it's a custom mattress," you told him, giggling as you pulled him onto the oversized bed, kneeing yourself to the center and plopping down next to where jeonghan was wasting time on his phone. you planted a kiss on his cheek and he looked up to smile at you before you turned back to seokmin. he noticed the duvet changed, and he wondered if jeonghan had swapped it out after the mess they had made on it. you maneuvered yourself under the covers, gesturing for him to join you. "c'mon," you said. "we cuddle here."

seokmin had never even considered the idea of spending the night in bed with two other people, but found it surprisingly comfortable for it being his first time.

he did a lot of firsts with you, as it turned out.

you started to text him when you were alone and bored, which was something you and jeonghan had discussed with the strict understanding that you would have open and honest talks about it frequently, and that you would let him know any time you reached out to the musician. the first time he ever had phone sex, seokmin was busy at the company he did contract work for, and he had even told you so after the first suggestive text you sent him, but that didn't stop you from sending him increasingly dirty ideas and photos, making him silence his phone and shove it in his back pocket as he tried to focus on his students. when he finally slipped away to a private bathroom, he groaned at the way you looked, laid out on a plush couch and squeezing at your own breasts, with your back arching just so, and he quickly called you to ask if you were trying to get him fired.

"maybe if you get fired, you can come work with me," you whined, fingers already teasing your slick folds just at the low tone in seokmin's voice. his mind whirring as you gasped suddenly, revealing that you had already started. "jeonghan's been too busy for me this week, please don't tell me you are, too."

seokmin's eyes squeezed shut, back hitting the bathroom wall as he pulled himself out of his pants, trying not to drop his phone from his ear as he imagined how absolutely delightful you must look in that moment. "i'm never too busy for you, baby."

jeonghan took him out to dinner. it was normal, mostly, and not the first time since seokmin had seen his dick, but he noticed the older was acting slightly different as seokmin turned the meat on the grill.

"about y/n," he said finally, and seokmin fumbled with a chunk of pork before clearing his throat.

"yeah?"

jeonghan smiled. "she hasn't said it yet, but i think she really likes you."

that made seokmin freeze, suddenly thinking about how he was at dinner with his undefined sext buddy's long term partner. "really?" he squeaked out.

"listen, i want you to know," he said, picking off some cooked meat and chewing it casually. "whatever happens between you two, i'm okay with it. she promised to keep me in the loop, and i trust her."

seokmin nodded, putting down the tongs and grabbing his chopsticks, continuing to avoid eye contact. "okay."

jeonghan laughed. "stop acting like i'm her dad. you and i are in the same relationship with her at this point."

he swallowed, a smile creeping across his face. "well, she does call you daddy."

the next time he saw you, you came to him, appearing at his apartment one early tuesday evening as his last client was leaving. he greeted you casually, but still snuck a quick kiss on your lips as he let you in, his student packing up their guitar. he took your winter coat and told you to make yourself comfortable as they finished up, telling you where the restroom was if you needed it, but in a tone that made you think he was saying it more to announce to his student that you had never been there before than for your comfort, which pulled a quiet giggle from you as he quickly organized his loose leaf sheet music into their designated folders. you watched him from the piano bench as he made short conversation with his student, accepted a check, and bid the aspiring guitarist farewell, closing the door behind them. when you were finally alone, seokmin blushed at the realization that you had been smiling at him the entire time, thinking about how his client must have thought their teacher had gotten himself a cute girlfriend.

you were less forward this time. less needy. you flirted, but not in the outright ways you had every other time seokmin saw you. you stood and joined him by a bookshelf as he put away materials, asking him about his day (quite lovely, especially with this to look forward to), what he had eaten for lunch (he'd gotten ox tail soup delivered as a celebratory meal for a student that just had their first solo piano recital that weekend), and how he managed to command authority in all his students when he always looked so darn cute (he had pitched his eyebrows at you and went "yah," but was unable to keep a straight face long enough to argue with you). you smiled, taking a baseball off the bookshelf and turning it over in your hands, and asked why he invited you over. he cleared his throat, saying he thought it'd be nice to take you out on a proper date, but faltered when your shining eyes caught his.

"a proper date?" you asked, smiling slyly.

"i- uh, yeah, i mean-" he cleared his throat, hand finding the edge of a table as he tried to figure out what he was trying to say. "people generally treat you in exchange for your company, right?"

"generally," you agreed, focusing on his standup piano on the far wall as you thought. "i don't want you to, though."

“i didn’t mean-” he stretched his jaw - a nervous habit that you had begun to notice - as he readjusted his approach, not wanting to imply that he wanted your exchange to be purely transactional. "i just wanna take you out. for real."

you gave him a small smile, knowing what was the case despite your teasing. "okay. it's a date."

to change the subject from one that seokmin clearly didn't know how to continue - and besides, you weren't hungry enough for dinner yet - you returned the baseball to it's display and asked him how he taught his lessons. he laughed, not because your question was funny, but because he didn't know how to answer it in a way that didn't sound like a pitch to a potential client.

"then teach me like a client," you demanded playfully, skipping to sit at the piano bench and turning to grin at him.

seokmin took a moment to look at you, with a knit sweater tucked in the front of a pair of loose jeans - a far cry from the tight fitting, short dresses he normally saw you in - sat in his apartment as the last remnants of sunrays dipped behind the skyline. "you know how to play," he said finally, but walking over to join you anyways.

"teach me like i don't," you said as he sat beside you, scooting over slightly to accommodate. "i'm very good at acting incompetent."

he laughed again. "normally, people pay me for this kind of time, but i'll give you an intro. we'll start with hand placement," he said, gently putting his hands on the keys. "starting position is important, even though you'll be moving around the keys a lot when you actually play. your thumb," he said, wiggling his right thumb and smiling when you giggled. "it starts on c. that's your root."

"oh, right," you vocalised, placing your right hand similarly an octave up from his. "music has a bunch of letters, huh?"

"only the seven," he joked, pulling his hands off the keys as you comfortably set your fingers where they belonged, a motion you clearly made often. "wow, are you sure you're a beginner? you picked that up fast."

you knocked him with your shoulder, giggling. "quick, what do i do next?"

he smiled. "try pressing the keys in order. c to g, thumb to pinky. be firm, this isn't an electric keyboard. it can sense fear."

you sucked on your cheek, smiling at the way seokmin explained things as you played, but used your pinky to strike the black key instead of g, giggling at the flat note. "oh, that sounded wrong. this piano must be out of tune."

"stop," seokmin said teasingly. "beginners don't have that kind of pinky dexterity, by the way."

"maybe i'm a prodigy," you said, grabbing his sleeve with both hands excitedly. "you have to teach me, mr. lee! you're the only one that can help me hone my gift."

"stop it," he repeated, laughing, giving you a fake glare. he put his hands back on the keys. "lesson over."

you pouted, but it was short-lived as he began to play. you watched his hands effortlessly move over each other as you listened to the gentle flowing melody. despite being classically trained yourself, back when you were young and your parents felt you needed the discipline of regular lessons, you found yourself being impressed by his deft finger movements. your eyes shut, and you let your temple fall to his shoulder as you listened.

"yiruma," you said when he stopped playing despite the song not being over.

his arm went over your head, allowing you to lean into his chest as he planted his hand on the bench behind you, your eyes still shut. "you know your stuff."

"it's one of my favorites." you smiled, eyes fluttering open again. "you play well."

your breath stopped in your throat when you realized how close his face was to yours. "have to. people pay me to teach their kids."

"jeonghan pays me to be nice to him, doesn't mean i'm good at it."

seokmin couldn't help but laugh. "how did that even start, by the way? he would never tell me when i asked."

you sighed, straightening your posture. "i suppose you should know, considering this is becoming a regular thing."

"you don't have to if you don't want to," he assured quietly. you smiled at the thoughtfulness. "i'm just curious, is all."

"i don't mind," you said, shaking your head gently at him. you inhaled, organizing your thoughts - this wasn't a subject you explained very often. "i had a scholarship for the first two years of uni, but i would have to pay tuition afterwards, so i decided to become a paid escort to save for it." you paused to study seokmin's reaction, but for the first time from someone other than jeonghan, you found no creased brow, no vague frown. no judgement. "men would hire me through a broker to accompany them to dinner, go to parties, the general stuff. i even played golf a couple times - terribly, obviously, but rich men really enjoy teaching young pretty women how to play golf. i always got a cab ride home at the end of the night, though. never did anything more. jeonghan was one of my clients."

seokmin nodded. "how long did you do that for?"

despite how you would normally take that question, you knew he meant no shame in asking. "ten-ish months? jeonghan was only for the last month or so, though."

"before he asked you to quit?"

you laughed lightly. "actually, someone else asked me to quit. this guy that had been hiring me regularly for almost my entire career. he wanted me to date him properly. i think he wanted a trophy wife. he was young, like, only a few years older than me, and he was nice, y'know? a little awkward in the beginning, but paying someone to go out with you is always a little awkward, and we got comfortable with each other pretty fast. he wanted to take the next step with me, but he wanted the end goal to be marriage."

seokmin adjusted as he thought. "but you said no?"

"i said yes." his wide eyes made you laugh, but you understood his shock. "i was ready to quit anyways, i guess?" you shrugged, shaking your head. "i wanted to go on real dates instead of getting paid to eat with men my parents' age. yukwon felt realistic to me. someone i could see myself with." you sighed. "i went out with jeonghan during my last week of escorting. when i told him i was quitting, he asked me to choose him instead."

he watched you when you paused, pursing your lips. "and then you said no?"

you giggled, bumping against his chest as he laughed with you. "i tried! but jesus, when that guy gets an idea." you shook your head again. "he asked how much yukwon was paying me - which he wasn't, by the way. we were going to do it for real, even though he was still gonna support me financially and pay for my schooling. i was gonna sign a prenup and everything - but jeonghan kept saying he would double it. said i didn't have to marry him, and that he just wanted to keep spending time with me, and if i wanted to call it quits later, i could. no pressure, no sex, no commitment… he gave me a choice, and i realized i didn't love yukwon. i thought i could, but i didn't."

"so he saved you?"

"from a lifetime of settling? i guess so. he's funnier, too," you admitted sheepishly. "i always had the most fun on nights i was with jeonghan."

seokmin smiled. "he is good at lightening the mood."

"and," you said, eyes wide. "he didn't even want us to be exclusive, said i could keep escorting or go on dates with other guys if i wanted, as long as i promised to make time for him when he wanted me. it was kind of the perfect arrangement."

seokmin nodded again. "was, being the operative word?"

you laughed, remembering how well he knew jeonghan. "lasted less than a month. we spent too much time together, and i quickly realized that every time i went out with someone else, i wished i was with him. to be honest, when i met you, i thought this would be a one time thing, so i may have tried to make it seem a little less involved than it is." you sighed. "we never really defined what we were. i think we've both always known that he was more than a sugar daddy to me, but he does basically pay me so that i can keep my schedule open for him, so i guess it's easier to tell people that? instead of everyone assuming i'm some gold digger taking advantage of his money?" you shrugged. "i do love the guy. i'm about 94% sure he loves me, too."

that made him laugh. "how long have you been together?" he asked, trying to figure out the timeline in his head. he had known about jeonghan's relationship with you for quite some time, though not the exact nature of it, or that you were so fantastic, for the mass majority.

"about a year. right before halloween, actually," you said, smiling as you leaned into him. "you were technically an anniversary gift."

his lip quirked upwards, watching you. "was it a good gift?"

"the best," you whispered, placing a slow kiss on his lips. your hand went to his sharp jaw, and you sighed against him as the kiss deepened, suddenly feeling needier than you had previously.

"does he know you're here?" seokmin asked quietly, mind flashing back to when him and jeonghan had gotten dinner together. "like this, i mean."

you nodded slowly, a hand on the bench to steady you as you leaned into him further. "he's in japan this week, told me i could see you as often as i want. just asked that i call him when i can, we spoke this afternoon."

"promise?"

you giggled. "you act like i would risk it. i like you too much, and you know he would make us both regret it if i was seeing you behind his back."

he examined your face, a smile on his lips, knowing it wasn't the part of the statement that he was meant to focus on but unable to think of anything else. "i like you, too."

so he kissed you, sitting on the piano bench in his loft apartment, and despite it being nowhere near the first time, something about it felt special. new. different.

later, though much sooner than later would imply, when the two of you were unable to stop yourselves from undressing each other, he had you seated firmly in his lap on the couch in his living room. the way he filled you out made you incapable of doing much outside of digging your hands in his hair as he rolled his hips up into yours, rambling about how perfect you were. how well you took him. how he had never seen anything as breathtaking as the way your brows stitched together and your mouth hung open as he fucked you. you huffed, twisting your hips slightly, triggering a groan from you both.

"so beautiful," he muttered, hands on your bare hips, rubbing circles into the soft flesh above the bone. "fuck, you're incredible."

"shit, seokmin," you exhaled, forehead falling on his. you knew he wasn't even using all his length, but he was thrusting deep enough into you to make you see stars. "god, i'm close."

you watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he focused on you, pulling himself off the couch and sitting up straight as his hips steadily rolled into yours. "come on, babygirl. you know i love the way you feel."

you cursed, arms winding around his neck as you pressed your chest against his, desperately kissing him as you felt yourself falling over the sweet edge. he groaned when you squeezed at him, arms wrapped around your waist, fingers gripping any amount of you he could as he worked you through your bliss. he only slowed to gently put your back to the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he curled over you, arms under your body to pull you into his chest, and a hand at the base of your neck to hold you steady as he firmly fucked you into the cushion.

"fuck, baby, you're so good to me," he groaned, forehead pressed just under your jawline, his mouth latching onto your neck as soon as he managed the words. you were gasping for air, arms over his shoulders, wondering if seokmin always made love this deeply and genuinely, or if you were just special.

afterwards, he discarded the condom that he insisted on using (you asked what the point of you getting something shoved into your cervix was if you couldn't enjoy his particularly bountiful creampies with no consequence, but he said he was not getting cum on the couch his clients sit on), pulled his underwear back on, and returned to you quickly, kissing up your body after pulling your panties back over your hips. you ran your fingers through his messy hair, causing him to look up at you. he said sorry, a laugh on his lips, asking if you wanted to get food delivered instead of going out.

