#and I fucking love that despite being the 'life' one she's like. Got a character beyond flowers lol. Which of course she would

[imminent-danger-came]

"Who is this" you may ask.

The answer to that question is that this is @thethiefandtheairbender's (aka @raayllum) lovely oc Ally!

In honor of their new side blog @alvoskia—a blog for their super cool WIP fantasy story—I thought I'd post the thing I drew for it!

[the-faceless-bride]

More Ideas for KNY (demon slayer) different characters ♡ (SOME NSFW CONTENT FOR SANEMI AND MUZAN AND MENTIONS OF GORE IN SANEMI AND LIGHT NSFW IN GYOMEI)

<- Part 1

Imagine being dangerously in love.

Imagine being a demon, obsessed with the brash, and blood thirst Wind Hashira. the first time ever being in battle with him is what leads you down a path of want and lust for the cruel hashira.

Imagine going out of your way to always be where he is, always catching his attention and being attacked by him. He believes you're mocking him, following him just to show off that he hasn't been able to kill you. But that isn't true at all. When you fight, you never actively try and gut him, only blocking your neck and leaving the rest of your limbs exposed to be lashed in this masochism tango.

Imagine struggling to hide your enjoyment and ecstacy each time his sword ripped, teard, and scar your body. He had to have known how me made you feel. He must. The darkness of your cheeks must've been a giveaway. Right? His eyes bewitching you in how intense he glares into your soul. It sets a fire under your cold skin, a burning desire.

Imagine one time when you and Sanemi are fighting. Other slayers show up. But they don't instantly jump into the fight. 1. from looking at the fight, you hadn't landed a single strike and seemed to be a greater deal slower than the hashira, and 2. Tanjiro made an odd comment. "Huh, it's like she's avoiding striking him on purpose."

Imagine how Shinobu decided the fight was long enough and tried to sneak in and end the fight. Only for a switch to set off and catch her off guard and spin at the speed of light, leaving a large gash across her body from her left founder to her hip. And Sanemi instantly tried to help her. Only to be stopped by your own weapon pressed so close to his neck that even swallowing made his Adamsapple scrape against a sharp blade. "Don't you dare. Your attention is meant for me. Are you seriously letting her attempt to get between us work?" And that made Sanemi pause... "us? Wha-" -- "don't play dumb darling. We're soulmates, Sanemi~" you whisper to him. "What the fuck."

Imagine how now you make him feel so conflicted, how he hates you for what you are but loves you for how you make him feel... in his home in his spare time as the sun rises, his windows covered and locked tight as he has you on your knees, leaning forward and his chest pressed to your back. Your head locked between his bicep as his other hand held his sword under you. It nicks you each time he thrusts. If he pushed you forward anymore, his blade would surely cut your chest and stomach open. "I HATE YOU, YOU FILTHY DEMON. I DONT WANT YOU. CURSE YOU FOR DEMONIC TEMPTATION." You softy cry at the harsh words from your love, "I don't care if you don't want me... I'm yours right now..."

Sanemi Shinazugawa × Demon reader Trope: Yandere Lovesick/I hate you so much I love you.

Imagine being with Muzan his entire life... your family were servants to his family. And from a young age, you were assigned to be Muzans personal maid or companion as you were too young to really do any work than cleaning up his room. But since you can remember, you've always been with Muzan.

Imagine being the one he confides with most. His fears, his wishes, and despite his coldness. His shouldering eyes seemed to be less scorching when it came to you. His one and only friend. Even if you didn't have much of a choice in the companionship. It was you who sat in on his doctor's visits about his deteriorating health. When he got the news of how it would be a miracle for him to even make it to his mid 20s...

Imagine how one night after a particularly scary coughing fit, he simply places his head to your mid section as you blush his hair and pull it back into a braid. He softy thanks you as he tilts his head to look up at you, "Of course, I'm always happy to take care of you." But that isn't want he wants. He wanted to take care of you. Not you to him. And without thinking, he pulls you down to him.

Imagine His heat is pounding in his chest. You lay across him as his long and slim fingers tease you between your legs. You try and stay quiet, your face twisted with pleasure and guilt. You felt like you were taking advantage of the sick man who would never find love or feel the love of another in such a romantic and intimate way. You thought maybe that this was him just grasping for a moment where he didn't feel so useless being bedridden. But it was so much more. If this was the last thing he did, pleasing the only one who he cared for most. The one he wished he could've married... he would be happy to die. This surely isn't good for his heart, but he couldn't care less. You hovering yourself above him. As he tried weakly to pull you in to rest your whole weight. This was how he wanted to spend his last days, weeks, and months. However long he had left. He wanted it to be with you.

Imagine as days go by, and he feels more and more guilty. He starts to feel as though you let him do these things because you feel obligated as his personal maid to do so. Nights in the dark ask he fingers you, giving and receiving oral pleasure. But you still won't give him everything. You refuse to fully lay with him. Sometimes, he feels like it's because you don't really love him. Not like he does you. Or maybe you find him... pathetic... he can't actually make love to you. You'd be doing all the work. He doesn't want that, and it seems you don't either... eventually, his thoughts become too much, and he decides to let you go...

Imagine you were relieved of all your maid duties, not just to Muzan but to the family as a whole. You were heartbroken. And the heartbreak only worsened at the news of Muzan and his families and your families deaths. You'd cried more times than you'd ever had before in your life. And you were so very confused when you'd found a Man who looked exactly like Muzan sitting in your bed a few nights later. "Hello dear. I'm home." He invented to truly give you what you wanted, and he was eager to give it too you.

Muzan Kibutsuji × reader Trope: Unrequited/reunited love/soulmates

Imagine being Master Kagaya's faithful slayer, you'd always admired him. You and your Master had created a strong bond. Stronger than others. Moments like this reminded you that you were special. You sat on your knees as you just like you had the first time. Your head pressed to his chest and he dragged his fingers over your head.

Imagine trying not to tear up as you remember the first time you'd kneeled for him. You'd been reckless and impatient leading to a fellow slayer getting extremely hurt. You kneeled before him as you sat in the room alone waiting for him to speak. Doing your best to not make any noise as you silently cry. You'd failed him. Your beloved Master. But he didn't yell. He didn't make you feel like you were a problem. He merely hummed before knealing with you, one hand on atop your head and the other cupping your cheek feeling the wet stream of tears and wiped it away. "It's alright. You didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. I know you're a good girl." And your breath hitched. He noticed. And from then on he gave you positive affrimations which encouraged you to do better. For him.

Imagine how as you sat there listening to his words letting yourself flow away and melt into your master. He thought it was innocent. He was simply your master helping you, if it wasn't him maybe you'd find these soft words from Gyomei or maybe even Kyojuro... but he was wrong. So wrong. It was him. Only him. You'd put yourself on the line so much more than you should've. All to hear those soft praises. His wife must not like you... you do take up more and more of his time as days go on...

Imagine how he softly calls to you. Late that night, he'd heard your footsteps. He sat with you talking. About anything that day. Soft and short conversations. Quiet but not uncomfortable. "You're my favorite you know." He sighed, before he let out a small chuckle "don't tell the others." You know he was teasing. But your heart told you other wise.

Imagine being hurt. In battle you were hurt. But even in your pain you still made your way to your master... your beautiful Kagaya... the married man, the family man, that you had fallen in love with. "My dear, you still come and see me while you're in such pain?" He seemed shocked. But you aren't sure why, you'd walk on hot coles and crawled on your hands and belly to kneel for him. You'd do anything for your master. And you could only hope as his favorite... you wouldn't let him down. Finally you lifted your head from his chest, pulling his hands from your hands, leaving a kiss to his knuckles. One day. One day you'll have him.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki × Slayer reader Trope: unrequited love/lovesick/slow burn

Special Part two of Forbidden love with Gyomei × demon

Imagine how the rest of the slayers flock around Gyomei, asking him so many questions. And he couldn't even answer them all. Too consumed by his disbelief that the person he'd fallen in love with so deeply, had turned out to be a demon.

Imagine how he layed in bed lonely and... missing you. He began to long of your cold touch, your voice, your laugh that was so contagious to him. He missed you. He'd fallen for you. Demon or not. He laid in his bed trying and failing to get even a wink of sleep. But just as he had almost fallen asleep he was awoken by a sound. 'Tap tap' was the sound, 'tap tap' on his window. "Gyomei... my love..."

Imagine how he practically leaped from his bed. Demon or not you had carved yourself a spot in his heart. Slamming open the window and pulling you inside, his hands instantly feeling over your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Kissing the knuckles of your cold hands.

Imagine being the one that made Gyomei for a moment stay from his faiths. Gyomei devoted his life to his beliefs, that includes waiting. Waited all his life for the one. Saving himself and waiting. But you both were in a unique circumstances... so from that point on Gyomei promised himself to you. You would stay with him in his home and he would always come back to you. That night he would kiss you, love you, lay you under him while he whispered for you to be his.

[ennn]

Things I Liked About the Agatha All Along Finale - Initial Thoughts

Wooooo boy. Hey look I'm a bleeding heart shipper but I'm old and have been in enough fandoms. Let's process shall we?

Alice! Alice echo-ing what so many fans are saying about her lost potential. Rio actually being kind in reminding Alice her death did have purpose. "You're a protection witch, you protected someone."

The development of Billy's extremely complicated relationship with Agatha. Kid's not loyal to Agatha, he's understanding her, or starting to at least. He sees her being a relationship with Death and he's curious about the story there. He cares enough to connect the dots and see Agatha as a full person. And we see that developed as the finale goes.

"That's it? That's all the time that I get?" The show reminds us that death sometimes just happens – "Sometimes boys die" – I wonder if one of these writers is a Sandman fan because I immediately clocked a parallel to Death of the Endless taking a baby's life in her first comic appearance.

Death of the Endless is of course much kinder than Rio is with her (iconic) reply to that eternal question. "You lived what anyone gets... A lifetime."

That whole convo we got in the preview clip. And then them just sitting down and talking more? Albeit with layers of manipulation but y'know that's them.

Agatha telling Rio that she'll hand over Billy if Rio leaves her alone: essentially making Rio once again choose between her duty and her feelings towards Agatha. The deepest cut Agatha could make – which we see echoed with "If you do this I'll hate you forever." They know each other and the best ways to hurt each other.

I laughed waaaay too much at Agatha ragging on Jen's last vegetable name.

Jen's unbinding ritual was powerful and a fantastic moment for the character. She recognised and embraced her power. Agatha's mask slipping a little at the end as well. Amazing. Sasheer killed it.

The whole scene with Agatha working with Billy to bring Tommy back was beautiful and emotional and well put together and showed the side to Agatha that cements her as a great mentor (when she's not being the biggest murderous asshole).

Agatha using what she learnt from her Alice and Jen – and what Lilia told her – to hold her ground with Rio... okay it lasted like 10 seconds but it was a nice callback! Agatha's such a shameless survivor.

Incredible kissing. We knew Hahn and Plaza would deliver and they did. When it comes to kissing women, these two absolutely go for it.

Rio looking absolutely gutted with having to take Nicky away. Plaza really delivered with Rio's pain in these eps. Agatha calling her "my love", cursing and then begging.

Rio being soft about Nicky despite her job. Nicky willingly going with her with no fear, no hesitation – suggesting that they did bond somehow? Nicky knew she was a friendly face and trusted her. It was really a good death, all things considered. He wasn't sick, he wasn't in pain, he wasn't scared he simply fell asleep and just went.

Rio reminding Nicky to kiss his mom goodbye. She cares so much, as much as a personification of death can. It's funny how some people thought Rio was going to be this manipulative big bad but no, Agatha's the more toxic one in this relationship.

Okay like imagine Agatha finally dying and just straight up BOOKING it before Rio pops up. Rio hates ghosts. The number of times Agatha deliberately pissed her off this finale was amazing.

"I'm sure he'll forgive you for... whatever you did." Aw Billy is a good kid. Just like Nicky was. Agatha needs that reminder, that anchor to not be the Worst.

Chemistry aside, Agatha and Billy being mentor-pupil makes a ton of sense because these Maximoffs do the most fucked up shit (unintentionally) with their magic and Agatha's got the knowledge, charisma, cynicism, and the morals of a spinning compass to support him.

Alright when are they announcing the sequel / spin-off? I know there's a rumour of it happening. Rio's got 2 abominations and one endlessly aggravating ghost of an ex to deal with now.

[blackbyakko]

In Defense of Vanessa

All of the peeps hating on Vanessa and Wade ‘a relationship in Deadpool 3 need to expand their imaginations a bit lol.

Do you think Vanessa, the woman who fought so so hard to keep Wades spirits up when he got his cancer diagnosis, whose after fucking DYING in the second film told him that he had to continue on living and supported him to live a good life despite her not being in it, and upon seeing Wade after he ghosted her and then showed back up looking SOOOOO fugly (he’s adorably fugly) and her first reaction was to look lovingly into this man’s eyes and say “That is a face that I’d be happy to sit on”, would just simply LEAVE him? Just like that???

Y’all, I think we saw a different film lol.

Almost everyone in Wade’s life, has either belittled him, or have actively shown their distaste for him known at some point (Peter, Yukio, and Dopender my beloveds, we’re not talking about you). Vanessa from the get-go, matched Wade’s freak. When we saw Wade’s flashback of their break up, Vanessa never said that she wanted to break up with him. We heard HIM Say that if she wanted to leave him to get it over with already. One of Wades biggest character flaws throughout the film has been that he pushes people away through humor and through insults because he is terrified of being vulnerable with them. Vanessa is the only person throughout the films that, even when he’s hurt, he lets himself be vulnerable around her, even post break up. Vanessa didn’t want to leave him, she wanted him to be a better version of himself, because he was wallowing, and not allowing himself to look beyond his insecurities.

Sometimes, doing things for ourselves, for the sake of bettering ourselves is not enough motivation. Wade was not willing to pick himself up and try to live up to his potential until Vanessa encouraged him to. I don’t think she cared if he ever became an avenger or not, but what she cared about was that he had all this potential and no direction and she could see how it was eating him up inside. Why is everyone else in Wade’s life around allowed to rude to him and tell him straight up he’s being a fuckhead, but Vanessa telling him he needs to pick himself up when he takes a knee or asking him to let her walk with him, and when he refuses to do so, wnd gives him some distance when HE PUSHED HER AWAY, makes her the bad guy. You could tell it hurt her when he asked if she was seeing anyone. And that handhold? She absolutely took him back lol. And that’s good! Deadpool is not someone who would sacrifice a loved one to save the world, he would sacrifice the world to save a loved one. And Vanessa is the same, being ride or die from the beginning, and I will not hear her name besmirched.

Also are you really going to tell me that she saw fucking WOLVERINE and didn’t turn to her man and say, “We’re tag teaming him right?” Or that she saw a free child in X23 and didn’t turn to Wade and say “We wanted a kid, so we’re adopting her right?”

Use your imagination people lol. Vanessa would be the first person to drag Wolverine and X23 into their family. She gets a hot new husband and a kid, Wolverine gets a hot new wife and a husband, and X23 gets a new mom and two dads. Everyone wins!

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

Is somehow the hot twin between her and Taako

Lup Bluejeans (née... Taaco? Tacco? Taco? Tako? who tf knows this is why I'm going with her husband's last name. doylistly she gets her last name from her brother whose last name is given as "Taako again but spelled differently"): Hot, funny, smart and undead. Is there anything else you could want in a woman?? Well, in case there is: she's also canonically trans

LUP IS THE HOTTEST. VOTE LUP.

[lych33dragoncookie]

Continuing on from my last post;

Right, so about that certain someone. After we see Burning Spice FUCKING MURDER SOMEONE, we get on to their rematch. And-

... Hm. Not normal. You're enjoying this a bit too much

During the fight, we get to see something interesting; Spice's own followers ditching him and Nutmeg Tiger, despite orders to go after Smoked Cheese. Not out of some sudden rush of conscience, no; but the realization that, no matter how hard they try, how closely they follow him, how much they embody everything he stands for, in the end, following him can only result in their own destruction. That they're better off escaping than dying for the sake of someone who couldn't care less what their fate is.

On top of that, we get to see one of my favorite tropes! A protagonist refuting the ideals of a "hero", admitting that they fight for reasons that on the surface could be seen as selfish and short-sighted, but that are born from a massive amount of care and emotion, loyalty, and a desire to protect what matters to them, rather than stopping a great evil, sticking to a rigid moral compass, or any sort of other pretentious ideals.

And we get to see, visibly, undeniably, just how far she's willing to go to protect that which she cares for. We get to see her closer to death than absolutely anyone else we've ever seen before, with visible damage, about to crumble into pieces. And, despite that, despite her state, she never stops fighting. Not for a second. No matter how close she is to death's door.

Alongside this, Smoked Cheese, at the end of an exhausting fight, has some words about his queen.

At the end of it all, her love is what makes her powerful. It's what will lead her to greatness, no matter what. Her bountiful nature is the gift she has to give to those around her, and what keeps her going. It's not logical, it's not rational, something which drives Smoked Cheese off the fucking wall, but even he has to admit that it doesn't have to be. That it's what got here where she is in the first place.

You'd think that this would be setup for something that happens later on, specially with the line "Sycophants, charlatans... even willful traitors... All of them have a place among her treasures. She embraced them all... with open arms.", instead of just being there so that Smoked Cheese can tell Nutmeg Tiger that her ruler sucks complete ass and his' doesn't, but... Well, we'll get to that later.

Anyways, back to the freak.

Again with this? I don't say this in an exasperated tone, I just think there's something severely wrong with him. He's just trying to get her to go feral like him for fun. Weirdo. Also, as I mentioned before, holy hell this is the most visceral it's ever gotten. We've never seen any other character this physically damaged, so close to actually crumbling. This entire arc continues to be unexpectedly brutal in every way it possibly could be, and honestly for what it's going for, it just works.

Also, I'm stuffing the below line into my pocket for later. You'll see why.

After this, Golden Cheese refutes every bit of Burning Spice's own mentality in much the same way I did the last post, and it gets under his skin. Really, really badly. To the point where he basically just ends the fight outright, more or less. ... Until Golden Cheese gets her obligatory powerup. It's cool as hell, and it works with the very same base that I mentioned earlier, of her care & love for everything she holds dear and her strong undying urge to protect it all until her last breath, an urge to protect her treasures, everyone who's filled her life with joy up to this point, and it's all strong enough to draw forth her soul jam and awaken her true power and all that other power of friendship stuff. Not anything too mind-blowing considering we've seen it before with Dark Cacao, but it certainly hits a bit harder because Golden Cheese is just a deeply lovable character who does not hesitate to wear her heart on her sleeve, a really warm presence who you want to see succeed simply because of how much her love and desire to give to others shape her every action.

As is to be expected; there is no third act breakdown from Burning Spice here. In fact, he's having the time of his life!

... And then. He. Just.

Gets hit once. And it's over.

...

Y. You. You j. HUH? HUH???

HUH??????????

WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. THE FUCK. ARE. YOU. DOING. THAT'S THE ENDING? THAT'S FUCKING IT? HE JUST GETS HIT ONCE AFTER GOLDEN CHEESE TRANSFORMS, GETS BURIED UNDER SOME RUBBLE, AND THEN YOU NOT ONLY HAVE GOLDEN CHEESE OUTRIGHT SAY THAT HE PROBABLY LIVED THAT BUT ALSO TEASE HIM BEING ALIVE AT THE END???

THAT'S IT? THAT'S THE FUCKING ENDING? THAT'S THE ENDING YOU GIVE TO WHAT WOULD HAVE OTHERWISE BEEN ONE OF OUR BEST STORIES YET?!?!??

WHAT. THE. FUCK. ARE. YOU. DOING. ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME POP A BLOOD VESSEL

THIS SUCKS! THIS ACTUALLY FUCKING SUCKS! THIS IS NOTHING! THIS MEANS NOTHING! YEAH YEAH YEAH GOOD CONQUERED EVIL WHATEVER IT'S NOT ONLY A GENERIC VILLAIN DEFEAT BUT A COMPLETELY UNCEREMONIOUS ONE FOR A CHARACTER WHO IS RIDICULOUSLY WELL WRITTEN AND WHO DESERVED MORE THAN JUST GETTING ONE-SHOT AFTER A SERIES OF REALLY WELL PACED CUTSCENES.

IT WAS ALL. SO. FUCKING. GOOD. ALL THE WAY THROUGH TO THE PART WHERE HE'S LAUGHING MANIACALLY AT HIS INCOMING DEMISE. IT WAS ALL SO GOOD. WE WERE SO CLOSE. AND THEN WHAT DO YOU DO? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING DO? NOT ONLY IS HE JUST OUT LIKE THAT, WITH EVERYONE WELL AWARE HE'S NOT DEAD, YOU HAVE NUTMEG TIGER COME BACK TO HIM, MEANING NEITHER OF THEM HAVE PROGRESSED IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER, SMOKED CHEESE'S CONVERSATION WITH NUTMEG TIGER WAS ALMOST ENTIRELY POINTLESS, AND THIS WHOLE THING WAS RENDERED UTTERLY MEANINGLESS FUCKIGIIGNFRJGH GHRHRARAHGHRHGHEEJGHJSDG

Okay. Okay. Tantrum aside.

There are so many better ways of doing this. Like. So, so much better. Ways that not only hold more narrative weight, but don't set up a half-assed villain return later on that won't hit anywhere near as hard. Because, seriously, giving Spice another arc as a villain is a horrendous idea. Both from a gameplay and story perspective. The framing here was perfect, everything had gone off really well from start to finish all the way up until that last tiny bit of the story, and you're not going to get this sort of opportunity again. They fumbled. Really. Really hard.

For one...

Hey. Golden Cheese. Remember when you said this?

