#i mean like it's not impossible that he was and used the new circumstances to reveal that

[fideidefenswhore]

After 1536 the only bard to comment on affairs of state with any regularity was Lewys Morgannwg, who as unofficial poet laureate continued to praise Henry for his imperial qualities as the heir of Brutus and a second Charlemagne, and (in an allusion to the laws of 1534) for disciplining the unruly Welsh for their own good. The opportunistic poet who before the break with Rome had honoured the monastic vocation in an ode to the abbot of Neath now commended the king for suppressing the corrupt monasteries, and yet he did not entirely abandon his attachment to the traditional faith. After the fall of Anne Boleyn, who is held responsible for promoting the 'new religion', Lewys denounced her as a second Alice Rowena, whose corruption had betrayed the kingdom of the Britons in 'the treachery of the long knives.' In the same poem the king is urged to prefer local men before Englishmen of low breeding to high offices, for the sake of security and contentment of the realm.

British Consciousness and Identity: The Making of Britain, 1533-1707, edited by Brendan Bradshaw, Peter Roberts

[jaberfamily]

Support My Family Journey to Safety and Peace

🚨Urgent Appeal 🚨

My name is Jaber Al-Haj. I am from Gaza, married to my wife, Menna, and we have a little son named Hashim, who is less than two years old. Like any Palestinian family, we dreamed of a simple and stable life. But the recent war turned our lives upside down. The sounds of explosions never left us, and fear has become part of our daily existence. My son Hashim suffers from health problems that urgently require treatment, but the war has destroyed everything, including the healthcare system, making access to necessary medical care nearly impossible. With each passing day, our suffering deepens, and the fear for Hashim’s health and future consumes me.

Alongside my small family, I used to work with my brothers, Aboud and Bilal, on our joint project—a small lab for producing essential household cleaning products. We started this project with modest resources, dreaming that it would become a source of income to support us and provide job opportunities for our community. But the war left us with nothing. Our lab, which was once filled with life and hard work, was reduced to rubble under the bombardment. We lost our equipment, our livelihood, and with it, a part of our dreams for the future.

Even our home, our only refuge, did not escape the destruction. It was severely damaged and is now uninhabitable. We were forced to flee and live in a tent under harsh conditions unfit for human life. The cold, the heat, the lack of resources, and the absence of privacy have made life nearly unbearable. We try to cope, but every day brings new challenges and suffering.

Today, what worries me the most is my son Hashim's condition. His health is deteriorating, and he desperately needs treatment abroad. However, under the circumstances we’re living in, I lack the means to secure his travel and medical expenses. As a father, there is nothing more heartbreaking than watching my child suffer while being unable to help him.

This campaign is a lifeline for my family in our darkest hour. With your generosity, we can bring hope back into our lives and secure a better future for my son, Hashim. Every contribution, no matter how small, makes a world of difference.

Please support us through the links below:

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Thank you for standing with us and helping us through this difficult time. Your kindness means more than words can express.

With heartfelt gratitude, Jaber AlHaj

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[h0neylevi]

Levi Month - Day 21 (Post-War: Children)

cw: canonverse/post-war, written with fem!reader in mind, suggestive sexual content, established relationship, mostly domestic fluff

word count: 857

“I found condoms in Falco’s room today.”

You peek over the top of your book to find Levi frowning in the bathroom doorway.

He had quietly retreated into the room several minutes ago for his usual nighttime routine, leaving you with the job of locking up and shutting off the lights. If relinquishing that task hadn’t been enough to clue you in that something was wrong, the familiar little scrunch of concern that is now etched between his eyebrows says everything. He’s worried.

Despite his obvious displeasure, the revelation still makes you smile. It isn’t the news necessarily–that isn’t as shocking to you as it apparently is to Levi. You’ve witnessed enough by accident of Gabi and Falco hurriedly pulling away from one another in the empty kitchen to know that something was going on.

But the second bedroom–first door on the left down the hall–is actually a guest bedroom. In the years since you and Levi have relocated and the restoration project began, a number of people have used it–Connie, Jean, Onyankopon, even you–but it seems that Levi has subconsciously deemed it Falco’s. It’s so like him to reveal his feelings in such an unintentional way. It’s cute.

You decide to tuck away that knowledge instead of antagonizing him for once and shrug.

“At least they’re being responsible,” you reply and return to your book.

Quietly, Levi crosses the room, a look of dissatisfaction still polluting his expression as he sinks onto his side of the bed.

“You’re not worried about it?” he asks.

You turn, meeting his concerned gaze with a sardonic tilt of your head. “Tell me you weren’t thinking about sex at his age.”

His lips purse slightly, and you know you’ve made your point when the tips of his ears begin to turn a faint shade of pink. “I wasn’t acting on it,” he says as if that makes any real difference.

You laugh. “Well, I think that was more because of your circumstances than anything else.”

He doesn’t say anything to refute what you say. Instead, Levi settles into his side of the bed, propped upright on the pillows next to you. With a slow sigh, his hand finds your thigh much like it does almost every night. It’s an idle touch, one that you’re not even sure he realizes he does anymore, but it still causes you to scoot closer, seeking out his warmth.

“That doesn’t mean they should be having sex. They’re kids,” he continues, seemingly still preoccupied with the topic. “Maybe we should talk to them.”

“Gabi and Falco are almost eighteen, Levi,” you point out, not looking up from your page. “I’m sure their parents have already had that kind of talk with them. Pretty soon they’ll have little ones of their own running around. And that’s what we fought for anyway, right? For people to live and fall in love. Have families, grow old.”

He doesn’t reply.

For a few minutes, you sit like this, absorbed in your book. Coaxed into comfort by the slow caress of Levi’s thumb on your skin. Some nights, Levi will read over your shoulder, and you think that’s what he’s doing again tonight, until–

“Have you ever thought about it?”

You don’t look up when you ask, “About what?”

“Having kids.”

Your eyes stutter on the page before freezing entirely. Any attempt to recall anything you just read is impossible, so you carefully bookmark your place at the end of the chapter and set the book aside.

Levi is already watching you when you turn, the expression in his one good eye now open and passive.

“I have,” you tell him slowly. “But never seriously. Never thought I’d get the chance to.”

He nods to assert he knows what you mean. It’s difficult to dream for a future when each day feels like it may be your last. It’s a feeling you’re both well accustomed to.

He keeps his gaze fixed and even in a way that makes your heart flutter. “And now?” he asks.

You swallow.

An implication sits in the air that you’re sure is intentional. You’ve been by Levi’s side as a comrade for almost a decade but as his partner for only a fraction of that time, only revealing your feelings a few months after the battle at Fort Salta. Thankfully, he had reciprocated.

And now, he’s asking if you want children with him.

Scenarios immediately flash through your mind. Ones of Levi holding a little boy with his eyes and your nose. Others of a little girl with both of her parents wrapped around her finger.

It conjures an indescribable feeling, but if you had to choose, you think joy might be the closest thing to it.

“I’d like that,” you finally say, eyes focusing on him once more. “But we’re not exactly young anymore. We’d have to start trying soon.”

There’s a small twitch of his mouth upwards–the tiniest of movements that you’ve come to recognize as the precursor to mischief. So when he reaches to pull you in for a kiss, you’re not surprised when he says, “We can start trying right now.”

[contract-crawdad]

Apartment 21 Theories and Headcanons

Let’s overthink Lyle’s weird as hell living space.

First off! The titular Lyle! Going to try to keep this section limited to what we can learn about Lyle through his apartment rather than just thoughts about Lyle himself, as he is possibly the single most-discussed character in the whole game. And we can infer a lot!

Jeanne’s dialogue confirms that apartment 21 is actually Lyle’s apartment, seeing as she does consider him her neighbor. It’s not a situation where Lyle moved into someone else’s abandoned apartment after the apocalypse started.

The D&D M&W stuff makes it clear that Lyle’s a fan of tabletop games! Do you suppose he’s part of an ongoing group, or is he looking for people to play with? It can be so hard to find a local playgroup! I like to think he and Edwin had a group going, maybe with a few other astronomers involved.

Considering we get the crossword book from him but also that it’s completely unstarted, I assume that it’s one of those things that’s he’s been meaning to get around to but never quite found the time (been there, buddy).

We can find anxiety meds in Lyle’s bathroom! Which is a minor if interesting detail. Lyle really does get more and more relatable.

Funnily enough, one thing that we don’t see in his apartment that we should be in there is the zoom lens that Edwin’s loan log says Lyle is currently borrowing! But considering his partly mechanical form, it’s possible that the zoom lens is simply part of his body now.

Lyle’s dark room! I’d wager Mr. Henderson wouldn’t exactly approve if it’s existence if he were to ever find out. This strikes me as something that breaks some kind of agreement found in you average renter’s agreement.

Notably you can only ever access the dark room if you kill Lyle to get the key! He doesn’t grant you entry under any circumstance, and it’s not exactly hard to see why considering what his ‘special project’ is.

On that note, Lyle will never attack you! It is impossible to get him to be the one to instigate a fight, you have to attack him out of the blue.

The photos of Sam make it clear that Lyle’s affection for Sam isn’t a new development by any means.

More concerningly, though, is the key you can find between two of the bookshelves. It’s SAM’S apartment key, which the more eagle-eyed and elephant-memoried of you out there will recall is the spare that’s missing from the plant outside Sam’s apartment! It’s dubious as to whether or not Lyle has ever used the key.

As far as I’m aware, the key has no actual purpose other than to serve as an ominous reminder of Lyle’s obsession.

What the fuck is Lokjaw’s deal. Seriously. Lyle. Why do you have a man in your unlocked closet? I can excuse the hamburger man you have locked in your bedroom (we’ll get to him), but this is just ridiculous.

My thought on why Lokjaw hasn’t just left the (completely unlocked) closet is because their mental state has deteriorated to the point where they cannot operate a door. Maybe they don’t even recognize that a door is a thing that leads to another place anymore.

But that’s assuming Lokjaw was ever human to begin with! I’ve seen theories that they were Lyle’s dog (credit to @crankyteapot once more), which would explain the mutant’s posture, strange lower jaw, and why they’re in Lyle’s closet in the first place!

But considering that there’s no dog bowl, no collar, and no reaction from Lyle if you kill Lokjaw? I’d wager that if they are a dog, they’re not Lyle’s dog, but rather just some random already-mutated dog he came across! It went sniffing around the closet and Lyle just shut the door behind it. This making it a problem for future Lyle.

Lokjaw does drop raw pork if you kill it, which is… hmm. Something.

I… don’t think there’s any pleasant explanation as to why it drops raw pork actually.

Something about Lokjaw, whether human or canine, makes me think they had a very nervous disposition. There’s something so defensive about their posture, and their facial expression seems so scared! Unfortunately for us, this translates to the mindset of ‘kill the thing that is scaring me’.

Unfortunately, the reason for Tumorhead’s presence in apartment 21 isn’t any clearer than Lokjaw’s! If anything it’s stranger because he’s in what appears to be Lyle’s bedroom, and he’s even locked in there by those strange fleshy growths.