"that sounds perfect," you giggled. "don't apologize."

"i'll take you out for real this weekend, i promise," he said, sitting up and stretching out his shoulder. you watched, quietly admiring how gentle and soft he seemed, with surprisingly firm muscles hiding under his usual large sweaters and shirts. "and i'll pick you up so we don't get tempted. but for now, kimchi soup and bibimbap?"

you nodded excitedly, sitting up to wrap your arms around him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. "sounds delicious."

he tried not to get excited by your touch, thinking about how you had said this was becoming a regular thing, and therefore he didn't need to get as much of you as he could before you slipped through his fingers like he had the first few times you met. he couldn't help himself, though, when his eyes met yours and you smiled gently at him, and had no choice but to put an agonizingly slow kiss on your lips before he stood to announce he was changing into something comfortable if you were just going to stay in. you giggled and grabbed your sweater from where it got discarded, pulling it over your head as you told him there was no chance in hell you were putting jeans on again before the morning, and he smiled at the implication that you would be staying the night with him.

"i have lessons tomorrow," he reminded you softly as he gathered up his clothes and walked to the stairs. "if you'd like, you can stick around, but it'll be boring."

you hummed. "i don't have class, but i should do schoolwork," you mused, watching him walk up the steps to what you could assume was his lofted bedroom. "it's been lonely at the house, though."

"if you wanna bring your things here, you can," seokmin suggested, his voice projecting easily through the space. he pulled on a pair of shorts and a more casual shirt than the one he had been wearing for his work day. "it would give you something to do while i teach youths how to play chopsticks. do you stay at jeonghan's when he's not around, too?"

you laughed, thinking about your all but abandoned apartment as you meandered towards the stairs. "lately, yeah. i used to spend more nights at home than in his bed, but he gets really busy planning stuff in the winter and has less time to take me out." you stretched your back. "i think he likes knowing i'll be there when he gets home late. makes the day easier." 

seokmin nodded as he came back down, running a hand through his hair, thinking that he, too, would find his days easier if it meant going to bed with you every night. "that's very kind of you."

"it's selfish, i promise." he laughed. "if you saw how tiny my place is, you would choose jeonghan's too. besides, i get cold in bed alone."

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "is that why you're here?"

you giggled. "no, i'm here because you invited me over. but that might be a factor in why i'm staying," you teased, hugging him tightly.

the next day, you were sprawled on his bed, writing an accompanying essay for your composition project as he taught lessons down below, only emerging to refill your water glass and use the restroom as infrequently as possible, trying to not disturb his lessons. parents often accompanied the children, usually reading a book and listening to their child practice. a college friend of his stopped by, as he tried to do at least once a month, accompanying his niece, and seokmin recalled that he was the one that had given jeonghan his number again over a year ago, feeling like he should thank him but not knowing how.

"seokmin," you called down softly when you heard him chatting casually with his friend. you padded down the steps with your empty water glass, spotting the young girl at the kitchen table with a marker and a sheet of paper, smiling when you remembered her slightly clumsy, but surprisingly advanced keystrokes, considering her age.

"what's up?" seokmin asked, pushing off of the counter he was leaning against, and he ignored the quick, questioning nudge mingyu pushed into his side.

"hi, sorry," you said, waving lightly when you noticed the tall man beside him. "i was wondering - if you have time - if you could listen to my composition piece and tell me if you think it leans more romantic or more post-great war?"

seokmin nodded. "absolutely. do you need me now, or can it wait ten minutes?"

"it can wait," you assured, eyes darting between the two men. you lifted the glass in your hand. "i needed a break."

he smiled, taking your glass and moving to pull open the fridge. "this is mingyu, by the way. mingyu, y/n. he's an architect, also."

"also?" mingyu asked, eyeing you. seokmin stared at you, realizing what he said.

your brows ruffled as you studied the tall man's face, not recognizing it. "we must not be in the same social group. i'm a friend of jeonghan's."

he gave you silent thanks for keeping the relationship ambiguous. mingyu, however, nearly yelled. "yoon jeonghan?" he laughed. "you know, i didn't even see that guy at his own halloween party. you still keep in touch, i assume, seokmin?"

he nodded, putting your filled water glass on the counter beside you, and you wondered how you never saw mingyu at the party, either. "yeah, we hang out fairly often."

"he introduced us," you interjected. mingyu smiled between you two. "thought we'd match well, i guess."

"well, you just asked a music teacher to review your composition, so," mingyu laughed. "he was right?"

seokmin studied you with a crooked smile on his lips. "have you ever known yoon jeonghan to be wrong?"

you stayed another, more innocent night, but when seokmin woke the next morning, his face was pressed against the side of you neck, and you were pushing your ass back against his morning wood.

"fuck, good morning," seokmin groaned, hands gripping at your hips where they had already been aimlessly floating.

"oh, thank god you're awake," you panted out. you spun in his grasp, pushing his shoulder back on the bed and climbing atop him. "you must have been having a fantastic dream, because you would not stop touching me."

he couldn't help the whine in his throat, mostly from embarrassment. "i'm so sorry."

"don't be," you rushed out, peeling off your shirt. "i just need you now."

considering this was his third time seeing it, he didn't think he would be so awestruck still, but the snapshot of you, topless, seated on his lap with your hands on his chest was a view that seokmin would likely never get over, because it felt like he was the dorky, awkward protagonist and you were the long-shot love interest that was way too cool and way too hot for him in this cliché coming of age comedy.

you kissed him, and he pushed your hips down to grind against his lap, pulling a gasp from your lips. he took the opportunity to bring a hand to your neck, pulling you into open mouth kisses. you moaned without shame as you rolled your hips.

"you know what jeonghan told me?" you asked, pulling back to tug his underwear just far enough down to release the member you couldn't stop thinking about. 

you straddled his lap, hands on your thighs. seokmin pushed his bare cock against your core, the wet fabric sticking lightly to his length. "what, baby?"

"he told me he wanted you to plug me up," you breathed, biting your lip when seokmin used a thumb to pull aside your underwear and drag your wetness across his dick. you moaned. "he wanted you to fuck me senseless and tell him all about it."

seokmin groaned, neck stretching out. "i can do that."

"no, baby," you said, bringing his free hand to your face and putting a kiss in his palm before you lifted yourself up, his thumb still hooked on your panties as you rubbed the head of his cock through your folds. "i wanna fuck you."

you sunk down onto him, jaw dropping. he smiled lightly, running his hands down your thighs. "i'll let you if you can."

your toes clenched, and you tried to maintain face. "i can."

seokmin folded his arms under his head, trying to avoid the temptation of fucking up into your warmth. he sighed, breathing out a "go on, then."

you put your hands on his chest and bounced on him several times, biting at your lip at how wide he stretched you out, but taking too much pride in the way his eyes hung half lidded and his breathy groaning to stop. 

your hands went to his neck, leaning forward, lifting his head slightly off the pillow to kiss him, his hands falling from behind his head to hold yours, stopping you from pulling away. 

he moaned into your open mouth, and you backed up for only a second to blearily meet his eyes as he panted. "baby."

you nodded, stealing a few more messy kisses. "yes?"

he groaned again, your hips twisting over his. "you're like a dream."

you could feel the heat radiating off your neck and cheeks, but you just pushed on his chest to sit upright, hands landing on his thighs. you moaned again, unapologetically, as you rotated your hips over his, and he bucked into you at the angle change. "if this is the dream, please don't wake up."

seokmin had a sneaking suspicion that he was in love with you, or at the very least falling towards it. the confirmation of this fact threw itself in his face, not when you proved that you could fuck him, sitting deeply on him to push his cum further in, or when you squealed and giggled as he threw your back onto the bed so that he could pull your underwear off proper and bury his tongue in your heat, but afterwards, when he wandered into the kitchen after using the restroom and found you wearing one of his shirts, waiting as his electric kettle bubbled to life, his favorite blue mug on the counter beside a white one - the white one, he realized, with the finger heart design that he had chosen for your coffee the day prior. and he told you so, rushing to explain himself and assure you that you didn’t have to say it back, but you just hushed him and smiled, saying that you loved him too.

seokmin had to go to the entertainment company that afternoon. you walked with him to the station near his apartment and he sat you in a cab, a kiss on your lips, before he hurried down to catch his ride to work. he breathed heavily when he could finally lean against a wall in the train, having to run to catch it before the doors closed.

seokmin❣️: almost didn't make the train 🙃

you: but you did!!! proud of you 👍

seokmin❣️: thanks 🥴💕

you were both smiling after that.

he took you out to eat that weekend, as promised, and you had honestly forgotten what it was like to date people that weren't jeonghan. you liked riding the subway with him (you couldn't even remember the last time you took it), and you thought it was cute that he let you stand against a wall to keep easy balance as he stood in front of you. you were slightly impressed that he barely rocked with the movement, only grabbing an overhead loop when the train was pulling into a station.

"wait, you're especially pretty right now," he said suddenly, leaning forward to inspect your eyes.

your head hit the wall gently in reaction, flushing at his comment, wanting to bury your face in your scarf. "thank you."

he gave you his signature crooked smile. "of course."

it was cold out, but seokmin wrapped his hand over yours, shoving the whole ordeal into his coat pocket as he walked you down the street towards the restaurant he had picked. you giggled, squeezing his hand in his pocket, but he just continued telling you about which of the trainees he was working with seemed like they would debut.

"jiyoon composes, too! i'm really impressed with her actually," he said, trailing off when he saw the sign for the restaurant. "ah, here it is."

you thanked him when he held the door open for you, and you were immediately struck with the smell of tomato, cheese, and bread.

"i haven't had pizza in ages," you said excitedly, following him to a table.

"don't tell me," seokmin said, helping you take off your jacket and hanging it on a hook at the end of the booth. "you guys don't order pizza?"

you shook your head, sliding into the booth comfortably. "not often. jeonghan likes asian food."

seokmin froze as he was pulling off his jacket to stare at you. "what about you?"

"i like eating."

he laughed. "well, i like pizza."

after dinner, you insisted he come back to the house with you. he said he didn't know, thinking that you would probably need your energy for when jeonghan got home the next day. you pouted, knitting your fingers with his as the two of you stood on the sidewalk outside the pizza place.

"but i really wanna show you my record collection," you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

that was all it took.

you discovered that there was a bus stop near jeonghan's home, and while you would likely never take a bus without seokmin, you thought it was a good nugget of information to tuck away as you marched through the front door of the estate you practically called home.

"welcome to yoon manor," you joked, spinning to smile at seokmin.

he looked around, and despite having been here before, it felt grander coming through the main entrance and without the distraction of party guests. he had seen it empty briefly, from a different angle, when you were pulling him up to your bed a few weeks prior, but he realized he hadn't actually been able to see much when you were the focus of his attention.

"the kitchen's that way, there's a bathroom," you said, pointing at the opening past the stairs as you pulled off your scarf. you folded it over your arm as you walked further into the home, seokmin following you closely. you walked past a partial wall, pointing further down the hall that held the secondary living space that he originally met you in. "there's a bathroom to the left there, and if you go to the end of the hall there's an open sunroom."

seokmin looked around the room you stood in, recognizing it in bits and pieces, but it looking much different without a crowd and flashing lights.

"and this is the living room," you said, spreading your arms as you spun to him. "tv, couch, bar, and most importantly," you giggled, tugging him towards the far wall of the room, which was covered in deep toned shelving, speakers, and a record player. "my record collection."

you took off your jacket as seokmin looked around in awe, noticing you had select autographed records displayed alone on picture ledges with spotlights pointed at them. one picture ledge was empty, centered just above the player. you tossed your coat into the couch, pulling seokmin's off his shoulders as well, despite his distraction.

"these are all yours?" he asked, turning to look at you after you had discarded the coats.

you nodded, spinning the felt of the record player mindlessly as you looked around. "i actually had started a collection years ago, but i couldn't make an excuse to spend the money on it very often. jeonghan gave me a pretty good excuse. also, whenever he pissed me off, he knew he could take me to a record shop and i would forgive him."

seokmin laughed. "does that happen a lot?"

"not as often as you'd think, considering what an ass he is," you teased. you gestured to the collection. "this is my baby, though. the house is his, but this wall is mine."

"well, play me a record," seokmin requested plainly, making you smile into a laugh.

"okay," you said, scooting past him to pull out one of the many cube drawers amidst the shelving. you flipped through a few. "dancing music?"

seokmin watched your hands, humming. "slow dancing, but, like, in a nostalgic discoteque."

you thought for a second, then closed the drawer to move to a different one, quickly flipping through and finding the record you wanted. you pulled the lp out, putting the bright blue sleeve with five smiling men on the empty picture ledge.

seokmin wrapped his arms around you as you set the record, striking the play button and enjoying the whirring as the lp spun, the needle connecting and the speakers scratching to life. you spun in his grip, laying your arms over his shoulders as he pulled you away from the record stand, into a more open space to playfully dance to the soulful bass lines and pop melodies of new edition.

"this house is insane, right?" seokmin asked, squinting at you as you laughed and nodded.

"it really is. the craziest part is he's still working on it."

"really?" seokmin looked around. "what else could he wanna change?"

you let your eyes wander. "i think it's a work in progress for him. the sunroom was brand new when we met, and he added this record display last winter, when i told him i always wanted to collect. the bar is new," you pointed. "he finished that in october. the kitchen was a summer project."

he blinked heavily, trying to register. "does he do all the work himself?"

"his team helps him," you explained. "he has a few contractors he works with and they manage the construction projects, but every once in a while i wake up on a sunday and he's cutting wood in the garage because he got an idea. he drafts all the changes, usually participates in the build, and picks most of the furniture, but he has people to collect the options for him."

"and he also does all that for other people, too?" you nodded, giggling. "and has time to take you to events almost every weekend?"

