#and that’s a theme that rings true for the both of them no matter the timeline manga ‘98 anime and tristamp

[alexiethymia]

I love “I heard your voice too”, but I also love the translation, “Thank you Meryl. It reached me. Your voice”.

It cements the parallel between them as foolhardy, reckless idiots who never give up, as well as makes a neat little call back to the first episode where Meryl ropes him in. Meryl’s voice reached him in time to save him, and Vash’s wire reached her in time to save her from Knives.

[neochan]

THE PRIDEFUL GAMER (M)

SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is part two of a series! read part one for context!

PAIRING | best friend!haechan x reader

SYNOPSIS |  lee donghyuck had the largest ego you’d ever seen for someone who stayed cramped in their dorm room all night playing video games; but when you stay in with him the night after a raging party, you find yourself realizing that ego just might be deserved.

WC | 10.8k

WARNINGS | cursing, mentions of alcohol & weed, sexual comments, hyuck shirtless and covered in paint, party games, comments abt virginity, switch!hyuck (slight sub, lean dom), sexual content (nothing too crazy).

A.N | i know you guys have been waiting for this, so i hope it lives up to the hype :) and if it doesn't - sorry

“Haechan, I need you to fuck me.”

Your reflection stares back at you in the mirror, tired eyes ringed with heavy circles and glinting in judgement.

This was fucking ridiculous.

No matter how many times you sat in front of the mirror and practiced, you couldn’t get the words out with a straight face. Even the wet dreams that plagued your sleeping hours weren’t enough to prepare you. After all, you still couldn’t believe what you were going to ask Haechan to do. Or participate in, rather.

It wasn’t that you were scared, or that you didn’t want it, because trust and believe your mind and body both craved him; it was just stressful. Asking your bestfriend to give you some dick and then go on and mind his business like nothing happened?

Unfathomable.

But it was Haechan, and something in your brain told you he’d jump at the chance to fuck you; at least you were hoping so. How could you not think that when he said things like –

“If I open the door, am I gonna see boobs?”

Case in point.

You yell back, a blush of embarrassment heating your face while you fumble around to act like you were putting on makeup and not practicing asking him for sex, “No you pervert!”

The door swings wide open and the boy in question steps into the tiny room, “That’s a damn shame.”

God Damn.

Ever since that alcohol induced dream, your body had taken the liberty of reacting every time you caught sight of Haechan. It didn’t matter if he was drunk with pasta sauce smeared all over his face after he smashed a bowl of ravioli (true story), or if he was all done up for a class presentation on the history of the toaster oven (out of all things); your body reacted the same either way.

It went further than just sight though. If you so much as smelled someone wearing similar cologne to what he normally wore, arousal bells started ringing and you had to sprint home to relieve the ache between your legs.

This time wasn’t any different.

Fluffy, dark brown hair is what you see first, gelled stylishly in effortless waves around his head, save for the small curls on the nape of his neck. When you move your gaze lower, you lock eyes with his, and a spark of curiosity blooms. Then it’s his perfect pink lips set in a cute pout, and rounded jaw that you often stared at when he ate because it made you think of how good he’d be at eating you out. The thoughts start to creep into your mind, and you have no choice but to shake them out and replace them with something else, which so happened to be his outfit…or lack thereof.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, revealing a cute tummy with faint lines and deeply toned biceps. You’d punched him in the stomach once before, and you didn’t need to see abs to know that that man was rock solid. Multicolored neon body paint decorated his torso and back, tiny splatters here and there, but the star of the show is a lime green handprint wrapped around his throat (Jaemins probably). His black sweats also had paint on them, but his combat boots didn’t have a drop of color. If he expected to get out of the frat with them looking spotless, he had another thing coming.

“You do know the theme is neon?” His voice jolts you back into reality, and the blush that was gone finds its way back to your throat and cheeks. You were literally sitting in front of the mirror with a neon pink bralette on, why was he asking you this? Slightly, you nod. “Then why are you staring at me? I know I’m not ripped like Jen or Jaem, but come on, I can rock the dad bod!”

“Haechan. Take this with a grain of salt, but you have a decent body.”

Automatically, the compliment goes to his head, “Wanna see all of it sometime?”

Yes, please.

“No.”

A cheeky smile forms on his lips, “Thought so…”

“I’m actually surprised you’re going. Don’t you have a video game competition or something?” You stand up from your spot in front of the vanity and grab your leather jacket that was laying on the rack beside it.

“I can’t pass up free liquor. You know this.”

For some reason, your outfit seems like its missing something, and desperately your eyes are searching for it… ah! A necklace. You couldn’t go in a frat without some form of jewelry. Unable to reach behind yourself and clasp it, you hold it out to Haechan who doesn’t hesitate to grab it and push your shoulder, so your back was to him. “So, the plan is to get hammered?”

Tender fingers brush aside your hair, a spark igniting in the pit of your stomach. You feel almost giddy at his touch, and you’re not sure you entirely hate it. You anticipate more, and he doesn’t disappoint. His hands reach around your throat, the heavy pendant resting at the base of your throat while his fingers work at the nape of your neck to clasp it.

“The plan is to get absolutely drunk, find a bad bitch and fuck her till the entire house knows my name.” His voice is low, dropping right next to your ear, and the air blowing from his lips makes your shiver into his touch at your neck.

“S-Sounds like a good plan.” you whisper.

What was this boy doing to you?

“Wanna help?”

“H-Help? Help with what? Help you?”

He backs away, hands held out in front of him and a smile cracking his features, “Yeah. Wanna help me find a frat bunny?”

I’m right here.

“Oh, uh, sure.”

“Perfect.” He starts to head out before turning back to you, “You didn’t think I was gonna ask if I could fuck you… did you?”

Your response comes out suspiciously fast, but Haechan had pregamed before stopping at your dorm, and he definitely didn’t catch it, “No! I would never! You’re like… really fucking gross. Sorry Hyuck.”

“Ahhh, theres the Y/N I know!” he claps you on the shoulder, “By the way, Jeno and Jaem are waiting in the car downstairs so hurry up.”

With that, he’s gone, the slamming of the front door resonating deep in the pit of your stomach, your nerves buzzing, and every muscle tense.

This was going to be a long night.

People were already throwing up in the bushes by the time you and the boys arrived, but you’d rather wade through puke than sit in Jeno’s car a second longer.

The entire ride to the frat house was a mess. From being squished between Jaemin and Hyuck, thanks to Jeno reserving the front seat for his precious bottles of Smirnoff and Hennessy (Seriously, he wouldn’t move them. He even buckled them up in case he crashed the car. As if the bottles wouldn’t break.) to having one of said bottles passed around the backseat and promptly spilled all over your upper body; you couldn’t take it anymore.

Unfortunately, the situation was made worse by Haechan's actions. As the cold alcohol spilled all over you, his hands peppered over your body, gliding through the sticky liquid that was rapidly drying. When he touched the lace of your bralette, his fingers inadvertently brushed against your nipple, reigniting the warmth in your stomach.

You really hoped he hadn’t noticed.

Jaemin, on the other hand, kept shoving his arm around to try and garner your attention towards his phone, which had pictures of sorority girls pulled up.

“Which ones should I take back to my place tonight?” He kept asking you, again and again and again until you and his minty breath were quite acquainted.

Needless to say, you wanted out.

So, when the car came to a screeching halt along the sidewalk, you were all but climbing over Jaemins lap to get the door open.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have you all over me, but this isn’t what I meant.” The flirtatious jokes from Jaemin were already starting, but he wasn’t the target tonight, Haechan was.

“Sorry, Haechan’s body odor was starting to get to me.” You send a warm smile to the boy clambering out of Jeno small coupe behind you.

“I literally haven’t even started being mean to you yet, why are you throwing insults?” Haechan stands tall, the heels of his combat boots making him tower over you, “And I’m wearing old spice anyway, this shit lasts ages. You must have been smelling Jaemins dick… I heard it’s quite overused.”

The pink haired boy whips around, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his sweatpants, “Why are you mad I get more pussy than you?”

Jeno thrusts a bottle of alcohol into you and Haechans hands, leaving Jaemin empty handed, who looks at you with a pout. You uncap your bottle, a dark thing of Hennessy, and pass it to him.

Haechan snorts, “Not mad, just annoyed that you keep me up all night with your grunting.”

Jaemin passes the bottle back to you and gives you a wink, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, the four of you start walking through the grass and up the steps to the frat house.

The front lawn was littered with red, plastic solo cups, ping pong balls, and empty beer cans. Toilet paper hung around a poorly spray-painted piece of cardboard that read, ‘welcome to the jungle’. College students hung around the porch smoking cigarettes and weed, and somehow a joint ends up between your fingers before you’ve even reached the front door.  

“Wanna shotgun that?” Haechan smirks, wiggling his eyebrows when you shove the loosely wrapped blunt between your lips.

Inhaling takes a minute, the burning sensation of the weed filling your lungs and immediately reaching your bloodstream. You blow the smoke directly in Haechans face as a way of declining his offer, though pressing your lips against his and sharing a smoky kiss sounded real good right then.

He waves a hand in front of his face, “Fine. I see how it is.”

Whoever handed you the blunt plucks it out from between your fingers before you can pass it to Haechan and disappears around the side of the house.

“Well, that was mean.” Jaemin sighs defeatedly.

“I’m pretty sure Renjun is inside selling if you want to buy something off of him.” Jeno shouts over his shoulder.

“Fair warning though, he doesn’t roll well.” You spit tiny green pieces of marijuana onto the front walkway and cringe at the taste. There was a reason you didn’t like edibles.

Jeno just nods to the freshman pledge assigned to door duty (a scrawny boy who went by the name of Shotaro) and shoulders the front door of the house. Immediate booming bass finds your chest and rattles through you, the smell of spilled alcohol and cheap drugs clouding the house in a thick smog. Black lights hang from the ceiling, the people loitering near the entranceway glowing brightly in neon oranges, blues, green, yellows, and pinks.

You vaguely notice a few of the brothers roaming around passing out beers to the partygoers, but one in particular notices the four of you crowding the entrance and discards his last beer to a random girl at his side before jogging over.

“Jae!” Jeno and the brother lock hands and embrace, slapping each other’s backs in a way that looked painful.

The only reason you had gotten into the frat parties all year long was because of Jaehyuns and Jeno’s relationship – they were on the hockey team together, and brothers.

Jung Jaehyun was a senior, the head of the most popular frat on campus, NEO, and Jeno’s half-brother. You’d never really interacted with him, but from what you heard, he was a nice guy with an even nicer girlfriend, and they were head over heels in love with each other. You didn’t see her around anywhere, not that you would know what she looked like.

“Looking for someone?” Haechans voice, gravelly and low, finds your ear and makes you shiver despite how hot it was in the house. You hated the way he made your body feel, but not as much as you should have.

“You’re about to be looking out of one eye if you don’t back the fuck up.” Hostility was not your strong suit, but Haechan just drug something out of you.

“Jesus Christ, you need to drink. You’re so much better drunk. A lot nicer.” He smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and you can physically feel your heart beginning to melt.

A little voice in the back of your head is telling you to say, and you’re so much better when you shut up, how about you put that mouth to use between my legs?

But you refrain.

It’s very hard to refrain.

You almost slip.

That is, until you realize Jaehyun has since walked away and left the four of you to party how you please.

“Okay. I’ll be staying sober. Well, as sober as a good couple blunts make me. Please try to stay in the house, it makes it so much easier when it’s time to go and I have to round you jack offs up.” Jeno smirks, handing his bottle of alcohol to Jaemin who gladly takes it.

You’re surprised he hasn’t already gone looking for someone to fuck, it was well known that him and Jaehyun didn’t particularly get along. Something about Jaemin fucking Jaehyuns ex… you didn’t know the full story.

Jeno grabs Haechans bare shoulders, “Please, for the love of God, do not jump in the pool again. Last time you almost drowned and I don’t feel like planning a funeral for your sorry ass.”

“I make no such promises, but I will try my best.” The younger boy beams.

“Alright, go have fun, and try not to catch a STD. I’ll be over with Renjun if you need me.” And with that, your friend Jeno breaks from the group, his neon painted bare back shining brightly amongst the crowd right before he fades in.

Jaemin breaks off almost immediately after chugging the bottle of alcohol Jeno had given him.

Haechan, who wasn’t one for parties and usually stayed holed up in his dorm room playing video games all night, sways by your side awkwardly.

“Aren’t you gonna go find a frat bunny to fuck?” You shout over the blaring music.

He looks almost nervous when he shifts his gaze to you, “I don’t really see anyone of interest… except you of course. Wanna go fuck in the bathroom?” A shit eating grin blinds you right before he lifts the Smirnoff bottle and takes a swig, finishing it with a grimace.

Wouldn’t it be nice to say yes and get his part of the challenge over? Fuck, how you wanted to grab his hand and drag him to the nearest bathroom, but frat parties weren’t the place to hook up, and you wanted to take your time with him anyway.

“I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

“You’re telling me you don’t wanna hit this?” He rubs his free hand across his chest and stomach, dipping it so far as to drag down a bit of his sweatpants. A strong V-Line peeks out and you almost choke on air, eyes bugging out of your skull.

“Keep your fucking clothes on Hyuck.” You sputter.

He cocks an eyebrow and reaches out for your hand, which you hesitate to take. What was he doing? Was he trying to bring you into the nearest bathroom?

All he does is tug you towards the main room, an open area full of students dancing, drinking, and smoking, “Interesting… Come on, let’s party.”

The feeling of his calloused fingers enlaced with yours was enough to send your mind spiraling deep into the thoughts that plagued your dreams – like what it would feel like to have them wrapped around your neck, or shoved between your thighs, maybe even down your throat. 

Mentally, you tell your brain to shut up (it always did get slutty in these environments).

“Y/N!!” A girly voice shouts off to your left, dragging both you and Haechans attention. Lisa, a girl in the same major as you, who you’ve known for a couple years now, is barreling toward you and the boy you’re linked hand in hand with. She shoves a few partygoers to the side, an opened beer can in her hand which she’s cautious enough not to spill.

When she finally makes it to your side, her eyes dip down and make note of your hands crushed together, a freshly waxed eyebrow popping up in question at you. Immediately you yank your hand away from Haechan, who glares in protest but doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t think I would see you here!” She’s beaming head to toe and slings a paint splattered arm around your shoulders.

You smile back, “Jeno made me come.” She’d had a crush on Jeno for ages, and from the look on her face at the mention of his name, it still existed.

“Oh, he’s here? I didn’t even know!! I need to go find him asap.”

“Well yeah, it’s his brothers party and all…” Haechan pipes up from beside of you, nervously biting at his nails. He always chewed his cuticles unrecognizable.

She looks up at him with a weird expression before extracting her arm and turning to face you, her back to Haechan, who sneers and throws up a middle finger in her direction. It makes you chuckle, but thankfully she doesn’t question it.

“Well, a bunch of us are playing games upstairs if you wanna join.”

You start to say no, but you can tell in her eyes that she wasn’t going to take that as an answer, so you nod your head, “Sure.”

A squeal so loud heads turn, erupts from her mouth, “Good!!! Ima go find Jeno and then head up there. I’ll see you soon.” And with a kiss to your cheek, she’s gone.

“Well, guess we’re playing games.” Haechan huffs, reaching for your hand now that she was gone, “I hope it’s spin the bottle so I can kiss you.”

Me too.

Rolling your eyes, you start towards the stairs, “Haechan?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Haechan didn’t shut up.

In fact, he kept his mouth running all the way up the stairs, through the bodies loitering in the hallway, around a puddle of puke, and into the makeshift living room Lisa must have set up.

Not like you were paying much attention to what he said anyways. Instead, your mind chose to focus on the way his back looked in the dim lighting of the frat house. Underneath a layer of pretty tan skin, the boy was all muscle, stretching and tensing when his lithe legs carried him up the inclined stairs. And when he turned around to make sure you were still following him, despite his hand being attached to yours, you notice the muscles carried all the way around to his abdomen and torso.

Because the house was hot and humid, the paint splattered on his chest was fading and streaking. The neon paint dripped down his body, with some even dribbling into the waistband of his sweatpants. The idea of the paint staining his v-line creates a sensation of warmth in your stomach.

You wanted to see him naked so bad and it made you mad.

What happened to the boy who stayed in his room every day and barely touched vegetables? What happened to him being a friend and just that? Had one night of drinking skewed your common sense? Or was this just a side effect of the challenge you were doing?