JUST TAKE HIS FUCKING SOUL JAM

ALL THE BEASTS CAN DO IT WITHOUT ANY EXPLANATION, WHY CAN'T SHE?? WHY ISN'T SHE, SOMEONE WHO IS FULLY OK WITH STEALING FROM SOMEONE SO LONG AS THEY DESERVE IT, SOMEONE WHO EARLIER SAID BURNING SPICE ISN'T DESERVING OF HIS POSITION AS A GOD, SOMEONE WHO WOULD BE MORE THAN WILLING TO THROW IT INTO HER TREASURE PILE, COMPLETELY UNABLE TO TAKE IT, EVEN AFTER BEATING HIM?!?!??!

It would genuinely be that! Fucking! Easy! And guess what? Guess fucking what? IT OPENS UP SO MANY WRITING OPPORTUNITIES! SO, SO MANY! Nutmeg Tiger no longer has a god to worship, the power that gave Spice a hold over his army is now gone, he has to live out as a commoner, not a god, because he never deserved to be a god, not in the slightest. Have GC say something like "you are not a god, you're an impulsive, reckless fool. you do not deserve the power of a god. you're a commoner. nothing less, nothing more." and then take away his soul jam and you're good!!

HELL, IT COULD SET UP A GOOD, BELIEVABLE REDEMPTION ARC, "Sycophants, charlatans... even willful traitors... All of them have a place among her treasures. She embraced them all... with open arms.", IT'S SO EASY, IT HAS ACTUAL SETUP, YOU COULD HAVE SPICE BE A COMMON MORTAL COOKIE THAT HAS TO FEND FOR HIMSELF, EVENTUALLY BEING FORCED INTO A POSITION WHERE HE HAS TO FIND A ROOF TO PUT OVER HIS HEAD IF HE WANTS TO SURVIVE, AND HAVING GOLDEN CHEESE BE THE FIRST PERSON TO OFFER THAT, WHETHER OR NOT SPICE IS WILLING TO IMMEDIATELY ACCEPT IT. YOU'D HAVE A PROPER THIRD ACT BREAKDOWN WHEN HIS SOUL JAM IS TAKEN AWAY WITH SPICE BEING ACTIVELY REFUSED A WARRIOR'S DEATH, BEING GIVEN AN ANTI-CLIMAX, NOT A GLORIOUS DEFEAT BUT A LOSS OF POWER AND A REFUSAL TO END THE FIGHT ON HIS TERMS, COMPLETELY REFUSING TO STOOP TO HIS LEVEL AND FORCING HIM OUT OF A POSITION OF POWER WHILE YOU'RE AT IT

ALL THIS. ALL THESE WRITING OPPORTUNITIES. AND MORE THAT THE COMMUNITY HAS LIKELY ALREADY COME UP WITH. WASTED. COMPLETELY. NOTHING. ALL FOR A QUICK, GENERIC, BLAND, FLACCID, DEVOID-OF-IMPACT VILLAIN DEFEAT.

Ooooohhh my god I am so worked up about this. We were this close. we were this fucking close to peak fiction. We could have had it all. But they fumbled right at the end.

I... I think I'm just going to completely ignore this ending's existence. If they do anything else with Spice from this point onwards? It doesn't exist to me. I'm not looking. Because whatever they do, it won't wash away the bitter taste of the complete fumble they just pulled. In my heart, he got his soul jam taken away, had to find a way to survive on his own, and ended up living in the Golden Cheese Kingdom (out of a lack of any other options and ideas of a potential soul jam recovery from the inside that would eventually be all forgotten about) where he was given a chance to return to normalcy and heal and be free of the burden of immortality.

I'm gonna go tear a hole in a wall with my bare teeth now. See you all.

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’, (part 2):

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

Part one here.

—> SMUT!!! and copious amounts of yearning and fluff, and like maybe some angst??? I wasn’t originally going to do a part 2 because it worked pretty well as a one shot, but I really liked their dynamic (and hyper fixated on it for HOURS), so here we are— it details the build up to their relationship, and then provides an epilogue to the end of part 1.

Warnings: sub spencer, corruption kink still present (but Spencer plays into it this time, what? who keeps writing that??? they need help???), greek mythology references and endless space facts (nerds), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader always (except she still for the life of her can’t be mean to Spencer, it’s those fucking brown eyes), begging, crying (pussy remains that good), praise kink, degrading names (slut, whore, because hello??? Spencer Reid breathes and he’s a slut to me), them being total losers for each other, they’re both still geniuses and they’re both still too domestic for my sanity, alcohol but no inebriated sex (a lot happens OKAY??), aftercare always!!

— brief brief mentions of rape in correlation to Greek Mythology (male Gods are disgusting)

w.c: 8k (im not mentally okay)

a/n: i wrote the smut and then had to take a cold shower (i cry for my digital footprint). i wanted to put this out on Spencer’s birthday, but I got distracted— i think he would be happy I dedicated all of my shots to him (and then had to explain that no he’s not actually a real person but rather a fictional character)

───────────────

Prequel, the build up, (pre ‘part I’):

Spencer is barely conscious, drifting in that half-way state, all tousled hair and messy clothes. He’s dishevelled, at best, cradling a coffee (too much sugar, limited caffeine). Early start, the sun has only begun to burn by the time he reaches his desk. Torture, it’s torture the way you linger, it makes his brain distort, fracture into a tangled mess of nothing. How is it scientifically possible that one’s presence alone can reduce his mind to static? He’s not sure whether he loves or hates the abrupt decline in his IQ.

7AM. There’s bags pooling beneath his eyes, crimson distressed shadows, insufficient sleep can hinder the brains ability to regulate emotion, attention. It’s fine. He’s fine.

To put it simply, you’re terrifying. A carefully crafted figment of intelligence. He wonders if you’ve ever pressed a knife to someone’s skin before, it’s more intimate than a bullet. Hands on. It’s not a morbid thought, he doesn’t consider himself that hedonistic. Jobs in the BAU are coveted, and yet, in despite of your age, you were offered to join. No strings attached, no extensive training— nearly a year of working alongside you has proven that you’re more qualified for this than anyone could’ve anticipated. Is it cruel to say you were made to analyse, to deceive and coerce the most callous minds?

It’s demeaning, sure. But there is nothing more to you than the job. You clock in, and your personality becomes bound, restrained, kept away from him.

He’s trying. They’re all trying; to accommodate you, to ease you into the team. Drinks after hours, even intoxicated, you’re meticulous at keeping yourself away from anything inherently personal.

But right now, you’re here, and you’re so pretty. “Early,” he groans, letting his face drop to the desk. He likes that you’re shifting closer to him, that out of everyone, the rare, celestial phenomenon, moments of vulnerability are reserved for him. They’re brief, and admittedly a little sharp around the edges, but Spencer is selfish in admitting that he wants them all to himself. To hoard them and gloat, because no one has ever chosen him first before.

And you, you justify this ‘friendship’ because you’re indisputably human, because you do need someone (even if you’re too proud to ever accept that), and of course it would be Spencer. You’re both too young to be here, skipping a multitude of stages in the rise to an FBI agent, trauma bonding over the weight of your scathed experiences. Plus, you share an element of difference; your brains are abnormal, wired in unique, distinctive ways in contrast to the average human. It makes sense. It’s logical.

“Too early.” you agree, shifting to lean against his desk. “Did you read that article I sent you? The one about astrophysics and how it can shape human experiences?���

“Of course I read it,” He looks up, bleary-eyed behind his glasses, half-lidded gaze flickering across you. Maybe there should be an element of competition to your dynamic; you’re both geniuses, working alongside each other in close close (oh— close) proximity, but there’s not. For all of your sharpness, you’ve never once seen him as anything but your equal.

He turns his head, hair falling, obstructing his sight, a mess of brown, tousled and out of place. His brain is already working overtime, absorbing every detail about your appearance: your heavy, maddening eyes, your shirt (wrinkled, untucked), your watch (gold), the pen stuck behind your ear. Analytical, analytical, analytical.

“Don’t ask me about it.” he continues, “I’m halfway through an essay on my thoughts about it, expect a message tonight.”

That’s a new progression. Whenever he can’t sleep, whenever his thoughts are fervid and incessant, his mind caught on obscure facts, he’ll text you. Let you wake to paragraphs upon paragraphs of information on miscellaneous subjects. He’s never really understood ‘texting etiquette’, abbreviations and short responses.

“Can’t wait.” you hum. Oh, and you mean it.

“Can’t wait? First time i’ve heard that one,” he laughs.

He glances down at your shoes— combat boots, of course. Practical, sturdy, thick leather worn down with use. He can’t look at your face right now, not when you’re soul-crushingly beautiful, and you’re taking an interest in his quirks. But, oh your face— using the golden ratio as a foundation, you’re… well, perfect. Sure, the dark shadows pooling beneath your eyes reduce points, but he likes them, it’s a subtle, yet impaling, reminder that you’re real, that despite everything, you’re undeniably human.

It’s a mess, he’s aware that it’s an unnecessarily disjointed mess; the universe decided to torture him (painfully so), by placing the personification of perfection in front of him. Reachable distance, and yet, you still feel light years away. So far, because god he loves you— he loves you in ways he can’t even speak about. But what is love, and how does he comprehend it when he’s never been in its orbit? Not until now.

“And yeah,” he continues, adjusting his glasses. “I’m drafting a response, of course I am. You think I’d not send you an in-depth message? That would be a disservice to your knowledge.”

────────────

Detroit, 8hr flight, mid-morning, coffee and case files, an endless haze of intentions, behavioural patterns regarding the most recent unsub. Spencer always chooses to sit beside you, it’s non-negotiable, assigned. He spends half of his time curled up in the corner, catching a few minimal hours of sleep, and the other half rambling. At this point, you know a lot about him. Months and months of knowledge, some he’s told you, some you’ve profiled: he always carries a satchel (dog-eared novels and notebooks consisting of half-finished thoughts), his favourite season is halloween (when he first came to your apartment and saw various autumnal decor, despite it being mid-July, he smiled so much you thought you were going to die), and he’s afraid of the dark. Trivial pieces of information. Unnecessary, and yet you still store them for safe keeping.

“So,” he mumbles after briefing, “It’s nearly Halloween…”

Those words. The simple declaration of a date that you were already aware of sentences your fate. Of course you’ve noticed the rest of the team deftly turning down his invites at any occasion possible, but to receive one? You’ve never been a people pleaser, in fact, if anything you’re the polar opposite. Blunt like a knife, intransigent, unwilling to spare feelings for the sake of etiquette.

But you do agree when he offers to make plans.

────────────

Pumpkin patches, seasonal harvest. The leaves beneath your heavy platforms are ochre. It’s late- afternoon when you get to the festival, even later when you manage to coerce Spencer into humouring one of the ghost-walks.

But, you got distracted, tangled up in some tangent about Roman philosophy, Plato’s symposium, different accounts of eros. Socrates and his belief in stoicism, unwavering to the pretence of beauty, turning down Alcibiades— the most desirable.

You can only laugh. You laugh, and no, you’ve never laughed like that before. It shuts down Spencer’s body, renders him incapable for a good few moments. And now, suddenly he’s gone dumb, because he wants to get lost every weekend, just to hear it over and over again until it’s firmly imprinted into his brain for good. You breathe, and he’s brain-dead.

“This isn’t funny—“ he tries.

“No you’re right. It’s not funny at all.” you lie. Straight. Through. Your. Teeth. All things considered, you’ve had fun today— which is admittedly a feat in itself.

“Don’t worry,” you continue, knocking your shoulder into his. “I’ll protect you.“

“You do that enough anyways,” he states; it’s true, you’re a little too assertive on the field, unwilling to let him stumble inadvertently into danger. Maybe it’s just because you’re now acquainted with the knowledge of his previous missteps. Or maybe it’s because you care — not in the way he cares about you, obviously. But he’s willing to take what he can get. Anything, as long as it from you.

Spencer hates the dark (it’s common knowledge, the absence of light is unsettling) and with his flashlight wavering, stuttering in and out of use, he’s forced to stray close to you, to share your working one. It feels like the start of some budgeted horror movie he’d possibly take you to see, speaking through the entirety, pointing out the obvious scientific flaws.

“Why do you have so many layers on?” He asks, watching your face. The flashlight in your hand illuminates the small clearing around them, casting your face in a starker light. Every contour, every blemish, every freckle is more pronounced in the cold.

“You look like a burrito,” he adds, unable to stop himself.

You scoff, “I run cold.”

Pine-oak and cold, the air is sharp, plainly glacial at this time of night. It’s an amusing way to spend halloween; even though you’re currently missing out on the tour you paid for. “And, I don’t look like a burrito, thank you. Very astute evaluation, Reid. Your words are clearly so intellectual.”

“Yes, well— I am a doctor, remember? Astute observation skills are a priority on the requirements list. And actually,—“ you huff out a breath, and his forthcoming tangent dissolves before it can escape his lips. Usually, you humour the onslaught, the mess of facts— but, considering they’re directly aimed at you tonight, it’s clear that circumstances are in fact different.

He tucks his hands into his pockets, knuckles blemished red from the cold, rose shadows that match the flush to his face. “I’m glad you said yes, to this. Most of the team,” he laughs awkwardly, “Well, they usually ignore my invites. So yeah, it’s nice not to be alone for halloween.“

He’s quick to move on, to shift shift the subject. “And— as for the,” he continues, glancing down at your attire. “The excessive layers— I just meant that you look comfortable. If you’re running cold, then you need all those layers. It’s not a critique.” Another huff, and he glances awkwardly around the clearing.

“I’m just rambling.” He murmurs, “As per usual. I need to, uh— to stop doing that.” A pause. Silence.

You’re not really digesting his words anymore, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts— it’s a few moments before you speak again. You turn your gaze towards him, observing the sight of him in the perpetual darkness, profile only illuminated by faint trances of your flash-light. Swollen lips, half-bitten, brown eyes blown out of proportion, irises wide and unabated.

You know a lot about him, that’s already been established. Albeit, there’s still fragments you haven’t quite discovered yet. And sure, you shouldn’t want to find out, to unravel him completely. You shouldn’t— because that’s a direct transgression to the rules you’ve always set for yourself. But you do.

“Are you..” your face softens, “Uh, are you alone a lot?”

You’ve never been the type to ask about personal life, about the complexities behind closed doors. Sure, you can deduce his home-life through months of experience and mannerisms, but you’ve never asked specifically about his own relationships. The question catches him off-guard.

He blinks, a few too many times, and then finds his eyes are very very interested in staring at his shoes.

“Yeah.” he finally answers, “But it’s okay! I’m used to it. I don’t mind,”

“I have lots of time for my own pursuits,” he adds. “Reading and-— um, chess and stuff. And the team, of course. But— they’re not- they don’t want to, like, hang out. Outside, I mean. They have their own lives, partners. Families, so it makes sense.”

It’s not okay, and you’re uncertain why it pains you so much. Maybe because he makes the effort to arrange plans, to connect, and it goes undervalued, wasted. In contrast, you’re content in loneliness. People are overbearing, insufferable at best. You’ve never had much of an interest in an abundant social life, you’re content in your small, reserved circle. But he has no one.

And yet he has the audacity to pretend it’s okay?

“Well, if you want to like, be lonely together sometime. That would be fine with me.” you say after a moment of strained silence.

His whole life he’s struggled to fit in, to meet, to conform to the expected societal norms. Acceptance, community, humans are wired to want integration, and yet he’s always fallen short. It’s why he throws himself into facts, into research, into studies and books.

His shoulders have slackened. For a slender frame he’s remarkably tense, like he’s waiting for an eventual downfall. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I’d uh, also be fine with that. More than fine actually..”

No one has ever wanted him, they’ve just needed him and he wonders if there’s really even a difference.

────────────

That’s how it starts. Inevitable, in the grand scheme of life and work and you. Spencer watches as you soften, slowly unfold protected layers over countless evenings of chess and movies, and suddenly you’re not so untouchable, so beyond conventional existence, and yeah, berate him for loving you even more because of it.

You’re restless, completely. A night in his apartment is always fated to end with you tugging him through cobbled streets, desperate to catch some air. Tonight, it’s raining. Protected beneath a ledge of a closed shop, you’re approximately 12 minutes away from his place. Spencer should hate you for bulldozing his routine, he really really should. But it’s never that simple, not when it comes to the intricacies of you, and the exhausting effect you prove to have on his sanity.

He leans back against the soaked brick, watching the rain pour over the road, greyed streets, washed out by water. Just passing 10PM, like most nights, his mind seems to be insistent on you you you. And sure, he’s longing (if that even encapsulates his want), longing for something, to connect the invisible line between you two.

“Why am I not surprised,” he mutters, “Always a disaster with you.”

The cold will undoubtedly lead to you being sick, but the sight of you under the glow of streetlights, water-stricken and frustrated— he can’t bring himself to complain. For a moment, he simply stares. At your profile, the sharpness of your features, the exasperation in your blinding gaze. You’re beautiful, in ways he can’t comprehend.

“Hey,” he backtracks, “Not in a bad way, but like, in a you-cause-so-much-unexpected-stuff-to-happen kind of way. You’re always bringing me into messy situations.”

The space between you is so minimal, but so stretching. There’s an invisible wall, one that he won’t ever tear down, can’t ever tear down, in case he loses you. He wants to reach out, to grasp at your hand, your wrist, or even your shoulder. Anything, to feel the barest touch of your skin. Something.

Touch. To feel. He’s never allowed himself to sink into the warmth of someone else before, he’s never been able to. But for all your terror, he knows you’d hold him. Or maybe that’s just what he hopes for. Maybe it’s a delusional hypothetical.

When you do return to his apartment, you’re laughing. A common sight these days, as mind-bending as that might seem. The journey back was discombobulated, rushed movements, jackets spilling over heads, drenched thoroughly, attempting to outrun the inevitable storm that now seems to consume the area.

There’s not a part of you that regrets your offer to be ‘lonely together’ because whilst you despise most humans, Spencer doesn’t seem to be on that list. No, you could spend hours doing nothing with him, and still find it more gratifying than the best laid plans.

Plus, these days he seems happier. You both do.

“You look like a wet dog,” you say as you attempt to sort your way through his soaked hair. You’re sitting on the floor of his kitchen, cold skin pressed against tile.

He grins. You’re both laughing, and it’s so good. “Thanks for the compliment. You know, you’re not much better—“

He finds himself subconsciously, instinctively, leaning into the touch, as if his body has been searching for this, as if his skin is merely wired to only ever respond to your hands. Head tilted backwards, allowing access to the tangled strands, his neck arched slightly so he can still see your face, every expression that passes by.

He has a brief internal war with himself, wondering which part of the situation exactly he’s freaking out over. Maybe it’s the cold, which will undoubtedly leave him sick for the next week? Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve initiated a touch of some variety, your hands in his hair, a moment of human connection. Whatever it is, he can’t help but sit in silence, staring at you like you’ve just hung the stars.

────────────

Both of you are incontrovertibly devoted to work, married in some key aspects. You stay late, ceaseless over-time, covering offices with evidence and reports, rehashing cases until you’re too exhausted to function. So naturally, it’s no surprise that you’re coerced into taking time off, mandatory leave— if only to appease the rest of the team, and their wilting sanity.

Road trip. That’s the ‘logical’ solution, considering you’d both end up exasperated at your respective apartments, overthinking the cases you’ve been shut out of. The Appalachian trail. Neither of you have any interest in the hike, albeit the skyline yurt, overlooking the area, endless planes of landscape, certainly seems like a selling point. If only to keep you countless miles away from work.

November. The days are hazy, mostly due to your shared fatigue, interminable exhaustion. Spencer has abandoned his glasses now, and you try not to mourn the loss.

The drive felt eternal. Hours stuck listening to the radio, only interrupted by Spencer’s endless rambling and your sporadic requests for coffee. There’s something intimate to travelling together. Being trapped in a car, in close proximity, sharing a space.

Now, the two of you are situated in the middle of nowhere, nature, something he’s never really sought out in his life. He’s an intellectual not a lover of the outdoors. Sure, the science of it fascinates him, the endless cycle of life and death, but actually being here — in the midst of it all, amongst the trees and fog — is a foreign concept.

You’re standing beside him, eyes observing the landscape, sharp gaze tracing the outline of the horizon. He wonders if you’re thinking of the city, of work, of anything else besides the freezing air. He just wants to get inside, to feel warm, to stop shivering.

But no, you’re too busy looking at the stars.

“That’s Cetus,” he says, pointing out a constellation, “Sometimes referred to as ‘The Whale’. Cetus, uh.. he was a sea monster in Greek Mythology, sent by Neptune to devour Andromeda. Perseus saved her by turning him to stone using the head of Medusa. Medusa, who he beheaded using a mirrored shield whilst she slept.”

You hum, “It also represents the whale that swallowed Jonah when he disobeyed the Christian’s God.”

“Yeah! Yeah, because Jonah went to Nineveh instead of Tarshish.” he looks back at you, “You know, Cetus covers over 1200 square degrees of sky. But personally, personally, my favourite is Ursa Major.”

“The great bear? Cmon, that’s so basic.”

“No it’s not! What? Don’t judge my taste,” he protests, “It’s named after Arcas. Zeus fell in love with Andromeda—“

“Mhm, and Hera, his wife, turned Callisto into a bear. Zeus raped her, the Gods were fucked up.”

“The Gods were fucked up, yeah.” he agrees, before knocking his shoulder into yours. “But Ares wasn’t, you know he counts as a pseudo god for feminism.”

“Shame he was brutal in every other aspect.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, “You’re paying more attention to the stars than me.”

Later, much later, you end up on the floor. Laying back against cold wood, you both stare at the domed ceiling. Distorted vision, clouded by alcohol; there’s not much to do around here, and you had incautiously thought a bottle of whiskey would be a good idea— no, actually, you just wanted to see Spencer intoxicated. Beyond messy nights at the bar in D.C, when the team was desperate for a break from work, he’s never really been in this state before.