"i know. i didn't understand how he found the time until i realized that he just gets paid to do his hobby."

seokmin nodded. "me too, i guess."

you grinned. "me three. you should stay with us more," you suggested, rocking with him gently. "he'll be late tomorrow, but he's working from home this week…"

"hush," seokmin chuckled. "i have to work. besides, i'm sure he wants you alone after letting me claim you while he’s been gone."

"about that," you said, pulling away slightly to give him a cheeky smile. "i haven't gotten him to admit it yet, but i think jeonghan has a crush on you."

seokmin choked out a laugh. "what? me?"

"seokmin," you started, giving him a look. "he wanted you to join us for sex. more than once."

"okay," he scoffed lightly. "people have sex just for the sex sometimes," he pointed out, but in a tone that had no chance at convincing anyone.

"sure," you giggled. "but think about it. he kept me to himself all this time, and suddenly he's encouraging us to see each other without him? asking me about everything we do together..."

he swallowed. "everything?"

"everything," you breathed, eyes trained on his lips. "he knows i'll always go back to him, and i think he's hoping i'll bring you with me."

he blinked at you, processing. "is that what you're doing? bringing me back to him?"

"only if that's something you're interested in," you stated, cocking your head.

"him, you mean?"

you thought a second. "yes?"

you watched him blink repeatedly, seemingly considering the concept. he thought back to all the nights that became early mornings, laughing and joking with the architect since before he had even an ounce of notoriety. he thought of how jeonghan had reached out to him again a few long years later, and the way he had insisted on paying every time they got food. he wondered if there had been something happening that he hadn't noticed, his oblivious nature getting the best of him again. he thought about when things changed, when they met less often and jeonghan seemed quieter around him. and months later, when he started mentioning you.

"maybe," he said finally, mind whirling. "i don't know, i've never thought about it."

you nodded, putting your arms over his shoulders and swaying lightly to the music. "take your time," you said, smiling when his forehead pressed against yours. "we'll wait for you."

[whyamiinopmhellagain]

How Dateable are the Heroes of One Punch Man?

A note, I know these kinds of things are not the only factors that make a relationship successful, but they are large ones. This is simply my take on it. 

They are all rated on a scale from one to ten. If they receive a zero, they are considered undateable for reasons that cannot be fixed through emotional growth. 

Also, this is pretty lengthy. Be warned, and happy reading!

Hit the Lotto (8-10): 

King (9.5/10): King, in my opinion, is the most dateable hero. He’s a genuinely good guy. He also seems to have a lot of common interests, such as anime and gaming, which makes him pretty chill to get along with. He’s a homebody, which means if you get close to him, he’ll want to spend more time with you, and doesn’t mind having quiet moments. In fact, I think he enjoys them more! King is not excessively arrogant, and doesn’t appear to have attachment or trust issues. He really just wants someone to love him for being him, and not for living a lie. The fear of him getting exposed, and being surrounded by the press will probably be frequent worries in the relationship, but in both cases, it seems to be protected by King’s luck powers, and the fact that he doesn’t go out much. If you can deal with those, and help him with the anxiety that comes with it, you’re golden for a happy, healthy relationship! 

Mumen Rider (9/10): Awww, look at you! You hooked a sweetie pie! He’s kind, morally strong, good hearted, and hardworking! He will not hesitate to shower you in kindness and love. He does not seem to have any attachment issues, or trouble with building trust and a healthy relationship. The major issues of this one are he’s constantly getting hurt, so you’ll never know when he’ll be in the hospital, and he’s pretty much always working. The first one is counteracted by his indomitable spirit, and how devoted he is to making the world a better place. He also would very much appreciate if you’d visit him in the hospital, and even more when he’s discharged, and still needs a little extra care (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.).The second one’s counteraction is with the fact that when he cares about something, he cares hard. If he loves you, he’d totally work to shell out those extra minutes for you, if you’re willing to do the same.

Saitama (8.5/10): This relationship is very similar to King’s! They both have the same, “we veg, we read manga, play video games and stay indoors” mentality. The same pros as King. The reason he’s ranked lower is because of very obvious depression, that is slowly getting better, but I doubt will fully ever be cured (the price he paid for his training), and there will be people breathing down his neck. If you want to be with our egg, you have to check with the toaster first. He’s very close with his Sensei, and Saitama makes it a priority to make sure he is safe and happy. Fubuki may also interfere as well, but she’s most likely no threat if you mean that much to Saitama.

Tanktop Master (8.5/10): Honestly, this man is so wholesome. The only reason he’s lower, is because we don’t know too much about his personality.  He’s strong, kind, and an excellent leader! No obvious arrogance or aggression, and seems to have the ability to just talk things out with people, I realize this relationship would also have the “always having people over” thing. Except much more active.They work out, run, wear tank-tops, and have group gatherings all the time! If you’re extroverted, and like to make friends, you two will fit perfectly! He may. also have some insecurities about his skill level. Be sure to comfort him with a warm hug, because he really is a strong boy. 

Darkshine (8.5/10): Remember what I said about Tanktop Master? Same applies to him. Wholesome, but unknown. He may have more strength and power, but his ego is much more fragile. He may need some comfort from time to time, and I’m sure he’d be happy to take in a hug and some encouraging words from you! He seems to have the ability to form healthy bonds, and build trust quickly and safely, which is necessary to a happy relationship. Overall, seems like a good time for both of you! 

Zombieman (8/10): Odds are, this is going to work out. That is, if you can break down the massive emotional barriers he’s built up. While he seems pretty chill, he knows something. He knows that everyone he loves and cares about is going to die before him. He distances himself from almost everyone, simply because he doesn’t want to be put through that pain. I feel like he’s experienced it before. Unless he starts to care about you, and when he cares, he cares HARD. He’ll be in it for the long run. If you can take the time and effort to get to know him, maybe, just maybe, he’ll invite you over for dinner with him and Child Emperor. It will grow from there, maybe he invites you over, just the two of you, watch a movie, and sit on the couch. (Personal headcanon of mine, he’s got Child Emperor, and he loves taking care of him. Maybe when he leaves the nest... he’ll want to raise one or two with you?)

Won’t be the best, but not the worst (5-7): 

Metal Bat (7/10): He’s a tough boy with a heart of pure gold! He fights very passionately for what he believes in, and won’t let anyone stop him! Except Zenko. If you want this teen’s (please remember he’s young) heart, you’re going to have to go through her. You’ll also have to be okay with the fact that most of his time is going to be devoted to taking care of her, and she’ll be around you two 90% of the time. He needs someone who can give here that sibling affection, like having a second parent. He also needs someone who can be his IQ, and his books smarts. Help him with his homework, take notes for him in class, or help Zenko study, (It probably will be a good way to win her over too), it will be very much appreciated. Also, be sure you are someone who he can be a kid with. He’s 17, and has to act like an adult. He needs time to take a break, drop Zenko off with someone, and go sit in the streets at night and eat ice cream while you both watch the street lights. Somedays, he needs a shoulder to cry on from exhaustion with his job, or panic about the future. Badd’s going to need you to help him grow. He’ll be loyal and happy with you, you just have to be patient with him, his overload of responsibilities, and his sister.

Fubuki (6.5/10): I hope you like your women in charge and powerful, because that’s what you’re going to get. She’ll be with her group, making deals and looking for more underlings. You won’t be her first priority. Don’t try to hit on her, unless you’re a higher rank than she is. Otherwise, you’re going to have to catch her attention the hard way. If you even manage to get her to see, acknowledge you, and like you, you’re not even halfway done. You have to go through the Blizzard Group. If you pass that, you must pass your hardest test, the association’s secret weapon, Tatsumaki. Older sisters do worry, and intruded. She just wants to protect her precious little sister. If you can win her over, then you have secured a necessary piece for Fubuki’s heart; she values her sister’s thoughts more than she lets on. but those people will still be there to protect her. She needs to be the strong one, because softness is a weakness. Or so she’s been taught. You’ll need to get her to open up a little. You’ll see that she has a soft side. She frets whenever Eyelashes or Wild Monkey get beat up, and buys Lily a scoop of ice cream whenever she gets a high score on any test. That doesn’t mean she’s not the leader. She wants to wear the pants in the relationship. She’s the breadwinner.  Show her how strong she is, even when she isn’t large and in charge.  If you can do that, her group will notice a difference in the way she carries herself. She’ll be a bit lighter on her feet, and have more courage to take on higher level missions by herself. She’ll be pretty tough to break into, but not completely impossible, if you know how to do it. (Side note, thanks to @metalbatandzenko​ for helping me with this one!) 

Pig God (6/10): He’s mostly just here because of mystery. We don’t know pretty much anything about him, other than he’s a good guy who likes to eat. We don’t know anything about his dark side, or what he truly values. He has been seen to be helpful, and dedicated to his job, which gives him points, but not enough to make him rank higher.  

Atomic Samurai (5.5/10): I feel like he’s not the first person anyone would go after. He’s aging, he’s busy, and can get quite arrogant. His disciples are like his kids, and if you want to be close with him, you have to go through them first. You must be good friends with them, you’ll be seeing them quite often. I see him as someone who’d want to keep his hero live and private life separate. Sure, he’d introduce you to his disciples and Silverfang, maybe take you to a party or too, but other than that, he’d keep you out of the loop for your own safety, so he won’t be around too much. He just wants someone to share a futon with. Maybe make him some dinner, and talk about regular stuff. Not everything has to be about fighting. Sometimes, he just wants someone to drink tea and meditate with, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Silverfang (5/10): He seems like a good, respectable guy. However, he’s 81. The only reason I could see someone dating him would be for a sugar daddy, because S-class makes that coin. As good as a guy he is, odds are, it’s not going to last very long. 

Yeah, this most likely won’t be healthy (1-4):

Amai Mask (4/10): This relationship seems like every fan’s dream at first. He’s tall, rich, famous, and has a great set of abs. The courting phase to his partner will seem heavenly, as the world’s biggest superstar showers them with attention. He woos them gracefully, until he deems you safe to let into his life  good enough arm candy. He’ll keep you for as long as he needs you, but still treating you like royalty in front of the cameras. In reality, he will just be throwing you under the bus for his work, and trying to cover the wounds with his money. If you (understandably) hate the treatment, and confront him about it, he’ll just tell you to leave. If you put up with it, he’ll throw you out when he needs the coverage. He just has to hope he doesn’t fall for you. He can’t let you see what lies underneath. You fell in love with Handsome Kamen Amai Mask, not [Webcomic Spoiler]. 

Genos (3/10): I don’t see this happening now. That kid is traumatized as hell, and needs to learn to cope. Losing everyone and everything is hard, which makes him cling to what he has. Right now, he’s clinging to Saitama, and coping with his past in an unhealthy way. While he is compassionate, kind, and courageous to a fault, he isn’t emotional ready to give his heart away just yet. Maybe in a couple years, when he matures and he either gets his closure on the Mad Cyborg situations, or accepts it, deals with his grief, and moves on. 

Flashy Flash (2.5/10): Yeah, no. If we’re talking about trauma, this dude just doesn’t want to accept the fact that he has it, or he knows it, and is too scared to ask for help with it. He’s arrogant, emotionally distant, downright cold sometimes. The only reason he’s higher than Tatsumaki is because I feel like he’d want a relationship in the future, if he actually admits that he needs help, and needs to let go of the past. Then, and only then, can he open himself up to other people. He’s not ready yet.  

Tatsumaki (1/10): This girl has emotional issues, is controlling, has extremely high standards, and a shit ton of trauma that all needs addressing before she enters a relationship. Also, she doesn’t cares about those kinds of relationships that much. She’s very take, and never gives. Odds are, she doesn’t want you or anyone in her life. She has a job to do, and that’s what she’s devoted too. 

Why would you? (0/10):

Watchdog Man: He’s a dude that acts and dresses like a dog, and doesn’t leave his post. That doesn’t sound super appealing at all, but to each their own, I guess.

Child Emperor: This should be obvious. 

Puri Puri Prisoner: If this guy likes you.....RUN

Drive Knight: Are y’all evil Cyborg fuckers? 

Metal Knight: He has no sympathy, empathy or compassion. He’s old, and he has a tiny dick. Why?  

-----

This post went in so many different directions. Anyway, please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, I love hearing from you all!