Whatever, he’s fucking hot and he has a big dick, you argue with yourself, images of what you saw on his phone flashing through your mind.

Haechan getting his dick sucked by some random girl, forcing her to deepthroat and then whimpering.

The thought alone almost makes you steer him into the nearest bathroom, but the makeshift living room comes too soon.

“I literally can’t get rid of you.” Jaemin perks up from his spot on the floor, bottle of liquor tucked away in his lap.

“Talk to Lisa.” You shoot back flatly.

As you glance around the room, you realize that the only person you recognize is Jaemin. While a few faces seem familiar, you can't recall their names or where you may have seen them before.

Hyuck guides you over to the circle where everyone is seated and takes a spot, leaving you to settle in opposite him. "Looks like it's just you and me," he says with a grin, displaying his gleaming white teeth. You can't help but wonder how they would feel against your inner thighs, and you unconsciously clench them together while crossing your arms.

You didn’t know how long Lisa and Jeno were going to be, or if she was still downstairs recruiting more players, but you’re lucky not to be left alone with your thoughts too long, because a couple minutes later, she, Jeno and Jaehyun (surprisingly) filter into the room, one after the other.

Haechan’s eyes cut to you, and he smirks, eyebrows wiggling in a stupidly suggestive way.

“Okay! Seems like we got enough players.” Lisa pipes up, taking the spot next to you that sat empty (thankfully no one had sat and tried to make acquaintance. you were too sober for that). Jeno sits off to your right, and Jaehyun takes the spot next to Haechan.

Jaemin leans in towards the circle, appearing invested as he asks, "What game are we playing?" His gaze travels up and down Lisa's body, and he licks his lips. You roll your eyes; of course, she was the one he was after tonight. Too bad her eyes were on Jeno.

She gives a short giggle before replying, “How about seven minutes in heaven?”

A low murmur ripples through the circle but affirming head nods set the game in motion.

Honestly, you find the game awkward and childish, something played in your early high school years, but maybe the universe and luck would be on your side tonight.

Wasn’t the whole point of tonight to get into Haechans pants? This silly little game was the perfect opportunity.

He seemed to be on the same wavelength because one glance and you see him making kissy faces directed at you.

Why the fuck was he so weird?

And why did you want to crawl across the circle and kiss him?

“Great, can we use that bottle Jaemin?” Lisa asks, and he’s quick to shove it in the middle. He must really want her to come home with him tonight if he’s giving up his alcohol that easily – or the bottle at least.

Lisa takes a finger and spins the bottle, the handle flying around so fast it looked like a blur. You hold your breath, silently praying it doesn’t land on you. You could probably hear a pen drop in the room (plus the thumping bass coming up through the floorboards).

It comes to a standstill, pointing at a random girl you’ve never seen before. She looks nervous, but that was to be expected, right?

Lisa spins the bottle again and you thank your lucky stars when it lands on another girl in the circle.

Two girls down, about 12 of you left.

The next few rounds follow a similar pattern, with two unfamiliar people being chosen and then awkwardly leaving the circle. At some point Jaemin and a blonde headed bimbo filter off to surely fuck.

The game starts to feel pointless, but then the bottle lands on you.

Haechan immediately perks up from being previously slumped against a pillow. The bottle of Smirnoff by his side was slowly draining, and you could tell he was feeling it a bit. A rosy blush spread itself on his cheeks and his eyes shined bright. An eager look crosses his face when Lisa tips the bottle into spinning.

Whoever it landed on was going to be shoved in a tiny closet with you for the next seven minutes. Time ticked slow, your eyes following it’s every move.

Spinning.

And spinning.

And spinning.

And stop.

“No fucking way.” Haechan pouts.

Your eyebrows raise, a short, disbelieving laugh rushing past your lips. The bottle has landed between Jaehyun and Haechan, more towards the latter, but nearly dead set between.

“Well, who is it then?” Haechan urges, pushing himself up on his knees, “Cause it’s more towards me, so I think it’s only fair…”

“Maybe by a single degree.” Jaehyun argues, locking his eyes with yours and giving a lopsided smile.

It strikes you as odd that Jaehyun, who you're pretty sure has a girlfriend (Jeno had mentioned her once or twice), is even participating in the game. Despite this, he seems to be making eyes at you, smiling with deep dimples and winking. You just stare back at him, causing the tips of his ears to flush red. You weren’t going to be the cause of a scandal if he was, in fact, still dating that girl.

So the dilemma (that wasn’t really a dilemma) dawns on you. Your best friend or the boy who (maybe) had a girlfriend? You contemplate storming out of the room and forfeiting the game – but what was the fun in that? And anyways, Haechan looked like he was getting antsy.

“Come on Hyuck.” you grumble, pushing yourself up off the dusty floor and slipping out into the semi-crowded hallway. The boy eagerly follows on your heel until you’re shouldering a random door and slipping into a dark room.

It feels much bigger than the closet you were envisioning, though where was the fucking light? Both of you search the walls to no avail. Faintly, you see the outline of a bed and walk over to it, dropping down on the sunken mattress – Haechan following your lead.

“What a coincidence that it’s you and me. I mean, I knew you wanted to fuck me, but seriously, how did you rig a spin the bottle game?”

In this moment you’re glad for the darkness enveloping the room – then he wouldn’t see the shock and embarrassment flooding your face.

Defensively, you shove his chest, “Shut up. I didn’t rig the game.”

The smirk is almost evident in his tone, “Oh, but you do wanna fuck me?”

“No – Haechan I wanted to play a game. Of course fate would give me your ass.”

“Maybe fate wants us to hook up.” he murmurs.

I’d agree with fate then, you think.

A million thoughts flood your mind in a millisecond. How convenient it was that you were stuck in an empty room, with a bed, with Hyuck – with a shirtless Hyuck. The dim lighting outlines the contours of his chest, and you can feel yourself clenching your thighs together for what felt like the umpteenth time.

“Would you like that?” You whisper, slightly leaning closer to him. He wasn’t that far away. Maybe a foot at most.

“Is the sky blue?” He retorts, ever so slightly leaning into you too.

You roll your eyes, “Is that a trick question – because it’s nighttime right now and the sky is black.”

“I don’t know, maybe you should kiss me and find out.”

His voice is lower than normal, which surprises you. But not as much as the statement. You knew he was like this – forward and flirty. Though it’s different when you actually want to reciprocate.

Time slows down and the electricity of the moment surrounds you two. His lips are inching towards your own, long, slender fingers grabbing your thighs.

Fuck, it’s happening – Everything you’ve been dreaming about for weeks on end. How did this happen so fast?

You can smell the alcohol on his breath – wondering if he’ll taste sweet like brandy.

“Hyuck…” you whisper, “ I-“

Light and sound flood the room, startling the fuck outta you and making you jump three feet back into the headboard.

“Oh shit –” the partygoer curses.

The girl on his arm giggles, “’m sorry. Didn’t mean to barge in on you two!” They slam the door, and the muffled sounds of the party bring you back to the present.

Yellow spots cloud your vision as you fumble to stand up, almost tripping over what you can assume to be a backpack.

You swallow thickly, “Let’s go back downstairs.”

“I’ll meet you down there.” Haechan whispers, one hand running through his hair, “You go on ahead.”

Without another word, you slip into the hallway and slink down the stairs – into the hands of hundreds of drunk college kids. You see Jaemin taking shots and Jeno smoking it up with Renjun.

What the fuck just happened.

And why did I ruin it.

After a good twenty minutes away from each other, you realize he was the only person who you cared to hang out with. So, you found him utterly intoxicated on the kitchen floor and forced him to dance with you.

Well really you just forced him off the kitchen floor which he really didn’t want to leave, but once he was up and moving, he took you by hand and made the night worthwhile.

Now two hours later, with most of the alcohol Jeno had supplied gone, all you can think about is sucking Haechans dick.

It’s because of the way he danced (and smelled, and looked, and…). His hands reach out and greedily grab at your waist, fingers twisting through the empty belt loops of your jeans. A bit of the paint he had on was smudged against you, thanks to him pulling you into a bear hug earlier in the night.

He was drunk, and it made him extra touchy. Though you didn’t mind, in fact, you welcomed it now that your resolve was slipping. So, when he pushes you against the wall, one hand held high over your head, his other circling your jaw, it’s no surprise that your heartbeat goes wild. A blush rises hot on your face; his eyes finding yours and piquing with dull amusement.

“I gotta tell you a secret-” he slurs, swaying in your arms. He thinks for a minute before putting a hand over his mouth, “Wait, I can’t tell you.” When you don’t respond, instead, electing to stare at him in amusement, his lips jut out into a pout, “Why don’t you like me?”

One of your hands pushes against his slick with sweat chest, “I do like you?” Your breathing becomes labored when his lips pull back in a sloppy grin.

“You like me? You like me!!” Haechan teeters a bit to the left, almost falling into another couple that were vigorously making out, “They need to get a room… we need to get a room.”

We had a room.

“We need to get a room?” You question, eyes widening when he leans in so close he’s only an inch away from kissing you.

“Can I kiss you?”

It feels like the room comes to a crescendo, every sound clashing yet becoming silent at the same time. All you can think about is his mouth and how pretty and pink his lips are. How it would be heaven to meld into the strong grasp of your best friend. How the constant nights of intimate dreams of him weren’t enough to satisfy you. How you should have taken him up on his offer in that damn room.

How you wanted to go to that damn bathroom now.

But this was wrong.

The wrong time, wrong place, wrong everything.

You were drunk, he was more than drunk, and surely that would affect whether you thought he fucked the best.

From around his shoulder, you spot Jeno staring at you with a beer in his hand – so much for staying sober. He’s smirking, slightly chuckling, and cocking his eyebrows at you as if asking, ‘you gonna kiss him?’

“Haechan.”

The boy has gone from being semi coherent to humming some sort of song that wasn’t even close to the one that was playing.

“Haechan!” you shake his shoulder in an attempt to snap him out of the stupor, and suddenly he stands up tall.

“Y/N, I missed you!!! What are you doing here?” It was like he was seeing you for the first time.

He was too drunk to function. You should have expected as much, but you’re still slightly disappointed that you wouldn’t be able to go forth with your plan.

You sigh and grab his arm, the disappointment nearly sobering you up, “Let’s go find Jeno and get you home, okay?”

His eyes go frantic, “We can’t forget Jaemin! We have to find Jaemin!!!”

“Don’t worry Hyuck, I’d leave you here sooner than I would him.”

Maybe then I wouldn’t have the urge to ride you on the frats sofa.

“Meanie.”

Steaming bags of takeout hang off your arm as you fumble to push your way through the unusually small dorm door.

“Hyuck! Jaemin!” you yell, hoping one of them would dart out of their room and help you with the load of cheap food you were threatening to drop on the ground. You shouldn’t be surprised when all is silent except for the smash of controller buttons and Haechans frustrated screech.

You wade through the mess that nearly makes you gag – piles of clothes, dirty socks and mud caked shoes. Books and pages of lecture notes litter the ground accompanied with crushed RedBull cans – evidence that Haechan did indeed leave his room at some point.

“Yo, you really need to clean this shit up.” you pantomime throwing up and toss the bags of takeout on Haechans dark blue bedspread that was actually made for once.

His back is to you, eyes trained on the video game he was playing, giving you a half-hearted grunt to acknowledge what you said. The too-big headset threatens to engulf his head, nearly sliding off as he jolts forward in the gaming chair.

“Fuck! Fuck! No… no… don’t… SHIT!” Exasperation floods his tone once the screen turns completely red and his character returns to the main lobby. “You guys suck ass.”

Without hearing their response, he shuts off his monitor and spins around to face you, who was patiently waiting on his bed, “Sorry. I woulda got the door for ya, but…” he gestures behind himself.

“It’s fine.” you mumble.

His eyes travel from your face and to the short ass skirt that was slung over your hips. Immediately your face heats up. Why was this awkward? Does he even remember what happened last night? How you almost kissed in some random frat bros room? Or how he had you pressed up against the wall, asking to kiss you. Does he remember the drive home? How he laid in your lap, drunkenly massaging your thighs? Surely he had to remember you tucking him into bed with the promise of takeout tomorrow night?

But when you look him in the eyes, you just see your friend eager to eat – not someone who you nearly fucked last night.

You clear your throat, “Um, where’s Jaemin?”

Haechan shrugs and starts sifting through the boxes of rice and pork cutlets, “He left early this morning. Said he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Bet that means he’s going to get some pussy.” He takes a bite of rice and speaks through the mouthful, “Twenty four hours though? That’s a long ass time for him.”

You snort and take the box of rice he was gesturing towards you, “Nah, that’s light work for Jaem. As long as he lets us know he’s alive, I think a sex bender might be best for him.”

“You know, he’s still mad that you wouldn’t let him leave with that girl last night.” Haechans laugh rings through the room, making you smile. He had such a pretty voice.

“He was drunker than the both of us combined.” You tear the end of a soy sauce packet and dump it into the container in your lap. “Speaking of, what do you remember from last night? Did you, like, totally black out?”

“Not much, just that you were coming over today.” He says through another mouthful of food.

Great, so he didn’t remember anything. How convenient for you.

“Well… you ended up peeing on this guy when we were leaving because you missed the bush.”

“I missed the bush?”

“The whole bush.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know.”

The food was long gone, with empty containers flooding his trashcan that begged to be taken out.

You were bored.

Here you were, laying on his bed with a lowcut shirt and a fucking miniskirt, and he was back to playing his game.

For the past hour you tried to get him to join you, but to no avail. Who knew that your first target would be the hardest to fuck? How can you accurately judge how good he fucked if he wouldn’t even lay on the bed with you?

One last chance or you were leaving.

This was an all or nothing moment.

“I’m horny.” It was a declaration. A statement so bold, he turns ever-so-slightly towards you and raises an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

You scoff, “You heard me. I need to fuck someone or something.”

The squeak of his chair rings through the uncomfortably silent room as he adjusts himself. What was he thinking? Was he disgusted? Flustered? Did he feel the same?

“Well now that you mention it…” he swallows thickly. Was it hot in his room? Could you feel it too?

You push yourself up into a sitting position, “Come help me.” His dark brown eyes flutter, the tops of his cheeks dusting a light pink color, but he stays silent. "No smart reply? No sexual comments? Did I really fluster the Lee Haechan?"

He gets up from his gaming chair, almost toppling over in the process and spilling the can of Redbull he was clutching onto for dear life. "I am not flustered. " The mattress dips under his weight as he gets comfortable next to you, his gaze falling to the lowcut shirt you wore, "Can’t I touch them if you’re serious?”

His bottom lip juts out in a pout, obviously joking around (your boobs always seemed to be the butt of his sexual comments), but even still, you find yourself removing your shirt before you can think.

The look on his face is priceless, wide eyes almost bugging out of his skull, “I was kidding! Jesus Christ Y/N, put your shirt back on!” his voice has somehow pitched up two octaves, obviously taken aback, but for some reason his eyes remain open and transfixed. It looks as if he’s almost salivating, especially when he watches your nipples perk up from how cool he kept his room.

Reaching out a hand, you clasp his wrist and bring it closer to your body, “But I’m serious.” The bewildered expression never left his face, even when you had him cup his palm around your breast, and then when he took matters into his own hands and gave you a fair squeeze, which made you giggle.

“Am I dreaming? This must be a dream?”

You hop up on your knees, making your tits bounce in the process which drops Haechan’s jaw, “Not a dream, very much reality.”

Slowly and sexily, you crawl towards his seated position beside you, “I want you Haechan.” You breathe the words out slowly, giving him time to comprehend what the fuck his best friend just said.

Confusion flits across his face and he hesitates, “But Y/N…”

“But what? I want you. I want you to fuck me.” His pupils blew wide at the confession.

“Y/N… I can’t.”

Disappointment fills your heart and deflates your ego in a millisecond. You should have known. How could you be so stupid? Of course, he didn’t want to fuck you. You were best friends for fucks sake. It would ruin everything. Why did you even try? Because you were drunk and horny the night the challenge was first brought up? Pathetic, really.

Haechan must have seen the worry and doubt fill your eyes because all of a sudden, he’s grabbing your shoulders, “No, It’s… It’s not because I don’t want to,” His eyes wash over your half naked body, and he licks his lips, “Trust me, I want to…but I’m…I’m.”

Leaning in ever so slightly you whisper, “You’re what? Scared?”