The area is vast, too big, but you were hardly going to plummet yourself into the middle of nowhere without a few prominent luxuries— you’ve always been devoted to the city, the endless drama, sleepless nights and constant futile noise.

This is… different.

Alcohol has made everything more intense, magnified, in every aspect. The yurt is dark now, the only light coming from the occasional flash of lightning, slicing through the sky and illuminating the area in fragmented beats. The room is cold, but he’s over-warm. Not accustomed to the alcohol, to the buzz it leaves him feeling, the pleasant numbness in his limbs. As if nothing matters.

He’s laying next to you, mid-tangent about space. “Did you know that Jupiter has 95 moons. That’s more moons than the average solar system. And that most of them are named after Greek or Roman mythology. There’s— there’s Ganymede, that’s the largest natural satellite in the solar system. It’s nearly the size of Mars..”

He turns on his side to face you, watching as you mirror his movements, “And, and,” his words fail him, “You are so pretty, — you have amazing, amazing eyes, you know that? And this laugh….” that makes me burn, “You should laugh more. I’m going to make you laugh more.”

He’s staring at you, half-lidded gaze following every line, contour, every feature. He wants to trace his hand along the curve of your cheek, your jaw, down your throat, your shoulder. He wants to touch, to feel you. He can’t tell if you’re aware of his suffering. The torment that comes with being this close to you, yet not able to touch you. How painful it is. To love you.

“Spence..” you mutter, and oh, you’ve never called him that before.

“Mhm, yeah,” he says, bringing himself back to the point; the topic of space. Ignorant to his words. “The planet Jupiter, it’s a gas giant. You knew that, right? It’s got the shortest day of any planet. And on top of all that, it has a redspot! Like, this huge, massive vortex, bigger than the Earth, and it’s just roaming the atmosphere.”

A loud peal of thunder interrupts his speech, followed by the incessant, incessant rain, pounding against the walls. “I love when you listen to me. No one’s ever really listened to me before.”

It’s not fair, not fair that you’re about to plunge yourself into the centre of the storm. That Spencer Reid laying next to you, in the middle of nowhere, would be your fatal flaw. Hamartia. The downfall of the walls you’ve kept resolute for so long. You could blame the alcohol, curse yourself for encouraging this when you’ve both always balanced on a thin, trembling line.

But perhaps it was always inexorable.

You cup his face, running your hand over his pretty profile. Pupils blown out of proportion, so beautiful it scalds. You can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, from pressing a soft, fleeting kiss against his lips.

“I’ll always listen to you.” you promise. Because if no one else has the decency to acknowledge him in full capacity, you will.

And Spencer? Oh, he’s frozen, caught in some location of suspended space. Every thought, every coherent piece of logic in his head has come to an abrupt hilt, silenced by your mere touch.

Your words sink into his skin, seeping into his bones like fire. He’s burning, burning hot and feverous under your hands. The kiss is brief, and he whines involuntarily when you pull away. “Don’t stop. Please— not yet.”

You want him, repeats like a mantra. In all universes, in the grand scheme of time, he never considered this alternative.

Suddenly he’s glad he resides in this reality.

So you kiss him again. You’re aware that you’re both a tangled mess on the floor, limbs interwoven, lips pressed against lips. You’re aware that you’re both drunk beyond comprehension, and that you’ve used alcohol to cheat, to skip time, to fast-forward to the good. Because if you were sober right now, you’d be too calculated, too rational to allow this.

And it hurts— kissing him. Because he touches you like he’s never felt anything before, like he’s been impossibly starved for the entirety of his life. Neglected, in so many ways. You’ve never been interested in caring for someone before, but somewhere along the way, he buried his way into your chest, and now, you’re hopeless to the consequences.

Right now, that doesn’t even feel half as terrifying as it truly is.

His hands are everywhere, everywhere they can reach, grasping at anything they can find, trying to bring you closer, closer, to keep the heat burning against his skin. He needs it, needs the feeling of your lips. He’s overwhelmed, overwhelmed as his tongue slides against your own, as his hands press at the curve of your waist, tracing over skin he’s only been dreaming of touching. He feels alive, incandescent with pure bliss.

“I’ve wanted this,” he mumbles against your skin, between breaths. Between the fire. “For so long, so long,” he sighs, pressing his forehead against yours when you both become reacquainted with the concept of oxygen. “Don’t regret this tomorrow, please?”

“I won’t.” you say, drawing his lips back to your own.

And you do stay true to your word.

────────────

Epilogue (—post ‘part I’):

You’re not entirely sure how to approach the situation of sex, considering you’ve just defiled Spencer Reid on various surfaces of his apartment. So, naturally, you untangle yourself from his body, and take him to see some mundane documentary on sealife. Mostly because you know he’ll enjoy it (and you’ll certainly enjoy him leaning over your seat to comment on omitted pieces of information and technical inaccuracies). Then, when it’s over, you muffle his protests on crime as you coerce him into sneaking into another screen.

Now you’re not the most inconspicuous pair, sitting in the back row, practically hidden by shadows. He has one arm wrapped around your shoulder, thumb tracing over the bone there, lost to your proximity, the warmth of your leg, thighs pressed together.

“You are so pretty,” you mutter, transfixed by the sight of him, illuminated by flashing lights. Some excessive slasher playing in the background, discarded.

“Shh,” he sighs, “Be quiet, there’s— you’re distracting me.”

You’re difficult, you know; your head is leant against his shoulder, lips dragging along his jaw, then his neck, just under his ear. He can’t focus on the screen, the movie barely registers, not when all he can feel is you, your lips against skin, leaving remnants of heat wherever they touch.

You’re aware that you’re a few meticulous touches away from giving him a heart attack, albeit it’s not like you have any interest in stifling your attraction. Not when he’s sitting right next to you.

“What was that? Oh? You want me to be quiet. Maybe you should do something about it then, because personally I have no interest in—“

His lips are quick to silence you. Ruinous, you kiss like you talk, with a sense of assertiveness, all encompassing and dizzying. He’s leaning forward to deepen the contact, to chase chase chase your mouth with little regard for etiquette.

“It’s—“ he mutters, stumbling into his apartment when you predictably get kicked out of the cinema. “All your—“ his hands are tangled deep in your hair as he silences your protests with his lips. “Fault.”

He’s lovesick, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip to stifle the contact. He feels light, like everything will be okay, all of the ache will dismantle, disintegrate if he keeps kissing you. But comfortability breeds defiance, so when you try to close the distance again, he’s laughing breathlessly.

“There’s paperwork we need to do—“ he says, and you blink. “It’s stacking up, and uh.. it’s very very important.”

You both stare at each other for a moment. Then, he’s grinning, leaning forward to press an apologetic kiss against your lips. “Sorry, sorry. Had to.”

“You’re a dick.” you confirm, hands slipping beneath his sweater to trace warm flesh. His reaction is scarring, body clattering back against the wall, torso arched forward as every part of him follows your touch mindlessly. He’s not sure if he’ll ever grow tolerant to you, or if it will forever feel this devastating— his swollen lips are parted and a soft oh escapes.

“But a pretty one, so maybe it cancels itself out.” you laugh, adorning his neck in soft kisses that trail, growing sharper, more biting as they begin to puncture skin, leaving behind mauve blemishes. The process is delirious, and you’re coaxing the most destroyed, whiney noises from him now.

Spencer sighs, “I don’t think that’s how it works—“ his sentence is destroyed by a whimper, something pained, when you run your tongue along a forming mark, when you deepen the burn. “I’m uh— yeah.”

You laugh at his mindless sentence, “I thought we needed to do paperwork, hm?”

“What’s paperwork?” Spencer responds, gripping your hips, guiding you back, back, back until you both meet his couch. “I’ve never heard of that— stop making things up.”

“Are you going to behave?” you ask, straddling his hips, pressing against his clothed dick, working in slow movements to intensify the stifled stimulation between you.

“No.” he answers simply, plainly. As if the answer is self-evident. Which, considering the state of him, debauched beyond reason is. His needs are conspicuous, from the scattered bruising that lines his neck to the indecent noises spilling from his throat. He grips your hips, whines when you refuse to push harder against him.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you can reduce him to this state, diminished to nothing but want the moment your touching becomes calculated.

And god, he wants— he wants to trace every part of you. The shape of your collarbone, the dip of your throat. He wants to mark himself on every part of you. The curve of your wrist, the inside of your hip. Every part available. He feels like an open wound, vulnerable in ways he never anticipated he could be, desperate for you to thread the skin back together, to ease him from this repetitive cycle of desperation.

“Going to punish me?” he teases, watching the myriad of emotions that cross your features. The way you’re so intently focused on him, on his skin, the need he emanates. Fuck— he loves it, he loves how he’s the object of your attention, every thought, every sense devoted to him. No one else, just him.

He knows he’s begging, that he’s all but pleading with you to fix him, to make him whole again, because for some reason, he can’t remember what he was like before you.

“Maybe,” you answer, moving off his lap to destroy the friction, and he wants to protest, but before he can even cohesively think of words, he’s clattering off the couch to sink to his knees.

He’s looking at you now with this distinctive gaze, big, innocent eyes, pupils dilated beyond necessary reason, and you’re disorientated, undone just by the sight of him. It’s fervent, this thing that burns between you, and neither of you are sure when you got so tangled in each others orbit, but you’re not complaining, not when you’ve got him sitting pretty on his knees for you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you state, drawing your hand across his jaw, tilting his head up so he can meet your gaze entirely. You let out an exasperated breath of air, “Don’t look at me like you’re innocent here,”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” he says, and of course he’s playing naive, utilising his lack of experience in this moment, exploiting it to spite you.

Your palm meets his cheek, and he’s gone, just staring up at you, too distracted to formulate a coherent response. He never considered himself to be a particularly ‘dirty’ person until you kissed him, and then he crumbled, evanescence of logic, sanity.

He pushes his thighs together, moaning whorishly at the friction.

And oh, that has you gripping his hair hard, earning an assortment of obscene sounds. With your thighs parted, you hike your skirt up further, allowing him to slot himself in place. He’s quick, needy with his actions, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, trailing them up up up until he meets your panties. Wet, soaked through, a prominent indication that you’re feeling this as much as he is.

He drags them down your legs with little regard, fabric discarded, forgotten about for greater priorities. His tongue, tentative at first, runs along your clit, and you’re responding, hips canting against his face– yeah, suffocate him. He could die very happily right here in this demeaning position.

Tug, he buries his face entirely into you, moaning at the taste, at the sheer concept that he’s being throughly used. It’s messy (in more ways than one), but he knows that it’s good based on your reaction, the way your thighs are wrapped around his head, digging into his shoulder, the way your hand is threaded through his hair, controlling, instructing until he’s just a mindless instrument to your desires.

“Oh— fuck, Spence, that’s it— that’s it. So good, so good f’me.”

“Taste so good, needed this so bad.” he all but whines, pussy-drunk, a little too gone for anyone’s good. He’s straining against his pants, creating damp spots that he really can’t justify, and it hurts. He pushes his thighs harder together, trying to relieve the ache with some pressure, even if he’d love nothing more than to shamelessly grind against your leg right now, to rut in the most indecent way possible. He’s squirming, and don’t come untouched don’t come untouched, focus.

You’re tight, and when the first finger slips inside of you, there’s a visceral reaction from both of you. His hands are deft, slender and long, and with a subtle curve to his movements, he finds that spot before he’s even added a second digit. He would be fairly content with staying here forever, at service to you, watching as you fuck yourself against his face, body bucking and squirming, and yeah– there you go, that’s it. Right there. When you tense, he looks up to meet your debauched gaze, noises spilling from your swollen mouth as you fall apart. Clenching to unclench, perfect.

He’s still dizzy when he comes up, tongue and fingers and mouth and chin all obscenely coated in the aftermath. Oh god, he can’t even stand it, he looks way too satisfied with himself, and he is. He is. He is. He is.

You say how amazing it was (which is sweet, very very sweet) and then you say you’ve used him like a whore. And um. Yeah. Okay. That’s good— great even. He loves being useful!

There’s his bruised knees and then there’s the couch. Stumbling movements, the way he collapses, the way you follow after, shifting to straddle his body.

“Need you. Just you— please. I’ve waited for this, want it so bad.” he mutters.

He’s painfully hard, and he’s been so good, which means he’s prone to acting out now. As you work on staining his neck with remnants of this night, he slips his hand into his pants, and yeah, much better. He could cum just like this, with his palm wrapped around his dick and your lips all over his neck, polluting skin. He should be patient, he knows but he’s so hard and the need is too overwhelming. And oh oh oh. He squirms, releases a pitiful noise that has you reacting, noticing.

After that, his hands get bound behind his back.

He probably deserves that.

He can only watch the depraved actions, the formulated process of you removing his trousers, then his ruined boxers. By the time, he’s bare, undone to your eyes, he’s a disjointed mess. Every time you touch him, the sensory nerves that formulate inside his body burn, agonisingly so, to the point where he can only melt, capitulate to you alone. You, only ever you. He’s fairly certain he was created for you exclusively.

You roll your thumb across his tip, watching as he squirms, grasping your hip, and your free hand, discernibly breaking orders to keep them tethered behind his back. You just lace your fingers together, press a soft kiss against his knuckles, before you return to the simple task of tearing him to pieces.

No. Big. Deal.

“You like that, hm?” you ask, letting out a dissatisfied hum when Spencer only nods, flushed and breathless, debasing little whimpers escaping his mouth with every stroke. “Use your words, — use them or i’ll stop. You don’t want that, do you? Because I don’t think you want that at all.”

“No—no, please, god please don’t stop. I like it— I like it a little too much. Feels, oh.. feels so good.”

Your hand is wrapped entirely around him now, and he can only shift closer, bury his face into the crook of your neck, shelter his gaze from your sight because if he looks at your pretty eyes again, he’ll finish immediately.

God, he’s loud, he’s so loud, a litany of whimpers escaping him with every cataclysmic stroke. It gets to a point where you have to untangle your hands, push your thumb into his mouth, and thankyou, something to do with himself— he just moans around the digit.

“That’s it— taking it so well.”

“I’m trying! Oh, oh… m’trying. Just wanna be good for you— please, please it’s so much.”

He’s so sensitive, too sensitive, it’s good and bad, and it’s a complete onslaught to his deprived body. He’s not sure he’ll ever comprehend how you touch him, the way every movement seems to be perfect in derailing his mind until he’s too blissed out to know anything beyond you.

He’s really trying to form words with your finger in his mouth, but it’s just a mess of saliva and he wants to tell you that he’s a germaphobe, that hands carry so much bacteria, but he’s more than willing to trade germs with you anyway, to offer himself up on a sliver platter, lamb to the slaughter. Sacrifice, he can’t even articulate how much he would renounce for you.

You push your thumb deeper into his mouth, watching as it hits the back of his throat, as he gags around it. There’s blind, unwavering obedience to his actions now, taking it all willingly, passive in a way that counteracts his previous behaviour.

So naturally, you ask if he feels like a slut right now, and yup yup yup. But, as morbid as it may appear, he has no qualms in being your slut, because it’s just you, and the thought that you’re here, that you’re with him, taking care of him in ways he was never convinced he would receive, is intoxicating. Dismantling. Self-destruction, he supposes.

You draw your thumb from his mouth, push it into your own to show him that yeah, sharing germs is not an issue. “Such a good boy for me, Spence. So proud of you.”

“Oh..” now he’s just crying. It’s formidable.

“That’s it— you’re safe. I’ve got you, gonna make a pretty mess for me, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Mhm. Wanna cum so bad, need it— pleasepleaseplease.”

You hum, “Just a little longer for me. You can do it. Be a good boy and hold it.”

“Cant—“

“Spencer.” you say, actively silencing his protests, and he can only nod, following your command mindlessly.

It’s a form of art, he believes, the way you dismantle him piece by piece, the way you destroy his cognitive function, strip him raw until he’s just a tangible mess of everything he was always deprived of. Until it’s just him, just him who you still stare at starry-eyed.

When you finally grant him permission, the bliss has him unable to form anything beyond stuttered oh oh oh’s, his back arching, his nerves ignited, and maybe he’s falling, falling fast because it’s all just a labyrinth of transient pleasure that his body struggles to keep up with.

But afterward, when he’s satiated, you’re still there, and you’re still so painfully warm and real.

There’s something gratifying about the sight of you, taking unprecedented care to clean his skin, to coax him out of his stupor when you’re supposed to be the incarnation of sharpness. It’s a hard concept to grasp, that the blade will never penetrate him, that he’s always going to be your exception.

When you’re tangled in sheets, foreheads pressed together, when it’s just the two of you, and nothing else matters, he does consider luck again. And how so much sacrifice was worthy of enduring, if only for a fleeting second of this.

“I love you,” he mutters, “I have for a long time.”

And you sigh, cup his face, it feels like a solar eclipse, like something astral. “I’m not sure when it happened, but yeah. I love you too, Spence. Love you enough to deal with the insane amount of paperwork HR are going to give us for this shit.”

“Worth it.” he mutters, kisses trailing along your jaw, dipping to meet your neck. “So so worth it.”

[discofama]

I love how comfortable Adam and Lute are around each other.

I mean, look at this

So they're casually together during the extermination, much like how friends gravitate towards each other when in an event even if they're not talking or doing anything, just because it feels easier than being alone. Or perhaps Lute flew closer because she saw the huge war machine approaching Adam and got a little worried.

Charlie and Vaggie are going to attack them, and look at what they do:

Despite being Adam the one closer to Vaggie, he doesn't move an inch. They don't say anything (besides the shit talk) and Adam doesn't even look at her, he expects Lute will take care of Vaggie with no order from him, even if he's closer.

Obviously Adam is confident and doesn't think Vaggie can hurt him at all, but he clearly trusts Lute to get her out of the way. He probably knows how bloodthirsty Lute is for Vaggie and lets her have her without a word, and Lute complies, again, without a word, leaving him to handle the strongest of the enemies at that moment (Charlie).

So in this second, Adam and Lute communicated in silence. Adam didn't move and trusted her to cut in even if it was him the one under attack, and finally Lute trusted him to handle Charlie so she could fight Vaggie, as she didn't seem worried at all of the possibility of Charlie coming to protect her girlfriend.

They're in harmony. They're just natural together.

He lets her grab him like this and is willing to listen to her. It's clear he respects her and deep down appreciates that she'll keep him from doing something stupid, even if he whines.

She also climbs him? Lol. (Look at how she holds onto his arm 🥹 she's super comfortable with touching him!)

They're always hyping each other up, like in their songs:

(Look at Lute's smug face here 👇, she's sooo satisfied with what Adam's saying)

I honestly believe that they kinda make each other worse, that neither of them would be SO mean all the time if they didn't have the other: a companion who is always backing them up, who agrees on any crap that comes out of their mouth (Lute lets him talk shit about random women and nods, Adam goes along with Lute's homophobia despite seeming to not care that much about homosexuals).

Many portray Lute being a lot smarter than Adam, but I think they're both dumbasses. I mean, we laugh at Adam for saying he never made a mistake in his fucking life, but it was Lute who first stated angels don't make mistakes, somehow keeping a serious face. I think Lute seems smart because she's more quiet and cares about the rules, but she doesn't do logic very well either and can be impulsive too, as shown in the end of ep. 1.

They're probably each other's best/only friend, because they're just so unlikeable. And it makes sense they'd deeply care for one another. They care about that person that stands them and agrees with them and actually enjoys being with them. They're always seen together, hanging out even off duty. They clearly have a lot of fun.

I'll be honest. I ship GuitarSpear, I love it, but I don't know if I want it to be canon for 2 reasons:

1. Lute might be a lesbian.

She is so repulsed by homosexuals that it feels personal. Talking about how disgusting and blasphemous Charlie and Vaggie's love is, or how many cocks were in Angel's mouth and calling him a whore. She cares too much about it for it to not be personal, and I think it makes sense that she'd be a closet lesbian with a shit ton of internalized homophobia. She probably knew about Vaggie's sexuality and held a lot of resentment towards her before tearing off her wings. Maybe she was even attracted to her and was so repulsed about it that she redirected her self-hatred to Vaggie.

2. I think it could be better for Adam's character.

Let's just think about it. This character has a very distorted view of women, he has a fixation on them and hypersexualizes them. So the idea of this horny man, who always sees women with sex colored glasses, being good friends with a hot female below him in the hierarchy with no sexual or romantic interest whatsoever is nice to me. It'd work as sort of a redeeming quality in regards of his relationship with women, and I personally think this man is very redeemable. Let's hope he gets a second chance!

Still! All of this trust and comfort and team feelings can be read as romantic and I certainly wouldn't mind if it becomes canon! They could be the best villain couple!

Summarizing, these two are soulmates, end of the story. They're worse together, but also probably provide the other of a very needed company.

I have no clue if Adam will actually come back, but if he doesn't, I'll feel very bad for Lute. Yeah, yeah, she's an evil bitch, I don't care.

[boopshoops]

Ah, how odd. It appears one of the puppets in Playful Land aren't quite like the rest. Almost like it has one of those consciences everyones been talking about, huh?

oc template by ai-kan1!! dividers by dollywons! Sound on!

Name: Isola Pinacirco-Cira

Nicknames: Pin, Pinpin, Goby

Gender: Demiwoman (Though she has not fully realized it yet!)

Pronouns: She/they

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Birthday: May 5 (Taurus)

Age: ??? (She has been asleep for a very long time, but she has been awake for 19 years)

Height: 5'0" or 152cm, though the height of the doll is adjustable.

Voice Claim(s): Lisa Hannigan, Miyuki Sawashiro

Twisted from: Pinocchio, Wendy's Music Box (From Tinkerbell/Peter Pan)

Unique Magic: "I've got no Strings" - The bearer can control and grant practically any unliving, immobile object the ability to move under their command. The more objects are being controlled, the more magic is consumed. However, the generation of blot is shockingly slow, allowing the bearer to use the magic for hours or even days at a time. Depending on the object, it may appear as though it is being haunted by a poltergeist. The magic, however, has a very short range. The object must be within five feet of the bearer, or it is no longer effective. Isola uses this magic to move her body on a day-to-day basis.