*Requests open! Unedited*

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

Watterson Family Dynamics (how loving families can still be lowkey toxic just saying)

Felicity called Nicole out in the episode The Egg, and while she wasn't very nice about it (god I wanted to slap that woman), she did make an interesting point about Nicole's way of thinking when it comes to her kids.  "Look Nicole, I get it, you dropped out of college to marry your childhood sweetheart and life was fun until your first disappointment. So there you are working all hours to support your family while lover boy over there is busy growing chins, then another disappointment. Followed by a third that you still dream is better than the other's, I get it. You know you'll never succeed so you want your kid to succeed for you." As mean as what Felicity said was, as out of line as she was, and as much as I wanted to punch her in the face throughout the scene...she kinda nailed the situation.  Look at the way Nicole treats her kids. Anais seems like the undisputed favorite of the three (Not that she loves Anais more, by 'favorite' I just mean that she puts more effort and attention into Anais), and it's because she's smart. Anais is a certified genius with good grades, and Nicole wants her to succeed, not only for her sake but because Nicole herself always thought she'd go to college and achieve great things and she wants to live through her own daughter in a way because it would make all her struggling worth it. But this ends up putting too much pressure onto Anais, in my opinion. Whenever the kids get into trouble, Nicole's attitude towards the boys is typically "of course you guys would do something like this" wheras her attitude towards Anais is typically "I expected better" because Anais is held to a higher standard. This is harmful to all children involved, but since we're talking about Anais right now i'll focus on the impacts on her. She's expected to always excel and to never get into trouble and to be a reasonable rational person who handles things like any intelligent adult should. But the issue with that is the fact that she isn't an adult. She's four years old. Honestly I think the stress of having to always be the responsible one takes a toll on her. She doesn't have any friends because she hasn't been allowed to develop socially. She was moved forward multiple grades, most of her free time is spent reading or doing puzzles with her mom or something, and she's expected to always be smarter than everyone else. And one downside to this is that Anais takes this a bit too far. She treats other people like they're below her, often treating her brother's like idiots. But I don't even think this is her fault, really. She may be held to a higher standard than those around her but she's also given much more praise and she's just generally treated like she's better than the other's. I mean once Richard literally said to her "How does it feel to be better than everyone else? I say that because I genuinely think you are." and if everyone genuinely thinks she's amazing, well she's bound to feel the same way. And I don't even think it's just that she's got a big ego because people put too much praise on her. I also, genuinely believe that the reason she always has to remind people that she's the smart responsible superior one is because she's compensating. Anais may be a genius, but she's also a little kid who sleeps with a stuffed animal and wants to make friends like other kids do. She's not really allowed to just be a kid, though. At least she's not allowed to as much as other people around her- including her brother's- are. And I think one reason she's always reminding them and herself that she's superior is because she wants to convince everyone (but mostly herself) that it's worth it. She may be missing out on some things, but at least she's not like them. That's how she justifies things to herself. One thing about Felicity's rant, though, that made me pause, is her referring to Darwin as a disappointment. I always kinda put him up there with Anais. He's no genius, but he's social and polite and his parents seem proud enough of him too. But the thing is, good behavior isn't really a talent. Nicole can't live through him in his morality because her goals that she tries to live out through Anais always had to do with success and education and skill, which isn't Darwin's thing. Yet I couldn't help wonder about how he can both be the "adorable pride and joy of my life" according to Richard, and "a disappointment". And then I realized that they're not measuring Darwin on the same scale as Anais. Maybe before she was born Nicole would have latched on to one of the boys, but she's got her little prodigy and doesn't need to live through the boys. The best thing a child can be in that household is gifted, but the second best thing they could be is behaved. And Darwin has that down. Sure, he's no genius. But Darwin Watterson is a sweet, morally driven, innocent little kid who does what his parents say most of the time. And they love him for it. He's social, he's got relationships with those around him. He stays out of trouble so his family has no reason to resent him and he constantly throws affection at them which is, of course, appreciated given how big everyone's ego's are. I honestly think he's under quite a bit of pressure too, though. Weather because he doesn't want to be seen as a lost cause like his brother or because of his preexisting fear of abandonment (or both), Darwin seems almost obsessive over being a good person. Not like he's actually, legitimately just a kind sweet boy, but like he desperately wants to come across as one to other people. When you think about Darwin you think "oh, he would never hurt a fly", but really? The kid who kicked Rob into a pothole to avoid talking to him? The kid who kidnapped a woman to blackmail her son? The kid who knocked out school staff without hesitation? That kid? He doesn't have any issue hurting people or doing morally questionable things, but somehow whenever people think of him they still think 'sweet babie'. Why? That's because it's the front he puts on. I'm not saying Darwin is some sort of psychopath who's fooling the world or anything. In fact I think he genuinely believes he's a morally driven person. I think he genuinely cares about doing what's right too. However I can't help but notice that it seems a bit...calculated, the way he occasionally drops his sweet act to fuck someone up. Not even drops his act, really, just fucks someone up while still innocently smiling as if he's done nothing questionable whatsoever. And is it really...a coincidence that he does these things when it seems like it won't have any social repercussions for him and only when it seems like it won't have any social repercussions for him? And in such a way that he still manages to look like a complete saint after? I don't think so. I think he's boarderline obsessed with just..looking good. I mean think about some of the things he's done that were well intentioned.Like when Bobert confided in Gumball and Darwin that he was having trouble fitting in because people treated him like he was different, so they decided to be his friends. That episode was actually super interesting because it brought up the question on weather you should treat kids with mental limitations differently from anyone else and examined both sides. Gumball treated Bobert like he would anybody else and while he wasn't exactly treating Bobert the best (Bobert lost a bet against Gumball and the deal was 'whoever loses is the winners slave for the day' so Gumball was milking that), I feel like his attitude of "Well he asked not to be treated like he's special, and i'd do this to anyone else, because Bobert is just like anyone else?" was worlds better than Darwin saying "Yeah but he's special and we need to treat him like he is, he wants to feel included but that doesn't mean actually include him, it means hang out with him and treat him like he's made of glass because he's a little different than us" because it almost felt like Darwin was condescending Bobert throughout the episode. In fact, I think Gumball outright called him out for treating Bobert like a charity case instead of a friend because Darwin was basically hanging out with Bobert cause he felt bad for him and wanted to feel good for hanging out with a 'special kid' wheras Gumball was genuinely trying to hang out with Bobert because he's their classmate and friend, yknow? In another episode their other classmate, Sussie, is being bullied and Gumball is like "well let's go fight the bullies" but Darwin stopped him and was like "No, Sussie's making herself a target by being a weirdo, let's just have her change her entire personality and physical appearance :)". Darwin does the right thing to feel good about himself. Because he knows he's expected to be a precious little angel, but he doesn't pay much mind to people's actual feelings towards his actions, but rather the social repercussions of them and weather or not what he did is generally deemed 'good' or not.This obsession with looking good isn't just Darwin being a terrible person, though. It's likely because there's been so much value put into him being well behaved at home and his insecurities and abandonment issues caused the kid to grab on to what he knew would make people like him and he ran with it because he really really wanted people to like him, and I feel like the fact that his parents specifically value him being the sweet one really adds to his need to look perfect and moral.

 And then there's Gumball, also described as a "disappointment",and yeah, he doesn't really have any skills for their mother to grab on to, and he's....he's not as well behaved as his brother. Gumball's reckless and impulsive and he gets into trouble. And his parents have kinda decided that he's just a lost cause. In The Fridge when asked if he had any talents he grinned and said "I guess i'm just good at being happy" to which his mother snapped at him with "That's not good enough!". And it's not. His family still love him and all, but they don't see the value in fostering the talents he does have. He's just kinda known as "the dumb one" and "the loser" and "the lost cause". He's the disappointment, just like Felicity said, and it shines through in how he's treated. When Richard complimented the kids Anais was "better than everyone else" and Darwin was the "adorable pride and joy" whereas Richard said to Gumball "How does it feel to not have inherited your father's metabolism?" and that's not an insult, which is what Richard was going for, but it seems kinda lackluster compared to the other two? And that's because Gumball isn't seen to have any real...positive traits by his family. I could name a million great things about him, and i'm sure if you asked any one of his family members they'd say "oh yeah he's got good traits" but you know what? I bet they also couldn't name a single one. Anais thinks he's a moron, Darwin thinks he's a selfish asshole, his mom thinks he's a loser. The family insult each other all the time but what makes it different with Gumball is that normally they compliment each other just as much as they insult each other, but I can't remember Gumball ever getting a legitimate compliment. And no, thanking him for doing one specific thing right or telling him they love him isn't the same thing. I mean an adjective used to describe him positively like Anais is constantly called smart or Darwin is always called sweet or Nicole is always called a badass. I can hardly think of that sort of thing happening except maybe a few times from Darwin telling him he looked cool in a specific outfit or something. And I know i'm harping a lot on the fact that he doesn't get specific compliments and it doesn't seem like it matters because as said before he is told by his family a lot that they love him and he is often thanked for doing specific things good and isn't that enough? And the thing about the whole 'compliments' thing is that it shows the mindset of his family. They love him because of course he does, he's part of the family. They appreciate it when he does a good thing because of course they do. But no matter how much affection is present when they think about him, it doesn't change the fact that all he hears about himself is negative things. When his sister tells him he doesn't have any type of intelligence and tells him that he'll never make it to college and flat out calls him an idiot regularly and he's also hearing how dumb he is from school staff who 'knew it was a good idea to give up on Gumball early' and he's also hearing from his mom all the time how dumb he is compared to his sister and how his entire future probably relies on her and how she's 'the difference between you ending up in penn state or state penn' but nobody ever tells either of them that there are things he's good at that she isn't, or even that he's mildly capable of basic thought or having a future what the hell is he supposed to think besides that he's just dumb and doesn't have potential? When his brother's always telling him off for being selfish and insists he's a coward and a loser and a bad friend and his mother spends more time scolding him for everything than praising him for anything and has multiple times implies he's not only a loser but a disappointment too, what on earth is he supposed to think besides that he's a bad person who people don't want to be around? I mean why do ya'll think he's just completely given up on his school work? Why do you think he's afraid of trying to do anything because he thinks he'll fail (like when he wouldn't try out for a solo in the school band because he was sure he'd fail and couldn't handle that even though we know for a fact that he's very musically gifted)? It's not just who he is. He isn't just a lazy kid with no potential. He doesn't try because that's what people have convinced him he is, and his self esteem and any work ethic he may have had is suffering. He's suffering. It's a bad situation and no amount of love will make up for the huge blows to his self worth that come with being part of this family.

Do I think the family is awful? Do I think Nicole is a horrible mother? Do I think the kids should resent her? No. No, absolutely not. This family LOVES each other a fucking lot. But the dynamic is toxic nonetheless from my analysis of the situation and I think there needs to be some improvements made. They need to lower the pressure put on Anais, let her be a kid more often, and let her develop her social skills. They need to tackle Darwin's abandonment issues and let him know he'll still be wanted even if he isn't the picture of perfect moral standard at all time. They need to let Gumball know that he's actually worth something and that he's got good qualities and that he shouldn't give up on himself. But I don't know if that'll happen because Nicole is so invested in Anais accomplishing all she never could and Darwin being so well behaved makes life so much easier than any mischief he may get into if he weren't so afraid to so it's easy to just let his issues go and nobodies teaching Gumball not to give up on himself because most everyone in his life has given up on him ever being successful too.

[ooffies]

gumdropfairy matchup request~

Hello! May I request a matchup? Sorry if it is too long. ><

Synopsis: I come off as distant and awkward. I don’t talk much and if I do, I am agreeable and soft-spoken. I would say I am sensitive, transparent, emotional, understanding, curious, carefree, and clumsy. I am expressive and am not afraid to show my feelings, people would say I am an open book. I always cry at sad movies or scenes where you're supposed to cry. I have 4 siblings and it's fun but tiring at the same time, I'm the butt of every joke and am treated like the youngest. I also like to tease those I am very close with. I am expressive and (sometimes childish) with those I am very close to and agreeable with the general public. In a group work setting, I am diligent and reasonable when doing my job.

Habits/Interests/Dreams: I say 'what the heck' a lot, it's a habit tbh. I rant when I am passionate. A dream of mine is to enjoy life with people I love, to travel, capture beautiful scenery and eat lots of sweets! I like learning about international cultures, languages and funky things like did you know smelling your own fart prevents  Alzhimer's disease because of hydrogen sulfide and egg-smells? LOL.

Travel, psychology, and society-related documentaries interests me. I am currently a (elementary) A2 level Korean, I want to study more of the language because I like Korean music and culture. The concept of time travel, multitudes of reality and isekai worlds intrigue and fascinate me, I like reading fictional stuff about it. I have good knowledge of geography. My siblings always tease me when the number 13 shows because.....I want to always avoid the number and really hate that number. I used to do judo in high school and I have a fascination with martial arts. :D

Likes/Dislikes: I like pastels, sunsets, flowers, photography, sweets, fried foods, skincare, sparkly stuff, lip gloss, memes, dad jokes and games.

I dislike it when people assume things about me like they know me (when they really don't), condescending people, ignorance, waking up early and seafood. I like my freedom and want to be independent, and dislike it immensely being forced to do something I don't want to do. I really don't like listening to lectures (doesn't everyone though?). I'm not academically inclined but I have decent grades. I really don't like math and chemistry T_T

In depth: I am pretty sensitive when people criticize or judge me only if it's constructive but if it is outright just to insult me than I will say something bc that upsets the heck outta me. Because I have such a big immediate family (there's 7 of us) I am family-oriented so playing Obey Me really reminds me a lot of my family(esp siblings I have 4). In fact, I do get irritated easily and I am working on my short-temper. I am understanding and always try my best to not look at things just in my perspective but others as well. I am pessimistic in nature but I do genuinely want to see the good in people and in life. When thinking about my feelings and knowing the why I feel the way I do and how it affects others, you could say there is emotional intelligence. :)

My insecurity without a doubt is caring too much on what people think of me and how content I am with myself. I think this is because of me, my past "friends" who judged me so critically which had a negative effect on how I see myself. Because of that, I have very few friends. In fact, I don't really have any. I kind of just lost my self of self and trust for people. And my insecurity with of how unrefined, incompetent or unlikable I am, I've been told a lot to "grow up" and "stop asking dumb questions."

I want to be loved and not to be judged so harshly. Since I am slowly becoming an adult I have to discard my awkward, playful tendencies in front of others. 

Hobbies: otome games, learning Korean, pilates/ workout videos, eating, and bothering my siblings

My Fangirl self: I am a big fan of Avatar:The Last Airbender and One Punch Man (Genos is husbando material lol). I also really like Free and Haikyuu. Hot 2D men, babies, and puppies are my weaknesses. I read a lot of romance, isekai, and action webtoons/mangas and like watching it too.

Appearance wise, I'm 163 cm, and Asian so I have medium standard straight dark hair, round brown eyes, and I'm slim. 

Thank you!~

♡-------------------------------------------------------♡

Hey hey! Sorry for the really long wait! Let's get right to it!

I match you with......................... Beelzebub!

He loves learning about you and the things you love! Every day he feels that he learns something new about you! He loves listening to you talk about your passions and interests. You two also talk about your families and being the youngest siblings.

You two are fried food buddies, always trying new fried creations and you guys sometimes even fry random things so you can try them! Lets just say that fired toothpaste idea Beel had wasn't his best fried food idea.......

Beel once ate a whole tube of your lip gloss once cause it "smelled good". He felt super bad after that a bought you a bunch of your favorite lip gloss as an apology.

Always gets worried when you cry, even if it's at a sad scene in a movie. He's always there to comfort you when you're angry or stressed. He gives the best hugs in the world.