On thing IS clear: the hamburger found around the room is pretty clearly implied to be meat that’s fallen off of a Tumorhead himself, judging by what happens in battle. Sam is the bravest man alive for taking this meat and cooking it.

@crankyteapot pointed out a few visual similarities between Tumorhead’s clothing and the Onlookers, and I could see there being a connection!

I really love the idea that Tumorhead, having looked outside but while still human, stumbled drunk into Lyle’s apartment and collapsed into his bed (with Lyle being too timid to correct them). The poor guy nursing a splitting headache that manifested very viscerally as his metamorphosis completed in his sleep.

Located in Lyle’s bathroom, we finally have an easy-to-explain mutant presence! The broken-down door makes it pretty clear that this guy forced his way in from F1 through Lyle’s shortcut.

Since this guy is pretty clearly implied to be from F1, I wonder if he has any association with that one gigantic eye in the unnumbered rooms? On one hand there’s some surface level similarities, but on the other hand Eyecluster’s eyes are functionally distinct: they’ve been modified into acid-launchers and it’s unclear if he can still see out of any of them!

My favorite detail is how Eyecluster’s posture seems off balance from the sheer volume of eyes he has, it’s a neat touch that conveys just how ungainly their newly added parts are! And I adore how the Visitor’s effects clearly don’t care about what an organ USED TO do. Your eyeballs spit acid now. Your hair can eat things. Your tongue is easier to get around on than your legs.

This is nothing but pure headcanon, but I like to think that on the morning Eyecluster beheld the Visitor, he woke up wearing contact lenses that he’d left on overnight by mistake. The unpleasant sensation in his eyes ended up heavily influencing the results of his transformation.

It’s what you all came here for, it’s LYLE BATHTUB THEORY TIME!!

So. Lyle’s bathtub. It’s weirdly long, right? And that’s not just sprite perspective weirdness! The comically long bathtub has actual inspection dialogue that reads ‘huh this thing is long as hell, weird huh?’ and it also points out that the whole room looks stretched. Sure enough, the less conspicuous but still very conspicuous counter across from it is also weirdly long!

But why? I’ll tell you why. I think Leigh stretched Lyle’s bathtub. it’s not what’s INSIDE the bathroom, but rather OUTSIDE!

The other side of the south bathroom wall is the hallway where Leigh chases you. You know, the hallway that she supernaturally lengthened so she could have more fun chasing Sam. Not only that, but this chase is required in order to access Lyle’s apartment in the first place, you cannot access Lyle’s bathroom without having done the Leigh chase!

So Leigh’s space-warping chase tunnel seems to have had some lasting effects on the adjoining rooms! Which makes sense. Sure, Leigh has some kinda of vague elongating powers, but you can’t tell me she knows how they work or how to use them in a way that doesn’t have some lingering effects.

Hopefully it’s helpful to Lyle! I mean, he’s larger now. He definitely would not fit comfortably into a normal bathtub, but on the other hand it’s also questionable if he even can bathe, what with all his mechanical parts.

[lovesim09]

White Star

I know the fandom often makes fun of White Star. However, when it comes to power and influence, it is a terrifying opponent. It cannot be forgotten that in the original timeline, White Star first appeared 20 years after the beginning of the war in front of Choi Han. Nothing happened only thanks to regressor. We also saw the diary of the God of Death, a lot of people should have died. In the original timeline Roan kingdom would be destroyed, the Whipper kingdom would lose to the Empire. Jungle would be under the rule of Elisneh. It's likely that many places would be destroyed by dead mana because of the Empire. The dragons we met would be dead. Bud would probably have been killed too, after all, White Star was hunting him. The whales had a war with the mermaids, but it is possible that they later lost. White Star would have the most powerful ancient powers. After all, he was trying to obtain Sky Eating Water and we know how powerful this power is. It's better not to mention the balance of the 5 attributes. Additionally, it has races with a dark attribute on its side. He managed to gain a lot of sacrifice, so his Sky attribute would be more powerful than what we have seen. He has its own kingdom, and Kingdoms that work with him.He also got rid of two dangerous people, Saint and Holy Maiden. There is no one who can use the artifact left by the Sun God. The corrupt Church would realize too late how dangerous the enemy is, it is impossible for them to sacrifice their lives to purify dead mana. It was obvious what their reaction would be after we already seen their reaction when Prince Valentino asked for help. There is also no one who can use fire of destruction, because the person who took this power was an elf, a person with no money and without correct acquired power. The world tree would be destroyed and replaced by a new tree controlled by him. There would also be no weapon capable of completely destroying his soul.

There is something that seems interesting to me. The proposal the God of Death gave to Choi Jung Soo. Nameless 1 already had Choi Han, since a second Single Lifers is needed. That could mean Choi Han lost. It's possible that he didn't die, but something worse happened to him. From being controlled by illusions to becoming a Half Blood-like monster or becoming a demon. It is possible that hunters could have killed him later. CJS preferred to sacrifice his life to his closest family. KRS has become someone whose future cannot be predicted. Thanks to this, KRS has become someone who can change the future of others. KRS read the book with the necessary information. Besides, he had the power, intelligence, experience. It's not that WS was an idiot, this person was terrifying. He managed to guess that Cale was a transmigrator, that the person in this body wasn't the real Cale. Even if the other theories were wrong. We have to remember how unlikely it is that he is someone from another world. After all, he had too much information. While it is laughable to say that Cale works with the Gods, he was actually partly right. Cale was sent to this world by the God of Death, and the God likes him and offered him the position of a saint. Even thank to God he gained the power that allowed him to imprison White Star. White Star lost because Cale had help from God and was loved by nature. And so Cale is someone that nature likes, elementals are part of nature, the world tree has lost branches for him many times, even gave him the oldest root. Dragons liked him because of his power and character. Elves were interested in him many times because of 5 attributes, so different from each other. He did not discriminate against any race, so even the necromancers and dark elves cooperated with him. Of course, Cale is also someone who survived the apocalypse, he managed to become someone strong even in such circumstances. Even White Star who lived for 1000 years couldn't compare to how many difficult and demanding missions Cale completed while he was still in his old body. Because White Star has always had the power, he never had to fear that the monster would eat him, that if he lost, the people he protected would be next. I can say with confidence that Cale has a lot more experience even if he didn't live as long. Compared to White Star, Cale never took the easy path. I would also like to talk about the powers of these two, but that's for another time.

[sometimesoliloquy]

You know what, Nick’s “cus you chose him, you chose Luke” is actually giving me a new and even more nuanced view of 5x10 and the whole heartbreaking “she has people that care for her. She doesn’t need me. I’m nothing” speech.

I always assumed that Nick fully expected June to go back to Luke whenever she got free of Gilead. I figured he probably always had this in the back of his mind once June learned Luke was alive, especially as he was trying to get her out at the start of s2, and that it just became even more concrete after he met Luke in 2x09, with Luke telling him he’d never stop loving June, and her reaction when Nick delivers the message.

But what if deep down in the darkest corner of his heart where he keeps safe the impossible dreams he can’t say out loud… what if he had thought there was a chance that just maybe, she wouldn’t (and then what)? What if he confirms June has gotten to Canada and is living with Luke, and with that question finally settled, only then goes and marries Rose, his attempt to somehow (however misguidedly) move on, and let June live the life he thinks she wants.

After all, why would Nick want to defect to Canada only to play awkward 3rd wheel to June and Luke? Living with the indefinite pain of being so close to her and not having her (and not even able to be of use to her as he is—and is constantly striving to be—while in Gilead) while being otherwise completely alone: an alien in a thoroughly unfamiliar place, potentially detained for an indefinite period and likely reviled as a war criminal by many even after he’s pardoned? He wouldn’t want that life, and maybe even more, selflessly, he wouldn’t want to complicate things for June as she tries to “rebuild” a life with Luke and Holly. So he tries to build something of a life for himself in Gilead, to keep surviving and try to make things better (if he can trust Lawrence). But only after he’s confirmed she’s reunited with Luke.

When he meets with June in 5x09, she actually does express her desire for him to defect to Canada (“Why didn’t you say yes to Mark?”) but it’s followed by a direct reminder of the circumstances: “I have Luke”. It’s not really June expressing her desire for Nick (“I only feel that way about you”), to be with Nick. It would be as the third wheel. The side piece. The forever second choice. At least that’s what he believes. And of course it’s all impossibly further complicated at this point by Rose and the coming baby. A fine mess, as June says.

So in 5x10 he says what he now knows (believes) to be true “she doesn’t need me”. But he’s really not giving Tuello the full answer: that he didn’t run away with June earlier, when he had the chance, because he always wanted her to have the choice, because he would never take away the chance for her to make the decision for her life, her future, even if it would mean she didn’t choose him. And in his eyes she’s chosen Luke.

Perhaps he thought he’d made peace with that, but in this new open vulnerability of his (as his carefully crafted Commander facade starts to crumble), seeing her again for the first time since he thought he may have lost her for good (again); for the first time since he admitted to Rose (and maybe to himself) that he can’t let her go, he can’t help letting out this telling glimpse of his inner most desire: “you chose him” (I wish you’d chosen me). “I only feel that way about you” (I still wish you’d choose me, I would drop everything for you.)

It’s not just an impossible pipe dream living rent free in his head anymore, it’s a tangibly spoken (if somewhat coded) wish. And even though he doesn’t trust Tuello, maybe he still has “no you’re not, Commander, not to her” ringing in his ears as he puts it all out there, praying she’ll prove that true.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Burning Love

Chapter 8

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was a beautiful morning.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as Four snoozed beside you. One of his legs had managed to hook over yours during the night, pulling you impossibly closer, but you couldn't have cared less.

It was rare that things went your way in life, which was probably why the moment felt like a dream come true. Your thoughts kept circling back to the moment he admitted his love for you, and it took everything in you not to squeal like a child.

He loved you, and, well, you found that you loved him too. It had seemed impossible, considering the circumstances, but there was no way in hell you were going to complain now.

"Mmm..." a sleepy groan left Four's mouth, and his hand tightened around your shoulder, as if he was testing whether you were real or not. Earthy green eyes blinked open, and you couldn't deny the rush of heat shooting down your spine when his first instinct was to smile up at you. "Morning."

"Morning," you echoed, shifting slightly to test the wound on your side. When only the dullest of aches could be felt, you grinned. "I think I'm on the mend."

"Yeah?" He hummed. "I'm glad."

"So am I," you thought back to a certain one of his admissions last night. "Someone's gotta figure out what's going on with you."

You felt Four's grimace before you saw it. "...Right."

"Sooo," you dragged the word on as long as you could. "Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess first?"

There was silence; a long, embarrassed silence that did nothing but intrigue you further.

"...How much do you know about the Minish race?" He asked, still half-hiding in your neck.

You blinked, unable to comprehend why he kept bringing it up; you weren't going to judge him. "I– well, they're mice-like creatures that only good children can see, right?"

"Er, not mice, but the rest is true," he sighed and you resisted the urge to pat yourself on the back. "They're... known for having strange reactions to emotions, specifically...."