Grade: Freshman, though only after the Playful Land Event

Class: 1-D

Job: Playful Land Performer

Hobbies: Dancing ballet, face paint, makeup, putting outfits together, singing, sewing, wood carving, ceramic/pottery/resin repair.

Likes: Feather accessories, being alone, birds, rodents, bugs, performance, applause, classical, soul, and lofi music, animal figurines.

Dislikes: Rain, being alone, excessive heat, winter, bass boosted, fast, or hyper music, too frequent of doll repair jobs, cramped spaces, being unable to eat.

Fears: Being unlovable, never loving someone else, living a life alone, never living in a body they feel comfortable in.

Summary: A quaint performer at the renowned Playful Land, constantly known for putting on a show of elegance and grace. With her unusual cadence, she often struggles to maintain an audience despite her immense talent. Isola frequently scares off certain guests on accident. They have a very hard time handling their emotions, causing them to either come off highly unnatural or lacking facial expressions to a degree that could disturb others.

That's just the cons of being one of the many puppets on the premises, though. She is often mistaken as being one of the other, more robotic workers. Isola's body is detailed and articulated enough to stand out among them, but off-putting enough to be immediately recognized as inhuman. Nonetheless, she remains on the traveling amusement park as what is considered a "highly prized item" by the owner. Of course, you don't come across puppets like her everyday, do you? Might as well put her on display.

When night hits and protocol begins, when the consequences of breaking the many rules of the park take their toll, they can do nothing but watch over it all. It makes her feel sick, quite honestly. Disgusted. Yet, she isn't allowed to help anyone. Her attempts to help usually cause the visitors to flee from her anyway, followed by her own set of serious consequences imposed by the owner. The most she can truly do is make it harder on the other workers: including those she has no choice but to be closest to on the ship: Fellow and Gid- Ah. Wrong Identity. Ernesto and Gino.

CHARACTER PLAYLIST - INSPIRATION - CREATION STORY

Author's Note: holy fuck they have a chokehold on me. hOOOO they have a chokehold on me. she came to me in a vision and did nOT let me go until she was created, holy fuck. UGSDBGSDIUAAAAA anyway, i love her and she is my baby. my slightly fucked up baby.

Note that relationships are up for possible changes in the future- I have thought about possibly involving them with someone romantically, but i feel like I want her to put HERSELF first before that. Her story is one about self love, self discovery, and self care, and I feel like throwing her into oc x canon romance too soon would negate that. ALSO she is NOT a part of my TCOAV au!!! i mean. im probably gonna still do fun stuff where she could interact with my ocs from there since im an au fanatic, but- yeah. tcoav is a story more focused on Yuu Shi, and I feel that would also take away from important parts of Isola's character and growth. tis an excuse to try a new oc profile format too <333

that all being said and on a somewhat less related note. i wanna make a comic of her so badly. fuCK. evaporates into thin air. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

Tag list :D

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @cecilebutcher @kitwasnothere @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @techno-danger @scint1llat3 @the-trinket-witch

@beneathsakurashade @kathxrat-01 @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto @qsoap

@sillyslipperybananapeel @tixdixl @twstinginthewind @gimmeurmoneyagh

[idkfitememate]

Mora is a God’s Best Friend Pt. 1

♡︎ « Next Part ⋙

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Mora Reader x Liyue

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 4.6k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, crack, reader is slightly angry, only slightly tho I promise :)

Now, you wouldn’t say you were a greedy person… which would be a huge lie because holy shit you were compared to a dragon by your friends more times than your own mother said she loved you-

When you got your paycheck - which was a very handsome paycheck mind you - you hoarded that to the best of your abilities, but when you saw something you had to have? Bought. Spent all your cash on it.

… You have to many plushies-

You weren’t exactly an avid believer in the whole “money makes the world go around!” thing, but it certainly helped. Like, have you seen how happy Elon Musk is? That bitch living the life and you want that too.

But despite your adoration to money…

THAT DID NOT MEAN YOU WANTED TO BE IT!!

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍩🍰୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

When you woke up from a nice nap after a long day of hard labor- I mean work, you couldn’t see. You also couldn’t feel your arms or legs or… well anything in general that one would say when describing their body.

You did have your five core senses though, which is nice. Well… minus sight-

You couldn’t move, and whenever you would scream the people you heard around you - their voices were muffled… were you in a pouch?? - did nothing to help.

You continued for what you assumed to be hours, never once paying mind to the fact that you never got hungry or thirsty or ran out of breath. Then you felt warmth.

Something large and warm wrapped around your form which scared the shit out of you because as far as you were concerned, you were still very human sized. You continued to scream into the darkness as you listened to the… transaction (???) going on above you and-

Wait a minute. You recognized that voice.

A lot of your money went to Genshin Impact in your day, you were what was known in the fandom as a “whale”, did I mention you got payed handsomely?

Yeah it was enough the basically be a sugar parent for all your friends.

So you heavily related to a certain character who was constantly characterized as helping another with his money problems.

Can you guess who it is?

I’ll give you five seconds to guess!

5…

4…

3…

2… fuck it I hate the suspense-

It was Childe!

And hearing his voice above you shattered what you may have thought was happening to you. Yes you may or may not have thought you were being kidnapped-

You then felt yourself get placed on another warm surface and oh god-

“All repairs will be made in a timely manner! Thank you for the patronage!”

You flipped through the air with a small ‘whoosh’ and landed back in the hand.

… WERE YOU FUCKING MORA?????

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍭🍫🍪୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Being merged to a weapon wasn’t fun.

Well at the very least you weren’t “merged” with a weapon. For some reason the blacksmith couldn’t find a way to use your specific mora body to upgrade Childe’s bow.

So there you sat as a glorified decoration. Right on the front of the bow.

But you did find something out, the second you felt yourself attach to the bow, you could suddenly see! And you could very tell that you were in Liyue, which made sense. And when you coughed on accident, the blacksmith jumped and looked around, before shrugging and turning back to her work, which meant you could now be heard as well!

All five senses back baby!

Only shitty thing was that you couldn’t move on your own, and you now noticed you were no longer hungry nor need to breathe, as well as sleep.

So you were stuck.

For four days.

Unable to speak or move.

I mean, you were still figuring out your existence yourself, no need to get anyone else involved with the process since you were beyond confused.

You’ve read the Isekai stories - and fanfics - but you had never read one personally about being isekaied as money. Yes, you have seen the vending machine one. And the one where he gets turned into a dummy ASMR head mic-

Not the point!

You were just trying to figure out how to… exist (?) like this. Which was pretty hard when coming to terms with the fact that you’d never eat your favorite foods again.

Never again…

“Thank you so much for choosing our services sir! Have a nice day!”

You were suddenly picked up and placed in the gentle care of Childe - ironic sentence I know - and off you both went.

You want to know what a weird sensation is?

Being a bow and feeling someone pluck your string.

Now yeah, that sounds super sensual but it felt more like someone… pulling your hair?? You couldn’t really place it but that was honestly the closest equivalent. Feeling him rub his hands all up and down your… body (?????) was a new experience to. Again, not sensual, just ticklish? And it sucked trying not to giggle-

God this was weird and confusing.

“Well I’m free for some time… I’m sure a little practice won’t hurt…”

Oh good god you could not catch a break.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍧🍮🍬୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

A new fear had been unlocked within you.

You, a piece of mora crudely attached to a psychopathic killers bow, had just been de-summoned.

And it hurt.

BAD.

No one will ever know what that was like, the feel yourself fading, every atom slowly falling away into nothingness, and then the silence. That cursed silence. Deep dark blackness was what you felt for what appeared to be thousands of years to your still human brain.

Never again would allow yourself to feel that pain.

As you were summoned, you continued to stare off into the distance, coming to terms with what you had just witnessed while ignoring every word that came out of Childe’s mouth.

Something or other about practicing you couldn’t give a shit.

You only watched the changing scenery around you as you and Childe wandered aimlessly through a forest.

Then he dropped to his knees suddenly, which cause you to silently curse and sputter in shock.

Did you mention you got good at that? Being silent? Because you did.

Being that you were placed on the front of the bow, you could see perfectly where he was aiming, that being a small bird that you had to squint - how you squinted? You don’t know - to see.

It was ridiculously far away, covered in leaves. You were also slightly scared because Childe was being silent.

Childe. Silent.

Not two words you ever expected to put into the same sentence - again - but here you were.

You felt the bow string being pulled back, and him lining up the shot.

Then, you felt something course through you.

Obviously it was the Hydro infused arrow he knocked onto the string, but something else flowed through you.

You could feel yourself reaching, trying to connect with something to better control this sudden power flow, and then you found a great source.

His Hydro Vision.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍡🍪୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Childe was a seasoned soldier and fighter, literally anyone who met him could tell you that.

He kept that fact near and dear to his heart, that fact being why he fought so hard, to become stronger and finally find that fight that would be the end of him.

He longed for the day where he would be strong enough to fight his mentor, and weak enough to die at someone who he saw worthy enough to end his stories and legacy.

… Legacy was such a funny word to the man as all he could think of when it was spoken was his second, stronger form, Foul Legacy. Ironically, that’s what he though historians would call his stories in the far future - he would never admit how close it was due to the Electro Delusion that sapped away at his life, slower due to his strength but sucking away his soul nonetheless - would call it, a Foul Legacy.

He was self-aware enough to understand that people hated him, yet oblivious enough to leave his family in the hands of The Rooster, a man known for leveling cites before they even had the chance to riot against himself and the Tsaritsa.

He was complex in the same way he was so easy to understand.

Just as how he allowed the world to see his Vision but kept his Delusion hidden.

Just recently he had gotten his bow repaired after a… well not a hard mission more so than it was annoying.

And by the Archons it was beautiful! Any and all scratches and marks had been repaired, a new layer of pain was an added, a stronger string was restrung into it and just… mmm she was beautiful.~

The finishing touch was the little golden emblem stuck directly on the front. So shiny and pretty…

He just had to take it for a test run!

Nothing too big or anything, just a little hunting as he hadn’t indulged himself recently. Just a couple small birds or mammals nothing anyone would notice.

… No that isn’t a human corpse nu uh ya stupid-

Besides that wasn’t with his bow! That was with his blades it doesn’t count!

But anyway, he quickly spotted his first target of the day, a little finch, and aimed.

He noted that his bow, while still heavy, felt much more sturdy and the current string was stronger than his last, most likely due to the whole “new string” thing rather than being better because that old string had weathered a lot.

He quickly knocked his first arrow and took a silent breath in, calming his shaking hands and the butterflies in his stomach. Of course neither were from fear or nervousness rather than they were from excitement and dare I say ecstasy. A smile forceably carved itself into him skin as he watched how easily Hydro infused itself with his arrow.

Though almost immediately after, he felt a sudden surge of power coming from not him nor the arrow, but the bow itself.

Specifically the small golden piece sitting front and center.

This was either an unknown or well known fact depending on who you asked, but the bow was Childe’s worst used weapon. He was much more skilled with a blade - like his duel Hydro blades or the duel-bladed polearm he wielded as Foul Legacy - and he even had some experience with a catalyst, but bows just seemed so.. cowardly. Even with his catalyst he was near to his opponents as its attacks were based on his fighting style, but he personally believed that bows were for the cowardly.

Those who wanted to fight but were too weak to even dare step foot onto a battlefield.

At least that’s what he thought before Capitano shoved a bow into his arms as he complained about needing something more to do. A new challenge.

And it opened his eyes.

Bows were not for the weak rather that they were for the stealthy. Something Childe was not the best at.

He was honestly more of a ‘punch more and talk later’ kind of guy. But the bow was forcing him to learn and grow, which was more than welcome in his book.

But this power was not something he had accessed yet. Hell, he’s barely felt anything like it with any other of his weapons. Closest he has ever gotten to this kind of power would be with Foul Legacy, and even then it’d be a stretch.

He’d even have the gall to say he could never feel this kind of power from his Master.

He watched as the area he sat in was bathed in a blue glow was his Vision and the arrow he still held grew brighter and brighter. With that, a gold shined through as the small golden piece on his bow - which now that he looked closer looked almost exactly like a piece of mora, just with the details buffered out - also glowed.

He couldn’t remember picking up any kind of ‘enchanted’ mora, just one random one he found on the roads right outside of Liyue.

It didn’t seem off in anyway-

His thoughts were cut off as Hydro swirled faster and stronger around him, knocking him off his knees and onto his ass, his grip on the arrow and bow tightening.

All the animals ran - of course including the small finch he was aiming for - from the sounds and lights, and something deep and primal inside of him wanted to run as well.

Something screamed that he wasn’t supposed to see this, to feel this.

Something was wrong.

Soon enough he couldn’t keep his grip on the arrow.

He let go.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🍫🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Everything was a blur to you.

All you knew was that you had to let go of this build up of power.

You had to.

Something bad would happen if you didn’t and god damn it you weren’t about to find out.

You truly, desperately, just wanted to go home.

The songs of narwhals and whales comforted you.

‘You will be okay’ they sang.

You would be okay.

Just let go.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍪🍬୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

People in the city watched in shock as a forest not too far from the harbor became a light show of Hydro and golden light.

Small animals and creatures ran towards the city, this including monsters, but nothing stopped to attack. In fact, it seemed like everything was too scared to even consider attacking.

Ningguang and her guards quickly ran outside to asses the situation, meeting up with fellow Vision Holders on the edge of the city.

However, Xingqiu and Yelan seemed… out of it. And on top of that, Childe - though he wasn’t her favorite he was strong and could be of help - was no where to be found.

“Does anyone have a grasp on the situation?” Nigguang asked, only to receive shaken heads and no’s.

“I tried to get close,” started Xiao, “But something knocked me back. I was able to hear the Harbinger’s screams from inside, and from what I could gather, he doesn’t seem to be the… direct cause.” Despite what he said, Xiao seemed a bit upset at the fact that Childe wasn’t the true cause, likely just wanting an excuse to beat him up a little.

The Geo ridden Lady huffed befit finally turning her attention to the two Hydro users who seemed entranced by the lights.

“What are you-“

“They call to us.” Xingqiu cut her off.

“They sing for us.” Yelan finished.

Nigguang looked back to everyone else who simply shrugged, before noticing Zhongli also looked out of it, though before she could get a word out, he also spoke.

“It’s so calming… I have not felt true peace like this in…”

He didn’t even finish his sentence. His eyes, unlike the two Hydro users, were entranced by the golden lights that highlighted the light show.

Nigguang’s face was filled with confusion. Though she shook it off.

And again, before she could give out any orders, she was interrupted.

Though not by anyone, but by the lights themselves.

A flash of blue light blinded the group.

Then, the song of a group of narwhals and whales filled the sky.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍮🍧୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Blue and gold light enveloped near all of Liyue, the show being noticeable by all surrounding nations, Mondstadt especially.

And the air filled with the song of Narwhal and Whale alike.

A miracle of All-Devouring Narwhals and All-Encompassing Whales swam into the sky, dancing through the clouds.

They flew gently over Liyue, the nation having been stunned into shock and stillness over the whole situation.

Nigguang watched with bated breath as they sailed by the Jade Palace, only exhaling when they passed with not problem.

Keqing watched from beside Nigguang, mesmerized at the trail of celestial power flowing behind them.

Xiao rushed up buildings in order to get closer, but was knocked back by the sheer force of their power, though he was caught by a worried Ganyu. Both landed by an armed-and-ready Shenhe, who was more than ready to attack if need be.

Xingqiu and Yelan simply stared up at the miracle, their Visions resonating with Hydro energy they released. They felt empowered, and could feel the pure raw and unfiltered strength rolling off them in waves. They wanted to be close to that power. Wanted to feel that power.

Something deep inside them wanted that power.

Everyone in the city watched as the miracle flew just above their homes and businesses, making their presence all the more apparent as they bathed the golden city in royal blue.

This continued until a small bird was dumb enough to try and take flight to get away.

This bird being the one Childe had targeted- not that anyone knew.

The Whales and Narwhals corralled the bird, forcing it to fly higher and higher into the clouds, and it wasn’t long before all ginormous creatures followed behind it.

Then an even brighter flash of blue echoed across the skyline, small star-like glitters falling to Teyvat then fading from existence before they could touch its surface. A small amount of feathers followed after.

Nigguang could feel her jaw drop.

All that… to kill a bird?????

… She was going to need a week off just to comprehend what had just happened.

Keqing pat the woman on the back, sighing in tiredness as well.

She had a sneaking suspicion that Childe may have had something to do with this… event. Gods the paperwork she was about to be loaded with…

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍬🍯🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Childe had figured out what primal instinct had led him to hide in the cave he was currently tucked in.

Foul Legacy.

He had yet to really tell anyone, but due to his time in the Abyss and its creation, it was safe to say it pretty much had a mind of its own. Which wasn’t bad as it would help him to doge attacks or alert him of presences he may not have noticed himself, but the shrieking and crying he heard from it deep in his soul was enough to tell him that this whole situation was wrong.

Nothing about what just happened should have been… well it shouldn’t have happened to say anything.

He could still hear it, resonating deep inside his soul, Electro cracking out whenever he heard a noise he couldn’t identify.

It was protecting him.

As he would for it.

He didn’t dare draw another arrow from the bow in his grasp, not until he learned what the fuck just happened. Including the fact that for some odd reason, he desperately wanted to just… stare(?) at the Narwhals and Whales until they disappeared, luckily Foul Legacy snapped him right out of that and told him to find shelter.

He did have his Hydro blades out, however, patiently waiting till he - and Foul Legacy - felt safe enough to exit.

A sudden loud caw of a bird made him flinch - not his proudest moment - and kick the bow to the side. What he wasn’t expecting was the loud string of curses that came from… the… bow..?

So now it was pinned to the wall by one blade and a foot, the other blade pointed directly at… it? There were no weak points on a bow..?

…Were there..?

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🍨🍪୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

This is not what you wanted.

First, you get isekaied against your will; you didn’t even remember how you supposedly DIED… if you DID die anyway…

Two, you were reincarnated as MONEY. FUCKING MONEY. How does that… who comes up with that??? A fucking high schooler who has nothing better to do than write shitty fanfiction????

And finally, three… HE KICKED YOU!!! WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT TO THREATEN YOU?!?

You didn’t understand your powers, what the FUCK just happened, why Hydro just… became?? you??? And why on gods green earth you had to be MORA. You’re never gonna get over that you became MORA???? Like??? Really??????? Money????? You mean, you love the stuff but COME ON-

Jesus fuckin’-

Huffing at the man before you, you finally decided speak to this bitch before you because how dare he.

“Listen here-“

You were cut off by the blade moving closer to your body(??????) and Childe growling - yes. Growling - at you.

“No you listen. I don’t know what you are but what in the name of the Tsaritsa was that?”

If only this man could see your eye twitch.

“No how about YOU listen? I don’t know what the fuck that was, but I plan on figuring it out now could you PLEASE MOVE YOUR DAMN BLADES FROM MY FACE?!?!? God…”

The Hydro blades slowly removed themselves from your face, as did the boot. But you were then picked up by the man, held shockingly gently in his grip.

“What… are you?” He asked hesitantly.

“I… I honestly don’t know how to answer that question. But I’m pretty sure I’m that little Mora piece on the front.” You answered. You forced yourself to calm down. This wasn’t his fault, just so happened to be the guy who picked you up… this was going to be a mantra for a while…

“Oh… so your this little thing right here?” You felt his fingers wrap around you - and you mean your real body - and pull. Fear immediately filled your being.

“Wait! WAIT!-“ He tugged you right out, rendering you silent.

When he pulled you out, your body glowed and you reverted back to looking like a regular piece of mora. Engravings and all.

You, meanwhile, were screaming your head off, as you now knew that if removed from a weapon, you’d just be a regular ass piece of money again. Immediately you mind started racing, wondering as to way, and the only thing you could come up with was the Elemental Energy, but lore wasn’t really your strong suit… you just liked the pretty women and men…

You felt yourself gently being pressed into the slot carved for you in his bow, and started talking again.

“NEVER! Do that again, please. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t do that. You know how terrifying it is to be able to see and speak then move a couple inches and no longer be able to see or have others hear you? Fucking horrifying I’ll tell you that…” you watched the man shiver before sighing.

“Noted. Um… anything else I should be made aware of before I ask anymore questions?”

You jumped on the opportunity.

“Whenever I am apart of your weapons. Don’t. De. Summon. Them. Hurts like hell. Ever felt your molecules beings torn apart bit by bit? Not fun, don’t recommend it.” Again, Childe shivered.

“Now… you really don’t know what that was out there?” He asked again, and you sighed.

“I wish I did. I’ll admit, I was thinking of that one move you use as Foul Legacy where you summon a Whale… and a bit of your master…”

You watched as Childe’s eyes lit up.

“You know of Foul Legacy? And of my Master?” Then his eyes darkened.

“How do you know of them..?” You shivered… as well as money can shiver anyway.

“Uhm… magic?” You asked, a noticeable tilt in your voice.

His glare then lightened up.

“Oh! Like… when you attach to a weapon, you suddenly gain a bunch of knowledge on that person?” Holy shit he just gave you a way out!

“Uh… yeah! Yeah that’s exactly what it is! You figured it out! Sorry I was uh… hesitant. Just didn’t want to reveal all my secrets, you know?” Holy shit. Holy fuck. Please work please work-

“That’s really amazing! A magical piece of mora… with the ability to make your attacks beyond that of a God’s… heheheh…”

Oop. Shit. That was not good.