You actually got hom into Avatar the last Airbender. He enjoyed the show a whole lot and he nows comes to you for show recommendations cause he says you have a good taste in TV shows.

He loves hugging and holding you. When you two are out in public together, he is always holding your hand. His favorite place to kiss you is your lips and his favorite place to be kissed by you is his cheek!

@gumdropfairy I hope you enjoyed it and once again sorry for the wait! This whole pandemic really has me stressed and feeling down, I was really unmotivated. But now I'm feeling better and will try to write at least one match up every day! Thanks for the request have a lovely rest of your day!😊-ooffies💛

Match up requests: closed

Asks: open!

[sciencespies]

Baby mantis shrimp can throw knockout punches at just 9 days old

https://sciencespies.com/nature/baby-mantis-shrimp-can-throw-knockout-punches-at-just-9-days-old/

Baby mantis shrimp can throw knockout punches at just 9 days old

Mantis shrimp wield a spring-loaded appendage that punches through water with explosive force – and their babies can start swinging just nine days after they hatch.

In a new study, published Thursday (April 29) in the Journal of Experimental Biology, scientists studied larval Philippine mantis shrimp (Gonodactylaceus falcatus) originally collected from Oahu, Hawaii.

The team also reared some of the same species from eggs, carefully monitoring their development through time and then zooming in on their punching appendage under the microscope.

The appendage, called the raptorial appendage, works similarly to a bow and arrow, in that the tip of the appendage gets pulled back, “nocked” against a spring-like mechanism and then let loose in a sudden release of elastic energy, said first author Jacob Harrison, a graduate student in the biology program at Duke University.

“While we have a pretty great understanding of how it functions in the adults … we didn’t really have a solid understanding of how it develops,” Harrison told Live Science.

Related: Smash! Super-stabby mantis shrimp shows off in video

Now, in a “remarkably complete and carefully controlled” study, Harrison and his team have started to unravel the mystery of when mantis shrimp start throwing down like lightning-fast boxers, said Roy Caldwell, a professor of integrative biology at the University of California, Berkeley, who was not involved in the study.

A larval mantis shrimp punching at 20,000 frames per second. (The Company of Biologists, Harrison et al., J. Exp. Biol., 2021)

And furthermore, since larval mantis shrimp have transparent shells, “what’s new about this study is [that] the transparency of the raptorial apparatus allows them to see in great detail exactly what’s going on,” Caldwell said.

“That hasn’t been possible in looking at adults,” whose exoskeleton is opaque, he said.

Slower than expected, but still impressive 

When adult mantis shrimp unleash a flurry of strikes, the tips of their appendages can slice through the water at about 50 mph (80 km/h), according to National Geographic.

But a mathematical model, published in 2018 in the journal Science, hinted that baby mantis shrimp might throw even faster punches than adults, assuming they take up boxing at a young age. 

This model, developed in the same lab Harrison works in, zoomed in on the spring mechanism mantis shrimp use to deliver punishing blows.

“We see these mechanisms all over biology,” from jumping frogs and insects to stinging jellyfish that fire venom-filled capsules into their prey, Harrison noted. 

The model hinted that these spring-loaded mechanisms should generally become less efficient at larger scales, and therefore, smaller springs with less mass should generate higher acceleration when let loose.

Another model that specifically focused on mantis shrimp revealed a similar result, indicating that larger mantis shrimp species strike more slowly than smaller species, the researchers reported in 2016 in the Journal of Experimental Biology. 

Harrison and his team wanted to see if these models held up in larval mantis shrimp, since of course, they’re smaller than adults of their species. So the team searched for tiny, translucent mantis shrimp in Hawaii in the dead of night.

“If you go out where you can find adult mantis shrimp, you can actually stick a light in the water, and mantis shrimp will come like a moth to a flame,” Harrison said. That said, larval crabs, shrimp and fish also flock to the light and get scooped up in the same buckets as the mantis shrimp; so therein lies the challenge.

These free-swimming shrimp larvae had matured enough to exit the burrow in which they hatched, so they tended to be at least 9 to 14 days old at the time of capture, Harrison noted.

To collect data on even younger mantis shrimp, Harrison also collected an egg clutch from a female G. falcatus found at Wailupe Beach Park. The eggs hatched in transit on their way to Duke University, but the team still managed to raise the puny mantis shrimp for 28 days in their lab.

Related: Six bizarre feeding tactics from the depths of our oceans

With mantis shrimp in hand, the team carefully observed how the larvae developed through time. G. falcatus larvae were previously known to progress through six larval stages, each marked by the larva molting its exoskeleton. The team found that, in the first and second larval stages, the larvae huddled together at the bottom of the tank; by the third stage, they began swimming but did not throw any punches. 

But by the fourth stage, around day 9 to 14, “larvae began striking and ‘waving’ their raptorial appendages as they swam through the water,” the authors wrote in their report.

At this point, the raptorial appendages had fully formed and closely resembled an adult’s, in terms of structure, and the larvae also began snacking on larval brine shrimp that the team provided. Each larva measured about the size of a grain of rice at this juncture.

The team shot high-speed, high-resolution video of the strikes by the older larval mantis shrimp they’d scooped from the ocean, to see just how they hurl their appendages through water. This required placing the rice-size larvae into a custom rig and securing them with glue, so they’d stay in frame and in focus.

The footage enabled the team to not only examine the speed and mechanics of each punch, but also to watch as elements of the spring mechanism slid to and fro under the transparent exoskeleton. 

“What we found was that they could produce really high accelerations and velocities relative to their body size,” Harrison said.

These metrics specifically measure how rapidly the larvae appendages can transition from stillness to striking, so in this respect, the larvae were “roughly on par with a lot of the adult species,” he said.

However, in terms of their overall speed, the larval strikes only traveled about 0.9 mph (1.4 k/h) – an order of magnitude slower than the adult strikes. 

“The finding that was a little bit surprising was that the speed of the strike is less than what we see in adults,” Caldwell said.

This difference in speed may be related to the actual materials making up the spring, he said; perhaps the spring itself or the “latch” that nocks the appendage in place, differs in larval and adult mantis shrimp, limiting the amount of elastic energy that the larvae can deploy. 

Related: Dangers in the deep: 10 scariest sea creatures

The water surrounding the mantis shrimp may also impact their striking speed, Harrison suggested.

To teeny marine creatures, like larvae, water feels quite viscous, more like molasses than water as we experience it, he said. It may be that, as mantis shrimp mature, they can better overcome the stickiness of the water and execute faster strikes.

And despite being slower than adults, the larvae still threw punches that were five to 10 times faster than the reported swimming speeds of similarly sized organisms and more than 150 times faster than their favorite brine shrimp snacks can swim, the authors wrote.

Evolutionarily, there may not be much pressure for larvae to increase their striking speed before reaching maturity, Caldwell said.

The study is also limited in that the team only collected video of defensive strikes, provoked by irritating the larvae with a toothpick, Caldwell noted. “We know, in adults, there’s considerable ability to modulate the strength of the strike depending on what it’s being used for,” whether that be defense, or capturing or stabbing prey, he said. So the speed of the strike may differ somewhat, depending on its purpose.

Looking forward, Harrison and his team plan to probe what factors limit the larval mantis shrimps’ striking speed, as well as when the shrimp overcome this limitation in the course of development, he said. They also want to examine whether the raptorial appendage develops similarly across the hundreds of mantis shrimp species, he added. 

“The larval stomatopods,” another term for mantis shrimp, “are basically a black box, we know very little about them,” Caldwell noted. “Almost anything done on larval stomatopods is new and interesting … They’ve just literally scratched the surface in terms of looking at morphology.”

Related Content:

Image gallery: Magnificent mantis shrimp

Photos: The amazing eyes of the mantis shrimp

Photos: Ancient shrimp-like critter was tiny but fierce 

This article was originally published by Live Science. Read the original article here.

#Nature

[dongboner2999]

Strangers ch. 39

Yoongi comforts you, and you sit down for the interview.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: fluff, angst

|mlist|

<–– Prev   Next ––>

“I have to go,” you mumble, shivering. From thousands of miles away, you hear the clattering of your phone to the floor. You feel cold, so, so, so cold. Sure, you haven’t heard from her today, but on Friday, yesterday– she picked you up from work. How could so much have gone wrong in such a short time? You have to go… but where?

“Y/n.”

And Lisa, the one friend who’s been with you through it all, who forgave you so easily for every single lie and secret; the best friend since forever, who got you all your acting jobs, protected you, helped you during that icy near-death night–

“Y/n, open your eyes.” She seems to know you better than you know yourself, always able to read your mind, that Lisa, your Lisa, your best friend…

“Y/n.” You feel a strong hand grasp your chin and you gasp, eyes flying open. You don’t remember closing them, and now you find yourself face-to-face with Yoongi and his eternally deep brown eyes. You’re so used to seeing Yoongi’s expression clouded by amusement that the worry now evident in his gaze seems out of place. Ever so slightly, he tilts your head up just a little, until all you see is him. “It’ll be okay.”

Tears fill your eyes and quickly spill over. Yoongi’s your friend too– what if he goes missing as well? “She’s gone. Fuck, she’s gone. She’s gone, and– what if it’s my fault?” You move away from him, burying your face in your hands, allowing the fear to overwhelm you. You’re crying, scared, cold, alone. And Lisa… “She’s gone!”

“Shh…” Yoongi leans forward and wraps his arms around you. He’s warm, and it takes you a moment to realize you’ve stopped shivering. “It’s no one’s fault. Did you hear me, y/n? Lisa’s an adult. We don’t know what happened yet. The police are taking care of it, you heard that detective. Just take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You try to draw in a shaky breath, but it proves too much for you: short, shallow gasps are all you can manage as you feel the tears continue to roll freely down your cheeks. “I can’t– I can’t. Yoongi, if she’s hurt, if she’s worse–”

Yoongi flinches, as though you’ve struck a nerve. “Believe me, I know how you feel… not knowing if someone is okay. Blaming yourself. Scared that you’ve lost her, scared that you can’t help.” As he continues to speak, your hear his voice changing into something softer, more raw. “Scared you’ll never see her again.”

You sniffle, wiping your eyes. The last time you saw Yoongi so sorrowful was… well, that night.

Yoongi shakes himself out of his stupor. “I mean… she’ll be fine. Just tell the police what you know, stay in the loop. There’s nothing else you can do.”

“Y-yeah. You’re right.” You rub your eyes furiously, willing the tears to stop. Breaking down now won’t help Lisa. You’ll take the morning off from filming Moon Over the Sea tomorrow for your interview with Detective Kang– she can’t really be missing, you saw her yesterday. What on earth could have happened?

She’s gone. Could it have been your fault? No, no, listen to Yoongi. It’s no one’s fault. But… did she run away? Was she kidnapped? How will you sleep knowing she could be in danger?

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…” even to your own ears, your voice sounds small. You don’t know the last time you felt such dread– and you don’t want to be alone. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Yoongi rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “Of course. You want me to set up the extra bed in Jungkook’s room?”

“No, I’ll sleep on the couch.” Yoongi’s unwavering voice is so reassuring, and while you’re still stressed about Lisa, it’s nice to know you have another ally at your side. 

“Whatever you want. The guys should be back soon anyways– we’ll all be together, just like old times.”

Just like old times… the first time you slept over here was the night after Xiumin cheated on you. You went so hard on the vodka that you barely remember the evening at all, which is probably a good thing. Your memories flicker to the dream you had that night– it was so vivid that even after all this time, you remember that perfectly. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for everything.” You yawn, your eyes stinging with the memory of your tears. Lisa… 

“You don’t need to thank me, dork,” Yoongi ruffles your hair, pressing his lips together in a half-smile. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Mm.” You yawn again. “I once had a dream that I kissed you.”

Yoongi freezes. “Uh, what?”

“What?” Wait, did you– did you really just– fuck. “L-Like in Moon Over The Sea!” You squeak, fumbling for your phone. Why did you say that? “I had this weird dream about our characters, and uh… the other members and Lisa were in it.” You feel a pang at the thought of your friend. All that should matter now is Lisa. So why’d you have to embarrass Yoongi?

Dammit, y/n, you can’t fuck up this friendship too. “It was crazy, um, I could fly, and you turned green, and–”

“Y/n.”

You gulp, too nervous to meet your friend’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“You made up the rest of that, didn’t you? it’s okay. It was just a dream.” Yoongi chuckles a little. “Plus, it makes sense– you used to be a fan. You don’t have to worry, and–” he tweaks your nose. “Even though I know your damned instinct is to lie, I’m glad you told me.”

“Why?”

Yoongi shrugs. “More material to tease you with.”

“Hey!” You punch him playfully, feeling some tension ease from your shoulders. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep tonight after all. 

Yoongi seems to sense the same, standing up and stretching. “Get some rest. I’ll text the guys that you’re staying over. Want me to come with you to the police station tomorrow?”

“No, you still need to be onset for filming, and I–” your breath catches in your throat. “I have to do this alone.”

Yoongi snickers. “Drama queen.”