It was a taunt, a tease, a challenge, and he knew it, but he just shakes his head, “Y/N… I’m a virgin.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked, completely taken aback by this new revelation, “You’re a… virgin?”

Pink tints his cheeks and collarbones peeking through his oversized t-shirt, and he hangs his head to avoid eye contact, “Yeah, I’ve never had… never had sex.”

“But you always say –”

“I talk a big game, okay?” The reply rushes from his lips, embarrassment kicking him in the ass, “Yeah I’ve gotten head before, and I’ve eaten a few girls out, but I’ve never had actual sex. It’s… just never happened I guess.”

Here you were, trying to seduce not only your best friend, but your best friend that has just told you he was a virgin. You were trying to steal a virgins innocence. How fucked could you really be?

To be fair, he always acted like he got hella pussy, you argue with yourself.

“Jaemin knows.” He mutters, as if it was of any relevance to the situation.

“Well,” You start, sitting back on your heels, “Here I am shirtless, asking you to fuck me…” His eyes flicker up and lock with yours, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Another challenge.

He did well with challenges, and this time was no different.

You continue, “Unless you believe the ‘only have sex after marriage’ bullshit –”

“Absolutely not.”

Greedy eyes search for an answer on his face, but there’s nothing, only a permanent blush and frantic furrow brows, “Okay, then do you wanna go back to gaming?”

“…No.”

He still isn’t advancing, just sitting with his hands dropped into his lap and looking at you with his wide doe eyes, “Then what?”

You sit there, watching as Haechan fidgets with his hands, clearly nervous about what comes next. The sexual tension that hangs between you two feels like a thick fog. You want him, and you can tell that he wants you too, but the knowledge that he’s a virgin puts a damper on things.

You don't want to be the one to take his virginity. That's a big fucking responsibility, and it's not something that you take lightly. You start to wonder if maybe you should just call it a night and go home. But then Haechan speaks up, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be a virgin anymore."

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you turn to look at him, really look at him for the first time since you arrived. He looks vulnerable, and you can see the fear in his eyes. But you can also see the determination. He knows what he wants, and he's not going to let anything stand in his way.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You know what you want too, but you also know that this is a big deal. You can't just jump into things without thinking them through. "I don't know if I'm the right person for that, Haechan," you say finally. "Taking someone's virginity is a big deal. It's not something to be taken lightly."

Haechan nods, his eyes still locked with yours. "I know. But I trust you, Y/N." His words make your heart skip a beat, and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

"Okay," you say finally. "Okay, we can do this.”

Somehow, the tables had turned on you; and this was getting a lot sappier than you had anticipated.

The awkwardness settles back into the room, Haechan staring at you with his doe eyes, the nervousness flitting about his delicate features.

It’s a beat – a short pause before he speaks so low you almost miss it, “You know I want to fuck you.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

Maybe he’d give you a logical answer and you’d understand; put your shirt back on and let him get back to his video games while you silently scrolled Instagram.

But when was he ever logical?

And when were you ever one to back down?

Faster than you can register, he’s pushing your shoulders backwards until you fall breathlessly against his pillow. He climbs over top of you, his usual goofy smirk replaced with an intensity you both had felt the night before at the frat house. “Nothing’s stopping me.” His breath tickles your cheeks, “But I can’t tell if you’re fucking serious or taking a joke way too far.” A scoff rumbles in his chest, “I’ve damn near bared my soul to you tonight.”

“Not a joke-” you try to argue, but he talks over you.

“Ya know, just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean you can treat me like a plaything.” his head lolls to the side, “Well I mean if you wanted to, you could – but that’s not the point..” He sighs, pressing his face closer to yours, so that you were almost nose to nose. One more inch and you’d be kissing him, “I’m trying to say that if this is a joke… I’m sorry, but I’m gonna fuck you.”

“I – Are you sure about this? You won’t regret anything in the morning?”

He scoffs, “Have you not been listening to me when I speak to you? I’ve been wanting this for ages,” Eyes, half-lidded with desire, wash over your exposed chest, “I’m not gonna regret a damn thing.”

The butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably when Haechan dips his head and captures your lips in a kiss. All you can taste is the fizziness of the redbull he’d been drinking earlier, and something undeniably him. It was urgent and wet, lips sliding over yours to deepen the kiss, dribbles of spit smearing on your cheeks. He was messy.

“No regrets.” You solidify, breath hitching in your throat when his hands cup your breasts – his thumbs flicking over your nipples.

He groans, hips desperately pushing against you, “Let me eat you out.” he asks, though it wasn’t really a question because he starts to lower himself down your figure; pressing wet kisses to your chest. First it’s your collarbone, then the swell of your breasts, all the way down until he hovered right above your skirt.

Your head is reeling with how forward he was, “You’re kinda bold for a vir-”

He slaps a rough hand over your jaw, “If you even so much as utter that word, I’ll shove my cock so far down your throat you won’t be able to speak for a week.” Tauntingly, he quirks an eyebrow as if to dare you, “And anyways,” he continues, moving his hand up to ruffle your hair, “Just because I’ve never stuck my dick between a woman’s thighs doesn’t mean I don’t know how to please one.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, in shock or contemplation of his words, you weren’t sure.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that baby,” Lust drips from his words like venom, the pet name rolling off his tongue a little too certainly, “Sitting up here playing video games has made me exceptionally good with my hands,” he smirks, “and I guess I’m naturally good with my tongue… I don’t know, you’ll have to tell me, yeah?”

Furiously, you nod your head, eyes wide and marveling at this side of Haechan. The one slightly out of breath and bursting with the need to taste you. He was hot. More so than you were expecting. You should pay closer attention sometimes.

He doesn’t waste time undoing your skirt. Instead, he pushes it up until it bunched at your waist, and pretty pink panties were the only thing blocking him from doing what he wanted. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he pulls them down agonizingly slow. “So pretty.” he whispers.

Without hesitation, he flattens his tongue and licks up your slit, a low rumble building in his chest. You tasted exactly like he had imagined.

The contact makes you gasp, and you fumble around for something to hold onto – choosing his hair as the only viable option. One tug and he’s whining against your clit, hips pressing into the bed unbeknownst to you.

“Y-you like hair pulling?” You question, doing it again to test the waters. He doesn’t answer, just groans against your pussy, tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Strong arms hook underneath your hips and pull hard, until you’re sat right up against his face.

“Hyuck.” you whimper, legs shaking. He was relentless, nosing your clit and fucking you with his tongue – all but lapping at the embarrassing amount of arousal wetting the inside of your thighs. “Hyuck!”

He perks up, lips puffy and jaw shining in the dim light of his bedroom,  “What?”

You feel almost shy at his stare, a blush settling over your cheeks and burning hot at the back of your neck, “D-don’t wanna cum just yet.” You stutter out.

Surprisingly, he rolls his eyes, “Let me stretch you out a little bit, okay baby?” There’s no time for you to respond because two of his fingers press against your entrance and slide in with ease. Simultaneously he dives back in, teeth slightly grazing your clit.

“Fuck!” Your back arches up off the bed, hips rolling against his face. His fingers pump into you, the stretch leaving your thighs shaking.

“See baby, all done,” He slips his fingers out and gives you one final suckle, “God, I can’t wait to fuck you.”

Words are unattainable right now, head still reeling from how fucking good he was with his tongue. That’s where he’d gotten the most practice, but you weren’t expecting that. It was what – less than two minutes? Yet you were already fucked out, body buzzing with excitement. If that was just the beginning, what was to come?

While lost in your thoughts, Haechan rid himself of his shirt and shimmied his shorts down.

The video didn’t do him justice.

Yeah, he looked decently big on his phone screen, but after weeks of contemplation, you could only assume it was the angle.

Oh, how wrong you were.

His cock stood thick and heavy, proudly slapping his lower stomach when he moves to throw his clothes on the floor. It was red and leaking pre-cum, and your mouth waters. Oh, how you wanted to hop up and stuff him down your throat. You wanted to milk him until he was shaking and sobbing for you to stop.

But another part wanted him in you, now.

Deep lines of muscle were etched into his torso – contracting when he leant down to kiss you again. You can taste yourself on his lips, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. Haechan was whimpering; all but shaking against you. The vibrations shot straight into your veins like a drug and when he pulls back and sits on his knees, you almost moan.

You are no better than a man.

Watching the way he touches his body, so soft and careful; tugging at his cock impatiently while his eyes are transfixed on the way your pussy clenches around nothing – it sends a desperate signal down between your thighs.

“Enough!” You whine, “Want you in me.”

His trademark smirk appears on his face, “Okay baby… but..,” he chews on his bottom lip in hesitation, “… I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last..”

“I don’t care!” You wail, annoyed, “Fuck me.”

“So demanding,” He huffs, hands fumbling to push your thighs apart. Looking to you for reassurance that everything was alright, he appeared somewhat uncertain and hesitant.

“It’s okay, ” you breathe, gasping when he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance. “Hold my hand!” It was a statement to make him feel surer of himself, but deep down, you knew it was because you were just as nervous.

Shakily, his hand slides into yours and pushes it against the pillow next to your head. He takes a deep breath. This is silly, he chides himself, just stick it in! You’ve been dreaming about this forever! Be a fucking man.

Slowly, he pushes himself fully into you while still maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck!” you both curse at the same time. His eyes flicker in the back of his head, lips trembling when he bottoms out, now sheathed inside your warm cunt. It’s taking everything in him not to cum right there – and you know it too. He stays like that for a minute longer – not moving, just processing.

“Hyuck…” You whimper, resting your legs on his back. He mumbles a mhm, too focused on steadying his breathing, getting his bearings, finding the will to actually fuck you. “Hyuck, you have to move.”

“M-maybe we should use a c-condom.” He stutters, eyelashes fluttering and tangling together. The interlocked grip on your hands falters when you rut your hips up against him. “F-fuck, we need to use a condom.” His breathing is labored as he tries to gather everything he’s feeling and seeing at once. The way your pussy sucks him in, squeezing around his length just fucking right, the feeling of your nipples brushing his chest every time he bottoms out, and the wet kisses being pressed to the juncture between his neck and collarbone. It was making his head dizzy, and he can feel himself already about to – “I’m gonna cum if you keep, fuck – y/n, stop kissing my n-neck.”

Lost in the satisfying pleasure of him stretching you out, you hadn’t even realized you were kissing him – everywhere. Licking at the place just below his earlobe, suckling bruises into the honey gold skin of his throat, and nipping at his jaw. And every time your lips or tongue grazed him, he shallowly thrusted into you – too caught up in the sensations to get a steady rhythm.

You purse your lips in a pout, pulling your head back to rest on the pillow, and stare up at him, “Why stop if you like it.”

“Good p-point.” He stutters out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Maybe that would hide the pink tinging his cheeks – the embarrassment. Or maybe it was because he wanted to be enveloped by you completely. “Fuck,” He groans, his cock dragging against your walls with a concentrated pace – like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. And if that was the case, he was succeeding. 

You mewl and moan every time he slips out of you, just to fuck into you deeper than before. Time doesn’t pass, you don’t register anything but the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach – one that catches you off guard. As you arch your body into his touch, your mind begins to cloud.

Words of praise spill from your lips uncontrollably, "You're doing so well," you murmur, and he whimpers. “So good Hyuckie,” You moan, feeling his head still buried in your neck. “Keep going, baby.” The encouragement rips a broken sob from his throat, but he keeps driving his cock between your legs. He couldn’t stop – how could he? You were like his own personal brand of heroin.

His voice comes out muffled when speaks, “Want you to- fuck.. need you to...” His fingers are trembling, jaw slacked as he forgets his train of thought, “Slow down, wait – I need you to, y/n.. oh fuck this.” a rush of air tickles your body as Haechan tightens his hold and flips you over; worming his way underneath your body so that your legs were now slotted over his waist, cock still pushing into you. “There we go,” he mutters.

The action sends your head spinning, and a squeal rips from your throat. “Woah!”

“Woah!” he mocks, bullying his cock into you at such a fast pace, you were battling to keep your balance. His hands held onto your hips so tightly, there were bound to be a few fingerprint shaped bruises tomorrow morning. But that didn’t matter – not when he was burying his length into you again and again and again, abusing your g-spot to the point you’re babbling nonsense.

Your thighs are quivering on either side of him, struggling to keep yourself bouncing on his cock. Equally shaky hands pepper his chest in an attempt to hold onto something as the fire in your stomach burns hotter. Every whimper, every sob, every moan that falls past his lips is like another burning ember – shooting and twisting through your veins.

“G-gonna cum, Hyuck, gonna – “ you mewl, clawing at his collarbones and shoulders.

A harsh slap lands on your ass as he continues to piston his hips up underneath you. Just hearing you say the words edges him even closer to his own orgasm, “Please baby, cum – shit, cum on my cock, you can do it.” He groans through gritted teeth. Another smack lands, “God, I know you can do it.”

Your eyes roll back as you completely fall apart – he never stopped fucking into you. Not even when you all but collapsed on top of him, heartbeat erratic and gasping for breath. Not even when you begged him to slow down, begged him to give you a chance to recover, maybe get into a different position.

“Just give me one second baby, fuck, I still need to cum,” Like a lightbulb went off, he perks, “Wait- where do you want me t-to cum,” He’s rocking his body into yours now, sweat rolling down his temple with the exertion of holding back. “An-Answer! I can’t hold it anymore you feel too fucking good.”

Swirled in your own euphoria, you barely register his words, yet you manage to whimper against his neck, “Cum in me Hyuckie, please, I’m on the pill.”

The permission is all he needs, but the nickname is what sends him straight into a head high that has him burying his cock deep in you and releasing. Strong arms wrap around your torso and pull you against his shaking body while spurts of cum flood your pussy. He sounds exactly like he did in the video he showed you a few weeks ago – like he was sobbing with relief. Whining and whimpering, lolling his head side to side as he fucks the last of his cum deep into you.

He tries not to move, he tries really fucking hard, but every time you twitched, it squeezed around him again and again – curses flying from his body as he tried to squirm away. He slips out of you quickly, cum smearing on his belly and all over your thighs, “That was…”

You can hear his heartbeat – almost as erratic as yours is, and he’s puffing air, trying to catch an even breath. Both of you are sticky and tired – worn the fuck out. If you tried to push yourself off of him, you think you might topple over, so you don’t. You stay locked in his embrace, listening to the way his breathing slows and chest thumps.

“That was what?”

He runs a hand through his hair, “Everything I’ve dreamt of.”

Giggling, you snuggle closer to him. Who knew he’d be the type to sweet talk after sex. With how much he boasted and teased, you thought he’d be more… you don’t know… arrogant? You liked this side of him though.

Ah, shut up! you think to yourself, you’re not falling in love with him, so stop.

Haechan was a friend no matter if he did just fuck your brains out.

“Gonna go to the bathroom.” you mumble. Anything to get away from him and the swirls of ooey-gooey feelings.  

Clambering off of him proved to be easier than you thought earlier, and the wobble to the bathroom was only slightly embarrassing. You thank God for privacy when you shut the door behind you.

As you look at your reflection in the mirror, you realize how much of a mess you are. Your hair is disheveled, mascara smudged and streaking, and your lipstick is smeared. Dark colored hickies scattered across your chest and collarbones. Despite this, you feel satisfied and content (Regardless of any stupid feelings that might be lingering).

Yet if Hyuck were to sneak in the bathroom behind you and beg for another round, you’d give it to him, no matter if the original challenge was a one and done kind of deal.

Your eyes widen into saucers… the challenge.

It was actually done – or at least partially.

You smirk.

Challenge 1/3 complete.

Maybe you should have stayed the night, but you were gone before the sun peeked over the tree line.

Haechan was still faintly snoring when you had slipped out from underneath the covers, and he only slightly stirred when you accidentally banged your toe on his gaming chair. His parted lips, and tinged cheeks made him look like an innocent angel.

One that you corrupted.

As you hurriedly walk back to your dorm building, you can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt fluttering about your stomach.

“Was this really a one-time thing?” he had asked right before his eyes had fluttered closed.

You had sighed, fidgeting with a thread on his comforter, “I don’t know Hyuck… maybe… I – I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Perhaps his shoulders had deflated with disappointment at your response, but you’d like to think he was just tired.

“Okay, let’s pretend it never happened then. Everything can go back to normal and… and if you want, I’ll be here to satisfy you again.” He had grinned then, although rather grim.