“Listen. I’m not going to do anything for you without my consent, you got that? I’m not even here of my own free will mind you. Just gained sentience in your bag and all of a sudden I’m a bow. This is going to be a symbiotic relationship or I’m finding someone else, alright?” You spoke up, not even hiding the fact that you were… well a little more than concerned with what he just said.

“… What are you going to do if I don’t respect your wishes?” Shit fuck shit fuck-

“… I will scream next time you use me.”

And into a standstill you both sat.

He stared at you and he could feel you glaring into him. It was probably weird feeling a bow glare into him. New feeling he never thought he’d feel before.

“… Alright. Taking someone’s free will isn’t really something I do anyway. So don’t be fearful… comrade?” Was he asking your name..?.. Eh. Comrade is nice and you don’t feel like giving it out so meh.

“Comrade works. And uhm… yeah.” Welp that was awkward. Good job 👍🏾!

The two of you continued to stare at each other in silence for a few moments.

“So… what’s your favorite dish?”

“I can’t eat asshole-“

“Childe!”

The mentioned man whipped his head in the direction of the call, honestly scaring you with how fast it moved - you are a hundred percent sure you heard a crack.

By the covered entrance of the cave stood Nigguang, Keqing, Zhongli and both Hydro Vision users. Nigguang was the one to call him.

“What are enough doing out here? Do you have any idea was caused… whatever that was?? And - as much as I hate to ask - are you alright?” She was firing questions out at an extreme speed, making both you and Childe dizzy.

“Uhm… I was hunting, I… haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about! And yes , I am okay. Thank you for asking?” You knew he sucked ass a lying but like… how did that sound convincing in anyway?? The hesitation just made it worse!-

“You haven’t the foggiest clue, you say…” Keqing asked while glaring at the ginger. Ed She Ran lookin’ headass-

“Yep! No idea, not the slightest idea, definitely wasn’t my bow or the enchanted mora on it! Nope not at all.”

The group looked at him, and he looked at them.

They looked at him, and he looked at them.

They looked at him, and he looked at them.

And this went on for several minutes before this super smart man said:

“Yep, not me at all.”

And before anyone coup ask questions you groaned, forcing all attention into yourself before tearing him a new one.

“You dumb motherfucker! “I haven’t the foggiest idea😢” my ass!”

“How did you say that?-“

“Shut your bitchass up before I sew it shut. I should beat your ass for that. How they fuck you gonna say some shit like that and expect them to just go “Oh okay!😚” like some dumbass?”

“No really how-“

“I will slap the stupid outta you don’t fucking test me ginger bitch. Fatherless. That’s why your father sold you ass off it’s cause you so DAMN stupid, Jesus.”

“Mora?”

“What do you fucking want you cunt.”

“… We’re still in front of people.”

“… I will not hesitate to shoot all of you-“

… Nigguang was going to have so much paperwork tonight.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER LETS GIVE IT UP FOR MORA!READER!!!!! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

They’re here you guys!!!! Get happy get wild!!!! Holy shit that ending was mild!!! I hate it!!! Anyway-

This is gonna SAGAU because… meh. But that doesn’t matter! Their here! But I’m not done yet, next thing on my checklist is humanizing the animals (Main ones) so I’ll be be radio silent for a bit again lmao (unless I choose to post shit which is very likely-) ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Mora!Reader! More is, of course, on the way! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

Have a magnificent day/night my dears!~

/)/)

( . .)

c( づ♡ Loves you guys!! <3

[myalvmss]

⎯⎯ DATING HEADCANONS WITH AQUAMARINE HOSHINO❞

CHARACTERS. aquamarine hoshino, ruby hoshino, ai hoshino, akane kurokawa mention

MISSION. headcanons ; adventure mission, silent yet shining

WARNINGS. mentions of pregnancy & sex? this is mostly just me digging into aqua's character more and more, ANGST will most definitely be in this, but dont worry!

BUTTERFLY'S NOTE. special thanks to my friend named Ryu I guess LMAOAOAOAO. THIS IS SHORT??

⌗O1: when I tell you, this man makes me frustrated every two seconds of reading the manga, I have a love and hate relationship with this man that not even scaramouche can compete with, BECAUSE RIGHT OFF THE BAT, HE'S A RED FLAG. BAHAHAHAH 😭

⌗O2: when you two first meet, he barely does effort in the so called friendship, or what he thinks of acquaintance.

UNLESS you are of use to his plan, so he'll probably use you, sorry bitch </3

⌗O3: this mf's ideal type is just someone like ai hoshino (imo NO ONE can replace her, not even akane sorry not sorry) and what makes you think you can pull off an ai?

i suggest you CHANGE him, not change yourself for him honey

⌗O4: this depends on your personality, but the relationship might be a sunshine reader while aqua's the grumpy one LMFAOAOAOAO

⌗O5: aqua doesn't engage in social media much, unlike his twin sister ruby. in other words, he's a boomer yet I'm not surprised so it's mostly you who takes pictures and videos of u both

⌗O6: you and aqua often go on dates at the cafe, park, or mostly private places where you two can get alone time with no interruptions

⌗O7: he's SO OVERPROTECTIVE ABOUT YOU. imagine yandere aqua omfg, he even makes sure that you're safe and doing well everyday

A caring boyfriend but a red flag 🚩

⌗O8: In the song, "MEPHISTO" I think there's a lyric where "I'll bet my life, I'll give it to you" would imply that to the people he cares about, aqua WILL risk his life for you. THOUGH this song probably directs to ai, or ruby? but either way, he still cares about you if you were actually his girlfriend. not just for his revenge plan, but purely his own love for you.

yet sometimes I think, "would aqua even bother asking you to be his girlfriend at a time crisis like this?"

It's a possibility he wants to keep you safe and unharmed from danger, so he'll probably lock up his feelings from you and keep it a secret so no danger will come for you, but it's not guaranteed </3

⌗O9: in an au where ai is alive, I wouldn't say that ai would straight away approve of your relationship with aqua. she's a mother, yes but not those kinds who don't give a fuck abt relationships ykwim?

when she first met you, she's a bit suspicious of you, especially if you're someone who's young, but your mind is well beyond your age.

It took a while, but she got used to you around with aqua and genuinely loves you

“you two aren't getting a kid, right?” just a few reassurances that YOU BOTH AREN'T GOING THE SAME ROUTE AS WHAT SHE DID.. “mama! don't ask questions out of the blue like that!” ruby come rescue us both PLS

“mama.. cut it out please,” insert a little bit of a flushed red aqua PLSS

⌗10: honestly, taking back the topic where you change aqua actually would work, because this man is wanting revenge and is willing to kill his father.

you can't be the one who helps him, that will end up ugly if he does succeed, because let's not forget how aqua can get arrested despite being a minor, yet he's 17 (currently in manga) and he might turn 18 soon enough

so you have to BE THE SAVIOR who changes aqua to be a better person and set aside this revenge

honestly. it's not worth it, I KNOW this is about ai hoshino getting her justice, but would she wanna see her kids in danger like this??

DON'T go off like "aqua this isn't like you 🥺🥺" NO LMAO. you knew aqua when he was 16, that's a super high possibility on who you met him, and the person he is now is just the same aquamarine hoshino you him at sixteen

just imo, you need to convince aqua that his revenge path won't do anything better for anyone's lives, because correctly he's ruining everything — the man probably doesn't care but you gotta make him care and move on for the better like how ai would want for him and ruby

ENOUGH WITH THE DARK SHIT LMFAO PLS AHAHAHAHAH

⌗11: if you're smaller than aqua, then he'll probably use you as a head rest

lay his head on your shoulder

rest his head on your lap

place his head ontop of yours

⌗12: SURPRISE BACK HUGS >>>>>

⌗13: whenever aqua is jealous, he always keeps it a secret from you so that you won't tease him about it

think of a scenario where you're talking to some guy on the street, a fan or an old friend;

aqua would slowly wrap his arm around your waist and pull you towards him WHILE giving the guy a very overprotective look

⌗14: he can't help it but aqua always compliments you in his mind, like how cute or gorgeous you are

⌗15: i like to think you both started getting together after his so-called revenge plan for his father

⌗16: aqua's careful around you, by that I mean when it comes to sex. he doesn't wanna end up being a replica of his father.

by that I mean, he'd ask for consent first for sex ( aqua's not entirely that kind of person who doesn't ask for consent )

and also would not have sex during his teenage years, as he prefers to have it at adult years ykyk

⌗17: you're a pain in the ass for him, gotta say that BAHAHAHHAHAH

⌗18: since in aqua's past life, he was a doctor ( bro's a DOCTOR. ) that took medical education, it's a high chance that he still remembers a few things

probably trauma from learning all that pain of a education lmao

⌗18: so whenever you get hurt, aqua's always the one who bandages you :))

⌗19: since aqua dislikes bell peppers, you probably shove those in aqua's mouth for shits and giggles AHAHAHA

⌗20: he acts like 'himself' (or the past him) when you're around, and you're the only person who could do that

“i noticed that he's like how he used to be when he's around y/n..” ruby spoke to herself, watching aqua and y/n from afar as a small smile appeared on her face. “I'm happy for them both.”

[evilkitten3]

ok so like i know the reason is just. sexism but one thing that really irks me about how the post-timeskip naruto manga handled which characters became medic nin bc it makes absolutely no sense to me

sakura's decision to train under tsunade makes sense, and i love that she got a super strength power up, so no notes there, but the other teams.... yeesh

so first off, team ten. we're told that ino decided to follow sakura into mednin land to keep being rivals with her... despite that at no point factoring into their rivalry at all beforehand. ino never showed any interest in that, nor was the yamanaka clan ever mentioned to have anything to do with healing as far as i can remember. it's like going to art school to stay with your bestie when your goal is to become a dentist. why are you there. find other ways to spend time together. it also kinda goes against her family's whole thing as. the guys who do the torture stuff. and it's barely ever relevant anyway

for team ten, i think the team medic should've been shikamaru, and i think this not just bc i think it makes more sense skill-wise (something about the way the nara clan's various shadow jutsu work just screams "you need good chakra control for this" to me), but also bc i think it would make asuma's death a thousand times more painful. bc shikamaru is a slacker. he's not learning medical ninjutsu bc he wants to, he's learning it bc someone on the team has to in order to stick together. they're all chuunin now; one of them has to be a medic. them's the rules. but he doesn't really care that much, even when he is trying to learn, and he's so used to being smart enough to not have to pay attention in lessons anyway that he's not prepared for classes that require his full focus. and then asuma dies and shikamaru is doomed to spend the rest of his fucking life wondering if he could've saved him by paying just a little more attention to those medical ninjutsu lessons (he could not have (but he'll never know for sure))

team eight makes some sense, since giving the girl who struggles with fighting the healing job isn't exactly out of nowhere, but i do feel it was the lazy choice. kiba already had a sister involved in the medical business, even if she deals more with animals, so he could've started learning from her and found that he liked it. plus kiba's goal is to be hokage, and the current hokage is a mednin, so it's not like it wouldn't support his goal. or shino could do it; would add another layer to his character. hinata works fine but. it's just not a very interesting development imo

but what really gets me is team gai. good freaking grief. out of every single team, team gai was the one with the most obvious choice. bc there was only one choice. lee can't do any kind of ninjutsu, and tenten's only real backstory is that her chakra control isn't good enough for her to be a medic nin. so it had to be neji. canon establishes that every team has to have a medic; this is a policy tsunade got passed even before she became hokage, so no way in hell is she going back on it now.

moreover, neji becoming a medical ninja - especially if hiashi encouraged it - would show some development for the hyuuga clan maybe starting to suck a bit less. bc as a medic, neji would be bound by oath to stay alive for as long as possible. imagine a world in which hizashi came back and hiashi was able to tell his brother that not only was their family starting to change, but his son had chosen a path that would prevent him from ever following in his father's footsteps. it would be the first step (of many) to show that the hyuuga clan was freeing itself from its own bullshit.

also it would've made sakura catching the zetsu pretending to be neji a thousand times funnier. like that's her coworker. they've shared shifts at the hospital together. she's seen neji drink vodka straight from a bottle and then crash on her couch after they got out of a twelve-hour surgery on the fucking dumbass chuunin who managed to step on his own boobytrap. she knows him.

[leafostuff]

One Heck of a Joyride[Ft. WooAh's Nana]

Word Count: 14-15K~ words

Collab with @octoberautumnbox

My Author's Notes: we are so excited to finally release this fic for yall, me and box have been working on this fic since the end of FEBRUARY (almost 3 months) and we have been working on it so hard to make it the best it can be so I really hope you will enjoy this fic

@octoberautumnbox's author notes: there u have it! took the better part of three months, but it was really fun to work on :DDDD Thanks to leafo for making sure i didn't slack LMAO

No tags since it is too long but this is fluff and smut

Thanks: of course @octoberautumnbox for working with me on this amazing collab. @4m1rz for being my lovely beta reader and @libraryoferos for being my motivation to not be lazy on this fic

And so without any further preface, let's get started, shall we?

================================================

“And I expect you all to get along this year. Leave the past behind you as you all face a new future together.” Sporadic applause rises slowly from the crowd and dies down twice as quickly. The dean sighs away from the mic and drifts offstage, leaving everyone disinterested in the rest of the program. It all goes by in a blur, and finally ends right as the air conditioners start to fail against the heat of a summer not-yet-ended. 