You laugh weakly, grateful for his efforts to distract you. “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Sleep well, y/n. I’d say dream of me, but…” Yoongi winks. “I guess you’ve got that one down.”

~~~

You spend the night tossing about restlessly, catching only hours of sleep at a time, your mind a foggy mix between reality and dreams– and at some points you can’t tell which is which.

~

Taehyung and Jimin walk in. “Is she sleeping?”

“I think so.”

~

Yoongi is pressing you up against a wall, his mouth an inch from yours, one hand on your waist and the other on the wall. “What do you want, y/n?”

~

Lisa pokes you in the cheek. “When are you going to come find me? This is all your fault, you know.”

~

You’re falling, falling eternally, the darkness beneath you echoing the sounds of notifications, the sounds of hatred. “Worthless…” 

“Talentless…”

“Social-climbing slut…”

“Kill yourself…”

~

“Hey, do you think this would explode if I microwaved it?”

“Dude, no! She’s still asleep!”

~

All seven members sit at a long desk, and you stand in front of them nervously. 

One by one, each extends a hand and shows a thumbs-down. Last to go is Yoongi, who sighs. “That’s the way the cookie crumbles.” And he, too, flashes you a thumbs down.

~

“Do you think she’d like some eggs?”

“I dunno, man, I think she’s crying.”

“So… yes to the eggs?”

~

“Come find me…”

~

“Gah!” You shoot into an upright position, your heart beating dangerously fast.

“Y/n!” Seokjin says brightly from the kitchen. “You’re awake! Want some eggs?”

“I, um…” you sniff, wiping your eyes. Have you been crying? “I’ll get something on the way. I have to go.”

“Do you need to borrow some clothes? I think either Yoongi or Jimin-ssi’s shirts will fit you– I’ll go grab you one, okay?”

You nod gratefully at the eldest member as he pads down the hall. You’re going to be interviewed by Detective Kang today– and you don’t know what to expect. But surely if you tell him you saw Lisa just two days ago, he’ll understand that this must be some sort of misunderstanding, right?

You’re quick to arrive at the police station– hair brushed, eyes dry, shirt smelling faintly of Yoongi. You forgot to eat anything, but how can you be hungry when Lisa needs your help

“I’m here to meet with Detective Kang?” You ask the man at the front desk, who points you towards an office door labeled MISSING PERSONS UNIT.

You knock cautiously, and the door swings open to reveal a burly man who would seem intimidating, if not for his warm smile. “L/n y/n? Come on in.” You enter, settling into the chair across the desk.

“Let’s get right down to it,” Detective Kang says. “This conversation is confidential to the public– you may not disclose details of this case. If I feel your testimony may be relevant to the inquiry, I’ll record it. Finally, you may have a lawyer present if you wish, and you are not legally required to be here– you may leave at any time.”

You nod. “I understand.”

“Alright. Two weeks ago, Ms. Manoban’s mother reported her missing. The Seoul Arts administration also attempted to report her disappearance by calling her emergency contact– but, Ms. L/n, Lalisa Manoban’s emergency contact was listed as you.”

Your brows knit together. “What?”

“And we found this information had been changed recently, within the last two months. Do you have any idea why this might be?”

“N-no.” You shake your head. “Her parents should have been her contacts. They have a good relationship– she didn’t even tell me she made me her emergency contact.”

“Have you been contacted by the Seoul Arts administration?”

You look down guiltily. You muted calls from admin a while ago, since they were usually automated calls about some event or fundraiser or another. “I... haven’t checked.”

“I see.” Detective Kang makes a note before continuing: “Three weeks ago, Ms. Manoban’s credit card was used to book a flight to New York.”

“What?”

“But she never boarded the flight. She is, by all accounts, still here in Korea.”

“Wait, can’t you, like, track her phone? Trace her credit card?” How could she have been reported missing a fortnight ago when you saw her on Friday?

“Well, the thing is, the last charge on her credit card is that plane ticket. Two weeks ago, a card was found on a side street and confirmed to belong to Ms. Manoban. And her phone has been turned off since the report, although we got some activity on it two days ago. The problem is before yesterday, the last location we could trace it to was a pawn shop outside of Seoul, known for dealing in stolen items. So… well, it’s very likely that the activity wasn’t hers.”

“It was,” you interrupt. “Two days ago, Lisa called me. And I saw her in person.”

“What?” The detective’s jaw drops, and you see him work to regain his composure. “Hm- are you sure?”

“She’s my best friend,” you reply defensively. “I’m sure.”

“That… that changes things.” Detective Kang rubs his chin thoughtfully. “May I know the circumstances of your last interaction?”

“Well, on Friday she picked me up from work to take me to another job. I’m an actress,” you add hurriedly, “And Lisa’s been working like my manager, basically.”

“I see. Go on.”

“She called me after work– must have been six or seven in the evening– that she had a project that she needed to work on and couldn’t pick me up.” You hold out your phone and show him your call history. “Then on Saturday, yesterday, I didn’t hear from her. That’s when you called–” you shrug. The rest is history.

“So she’s still got her phone, then…” Detective Kang is quick to type something into his computer. “Miss L/n, I’m going to show you photographs of the locations in which Miss Manoban’s credit card was found, and her last phone activity. Can you tell me if you recognize these places?”

“Uh, sure,” you reply, watching as he slides his laptop over to you. You don’t have any clue how it’ll help, though. Detective Kang pulls up several images. 

“This is where her credit card was found, and here’s the location we traced her phone activity to on Friday. Do you recognize either area?”

Your eyes widen. Oh, shit.

[obeymematches]

gumdopfairy matchup request~

Hello! May I request a matchup? Sorry if it is too long. ><

Synopsis: I come off as distant and awkward. I don’t talk much and if I do, I am agreeable and soft-spoken. I would say I am sensitive, transparent, emotional, understanding, curious, carefree, and clumsy. I am expressive and am not afraid to show my feelings, people would say I am an open book. I always cry at sad movies or scenes where you’re supposed to cry. I have 4 siblings and it’s fun but tiring at the same time, I’m the butt of every joke and am treated like the youngest. I also like to tease those I am very close with. I am expressive and (sometimes childish) with those I am very close to and agreeable with the general public. In a group work setting, I am diligent and reasonable when doing my job.

Habits/Interests/Dreams: I say ‘what the heck’ a lot, it’s a habit tbh. I rant when I am passionate. A dream of mine is to enjoy life with people I love, to travel, capture beautiful scenery and eat lots of sweets! I like learning about international cultures, languages and funky things like did you know smelling your own fart prevents  Alzhimer’s disease because of hydrogen sulfide and egg-smells? LOL.

Travel, psychology, and society-related documentaries interests me. I am currently a (elementary) A2 level Korean, I want to study more of the language because I like Korean music and culture. The concept of time travel, multitudes of reality and isekai worlds intrigue and fascinate me, I like reading fictional stuff about it. I have good knowledge of geography. My siblings always tease me when the number 13 shows because…..I want to always avoid the number and really hate that number. I used to do judo in high school and I have a fascination with martial arts. :D

Likes/Dislikes: I like pastels, sunsets, flowers, photography, sweets, fried foods, skincare, sparkly stuff, lip gloss, memes, dad jokes and games.

I dislike it when people assume things about me like they know me (when they really don’t), condescending people, ignorance, waking up early and seafood. I like my freedom and want to be independent, and dislike it immensely being forced to do something I don’t want to do. I really don’t like listening to lectures (doesn’t everyone though?). I’m not academically inclined but I have decent grades. I really don’t like math and chemistry T_T

In depth: I am pretty sensitive when people criticize or judge me only if it’s constructive but if it is outright just to insult me than I will say something bc that upsets the heck outta me. Because I have such a big immediate family (there’s 7 of us) I am family-oriented so playing Obey Me really reminds me a lot of my family(esp siblings I have 4). In fact, I do get irritated easily and I am working on my short-temper. I am understanding and always try my best to not look at things just in my perspective but others as well. I am pessimistic in nature but I do genuinely want to see the good in people and in life. When thinking about my feelings and knowing the why I feel the way I do and how it affects others, you could say there is emotional intelligence. :)

My insecurity without a doubt is caring too much on what people think of me and how content I am with myself. I think this is because of me, my past “friends” who judged me so critically which had a negative effect on how I see myself. Because of that, I have very few friends. In fact, I don’t really have any. I kind of just lost my self of self and trust for people. And my insecurity with of how unrefined, incompetent or unlikable I am, I’ve been told a lot to “grow up” and “stop asking dumb questions.”

I want to be loved and not to be judged so harshly. Since I am slowly becoming an adult I have to discard my awkward, playful tendencies in front of others. Even though I have low self-esteem it bothers me when being told that I did something or said something, it discredits my character and what gives one the right to tell me what I did or said when I know myself more than them?

Relationships: I honestly never had a boyfriend or any real close, close friends but I have a very close sibling who I grew up since I was an infant and it’s my younger sister (only by 16 months). She is truly my best friend and sister. I tend to like who are confident but also cool, they’re not domineering. I also find myself liking those who are opposite from me. The airheadness in me juxtaposed with my partner’s grounded nature. I’m pretty reckless and clumsy myself so it’d make sense if someone is reasonable and well-coordinated which would balance us out. My pessimism balanced with his optimism and/or realism.

I can offer my close companionship, humor, someone to listen to your troubles/ranting, and someone you can have ramen with and have conversations about anything without having restraint. Someone who I can be free with. Someone who can accept my flaws and who can help me improve myself and I would do the same for them.

We can laugh together, spend time with each other, make each other cry, fight and be there for each other when we are feeling low. A best friend and a partner for life, someone who would not harshly constrain, judge or tear me down as an individual. Wow, I am crying writing this. I am so idealistic about what I want in my relationships mainly because I never had one but deep down, I don’t think it’s like that in real life.

Hobbies: otome games, learning Korean, pilates/ workout videos, eating, and bothering my siblings

My Fangirl self: I am a big fan of Avatar:The Last Airbender and One Punch Man (Genos is husbando material lol). I also really like Free and Haikyuu. Hot 2D men, babies, and puppies are my weaknesses. I read a lot of romance, isekai, and action webtoons/mangas and like watching it too. 

Appearance wise, I’m 163 cm, and Asian so I have medium standard straight dark hair and I’m slim.

---------

Hey! Thank you for your request! Sorry for the wait!

It was pretty hard to decide who would be the best partner for you. I thought about Beelzebub or Leviathan. Because Levi is into animes, mangas and Asian culture, but Beel loves food and his siblings especially Belphie. Hope you like my decision, because I decided to choose Beelzebub!

Here is why:

I think it’s ideal for Beel to have a quite clumsy girl with him. I can imagine when you, for example, fall down on the stairs and he catch you! He would protect and take care of you. He would be right there for you when you can’t reach something! 

He may look serious and mean, but actually he isn’t!

When you watch a sad movie or when someone judges you, he would try his best to make you feel happy again. Make you some food or maybe cuddle with you! 

You mentioned that you are an open book which would make Beel understand you even more. Being transparent is very important if you want a healthy relationship!

He is very close to his brothers. He would do anything for them. His best friend is Belphegor, and I think it’s good because your best friend is your sibling too. Imagine all of you hanging out like a super big family!! I think Beel can get along with pretty much anyone. 

Beel is very positive and rewarding so it would be ideal for you as there would be a balance. 

Both of you loves to eat, it would be a great date to go eat something, or make food together. I’m sure he will share his food with you! (Especially if you share your food with him too) Trust me he knows the best places to get food from! Also when you travel, he is going to encourage you to try food you maybe wouldn’t otherwise!

He would think your “what the heck” habit is cute though. Imagine him smiling so cutely to hmself every time you say it! If you two hang out a lot he might start saying it a lot too!

Beel would love to hear your voice so talk to him about everything! You can trust him! He is not too talkative himself, so your tendencies to rant gives a good balance!

Moreover he would support you in everything! He is one of the most supporting brothers!

Also don’t worry. He has 6 siblings, it’s much worse than 4, he knows what you mean when you say you are tired!

Beelzebub would join you to watch differents shows  or animes, but make sure there’s food!

I’m sure you would enjoy the time that you spend together! He can be very adorable and careful. Maybe he would invite you to the gym or hiking (or maybe to do judo), but reward you with a kiss for example.

He would make your day better for example with a romantic dinner or to just go out and watch the sunset with a picnic even if it’s the day you don’t like, so he tries to get your mind off it. 

Leviathan would join you if you want to play games or listen to kpop. Of course while this make sure you give food to Beel to make him less jealous. But he is not the most jealous type, so really there’s not much to worry about. 

Furthermore, if you don’t want to wake up early, he would stay in bed with you and cuddle. But sometimes Belphegor would be a better partner for this and he would treat you as his sister.

He would hold your hand until he falls asleep. Think about that!

Chemistry and Math is definitely not Beel’s favourite ones as well. You better get help from Lucifer or Satan! But Beel won’t judge you based on your grades!

He would laugh at your jokes, and try to make you laugh too!

He wouldn’t judge you and say mean things to you because he would really value you and you would mean the world for him beside food.

He needs emotional support though.(SPOILER depending on where you are in the story) Sometimes he blame himself for some mistakes. Thats why it’s nice that you are emotionally mature, he definitely needs someone he can rely on emotionally as well. 

Also he will make sure that you don’t think about what others think of you! He loves you the way you are! 

He is the youngest, so you can be childish together!

He is pretty flexible and confident, so no turn-offs so far!

He is the tallest one so I think you would look super cute next to him (he is like 205 cm lmao)

I think he is really patient and actually encouraging so hanging out with him will definitely boost your confidence!

I think in canon he never really had any relationship before either, so it would be amazing to learn about relationships together! 

I think theres no thing like “thats not how it is in real life”, you just have to keep looking. Fortunately Beel has similar values as you, as he can be shy and that makes opening up to someone hard - meaning the friendship can last some time before you establish a relationship. A healthy relationship is based on being best friends with your partner, so I think you are on the same page. 