"Love?" you finished, brain swirling with vague ideas of where this was going.

"That's one of them," Hylia, he sounded so nervous that your heart couldn't help but ache. "When a Minish loves, it's... it's not something that can be defined so easily. They're driven to do anything for their love, even if it means hurting themselves or others."

"You're not going to hurt me," you whispered, only to be met by a huff.

"That's what I said."

"Oh," you had no idea how to respond to that, so you pressed forward. "Is that what happened... you know?"

"Yes," Four answered, and, for a moment, you could have sworn his hands tightened like claws against your arm. "It's called a... rut."

You froze, a tidal wave of deja-vu washing over you at the use of the term. "That's– like a wolf?"

Four cringed against your neck, and you immediately regretted your previous choice of words. "Well, yes, but that's a... crude description of it," just as you blurted: "Oh my Hylia, I am so sorry."

A spark of electricity skittered down your spine at the gentle press of his lips against the base of your neck. "It's fine, I know you're new to this."

"Yeah..." you trailed off, still feeling bad about the accidentally racist comment. "But that doesn't excuse it."

"Don't worry about it," he murmured. "It sounds embarrassing, but it's still a part of my past."

You nodded, albeit sheepishly, and gathered your remaining strength to finish the blasted conversation: "What does that mean, then?"

"Pardon?"

"You said it was... like a wolf," Hylia, why did it sound so wrong to say?  "Does that mean...?"

There was silence as a shudder seemed to pass through Four's body.

"Four."

"...Yes."

You fell silent as the pieces began to form; the fever had only been a precursor to the change, and nearly a week had passed since symptoms first began to show, which meant he had been battling this alone for nearly that long.

"I'm so sorry," you breathed. The hand on your shoulder pulled back, and Four sat up in all his mussed-hair glory, expression slightly panicked, a noticeable waver in his tone when he spoke next.

"Don't apologize, I was the one who lied."

You shook your head, sitting up despite the leftover soreness. "I could have helped."

It was as if time had stopped. Four stared at you with more concentration than a starving man at a feast, and you felt a shiver of heat pool in your abdomen... until his expression shifted to one of hard resolve. "You know I can't–"

"Why not?" You countered swiftly before laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone, Four, so tell me what I need to do."

But Four maintained his shell-shocked gaze, seeming to become more panicked at your admission. "You're injured–"

"Then get a healing potion," you challenged. "And don't you dare make excuses; we're fixing this. Now."

Four didn't know whether to kiss you or run away. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to take you then and there, while the cacophony of voices in his brain yelled that he was mad if he was truly considering doing something so reckless to you while you were recovering from a wound he failed to protect you from.

He made his decision when you leaned forward to plant a kiss on his lips, quickly cupping your face to pull you in for another. Your hands found his shoulders, kneading lightly at the strong flesh in a way that made him want to pin you down and show you just how much he loved you.

But that was dangerous. A rut was not to be trifled with, and he would sooner die than push you into anything you weren't comfortable with.

"Four," your voice, now deliciously breathy, called as you shifted closer, nearly chest to chest with him. His hands ached to feel your skin beneath them, stroking and teasing and making you scream–

You arched into him as the kiss deepened, followed by a lightly-pained whimper that had alarm bells dinging inside his head.

"Wait," Four mumbled against your lips and you paused, eyes widening slightly. "If we're– you need a potion."

"Okay," you responded with a smile, watching as he stumbled off the bed to the door. Four pushed the heavy wood open, scanning the hallway for any signs of the others, only relaxing when there was none to be found. He was about to dart over to Hyrule's room when his foot nudged something on the floor.

It was a health potion, conveniently placed next to the frame. Too convenient, Four realized when he picked it up, noticing the note tied to the neck of the glass, which read a scrawled rendition of what he could only guess were the words 'have fun'.

"Four? What's that?" You called from behind him, and Four quickly tore the note off, allowing it to fall to the ground as he retreated into the refuge that was your room. Your eyebrows flew up as soon as you registered what he was holding. "...Is that a potion?"

"It was outside," Four didn't bother hiding how he had come across the item, uncorking it and handing it to you. You downed the liquid like a champ, grimacing cutely at the taste. He took the empty bottle and set it on the nightstand before climbing back onto bed.

As soon as his knees touched the fabric, your hands were on him again, movements far steadier than they'd been before. Four leaned into your touch as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, then both cheeks, and finished off on the tip of his nose. You drew back, eyes studying his face with a calculated gleam that he couldn't wait to ruin. "How do we do this?"

"Like before," Four murmured, and your lips were on his again, an arm wrapping around his back while the other tangled in his unconfined hair. The air around the two of you felt as if it had ignited, setting his body ablaze as he kissed you.

Four could have stayed like this forever, until your gentle hands coaxed him into your lap, and he became painfully aware of the true scope of the predicament. Your abdomen pressed firmly against his arousal, and he could only whimper as more heat pooled in his pelvis.

You swallowed the noises with ease, fingers digging gently into the flesh of his thighs as you arched experimentally against him. A thick moan spilled into the kiss, and your grip tightened minutely as you broke apart, panting softly.

"Is that good?" you asked softly, and he nodded, feeling slightly sheepish, though it didn't last long when his hands flew to your shoulders, hips lightly rolling against your stomach. Four leaned forward to kiss the front of your neck, lips brushing your bobbing throat with as much tenderness as he could muster. You sighed breathily and pulled his hips closer.

"I'm not made of glass," you murmured, nipping the outer lobe of his long ear, and Four couldn't have been more in love. "So don't treat me like I am."

"I know," one of his hands skimmed your side through your tunic, passing directly over the wound. You shivered some, and he made his decision. "But I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know," you echoed, and there was something so tender about the way you looked at him; like he was something to be treasured... like he was your treasure. Four felt his throat go dry at the realization, and he became painfully aware of how right Twilight had been. He was going to have to do something real nice for the rancher when this was over. "Now c'mere."

Your fingers dipped under the hem of his tunic with a hushed: "is this okay?" Four nodded helplessly, and you lifted the fabric off of him in one fluid motion, though he felt slightly self-conscious as your eyes roved over his form. His figure had always been a bit of a sore subject, whether it be height or... other attributes, but he couldn't help but feel, well, he felt rather loved at the appreciative sheen in your eyes. "Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?" was the first thing you murmured, and Four tried not to choke at the onslaught of emotion rushing through him.

"Once," he answered, feeling slightly bashful under your reservation-less gaze.

"Shame," Hylia, you were biting your lip. "What do you say we fix that?"

"How... do you propose we go about that?" He asked, knowing full-well what you meant. You grinned, pecking the tip of his nose.

"I have a few ideas."

The hand not glued to his thigh traveled slowly up his side with an almost featherlight touch, ghosting over the toned curve of his chest, and he let out a shaky exhale, shivering as a familiar tightness formed in his lower belly. You grasped him by the roots of his hair, and he could barely just stop the noise that threatened to spill from his lips when your other hand splayed directly over his abdomen, gingerly feeling the tight muscles. "Can I touch you here?"

"Y-Yeah," Four gulped thickly, nearly cutting himself off with a low moan of your name when you lightly cupped the bulge in his pants. Your answering chuckle rang in his ears, tongue darting out to flick the tip of his left ear.

Four swore under his breath as heat shot through his bones, licking hotly in every nook and cranny of his body. Your hand delivered a gentle squeeze to his clothed arousal, and, for a moment, he believed that you could very well have been a goddess sent from above to reward him for his sacrifices, to soothe the aches of all the blood, sweat, and tears he spent protecting his home. "Please," he pleaded, and you took mercy, slipping your hand beneath his waistband to free his throbbing cock, only to wrap your hand around the swollen length.

Four keened at the feeling of your soft, warm hand enveloping him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hands shot to wrap around your back, burying his face in your clothed chest while you laughed softly. "Feels good?"

As if you even had to ask, Four thought as you began to pump your hand experimentally. The hand in his hair kept his face firmly nuzzled between the sloping flesh of your breasts, and he wanted nothing more than to taste your bare, salty skin under his tongue. Preferably with your beneath him, calling his true name in a delicious haze of pleasure while he pounded deep into you. His teeth ached to bury themselves in the meat of your shoulder, marking you as his for as long as this lifetime would allow, but he forced himself to focus on the positively sinful motion of your equally sinful hand, muffling his noises in the solid warmth of your sternum. "Please, (Y/n)–"

"It's okay, I've got you," you coaxed lovingly, pulling his head up to connect your lips once more. He was panting by the time you broke apart, a familiar coil tightening in his belly. "That's it," you cooed, and his orgasm hit him like one of Wild's bombs, thick ropes of cum spurting out to coat your hand and his stomach. Four buried his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, wailing against your skin as you stroked him through his high. He felt boneless as the pleasure slowly faded, practically collapsing against your sweet body.

"Hylia..." he breathed, and you laughed airily.

"That good, huh?"

He didn't like how you said that; not because it was offensive or mean, but the clearness of your tone reminded his fading mind that you hadn't received anything in return for your efforts. Four frowned–there was no way in Hyrule he was letting that stand. "We're not done yet."

You blinked owlishly. "We're not?"

"No," Four intoned as he applied pressure to your shoulders, pushing you flat against the bed. You went willingly, staring up at him as he sat– no, perched, on your hips, holding your lower half down with his own. He leaned down, arms coming down to cage your upper half. "Now it's my turn."

You gulped thickly, a sure sign that you knew exactly where this was going, and he felt a rush of pride. Good. He wanted you to want him as he wanted you, to crave him as he craved you, to understand exactly what you had done to him... and to understand exactly how he was going to repay you.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" He asked, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses down the slender column of your throat. "I can't think straight around you."

"That's funny," you responded breathlessly, giggling softly when his nose brushed the sensitive flesh. "I could say the same about you."

Four laughed against the base of your neck, delivering a soft nip to your clavicle. You jolted, cheeks flushing pink as you yelped, but you said nothing to refute the action. "Has anyone told you how amazing you are?" He asked, and you grinned.

"Once."

You laughed softly at the tail end of the word, and Four wanted to make you laugh for as long as you would let him.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up far enough to reveal the bandaged expanse of your stomach. A twinge of guilt shot through him, but you seemed to anticipate his reaction quicker than he did. "It doesn't hurt," your hand cupped his cheek. "You gave me a potion, remember?"

He did, but it still felt wrong to–

"Four, I can hear you thinking from here," your voice tore him back to reality. "I'm fine, promise."

Four blinked, stared at the bandages once more, and took a deep breath. He trusted you enough to speak up for yourself, which was exactly what you were doing now, so how could he deny you? "You're right," his hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt, nestled just below your breasts. "Can I?"

You brought him in for a kiss, and it told him all he needed to know. Four brought the tunic up over your head, tossing it on the dresser with a grunt, leaving you in only your bindings and some leggings. He wanted those gone, and soon.

He began by dipping his head down, planting a steady kiss to your sternum, feeling the hard bone and smooth skin beneath his lips. His hands traveled up your sides until they reached your covered breasts, squeezing the mounds of flesh experimentally. You hissed and he swiped his thumbs curiously against your peaked nipples, and his tongue felt heavy at the thought of what else he could make your body do.