Your attention is drawn away from the droning on and on from the stage and towards the many characters that populate the theater with you. You catch glimpses of people talking with their friends, a few crazy hair colours, and the occasional sleeping student who’s no doubt already saving up hours for the all-nighters to come. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone in the front row with both people sitting next to her conspicuously leaning away. They seem to want to get up and leave her there by herself, but the way she gives no reaction despite the jeering tone coming from her seatmates leads you to think that she’s asleep herself. 

~~~

“So yeah, That's the tour, bucko. Check the map if you’re ever lost.” Your student tour guide points at the multi-colored document on your phone. Vaguely you recall the various little symbols: which classrooms you can sleep in, which bathrooms are haunted, which shortcuts are best, all of the must-know basics of college life. 

As you continue scanning around the campus, the girl from the assembly catches your attention again. She has her hood up this time, but you can tell it’s her; her quick pacing and how she is not looking around at anyone making you believe that she’s trying her best to hide.

“What about that one? Do we not talk about her?” you ask, pointing at the oblivious figure walking past, drawing eyes and whispers much like your own. 

Your guide scoffs at the absurd idea. “That’s Nayeon. And no, we don’t. She fucked up last year, big time. Got a bunch of us in trouble. So stay away from her, she has those goody-two-shoes germs.” he says, walking away as while signaling you to follow him.

You wonder what she could have done to gain such a reputation. She was adorable earlier with her hood off, but the way people talk about her makes you want to steer clear against your own will. 

~-~-~-~

Curiosity ends up killing the cat, and you manage to gather bits and pieces of the incident from last year from gossip, class lore, and even the way some professors acted:

“She’s the luckiest bitch in the world with not a single shred of common sense. Seriously, who goes and rats on a hundred other students like that?”

“The test incident shows she only looks out for herself, even if it means bringing down the entire class.”

“There’s really no excuse for it. You have the answer key in your hand, of course you take a picture! You don’t just leave it where it’ll incriminate some other innocent loser and say you’re only trying to do the right fucking thing.”

The sheer number of factoids you gather from the wild bunch of sources only slightly make sense. Unfortunately, trying to piece them together only took up more space and brainpower which you should have used to study for your midterms coming up. Keep to yourself and you can just barely pass and move on; there is no time for college drama.

After the exam, you approach the professor to ask about possibly bumping up your grade. You decided to maybe half-ass an extra credit assignment and get the lowest passing score, but you resolve to just see where it goes. While lost in thought, you nearly bump into the small girl in front of you. already talking to the teacher, and by the way they’re whispering, it seems like it’s something serious. 

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here anymore, Miss Kwon,” the professor admits as he takes off his glasses and rubs his nose bridge. “None of this was necessary. I thought we wanted to leave all this behind us.”

Nayeon looks down to her toes in defeat. “I’m sorry, Sir. I was just thinking, maybe I’d get sent out of class this time.” Her voice cracks, giving away her vulnerable state: she’s near tears but trying to fight everything back to look tough. Sadly for her, you think, none of it is working.

“Look, just try to lay low. It’s your last year before all of this starts to not matter anymore.” Your professor finally puts his glasses back on and looks Nayeon straight in the eye. “Trust me, you’re better off keeping your head down. You’ll be fine.”

She walks despondently off to the right and out the door. Your feet choose to follow her, but a sudden jolt restores your common sense. “And you, Mister New Guy, what seems to be the problem? Beside your dismal score, that is.”

You have a slight feeling you are not getting a higher score.

~-~-~

After talking it out fruitlessly with the professor, he releases you from his classroom and you make your way out. The conversation with him didn’t take long, and so you arrive to a few jeers and muffled laughter once you step outside.

“Serves her right. Trying all this bullshit isn’t gonna change anything.” 

“Seriously, cheating on a test she obviously studied for? How dense could she be?”

“I bet she just wants to show us up. She’ll study and then cheat, then she gets perfect marks on the test and she’ll show us she’s untouchable again.” 

You find it hard to believe that Nayeon would resort to something as convoluted and pointless as that, but then again, you really don’t know her to make a judgment. Whatever she was thinking, you agree that it was idiotic to pull that sort of thing, even if you didn’t see any of it.

The weather on campus is the right mix of cloudy and sunny, with rays of light shining respectfully on the grass and pavement of your college courtyard. Something tells you that people-watching by the gym feels like the perfect lunchtime activity for a day like this, so you find your way to the properly noisy setting and look for a spot out of the way. 

You settle on a spot by the side of the gym with the perfect amount of shade and wind, but you’re instead drawn further back to the rear by strange and irregular noises. Turning the last corner, you’re met with a surprising figure.

It was Nayeon, sitting with her back against one of the walls, her entire body curled up like a ball. You slowly inch closer and closer to her, and you realize the strange noises that you heard before were instead sniffles and cries coming from the lonely girl. Finally as you get close enough, Nayeon feels your presence and raises her head.

Her eyes were full of tears, who knows for how long she had been crying, and you could feel the sadness coming from her eyes; they were trying to tell you something, however, it's hard to figure out what. Her expression of sadness didn't stay for long though as soon enough her expression turns angry when you get closer to her, squatting down to look at the girl from a closer angle.

“Please, go away. Leave me alone.” The small girl pushes you away, but with her hand preoccupied wiping away her tears, she can’t do much to get rid of you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You have the nerve to do what you did last year and still show your face?” The anger in your voice catches you off guard. Since when did you take it personally when it came to her?

“Oh fuck off, new guy,” she taunts. “So I’m fucking hiding here, what more do you want?” She tries to act tough again, but it’s painfully apparent to both of you that it isn’t working. At this point, you really do just want to leave her alone. And just like every other time, nothing’s stopping you. So why are you staying?

You breathe a sigh of defeat at the situation you find yourself in. “Look, I don’t have any sort of beef with you personally, but come on. This is pathetic. You’re only embarrassing yourself by doing all this bullshit that isn’t like you at all.”

“And what if it’s not like me?!” Her shout sends a few birds hiding in nearby bushes to take off. This sort of language takes you aback from her; Little Miss Perfect Kwon Nayeon, top honour student, teacher’s favourite pet, hating herself? 

“I… I don’t like being me, and I don’t like what I am.” She wipes her tears again and tries (and fails) to look you in the eyes once more. “So if you’re another member of the ‘I hate Nayeon’ club, well… Better show the club president some respect.”

She sits back down with her back against the wall. Nayeon's eyes are wet for the last time before she wipes them off and faces her lack of tears.

Normally in situations like those you would just walk away and ignore people like those for the rest of the school year, but for some reason with Nayeon in front of you, showing herself being weak, fragile, and sad, something about her makes it so you can't leave the situation alone. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you have to know why.

“No,” you turn back to her as a determined expression is painted on your face.

“What?”

“I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me.” You stand your ground, arms crossed, and Nayeon can't seem to be any more pissed than before. “What is going on? What do you mean you don't like yourself?” you ask.

For a while, no one dares to speak another word, and you wonder if what you have here is an argument. For a good few seconds, she stares at you intently as silence hangs heavy in the air. 

“You think,” she says defeatedly between sniffles, “that I'm Little Miss Perfect, right? Like everyone calls me ‘the straight-A girl?’ Well I’m not, and I’m tired of everyone saying so.” She fishes out a very used handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her eyes of tears, only for them to be replaced by more. 

“It can’t be that bad, Nayeon. People look up to you, I’m sure.” You finally notice your alarms are blaring and you’re put on high alert. What you just said was the exact wrong thing to say, and you’re at critical risk of involving yourself in her messy situation more than you should.

She side-eyes you, calculating if you’re being sincere or not. She stuffs her handkerchief back into her pocket carelessly as if knowing that she’ll only pull it back out again soon. She looks down at her hands, deep in thought, looking like she’s trying to grapple with something she might regret. 

Once she’s done, she fumbles around in her backpack. She fishes out a tiny black notebook she seems to keep so well hidden, on the cover of the notebook the words ‘Nana’s Bucket List’ are scrawled in big, bold, immature-looking letters.

“Throughout all of my life, I always wanted to be the top student, the best of the best like no one ever was, and I succeeded, you know…” she scoffs. “Top marks in Elementary, Middle school, and Valedictorian in high school.” She sighs and tries to fight back more tears, though you notice she’s a bit more successful this time, with a bit of hope and yearning in her eyes.

"But on the other side… The other side seems so great. I mean, I see all these movies and books about college life," she says in between residual sobs and hiccups. She opens the notebook, showing you a not-so-long list, and even though it's hard to see the text from the small size of the writing, you can make out a little bit of what’s written on the paper.

Cheat on a test 

Get drunk

Party all night

Dye my hair

Sing in an Open stage show

Sneak into a Public pool

Shoplifting

You know...

Most of what you read makes zero sense, and you’re half-convinced this girl is just crazy. You stare at the scribbled letters, hoping to draw more meaning from them, but Nayeon shuts the little notebook in your face and starts putting it back away. 

"I want to do them all. Drinking, breaking glass bottles, partying, all that stuff," she explains dreamily. She zips up her bag and pats it down, making sure it’s secure beside her, and turns her attention back to you, “I want to live like a normal girl, you know what I mean?” she asks, you are not sure if its because of the tears, but her eyes seem to glitter.

"That's very cliche, Nana," you jab at her, making fun of the nickname she gave herself.

"That's all I know, though. Please." She takes your hand in between hers and looks up at you, teary-eyed and seemingly begging for her life.”This wouldn’t kill you, all I’m asking for is some help crossing stuff off of the list.”

You hate how well it works on you: her big, round eyes, her adorable little pout, her cute pleading voice. It goes against everything you know, and even now you’re sure you don’t want to get involved in whatever this would turn out to be. And yet, despite even the most deeply ingrained lessons you’ve learned for yourself, all it takes is a brief moment for it to come crashing down.

With a disbelieving sigh and a sense of regret creeping in, you ask: “What’s in it for me?”

~-~-~-~

You take a bite of your burger and breathe out. Cheap bun, dubious patty, artificial cheese, it all takes you back to a past life. You're left to momentarily wonder how you ended up where you are now, and slowly it comes back to you. You messed up.

"So, about the list." Nayeon sets down her cup, ice cubes clinking against each other as they swirl around her soda. "I already did one. So that’s one less thing for us to do”.

"I can do that much math, Nayeon. What do you take me for?" You chomp down on a few fries grumpily. 

"I didn't mean it like that. All I'm saying is there are just a few more months left until graduation, so we'll need to be quick. We can’t be lazy about this." She pulls out the little black notebook and flips to an unfamiliar page. The words "cheat on a test" has doodles of a devil's horns and wings and tail around it, with lots of eyes and ears decorating the rest of the ruled paper. Above it, the poster you recognize from the movie "Bad Genius" is copied, albeit crudely, in a thought bubble.

"I did this one last year, don't ask. Anyway, this next one should be easy enough." She flips to the next page, showing a couple pictures of beer cups and wine bottles, surrounding the words “Get Drunk.”

“Wait, is this the ‘incident’ people hate you for? What even happened there?” You eat more of your fries, trying to hide your curiosity. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work and she nips the conversation in the bud.

“That’s not anything you need to know. What matters is now and the future. Now are you with me or not?” She snaps the notebook closed and yanks it away from your sight, back into the pocket she keeps it in. 

“I can’t help if I don’t know what exactly your deal is,” you say disappointedly. You pick up your own drink and take a sip, and the cool soda washes over your tongue and throat on the way down. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be with everything that’s going on.”

For a moment, you catch Nayeon’s gaze on you, dumbfounded. You could almost hear the gears in her head turning as she tries to process your logic, but it takes a while. As she thinks, though, you take a particular interest in how she handles it: her mouth is hanging slightly ajar and her eyes are only half-focused on wherever they’re pointed. You notice how delicately her bangs fall on her forehead, how her eyebrows furrow and crease, how she tries finding the right words yet can’t find the message she wants to send. Odd things to notice, surely, and yet here you are. You messed up.

It starts coming back to you. The jeers from your classmates as you walk down the hall grow louder in your ears, and you fight against your hands trying to cover them with the knowledge that none of it is real anymore. The tears you fight back all the time surface for another rematch, but with your current state, you may be at a disadvantage. 

Fortunately, she shocks you back into reality. “Hey, are you listening? I’m feeding you, so the least you could do is pay attention.” She bites a small chunk of her burger and chews, and you notice how her cheeks puff slightly and the corner of her mouth is decorated with a dollop of mustard. 

Cute.

1 + 2. Get drunk + Party All Night

“God, this is stupid,” you think to yourself, exiting the convenience store. With a plastic bag in your right hand and your phone in your left hand, checking the time and the address Nayeon sent you earlier today. Finding it was easier than you expected, and you tried not to let the walk to her dorm set any expectations for you.

You bring your knuckles to the wooden door and make three quick raps. It swings open very quickly and you’re dragged into the cozy space without even the slightest chance to take off your shoes. 

“You took forever! Did you bring the stuff?” She looks all over you and pats you down, looking for what you brought her. 

“Get off, will you? I put them all in my bag like a normal person.” You swing your backpack off your shoulder and carefully place it onto a nearby table. Nayeon takes a seat and waits excitedly for what you brought for the two of you. From your bag, you produce three bottles of soju, three five-packs of Yakult, six cans of beer, and four bags of chips. She eyes each item with absolute interest as they leave your backpack, and she hardly contains herself once you finish and zip up your bag once more. 

“Okay, so how does this work?” Her eyes sparkle with wonder, and while waiting for your instructions, it was clear that as much as she was excited, she was also inexperienced.

“First off, get us some shot glasses and a pitcher. Oh, and a can opener.” Nayeon bolts off to the cooking area, and you can hear drawers opening and shutting loudly. You start getting concerned when you hear plates start to clatter against each other, but thankfully it dies down quickly and she returns with two small glasses, a decently sized pitcher, and a can opener. 

“Shit. I meant bottle. Bottle opener.” Without even a hint of annoyance, she rushes back off into the kitchen and, after a few more rummaging sounds, she returns with the correct item. She really must not know what she’s doing.

“Come on, show me!” She shoves the bottle opener into your hand, and you’re left with no choice. 

“Don’t you have a roommate we have to worry about?” You pop the cap off one of the soju bottles and then tear the aluminum top off two bottles of Yakult. “She’s out with her own friends. Hurry!” Despite her starting to get on your nerves, you pour all three into the pitcher and swirl them around together. Once you’re done, you pour the mixture into each of the glasses until they’re full. 

“Bottoms up, Nayeon.” 

“Bottoms up!”

The both of you down your drinks: yours slowly crawls down your throat, but hers disappears straight into her stomach. She reels at the burning lines left by the alcohol all over her esophagus and takes a bit of time to recover. 

“Whoa, that was,” she says, and a burp erupts from her mouth, “intense.” She sways a little bit to the left before righting herself, and then overcompensates to lean to the left again. 

“Easy there, champ. We’ve got two more bottles to go through.” You pour another shot for each of you, hers first and then yours, and raise your glass once more.

“Open the chips now,” you tell her. “This’ll be less dreadful with food.” 

Both of you down your shots at the same time, and Nayeon reels at the sensation once more. 

“Does that get easier?” Her speech is slowly starting to slur, the poor thing. “I’m kinda feeling a little something right now, too…”

“Yes, but only if you keep going at it, idiot. Don’t down everything so quickly.” Grab one of the bags of chips yourself, open and present it to Nayeon on the center of the table.

“Eat. You’ll hate this less.” You take a handful of chips and bring all of them into your mouth. Once you do, you raise your eyebrow at her to tell her to do the same.

“Isn’t… *hic* being hungry the thing for… faster drunk?” 

“Apparently so, Nayeon. I don’t even know what I expected from you.” You take another shot, alone this time. She tries to pour her own shot, but fails miserably at getting the liquid anywhere near the inside of her shot glass. It’s adorable how she tries, though.

You pour her another shot despite a small voice telling you maybe she isn’t cut out for this much in such a short time. You shove the voice aside in favor of Nayeon’s own words: “We pregame, drink a little, and then we go. Party starts at 7:30, so we leave here by 7 o’clock.” Her shot glass fills with the drink, and you place it in front of her, making sure at least to keep an eye out for what might happen next. 

She successfully picks up the glass and, sans the spills she made on the glass's way from the table to her mouth, drinks everything she could. She slams the glass onto the table in no light movement and you have a slight inkling of regret at letting her do that to herself. 

“You… We have to… Fuck.” Nayeon’s head droops and she catches her face with her hands. She may have underestimated how strong soju is, or maybe what being drunk actually does to a person. A groan emanates from behind her palms, and you notice she’s having trouble holding herself up. 

“Aren’t we going out after this? You might wanna slow down, idiot.” You pour yourself another shot and drink it leisurely. Nayeon tries leaning back onto the chair, and she finally pries her hands away from her eyes. She does a few quick blinks, and she tries to focus her sight on you. Her head sways a little bit, and it dawns on you that you may have overestimated her. 

“I’m okay… just… we have to go.” She tries to stand up, but she wobbles dangerously and you have to catch her. Dive under her and take on her weight, thankfully not too heavy, and keep her from hitting the floor. She mumbles a bit about something you can only kind of understand, but it's enough to guide your next decision.

“Forget it,” you grunt as you plop her back into her chair, “we're not going anywhere.” An exasperated sigh leaves your lungs, and you head off to the kitchen to return with a large bottle of cold water.

“No… we have to go. We'll be late.” Nayeon tries to get up again, but there's no strength left in her body. She sits motionlessly, probably thinking that she's already stood up, and it gives way to a confused look on her face as to why she's still in the same place.

You fill a proper-sized glass with water and hand it to her, which she drinks obediently. You fill her palm with potato chips which she also eats without objection. The way her jaw moves, clumsy and slow, signals a threat that she might just fall over any minute.

You move your chair to her side and sit there, allowing Nayeon to lean her head on you. Her hair covers her reddening face, and her hiccups arrive in growing force.

“If you're still in there, Nayeon,” you say quietly, “we're not going out. I can't look after you this closely at a party.” All she does to respond is nod. Her hiccups are punctuated intermittently with sniffles, which you take as a sign that she knows she has no power left to object. 

Still, you feel bad for her as her plans fall through. Despite the responsible thing to do, put her to bed and leave, you kick yourself mentally before deciding to stay anyway.

“Movies and snacks?”

~-~-~-~

Before you know it, the night goes by just as quick. You go through the list of movies she’d always wanted to watch: The Truman Show, The Great Gatsby, Mean Girls, and even then there’s still a few left on her list. You could tell she was watching properly halfway through the first, and that was the telltale sign that she’d sobered up. 

You drink a bit more with her in between movies, and she would frequently pause to get up and put on a song to dance to. “It keeps me awake,” she said, “I can’t fall asleep before the good part happens.” The songs she put on are generic pop and the kinds you skip whenever they come up, but you let it pass for tonight.

At some point, she pulls out an old Wii and challenges you to Mario Kart. “I am undefeated in this game. I’m not even that good, everyone else that challenged me just sucked.” You take her up on her offer, and the match begins. You try and almost get ahead of her in a few of the turns, but she would always take back her lead at the slightest opportunity of you hitting a wall or missing an item. And the way she glows with pride every single time she crosses the finish line before you do, the sudden brightness that fills her face when she wins race after race, the confidence it gives her that she isn’t actually the worst person in the world, all of it is a sight to behold. People may see Kwon Nayeon as an arrogant goody-two-shoes traitor, but the way you see her now is different: just someone with a past to outgrow. 

Right as the last movie’s credits start rolling, mischievous thin rays of dawn sunlight slip past the tiny gaps in the curtains. Both you and Nayeon have little energy left for anything else, and you maybe think it’s time to call it a night and go home.

“Let me walk you out,” she says while trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes for a little bit longer. You both get up and walk to the door, and as it opens your faces are flooded with a world right before it wakes. Dewdrops sit respectfully on leaves and blades of grass, birds are only starting to stretch their wings, and the crisp morning air fills your lungs with a calm grace. 

You turn back to Nayeon, who you find is still admiring the dawn, and grasp her elbow. “Sit with me.” 

You both squat down and take your seats again on her doorstep. Clouds roll in and dot the sky, wandering on the blank canvas of today, eagerly waiting for sunlight to block out. The sun peeks over the horizon and the first proper rays start to arrive, spreading warmth where they land. Nayeon meets your eyes one last time, and the pair of you find a sleepy and still a bit drunk person when you look at each other.

“Well,” you say as if it was a farewell, “good night, Nayeon. And good morning.”

“Good night,” she giggles back, “and good morning to you too.”

3. Sneak into a Public Pool

“Are you sure about this?” Nana’s tone is subdued by fear. Her voice shakes and struggles to be as quiet as possible, but at the same time you get the feeling that if you didn’t need to be quiet, she’d be yelling right now and trying to get the both of you to leave.

“Can you please shut up? I’m trying to focus!” You find the first of the pins and push it out of the way. For a moment, you lament how restricted you are: this could have been such a simple lock to break, replace even, but the girl dragging you around was deathly insistent on leaving as little damage and evidence as possible. 

“You shut up! I'm whispering here!” Anger rises in her voice, and you almost feel anger in yours too. You're able to stop it though, and you remind yourself that if ever a guard was on watch that actually cared about this place, they'd be easily outrun.

The lock presents more of a challenge than you thought; despite the agonizingly simple solution of snapping its shackle, its inner mechanisms are harder to crack for whatever reason. Taking it pin by pin is supposed to be an easy task, but the warm and humid air and the incessant nagging seem to debilitate you. It’s such a nice night out for a swim, why make this any harder than it needs to be?

After what seemed like eternity you finally manage to pick the lock, sighing in relief as the both of you head forward quietly, but cautiously looking side to side just in case. The metal-grate door swings open slowly, avoiding any creaking sounds it may make otherwise, and the both of you enter the pool area.

“I gotta say Nayeon, this went better than I thought it would,” you say, both of you looking at the rectangular box of water which unlike during the day, was completely still, no waves, no splashes, just the water. It glistened and reflected all manner of light: the pool lights above and below the water, the yellow street lamps far off on the sidewalk, and the moon overhead, singing tones of wonder and mystery to those touched by its borrowed glow.

Off to the side, you find Nayeon fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Her head whips round incessantly as she tries to keep a lookout of the surroundings rather poorly. Sigh a deep one, and finally go over and take your seat next to her. 

“Thanks… gimme a sec.” She finally grabs the hem decisively. The fabric crumples a bit under her grip and folds as it's pulled up.

You can’t help but watch as the shirt starts to leave her body, revealing a slim and toned tummy underneath. Your breath hitches as it crawls higher, reaching her face and obscuring her sight, and she inadvertently shows off a dark purple sports bra that’s… a size too small. Your gaze lingers on her cleavage and the flesh of her boobs lightly spilling out of the garment.

Nana turns around and you’re treated with the view of a beautiful back and shoulders to die for. The way her body twists and turns in the slightest ways to negotiate the shirt off of her form is the most sensual dance you’ve ever seen.

And you realize you’re staring. Fortunately for you, she doesn’t seem to notice, and she continues on to fold the shirt properly before setting it next to her sports bag. You opt not to risk staring any longer, and you decide to get rid of your own shirt. You strip quickly, and your shirt flies off approximately near Nayeon’s things in a messy pile by itself.

Sit on the edge of the pool, dip your feet into the water. There’s absolutely no reason for it to be this warm, you think, but whatever the case may be, it feels like a tea that’s just about to go cold. This, coupled with the humid air and quiet atmosphere, makes for a perfect night to spend on whatever this is with her. 

She joins you and takes her seat at the edge of the pool, and in every other situation, you’d ask her to back off a bit. Instead, as she lays her head on your shoulder and takes your hand in between hers, you lose your steel in the most important of times. 

“I’m scared.” Her eyes never leave the water, taking in the light dancing on its surface. Her face is fraught with worry, and while you know it’s for no good reason, you nevertheless try to reassure her.

“Yeah, someone might jump out of the bushes and arrest us for swimming in a swimming pool,” you say mockingly. “They’re gonna take us to court on the charges of ‘using something the way it was meant to be used’ and we’re gonna get life sentences. When we’re all old and wrinkly they’re gonna sit us in the electric chair.”

“Okay, I get your point. But still, though, I’m scared.” She grips your hand tighter, and for some reason you can’t resist her. Place your other hand over hers and try to calm her down. Nana takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, and finally looks at you with a reserved grin.

“Alright, I’m good. Let’s go.” 

You feel her hand on your back, and warmth spreads from her palm. Her smile grows just a bit wider and her eyes follow suit. Her teeth show themselves from between her lips, and you’re almost tempted to dive right in. 

Lucky for you, she helps. The hand on her back suddenly applies more pressure, pushing you to the pool and causing a splash going all directions. Collect your thoughts and raise your head above the water to see Nana, face full of laughter, right before she dives in the water with you.