Maybe sometimes you and Belphie would team up to prank him, what do you think?

He definitely adores that you care for yourself and that you are stylish! Asmo probably knows more about these than Beel, but thanks to Asmo’s influence Beel will suprise you with how much cosmetics he can name!

So in conclusion he is a very supportive boyfriend, and you are also supporting him through the journey of healing from the past. A very cute relationship and you two can do anything together. He can get you do some sports and you can get him to watch some shows on rainy days. However food is something you both enjoy a lot, so restaurant or cooking dates are common! Even if you travel. Knowing that you can trust the other no matter what will boost the confidence of the both of you! He can be less talkative but that’s fine because you can talk! He is also rather optimistic, so there is a balance in that as well. Sometimes he might get jealous of Levi or Belphie if you hang out with them too much, but thats just something to have a conversation about. He is cool and rather chill, definitely gets along well with your family too, which is very important because both of you are family-oriented! 

[luxlightly]

It’s Soup! -- Symbruary Day 8 “Food” Fill

Just in case anyone thought I was capable of making anything normal. Here is likely the only prompt fill I will be doing for @symbruary​. Written in about 2 hours (would have been shorter but my dog kept screaming at me to take him on a walk) with little to no proof reading so forgive any mistakes, especially since I nearly never work in first person and have never written in present tense. 

Requires a basic understanding of the plot of Venom: The Hunger to properly understand.

---

I am hungry.

Not the kind of hungry where it hurts your stomach; the kind of hungry that hurts all over. The kind of hungry that looking at food makes you feel sick. That eating doesn’t help. That makes all food look and taste foul. Because it’s a specific hunger. A craving for something.

Yes, that’s it. A craving. One I can feel in my bones, my teeth.

Our teeth.

But for something I can’t define. I can’t find. I’ll have to keep looking.

I am angry.

But that’s nothing new. Every day I feel like I’m angrier, but everyday it feels more justified, so I don’t mind. Every day I see more filth, more corruption, more sin. Everyday it seems like there’s fewer innocents to protect. Like there’s less and less untouched by the grime and putrescence of this city, this whole society.

What is the world coming to? It disgusts me.

Everything disgusts me now. Food, people,places. The popcorn I’d purchased with something approaching optimism is already all but discarded. Like trying to force mud and gravel down my throat. Repulsive. Like everything else. Everything sets a bad taste in my mouth, like sewage.

Well, except for one thing, of course.

The Other winds itself through my fingers, forming a hand to interlace with mine.

My Other.

It’s the only thing that soothes the anger, the shaking, buzzing, craving, wanting, needing. It’s a cool balm. When I feel its presence in my mind, winding its way through the twists and turns of my body, making its serpentine journey through the labyrinth of my form, for a moment I can feel at peace. We can feel at peace.  

There is a movie playing, here in the dark theater. Noise and light that my brain finds too hard to bother parsing. I didn’t come here to watch it, anyway. What story could any human mind fabricate that could match the magnificence of the creature that weaves its way through my cells?

None. Of course not. But the theater is blessedly dark and any within would not be looking at us. So we are afforded this small luxury of clasped hands.

In these brief moments such as this, when our minds touch and my heart swells with adoration for my beloved being from beyond the stars, it feels for a moment like there is more to existence than the wretchedness the world seems so filled with. That there is something else to be felt but disdain, disgust.

Then the shouting begins.

“Aw, they shoulda got Stallone!”

Teenagers.

I always had a soft spot for kids, but nowadays it seems there’s little to be soft for. Even children are tainted by corruption and filth. There’s no respect, no courtesy. These punks are nearly too far gone, already adults, raised in putrid bile and fit to do no more than regurgitate it.

But maybe not too old and far gone, yet, to be taught a decent lesson.

–

I am hungry.

I am angry.

Strung up from the ceiling, upside-down, the little cretin’s whines and whimpers are giving us a headache.

“Punks like you make me mad,” I hiss, wrapped up in my Other, in my true form, our true form.

Being together, as Venom, feels right. It always does. Like taking off an uncomfortable costume and letting the world see you as you are. Like finally fitting right in your own skin. But the buzzing and churning in my mind only seems to get worse together.

The only thing that feels right, but also wrong. Helping and hurting. Bane and balm.

Our headache is getting worse.

“Mad enough to bite your heads off!” I threaten.

It’s an old bit, but it’s our standard. Something about a brain-eating alien always seemed fitting. It’s the kind of thing people expect from us. The kind of monster they want us to be.

“CrrrrUNCH! ” For a moment I can almost picture it. I can almost feel that satisfying crunch of bone between my fangs, cracking and crumbling the the shell of an egg, revealing the precious contents within.

“Slurp down your brains like big fistfuls of Jello…”

I can picture that, too. Soft, slippery texture, zapping with the last sparks of life. Tingling against our tongue like a popping candy. Sliding down our throat like a rich pudding. Being so hungry for so long, it almost seems…kind of nice.

I stretch my jaws around his head, just to spook him, of course. His increased whimpering tells me it’s working. My tongue curls around his chin, as if I’m really tasting, preparing.

“Yeaaaahhhh…” I breathe, more reverent than threatening,now. More focused on the image in my mind, on solidifying it, indulging it that fantasy, than really teaching these kids a lesson. And why not? Not like they’d learn anyway.  I can feel my Other almost basking in the imagined scenario as well. “Barely touched that crummy popcorn, I could really sink my teeth into–”

I stop, abruptly.

I realize my teeth are almost itching with the desire to truly sink into the punk’s flesh. My jaw tightened and primed to bite down with a crushing force. My tongue is drawing in and savoring the taste of fear, of adrenaline, in the teenager’s sweat.

I could really…

I pull back quickly, returning our jaws to a more normal size and shape. The kid was spooked enough. No need to keep the bit going.

“Uh. Nah,” I say, suddenly at a loss for a witty parting line.

We release the kids and depart quickly. Suddenly, and unplaceably, the situation feels wrong, almost dangerous. Not that we’re fleeing from it. Not that anything would have happened.

I just get a little carried away sometimes.

It’s the job stress.

—

I am hungry.

I am angry.

More angry than hungry now, I feel. Like the hunger has settled into my bones, like it’s a part of me. A dull ache for something I can’t place. We’re out looking for it now. Searching, stalking. Scenting the air, sifting through sensations, discarding everything that’s not right but nothing is right.

No one understands it. No one understands us. No one ever has and yet strangers think that they have the right to presume what we need. The interaction with the man at the kiosk is still boiling in my blood.

How can he, someone who could not possibly know us, could not possibly understand us, think he can claim to know what’s good for our health? What we should eat? What we should do? We don’t need his advice! Nor his pity.

I feel suddenly scrutinized. Like every face on the street is watching us, judging us, trying to find the filth and disease in us, too. Trying to see how their poison has sunk into us, too.

I’m looking for something now. I feel something like a panic, a desperation. There has to be something that’s right. There must be something that tastes right, feels right. I’m looking for it, now. I feel like I’m wandering a maze. A mouse trying to follow the scent of cheese through walls that are shifting around it. Searching endlessly for a prize that always eludes it.

I need to blow off some steam.

—

I have to hand it to this biker scum.

He packs a punch. More than I’d expected looking at him, anyway.  

He’s also brutal. Slamming his fists and feet against my skull, my ribs, my spine. He keeps screaming about killing me for trashing his bike and I’m fairly certain that if I were a ‘factory original’ human, he’d be well on his way to succeeding. Even with my Other reinforcing them, I think I can feel my bones cracking.

The pain is grounding, though. It feels sharp and real when everything else has been cloudy, drowned out by the frantic buzzing of my body and mind. The rush of adrenaline feels good and I find I need more of it.

As I’m thrown through a window, I can already feel my Other cording itself through my bones, sealing any crack, repairing any fracture. It seeps up through my skin and releases its cloth disguise to wrap around and through me. Our fangs push up through our gums and back into their rightful place. Our jaw stretches and lengthens to accommodate and I find myself wishing I could feel the strain of it more acutely.

I let our long tongue roll out of our mouth and splash into a mug of beer on the table closest to the window through which we were so recently defenestrated. I do so enjoy a dramatic entrance. Or, reenterence, as the case may be. The taste,however, is even more abhorrent than everything else I’d been fruitlessly trying to consume lately. Pure poison.

I retch, pulling our tongue back and away from the putrid substance.

“You call this beer?” I snarl. “Tastes more like runny buffalo spit. Not that scum like you deserve any better.”

Our form feels strange somehow. Fitting to the state of our mind more closely than to the curvature of my body. Bigger, but less defined. More animalistic. More tendrils than we’re used to, as well. Somehow it feels like it matches the disjointed and detached state of my thoughts. Poetic.

I hear the bikers say something about superheroes, causal slurs and offensive epithets peppered in as is the wont of such ruffians. But we don’t feel like a hero tonight. This doesn’t feel like defending the innocent. I wonder if there’s even any left out there to defend? We don’t even feel like a judge, doling out retribution to the guilty. We’re out picking fights. Finding people who ‘deserve it’, whatever ‘it’ may be. Less like a punisher, more like a predator.

With teeth to match.

We’re slashing through biker creeps like we were made for it. Because we were made for it. But I barely hear it. Barely notice my own comebacks. I’m spouting the truth, the truth about their bile and filth, and the energy behind it feels good, feels like something , but it’s hollow. It’s not enough. I can’t find it in me to care. I’m angry that I don’t care.

I’m angry.

And I’m hungry.

God help me, I’m so hungry.

‘Frankie’,as it seems the leader of this loathsome bunch is named, takes another swipe at me with a knife. As if it could do anything. Ranting about cutting me open, as if he isn’t hopelessly, pitifully outmatched.

I swat him away like the disgusting insect he is.

“Oh, bite me.”

I’m not sure if I mean to kill him, but the loud ‘crack’ of his head against the brick pillar suggests that such a feat has no doubt been accomplished.

Suddenly I have no space in my mind for considering it. No space for thought about the other bikers starting to peel themselves off the floor.

A scent wafts into our nose, permeates into our flesh, into the scent detecting cells that litter the Other’s body, when we wish them to.

And suddenly, we desperately wish them to.

I sniff again, then once more, as the Other floods our form with more and more structures dedicated to scent, lining our skin with them so that the intoxicating aroma caresses us like a warm breeze.

What is that?

“Something…smells… GOOD,” I murmur, like a man possessed.

I feel like a man possessed. Possessed by that smell, the need for more of it, the need to discern its source. Our mouth is watering (more so than normal, anyway) and suddenly the hollow ache of craving turns sharp and demanding in our gut. I feel myself willing more teeth into our mouth and I feel my Other enthusiastically fulfilling that wish.

My Other is practically writhing on my skin. Our form feels like it’s shivering down to the core.

What is it? What is it?

I stalk to the pillar, stained with thick, red liquid, and breathe in that scent as deep as my lungs will allow.

“Warm ’n mushy…” I find myself repeating the words from earlier. When I had so desperately been trying to define what our body was screaming for. To put words to its silent but insistent demands. “ Wet…and…tingly…”

I lean down right above the cracked and bloodied cranium of the late Frankie, sniffing again and confirming beyond a doubt the source of the mouthwatering scent. And confirming beyond a doubt that it’s what we’ve been craving. What we need. What we want.

“Mmmmmmmm…” the moan from our lips is nearly sinful. It’s so close. What we’ve needed so painfully. What we’ve been aching for.

I feel feverish and desperate. The Other is writhing around and inside me. Our combined want and need feels like it will shake our body apart.

The Other provides me a lie before I even realize I have been begging it for one. Something innocuous. Something, anything appropriate. Excusable. It pushes me forward, encouraging. It feels as frenzied as I do.

“It’s… soup!” I exclaim.

And with that it’s justified. It’s acceptable. It’s accepted.

It’s inevitable.

We open our jaws wide, tongue lolling out.

“Yeahhhhhhh…” we breathe.

Our jaws snap down, crunching through the skull soup. The moment it hits our tongue is like salvation. After months of wanting, craving, aching, the thing we’ve so desperately needed is here, dancing on our taste buds, sliding down our throat. Like water in a desert, like life returning to our body.

How could we stop?

Our teeth gnash and tear, dragging more and more of the precious substance into our mouth. It’s so much and yet not enough. How can it be both? How can it be everything and yet nearly nothing?

We can’t understand it. Can’t understand anything. Can feel nothing, think of nothing, but the need for more. More. Like a thousand pounds would not be enough.

Faintly, as if beyond the veil of a dream, we can hear it, a cry of pure horror and disgust.

“I don’t believe it!” a voice cries. “He’s eatin’ Frankie’s brains!”

The statement drags me out of my frenzied state as if dragging me out of thick molasses.

“…what?” I mumble, still feeling only half lucid.

No…no we never….we would never. It wasn’t…it was only…

I look down at my hands, stained with blood and chunks of grey matter.

“No…” I breathe, then scream. "NO!"

It couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t us. Wasn’t Venom!

Suddenly Venom becomes a divided entity, split jaggedly between the horror and disgust at the viscera coating our claws and the frantic desire to lick each one clean of it. The revulsion at what we’ve done and the desperation to continue.

I stumble backwards.

“Threatened plenty of times – never meant to – just to scare ‘em…a joke !” I stammer.

When had it stopped being an empty threat? When had it stopped being a bit? A Joke?

Dear God, had it ever really been?

My stomach churns. Suddenly I feel panicked. Exposed like a rat in a trap, overcome with the need to escape.

“Something’s wrong with – Oh God have to– Get away!”

I flee as fast as our legs will carry me, away from the cooling, clotting remains of what is decidedly not soup.

And the worst thing.

The worst thing.

Is that I’m still hungry . ---

Also crossposted to ao3 : [Here]

[thenixart]

Chapter 3: The Raid

Her Jara Hamee is smart and handsome and strong and good and handy. He was probably the best storyteller she’d ever heard. Ket Halpak loved him very much. And really there very were few of their people on this world who would probably make a better leader, regardless of his tendency to be too cautious.

But she was a much better fighter. A better sneaker as well. And that was why she was in charge of the raid.