"F-Four," your hand tangled in his hair, clenching and unclenching in a way that sent shivers down his spine. "That... That's good."

"I know," he murmured, tongue tracing the small peak of your nipple over the bandages, and your chest shook as you giggled. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you responded, head falling back against the pillows with a soft sigh when his tongue swiped at your breast again, and it was everything he had ever wanted to hear.

Four hummed into the flesh of your breast, fingers tugging at the edges of your bindings. They needed to go. Now. He was just about to apply pressure when you gasped, batting his hands away. "Don't you dare! Do you know how long it took me to tie this?"

A whine that surprised even him slipped past Four's lips, but he dutifully sat back on your hips, hands still poised on your ribcage. "I can–" he began, only to have his hands batted away again.

"Nu uh, butts are for sitting," you sat up, hands reaching back to undo the bandages, and he was suddenly in your lap again, leaking cock bobbing insistently between your bare abdomens. "Don't even try to pretend you weren't going to tear them."

"I wasn't..." he said, like a liar, sitting obediently as you pulled the bindings from your chest, revealing your glorious breasts to his eager gaze.

"Oh, shut up," you cut in, though there was no real heat behind your words, not that he particularly cared when you leaned forward, inadvertently pressing his face directly into your tits. Four's hands immediately shot up to cup the sensitive flesh, relishing in the way your breathing deepened. His mouth watered as images of your breasts, dripping with spit and reddened from the attention he was about to lavish them with. "Ah-- Four."

"Yes?" He asked through a face-full of boob.

"You can... um, use your mouth," you trailed off, averting your eyes with a deepening flush.

Well, since you asked so nicely...

Four dove in with gusto, capturing a hardened nipple in his mouth while his fingers worked slowly against the other nub. You threw your head back with a soft whimper, hands gripping his shoulders tightly, and he took the opportunity to push you back down on the mattress, chest-to-stomach as he suckled on your trembling breast.

"Mmph!" You slung an arm over your eyes, and Four felt himself frown, capturing your wrist and yanking your arm above your head, holding it there. You yelped, but he merely sucked harder, scraping his teeth gently over your pebbled nipple, and a shocked moan left your parted lips. Good; he would be damned if he missed any one of your noises.

"Please," you groaned, the sound traveling straight to his cock. Your nipple slipped from his mouth with a lewd pop, and Four scooted up your body to press your lips together for the nth time. He could only imagine the noises you would make when he was buried deep inside you, and he was hellbent on discovering them.

"What is it?" He asked when you separated, gaze never faltering from your half-lidded one. Your flush darkened, eyes averting sheepishly, and he knew he had struck gold. "You can tell me," he coaxed, toying lightly with your nipple.

You bit your lip, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. "I... I want–"

"Use your words," Four encouraged, partly because he wanted to know what you wanted and partly because he liked seeing you squirm beneath him. He kissed the corner of your mouth, but you turned your head to close the gap once more. When you pulled away, he was pleased to see the look of resolve dawning in your eyes.

"I want you to touch me," you said, and he was more than happy to oblige, sitting up slightly to slide one of his hands over the seam of your leggings, drawing a pleased rumble from the depths of your chest. You sat up on your elbows, face flushed darker than he'd ever seen it. "Can you... my pants?"

Right. Pants. Four looked down and realized you weren't the only overdressed one here. Wobbling slightly, he slid to the side, shucking off his pants and undergarments before shifting back to start with yours.

"May I?"

Your nod was firm, and he quickly dragged the offending garments down your thighs and off of your legs, revealing your glistening sex to his awestruck gaze. Four tossed the material in the same general direction as his own clothes before focusing every ounce of his attention on you.

You were gorgeous; down to the gentle slopes of your calves, the quivering flesh of your thighs, the toned muscles of your stomach, and the heaving curves of your breasts, all just begging to be marked by him. Four could hardly contain himself as he scrambled back over you, the head of his cock poking insistently against your abdomen due to the height difference.

Your arms came up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a sweet kiss as your chests pressed together, heartbeat to heartbeat. He could have stayed like that for an eternity, cuddled against you like he belonged there.

"So," your voice broke him from his stupor, a mischievous glint in your perfect eyes. "What now?"

"Now," he reached down to slide his fingers against the soaked lips of your cunt, the pad of his thumb catching deliciously against your swollen clit. He could feel the warm, sticky heat of your arousal and it was driving him wild. You shuddered, and he ducked his head down to deliver a playful lick to your quivering stomach. "We find out what you like."

"O-Only if you let me do the same to you," you shot back in a noticeably shaky voice, tossing your head back to moan lowly when his teeth nipped your right breast hard enough to leave a small mark.

"Tell me what you want," Four echoed his past self, watching your every expression as his fingers delved into the searing depths of your cunt.

"Touch me?" you pleaded, and he did just that, capturing a bouncing teat in his mouth and sucking with enough force to have you mewling. His cock was rock-hard, glistening pearls of pre leaking down the weeping tip, but he forced himself to fight the raging instincts swirling inside him. There would be time for him later, when you had gotten more than enough of your share for everything you had done for him.

Four slid his fingers free of your velvety walls, bringing them to his mouth. He slowly licked the appendages clean, savoring the flavor of you as he maintained eye contact, relishing in the way your eyes went completely wide as you watched the spectacle. You tasted warm and sticky, like water on a dehydrated man's tongue, and Hylia knew Four was completely and utterly dehydrated for you. It was only when your eyes darkened and you whispered "do that again," in a vaguely commanding tone did he chuckle, licking a stripe up his pointer finger before they dipped back down to reacquaint with your dripping sex.

Four's heart fluttered when your cunt tightened around him, curling his fingers experimentally against your gummy walls. He had never done this before, but the other blacksmiths he worked with had been rather transparent with their encounters--a fact he was coming to appreciate more and more as the minutes ticked by. "Good?"

"You have no idea," you sighed. Four grinned, pressing deeper within you. He crooked his fingers again, brushing a vaguely spongy spot within you, and you jerked like you'd been electrocuted, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle what he was sure would have been a moan loud enough to wake half the inn. He repeated the motion, chuckling when your body shook again, cunt slicker than ever.

"How do you feel?" He asked in a half-joking tone, rubbing tender circles on your puffy clit.

"G-Good," you ground out, hands fisting the sheets. Pride blossomed in his chest at the desperate lit in your voice. "Four, I'm going to–... ah, if you keep this up–"

"You're so pretty," he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, taking the rounded lobe between his teeth, and the moan you let out was positively sinful.

"S-Stop talking," you panted, and he could have laughed if the look on your face wasn't so memorable. He crooked his fingers again, drinking in the keen that left you. You were close, he knew, and he was determined to give you as much as you had given him.

"I'm not lying," Four murmured, releasing your ear in favor of dipping down to suckle tender hickeys at your collarbone. "And I don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

"Shit," you swore, and the curse had never sounded better from your lips. He could feel his dick throbbing harder and harder, positively aching to bury itself within your warm, tight walls, but he steeled himself. "D-Don't stop, please."

Four chuckled, curling his fingers rather harshly against the spot from before while his thumb practically tenderized your poor clit. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Your cunt clenched down on him in rolling waves as you cried out, hips nearly arching off the bed if he hadn't pushed them down, forcing you to accept every ounce of pleasure he had to give. You thrashed in his hold, thighs shaking and head falling back against the pillows as your climax raged through every nerve in your body, so brightly blinding that you could hardly focus on anything but the feeling of his nimble fingers working you through your high. Only when your moans began to pitch into the realm of overstimulation did he stop, pulling away from your cunt with a lewd shlipp sound.

Four brought his fingers to his mouth again, licking them clean with a smug expression. You tasted almost as good as you felt, and he was sorely tempted to get a taste from the source, but the impatient throbbing of his leaking cock forced him to reconsider. Leaning forward, he cupped your sweat-streaked cheeks as you panted for breath. "Can you go again?"

Your eyes cracked open, peering at him through your lash line, and Four couldn't help but swoon at your disheveled gaze. "...Wha?"

"Do you want to keep going?" He rephrased, hoping to Hylia you said agreed.

Your eyelids slid shut, and he was about to call the whole thing off until your voice broke through the fog. "Y-Yeah, just... I need a moment."

"Take your time," Four murmured gently, settling flush against your body with his head resting snugly against your sternum, relishing in the small giggle that left you. One of your hands began caressing his hair, a rumble of satisfaction rattling within him.

"How are you feeling?" You asked after a comfortable silence had passed, and he could have kissed you right then and there.

"Great," he replied. "You?"

"More than that," thank Hylia, he thought. "...Have I told you I loved you yet?"

Four shot up in a flash, staring down at your face, wearing an expression that was too genuine to fake. A wave of heat shot through him, and he was almost positive the grin splitting his face was borderline embarrassing.

"I love you," you continued, and Four nearly choked at the onslaught of emotions rushing through him.

"I–" his mind felt fuzzy, like it was filled with love-soaked cotton. Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to kiss you, so he did. You returned it with a passion he thought only existed in children's stories, only breaking apart when your lungs burned from lack of air. "I love you too."

You cupped his cheek, kiss-swollen lips upturned in a blinding smile, and Four was sure he had ascended to the heavens, because there was no way the goddesses were this kind. "How do you want to do this?" you whispered, pressing featherlight kisses to his jawline.

Four's mind stuttered, but his mouth was already moving. "H-However you want."

"Then lay on your back," you purred, and it was quite possibly the sexiest thing he'd heard in his life. Four did as he was told, rolling off of you and landing on the unoccupied side of the mattress with a soft thump, sticky beads of pre dripping down his length.

Without missing a beat, you clamored atop him, straddling his hips as your hands planted themselves on his bare chest. Four's hands rested on your trim sides, just above the generous swell of your hips, groaning as your burning center pinned his cock against his body.

You bent down, hands still on his chest, and pressed your lips to his. Four moaned into the kiss when your core rubbed deliciously against his dick, sending shockwaves of pleasure down to pool in his pelvis. He was so hard it nearly hurt.  "Are you ready?" you asked as soon as you separated, and he could only nod helplessly, watching with wide, awestruck eyes as you guided the head of his arousal to the drooling lips of your pussy, giving him one last grin before you sank down.

The two of you groaned in tandem as you took him inch by glorious inch, until your hips connected with a lewd smack. "Link," you whimpered, and he was convinced he had died and gone to heaven. "Y-You feel so good."

It took everything in him not to roll you over and show you just how good he could make you feel, so Four gave a pleasured groan and reached up to fondle your breasts. You wiggled and panted, sending searing bolts of heat straight to his dick.

"A-Are you alright?" The smithy whispered, fearing you had hurt yourself.

"I-I'm fine," you responded breathlessly, wiggling a few more times. Four watched in awe as you raised your hips, using your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself, and slammed back down with enough force to knock the wind from him. He squirmed beneath you as you repeated the motion, drawing moans from both your throats. The cycle continued as you kept pace, rising and falling with more conviction than the sun itself, with Four gripping the meat of your thighs, mouth spewing frantic encouragement as you practically pounded him to the bed.