It takes a second, but her head resurfaces and you find yourself relieved. She catches her breath once more, and before you know it, you're met with a faceful of chlorinated water. “What are you staring at?” She says between hearty laughs. 

Wipe the water from your face, find the humor. Laugh with her, and face her properly.

Another shade of Kwon Nayeon. Granted, it's one with no makeup and way less clothes than usual, but none of that takes away from her natural, elegant beauty. It's captivating, the way her figure glides around the water, the way the cool night air wisps around the pair of you, the way the moon throws its rays around the world, your world, so haphazardly. 

Another faceful of water, and you snap out of your daze. “Creepy ass,” she snorts happily. She splashes you again, and this time you fight back. 

“Race you around the pool.” You start paddling, and the water grows loud against your ears. She says something back to you and starts paddling herself to catch up.

“Yeah,” you think to yourself, “whatever this is with her.”

4. Sing in an Open Mic

“Another night, another goal,” you muse, sitting in your car with Nayeon in the passenger seat. It has become quite a routine that every time she wants to do something on her bucket list she asks you to pick her up. You don’t mind too much — she pays for gas after all. 

“Where do we go this time?” Nayeon just shoves her phone in your face, showing a map with directions to some bar out of town. She looks at you expectantly, but without any more information than what you’re currently getting, you’re at a loss for what she’s trying to make you see.

“A club.”

“Exactly.”

“We already did ‘get drunk.’”

“I know. This is different.”

“How so?”

“Take me here. Make me sing. Take me home.”

The pieces connect in her head and she pulls out the notebook again. She flips to a page you again haven’t seen, and when she shows it to you you’re treated to the sight of “Open Mic Stage” in graffiti-style letters and the poster of “Wedding Singer” scrawled in the bottom right corner of the page. 

“If you have the map, why not just do this yourself? You didn’t need to wait for me. If anything, I’d only laugh at how bad you might be.” You push away her phone and notebook, choosing to return your attention to the sidewalk instead. The boba tea place you keep hearing about is nearby. 

“That’s the thing,” Nayeon interjects again, “I have been there before. I listened to all the people singing, and they’re… some are good. I don’t know if I am, but I got shy at the last minute and I never even got near the stage.” She grabs your sleeve and your attention. “I need you to make me sing. Don’t let me chicken out.”

You shrug, “Sure, let's do it.”

~-~-~-~

Taking up two seats at the bar, you try and seem to fail at helping Nayeon calm down. Her guitar rests against the bartop beside her while she fans herself hurriedly with her hand. “It’s so nerve-racking… I knew this was a mistake,” she adds before turning back and trying to leave the place, however, you stop her in her tracks

“Come on, you worked so hard for this,” you say, recalling the number of recordings she sent you: one for each take she was doing. “You can do this,” you continue reassuring her, knowing she’s more ready than ever. At the same time, you could see your friend get more nervous by the second, now taking more sips of her water bottle.

“But what if I miss a chord, or I sing badly? Everyone will laugh at my mist–'' You know at this point she’ll only spiral to worse and worse thoughts, so you nip it in the bud and stop her right there. You take both her shoulders in your hands, making Nayeon stop her nervous rambling, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink.

“I believe in you, Nana. just take a deep breath.” You stop to let her do as you say, taking a deep breath in and slowly breathing it out. The tension leaves her with each breath she takes, and you find a moment to keep her stable. “Good, I am sitting right here, not leaving for any reason, so if you feel nervous, just find me. Look at me.” Her gaze softens at your promise, and her lips form a tiny smile in response to your words. 

Hearing the current open mic singer finishing up his song, you send her off with some final words. “Your turn now, Nana. Break a fucking leg.” You leave her shoulders as her smile slowly starts to grow.

You watch her heading toward the stage, taking her guitar out of the cover, and taking her seat on the chair in front of the mic. “Hey,” she starts, “I am Nayeon… and I’m gonna sing Spring Day by BTS… I, uhh, hope you enjoy.”

She takes one last deep breath as you find her gaze on you. You return a reassuring smile, and Nayeon’s eyes fly back to her guitar. She strums her first chord, and the crowd’s welcoming applause rises.

“I’m missing you, when I say that I miss you more, I’m missing you…” Nayeon’s fingers strum the strings delicately, and it enchants you how graceful and in control she is of her instrument. The wood and metal of her guitar work together under her guidance to produce a beautiful sound, one you feel deep inside you'd never have heard the beauty of if not here, not now.

The way her lips move to articulate her words is heavenly, like she has you under a benevolent spell to bring you a rare sort of peace. It captivates you how she carries herself; behind her tough outer shell is a scared and confused layer, which hides a soft and optimistic core and wants to chase a brighter, happier future by cherishing the present. You marvel at your luck, that you were permitted to see so much of her, and how openly she welcomed you in when all she knew was aloneness and to shut people out. 

“Snowflakes falling from the sky, are drifting further by and by…” Her heavenly voice draws you in, and it commands your attention like it speaks directly to your soul. The sound of Nayeon tugs on your heartstrings, pulling you closer to its source, and you let yourself get whisked away.

And to its source you look; find a girl with courage like you’d never seen. See Kwon Nayeon in a different light than the harsh monotones of the classroom fluorescents, but in a spotlight that she takes up with everything in her soul. It’s a different shade of her: a shade of Nayeon that only you could comprehend, a part of her that only you had the privilege to understand.

“I breathe you out there somewhere, like smoke in the air…” The space grows warmer, like a hearth welcoming you home. Your surroundings quiet down as Nayeon pulls them deeper and deeper with her subconscious command: rest, lay down your worries and fly for the moment towards your peace. You look around, and every fellow face in the crowd you see has their eyes fixed on Nayeon’s performance; they’d never know it, but it’s the debut of a person coming into a whole new life free of regret and cowardice. It’s Nayeon building herself up from the rubble of a past that she aims to forget. 

“Flowers blooming towards the sky, has winter finally passed by?” The noise of the world seems to die down, as if just you and Nayeon are the only two things in existence. The pace of her strumming slows, as do the lyrics that escape her mouth. Every note she produces is deliberate, gentle, comforting, and for once you feel like you’re able to imagine a brighter tomorrow like her. 

With her. 

The song draws to a close, and she looks all over the crowd as they start to clap. You can't help but join in. Nayeon just bows lightly, and you can feel how happy she is that everything went well in her song. As she steps off the stage, you leave your spot and head toward her.

With both of you only a couple of steps apart, you chuckle lightly, “Well it wasn't so bad was—” You were stopped, caught off guard by your friend, dashing to you with open arms and crashing into your chest, wrapping her arms around you, and pulling you into an embrace. 

No words are spoken; both of you just stand there, hugging each other, her face nuzzling your chest as you could faintly feel her heartbeat. You were quite surprised with Nayeon being so open with you, since it was just a short time ago you made your promise to help. 

“Thank you…” she says, now releasing you from her embrace, noticing how her eyes shed small tears, that you couldn't figure out if they are tears of sadness, or happiness.

“... Always here for you Nayeon.”

“Please… call me Nana,” she says. She takes her notebook and crosses off another line from her bucket list, and as she walks toward the exit, you make way for the people coming by to greet her for the performance.

You can't help but wonder… has something changed after that performance?

5. Shoplifting

“Pick something already, it's not that hard,'' you remark impatiently while tapping your feet. Both of you are staring at the snack section of the local convenience store near your college, and Nana hovers her hand over the selection of snacks to look for the perfect one.

“Stop rushing me, I'm trying to choose which one will not get me caught,” she replies, still focused. The veteran petty thief in you groans, recalling your highschool days where nicking a cigarette or two (or ten) every once in a while gave you back huge chunks of your monthly budget. You miss the simplicity of it, and you once again find the restriction of being so careful more annoying than anything else. How come for Nayeon it is such a big struggle to steal one snack? You shoot the question up to whichever god might be listening, and you even half-expect an answer back. 

“You are thinking about it too much, the cashier is probably not gonna notice even if you stole something that made noise,” you add, tapping your foot rapidly, like you were some parent spending too long in the toy section.

“Well, please forgive me, oh thug master, it’s my fault that I never did that shit before!” Her whispers are loud enough for you to hear clearly, your less-than-welcoming attitude leading her to take a deep sigh.

“Fine, if you want to make it easier, do the buy one steal one method,” you explain. 

“The what?”

“Well to make it simpler than it already is, you dolt, you take two things, one you buy normally, and the other one you don't pay for,” you added as it seems to all make sense in Nayeon’s head. “Defeats the fucking purpose why we’re here, but really, the longer we spend here to leave with just four things, the more anyone will suspect us.”

Despite your best efforts to hurry her, they all seem to only make her take even longer. Her brow furrows deeper, as if trying to form lasers in her eyes to burn holes through the plastic wrappers. 

Your patience wears thinner by the moment, and you resolve to isolate before you lose it completely. “So if you’ll excuse me, I will get my shit and meet you outside,” you say, leaving her alone in the aisle.

As a promise to yourself not to shoplift anymore, you decide to buy just one pack of cigarettes. You light one of them as you lean against one of the store’s walls, watching the sun start to set. Find yourself sitting down, admiring the beauty of a day near its end, taking in the world around you.

Two cigarettes and fifteen minutes later, a small ding sounds from somewhere in the front of the store. It’s Nayeon, half-running out of the building, her face painted with worry as she finds and walks towards you.

“So, you did it?” A smile forms on Nayeon’s face as she takes her right hand to her jean’s pocket, revealing a small candy bar. She brandishes the candy around like a magic wand, as if trying to charm you into being proud of her. 

“Well… it's something,” you nod, while the two of you start towards her dormitory.

“Oh don’t say ‘it’s something’ when you didn't steal anything,” she exclaims. She holds the candy bar up against the setting sun, examining its entire wrapper. Now that you’re a considerable distance from the store, the worry on her face has been replaced completely by pride and excitement.

“Well I don’t shoplift anymore, the only reason I'm letting you do it is because you wanted the experience, which by the way,” you scoff, plucking the snack out of her hands, “all of that was for a chocolate bar.” This earns you a pretty strong punch on the shoulder, and the force loosens your grip on the snack enough for Nayeon to steal it back.

“Shut up,” she says, her cheeks seeming to grow a small shade of pink. She walks faster, leaving you no choice but to speed up as well.

6. Dye my Hair

“Do you think blonde hair will suit me?” Nana asks, holding the color card next to her face. You come in for a closer look, but as you stare you stop and wonder why you even did so in the first place. 

“Yeah… uhh yeah, I think it can suit you well.” You weren't an expert in hair styles and colors, so honestly unless it was a color that was actually hideous, everything was fair game.

Nana smiles at your response and picks out a box of blonde hair dye to add to her basket. You’re a bit nervous that she wants to dye it at home with you, but any attempts you made to convince her to see an actual stylist have been dismissed. “It’s easy,” she said, “there’s instructions on the box.”

“So, how was it?” You’re half-convinced that the bleach is eating through your rubber gloves, but you soldier on.

“Was what?” Nayeon checks herself out in the mini-vanity mirror in front of her. You have to swat her hands away from her head with your elbows, but apart from that she stays on her best behavior.

“You know,” you shrug, “this whole thing. The stealing, the swimming, the dyeing your hair.” You try to keep the bleach from dripping onto your arms, mostly aiming for the scattered sheets of newspaper the two of you prepared on the floor, but there’s only so much you can do. You just resolve to wash off any drops as quickly as possible. 

You get the feeling that she hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you did. The smile on her face dimmed the slightest it could before she could fix it. “It was… great! Stuff I’ll remember for the rest of my life, for sure.” 

Like some form of cosmic karma, she spots your involuntary grin in the mirror. “Good. That’s good.”

The color drains from her hair bit by bit as you apply the bleach carefully. You’re not sure how quickly you have to finish, but Nana seems not to mind. You gently stroke and rub the product through her hair, taking special care not to come into contact with her scalp too often, all the while she turns her head from side to side to admire the look she’s going to have soon. 

“You know…” she says suddenly, avoiding your eyes in the mirror, “this was really fun. I’m so happy I got to do all that stuff on my list.” Her smile changes: what was once a cheerful and optimistic smile just a few moments ago is now a wizened and melancholic one. “I mean it. Thank you for helping me.” 

She makes eye contact with you again in the mirror, and she flashes that smile to you once more. Her hair grows lighter with each passing second, and as her back relaxes and straightens, it seems that the weight of the world leaves her shoulders as well. She breathes more easily now, and despite the fumes the box says you should do your best not to inhale, you breathe easier too.

~-~-~-~ 

You’re sat back again on her sofa, and Nana tries her best not to mess with her hair that’s still soaking. She looks kind of silly, what with her old towel around her shoulders faded to near oblivion, her hair in sections making her look like a half-done scarecrow, her hands going up halfway to her head only to be forced back down by the other. 

And yet, you admire another shade of Nayeon. This time, it’s a girl who’s scared of the future, of changes she might regret later on. It’s something deep in her character, even central maybe, to be afraid of things she can’t take back. Even then, she takes her leaps and bounds to try and outrun her past, and finally, you see the razor edge that keeps everything in balance: Nayeon’s fear which dictates her present, and Nana’s strength which leads her to her future. 

“Hey,” you say abruptly, surprising even yourself, “you good?” 

“I think so. My head’s itchy. Is that supposed to happen? Should we wash it off?”

“No, jackass, it’ll look even worse if you quit halfway.” 

Your words set in and she realizes you’re right. Worry seeps into her face and you notice tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Look, this might not be comfy right now, but I promise it’ll be worth it later on.”

“Really? You promise it’ll look good?” She looks over to you with pleading, shiny eyes, and it almost hurts to tell her no.

“I said I promise it’ll be worth it. Not that it’ll look good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

You chuckle at the sudden rise in her voice. After all this time, she’s still Nayeon, still Nana. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It means… if you stick with it, there’s no way you’ll regret what we just did.”

7. You know…

The end of your senior year of college rolls around, and the graduation ceremony is still fresh in everyone’s minds. Photos of friends together and square caps thrown into the air decorate your social media feeds for a good few days, and you can’t deny the whole thing was something you wouldn’t forget for the rest of your life.

And finally, Nana’s bucket list has been finished. To think that all of it was done in the span of a college year is quite impressive to say the least, as before you started she was lost in her own goals and left sitting for a good three years. Now, looking at your diploma, it was not only a sign of your successful studies at college, for you it was also the sign of helping your dear friend get to where she wanted to be. 

Speaking of the devil, now sending you a message

On the way, you see various people from her dorm building heaving away bags and suitcases, undoubtedly taking advantage of the nice weather to move out. You see people hugging each other, taking selfies, exchanging numbers, and all the while you think of each of them with their own stories to tell when they get home, but none so interesting as the one you and Nana built together. 

The walk up the stairs was more of the same, people saying goodbye, and you can’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia. It was by no means a short year, but for everything you did, the feeling of wanting just a bit more time never seems to leave you. You recall the first time you saw her, that quiet girl in the front of the auditorium with four seats of clearance around her, and how you slowly watched her grow into the fine and confident woman she is now. Part of you is unbelievably proud of what she’s achieved, but another part of you knows it’s all her doing and you were only along for the ride. 

You reach Nana’s room just as her roommate was leaving, and you exchange pleasantries with her before she goes off. “Hey, just so you know, Nayeon’s a really nice girl,” she says in whispers to you, “I’m glad she found you before she left.” She pats you on the back before going off to the stairs herself. Something deep inside you glows in agreement, and you think to yourself how lucky you were to be able to meet and spend time with a person like her.

“Hey, come in!” Nana pushes you into her now half-empty room. “Yuri just left, so we have the place all to ourselves!” You take a seat on her easy chair while she plops herself down onto her bed. The half that still has stuff in it is simple and unassuming, and the realization dawns on you that this is the first time you’ve been in Nana’s room. Despite this, the space is warm and cozy, like it was filled with a good sort of energy for a long time. 

“Cheers” you both say at the same time, each with a can of beer that you both drink fairly quickly. You recall the first time of her drinking with you, how easily she felt her stomach hurting but this time she quickly shrugs off the bitter taste.

“You know,” Nana says, her eyes shining and her smile flashing itself directly at you, “I am really happy that you helped me with the bucket list, I couldn't do it without you.”

You simply laugh casually and say “Come on Nana, all you needed was confidence.”

“And who do you think gave me that confidence? I really mean it…thank you,” she says, and you can't help but smile at her back.

“Let me get some snacks, okay? Don’t move a muscle.” As she stands and heads toward the kitchen, you go to check up your phone to see what the time is. However, just as you are about to go into your Instagram, you notice something on the table: a little black notebook that’s only all too familiar. 

When you think about it, She has never shown you the actual list besides that one time when you two first talked. “A peek won't hurt right?” you say, the alcohol definitely makes the choice for you. Your sober self would never invade someone's privacy, especially not some as close as Nana’s, but regardless, you open it and…

You flip through the pages, and the notebook reveals so much more. The few pages you’ve been shown were just decorated pages, and each mission was a chapter, filled with dozens of writings, pictures, scribbles, each for its own topic. You find yourself smiling, muttering quietly to yourself: “You really worked hard on it… didn't you?” 

Your attention is snatched to Nana across the room, looking at you with cheeks fully red. You can't help but curse quietly, and you try to come up with something of an apology. However before you can finish your first word she says…

“Hey, come on, put that down!” Nana rushes toward you, nearly tossing the snacks off to some random part of the room, and snatches away the little black notebook from your hands. She hugs it close to her chest as she turns away, and she looks over her shoulder to peek if you might still be thinking about snatching the notebook back.

Instead, you raise your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Sorry. But what's there to hide? Aren't we done?” You take another sip of your drink before picking up one of the snacks. You open the bag of chips and place it on the table for the both of you. 

“Well… I had one other thing. I gave up on it a long time ago, just never ripped out the page.” Nana turns back toward you and fiddles with a leaf of the notebook. Her steps are careful when she gets nearer to you, as if cautious to scare you away. 

“What?!” You bolt to your feet in surprise, your drunkenness taking a backseat at the sudden exposition. “Shit, we gotta go now! What is it?”

“Calm down,” Nana mutters, her feet rubbing against the carpet, “it isn't something we can do anywhere else anyway. Or, I mean, it’s done? I don’t know…”

Your nerves are still flaring, but you get the feeling that whatever it is, there's nowhere else but where you are now that Nana could do the last bucket list thing. Your gaze steadies on her, and she looks like she wouldn't budge for the world. Her eyes never leave the floor, her hands stay guarded on the notebook, and for some reason, she's also able to keep you just where you are. 

“So… what is it, then?” 

“Promise me you won't get mad?”

“... Promise.”

Once she hears you say it, her eyes shut tight. As if gathering courage, she takes a deep breath before taking deliberate steps to where you're standing. You never see it coming, but the next thing you know, Nana's soft lips are on yours, her delicate fingers keep you steady in place, and her vanilla scent fills your nose and overwhelms your senses that you can't think of anything at all but her.

It takes only half a second, but you melt into the kiss yourself. Your eyes flutter closed and start to forget the world around you in favor of the girl who stayed by your side. The space between the two of you grows smaller, your hands make their way to her waist, and you let your selfishness take over and keep her for yourself as well. 

The kiss breaks just as you hold her, and both your eyes shoot open to find hers just as wide as yours. 

“I-I, umm… I’m sorry, it was too sudden, and uhh…” It wasn't too hard to see how much she was stuttering, and if you weren't so surprised yourself you would've also joined her like the blushing mess she is right now.

The alcohol was starting to hit you again, and your better judgment slowly left you as you took her lips once more. You have no time to be surprised at how willing she is, and you resolve to just enjoy the kiss with her. You lead her to the edge of the bed and sit her down; and the first chance she gets, she lies back onto the mattress and pulls you with her. 

“If you really wanna know…” She flips to the last page of the notebook and shows you. It’s a simple picture, just two stick figures in a heart, holding hands. You don’t recognize the poster, but the quote is unmistakable: “You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how.”

“I’m glad we got to spend all this time together, and I know I keep thanking you, but I really am so happy…” Nana pulls you back in, and with your own sweet defiance, you trace kisses across her cheek and onto her neck. The whimpers that escape her are adorable, but at the same time they also confirm thoughts you’ve only ever tried to suppress: she likes you too. 

You go lower and lower, tracing kisses from her neck to nibbling her collarbone, and you settle right before you reach her chest. Her breath hitches when she figures out what you want to do, but ultimately her fingers rake comfortingly through your hair.

“So tonight… let me show you… let me thank you… properly.” Her eyes may look pure when she says those words, but with how you are inches away from her lips, with how you have been kissing her now, it's anything but.

She slowly pulls off her jacket, her eyes never leaving you. The fabric slides off of her arms, revealing the smooth skin of her slender arms. The next to go is her tank top; her fingers grip the hem lightly, tugging slowly upwards, showing you her toned tummy and milky skin. The hem rises higher and higher, until she stops right under her chest. 

“Are you sure?” Your question is breathless, not in the slightest bit annoyed, but your tone full of concern reaches her. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know,” she says, the sound of her voice betraying a dry throat, “I love you.” She pulls the rest of her top off, and her boobs bounce freely in front of you. Nana takes your hands and places them on each, and asks you playfully, “Come on, you think I never caught you staring?”

She pulls you back in for a kiss, a proper one this time, the kind that quenches your thirst for her. She tries her best to wrap her tongue around yours, all the while you take your fill of her soft tits. Pinch and tweak her nipples, feel them stiffen as her tiny whimpers grow into careless moans. You never let up, delivering constant pleasure to her chest, and your surprise when you feel her palming your growing bulge is quickly replaced with anticipation. 

Her hand slips under your waistband and her moan fills your mouth when she feels how hot and hard your cock is for her. She wraps her fingers around your shaft and gives long, slow strokes, nothing that would make you cum on the spot, but just about enough to make you leak precum onto her palm. She relishes the feeling of your arousal on her skin, and as she picks up her pace, seemingly trying to entice you to do more, you’re left with no choice but to give her exactly what she wants. 

You work on unzipping your jeans and taking them off, and with Nana’s help, it feels like the second easiest job in the world. They fall to your ankles and you kick them away, and all of a sudden your cock rests on the skin of her luscious thigh. The heat and the precum that leaks onto her flesh surprises her, but her senses come back to her and she asks for a time out. 

“Gimme a sec, I have to breathe,” she gasps unsteadily. You get off her, wondering what you might have done wrong. Her breathing is ragged and she seems to not be able to focus on much else, but a reassuring look in her eyes lets you know she’s alright. 

“I just– I needed to see it.” Her gaze falls on your cock, and once she reaches and wraps her fingers around your shaft again, it throbs in her hand. A groan of pleasure escapes you, and she figures out that she’s doing something right. Her pumps start slow, gradually building up speed, all the while she brings her face closer and closer, and you don’t even notice it, but finally her lips meet the tip of your dick. Nana rubs your precum all over her lips like lipstick, and she takes your head in her mouth. 

Small groans come from your mouth feeling her soft lips, you enjoy much more than you thought, especially knowing how inexperienced you thought she was. Your hands meanwhile grab a part of hair, pulling it lightly, causing Nana to moan into your cock.

“Don't get mad if I do this wrong–” she says, her eyes fraught with worry. Despite this, she makes careful moves to give you the best possible experience. She seals her lips around your head, and she gives slow but deep sucks as she tries her hardest. 

“You’re– nngh– doing great,” you moan, the pleasure overtaking you. The eye contact you two share is enchanting; she’s undoubtedly a very pretty girl, and despite the amateur blowjob, she more than makes up for it with her enthusiasm. Her head bobs slightly, trying to take more of your length in, but her worry of choking keeps her from giving any more. 

On the other hand, she has no idea of the effect she has on you, and the sight of the gorgeous woman’s plump lips on your cock coupled with her eager attempts at making you feel good nearly sends you over the edge early. In an effort to stave off your orgasm for even just a little while longer, you regrettably pull her off of you. 

“What– what’s wrong? Wasn’t it good?” Again her words are coated with worry of disappointing you, but the way you look tenderly to her reassures her. 

“You are perfect, Nana,” you whisper into her ear. You lay her back onto the bed gently, and you let show your eagerness to please her too. You venture down until you’re level with her crotch, and you work slowly to peel off her thin shorts. As they leave her legs, you’re presented with a pastel blue pair of panties, though you can’t help but notice the growing wet spot right in the center and the scent of her arousal seeping through. It must be uncomfy, you think, and you strip it off of her as well. 

The garment leaves her and you look to Nana for approval: her finger between her teeth and her face red as a tomato, she looks at you with a loving gaze. Only then do you realize that Nana is now fully naked, everything bare for you and you alone, and the way her thighs rub together needily sends the message you’ve been dying to get. 

Part her legs, meeting little resistance as you do. Travel up from her knees to her thighs, planting kisses and light nibbles on the soft flesh of her legs. Hearing how she whimpers beneath your lips: “That feels really good… I want more…” 