“Deal.”

You shoulder your dorm door and drop your bag on the kitchen table before grabbing a water out of the fridge. Thirstily gulping, you realize that even though it was his first time, he knew how to wear you out.

Points for that, you think.

You quietly slip into your room and take a seat at your desk after tossing the crushed plastic bottle into the trashcan. This is the moment you've been waiting for - a chance to rate the very first boy in the challenge. You grab a stray notebook from a stack nearby, open it to a fresh page, and begin.

Points for doing good his first time…Points for multiple positions…Points for eating you out first…Points for being whiny…Points for being eager…

There wasn’t really a system for your rating, but you take a satisfied look at the number and nod your head.

Congratulation Hyuck, you’ve received a 7.4/10, you think.

Despite it being his first time, he did exceptionally well. Who else could have lasted as long as he did, said the things he did, or fucked the way he did. Slowly, you find yourself slipping back into the memories, a play-by-play from start to finish – until a ping from your pocket drags you out.

Your heart leaps up in your throat.

What if it was him? What if he was asking why you left?

When you pull your phone out from your back pocket, you sigh in relief. It was just Jaemin.

You toss your phone onto your desk and slump against the chair. Jaemin didn’t press the question of why you were up… and hopefully he didn’t say anything during breakfast.

Pushing yourself upright, you dance through the laundry strewn across your floor and into the bathroom.

Despite what you said, you also had to wash the sex smell away. God, you were becoming just like Jaemin. Up at the ass crack of dawn to shower off cum and sweat and spit. Unexpectedly, you grip the shower curtain as a thought bounces around the inside of your skull.

Na Jaemin was just getting his dick wet… with Yeji, of all people. One of his recurring fwb situations.. But.. he was fucking her.

The video he had showed you the first night flashes through your brain. His cock thick and proud, pushing into the girl so fluidly, so rhythmically, so intensely. Until she squirted and he laughed. He had fucking laughed. You remember what he had said, “God you’re so fucking hot. NaNa did that, didn’t he? Mhm…come here pretty girl.”

And even though Haechan had pounded you into the next week, you feel yourself clenching around nothing.

Don’t worry Jaemin, your turn is next.

did you like it? if you did, consider leaving me a like, a reblog, a review, or some feedback in my askbox :)

A. NOTE | big thank you to lou, @peachjaem00, for helping me get over my writers block for this fic.. and for just being fucking awesome! i love you <3

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[thewisecheerio]

Elden Ring, Rejection of Authority, and Transcendentalism

Elden Ring rejects authority as a final solution to the ills of the world, and then offers a message of transcendental hope that such lowly creatures as ourselves might be able to effect real change.

Elden Ring's world is locked into a seemingly endless cycle of violence. No one—not the humanoids, nor the many demigods and gods—has been able to come up with a solution that would establish an everlasting peace.

Count Ymir points out one of the roots of the cycle, which repeats in character after character. He tells us that the Golden Order's system as a whole is rooted in evil, unhinged from the start. Marika and the Fingers—the "mothers" of the system—birthed it malformed from the very beginning:

I fear that you have borne witness to the whole of it. The Conceits - the hypocrisy - of the world built upon the Erdtree. The follies of men. Their bitter suffering. Is there no hope for redemption? The answer, sadly, is clear. There never was any hope. They were each of them defective. Unhinged, from the start. Marika herself. And the fingers that guided her. And this is what troubles me. No matter our efforts if the roots are rotten, then we have little recourse.

Ymir also laments a similar situation with his son, in which he takes the blame for his son's malformation:

Forgive me, I failed to birth you whole, I failed to be your mother. For now, my dear, sleep soundly.

In both cases, we see him blaming the parent for the malformation of their children.

Ymir says separately that without a "true mother", how are we to flourish?

We all need a mother, do we not? A new mother, a true mother, who will not give birth to further malady.

So using these dialogue together, we can see that he believes that children can only flourish with good guidance from a mother figure, and that conversely children (and systems) birthed of a rotten mother will only continue to do harm when their creators set them up to be harmful from the start.

We see the same theme repeat with Metyr, daughter of the Greater Will. She is abandoned and left without its guidance, according to the Staff of the Great Beyond:

The Mother received signs from the Greater Will from the beyond of the microcosm. Despite being broken and abandoned, she kept waiting for another message to come.

We know that 1) the Fingers she birthed were rotten from the start (from the first block quote) and 2) Ymir's supposes that all of us are left floundering without a parent's guidance. We can then surmise that Metyr waiting on guidance from the Greater Will and never receiving it—while simultaneously refusing to change course and seek guidance within herself or another source—led to this malformation of her children. She kept doing the same thing she'd been doing since last hearing from the Greater Will, and that refusal to change course in the absence of guidance was her downfall.

We see this same cycle of abandonment and refusal to change course repeat with Messmer. An NPC spirit's dialogue begs Marika to come collect her abandoned child, presumably Messmer, to put an end to the violence he is doing—as if his violence might be ended by intervention from an authority he respects. But originally set on his genocidal course by his mother (see his armor set clothing tags), Messmer refuses to change course even after being abandoned, as he tells us:

My purpose standeth unchanged

and then proceeds to beat the ever-loving daylight out of us so that he can go back to spearing Hornsent. It's important to ask, "Why? Why must your purpose stand unchanged?" After all, he could simply end the genocide himself, disbanding the military forces that so respect him. But it's his refusal to do anything but act on the last command he received from his preferred authority figure—his mother—that ensures that his cycle of violence will continue.

So if all of the authority figures are truly rotten in Elden Ring, and those who rely on them end up making grave and violent mistakes, where then are we to turn?

The Mending Rune of Perfect Order might give us a clue:

A rune of transcendental ideology which will attempt to perfect the Golden Order. The current imperfection of the Golden Order, or instability of ideology, can be blamed upon the fickleness of the gods no better than men. That is the fly in the ointment.

The Rune reminds us not to worship gods—or any authority figures—for they are just as fallible as the men who blindly follow them. It explicitly warns us against relying solely on guidance from authority to decide on what we think the right course is.

And so if we cannot rely on authority, where then do we turn?

I think the gameplay gives us two answers. After all, the only ones who can make actual change within the game world are 1) ourselves, and 2) our community, should we choose to summon other players for help. So instead of worshipping any authority figure, hoping that they will simply tell us what to do, we are forced to make decisions with our own and our community's input alone.

Elden Ring challenges you to think critically about what you and your community think is truly right and effective in any given situation. In this way, Elden Ring gives us a thoroughly transcendental message of hope, that such lowly creatures as ourselves and our community might remake the world to be better.

[bobabisch]

I often hear the argument that Luffy is dumb, and I can't help but be ticked off every time I hear someone say it, because Luffy isn't dumb, he's simply carefree. And I mean that in the literal sense of the word. Luffy truly does not have a care in the world. Luffy chooses not to complicate things. He does things for the simple fact of wanting to and he purposely refuses to learn about people, situations, and the nuances involved with both because the nuance just pollutes the true nature of the subjects. Luffy doesn't choose to do these things out of ignorance or selfishness, but because in the grand scheme of things, all the information that he chooses to ignore is wholly unimportant both by Luffy's own standards and to the development of the story as well. What Luffy deems unimportant does not matter at all to how things play out in the anime.

Luffy, at his core, is an incredible judge of character. Luffy's relationship with Tama is a perfect example of this. By all accounts Luffy's first impression of Tama should have been negative. She came off as a little bit mean and stand-offish. However, Luffy in his natural Luffy-fashion is unbothered. He didn't need Tama to tell him or show him explicitly the kind of person she was to understand her as a person. Despite the fact that she was a little girl, Luffy treated her with basic respect right off the bat. Luffy didn't see her as child, but rather as the self-sufficient human she was. Of course his fondness for her was only furthered by the food that Tama gave him. Luffy didn't need to know anything more about Tama after he heard that she had given him her last shares of food. He didn't need to hear Tama's sad story to understand her. She treated him with kindness, like she would a friend, even though they had just met. Luffy would go to the ends of the earth for her over that simple fact. He had no desire to learn of Wano's history to better understand how Tama got to this point in her life. All he needed to do and all thay he wanted to do was return a kindness. And that he did.

The same can be said for the part Luffy plays in Nami's story. When Nami 'betrayed' Luffy, he'd simply brushed it off. Once again, Luffy knew who Nami was without having to ask and without her having to show him explicitly. Luffy saw her 'betrayal' yet did not take it at face value. Luffy refuses to leave her behind because everything Nami had said/done in that situation muddled Luffy's inherent and instinctive understanding of her character. This next bit is ironic to say because Luffy often makes decisions with his stomach rather than his head, but its clear that Luffy would rather trust his gut feeling than try to understand Nami's actions which appeared entirely contradictory to Luffy's perception of her personality/character.

This theme rings true throughout the whole anime. This happens when Luffy chooses to trust Law on Punk Hazard over Law's rather dubious choices without needing or wanting an explanation from him. This happens when he rescues Zoro at the very beginning of the anime and he simply trusts this well-known pirate hunter not to cut him down right of the post. I beg of you all, please do not dilute Luffy's complex character design down to something so trivial as him simply "being stupid".

Sorry for the tangent, I have just always felt people who say this about Luffy sell him and his whole character design short. There is so much more that I could say about this too. I could go into detail about the ways in which Luffy is as smart as the rest of the crew (in different ways than them obviously), but that would call for several more paragraphs, so I'll just cut it here I think.

Anyways tell me what y'all think, I'm curious.

[arscorpii]

episode 12 / episode 34

episode 12 / episode 37

there were several similarities i noted between the two episodes (12 and 34):

within the specific scenes: both touga and akio reached out and touched utena's left hand with their left hands, but touga covered her hand with his, while akio took her hand into his. in episode 12, utena and touga were accompanied by anthy and wakaba (during the day, out in the open cafeteria), while in episode 34, utena and akio were alone in akio's room (during the night); anthy was aware of it, but she was in her and utena's room and couldn't do much about the matter. anthy also couldn't do much for utena in episode 12 due to the rules of the rose seal (she was engaged to touga). also, the two scenes in episodes 12 and 34 took place after very tragic incidents happened to utena: losing the duel to touga, and consequently, losing anthy as her rose bride versus akio raping her (unarguably even more tragic).

correlation with utena's sense of self: in episode 12, utena tried (and succeeded) to take back who she was via a rematch (losing to touga made her doubt who she was as a person). who utena was as a person at this point may be referring to the role of a prince that she was able to truly embody due to her engagement to the rose bride (e.g., utena saving anthy in episode 3 from anthy's dress incident and then dancing together, utena saving anthy who was trapped in a coffin in episode 9). or, more like how the engagement with the rose bride allowed utena to be more/most like herself, one of which would be largely comprised of the princely ideals she adopted/learned and idealised (as told in her monologue of meeting the prince; utena also said she wanted to be a noble prince who saves princesses in episode 1) (i'm not sure for this part).

in episode 34, we learned the real reason utena had the rose crest ring, the real reason utena wanted to become a prince: to save a little girl suffering a fate worse than death. ultimately, in both situations (episodes 12 and 34), anthy influenced utena's sense of self, to an extent. regarding the prince, taking into account the context of episode 11, i'm quite sure utena still believed that touga was her prince in episode 12. meanwhile, episode 34 gave us (more) indisputable confirmation that akio was the prince that utena met in her past (this fact was heavily hinted at since episode 25). however, i don't think utena made the connection yet at that point. nevertheless, as a whole, in both situations, touga and akio were framed as utena's prince (to utena [episode 12] versus to the audience [episode 34]).

a common conflict/theme underlying both scenes was the pressure of conforming to ideal gender identities and presentations. this was evident in the scene with touga (complimenting utena's girl uniform and asking her out). however, it's infinitely more severe with akio because he was actively grooming utena to that end; some events of this episode were just parts of the long process (in the specific scene: asking if they're friends, mentioning that she didn't take off her ring "that night," trying to kiss her). in addition, the visuals of both touga and akio somewhat covering utena's rose crest ring with their hand gestures could be seen as analogous to them trying to suppress/diminish her princely ideals/role (touga said that losing the duel gave utena a chance at being a normal girl; he then actively tried persuading utena to this end, i.e., the compliment on the uniform and the ask for a date. moreover, touga critised utena for not knowing about the true power of the rose bride when she "fancied herself as anthy's prince." also, to reiterate: akio brought up the fact that utena didn't take off her ring when he raped her while stroking the ring; he expected that that event would be sufficient for utena to take it off [give up the role of the prince]).

i think episode 12 is an interesting foreshadowing/parallelism of some kind for later events in the final arc, with regard to utena/touga/anthy and utena/akio/anthy dynamics.

[alinaastarkov]

i'm not a shipper, but i think it's blatantly obvious that grmm has something big n impactful for jonrya. we're talking about two main characters, created to complement each other from the beginning. if she were a little older, i think ppl would be more willing to at least try to analyze the text. and i suspect that, deep down... fans noticed, but prefer to pretend they didn't. like at some point, you have to ask yourself why grrm felt it necessary to revisit old ideas n make jon live a semi-triangle through his perspective that also maximizes so many emotions. jon is a v passionate young boy when it comes to arya. while the other stark children think fondly of each other, they have all this intense stuff involving soul n heart. ultimately he chose arya. his heart is his sister and his sister is his heart. and the heart is all that matters. how ridiculously obvious is that? lol we already know that he and arya are outsiders, that they are each other's favorite person. it's redundant to keep hammering the reader like that. plus using the love vs duty card at this point in the story implies that if the theme comes back, it won't have the same narrative impact bc that alternative has already been used, just like if he died again for someone else it wouldn't have the same impact either. grrm isn't exactly a subtle writer, when he feels inspired, he just writes. as he wrote: each other's memories prevent them from giving themselves completely to organizations that demand detachment from the past. jon thinks that arya's home is with him. he was tormented over her. why do their stories need to be so intertwined in affc and adwd? what implications could his dying thought associated her will bring after the resurrection? how will their already close relationship be reconfigured? could they save each other after they meet again and connect with their true selves? these are questions that many fans don't seem ready to discuss. although, if that's part of grrm's plan. it will happen eventually. he might just take the platonic route with undertones. easy as hell. in a series full of incest, a brother ends up being accused of stealing a bride and apparently nothing rings in the heads of fans who are always so dedicated to looking for the smallest details to validate dumb ass theories looool. it's bc they simply don't want to see. the crazy parallels with rhaegar (black heart/stark maiden) are also not subtle either. as i said, i don't even consider myself a shipper, i prefer jon/val and i like arya/gendry. however, these pairings obviously don't carry the same emotional weight as jonarya and weren't even set up as endgame initially, ppl liking it or not. and grrm has already confirmed that he's going for the endings he's had in mind since 1991, so these two will inevitably be more important in their respective endings than secondary characters created later. and frankly, everyone knows that they choose each other before any possible love interests. be fucking realist. it's grmm's story. there's definitely something planned for them and has put a lot of attention on their relationship for a reason. jonrya foreshadowing is so thick that i cannot see how ppl can ignore them

you are absolutely right, anon. george at no point has scrapped his ideas for these two, and in fact made it more prevalent. they've been bonded since childhood, both outsiders, honourable, listened the most to ned's lessons, stubborn, kind, have a shared journey of losing identity (something all the key 5 go through actually which can be added to the list of reasons they are still the key 5), george even made them unique in looking alike. i could go on. he wrote them both with the other in mind.

forgive me if i'm getting the numbers wrong but i think jon thinks of arya something like 47 times? and that's in 42 chapters. on average he thinks about her at least once a chapter. crazy work. arya in turn thinks about jon around 42 times across her 34 chapters. frankly, arguments that george isn't going that way, isn't highlighting their bond especially or for a particular reason, are being purposefully obtuse. and they absolutely have noticed, lol. this is why every jonsa theory rests on jonrya material, quotes about arya, arya's storyline and themes or jon's love for arya. jon and arya's entire relationship is apparently just a red herring. they simultaneously insist there's nothing romantic and that we're gross, but also take "what do you know of my heart, priestess?" and pretend it's about sansa because deep down they know it's the most romantic thing ever. it's why they insist sansa will be the girl in grey or that sansa replaced arya in the original outline's love triangle despite no evidence of this. suddenly we're supposed to believe jon-arya-tyrion became jon-sansa-tyrion despite jon never thinking of sansa, and jon spending adwd fighting imaginary duels with ramsay for arya's honour. the outline also makes clear arya's in love with jon not tyrion, so who's to say it wasn't always meant to be a love triangle from jon's perspective only, lol?

i would absolutely agree that it's becoming redunant with how often he hammers it home if the fandom wasn't like this. as it is, most of the fandom still isn't getting in. he needs to be more insane about them actually. and the constant assertion that the girl in grey, or jon's betrayal for love will happen again shows such a misreading of the text. they've recognised the devotion jon has for arya, but because they don't like her that can only be platonic, and that devotion will be transferred onto whoever they like best and this time it will be romantic, duh. as if he's gonna repeat storylines exactly just with a different character this time.

and yeah, this doesn't have to lead to anything more than a deep, platonic bond and endgame where they at least won't be apart from each other. but to insist jon and arya are platonic and "not that deep", "he loves his whole family," etc. and then literally replace arya in the story with x character is unbelievably stupid and annoying.