The air was filled with heavy slapping noises, broken, off-kilter moans, and heavy panting, but Four couldn't have cared less as he coaxed you to continue riding him. Only when you moaned, long and loud as his cock grazed your sweet spot, and your scent practically doubled, did Four act.

You yelped when abruptly he sat up, grabbing your wrists with one hand and using the other to flip you, somehow managing to keep his cock buried deep inside you as he forced you, face down and ass up, on the mattress. "H-Hey--" only to be cut off when he pulled out and slammed back in, knocking the words from your mouth.

You screamed a broken rendition of Four's true name as he rutted you like an animal, balls slapping against your oversensitive clit with such ferocity that you nearly came right then and there. "You have no fucking idea, do you?" Four's voice snarled in your ear, but there was something dark embedded in his tone that had you crying out.

A shrill wail left you when his muscled front pressed firmly against your back, his hand ducking beneath your hips to rub deft circles on your overstimulated clit, while the other wriggled under your body to deliver a hearty squeeze to your right breast. The coil in your belly tightened unimaginably... until it broke and you gushed all over him like a tidal wave.

Four growled, slamming his hips to yours with a drawn-out groan. His dick throbbed, and ropes of hot seed spurted into your clenching core, all but coating your walls with his essence. He rocked into you for a few seconds, exhausted out of his mind, and caught your hips when they began to sway.

A short whimper left you when he slowly pulled out of you, a large dollop of cum blurting from your abused cunt, gathering your spent body into his arms. Four brought you to the head of the bed, tucking you under the once rumpled blankets as black spots danced in the corners of his vision, settling beside you with a contented sigh. You made a noise and immediately wrapped your arms around him, cuddling him to your chest like a teddy bear.

For a long while, neither of you said anything, basking in the comfortable silence.

"...I can't believe you didn't tell me," your tired voice filtered through the room.

"I can't believe you didn't run away screaming," he shot back, voice reverberating against your sternum, and the soft smack you delivered to the back of his head was so worth it.

"Idiot," maybe so, but he was your idiot. "I was in a war, remember? You can't scare me."

"That's what you think," said Four, adjusting his head slightly to better hear the steady beat of your heart. He had already been laid bare beneath you, both physically and emotionally, so what was the harm in another one of his secrets coming to life?

"...Four."

"Yes?"

"Please tell me you're not four remlits in a Hylian body."

Four blinked, temporarily detaching from your skin to process the absurdity of that particular statement. "...Excuse me?"

You coughed and held him tighter. "I had to make sure, it's really hard to tell when Time's making stuff up or not–"

"Time said that?!"

"It's not a big deal," you deflected, sounding far too nonchalant for someone who had been pounded less than five minutes ago. "So, are you going to tell me or do I have to answer three of four riddles correctly?"

"I can't believe you just said that," he interrupted with a deadpan, and your wide grin only made it marginally better.

"Thanks, neither can I."

"...I'm going to bed," said Four, settling back against your chest, quietly pondering how in Hyrule he had managed to survive thus far without you. Sweet, wonderful, devilish you, who had captivated him since day one. "Sleep well, my love."

"Only if you do too, honey bunch," you teased back, giggle-yelping when he pinched a nipple in retribution. "Listen here, you little s–"

"Can't hear you when I'm asleep," Four responded in a sing-song tone, snuggling closer with a relaxed sigh. 

THE SMUT IS HERE!!! You'll all be pleased to know that this isn't the end of this saga, so stay tuned for more!

[chris-prank]

I'm sorry Vincent, but the guys reaction to zombie apocalypse (The Last of Us type).

I need them reacting to their darling being like ellie, immune. And ppl trying to kill darling for the cure.

Real q from the #1 Vincent fan, his official wife: will he thrive due to danger against his darling or will he crumble to fear and lose what he loves the most?

It's only after writing for all of them that I realized you were referring to The Last of Us kind of apocalypse 💀 so sorry about that

CW: Zombies, murder, yandere behaviours, possessiveness, manipulation and kidnapping?

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Dr. Seraph/Vincent

🧪 It is a surprise to no one that he would be horrified, his worst nightmare literally becoming reality in front of his own eyes.

🧪 Dr. Seraph would automatically build a bunker in response and spend all of his time creating weapons to keep zombies far away from him. He would also use his robots to go get supplies and food, but you would need to be the one controlling them because even simply seeing a zombie on the screen makes him dizzy.

🧪 And to answer your question, Dr. Seraph will one hundred percent save you from zombies if you find yourself unable to fight them off or escape. For all his patheticness and shyness, Vincent isn’t a criminal for no reasons. There’s a part of him that can be ruthless if needed, and seeing his darling in danger is the type of moment where something clicks in his brain. He might still close his eyes while he shoots them though… So in short, yes he will protect his one and only darling from his worst fear.

🧪 “Everything w-will be fine! I’ll… I’ll just build a laser around our home, tha-that way I won't have to deal with t-them…”

🧪 He would also be so relieved if his darling is immune, because it means that he doesn’t need to worry about you turning into one of those monsters.

🧪 Obviously, he wouldn’t let anyone take you to make a cure. He would rather have a zombie apocalypse than having his darling killed.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Esteban

📈 Being the rich guy that he is, the second that the news announces that there is a virus going around and turning people into zombies, you and Esteban will be on your way to a private island on his private plane.

📈 You wouldn’t have to worry about your friends and family because he would bring them too, after having them go through a very intense medical exam. The last thing he wants is for you to get infected after all. So a zombie apocalypse would be pretty chill with him.

📈 “It-It's alright love! Just think of this as a prolonged vacation!”

📈 If by some fortunate circumstance you get bitten and come out unarmed. Esteban would be so thankful to any force, either biological or supernatural that protected you. He just knew his precious love was special!

📈 If people came after you for a cure, I’ll hire trusted individuals to get rid of the rumors and kill these pests that dare entertain the thought of taking you away from him.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Atlas

💿 Atlas would enter protection mode in a blink of an eye, so no going out for you under any circumstances. He would totally use the “my human” card a lot to manipulate you into staying at your hideout.

💿 This situation would 100% make Atlas stresseeeed.

💿 He might look like his usual deadpan self, but inside he’d feel like his wires are going to pop. Because of it, Atlas would give you medical check ups, two times a day, every day of every week as long as the virus would be around.

💿 At least, being an android gives him an advantage since it’s impossible for him to get infected, making it easier for him to venture out to get food and supplies, but he’d still need to be wary of getting attacked by survivors.

💿 “You can't come with me! You could get hurt and… I don’t want to see my human in pain.”

💿 He would be amazed if you were immune, due to his system making him very curious and eager to learn more, especially if it’s about you.

💿 To the surprise of no one, Atlas would kill anyone that would try to kidnap you for a cure. And he wouldn’t be merciful about it, hurting them just enough so they die a long and painful death.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Martin

🪓 A zombie apocalypse wouldn’t even surprise him at this point, especially after everything he had seen.

🪓 Since the human population had decreased after everything that happened in his world and considering that Flowermore was a small town in the countryside, the undead wouldn’t be too much of a bother.

🪓 At the very least they would only need to build a barricade around the town just to be sure.

🪓 If the virus would end up affecting the townsfolk, you would still be relatively safe since no need to remind you that Martin is a bounty hunter.

🪓 For him, killing a living person or a walking dead body doesn’t make a difference, except for the fact that they would be even easier targets.

🪓 On top of that, his home, being outside town and into the forest, is surrendered by different types of traps. Needless to say you would be in good hands.

🪓 “Don’t worry darlin’, I’ll blow up their brains before they even get the chance to notice you.”

🪓 Martin would be happy and horrified if you are immune, because it means that you have a better chance at survival but you would also become sought after at the same time.

🪓 He would easily hunt down every person that plans to get you to make a cure, Eli style at the end of the second The Last of Us game.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I’m cheating a bit since Jacce wasn’t out when you send this ask so it didn’t include him 😅

You know what they say: « work smarter not harder »

[familyagrestefanblog]

I hope Miraculous.to fixes the episode file quickly, cause I wanna see the whole episode before fully commencing on the memory wipe situation

Cause as I see it now from the information I'm gathering here, it's a case of Alya placing trust in her best friend that isn't exactly warranted and will most likely prove itself as such because Marinette is not gonna tell the truth on her own

And Chat Noir behind left too far in the dark by both girls again to be able to make an informed decision HIMSELF on whether he wants to perform this new memory wipe power. He's basically used as a power vessel for the resolution of the girls' conflict, but isn't allowed to decide himself if he actually agrees with the consequences his power usage will have. Because neither of the girls, and especially not Maribug who will say whatever vague lie or excuse to smooth things over, care about Chat having actual agency.

As far as I can see now, this episode is not helping Marinette's flaw at all that she rather views Chat Noir's powers and involvement as a means to an end that serves her benefit and comfort than him being an actual partner and equal.

The one and only time in 6 seasons where Marinette is shown to be anything close to supportive of Chat Noir using his powers in more ways than what keeps him as small and controllable as possible, and it's done when letting him do it serves her benefit and comfort and excessive need to not face any consequences for her lies and secrets.

I wished I could enjoy her being supportive and looking proud, but the circumstances around her FINALLY not deliberately keeping Chat Noir as small as possible makes it impossible for me right now. I hope this changes when I get to watch the whole episode, but right now? Maribug still looks like a damn coward who prioritizes people not being angry with her over actual justice and fairness and is only supportive of Chat Noir when it serves her benefit and comfort while she KNOWS that he doesn't get to know the full extent of what his actions will cause in the long run.

[infiniteeight8]

Manipulative Stephen (final part)

Prompt: Can we get more manipulative Stephen? Pretty please with a giant cherry on top?

@quasaranthonybutterfly Despite the fact that you have a new username, this still arrived in my e-mail notifications but not in my Tumblr inbox, same as last time. Who even knows why, with Tumblr.

Anyway! Here is the last piece of the Manipulative Stephen mini-series. 😀

Previous parts: Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4. 

Behind a cut because this got *really* long (for a ficlet).

-

Tony has been pulling away from him.

Stephen isn’t entirely sure when it started. Plenty of his lifetimes included arguments and missteps in their relationship, especially early on, before Stephen knew Tony quite so well, but he knows that he hasn’t repeated any of those mistakes. It’s unsettling, and alarming, because if this is some new issue, then he… doesn’t know how to fix it.

After fourteen million lifetimes, you’d think it would be impossible for anyone to surprise him, but Tony… Well, Tony is remarkable.

Eventually, Stephen falls back on asking. They haven’t had a date night in a while, but he finds Tony in the lab and is relieved when not only does his access still work, but the bots still greet him with cheerful chirps. Not too far gone to fix, then. Even if Tony doesn’t look up from his work.

Stephen pulls up a stool close by, but not too close, and waits for Tony to sigh heavily and set the gadget aside. “What is it?”

“You’re upset with me,” Stephen says carefully. “But I don’t know why. I’d like the chance to fix it, if I can.”