Your lips finally meet her pussy, and the initial contact draws out a sultry moan from her. Each swipe of your tongue on her cunt causes more and more of her love juices to leak out, sending waves of ecstasy up her spine. She tries locking your head in place as she runs her fingers through your hair, all the while she grinds her crotch on your face as she chases her pleasure. 

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, you feel so good! I love you~!” Nana humps your face more and more roughly, and you take it as a sign that she’s close. Good thing as well, as you’re running out of air, but on the other hand you feel as though this wouldn't be the worst way to go. You run your tongue over her soaked pussy, taking slow, deep licks. 

She’s inching closer to her orgasm, her hips are bucking onto your mouth, your tongue meets her clit, she squeezes your head between her thighs, your lips seal around her swollen nub, she grabs your hair and pulls hard, and with a scream ripping through her throat, Nana squirts her love juices straight into your waiting mouth as you drink her essence up. Her scream turns into a drawn-out moan as she continues to grind on your face, making sure to pleasure herself enough to give you everything you’ve been working so hard for, and you lap every single drop of it up like it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. 

She releases her grip on your hair and head, and as she relaxes onto the bed her arms fall to the sides and her legs spread open. She lazily brings a hand to her pussy and rubs it, showing you just how good you made her feel, and she smiles up at you. 

“That was fucking amazing.” It couldn’t have sounded any sweeter, and the fact that it came from Nana, lying on her bed wearing nothing but a smile that you gave her, fills you with a sort of pride that you doubt you’d ever get again anywhere else in your life. But as she starts to get up, and she places her lips on yours, you feel another weight lifted off your chest. It’s another shade of her, one that shows you how she is when she’s content. It’s her way of telling you that among the hundreds of firsts she’s had in her life, she’s grateful that you were this one too. And as you kiss back, your hands finding their way to her hips, you connect with her again on a level that you never put into words before. “I love you too, Nana.”

Upon hearing, her kiss deepens and her tongue works harder to play with yours. She leans on you more, until finally you let yourself fall backwards, and Nana is right there, straddling you, with an innocent yet horny look in her eyes again.

“Your turn. Relax, okay?” She caresses your cheek, and suddenly you’re made conscious of how bad you’re probably blushing right now. Despite this, her smile never leaves her face as she continues to reassure you. She giggles at whatever expression it is that you’re showing her, and she gets to work. 

Nana reaches to her bedside table and opens a drawer, and from it she produces a peculiar box. “Remember when I ‘stole’ that candy bar?” She tears off the sticker on the edge of the box to open it, pulls out a little plastic square pouch, and tears it open with her teeth. “I… bought… the candy bar. This was what I stole.” She tugs on the contents of the pouch, and reveals a condom. 

“What the–” you start, but you soon stop in favor of moans caused by Nana’s handjob. “Don’t ever belittle me like that again, okay?” Her smile is again just as sweet and innocent as the first time you saw it, but now is completely different. It never leaves her face as she pulls the rubber over your cock, but not before giving it a few more cursory licks.

“Ready?” she asks, and you nod furiously. Finally, she aims the tip of your cock at her entrance and slowly sinks down onto you. “Oh, fuck, it’s so big,” she gasps. She takes her time taking in your length, feeling every vein against her pussy walls as you enter her tight pussy. She sucks air in through her teeth, her eyes shut tight, her fingernails leaving imprints on your chest as more and more of you slides into her unbelievably tight cunt. As she does, you feel her wet velvet walls rub your cock inside her, her slick spreading all over you and coating you with a warm you can’t describe. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, she finally hilts, having taken everything inside her, and she sits on your crotch without moving, still trying to get used to the feeling of her pussy being so full. 

“You good?” you ask, genuinely concerned if she’s okay or not. Place a hand on her waist, pat to comfort her. Her eyes open slowly, almost releasing a tear, and panic rises in your chest. 

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, do you need to get off? I–” you start, but she shuts you up with another kiss. It’s slow and gentle as it starts, just simple pecks, as she reassures you once again that she’s alright. Once she pulls away, she flashes you another smile, and you swear she gets more and more beautiful with each and every one. 

“I’m okay. Are you okay?” She traces circles on your cheek and neck, and all you could do is nod. She comes back in for another kiss, and this time it’s much deeper. She opens her mouth to moan, and you jump at the opportunity to swipe at her tongue too. She loves it, and once she’s comfy enough, she starts to hump against you as well.

“It’s really really good. Do you feel good?” Her question snaps you out of your daze, but you only nod as you fight off cumming too early. Not long after that, you note she’s had her fill as she pulls away from you. Her posture straightens and she sits on you properly again, this time determined to return the favor and blow your mind. She takes in a deep breath, braces herself, and lifts herself up carefully. Your breath hitches, watching her naked figure on top of you, and you admire the way her sweat collects in drops before they slide down between her breasts. She notices you staring again, and she brings your hands up to her chest, moaning at the first moment of contact. Your instincts overtake you; you push yourself off the bed to her boobs and start to suck. Your lips seal around her nipples and she runs her fingers through your hair as she tries to push you deeper into her delicious breast. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” Nana pleads, and you continue kneading the flesh of her boobs more, sucking when and where you can. At that moment, she forces herself back down onto your dick, taking in everything again all at once. Her walls part suddenly, and once she settles her warm pussy walls squeeze your cock as tight as she can. She begins bouncing, her moans never stopping, and you find a rhythm: each time Nana brings herself down, you thrust up to meet her halfway. The first time you do, you reach a depth to her that neither of you thought was possible, and the heat from her sex with her slick drive the pair of you insane with pleasure. 

She keeps bouncing on your cock as her lewd moans gradually grow louder and louder with each of your thrusts into her needy core. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her pussy tightens again, and just as you deliver a perfectly-timed bite to her nipple, another scream rakes out of her throat as her second orgasm overtakes her. Her pussy convulses as her hips buck again and again on your cock, her thighs and tits jiggle seductively, and her tightness reaches new heights as if she wants to keep your cock inside her forever. Despite this, you never stop thrusting her, never stop making love to her, and you cover her chest in kisses while you lick up all her sweat. 

You never give her a chance to catch her breath, and soon enough, an unknowable number of seconds or minutes past, you feel your own orgasm coming. You take one last look at her godly figure and divine visuals, and you finally succumb.

Hold her close, hold her tight. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want you getting away, so you only return the desire. Keep thrusting into her, forget about how she’s losing her mind. She’s gone, lost in her own pleasure, and there’s no point in bringing her back yourself. Instead, follow her. Send yourself over the edge and join her in her ecstasy.

You momentarily lose your flow of consciousness as flashes of white fill your eyes, but you’re snapped back to reality with Nana pulling at your hair. Only then do you realize; you’re actually cumming inside her. With each spurt, you thrust into her as your cock twitches against her slick walls. The cumulative heat from your cum sends just the right signals to Nana’s body, and it sends back the equivalent of screams of desperation at the illusion of breeding. Your pumps are harsh and careless – thank the stars you’re wearing a condom – but Nana is too far lost to care past the unholy pleasure you deliver to her. 

“Fuck, fuck! Aaaahhh!!!!” You feel her tighter, as if clamping down on your cock, her cunt pulsating and the connection between the two of you growing wetter, slicker. Despite this, you never let up, hell-bent on giving her everything you have. One spurt turns into two, then four, then six. It didn’t matter, none of it did. It could have been the end of the world and you wouldn’t have minded. All that was important was the girl sitting on your lap, losing her mind.

As both of your orgasms die down, the pair of you fall to the mattress. You stare at each other, wide-eyed and out of breath, and all you can do is smile and giggle at each other. As each of you catch your breath, the world quiets down, and all that’s left in existence is just you and Nana. 

“Wow,” she sighs, “nice.” Her smile grows wide again, and her hand once more finds your cheek to caress.

“Yeah, nice.” You laugh back at her, the adrenaline fading quickly. “Does that check the thing off your list?”

“Oh, yeah!” Nana jolts up and off the bed, or at least attempts to. Instead, she falls back next to you, and only then do you realize the fatigue rendering your bodies useless. 

“So… we good?” There’s nowhere else to look but right to her. Nana’s beautiful, round, just a bit teary eyes gaze back at you with adoration and love, something you never thought you’d have for yourself in this magnitude. And yet, here you are, and here she is, as if nothing else mattered. 

“Shit. That was crazy. Anyway, yeah. Thanks.” With her last ounce of strength, she comes in for one more kiss. She collapses in your arms, cuddled right up to your chest, and you can imagine she could hear how loud your heart was thumping, just like hers. 

Catch her snoring an adorable snore, wrap her in an embrace that would protect her from the worst the world could throw at her. A small thought in your head says you want to keep her safe forever like this, but you know better: she’s a strong woman who can take care of herself. Think back to how lucky you are, and how you walked this journey with her. Recall how she was just a fearful nobody when you first met, remember how you watched her grow into the amazing person she is now. 

Your eyelids grow heavy, and you realize your waking seconds left are numbered. Right before you drift off to sleep yourself, you hear her, in the tiniest voice ever, mumbling her confession: “Stay with me.”

“Go to sleep, Nana.” You smile and turn your head toward hers, arms wrapped around her waist. 

“Not without a promise.” Her own eyes are half-lidded, and you can tell she’s fighting back her drowsiness as hard as she can. She tries blinking the sleep away, but it only works marginally.

You could say anything to her at all right now, anything in the world, but there’s really only two things that need to be put into words. Your mind rushes at a snail’s pace, and you reach for faraway ideas when the right one is just in front of you. In your mind only one question appears: “So is this like…a one time thing?” 

In response Nana just leans in and kisses your cheek, then giggles. “Would me saying ‘I love you’ outside of sex prove it?” she asks playfully, her tone betraying her desire for rest.

“Touché.” One hand goes to her soft blonde hair, brushing it to the side. “But in my defence, suddenly kissing me and then getting me naked was not the first thing I expected when you said there was ‘one last thing’ in your bucket list,” you state matter-of-factly.

You share a bout of tired laughter for a moment, and then you both look at each other with pure eyes, as if you two compete to see who can make the other blush first. Decidedly, Nana loses while she confesses. “I used to think that college was supposed to be all rose-colored, that it was to be the peak of my life. But spending it with you, I learned that it doesn’t have to be all grand milestones to live through.” The air in the room swirls differently, replacing stale breaths with new ones from the open window. 

“That time you cheered me on during the open mic, how you looked at me… It made me realise that after everything’s said and done, I wanted peace. And I can feel peace with you, without all the guilt of past mistakes, nor ghosts of regret that would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life,” she says, now leaning toward your ear muttering, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, smiling from ear to ear. Eventually you both released the hug. Look around her room for your clothes, which was surprisingly hard for how your sex wasn't too feral, and in turns take showers to clean yourselves up.

As you get out of the shower, fully cleaned and with some good-enough-for-sleep clothes, you find Nana on her bed fully knocked out. You simply laugh and join her, and her instinct leads her to wrap her arms around your waist while her head leans into your chest.

“Goodnight, Nana,” you whisper with finality, as if ending the night on a perfect note. Peck her forehead and close your own eyes, and fall into slumber just as deep as hers.

Bucket List Completed

“Argh, I’m so excited!” She grips you by your collar and shakes you as she screams, jolting away any sleep you wished to get. 

Two months have come and gone, and while you know it hasn’t been long, things have changed so much. Despite you trying to get just a bit more sleep in the backseat of the taxi, Nana right next to you can’t stop bouncing in hers as the sights outside the window pass her by.

“Okay, okay. Just get all this energy out before we get on the plane, please?”

She returns her attention to the window just as the taxi slows to a halt. Your new girlfriend practically throws open the door and leaps out, heading straight for the trunk to retrieve your luggage. 

“Hurry up! We might miss our flight!” She struggles lifting her comically large suitcase before you hear it hits the concrete pavement followed by its handle extending with its clack-clack-clack. 

“Hawaii isn’t going anywhere, Nana, please,” you mutter as you lazily exit the cab. You hand the driver your fare, and he reaches out to accept. As he does, he gives you a knowing smirk and tips his hat to you, as if saying “good luck.”

Turning around, you find Nana with all of your luggage too, eagerly awaiting your arm for her to cling to before you make your way inside. The hustle and bustle of Incheon International Airport fills her with a deep sense of excitement, and honestly, who could blame her? Your girlfriend is in the midst of all these other people — travelers, tourists, adventurers — and she fits right in. It’s the most natural thing for her now, to find herself in new situations that broaden her horizons and make her feel alive. 

She yanks you to her side in line for the desk, holding her brand-new polaroid camera at a high angle. “Cheese!” she screams, not far enough from your ear, but with how happy she is, you can’t help but smile her smile too. “Our first overseas trip! This is the first time I’m leaving Seoul, let alone Korea!” 

“Okay, Nana, calm down,” you chuckle, but you know she won’t. Divert her attention instead, put her energy to good use. “Do you have your passport? Carry on? Pink notebook?”

Though you both are sure she hasn’t missed anything, Nana rummages through her bag again anyway. “Check, check, and check! How could I forget?” She takes each item to show to you, and she flips through the pink notebook once it’s in her hand.

One thing about Nana, she never lets the moment escape her anymore. Once she sets out to do something, she’ll do everything in her power to accomplish that goal. This is no different, and you love her so much for it.

After looking through the notebook, she claps it shut. She flashes you the drawing of a gray bucket on its front cover before it disappears back into her carry on, and you both are reminded that a part of who you are as a couple is just that: a notebook that predicts the future by rooting itself in the present. Sadly, a weeklong trip won’t be enough for everything on her list this time, but who’s to say you’re not coming back eventually? 

And at the end of the trip, you have it ready, the best gift you could give her: a little green notebook, every left-side page filled with things you want to do, and the corresponding right side page blank, all for her. And on the very last leaf, where the cardboard of the back cover accompanies it, is a drawing of a ring, with the words: “I’ll be taking my time, spending my life, falling deeper in love with you.”

“Come on, hurry!” She yanks again, snapping you out of your wistful thoughts. “We’re gonna miss the plane!” Nana pulls you to the gate just as the intercom announces your flight has begun boarding. “Alright, alright! Easy,” you chuckle again, and you can’t believe this is the same girl behind the gym crying her eyes out alone just last year. Funny how people change like that, but at the same time, it’s impossible to think that Nana would ever stay the same.

================================================

Thank you all for watching, it has been a long time working on it and we are really happy it is finally out, hope yall had a good read with this one,

i will see you all next time leafies~

[epiphainie]

why do you think bucktommy has been "hitting differently"? i love them don't get me wrong, but i don't think it's been written much differently than buck's previous love interests (yet)

Hi anon, 

I don't think I agree with you there. Well, first of all I think talking about all of Buck's previous romantic relationships as one thing is doing injustice to those different arcs and Buck's character journey. All served different purposes, all were written differently from each other. When I make the distinction that BuckTommy has been "hitting differently" what I mean is that it has what worked in those previous relationships as well as what was lacking. And I think the reason is twofold: the writers being intentional with their choices and how it's all been executed. 

Intention:

Just to be clear, I don't mean anyone has had endgame BuckTommy intentions. Tim has been very clear about how he doesn't plan that far ahead and it's hard to talk endgames with a procedural format like this. But we know they wrote the bi Buck arc with more care, hence being more intentional with their choices than some of his previous relationships. We know that their first kiss had taken multiple shapes before it ended up being this gentle, surprising but still mutual kiss. We know that they wanted to create a story where Buck felt connected to this guy but also safe and light. We know that they wanted to make Tommy a character who can be understanding and lead Buck as he stumbles. We know that Tim thought Lou's buy was important because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake of creating a LI who didn't fit with the rest of the cast etc.

Now you can say some of these fit previous LIs one way or another but it brings me to execution:

Many people talked about this before me, obviously, but I think the execution of everything they planned with Tommy has been great. I mean before their first kiss, this guy goes out of his way and shows up at Buck's to "clean the air" with this virtual stranger because he believes he caused bad blood between him and his friend. Not just that, he reassures Buck about his place in his friend's life and apologizes for making him feel excluded. Now as the audience we know Buck is the kid who'd get hurt on purpose so his dad would pay him attention, he's the guy who sued the fire department because he felt pushed out and isolated, but Tommy doesn't. I think an LI addressing one of Buck's core insecurities in such a direct and reassuring manner before even knowing him is a great way to set up why Buck would feel safe with and understood by him.

Another is that Tommy immediately meets Buck at that vulnerable place when he admits to being jealous of the 118's bond and Buck reassures him back. This for example, is something Abby had done with Buck imo but Buck back then didn't know himself enough to embrace his own insecurities and at a maturity level to address Abby's despite his best intentions. With Taylor, their whole issue was that they couldn't be honest and vulnerable with each other. BuckTommy in this aspect feels different because from the get-go as they're being honest and are on the same frequency when it comes to this.

Episode five, we see them on their failing date, then we see Buck being nervous that he fucked it up in the coffee scene. We've seen this Buck before, when he got into that anxious mode to make sure Abby knew he wasn't cheating on her. Obviously, the context and the stage of the relationship are very different and they both reassure Buck about it not being his fault. Great on both Tommy and Abby.

But then, the immediate follow-up in Abby's case is that she's leaving for abroad. I don't think Abby is being evil or mean with this decision (where I have a problem with is when she starts ghosting him and doesn't just end it, but that's another topic) but again knowing what we know about Buck as the audience, we know this is a big deal. We know this - and later Ali leaving - adds on his issues of feeling like he's not worth it, we know it leads to him basically trapping Taylor because he's so afraid she'll leave. Again, Tommy doesn't. But Tommy gives him a second chance and then shows up at the wedding.

You can say showing up on one date is not proof that Tommy will always be there for Buck, but I think the execution is so good in painting Tommy as very reliable concerning this. Because Tommy doesn't just show up. If the writers' only concern was to write Tommy out of the A plot of episode 6, he could just come to the ceremony and be like "my shift just ended". No, Tommy says he'll try his damnest to make it to the wedding and then he enters the hospital all rushed, haphazard, covered in soot, hair a mess. The dramatique of that entrance immediately validates in the audiences' mind that yeah this is a guy who will do his damnest to be there for Buck. It, again, addresses a core insecurity of Buck's.

Back half of the season doesn't do anything different but we again see Tommy notice Buck's emotional state, meet him in that vulnerable place, and also match his flirty vibe. They're comfortable; it feels earned even in such a short span because of the well execution of their initial arc. This to me what Buck said about Natalia when they thought the show wasn't coming back (and before that relationship was recontextualized as being a dud), about how he feels seen and comfortable etc. Only this time, there's intention, effort, and execution.

One final note in execution - and this is very ymmv because I've seen even from some BuckTommys that they wished they did this differently - I genuinely love how little BuckTommy there is in 7x03. More specifically, I love that Tommy's reintroduction to the series is not through being Buck's potential love interest. He's there in that episode for Hen, Chim, and Bobby. In 10 mins screentime he's quickly established with motives and personality quirks, is involved in the main plot, bounces off of other characters. Again, great execution of a thing Tim intended to do: a love interest who can fill more roles than just the love interest. This basically makes him in his own category in how purposeful and functional he can be as a character in the greater narrative. So yeah I think both as a person in-story and a character, Tommy has been hitting different.

[dr-spectre]

I wanna say one final thing about the Marina stuff that went down.

Seeing all the cool fan art that has sprouted due to what has been going on and people sharing their love and passion for Marina is absolutely incredible and reminds me of the importance of the character.

Marina as a character speaks to such a wide range of people and i think it's incredibly sweet and powerful stuff. This character and the culture she embodies is important to a ton of people and as a community, we should NEVER... EVERRRRR forget that!!!!

Marina is my second favourite Idol, i find a lot of relatablity in her despite my appearance looking absolutely NOTHING like her. It feels amazing to know that there is a HEAVILY autistic coded character out there who i can find some comfort in. Not the same kind of comfort as Callie, but different.

I really do love Marina, and I wish my brain would hyper focus on her instead of the magenta squid woman...

I hope we can move past this and learn how to treat people who look different from you much MUCH better. Although the Splatoon community can be very accepting of others and is genuinely one of the more kinder communities out there, it still has a really awful and down right racist side to it, that makes me sick to my stomach.

The stuff i saw about the situation involving Marina and her VA really pissed me off, and i felt so incredibly disappointed. I want this community to do better, and i want minorities to feel safe and comfortable here. It's not fucking fair man.

It's insane to me that the series that's an allegory for racism is full of racist individuals who freak out over seeing a person that isn't white and straight... UGHHHH! It makes so angry, SO. ANGRY. God forbid a woman has a darker tone of skin...

We got 4 idols based on Japanese culture and its different aspects in terms of Idol popstars, a Brazilian singer, an Indian performer, and a black octopus woman. Being racist and defending the act of white washing in a series full of diversity and representation is such vile shit and there is no place for you here, or anywhere else for that matter.

Im not even talking about the person who made that pale skin Marina art, they have said sorry and will focus on improving themselves, only time will tell if they do. But, the people who defended them and then got mad at others who crictised something as important as a character's skin tone... Fucking despicable behaviour.

I really wanna believe in good and hope that the Splatoon community can really grow from this and actually fully embody the messages the games have shown us. But so far, it seems like some of y'all haven't got the message drilled in your fucking heads.

If you freak out over two dark skinned fictional women like these girls right here, then I'm genuinely worried about how you act towards real-life women of colour.

Do better. Seriously. Get better at how you perceive others and really reflect on yourself and what you say towards people who look different than you.

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

People do not talk about TruthSeekers enough

Specifically the end fight. Not only is this some of the most gorgeous fucking animation I've ever seen, not only is the use of character's leitmotifs as a combined theme brilliant and clever, but the interactions between everyone and everyone and Blitz is just fucking fantastic.

Mox and Blitz of one fucking mind at the start. Blitz talking to everyone but twisted to look Moxxie dead in the eye when he yells fuck these fuckers UP and Moxx getting him instantly.

Loona protecting her dad, Blitz not even twitching when the chain blade is hurled at him because he knows it's not going to touch him. Her using her mouth as much as her hands if not more to wreck havoc.

Millie's sheer glee at getting to kick ass and take names, as if it's all a big game, not even having to break a sweat. The fact that she never stops being sweet and affectionate and silly even in the middle of this nonsense because she's still a little doll of a woman, but you started this shit and she's going to finish it. You fucked with her Moxxie and her Blitz. The fact that she uses an axe as big as she is and just lets it's momentum carry her around, throwing herself from one person to the next.

Moxxie's mob-kid little psychotic violent side getting to shine- the silly, goofy, shy little awkward buttmonkey reminding everyone why he's here and that he is just as capable as everyone else, thank you, with this feral gremlin streak just barely under the surface of his musical-loving, well spoken, well educated presentation.

Blitz's evil fucking laugh when he fires the "Pussy Destroyer" ( which made me laugh way too hard myself.)

The way Blitz scuttles across the fight interacting with his team, stopping at each and every person to make sure they are armed, they are doing well, backing them up and cheering them on, before blitzing (hahaha) off to have his own fun with these stupid little human fuckers. It's our first real look at how capable and deadly this silly, filthy little gay nerd is- he's agile, fast as fuck, vicious as hell, and strong. Guy used to be in the circus ok?

(Also the way he scrambles over and around Loona mid-fight which I adore.)

And what I consider to be the best (and maybe most important part)

the 'Mox, cover me!' moment.

These two are back-to-back, in the middle of a heated life-or-death fight, and not only does Blitz know roughly when they'll have to reload, he goes digging in his backpack fearlessly despite danger surrounding him and Moxxie firing just above his head, fully trusting Moxxie not to miss, to- well, cover him. On top of that, these two then perform not one but two blind weapon handoffs, swap to melee in almost perfect unison, and agree, wordlessly, when to split.

And the grins on the face of everyone (except poor Moxxie) when it's over, a moment of victory and connection.

Not even getting into the protective arms Blitz puts out across his team when it seems like they are cornered and trapped, teeth bared, ready to pounce, to use claw and teeth to defend them if he has to, if that's what it takes.

Not even getting into the fact that when Stolas first appears to save them, their shadows combine to make his, turning the four of them into one being just for a moment to make something significantly more powerful.

Not to mention the way reality seems to reassert itself as soon as the lights come back on, just the way it does when you wake up from a nightmare.

This got long fast and I'm sorry, but this scene just has so much character introspection, development, and explanation with barely a spoken word and I love it.