[bones4thecats]

Hello!

If requests are open, I'd like to send one in. Hear me out: the Octavinelle squad and the Pomefiore squad with a reader who makes jewelry. And one day they make something especially for them (A pin or a bracelet or something)

A/N: Apologies that this took so long, Anon! But I do hope you enjoy this piece~~

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👑 Your beautiful boyfriend has watched you make your jewelry for quite some time

👑 The way you would mold something worthless into something gorgeous in the matter of minutes to maybe hours was impressive to him

👑 His birthday was something that was quite popular around NRC, and all of Twisted Wonderland, so you’d expect him to get stuff sent to him all the time

👑 And you were correct

👑 But when he finally retired for the night, in favor to spend time with you, his gorgeous S/O, he smiled when you handed him a box wrapped in shimmery purple paper, with a cute little jewel bow

👑 Opening it was fun for him, the way your eyes lit up when he held up the headpiece was amazing

“ My Dear, this is beautiful, thank you very much. “

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🏹 Rook always sprung surprise gifts onto you, so you decided to put your love of crafting to use

🏹 He always loved to watch you make your pieces whenever vice-housewarden duties didn’t burden him

🏹 When you walked up to him and held out a decently sized box with a beautiful ribbon with an arrow made out of it and he smiled

🏹 How sweet was his S/O?

🏹 When he opened the box and saw the beautiful necklaces you had made, he gasped and began to rant on how gorgeous they were, and how we couldn’t bear wearing them, they weren’t even on the same level as formal pieces

🏹 They were far above!

🏹 And, true to his nature, he pulled out a small box and showed you a necklace with a bow and arrow on it, which made him laugh fairly loud, different from his more formal one used around others

“ I guess we are soulmates, mon bijou! “

Mon Bijou ~ My Jewel

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🍎 Epel always was hard to make gifts for, he wanted to seem manly, but was organized in a, in his words, “prissy and preppy dorm”

🍎 So, when his birthday approached, you had made him a gorgeous ring with amethyst and steel, and you knew he’d like it

🍎 While the rest of the first years laughed and joked with one another, you grabbed your boyfriend before handing him the small ring box, with the words on a tag saying, ‘For my one and only <3’

🍎 That was enough to fluster the country boy

🍎 But seeing the ring you had made turned his face nearly full red, you could’ve compared him to Riddle!

🍎 He smiled and allowed you to put the ring on his finger

🍎 It may not be completely manly, but Epel can put this behind him, just once

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🐙 Azul was a hard one to give thing to, as he believed he didn’t need them as much as others

🐙 It was one of his faults he gained from bullying

🐙 But you wanted to make him something that would both go with his outfit and not attract to much attention to

🐙 And obviously be unique, you needed to give him something original

🐙 It took quite a while, but on your monthly anniversary, you handed him the ring and he just blushed and laughed as he gave you one as well

🐙 You guys put them on each other and the tweels teased on how it was like a scene at a wedding

🐙 He never took it off afterwards, unless it was necessary, he doesn’t want his S/O’s precious work damaged

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🍄 This guy, whoa

🍄 You have made him feel welcomed with his odd fungi obsession, so he has encouraged your wish of jewelry-making

🍄 Jade has given you many different things that he finds fit for either your dorm room or for you personally, like a mushroom themed hair pin

🍄 This tweel never really expected much when it came to physical objects in return, he was quite content with basic affection, whether it be verbal or physical

🍄 So when you messaged him one afternoon after school, saying you had something for him on his walk, he was intrigued

🍄 Smiling when he saw you, he asked what the immediate meeting was about

🍄 Handing him the necklace was hard, as it was difficult to tell his emotions

🍄 He looked at the piece of jewelry and chuckled lowly

“ My delicate S/O, you really do listen to me. Mushrooms and the most beautiful chain, you truly are amazing. Oh, what did I ever do to deserve you? ”

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🎭 Floyd never really gave you anything material, his love language was mainly physical affection or his constant teasing

🎭 But when he learned of your craft made him laugh

🎭 He really does admire how much patience you have to make these dazzling pieces in time

🎭 Whenever he saw something he liked, he’d rant about how amazing they are, before eventually leaving, per messages of Azul or Jade for skipping work or something random, Sevens knows

🎭 Floyd was just hanging out with you on his birthday when you asked him about the extra mark by his ear

🎭 He just smiled and said when he was younger he pierced his ear with a paperclip (not canon, but I thought that sounded cute)

🎭 That was when you got the idea, an earring, and thankfully, you were wearing a moray eel earring

🎭 Taking the object out and handing it to him made him freeze and ask what you were doing

🎭 This tweel brother just laughed at your answer, “For your birthday, of course.” You said

🎭 He grabbed it and pierced it through the hole, exclaiming how amazing you were and asking,

“ Oh my tiny S/O, what did I ever do to deserve you? ”

[lamialamia]

We have a problem: why am I watching this sex scene again?

Ah. Sex scenes. You wild wild beast. The crossroad of many discourses and analyses and opinions and essays and now, here I am, a mere casual ww2 rpf fan, throwing my own hat to the ring. In this blog post I'm going to talk once more about sex scenes -- two in particular -- and why the eff one of them matters, making the ww2 rpf more compelling and the other did not.

Disclaimer: Whether or not sex scenes are needed in media in general or the right way to implement them across the vast spectrum of art is not part of this discussion. Please keep in mind I'm trying to complain about the writing decision in the small scope of the HBO War shows.

I have discussed the problem with the Crosby/Sandra plot line in a previous analysis here. But I think the problem with it requires another (and maybe a third) write-up. Here, I want to talk about why the tiny sex scene between Crosby and Sandra in episode 7 is a waste of screen time.

So, we have the sex scene in MOTA episode 7. It is somewhat explicit and it was clear it is consensual and that the people who are fucking is very into it. In comparison to other sex scenes in HBO War fandom, it doesn't exactly stands out to me with just the imagery of the act (of course this is a personal opinion, whether or not I find a sex scene hot or bad or corny or lovely or [insert adjective here] is not universal).

However, my problem with this sex scene between Crosby and Sandra is that it doesn't matter to the story.

After getting it on with Sandra, and then after she left him, Crosby never talked about this affair in anyway. Not over the narration, expressing some kind of sentiment over it, not with Rosie or any other guy, so me, the audience, have no idea what he think about it or how he might be affected about it. We didn't know what Sandra think or feel about it either because her scenes are about her spy works and that's it.

You might say: well he doesn't have to tell us how he feel if the show can demonstrate to us the same thing.

Yet, MOTA never did that. Furthermore, the show never portray the sex between them matters to the characters beyond getting their rocks off. And then, the sex doesn't matter to the theme of the episode nor the overall theme of the show either. It's just something that happened.

(Sad to say that maybe this sub-plot distracts me from the rest of episode 7 and 8)

This might be consider 'realistic'. In real life, people can have sex just for the joy of it. Which is true, but in a drama mini-series, the choices to include or exclude details must take in consideration whether what is on screen is valuable to the story the show is trying to tell. Why are they including this sex scene instead of the hundred other real life details that don't make the cut? We don't have a training montage for the pilots, we never learn how Quinn and Bailey get back to base from Germany, we never have the D-Day invasion sequence,...

Let's have a comparison to another sex scene.

In The Pacific episode 3, Sidney Phillips met Gwen in Melbourne and started a romance with her that ended in them having sex before he got shipped back to Pavuvu. Personally for me, it wasn't an awesome sex scene either. Both Gwen and Sidney were awkward, they kissed and the entire thing ended with him kissing her bare shoulder.

But what truly matter happened latter. When Eugene arrived in Pavuvu and reunited with Sidney, he asked Sidney about what combat was like. And to answer this, Sidney mentioned him sleeping with Gwen not to brag about his sexual conquest but to make a comparison with the brutal battles he survived.

Despite the fact that the two of them grew up together, in just a small amount of times, Sidney have been through things and done things Eugene hadn't. All of that (both combat and his brief romance with Gwen) had changed Sidney to the point that Eugene could not longer connect with him. There was now a chasm between them. Eugene looked at his friend and tried to understand him but couldn't. There were things that must be experienced to be understood.

And then, Eugene himself went through life-changing events. The war changed him so much that when he returned to Mobile, he once again couldn't connect with Sidney

Or his brother (who was in the Army and was in the euro theatre) -- another person who had gone through the war himself.

Both Sidney and Eugene's older brother had returned home before him while Eugene had just came back, fresh off the board with his mental wounds, and it showed the chasm had formed between him and these two men who supposed to shared this brutal experience with Eugene.

In fact his brother specifically mentioned how Eugene is still a virgin, which highlight further how he was 'missing out' on that particular experience that both these men have.

And this all started when we were still following H company and witnessed Sidney and Gwen having sex. That small thing compounded over time. It snowballed into all these differences and distance that Sidney would have with Eugene, and then Eugene would be having against his own hometown, his brother, his family, and his best friend. It served to show how war had did its number on Eugene in many ways.

The sex scene between Sidney and Gwen mattered to the story, it served a narrative purpose eventually.

Crosby and Sandra's sex scene did not. And to include it meant there would be less screen time for any other story line, leaving not just the sub-plot of Crosby's arc weaker, but the other ones as well. Overall, this creative decision left MOTA a weaker show in term of its writing.

[spectrumos]

Moore and the Forager Brood

really throw a big moral wrench into the idea of cutting off the Outer Gods completely.

The two most difficult parts of any Gods in Elden Ring being worshipped at all is

The absurd exploitation of their worshippers

The forcible enacting of that worship.

It's easy to look at what they do as something explicitly evil because of these things. The Formless Mother is literally a predator. She preys on the rejected downtrodden and vulnerable of society.

In exchange for pain and blood, she gives... That part's vague.

Like, I enjoy blood as much as the next person, but there's the eroticism of vampires and the exploitation of masses. (Yeah, I know there's a lot of vampires exploiting masses. I get it, dark shit be hot, whatever.)

Of course there's the Bloodfiends of the Shadow Lands and the lore around the fly people. Seriously continuing the theme of predatory shit.

I aint into mommy kink abuse goddess, okay? Okay!

But The rot!

fucking rots all life it encounters until it's own life is born from it, which is obviously simply a massive, dense, and somehow both alien and familiar feeling version of pretty much all life. (to a degree)

Alien in that while rot is normal, Scarlet Rot is very much not. Rot is a natural process and scarlet rot is pretty much an invasive species that is extremely difficult to stop.

But there's such beauty in it! Malenia says we'll witness true horror when we fight her, but when she blooms, the Goddess of Rot she becomes is a literal fucking butterfly angel!

Ultimately that beauty is hollow, because Malenia never wanted to be that. She had to abandon entire fractions of her very self to bloom in Caelid. She was chosen to be the vessel for a capital G God before she was even born. (Because of Radagon breaking his vow to Rennala, I might add.)

The Rot is so easy to hate, for good reason. But Moore and his kin are fucking heartbreaking. Malenia's rejection of her curse rejects the life it creates.

The kindred brood continues to worship no matter what. They don't really care about her rejection and continues to expand.

The forager brood accepted her rejection, no matter how much it hurt.

Moore is literally a single fucking conversation option from death when Miquella's charm breaks.

All of this new information on Moore and the Forager Brood really just adds to the consistent theme of Elden Ring in that there's almost no such thing is inherent evil, and that good can come from evil.

I firmly view the Formless Mother and the God of Rot as mostly evil beings.

But if finding a way to cut them off kills the life they create?

I'm not so sure I could do it anymore.

[mesu-senshi]

Title: "Be Still, My Giant Heart" part 6

______________________________________________________________

Pairing: Konig x Reader

Theme: Comedy, Romance, Fluff

Trope: Arranged Marriage (end?)

______________________________________________________________

The last two months had passed in a blur of anticipation and longing. König had been on base, keeping himself busy with missions and training, but his mind was never fully focused. All he could think about was you, back home in Austria, preparing for the wedding you both knew was coming.

He missed you more than words could express. The days without your gentle presence beside him had felt like an eternity. Every time he picked up his phone, he hoped for a message, a picture, something to remind him that you were still just as eager for the life you’d promised to each other.

He would count down the days until he could join you at last.

______________________________________________________________

The day had finally come.

König stood in the back of the church, his heart racing in his chest. He had prepared himself for this moment, the moment when he would finally see you again, but nothing could have truly prepared him for the overwhelming emotion that surged through him as the doors opened and the aisle began to fill with light.

And then there you were.

In a white dress, radiant and beautiful, your smile brighter than he had ever seen it. You were walking down the aisle, your eyes locked on him from across the room, a look of pure joy in them. And before he knew it, you were almost running toward him, your heart just as eager to reach him as his was to reach you.

König’s breath caught in his throat as you finally stood before him, your smile so wide it made his heart ache with love. You reached up, your hands cupping his face as you beamed at him, your eyes twinkling with affection.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion. “So much.”

König’s large hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him, unable to stop himself from hugging you tightly. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in like you never wanted to let go.

“I missed you too,” he said softly, his voice thick with love and longing. “I thought I might lose my mind without you.”

The moment felt endless, as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you. But eventually, the priest cleared his throat, reminding them both that the ceremony must continue. But even as they went through the vows and rings, the only thing that mattered to König was you—your touch, your smile, the love radiating from you.

When the priest finally declared them husband and wife, König felt a sense of peace settle into his chest. He had always known this moment was coming, but to finally stand here with you, by his side, it felt like a dream come true.

______________________________________________________________

Later that evening, after the reception, König found himself alone with you in the quiet of the hotel suite. The laughter of the guests and the clinking of glasses seemed so distant now, replaced by the warm glow of the candles you had arranged together.

You were standing by the window, gazing out at the moonlit view, but when you heard him approach, you turned to him, your eyes glowing with anticipation.

König stepped toward you slowly, his heart beating faster with each step. There was no fear now, only the certainty of this moment. The time for hesitation, for doubts, was long gone. You were his, and he was yours.

You reached for his hands, tugging him closer to you, your body pressing against his as you whispered his name. “König, I’m ready.”

His heart skipped a beat, his hands shaking just slightly as he cupped your face in his palms, as if you might slip away if he didn’t hold you tightly enough. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “We can wait, I… I want you to be comfortable.”

But your smile was all the reassurance he needed. “I’ve waited long enough, König. I want to be yours, in every way.”

With that, the final walls between them came crashing down.

He kissed you then—slow and soft at first, as if he were savoring every second. But the kiss deepened quickly, fueled by months of longing, a hunger that had only grown in the time they’d spent apart. König’s hands roamed gently over your back, pulling you closer, until your bodies were pressed together with an urgency neither of you could deny.

You both shed the remnants of your clothing, feeling exposed, yet so incredibly safe in each other’s arms. König’s touch was gentle but insistent, as if he were reassuring himself that you were truly there, truly his.

You, in turn, held onto him with the same fervor, your hands trailing down the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. You kissed him again, and again, as if you could never get enough, both of you lost in the sensation of finally, truly, being together.

And when the time came, when the moment of consummation arrived, it was nothing short of perfect. There was no rush, no pressure, just a deep, quiet connection that left you both breathless and whole. König was tender with you, holding you close, every touch filled with love and reverence.

As the night unfolded, neither of you could quite put into words the depth of the bond you shared now. But in the quiet after, as you both lay in each other’s arms, tangled in the sheets, you knew that this—this—was everything.

You turned to him, your head resting on his chest as you traced your fingers over the tattoos on his arm, the rhythm of his heartbeat calming your racing mind.

“We’re finally here,” you whispered.

König smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, we are. And we’re never leaving.”