Tony just looks at him for a long moment. “What makes you think I’m upset?”

Stephen clamps down on a surge of uncertainty. No going back now. “You haven’t dropped by the Sanctum in a while,” he says. “We haven’t been on a date in two weeks. And you’ve stopped texting me.”

“I still text you,” Tony says.

Stephen shakes his head. “You reply. You don’t initiate.”

Tony blows out a breath. “I guess this isn’t really something I can figure out without talking about it,” he says, annoyed. Stephen waits. Finally Tony turns to face him directly. “In the Avengers debriefing two weeks ago, you said that you knew how the fight was going to go because you’d seen it before.”

“Yes.”

“In the fourteen million lifetimes,” Tony adds.

“Yes,” Stephen frowns.

“Which means you saw a lot more than just the path to beating Thanos,” Tony says. 

Trepidation fills Stephen. “I never knew what circumstances would be important,” he says carefully. “I had to try everything.”

Tony nods. “You must have gotten to know us pretty well. All of us.”

“Yes,” Stephen says. 

Tony sets his jaw. “Stephen. Did you suggest that I ask Pepper about the bots because you knew how Pepper would react? And how I would?” Stephen doesn’t know what his face does, but it must be expressive, because anger tightens Tony’s voice when he goes on. “And you knew just how to lure me into a relationship, didn’t you? That’s even why you waited for me to make the first move: because you didn’t want me to realize it was all your idea.”

“I never lied to you,” Stephen says intently. There has to be a way to save this. Tony hadn’t shut him out, not completely. “I never influenced anyone’s actions in any way. Not yours, and not anyone else’s. Maybe I picked the right words, but the reactions were still genuine.”

Tony slaps the top of his work bench, hard. “You don’t have to lie to be dishonest!” He pushes himself up off the stool and paces a few steps away before spinning to face Stephen again. “You’ve been playing me.”

“I have not,” Stephen snaps. He stands, too. “Nothing about this has been a game to me, Tony. I know we can be happy together. Really, truly, genuinely happy.”

“And that justifies breaking up the relationship I was already happy in?”

“That was your choice.”

“That you knew I’d make,” Tony shoots back.

“Would you rather not know how Pepper feels about the bots?” Stephen asks, incredulous. “Are you really going to pretend you believe ignorance is bliss when it comes to them?” Tony doesn’t speak, but Stephen can see him falter. “Tony, when you were sick with the palladium poisoning, why didn’t you tell Pepper and Rhodey that you were dying?”

Tony scowls. “What does that—”

“Please,” Stephen begs. He’s not above it. Not for this. 

“I didn’t want to hurt them,” Tony says tightly. “There wasn’t anything they could do to help. It would have torn them apart.”

“You knew how they’d react, and you wanted to spare them the pain,” Stephen says. Tony looks away. “I knew how you’d react, and I wanted to make you happy. Why is that worse?”

It takes Tony a minute to answer. “I feel like you’re running this relationship,” he says finally. “Like it doesn’t matter what I think or feel, it’s all up to you.”

Stephen can’t help it: he laughs. Tony’s glare is fierce. “I’m sorry,” Stephen says. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I know how you’ll react to some things, even a lot of things, but I can’t change those reactions. Tony, what you think and feel dictates everything I do.” He smiled wryly. “Just in advance, instead of after the fact.”

Stephen can almost see events rearranging themselves in Tony’s head. “Why bother?” he asked finally. “Why rearrange everything just so I fit neatly into it?”

“Because I love you,” Stephen says simply. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t see this argument coming, and no, I’m not saying that to derail it. We never had this argument in any other timeline. It’s just the truth. I love you, and any adjustment is worth it if it means having you in my life.”

“What do I even do with that?” Tony bursts out. “You love me and you’ve manipulated me and I… I have been happy.” He looks torn.

Stephen risks taking a step closer. “That’s not a bad thing,” he says softly. “You’re allowed to be happy, Tony. You don’t have to earn it. Just… let me make you happy. Please.”

“By any means necessary?” Tony asks dryly, but he doesn’t retreat when Stephen closes the distance between them.

“I would never do anything that would drive you away,” Stephen promises. Carefully, he pulls Tony into his arms. 

Tony snorts. “Am I ever going to win an argument with you?”

Stephen quirks an eyebrow. “You win all the arguments we never have.”

“That is not the same thing,” Tony says, poking Stephen in the chest. 

“Of course you will,” Stephen says. After all, Tony liked winning, and what Tony liked, Stephen would provide. “My knowledge is extensive, but it isn’t perfect. Witness this argument, which I didn’t see coming.”

“Still won it, though,” Tony returns.

Stephen’s heart soars. “Have I?”

Tony gives him a look. “Don’t rub it in.”

Stephen kisses him, then, because anything else he could say probably would.

Tony kisses back. 

That’s all that matters.

[ronintales]

So When I Die. | Gojo Satoru

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 | following gojo satoru’s death, his ex wife is in charge of taking care of his funeral service and everything else that comes with it.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 | 4,676 words

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | character death, possible spoilers, funeral, angst, mentions of not eating, and not proofread ;p

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | I did NAWT want this to be my first work on here but due to certain circumstances…. AHEM his DEATH!!!! I felt it was necessary because laik… grief LOL. I wrote this a while back tho. Enjoy.

Your ex-husband is dead, and in his line of work, yes, you know that he has a higher risk of dying than the average person, but still, death never comes expected, does it? Even if he always says—oh wait… used to, you suppose, say that he was crazy strong and no one could ever take him down. Well, he was wrong in the end like a bunch of other things. Like how well he took care of you, how he’d give you six kids, how—you won’t ramble, noting he’s dead now and there’s no point, but also because it’s quite rude of you to talk down on someone who is dead and can’t defend themselves. Whatever.

You just… don’t expect it. Yes, you understood he was hard headed and insanely cocky, but in a way… you always believed that he would always come home alive and, even if he did get hurt, he would be okay eventually as he heals. You don’t forget it, he’s only human, you know because of the many mistakes he’s made, but still… he’s… he’s gone?

You hesitated when you heard that. Gojo Satoru, the so-called love of your life from two years ago, is dead? Impossible, you think. Gojo Satoru found death embarrassing, with all the things he said. He said that he would be okay. He was always okay. What are you supposed to say to that?

When you get the call, you wonder why you, of all the people in his life, were the one they called to inform about his status. Why did you have to go to his place and clean out all his things? Take all his belongings with you? At first, your instinct was to say “throw it all away,” because what does Gojo Satoru mean to you now? You’re not his wife! He neglected you for years and filled your days and nights with sorrows. He broke your heart. But still, he didn’t mean nothing to you at the same time.

Those precious years of being his acquaintance in middle school. When you had shorter hair and he didn’t know much about you other than you were in his class and he had bought you cute white socks for your class gift exchange on Christmas that year. The long years that Gojo Satoru pined for you after you both attended the same high school. The hard and dark times he went through losing Suguru and shutting you out, though he loved you for so long. When you turned twenty, and Satoru had gotten better, to the point where he felt he was ready to move on and continue with his pursuit for you. When you turned twenty-three, and got married to him on a spur. When you moved in and shared a bed, until the marriage got cold and most nights you spent alone.

You couldn’t say for the past fourteen years, Gojo Satoru was nothing at all to you. The news was shocking, and knowing he was dead… did you have to be careful about how you felt about him, or how you thought of him? Well, now that he is dead, should you be so ruthless and hostile toward the man who broke your heart? You don’t know, so naturally, and it really just slips out, you agree to take care of the process of his passing.

For the most part, you’re calm. You don’t actually know how to feel, and you don’t know how to be. You’re not his wife, you have no obligations to take care of him, or anything that he cared about. Yet, you’re here. In his lonely apartment that doesn’t even smell like him. He probably never even spent much time in this place, even so, he still had a lot of belongings. Pictures of you in frames surprisingly. He did take them all when you got divorced and he moved out of the house, you just didn’t expect that he’d put them up on display. He probably didn’t get many visitors to question him about the lady in his pictures. You were sure that would get annoying.

Anyway, you don’t know if you’re supposed to cry or even feel sad. You don’t know if it’s strange to feel that way or not. You can’t quite make out how you feel, being surrounded by Gojo Satoru’s personality and things. You don’t think too much about the things inside the apartment because you don’t want to be too reminded of what you used to be. What you felt about the man once upon a time. If there was still love in your heart for him.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t a slob, but he wasn’t clean either by any means. Given he probably didn’t stay here much, it made sense that you didn’t need to clean a whole lot of the apartment. You get there and you take it all in. Satoru’s little apartment, because he didn’t want to pay for such a luxurious place he wouldn’t even stay in. Maybe that kind of place made him feel more alone too. Thoughts you should not be thinking start to trickle into your brain, but you stop yourself. You shouldn’t feel bad for leaving, nor should you want to go back. You made a decision to leave and you should honor it. It was the right thing to do for yourself (hopefully).

Do you even want his things? No, not really. But you have a keep, donate, and a throw away bin anyway. Most of it keeps going to the keep bin and donation box. Somehow the feeling of someone else getting Gojo Satoru’s things is unsettling to you, but it’s even worse to think that all these things will just go to a landfill where things that were once valued are forgotten and it’s all going to be considered “trash.” Maybe that’s because you know why every item is there and the story behind that certain mug or decor piece. You don’t know it, but you’re trying your best not to care.

You sigh, the thought that this is all so strange, bothering and pestering you like an annoying fly. You tell yourself you know that already, so stop thinking about it. Maybe you’re in denial that Gojo Satoru is actually gone. You can feel him. He’s still there, you know it. That or you’re just surrounded by his belongings and that’s why his presence is here.

In your hand, you hold a big black garbage bag as you make your way to his bedroom to clear out his closet. This is a room of his that you haven’t been to, strange right? You wondered if another woman spent time here. Jealous much? You’re supposed to be clearing out your ex-husband’s apartment, not pondering about what he was up to after you two had split. The man is dead for one, what are you going to do about it? Confront his dead body? You shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, so that thought is one you shake off and ignore too.

You sigh because you’re tired from cleaning all day and clearing his things out and you’re probably only a quarter’s way done with the place. It’s not even that big, it’s just been uncomfortably hard for you to bring yourself here with your mixed and strange feelings about this whole situation. Isn’t there anyone else who cares about Gojo Satoru? How come you’re stepping up to the plate when this is how you feel—confused and unsure? What are you even going to do for the funeral? You took the task up because Gojo Satoru would probably turn in his grave knowing the higher ups organized his funeral. So while it is strange for you to do all of this, you’ve rationalized the lot of this situation that you put yourself in. Once upon a time, he loved you right? So surely he would prefer you over—you’re so silly, thinking all these things when Gojo Satoru is your dead ex-husband.