She’d spent weeks scouting out yeerk bases. Half from memory and half from guessing based on what the two of them knew the yeerks needed. Some matching patterns that the adults discussed back when they young enough to cling to their mother’s backs.

Figuring out the best paths through these miniature forests was the fun part. As she flew she learned more about the thick Earth air and which branches could hold their weight. And which could hold thrice that which was a bit more important. How many times the alien trees could take hits at different angles before they broke or fell? She learned this. And hiding places were found. She left words on the important trees in Galard and numbers. Clawed phrases of hope for treefolk being ridden by yeerks into the bark. Deep in Mother Sky there was another tribe of free people who’d been sending messages out into the deep in the language singing trees. It took Jara many long days to work some borrowed radios to be able to listen in.

They borrowed many human things and stole some others. There were plenty of ground houses in less than a day’s travel and plenty of humans camping in the woods at any given time. Only things they’d seen used by the humans and yeerks in humans at the pools and in the ships. Metal tools, some electronics, survival gear, and a few weapons. Most valuable were things like sticky tape and sheep wool and dry straw. It was warm now, but this was an alien world who knew what the seasons were like.

The night of the raid was dark. If not for the notes etched into the path the two of them would be hopelessly lost. No moon and no electric lights. They flew as swiftly as birds, touching down only long enough to read the shapes of words with the scales. At the first spotted light they paused and nestled into the foliage, their spotted skins would hide them well. With a thwick of her tail against bark Jara took to the north.

And then Ket waited.

Soon enough the lights of yeerk nursery went out and like lightning she crossed the last band of trees. Talons on the ground she landed at the entrance of a Taxxon tunnel and slipped into it, blades folded close. Ket did not like crawling but it was useful and she thanked the people of the low tribes for teaching it. The one taxxon she encountered was not at the moment ridden by a yeerk as far as she could smell, and it was young enough that she could disarm it with a single hand.

“Little one,” She said in Tax, “Fight this day and die. Call warning and many die, maybe even you. Is understanding?”

The taxxon’s claws scrambled nervously and it deflated a bit. She released its face.

“Apologies! Apologies!” It said shrinking back. “This one grovels! This one submits!”

“Good.” She huffed. “Stay out of way.”

Ket hesitated at the exit just listening. There was a ruckus, all folks moving to where Jara was causing trouble on the other side of the compound. When she no one else near she bolted out the tunnel for the nearest door. The walls of the hall were close enough that she could scuffle up above the heads of any passing below without sinking her claws into the walls and making more noise. Then she followed her ears to find her target.

The yeerk standing guard was easy to defeat. She grabbed its human head with one of her feet and yanked it up faster than it could react. Then she snatched away its dracon beam and punched it in the chest hard enough for it to lose consciousness. With some careful maneuvering, she took a roll of sticky tape from one headblades and secured it to the wall. Then she dropped to the floor and with a good solid kick, she busted down the door.

If she and Jara had not escaped they would have been sent to this place. The nursery was for breeding more hosts for yeerks. When yeerks mate they fuse and die as they spawn grubs like glima fish. So most yeerks are not interested in forcing their hosts to mate. In fact, Ket often tormented her yeerk with memories of her matings with Jara.

It disgusted the yeerk greatly.

And also yeerks were not good at being dulas nor did they enjoy the downsides of pregnancy; the aches, the pains, the movement deep inside and the cravings. So the yeerks claimed that letting the hork-bajir have a taste of freedom was a good incentive for making of more hosts. To her knowledge, they were trying something similar for taxxons because importing ones from Hiveholm was costing them. But the yeerks could not meet the taxxon needs for baby making just like they could not figure out how to fix their hunger.

The room was the bare minimum. Bland and brutal metal. Several vertical climbing spaces and nooks like those of trees for climbing and balance all over. Some bare platforms for sleeping. Enough space to move and stay active to keep the baby healthy and give birth. It was currently occupied by a handful of females, a pretty male, and across the room may be a good solid leap away was a human body and another female guarding the other door. She tensed ready to spring as the yeerk-in-human reached for its weapon when the other female slammed her tail into it. Then the male threw a bucket at the yeerk’s stolen head as it tried to get back up and knocked it out.

“Visser 3 says Ket Halpak dead.” The guard female said in folk speak. Ket recognized the voice as Grath Sha. A nearly grown child who was one of the ‘voluntaries’, hosts that made deals with yeerks to avoid the cages. Grath who’d come from the free space tribe by way of the nahara who were allies of the yeerks. The nahara fang she wore around her neck glinted in the light of the yeerk’s flashlight and confirmed this.

Ket Halpak shrugged her blades. “Visser 3 should dig deeper graves.”

The grown females descended from the fake trees and watched tensely. Their blades quivering in agitation. Grath Sha was a very good fighter, she learned from the nahara and the nahara have clashed with the dust demons and won dodging deadly lightning-quick tail strikes. But Ket Halpak had more experience and the others would fight on her side if it came to it for their freedom. Grath Sha flattened her blades and bowed.

“Then we be ghosts soon too.”

They left the same way Ket had come in. Her people were quick learners. As they exited the tunnel the young taxxon followed them out. It was hesitant and still groveling so they did not attack it. No one much wanted to be killing children if it could be helped.

“May this one go with too?” It whispered. “This one is useful to the hive if wanted.”

They all looked to Ket for her decision. Well Deep, she and Jara came to free people. Taxxons are different people but they are people. They don’t suffer the same as her people but they suffer.

In Tax she said, “Little one will not bite or betray. No returning to yeerk hive.”

“This one flees a rotten hive that has bitten its own and refuses reason,” The taxxon swore. “To sanctuary does this one’s life and teeth belong.”

“Very well. We open hive to you.”

Grath Sha volunteered to carry the taxxon. They knew each other, not friends but friendly.

Ket led the way and the pretty male made the tail of the line. It was slow going, most of the group were not used to the pace and needed to stop frequently to catch their breath. Twice they had to hide from loud ships with searching lights. Eventually, their path lined up with her Jara Hamee. He’d been spotted and chased but he beat his chasers. And using sticky tape tied one, a big male hork-bajir, up and carried him away with him.

Everyone was brought to one of the minor valleys that Jara and Ket discovered together. In it trees packed tightly together and the walls were steeper but it was good enough for hiding. Later when everyone could be trusted and Ket became very fat with child they would all move to the morphers’ valley where it was safer.

Till then they came to know each other. The pretty male was Kit Naab who knew medicine. Then there was Tak Ran, who’s husband and sister were killed by the morphers and who’s grudge did not lessen after meeting them. Loro Lok who was Kit Naab’s wife and was friendly and made good candies from honey and worms that Ket craved as she got heavier. Sil Renya who thought that Ket’s Jara was nicer looking than Kit and asked to borrow him because she still wanted a child. And Mern Tron who was good at being sneaky and who figured out that they could use eggs to improve the poor bark of Earth trees. The taxxon’s call-name was Sssirin and Sssirin liked to dig and could help build with all of his many claws. Three days after the rescue they learned that the big male Jara caught was named Aad Wanlo and he was a good fighter and thinker.

And all of them became tribe.

[nodesiretogrowup]

ok, time for a semi-thought out review-spoilers below

I knew that the captain badge thingy Lunaris gave Penny (I shall use this nickname because her name is too damn long) was some type of control device. That scene reminded me too much of Mark giving Gizmoduck that Waddle badge for it to just be a coincidence.

I am LIVING for Lunaris’ dramatic, theatrical voice! He is 100% THAT BITCH

HERE’S HOW PHOOEY DUCK CAN STILL WIN

You know you’re in for a good time when Dewey and Webby team up. I guess old men in Disney shows CAN’T have models in bottles. 

The different family members that Scrooge has pictures of all over are super sweet. No matter what he claims, Scrooge is a family man. 

It’s super cute that Huey was sending postcards. He’s a good boi.

I wonder if Donald’s head is that hard or if the cell walls are really soft.

I bet those visors on the helmets that go over the Moonlander’s eyes are some kind of mind-control devices

I think Lunaris WANTED Donald and Penny to find his secret war room. He sensed her hesitation. Plus if Donald was SO IMPORTANT TO him, Lunaris probably would have taken Donald to the mines personally.

You like Della don’t you, Penny? *smug Spongebob face*

Dewey is 110% THAT BITCH. He and Drake need to hangout sometime.

“We’re both the bad cop.” Webby, sweetie...

Dew-tective. Dewey is pun-sexual

Donald/Cheesy Postcards is otp. But who is he sending those cheesy postcards to? Or does he just collect them?

 The lighting in the noir scene was AMAZING.

Oh Webby, you were so close

“He’s your uncle too.” “WHAT CASE?!” I love my red son.

Poor Donald. It’s not his fault he’s so squishy. We can’t all be Darkwing Duck tough.

Gibbous is lucky to have Zenith. I want more of the two of them. They are adorable

“Almost pleasurable to hit” ...no comment. Also Donald makes the same sound as Spongebob when he’s hit. Therefor Donald must be part sponge and that is how he can take so much damage.

“Inflicting pain is fun!”-Frank’s motto

“This is your moment, Gibbous.”

THAT WINK! MY LITTLE BI HEART COULDN’T HANDLE IT!

Penny’s directions are HORRIBLE. I hope she never has to lead anyone else anywhere.

Their plan was SUCH a kid logic plan. I LOVE IT.

The mailwoman is GORGEOUS AND I LOVE HER.

“Bill, bill, bill. Man, being an adult is not fun.” I feel personally attacked

I think Mr. Jones could have worded his letter better. Also, I keep getting bills from my therapist even though I already paid them so that hit close to home as well.

Donald is too thicc for the vent system.

This scene has THE BEST DONLAD FACES EVER!

The moon scorpion is ADORABLE and I LOVE IT. I bet that little guy is gonna give Donald his superpowers. It followed Donald and helped him out when he was (sometimes literally) in a tight spot.

 I WANT TO CUDDLE WITH DONALD!

“Oooo, seedy.” Webby, hon, we need to talk. Dewey in the background freaking out over the roach was great.

Dewey, darling, you do not have spy skills. We still love you anyway.

Webby is 200% THAT BITCH. I feel like the fake backstory was probably a reference to something but I’m not sure what. The locket thing made me think of Anne. Webby is COMMITTED to her backstories.

DO NOT TOUCH! (DEWEY!!) What has Dewey done with that uniform to warrant such a warning?

Dewey, there is a time and place for your own theme song. This was neither.

Webby, please never change.

Donald’s file is as dummy thicc as he is. I hate myself.

I DEMAND A PLUSH OF DT17 DONALD. NOW.

Donald has entered DAD MODE (™)

I wish Donald would gently rock me to sleep. And tuck me in. And give me a kiss on the cheek.

“Aw, phooey”-because you can’t say “Fuck me” on the Disney Channel

MOONY TO THE RESCUE (I’ve named them and I am TOTALLY ATTACHED/EMOTIONALLY BONDED WITH THEM). 

DAT ASS

Would beds made of gold be comfortable?

DANCE, DONALD, DANCE

“Help me look for them. But DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING.” Penny, you need to work on your leadership skills.

I wish we could get a closer look at Lunaris’ “Most Dangerous” list. The man is thorough. Organization goals. 

I didn’t see Beakley, Webby, or Launchpad on there. Darkwing isn’t on there either, but he’s brand new so that one makes sense.

It made me very happy to see Lunaris continue to get beat up. Not as tough as you act, ya bastard. And he’s a dumbass for not using the dummy first, then testing on one of the moon mites, and ENDING with himself. Do you even science, bro?

The pic of Donald with the eggs warmed my heart. :’)

It’s adorable that Dewey thinks that he’s a detective/spy and that he could get the jump on anyone, much less Webby.

LET THE POOR DUCK HAVE A BREAK! HASN’T HE SUFFERED ENOUGH?!

HOW DARE THAT BASTARD HURT MY MOON WIFE!

“Great victory comes with great sacrifice.” I do NOT like the sound of that.

DONALD IS A DETERMINED MOTHER FUCKER.

I really feel like Donald is the best fighter in the show. Even when he’s in pretty bad shape, Donald can take a punch without getting KO’d. He’s good at evading hits. Jim and Drake may be able to take more damage, but Donald can avoid getting hurt in the first place. Well, at least in a fight.

Lunaris is what Magica and Glomgold think they are. He’s cold, calculating, and organized. He can get inside someone’s head to find out how they work. He knows a person’s emotional weakness and will dig into it. I think Donald might end up throwing off his game because Donald reacts much differently to emotional stress than most. Others breakdown and are at their most vulnerable. But Donald channels the emotions into energy and is arguably at his most powerful.

I think Webby may have a problem remembering what is real and what she made up.

Dewey might have the same problem.

Scrooge, you need to accept the you are old. OLD AS BALLS.

The #1 therapist mug is great. I also like that they once again took a character from the comics and gave them an upgrade. Though Mr. Jones seems like he should be in anger management as well.

If we needed anymore proof that Donald is a FUCKING FORCE OF NATURE, Mr. Jones’ office gives us a pretty good idea of what Donald is capable of. Little guy can pack a punch.

That speech, man. That PERFECTLY explains who Donald is and why he does what he does. I cried when Mr. Jones was explain how much Donald loves his family overlayed with Donald himself backing up those words. POETIC CINEMA! T_T

Donald out-maneuvering Lunaris shows what Donald is best at-reading a situation and adjusting his tracticts/plan. He’s pretty good at thinking on his feet and unlike the majority of the other characters, Donald knows when he’s out-matched. That’s why he and Della were such a good team. Della was the brawn while Donald was the brains.

DONALD IS TOO STUBBORN TO DIE. And Moony is soooo in there with him.

“There goes the bravest man on two worlds.” Truer words have never been spoken. He might be the most stubborn as well. 

SCROOGE, YOU CALLOUS CORKSCREW DICK! YOU ARE PROBABLY THE CAUSE OF 90% OF THAT ANGER. YOU SHOULD PAY.

“Because he loves us.” I’M NOT CRYING, YOU’RE CRYING!

Y’all were SO CLOSE!

The look Scrooge gets when he’s listening to Donald’s message, he KNOWS something is up.

Donald is off to Canada (old SU meme is old.

Seriously though, Scrooge is kind of a prick in this episode. He brushes off a lot of stuff about Donald, like the therapy. I hope this is leading to something like Grunkle Stan and Dipper, that Scrooge is hard on Donald because he sees a lot of himself in his nephew. Both have anger issues and both have unique speech pattern. I’m sure Scrooge has dealt with people not being understand him due to his accent many times.

I like that they didn’t make a joke out of Donald receiving therapy. If this were an “adult” show, the show/characters would probably mock Donald for going. But here it’s presented as a good thing and that Donald is mature and a good person for reaching out for help. The fact that he did it to be a better parent...SO PURE AND WHOLESOME. DONALD IS BEST DAD!