You could feel the truth in his words, a promise, an assurance that this was only the beginning of forever. Together.

And as the night wore on, you both drifted into a peaceful sleep, knowing that tomorrow would come with its own challenges, its own joys. But you would face them together, side by side, always.

Forever.

[sebsxphia]

Thinking about preacher!rhett wearing little lambs purity ring on a necklace around his neck…and wearing it in front of their father 🤭

￫ a/n: JENNA YOU SICK— your wish is my command baby 🤭 ilysm <3 a short drabble for the ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ universe.

￫ c/w: heavy religious themes and preacher!rhett abbott.

it’s not like your parents made any big deal out of your purity ring anyway. you went to college and back, and still you only wore it on formal occasions, especially for church. it was perfectly fine when your preacher toyed with it on your finger, as you sat on his naked lap in his desk chair, in his back office. right?

your bodies stuck together with thick sweat from rhett taking you over his desk. you were both coming down from your individual highs and floating in the post-orgasm haze, and his attention drew to your ring. he rung it around your finger a handful of times before slipping it off and twisting it in his own. he placed it down on his desk and slid it across.

“y’ don’t need this anymore, do you? y’ don’t wan’ bein’ seen with it on when we both know it’s not true?”

“no…. but, what if people ask, like my parents?”

“whatever y’ daddy says, it don’t matter. only you ‘nd i know the truth. y’ tell them you’ve given yourself to God, ‘nd you have, haven’t you, little lamb? to me?”

you sucked in your bottom lip and hummed in agreement. in return rhett placed a soft kiss to your cheek, feeling his stubble and slick hair tickle against your skin.

“‘atta girl. i’ll keep it safe. somewhere only me ‘nd you are to know.”

and you trusted your preacher, like always.

so when the next sunday rolled around and you caught rhett by the table holding refreshments, narrowly avoiding having to hold the conversation he was having with your dad, your mind raced to believed that your parents still wouldn’t make a big deal out of your purity ring. especially considering that it was now hanging off a gold chain, wrapped around preacher abbott’s neck and poking out of the button on his shirt.

“rhett… what the fu—”

your tone was hushed and harsh, but with an edge of panic to it. you’d both always been so careful together and your heart began to race at the prospect of your guidance with preacher abbott coming to a screeching halt.

“it’s safe. somewhere only me ‘nd you know is under this shirt. behave. besides, your da’ thought it was a ring from some girl out state. you’re not bein’ taken from me ‘nytime soon, little lamb.”

by the end of the sentence and the sweet name that he called you, his mouth was hot by your ear and his voice was a low growl. your heart was now racing at how close he was to you in such a public proximity. you could feel your throat closing up, your mouth drying, but all the while, your thighs clenched. goosebumps trailed over the back of your neck and rhett drew back with a smirk so slick, no man, or God could hide it.

the last thing he whispered close to you ear, with his eyes darting around the room to make a swift and calculated move, was, “you’ll see y’ ring again after we clear up here, darlin’.”

[asteroidzzzn]

stargirl | part 3

pairing: rockstar!ellie x bartender!reader

warnings: cursing, smoking, eventual sexual themes, ellies kinda an asshole, reader is delulu (are u sensing a pattern here)

songs in this chapter: crybaby - the neighborhood rip 2 my youth - the neighborhood knee socks - arctic monkeys true blue - boygenius cool about it - boygenius why'd you only call me when you're high - arctic monkeys

word count: 2.1k

a/n: i just couldn't resist

summary: the fireflies is a new band consisting of three people. after being cheated out by their former bassist, they needed to find a replacement, and quick. who better than you, the cute bartender that hasn't touched an instrument in years?

fireflies gc🌟

dina <3: you guys better prepare i have great news

your phone flickered with dina's message as it lay on your chest. the ringing broke the unbearable silence between you and ellie.

ellie sat on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, scribbling in her journal. you figured it must be some sacred text, considering how she never let anyone read it but herself. it probably included random blurbs and ideas, but she would only let the rest of the band see the finished versions of her writing.

you interlaced your fingers together. cracked your knuckles. looked around the room. twirled your finger in the stray string hanging off the bottom of your shirt. pulled it. you were very bored.

dina had urged you to be early to practice today, but she got caught with jesse in traffic on the way. she was an estimated fifteen more minutes away. leaving you and ellie alone. together.

"dina says she has great news for us," you told her. you got no response.

her eyebrows furrowed and she flipped her pencil around, erasing a whole half page of information, flicking the excess off that landed on her shirt. it was the third time she erased a major section. you figured she had writer's block.

"can i read what you have so far?"

"no," she responded promptly, not taking her eyes off the paper.

"but i could help."

"no, you couldn't."

"rip out a page for me."

"what?"

she looked at you like you killed her whole family.

"yeah, could i try writing something?"

"you—ugh. sure, fine, knock yourself out," she flipped to the back and handed you an uneven sheet of paper. you grabbed a stray pen from the coffee table.

"have you ever written a song before?" she folded her arms and leaned against the arm of the couch to face you.

you hesitated. "one."

"about?"

"an ex," you mumbled, embarrassed at the recollection of your angsty teen attempt at writing a sad love song.

she groaned, shoved her pencil into her journal, and shut it aggressively. now that she was done with her own writing, she seemed to want to bother you about yours.

"let me read the lyrics. or listen to it," she said while throwing her journal somewhere to the ground.

"only if you let me read one of your songs."

she scoffed. "ultimatums are rude."

"you've probably done worse," you bit back.

she couldn't argue with you. she waited for you to pull up the doc to the lyrics before she gave you the journal. she reached for your phone, but you pulled it back before she could grasp it.

"i don't want feedback. it's old and bad and i'm aware. also there are three on this, so i get to read three of yours."

"fair enough about the feedback. thought we agreed on one for one, though?"

"i know you well enough to know you'd read the other two anyways."

she tilted her head down to smile out of your sight, but you caught it before it was hidden. "yeah, you're not wrong," she dropped her journal in your lap and you handed her your phone.

it was very vulnerable for both of you. song lyrics tend to be very intimate and personal. you hoped she liked them. but also that she wouldn't share her thoughts.

her opinion mattered an odd amount to you.

you noticed her fingers tapping on your phone. her knee bounced. maybe she was just as nervous as you. you wondered if you were the first person she shared this part of herself with. probably not. but the thought lingered on your mind for a while.

you carefully opened her journal to where the pen was. apparently, this was also her sketchbook. countless messy faces, animals, and instruments littered the pages, to the point where there was no blank space left.

there were only eraser marks on the right page, and a song titled crybaby on the left.

crybaby didn't seem like it was written by ellie. it was too...honest. it revealed things about her. while reading the lyrics, you felt connected to her. you understood what she was feeling.

crybaby (name is work in progress).

i think i try too hard

how i look, what i do, what i'm sayin'

i spend too much time explainin' myself

i hope there's a chance some time to change it

you glanced at her beside you. she avoided your eyes, continuing to scroll on your phone, knees tucked up to her chest.

note: keys heavy for this song.

i've got this anxious feeling

but it goes away for a minute when I'm with you, being breathing

i can't fake it i can taste it, my heart's breakin', please don't say

that you know, when you know

you flipped to the page before it, with two new songs.

(??? no name)

note: shit ton of treble or i'll sound dumb

i don't believe it if i don't know you

i don't believe it if it's on the news or on the internet

i need a cigarette

i'm just telling what's true the truth

and you could play this at my funeral

tell ******, "don't cry and don't be sad

i'm in paradise with dad"

close my eyes and then cross my arms

put me in the dirt, let me be with the stars

you almost wanted to stop. it was too personal. you skipped to the third song.

knee socks

when the zeros line up on the 24 hour clock

when you know who's callin' even though the number is blocked

when you walked around our your house wearin' my sky blue lacoste

and your knee socks

note: this part repeats like 4 times. we'll see. maybe would sound cool with reverb?

you and me could have been a team

(zeros)

each had a half of a king and queen seat

(lined up)

like the beginnin' of mean streets

you could be my baby

you cleared your throat.

"i'm done."

ellie nodded, lip in between her teeth. "almost done."

you waited for a few more minutes, trying to remember which three songs you wrote all those years ago, and imagined what she was thinking at that exact moment.

"ok, i'm done too," she gave you your phone, and you handed her the journal. there was a moment when neither of you dared to breathe too loud.

"so... what did you think?" she asked, not moving her head up from her lap.

"oh? thought you didn't want feedback?"

"only if it's good."

"well, then i couldn't say anything," you teased her, which drew out a chuckle.

"i'll only tell you good things, too."

you sighed. "ok. you first."

the two of you shifted on the couch to face each other. you propped your head on your hand, staring at her with anticipation.

it was a long moment before she spoke. "true blue is really good, and cool about it is... kind of tragic. why'd you only call me when you're high is a fucking mouthful of a title, but the lyrics aren't bad."

you smiled. "so, which one was your favorite? and why?"

"depends on my mood. if i'm...angry, i guess, or bitter is the better word. it's why'd you only call me when you're high. if i'm sad it's true blue. even more sad, it's cool about it. that's an evil song, man. like really. heartbreaking."

you shrugged. "i tend to have that effect on women."

"yeah, whatever," ellie rolled her eyes. "tell me about mine."

"it's kind of the same for you, actually. a sad-ish one, evil and heartbreaking, and a little angry."

"and your favorite?"

"definitely crybaby."

she groaned in disgust and covered her face with her hands.

"damn, i thought i ripped that page out. that one sucks."

"i thought it was great. it's honest. and relatable."

she scoffed and turned away from you. you had noticed it was a habit of hers to avoid the situation when she became defensive. and being rude usually never helped. "yeah, totally relatable—"

"i'm serious, ellie. you're a good writer. they're good lyrics. why haven't you performed it yet?"

"it's not really your business."

but it is, you wanted to say. you were part of this band too, now. but she didn't act like it, and it made you furious. you sighed. it wasn't worth it to start a fight now.

"ok, fine," you at least made it evident in your voice that you were disappointed. ellie had let you read her journal, but it wasn't enough. you wanted more. to learn everything about her. to figure out who she really was.

it was extremely difficult to accept the fact that it would most likely take a very long time.

in almost perfect timing, dina and jesse pushed through the door.

"guys, i am so sorry, traffic was a bitch and i had to pick something up for us."

you shook your head, "don't worry about it. come on, sit down," you moved to the left slightly so dina could take up the space in between you and ellie. jesse took the white box dina held into his own lap and sad on the floor near the couch.

"so? what's the big news?" you asked dina, who was beaming.

"this is huge for us, it could mean—jesse, don't open the box yet. i haven't told them."

jesse swiftly placed a cupcake back inside the box. "sorry, i'm hungry."

dina continued, "ok. drumroll, please."

everyone patted their thighs.

"we're going on tour with the fucking strokes! we'll open for three of their shows on the east coast in two months!"

"oh my god..." you breathed. "that's huge!"

ellie blinked. "you're serious?"

dina nodded fervently. "yeah, dude. we could get so much recognition for this. it's the opportunity of a lifetime."

you brought your hand to cover your mouth, and realized you were shaking. were you ready for this? would they find a better bassist to go on the tour? would you become famous? no... this was a part-time thing. just something on the side.

you swallowed, and spoke just barely loud enough for them to hear.

"would you want me to go...or....?"

the three turned to you, unsure of what to say. you had made it clear you were simply a temporary fix for the real bassist that would be joining the band. and you would leave, and be on with your life.

dina bit the inside of her cheek, eyebrows furrowed. "that's up to you. i... i'm not sure we could find a different bassist in the next month and a half that's like... you. y'know? don't feel pressured, though. we could make—"

"i want you in the band," jesse shared while licking the sprinkles off of a blue cupcake. "you're basically already in it, anyways. not much would change. think about it, we'd love for you to be apart of it officially. right, guys?"

ellie and dina shared a quick look. dina nodded, "of course."

"yeah," ellie added, giving a brief, small smile.

your heart raced. this would change everything. but you were willing to try.

"ok. i want to stay. i'll go on the tour with you."

dina pulled you into a hug.

"welcome to the fireflies, y/n. for real this time. now, let's get to work."

༊*·˚

the next sixty days flew by before your eyes. you sat down with the band and allowed them to read one of your songs. you did a bit of revising, and they loved it.

you urged ellie to share knee socks with the others, telling her that it was the perfect "tour song", and that everyone would adore it. she didn't understand what you meant. she did it anyways.

it was two days before your departure to the first destination: seattle, washington. you had to take a few weeks of leave from work to go on tour. your boss was very understanding. with a laugh, you promised you would remember her when you were out and about as a famous rockstar signing tits.

ellie, dina, and jesse sat on the floor on their phones. you yawned and gripped the couch to help you stand up. as soon as you were upright, you fell back down again.

with your face pressed into the cushions, you mumbled, "g'night."

dina chuckled. "you want a ride home so you can sleep in your bed? that couch probably has rabies and it feels like a rock."

"don't care," you sighed, sinking into it.

after a few minutes, you had nearly drifted off to sleep. you suddenly felt a chilling leather material cover your upper body. you heard someone sit down.

"aw, you're so sweet, taking care of her," dina teased under her breath.

"shut up," ellie whispered back immediately.

"just saying."

"a—what's that supposed to mean?"

their voices became fuzzy as you drifted into sleep.

"whatever you make it mean."

a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ellie putting her leather jacket over reader when she's asleep oh i'm ill i need a doctor ASAP! hope u enjoyed !!!!!!!!!! so excited to write the next chapter i'll actually die. i do need to go to sleep rn tho it's 12:44am so, goodnight (❁´◡`❁) also,,,,, since reader's officially part of the band now should i change the pairing? since she's not a bartender anymore,, really,,,, i don't know.

taglist: @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @elliesinterlude

[youthofpandas]

Cathy and The Mirror; what's up with that?

spoilers for Part 1 (and only part 1) ahead!

Okay so Catherine and her mirror has been on my mind nonstop since I finished Part 1. Quick recap, after falling into a near madness like depression after marrying Linton, one day she is back to normal (mostly) just like that. We see in her diary that at some point she was visited by a 'guest' and after that was able to clear her head and see her reflection again normally. It's unclear when exactly this happens in relation to Linton's gift of a flower that Nelly says was the point Cathy's illness went away, but given the fact Nelly was unaware of the diary, I think that these two events were relatively close to each other.

This bit is inspired by the point in the book when Catherine came down with a similar sort of illness after Edgar attempts her to have her pick between their relationship continuing and her friendship with Heathcliff. The thought of being forced to give up one terrifies and upsets her, and she stops eating and locks herself in her room. When Nelly checks on her, she cannot recognize herself in the mirror.

“Don’t you see that face?” she inquired, gazing earnestly at the mirror. And say what I could, I was incapable of making her comprehend it to be her own; so I rose and covered it with a shawl. “It’s behind there still!” she pursued, anxiously. “And it stirred. Who is it? I hope it will not come out when you are gone! Oh! Nelly, the room is haunted! I’m afraid of being alone!” I took her hand in mine, and bid her be composed; for a succession of shudders convulsed her frame, and she would keep straining her gaze towards the glass. “There’s nobody here!” I insisted. “It was yourself, Mrs. Linton: you knew it a while since.” “Myself!” she gasped, “and the clock is striking twelve! It’s true, then! that’s dreadful!” Her fingers clutched the clothes, and gathered them over her eyes. I attempted to steal to the door with an intention of calling her husband; but I was summoned back by a piercing shriek—the shawl had dropped from the frame. “Why, what is the matter?” cried I. “Who is coward now? Wake up! That is the glass—the mirror, Mrs. Linton; and you see yourself in it, and there am I too by your side.”

There's a lot we could talk about here, but for this I'm going to focus on the theme of her losing her identity when she is confronted with the thought of losing Heathcliff. The two are, of course, constantly referring to each other as the holder of their heart, that their souls are made of the same thing, etc. They are not the same person but they are very deeply linked, and without the other they lose themself too.

I believe this idea is relevant to Limbus Cathy because well, the theme of Identity is very strong throughout the game, your relationship to yourself and your dreams is where both EGOs and Distortions stem from + Mirror Worlds are of course massive in this game, there are worlds where things went just a little differently and ones where roles are reversed and etc. So for Cathy to find herself again and then have a line like "I know what to do now. The basement. We… must descend there." is a bit concerning for her! and Heathcliff!