You plop on the bed with a small groan as you turn over. This is a bit inappropriate, to be laying on your ex husband’s unmade bed. It’s left in the state that it was the last time he woke up. That’s a little precious you think, freely, not even denying it. Are you ruining this precious thing here? Well, in all honesty, you’re kind of cherishing it, because this is a small piece of Satoru that is really still here in the present times. He always liked soft things and this blanket is soft. The sheets still smell like your ex-husband. The light musk of his skin and his soap is there. The thought of this bed being his is comfortable enough. Like you miss his warmth and touch, you curl up on the mattress, hugging yourself to the scent of him surrounding, and you can almost imagine that he’s holding you right now, like he used to. His detergent is faintly there too, well actually, it’s the same as yours. He asked when you two had split and he was settling into his own place all the household items you used. You supposed that it was all he knew.

You offered to go shop for household things with him and it was probably the last time you two had exchanged any kind of affection. You let him put his hand on your thigh as he drove you two to the supermarket. He let you link your arm with his, sides flush together like you two didn’t just get divorced. It was a silent message of “I miss you,” because it was and—quite frankly, still is—hard to get over someone you loved for so long. Even if he left the marriage long before you did, emotionally and physically. This was something you wanted while you married, for Satoru to present, and in your arms. For him to show you that he cared and loved you. You were even a little upset that was the only time he was doing all of that for you, but you chose not to ruin the moment for the both of you.

Funny how all these memories and things between the two of you are flooding in constantly. It makes you feel kind of sick. Nauseous and unable to breathe. You open your eyes in realization of what you’re doing right now. You sit up immediately, flustered and embarrassed as if Satoru would open the door right now and have that annoying smug grin on his face with his arms crossed, just to say as he leans on the door frame, “I knew you missed me.” Following with your name because he liked your name the best. He always said your name was pretty and he wouldn’t give you a pet name because nothing will ever be as great as calling you by your name. A nice little reminder that Satoru loved your name makes you smile a bit. Weird how all of these just keep piling up. One thought triggers another and it almost makes you itch and feel bad for the way things ended between the two of you. You almost have regrets about—

Whatever, you have a deadline to clean this place up you remind yourself. You spread your palms out on the sheets once more, feeling every thread that Satoru once laid his body on. You should take these for your bed, you think. They’re not so bad, just a plain white sheet, but it reminds you of Satoru’s hair and it would be waste.You lift yourself from the bed and open his closet, not even noticing how you keep having to make excuses for yourself to keep some of his things.

Already feeling overwhelmed because you keep holding back, opening the closet makes you feel like you’re cracking. You let out a suppressed sound. You can’t even register what it sounds like. A squeak or something? But looking at all his clothes almost makes everything so real for you. All his uniform? All his coats and sweaters? Ah, the one from high school. And then you can see all the ones you bought him. Damn, does that really test your strength.

Lined up neatly and nicely put away, it’s almost a shame to you to give these away. Your hand shakes as you hesitantly reach for one of his favorite button ups. Your skin meets the soft fabric and you only lightly touch it because you don’t want to wrinkle it. You remember when you used to iron Satoru’s clothes early in the morning before he woke up. Even until the end of your marriage, you still ironed them.

You look up, reaching for his work uniform. This is what he wore most often, you know that. So you let yourself crumble. Carefully taking off the hanger and sitting on his bed as you hold the shirt close to you. You bring it to your nose, just to smell it. You wish it smelled like Satoru more, but even so, it makes you break down.

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you take another sniff. The thought that Satoru really isn’t here anymore makes your heartbreak. It comes crashing down on you. You really miss him, and you regret that you didn’t spend as much time as you would have liked to with him. You wish you could have had the courage to tell him how much you still cared and loved him. Yes, it might not have been the same kind of love you had for him before, but you did still love him.

You let out a little sob. In frustration and despair, tears flow out as you hold his clothes close to you. The walls of your bruised heart collapses as you hold his clothes so tight as if he was still in them. Well, you really do wish he was. You’re desperate to feel him in your arms physically. Just a moment with him so you could say your last sentiments. Just a moment to see him again. Just a moment to love him.

You’re helpless as your tears flow endlessly onto his shirt. You feel silly, but you just can’t stop. You really miss Satoru, and you have been for so many months now. You stroke the shirt as you would his body, wallowing in the grief you’re supposed to feel, even if the dead man is your ex-husband. You spent so many years loving him, how could you just not feel anything to hear news of his death? How could you not feel any regret or remorse for how messy you left things with him? There’s so many things you want to say to him, and it kills you to know you will never get to say any of it to him.

You wonder if Satoru was still around, would he wrap his arms around you and tell you not to cry? Would he kiss your temple like he always did when you were down? You wish he would just do all of it. You wish you two could have tried harder. Your love for him never burned out, you know that much. It’s the reason why you’re here, alone in his room crying as you hold his clothes dearly to you. And even if you hate to say it, even if you don’t want to admit it, Satoru loved you until the very end too.

“I’m still in love with you y’know…”

“Shut up,” You mutter as you slide the eggs off the pan for the hungry man at the table.

It was the dead hours of the night when he returned from a mission, knocking on your door, telling you that he was hungry and needed a place to crash.You slammed the door on him of course, but he wedged his foot in the gap of the door (no, it didn’t hurt, he’s got magical powers that prevent him from actually getting hurt like damn maniac) and used his strength against you to push his upper body through the door to beg you to let him stay. It was a mistake on your part, but it actually wasn’t all that terrible that night. You were just bitter.

“My bad,” Satoru said dramatically as he took a bite. “Just thought you missed me. That’s the reason you let me in, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not in the mood for any of his games. His smug grin made everything even worse, because he was right. “Gojo Satoru, wipe that grin off your face.”

“Must have hit a nerve,” He teased like it was still appropriate to do so.

You actually don’t even remember what you said then after that, but you just know… Gojo Satoru has you all figured out yet… he never said anything about it to you. And that was just him. He knew well enough not to break your heart one more time, but he was selfish enough to constantly flirt with you any time he could. If he passed by, or was coming home late from a mission and knocking on your door to remind you that he existed. Not anymore.

After cleaning his apartment, it’s all empty now. Which is a little strange. You’ve never even been to his place until after he died, and yet… it makes your stomach turn and feel upset after realizing that this place is no longer where your ex-lover resides. You understand that he’s no longer occupying it. There’s no point in keeping it for him. But maybe because you don’t think it through while you’re still in the grieving process. You don’t think about Gojo Satoru being dead because you don’t want to. It makes your heart squeeze and your breath stop. You can’t face the fact that he no longer exists and you can no longer see him anymore. You just can’t, so you wonder: where will his home be? Who's going to take care of him? Where is he going to go to shelter himself from the rain or snow? Where is he going to sleep? Where can he feel safe and secure?

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. You really need to get some proper rest. You feel yourself withering in the bitter feelings you still have toward Satoru, but also the dangerous sorrow that’s sinking your whole body down. You can’t believe that you really miss Gojo Satoru after all this time hating him and wishing you two had never met when he was here and alive, waiting for you to just cave into what your heart wanted. Truth is though, you never would. You were too strong for that.

Finally, you pack up the final things, leaving absolutely nothing behind. Satoru isn’t here anymore, and it looks exactly like that. This little corner of the world isn’t his anymore, and you’d like to say that it never was because he didn’t spend much of his time in this place. It’s just sad to see it all gone, stripped to the bare white box it actually is without the fun of your late ex-husband. You shut the door, leaving this place behind and bringing this part of Satoru with you, maybe the only part of Satoru that is still worldly and able for you to have in your grasp. You leave the key to his apartment on the landlord’s desk and leave with the rest of Satoru’s things in your arms, all thrown in the cardboard box labeled “Satoru” in your handwriting with a permanent marker. Silly of you to not even realize it, Gojo Satoru’s home is not a place, it’s you.

The end of it was the funeral process. Which was much more work than cleaning his apartment. You wish somebody was worried about your well-being, but that somebody, the most likely candidate, was dead. Satoru would have told you to chill out a bit and ask you to wind down with him, but this is his funeral, he can’t really do that now, can he? But you don’t want to seem like you’re so reliant on him. You’ve done plenty of things without him, and this will be no exception. He just… sort of made the process easier and bearable. You’re on your 10th phone call with the carpenters of the coffin when you really wish you didn’t take on the task of carrying out Satoru’s dying wishes. He didn’t even have many, because he was so sure he wasn’t going to die so soon.

Through it all, you hold yourself together quite elegantly. Even through the eulogy. No one would even guess the mental strain you put yourself through to make this all happen. All the floral arrangements are beautiful, Satoru’s corpse is dressed nicely—though you grace him with a closed casket funeral because you were sure that he did not want anyone to see him so vulnerably lifeless and you simply could not handle the sight of his stale and unresponsive body. But everyone could indeed tell, Gojo Satoru was loved. They could understand your love for the man. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t love him. But you just deny it.

His guest list was quite large. Some people you didn't even know, and you were sure he did not want that. But the higher ups had their own agenda too, and you had to make compromises though you stood your ground quite well for the sake of your late ex-husband's well being in the afterlife. You wonder, would Satoru love you for eternity for loving and caring for him unconditionally and so thoroughly? When you eventually join him, will he thank you for so meticulously planning and giving him a proper send off? You hope so. You hope that he will continue to love you in the next lifetime, and in that lifetime, you two will be happily together. Not miserably apart like you are now.

Maybe the only time anyone can see you break is when the casket is lowered and this is the last time that you’ll ever see Satoru’s face again, except you don’t. His casket is closed and covered with all the flowers you bought to send him off beautifully. There’s a complex look on your face, and no one could quite read it, but it was clear that there was a storm going on inside of you, stirring and rumbling. Your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes glossy with a down turn of your lips. You’re just keeping yourself together for Satoru. You need to.

The only time you get to break down about it is when you get home from the long day. Crumbling down your door, as you miserably sob. How could the world be so possibly cruel that you had to bury the last man you loved for the past ten years? It never gave you time to move on. You weren’t ready to let go just yet and be content with the distance. Sure, you asked for it when he was still tangible, but now he was untouchable, not existing, and it felt so painful. You curl up in a ball, on the bed you used to share with him. The bed you two used to gossip on and the bed where you simply just held him to sleep on your good days. The bed that you laid alone for most nights wishing he’d come to hold you and not be too tired for you. All the bad and good memories come to make you think of one thing; you wish Satoru was here right now.

You lay there, contemplating if you just want to stay there for the whole week or get up and cook yourself something. You haven’t been eating with how hectic it’s been to take care of Satoru’s send off. You sigh, closing your eyes. Sleep sounds like the best thing to you at the moment. You were drained and exhausted from preserving the life of Gojo Satoru as well as commemorating it. You needed that rest.

When you drift into sleep, you kind of hope that Satoru is there for you, waiting in a field of beautiful flowers like he came to visit you in a dream. Even if it’s just your imagination. You’d like to think that he cared enough that he left you alone to deal with all of the things he left behind. He doesn’t though, because you don’t dream. You just black out and you wonder if you’ll ever dream again. But maybe you’re just being dramatic because you miss your ex-husband so much. You blink the tears out from your eyes, wiping them before getting up and pulling yourself together. You can be sad, but not miserable. You were never the type to just crumble, however, even this shook you down to the very ground and yes, it is hard to get back up. But everything with Satoru was hard, and this was no different. You should have been used to this.