Real quick I need to mention the obvious comparison to be made here: Yi Sang and Sang Yi

There's been a lot of references to The Ring and The Glass Mirror/Window in this Canto, calling back to their experiments in Leviathan where they attempted to superimpose countless Identities on a single person - the Dead Rabbits with their masks full of mirrors that shatter when defeated have a unique animation showing off glass shards. Not to mention the hallways of the mansion being like the Corridors that the Ring uses, alterations that Catherine and Linton put in place. I think it's incredibly likely that the 'guest' who visited was a member of the Ring.

Now, Cathy's relationship with her reflection hasn't been fully explored quite yet, but much like Yi Sang after he lost the League, Cathy was incredibly depressed after Heathcliff left - becoming apathetic and finding it difficult to find anything worth caring about. So it's !! It's interesting that we are bringing back up the Mirror right now. Cathy's reflection might not be quite like Yeonsim, but they are certainty filling similar narrative roles of finding comfort in yourself to cope with grief.

I'd also like to bring up the fact we have the Dead Rabbits and pocket watches and a mirror and it all really makes me think of Alice in Wonderland (thank you bell @sunshades for bringing this to my attention when we were theory crafting before the canto came out. ily) and I could very easily see us getting some more Alice stuff in the same way we got Peter Pan references in Canto V. The Ring's corridor technology and whatever is happening in the basement could lead to a lot of wacky environments like Alice goes through in the book and it would be a fun setting to explore!

Now where does this leave us with theories? Well, with all of the Leviathan stuff we could suggest that Cathy is not dead, and has been superimposed with a mirror world Cathy instead making her only effectively dead in the same way Lapis currently is. Or perhaps only the mirror Cathy is left? There is also the relationship The Ring has to the creation of the Peccatulum and the fact the Envy type is still missing - Envy being the sin associated with Heathcliff and if they do have some strange lab situation down there I think we're likely to meet them + Distortion bosses from previous Cantos had designs inspired by the Peccatulum so if anyone but especially Cathy does distort, it's going to be based off of them. And for Cathy I wonder if she is more envious of another Self than of any other person...?

Also for Cathy IDs if it doesn't go to Heathcliff (and seeing that Heathcliff seemed to be...? Normal?? Heathcliff? in the Rabbit Boss Meursault UT story, there's a solid chance they do something weird with his ID this season anyways) I think Yi Sang is the obvious choice. Shout out to Yi Sang Cathy parallels... Makes Sunshower Heathcliff being crazy good in this Canto thanks to the grief all start to make sense now doesn't it? #PotentialManSweep

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

5 and 8 for Jason, and 19 and 21 for Tim?

Hello laufire :D I've seen you around in my notes a fair few times, thank you for the ask!

Jason first bc I am predictable 😌

5. First song that comes to mind for this character?

Dana Dan by Bloodywood! I had it as his theme song long before I started headcanoning him as religiously Hindu and the music video feels all the more appropriate now that I do!

There are a LOT of runners up, sixteen in specific I could name off the top of my head bc I made a whole character playlist for him and I listen to it every time I drive (burned CD in my car :3)

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Hoo boy, that competition is FIERCE lol I try my best not to talk about it in terms of complaints though. That's just not the energy I wanna have most of the time. That being said, since you asked for some salt ye shall receive hehehe!

I think the through line of the most annoying stuff is that people will point at something Jason did in his villain era and twist it wildly out of proportion into something unequivocally EVIL and then everyone else will (incorrectly imo!!!) claim that it's out of character and due to writers that hated him and we should throw it out.

The worst example of this by far is his fight with Mia Dearden

First of all, it was written by JUDD FUCKING WINICK so yeah this was not a matter of an unfavorable writer!! Second of all, I think it's a goddamned masterpiece of a comic, and THE successor to UtRH

So like you have the second Robin, born into grinding poverty, having to commit crime to survive, joining up with a vigilante mentor, and killing someone for the greater good, and then being utterly destroyed... and then you have the second Speedy, born into grinding poverty, having to commit crime to survive, joining up with a vigilante mentor, and killing someone for the greater good, and then growing from that to become a fully fledged hero in her own right! So similar and yet their paths have been so different with Mia healing and becoming even stronger and Jason having been isolated and pushed to villainous extremes.

Then during that confrontation each of them know about the other through hearsay and research, but have never met before. Each make their own assumptions and then prove that they are more than what was assumed of them! Jason makes a deeply flawed but earnest attempt to try and connect with Mia and she rejects it because she has the support he never did and therefore has already long ago grown passed what has destroyed and consumed him!!

And some people REDUCE their fight to just "evil scawy Jason trying to hurt poor widdwe Mia"???????????????????????????? Might I challenge those responsible to a duel of paintball rifles at dawn?!?!?!?

Kinda the entire fucking point of an antagonist is to let the complexities and nuances of the characters shine, and that's doubly true of antagonists that used to be protagonists! Mia and Jason are such amazing narrative foils for each other, and tbh, Jason himself is an extremely good foil in general! On top of that the Arrows have long been foils of the Bats, so Bruce and Ollie also foil each other in the background brilliantly as Jason runs rings around them both!!!!

I would need to start pulling up pictures of comic pages and write a full length essay to get into proper depth with it (And I do intend to eventually!!) but the way they each interact with that fight and with their own histories going into it is great for both characters and it's just... gah... basically my favorite comic ever and it's stuck in this meaningless tug of war over "characterization" from two sides who both mostly haven't read the damned thing, let alone properly dug into the analysis of why Jason did any of that or what it might mean to Mia beyond just being unpleasant...

I would KILL to get DC to let me write a Mia and Jason comic. There's so much fun shit that they could do together, no matter if they were allied or enemies, I'm gonna have to write it as fanfiction tbh, but the fact that Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72 is completely ignored until someone wants to use it as flat proof of 'Jason bad and ur bad for liking him' is just...

Le sigh...

Anyway what the fuck was I doing? Answering an ask lol??

Okay here we go: Timmy Time!

19. A relationship in canon that you don't like?

Its gotta be Steph simply due to how badly it was mishandled. As usual with female characters, I feel like Steph's nuance and strength as a character was in direct conflict with how the authors implemented her narrative role as a love interest. The fact that Tim was flat out casually misogynistic to her for her whole introduction and it wasn't treated properly as a flaw is a deal-breaker for me. The amount of Steph's Wikipedia biography that's Tim's love life makes me want to commit arson. The ship itself in isolation from much of the canon may have potential, and the canon material itself isn't all bad by any means, but to me the relationship still feels like a net loss.

21. I do indeed write, uh, a considerable amount of fanfiction about this dude, so: What's your favorite thing to do in fics when it comes to this character? Something that you don't like?

I like making him more unhinged. Or rather, I interpret his early actions as having been spectacularly unhinged, and like to imagine he kept that energy up into later years. I'm so not interested in Tim being a well adjusted person tbh I want him in my wonderful little Freak 4 Freak ship being spectacularly messed up and incredibly weird with nonsensical ideas about how boundaries work

For what I don't like... Hmmmm, this one's a little hard to answer because most of that falls into the neutral category of stuff I have no interest in writing at all, and so I just don't lol

I suppose I don't like to do apologies, though I have written one. I like to get down into the messy depths of sympathy and resentment by having him talk about those conflicts with the allies that have hurt him. However, I think the direct contrition and simplicity of apologies has less and less appeal to me the more I develop as a writer. Apologies retroactively cement an idea of fault and blame. I think there's more room for exploration in having the characters talk through all of the components of the issue without ever having that particular kind of confrontation.

Thank you very much again for the ask!!! I hope this was a fun read :3

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

TBB s3 ep4 Thoughts!!!

Oooohh starting off strong

Omega immediately wanting to go back because “it’s right”

Crosshair wanting to keep moving, not because he’s scared of going back but because he understands that he can’t help anyone if he’s dead

Ah there he is. The bitch. The Hemcock.

I wanna say Nala Sa deserves to be in prison but idk I’m starting to feel for her

Pretty sure she won’t survive the season though

IM SORRY THAT SHOT WHERE THE COAT IS HANGING OVER THAT POWER LINE???

is that,,,, a reference to yanno,,, shoes hanging from a power line?

hahahahahahah poncho stormtroopers

“You’re the one who wanted to bring… the hound.”

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH

YOUR HONOUR I LOVE THEM

best duo this show has given us

If Hunter was the hesitant but willing dad, Crosshair is the exasperated older brother that was forced to bring his younger sister to the party he was invited to an now has to spent all night watching her

Ey not cool Omega. Someone was using that jacket to advertise their business

“See, isn’t this better?” “No.” “Ugh.”

HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHA

“I could take out half of them before they even know what happened” 😳😳

Yeah, I believe you sir

Damn fuck how many more clone crushes will I have to be burdened with

Jesus Christ

“That went well” “Stow it”

THEM

YOUR HONOUR

THEM!!!

Scottish Robot ahhahahahahaha

Say what you will about Crosshair, when that dude sat down across from Omega he was ready for a FIGHT

big ol’ softie <3

“You or your dad”

Glad Hunter wasn’t there to hear that

Or Crosshair for that matter

Both would’ve blown their cover

Tbh Crosshair makes a fair point about leaving while they can. The planet is filled with Empirials and they are running out of time

But he also hasn’t been part of a team in a while and maybe he’s forgotten some of what that entails too

Either way, loving how “selfless” and “selfish” are meeting in this ep

“I’ll do it your way BUT I WOULD LIKE THE RECORD TO REFECT THAT I DONT WIKE IT!”

Crosshair giving Omega a boost to get over the wall I’m crying

“Shouldn’t we free the other animals too?” “Don’t push it.”

HE IS MY SOULMATE (based on sarcasm. I am vegetarian and I would free those animal friendos in a heartbeat)

The extra head shake and eye roll at that question too, he is already so done I can’t hahahahahahahah

“I hope your take-offs are better than your landings” “we’re about to find out”

Aaaaaaand that just reminded me that Tech was the one who taught her to fly

🥲🥲🥲🥲

That fucking shriek when the stormtrooper got blasted by the engine hahahahahaha

Ohohoh altered batch theme after take off? Okayokayokay I see you👀

Jesus Christ, Crosshair trying to prepare Omega for the very real possibility that Hunter and Wrecker are dead?

Like I know it seems cruel and defeatist but it’s actually kind in a way

Managing expectations in order to save her from a worse fall out

FUCK I THOUGHT I’D HAVE TO WAIT TILL NEXT EPISODE FOR THEM REUNION

JESUS

AAAAAAHHHHH

“We crossed the galaxy four times looking for you”

SIR

I AM QUACKING

why did Hunter’s appearance suddenly piss me off

Like Wrecker had a cute line and Hunter had to walk up like

“Um, five actually”

Like idk it felt like he was taking over the moment (which makes sense because he’s her dad but still it just sounded awkward)

EXCUSE ME??? I BEG YOUR BIGGEST PARDON??

Omega just explained that she only got off that planet AND survived so far thanks to Crosshair and all they can do is look all bitchy butt-hurt

Like I expected this from Hunter but why isn’t Wrecker hugging him?

Bc they went looking for Cross before, I thought we were past the straight up hate?

Love how stoically Cross is taking it though

I have to admit, so far this is one of my all time favourites. The comedic timing, the very real story line, the confrontation of previously opposed characters? Wonderful. But the pièce de résistance? Crosshair’s character description rings true again. “Severe and unyielding” Tech had said. I’ve rambled about this a lot recently, but the boiled down version is that when Crosshair commits to something, he commits all the way. Like how he committed to the Empire so hard that he hunted down his brothers. Or when he finally decided the Empire was a bunch of shitbags and shot officer shitbag (I forget his name) in the face. He has now decided to commit to Omega, for whatever reason. And it shows. Because even when she tells him to go, he’s literally only a minute behind her. He lets her employ her own strategies despite his preference and experience. He’s ready to beat up Captain Dickhead (did they even give him a name?) for sitting down across from her. He tells her to get into the ship first while he lays down cover fire.

Crosshair’s next “severe and unyielding” decision is Omega’s safety. And I couldn’t be more excited to see where it goes!

AND I cannot believe how much I suddenly like his character. I was so disinterested in him for like s1 and maybe 90% of s2 but now I am more interested in what becomes of him than I am in what the deal is with Omega’s M-count.

I’m saying it now. These seasons hyper focuses are: Rex, Echo and Crosshair (in that order) (for now, we’ll see)

Thanks to everyone who sat through that, have a good day/night/whatever, friend!

[melodyofthevoid]

A Deep Dive of The Crane Wives: Foxlore

(Lmao it rhymes) Alright folks! Last full album (for now), just the singles still left to go!

The most recent album not including the live release, Foxlore thrives on the lively and quick, trickery as devious on both ends as the fox itself. It’s about outsmarting your enemies, outsmarting your demons, and avoiding getting tricked yourself. There is a brighter quality to the music, even in the quiet moments. Biblical references are scattered throughout, often a rejection of common thought in favor of independence. 

Nothing At All

Warnings can take many forms, sometimes they’re haunting tales, voices in the dead of night crying their tale out into the mists. Other times they’re howled, bared teeth and claws displayed for all to hear. And sometimes, sometimes a warning can be gentle, a hand on a shoulder that guides you to sit for a moment and listen. A bright guitar that carries something heavy alongside it. 

The singer speaks of happiness first. Pursuing happiness, chasing that elusive dream, it’s what makes life happen, is it not? Day in day out there’s a never ending stream of options all claiming to help you be happy, to find happiness, bottle it, drink it, capture it. But true happiness, the man who wants nothing at all, well that’s a state that no one can keep forever. Distancing and letting that fire die, it’s easier than chasing after it. Isn’t it? 

The singer asks the one listening if they want nothing at all, replying that they do. They’re without desire and… perhaps without direction. 

A short confession, this is one of the songs where I for a long time misheard the lyrics, and this opening verse is no exception. Instead of “So long as the fire, getting weak, contained” I heard “So long as the fire can be contained”. A warning of temperament and realistic expectations for life. In keeping a level head, you can find happiness where you’re at, at least, in this version. 

The singer then speaks of the other end, of pursuing and end to pain. Longing to dull the ache that haunts them, longing to “feel nothing”. That endless void of distant emotion where nothing can hurt them ever again. But again, this is nothing more than a fallacy, feeling nothing means cutting out the joys in life too, never opening up. Pain does not define a person, to only be what hurts you is such a limited view of a person that reduces them, however the contrast of joy and pain, giving the highs a low to tower above. 

The misheard lyrics here change “handle pain, doesn’t define a man, it sure lends a hand getting measured in the sweeter parts of life” to “I know pain does indeed find a man, it sure lends a hand in measuring the sweeter parts of life”. Painting pain as an inevitable part of life but one that can be overcome and accentuating the blessings that life brings as well. 

Singing a new chorus, they ask if the listener feels nothing at all, again stating that they do. They feel nothing, and the anguish bleeds into every note until they break and say that they’d never wish that on the singer. Warning them to avoid their fate. 

Refrains of “Do you ever feel nothing at all” and “Do you ever want nothing at all” echo in a round, as though the singer is speaking more to themselves than to their audience, trailing off as they seemingly come to a quiet realization that they can’t continue like this. 

Now, normally I wouldn’t include misheard lyrics, as they’re not the author’s intent and this is no different, however I think they speak to the themes of this song on a personal level. To me, the song was a helpful and gentle guide, not a warning of a similar fate. But in the end, does that matter? If the message to not shy away from life, from all of its possibilities rings true, then isn’t that enough? 

I Talk In My Sleep 

Sleeping alongside another, finding that long sought after companionship, it can make the long nights softer, for having someone there to share it with. Unless, of course, there’s more between the two than simply pillows. The singer talks in their sleep into the darkness, the only one who’s listening to their plight as their partner sleeps beside them unaware. Dreaming of everything but them. Maybe their partner did dream of them once, maybe they were closer, but not now. Now they speak their troubles only to that which cannot respond. 

Trouble plagues the singer, demons of the past, twisting their words and leaving them haunted. Their partner has no clue, whenever they leave for whatever reason, the demons come in closer, grip them tighter. And they won’t tell their partner, out of fear, out of shame. It’ll be easier if they keep it to themselves… won’t it? 

Even if their partner did listen to the things that they said in their sleep, would they even understand? Would they understand their problems and worries? Or would they simply turn over and go back to sleep, ignoring the hurt and anguish that echoes in the room. A cloud of regrets that looms over the both of them as they try to pretend that everything is alright. 

But that won’t solve the issue, won’t make that dark cloud disappear, and in the end, it gets to be too much. And they finally confess that they’re not alright. That there’s so much weighing on their mind. Maybe it won’t fix everything, and the distance between them might win out, but it’s better than pretending that nothing’s wrong at all. 

Down the River 

Sometimes, you want to give second chances to those that hurt you, in spite of knowing better. Wanting to believe that the person you want, that you hope they could be will come through in the end. But that isn’t the case, is it? Because this isn’t the first time, or the second. 

The singer ruminates on the fact that they keep holding out for this person, waiting for evidence that they were wrong about them. That they’re going to own up to all of the damage and make amends. Then again, why would they? If they’ve still not changed their ways by now, they’re never going to. 

What fun is there in sticking around to see the results of the damage done? After all of the entertainment of the betrayal, there’s nothing else to do. They’ve lost the trust so, better to find a new fool to pull the wool over. 

Then that leaves the singer and all of the previous victims to handle the hurt on their own. The deceiver free to live and act as they please without the weight of guilt but them? They’re left with those scars to handle. They can’t run from that, they can’t simply shake off the years of trust shattered. 

The singer was, as they put it, sold down the river, an euphemism born of the American slave trade. The Mississippi and Ohio rivers were common routes of transporting slaves, and to be sold down that route, typically meant being sold to a cotton plantation in the deeper South. A deep betrayal, and one that came at a steep price. Over the years the saying has lost much of its deadly connotations over the centuries but is understood as a betrayal at its core. Selling out someone else for personal gain. 

The con-artist, the liar, the cheat, they’re going to skip town and find some new sucker to hurt because that’s the easier solution. Never content to let the dust settle around their feet lest the consequences catch up to them. They’ve got enemies after all, and those enemies probably want blood. With such a collection of names in their wake, one almost wonders if there’s somewhere that they hide away to keep their secrets safe, or if they leave it behind and never think about it again. It doesn’t look like it affects them in any way, doesn’t haunt their actions, so why assume that will change? 

In the end, when it comes to people like this, who use and discard as they please, there’s not going to be a cathartic ending. No ending confrontation that sees them getting their due. It’s no use waiting for them to come around and change, it’ll only drag you down. Better to curse their name and walk away, be better in spite of them. And maybe, privately, wish for their downfall. It’ll come by their own hands eventually. 

Ribs 

The biblical tale of Adam and Eve, the giving of a rib to create a perfect “companion”, is a familiar tale to many in the United States and in other Christian majority nations. God making woman second, making her, in some eyes, “lesser” because she’s born from man rather than her own being. This is a rejection of that premise, that the tales of old define who one is now. The narrator may not be so removed from the narrative, however. 

Marrow from Adam’s rib may have made Eve, made to be a companion and servant, but that isn’t the case for the singer. No man gave a piece of them to make her, not in the biblical sense anyhow, she is independent and free, of her own. Her heart may be battered by the elements, all of life’s hardships, but it is a burden she takes on herself. How lucky, she remarks, that all of her ugly and human organs are her own. No man dictates her actions, plays with her free will. She is the master of her own fate, however flawed or messy it may be.

Lilith is, in some texts, the first woman, crafted by God independent of Adam and expelled from Eden due to her refusal to submit to either of them. Building a life, a kingdom of her own both around her heart and away from the eyes of history. Her name has faded generally from public consciousness, untold by further translations of the Bible and being relegated to the role of a demon, a temptress by the sources that still mention her name. Her legacy today is a mixed one, for some a wicked morality tale, and for others a source of inspiration.

Yet this is no matter for the singer, be she Lilith or simply someone inspired by her story. Her empire, the world around her is untamed and unmoved by the words of liars and those who’d seek to chain her up. 

The dark, the night, forces that frighten others are embraced by the singer, she chose to close her eyes to the light, to live in the darkness. Often, God is portrayed as the light, and she shuns it, embracing a life without on her own terms. 

As time has gone on, the origin of humans has shifted (at least generally) from the dust of the ground, the forming by Godly hands to a more scientific origin. Views of women have changed (...somewhat) over time, and the singer implores that young girls not buy into any armor, any claims that she needs to change herself to be stronger, be tougher to survive. That she has to conform to someone else’s idea, her ribs are her own. Her body is her own. 

And that is all they need. 

Can’t Go Back 

Sometimes, we fuck up. Badly. We make mistakes that we can’t take back no matter what we do and have to live with the consequences. It haunts no matter what you try and do to mend it, regret pulling on your heart and imploring you to sink deeper into your misery. Because it’s comforting to sit in that hurt forever, isn’t it? To feel like a monster, or a failure, reliving that moment over and over again. There’s an element of self-flagellation to it, as if that suffering makes you more righteous, and yet. 

Sometimes someone comes in, wipes the tears from your face and tells you it’s okay. The singer guides you to try to forgive yourself. Yes, you might’ve sinned, but there’s a lesson to be learned in there, something to take away and move forward with. It’ll hurt, sure, but the rest can be left behind. It doesn’t serve a purpose to sit in self-loathing, there’s more life out there to live if you reach out. 

Because you can’t go back to fix it. What’s done, is done. It’s time to move on, stop trying to dig up the past. Bringing it back to the surface won’t bring catharsis or relief, only reveal the rot that's set in as time wears on. All there’s left to do is carry on living as best you can. There will be a whole life ahead of those moments, whether you move on or not, so better to try, right?

And it may not be fair, it may not be within your control, but when has life ever been fair? For anyone? Maybe it’s not alright now, maybe it won’t be for a while, but all things change, including this. All times end eventually, including the bad times. One day, this will all be a distant memory that maybe you can look back on with fondness, maybe not. It doesn’t matter, you’ll be different, for better or worse remains to be seen but it’s up to you. 

In the end, this is a soft lullaby, comfort at a low point, much needed. A hand through your hair as the last sobs leave your body. Ending in a sigh, and exhale of the weight on your back. 

Curses 

Before going into the meat of this song, let it be known that from a musical standpoint I’m not sure how anything could be improved. The clarinet solo at the beginning took me out and it’s such a bright and cheeky lick that hints at a little mystery. It almost carries the same tone as the main singer really. It makes me smile hearing the warm wooden tones dance in and out throughout the song. Anyways, onto the content. 

In the midst of a crisis, there’s always some other crisis about to happen. All of it builds on itself, kindling on a wildfire blazing out of control. Each word compounds the panic, everything going wrong. So wrong in fact, that all methods of extinguishing the fire have failed. The well’s run dry, methods of fixing the problem exhausted. Leaving the walls to start to crumble under the weight of the damage. 

But then someone else comes, a breath of fresh air clearing away the haze of the smoke. Sure, the fire’s still smoldering, intensifying, but at least you’re not alone, right? The singer pleads for the other to stay with them in the rubble. 

When the house isn’t ablaze, it’s a testament to who they used to be. Giving an elegy for someone who no longer exists. Full of ghosts and cobwebs and regrets. Perfect fodder for another fire, especially when it’s no longer a home. Simply a place of residence. 

And like that prayer said at a funeral, all will return to nothing, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, spelling doom for the singer as they try to outrun their problems, their “devil”, with their lover in tow. They hope that maybe, if they run far enough, fast enough, that their lover can give them a sense of peace, put their curses to rest and grant them some small mercy. Make something beautiful out of them. 

Though this is a song and dance that they’ve done before. Many many times before, the well worn machine growing tired and sluggish as the singer tries to keep it from revealing her secrets. Too many details slipping through the cracks in their facade that they’re struggling to keep up. They’re on the verge of breaking down entirely. They just want someone to stay in spite of it. To say that there might be something worth saving amongst the wreckage. 

That this curse doesn’t define them, even as they struggle. The tragedy and cry for help almost unrecognizable beneath the lively music. It’s a wonderful contradiction, hiding in plain sight. As if making the call for help fun will lessen the sting. 

Turn Out the Lights 

A quick little tune for the anxious, stating upfront what it’s about. “You don’t have to believe every single thought that tumbles through your head just ‘cause it sounds like you talking.” Sometimes (oftentimes) our minds are unreliable narrators for any number of reasons, jumping to conclusions, exaggerating fears and dangers, intruding on our lives with unwanted impulses or distractions. It can weigh down and make someone feel like they’re the problem, that they are their thoughts. Or someone can get trapped in that loop of negativity because well. It sounds like you.

There’s no quick fix to this, often those demons take many forms and constantly find new ways to badger and berate. All you can do sometimes is just… put them to sleep. Say “not right now” and find some other way to occupy yourself. “Turn out the lights” so to speak. 

Even during the daytime they’ll weigh on your shoulders. Occupying your mind as you try to go about your day, constantly distracting… and for what?

In the end, honestly what good comes of endlessly examining your own failures and faults, drowning in anxiety? It doesn’t fix them. It doesn’t make them go away. Worrying that you’re a bad person for this that or the other, regretting past decisions, what does it matter? Taking actions for the future will give you results, not this. Turn off those lights, the singer shrugs, and figure it out. 

Pretty Little Things 

What’s the saying, words are cheap? Any string of the right phrases and insinuations and you can promise just about anything. Construct a lovely artifice of grand romantic gestures if you add the right actions to it. A bouquet of flowers, some chocolate, etc. Then what happens though? What happens when those words turn sour? When the sweet words and promises ring hollow? When the cycles repeat? 

The singer’s first love gave his affections liberally, all lips and hands. Then those affections turned, with the cracks showing, turning to rough callused hands by the end. Implying that the hands that once held and caressed used their strength for… something else entirely. Leaving marks that she can still feel to this day. Touches against skin unseen but very much felt. A phantom limb. 

She gets straight to the point from there, telling the one currently wooing her that she doesn’t believe any of what they’re saying. She’s heard them before, and while they’re pretty, they don’t mean much in the long run. Flowers, that common romantic gesture, are compared to those “pretty little things”, it hurts to watch them wilt away into nothing, losing their color, their meaning, until they’re nothing but reminders of what used to be. A lovelier time now long past. 

The culmination of her previous relationship left a bitter taste, the trust she put in her partner betrayed and taken advantage of. Trust that she no longer simply allows others to have. It’s a right that is earned, and can be lost just as quickly. Just because someone is handsome with lovely eyes and a quick wit, it doesn’t mean that they deserve to be let in. Red flags often disguise themselves as roses, after all. 

At the bridge, she reveals how she pulls them out, by denying what a man wants and watching as he reacts. Is he calm and accepting of her feelings? Is he somewhat hurt but reproachful? Or do the pretty words turn to ash in his mouth? 

Now the tables turn, she concedes that perhaps she has been “ruined” as some put it by her previous relationship. Her better parts torn from her, her heart used up (although, not the only thing “used” in some eyes). Such that no one after can possibly enjoy a relationship with her. 

Or maybe, and hear me out, that’s all bullshit, and are talking points used to badger and belittle people dealing with trauma from previous relationships (or in some cases having any previous relationships at all) into feeling guilty enough to agree to sleep with them. Or simply as a means to make her feel like shit for turning them down. 

Well, in this case it’s not working. The hostile reaction only serving to prove why her distrust exists and why she keeps her barriers high. No pretty little thing is worth the costs, not long term. Even if there’s a lingering sense of loneliness as she repeats the chorus again, as if hoping that maybe next time, they’ll prove her wrong. 

Know How 

It’s easy to say that things will change, isn’t it? The logical part of the brain can come up with scenarios and plans all it wants, see the end goal at the end of the tunnel… but how to actually get there. How to gather the courage to go out and take that first step, to accept the risks and possible pitfalls that may come and do it. There’s so many questions that it can leave you paralyzed with indecision. 

Keeping themselves safe, that’s the priority. Bravery is for other folks, those who can take risks. The singer focuses on the present and the boundaries, keeping themselves sheltered from harm. But their partner is different. Something’s changed in their relationship, the rules redrawn and they’re left scrambling to pick up the pieces. Maybe the change is a move, an ask for separation and space, either way it redefines what they know and well. What now?

They know what they have to do, their heart is telling them in no uncertain terms what it wants, even in spite of them ignoring it in the past. It’s insistent, pushing for change, and they understand it. 

They know what they have to do.

They just don’t know how to do it. 

They’ve been pulling the wool over their own eyes and blinding themselves to the fact that their relationship is changing. A love once freely given is now retreating and they’re left picking up the pieces attempting to understand what they’re supposed to do now that their constant is gone. Trying to cut themselves free of the net that they wrapped themselves in thinking it’d never strangle them. 

Something needs to change. Complacency won’t save them at this point and it’s not as though things will simply go back the way they were. They may not be brave now, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be in the future. Fear is a constant in life, one has to act with it, in spite of it, and do what has to be done. 

Not that it’s always clear how. 

Not the Ghost 

What makes a haunting, really? What is it? A presence lingering in a place after the resident is long gone? A collection of memories that refuse to leave, infused into the very wood of a home? Or perhaps, not a home, a person. Who isn’t haunted by something, or someone. A lover, an ex friend, a family member, whose physical impact on your life has ended but remains regardless. Maybe it’s not even a single person, but a collective. Decisions, events, accumulating over the years. A haunting presence. 

The singer beseeches their lover to turn the lamps down low, to dim the lights so only the two of them are visible. Focus only on them, and not the endless dark that surrounds. Not on the future, never to the future. For a moment, they can exist together without any fear… ideally. They warn that there are demons here, that they’ll carry them home. Whether that means alone, bearing the full weight of their mental problems on their back, or that the demons will make themselves known within their home, it’s unclear. 

It then shifts into a lament, like the ghosts of many a work of fiction, wishing to break the chains that bind them tight to their burdens. Not of an unfair or unjust death, but of disappointment and of self doubt. Whispers of warnings when their lover is gone, false omens of future woes. They want for more, and that in and of itself does not scare them. All of their burdens, all of what they carry keeps them afraid, though not of the past itself. It’s the fact that it’s still there that haunts them. The fact that it trails after their steps like a shadow that they cannot shake. 

That fear that they’ll always be like this. No matter what they do. 

Taking a step back, they look at the life they’re living, tied down to their regrets. An anchor forged in anguish and harboring guilt. So long as they sit there, so too will their past, tied and never able to move along. Collecting more mistakes as life continues on, bringing them home to sit and linger. 

And maybe one day it'll change, but for now, they sit in that fear until the break of day, hoping their lover stays beside them.

The Garden

Relationships can be a beautiful thing. Trust, companionship built between two people, a life no longer lived alone. However, not every form of love is smiled upon by society. In fact, there’re those who are quite adamant that there is only one true way that love can exist, and anything else is blasphemy. Is sin. Disgusting, a crime, something to be shamed and any who deviate shunned and mocked. Or worse, depending on the community. This leaves any person living in these societies to walk along an eternal tightrope, both trying to stay true to themselves while staying safe. 

But that balance can’t last forever. 

The singer is frantic as they tell their lover to tear down all the evidence of their love. To bury it beneath their bed in shame. Hide it away, try to keep it hidden. The Crows, they say, are laughing at their expense. Carrion birds that pick at the decaying rot, at the easy victim. They sit within the Garden of Eden, on their high perch. Drowning out any possible excuse the singer could give in mockery. 

Despite this, the singer pleads with their lover, their better half. Calling them their shield, their stone, their steady hand. They seek protection from the mockery even as they attempt to hide away. Their lover is their better half, the light in their darkness. It’s closing in as the potential repercussions creep closer too, and there’s nothing that they can do. Feelings torn between wanting to indulge in comfort, or let their lover take them out. The thin line of passion and vulnerability that could be so easily taken advantage of. Still, it’s something beautiful to them. 

Something they can hold even as others scorn them, seeing only the bloodstained clothes, the sinner’s garb on the outside. The devil knows their name, they’ve transgressed against God, and it’s only a matter of time. 

After their previous indecision, they resolve to remain true to themselves, and their love, laying down in the bed they made together, content to go, let the crows have their way if it means that they’re not separated. The persecution they’ll face, the hammers and nails that will be driven into their skin, they’ll have each other. 

Then the mood turns, that quiet acceptance turning to rage as they decide no. They’re not going to simply lay down and let the crows do as they please. This garden is not paradise if there’s so many rules in place. They deserve better, and this place does not deserve to be. They get on their knees and start to tear into the garden, rejecting its promises, its so-called safety and welcome. Cutting down the apple tree. If this is a sin? Then they’ll accept it.