Eventually, you do get yourself together. Sad, but you’re functioning. You go back to work and you continue with your daily life. Satoru’s never really been a part of your daily routine after the 3rd year of being married to him. It was no different not seeing him at all, but it was just the fact that he truly wasn't there anymore. If you were to call his cell, it would just ring on your dresser in your room and go to voicemail. Sometimes, you wait for the voicemail just to hear his voice, but most times you stay away from his contact. You’re recovering, just slowly.

People at work send their condolences, just like they did when they found out you divorced Gojo Satoru. They give you a pitiful look and tell you to be strong, but when they think you’re not listening they bash Satoru for passing and still putting the responsibility of carrying his will out on his ex wife—you. You don’t defend him nor does what they say settle well with you. They’re right, of course. Gojo Satoru has always been selfish, up until his last breath, but you just can’t seem to feel validated when you’re the one who buried Gojo Satoru. He was once your whole world, how could you just completely numb yourself to the pain of losing your connection with him, absolutely and completely?

Apparently, you’re the only person on his will too. You inherit everything of his one day, and it’s kind of overwhelming. All of his money is transferred to your bank account, all his belongings, everything is yours. You don’t even know what to do with most of it. You don’t even want to look and use anything of his. So you store most of his things in a box and label it “Satoru,” along with the other things that you took from his apartment, and you make an account to store all his money in, for what? You don’t know, just something.

When you're older, you’ll come to realize that you made Satoru a loved person until the very end, and that you were perhaps the only person that he still had love for, even if you weren’t his wife anymore. This is why Satoru loved you so much, and yes, he got very lucky with you, you will give yourself that. But you also won’t feel so bitter about having to be the person to handle his departure because you made sure to do just the way he wanted it, by you. for now, you’ll miss him lots and bring him flowers whenever the time comes. You won’t call him your ex-husband, but your late-husband. You keep some of his clothes to wear like you used to. You still sleep on your side of the bed, leaving the space Satoru used to fill empty for him. Life goes on the way it used to.

[antheiagoddessofwriting]

Gold Rush

To say that you do not get along with Jake "Hangman" Seresin is an understatement. From the first day the two of you met, you got off on the wrong foot. When both of you are called back to Top Gun for a special detachment the rocky relationship continues. Between jealousy, fights and accidents, can you and Jake see eye to eye? or will your relationship sink and fade away before it ever began?

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Inspired by Gold Rush by Taylor Swift

~roughly 3,500 words

Cross posted on ao3 under - AntheiaGoddessOfFlowers

This first chapter begins before the events of Top Gun: Maverick. I felt that showing how y/n and Jake meet would be fun. I also added some crappy bf content to show jealous Jake lol.

Happy reading aviators!

Chapter 1

eyes like sinking ships on water

It was early in the morning when you arrived on base for your first day at Top Gun. Being chosen to attend was a dream come true. You had been in the Navy for years, and every day you studied, practiced, and trained as hard as you possibly could. Blood, sweat, and tears were poured into the Navy, you'd do anything you could for a chance at Top Gun. All of the men and women you had flown with had been great pilots, but you knew you needed to be extraordinary. Years of hard work were finally paying off. The next 13-weeks would be the toughest of not only your career, but also of your life.

All new pilots were asked to meet in an auditorium. It was a fairly small, and modern room used for meetings. Today it was being used to take attendance of all the new Top Gun trainees and give them a few lectures on what was to be expected of them. When you walked in you didn’t recognize anyone from your years of training or service. This made you a bit disappointed to not have any friends, but you were confident that would soon change.

You noticed a small group of pilots near the front of the room all in uniform just like yourself. Two of the men seemed to be the center of attention in the group. One was with brown eyes, and a slightly taller man with golden hair. As you made your way towards the large group you noticed how handsome the blond was, with eyes like sinking ships on water. Everything about him seemed so inviting- until he opened his mouth.

“Looks like our dry summer is about to get wet boys”

You rolled your eyes as any attraction or curiosity you had for the man disappeared. The other men cringed at the comment and walked away, not wanting to see him further embarrass himself. His friend with brown eyes remained by his side though, likely pitying the blonde.

“Please ignore him, it’s impossible for him to say anything normal” Said the man with brown eyes, “I’m Javy Machado, callsign “Coyote.”

“Nice to meet you Coyote, I’m glad someone in your little group is normal.”

“I’ll have you know I am very normal and very much adored.” The blond said while winking.

“Sure you are. what's your name goldilocks?” you asked, very much annoyed at his flirty demeanor.

“The name’s Jake Seresin, but everyone calls me “Hangman.”

This made you laugh, “Is it because they’d rather hang themselves than talk to you?”

Coyote laughed at your remark before answering your question, “Unfortunately, the reason is much worse, but you’ll find out later.”

Hangman rolled his eyes, “Well, what's your name then?” He was clearly hoping there was something he could mock you for.

“Im y/n, callsign is “TAG” you said with a smirk,

“TAG? Like the game?” Coyote asked.

“Not quite,” you replied.

TAG was an acronym meaning “Take a Guess”. Anytime a guy like Hangman came up to you and asked if you would go out with them you'd always deadpan and say “take a guess”. Usually they got the hint and because of how often you said it your old squad members took to calling you TAG. Saying “take a guess” under any circumstance became an inside joke for everyone who knew you. Eventually these guys would figure out what it meant.

Hangman had a puzzled look on his face, “Well what does it mean then?”

“Take a guess”

“Has it got something to do with dog tags?”

“Nope”

Before he could make another guess the instructors began filing into the room. You broke away from the two men to go and sit down.

After the very long and boring lecture about rules, expectations, and information about the very inflexible schedule that the school operates on, you were finally allowed to leave. When you were on your way out of the room Coyote called your name and invited you to go to The Hard Deck, a bar nearby. You accepted and shortly after you began getting ready. You didn’t think you had time to unpack your things and change out of your uniform, so you settled for throwing on some makeup before heading out. You applied a light coat of mascara, some lip oil and concealer and got on your way.

Once you made it to the Hard Deck you suddenly felt very nervous. The realities of being in a new place without anyone you knew was suddenly hitting you. Being in the military made you no stranger to constantly moving around, being in new places, and meeting new people. But the daunting challenge of Top Gun made it all so different this time. But you pushed those thoughts away as you walked further into the bar. No one else seemed to be there yet so you sat at the bar and waited for the bartender to see you.

When you caught her attention she began walking over, the most genuine smile on her face. Her warmness felt comforting to you and helped ease your anxieties.

“You’re a new face. I’m Penny, what can I get for you?”

You introduced yourself and ordered your favorite drink.

“Top Gun?” She asked as she set the drink in front of you.

You nodded as she continued. “Don’t be nervous, you seem smarter than all the guys that go through there.

You thanked her and paid as you noticed a man a few stools away from you. He was cute, but seemed a bit too interested. The look on his face made you queasy. It was as if you were prey and he was hunting you. You quickly looked away, not wanting to give him the impression that you were interested, but it was too late. He got up and sauntered over to you with a crooked smile.

“Hey there, pretty lady, I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re in Top Gun. Very impressive.”

“Thank you”, you said quickly and turned away.

“I’m sure being so pretty makes it easy to get in though” he said.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Doesn’t work that way pal. Have a nice day”

He laughed, “Don’t be so sensitive sweetheart. Why don’t you come outside with me and I’ll show you what a real cockpit looks like”

“How about you go away” you said with daggers shooting out of your eyes.

“You mean you wouldn’t want to go out with me?” he gawked, genuinely surprised that his flirtations didn’t work

Scoffing, you said “Why don’t you take a guess.”

He huffed and puffed as he got up to leave you alone. “You know I was just trying to be nice ok!” the man exclaimed. “Not even that pretty anyways” he remarked as he stormed out of the bar.

You rolled your eyes again and looked towards your drink. Being a woman in a bar alone was bad enough, but over the years you noticed that the uniform brought the worst kind of attention to you. He was just one of the hundreds of men out there with bad intentions and enough of a buzz to make their desires your problem.

A half hour had passed before you had been disturbed again. You had just received water from Penny when Hangman stood next to you.

“Why the long face?” he asked, a look of genuine concern painted on his features, but you didn’t see.

Your eyes were glued to the water as you said “none of your business.”

“Ok. Have it your way” he said as he walked away towards the pool table.

Eventually, the rest of the Top Gun students began to trickle into the bar and towards where Hangman was beating some poor college kids at the pool table. You got up and followed them over, watching as Hangman sunk the eight ball into the pocket he picked. He shook the hands of the frat boys and they walked away defeated.

“I will never understand why college kids think they can beat navy guys at pool” he said to Coyote, who was laughing.

“I don’t know why either” Coyote agreed, “but it will never fail to entertain me”

You caught yourself smiling and looked away from the blond. A woman in uniform that you hadn’t met yet walked up to you, distracting you from Jake.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet” she started, “I’m Maria Jimenez”

You smiled warmly at her and told her your name, “What’s your callsign?” you asked

“Shadow, and you?”

“TAG”

Maria raised a brow at you. “TAG? Like the game?”

Laughing and shaking your head, you explained, “it's an acronym. It means "take a guess.”

She cracked a smile and asked “is that your catchphrase or something?”

“You could say that. It's a bit of an inside joke with everyone in flightschool because of how often I say it. Especially since I got in trouble with saying it to the admiral at my last station”

Maria gasped, “You didn’t! How did you even start saying it so often?”

“Well, when gross guys see the uniform and ask me out I would say that to them. But it quickly seeped into my regular conversation.”

“I like that,” she replied. “Do the others know what it stands for?”

“No actually” you chuckled, “I want to see how long it takes for the guys to figure out what it means”

She laughed too before remarking that it would probably take a while. You agreed before asking her how she earned her call sign.

“I freaked out during a training exercise because I thought there was an enemy plane following me. I saw the shadow and was frantically searching for an enemy while I made evasive maneuvers. It was only when I heard my squad laughing that I realized it was my own shadow.”

You laughed at her story and asked when that happened.

“It was my very first day flying with the navy” she giggled, “I think the nerves really got to me”

“Well it seems like you turned out to be a great pilot if you’re in Top Gun”

“Cheers to that!”

You spent the rest of the night conversing with Maria. She was incredibly easy to talk to and you became fast friends. Having a friend you could count on was important enough in everyday life, but especially in the navy. Finding time to talk to friends and family back home was hard, so you were comforted to think about you and Maria having each other's backs through Top Gun.

After the first week of training had passed you and Maria had become each other’s best friends. Although you each had friends, neither of you had a best friend. Because of this you made a strong bond and a promise to be there for eachother. Being of a similar mind, the two of you decided to celebrate the first week by going out to the Hard Deck.

Each of you were out of your uniforms and in civilian clothes. Being able to blend in assured you both that you just might be able to have a regular night. However, you couldn’t have guessed that tonight would change everything for you.

You and Maria had just finished a game of darts and sat down at the bar. Maria was deciding on what she should order when Penny brought over two drinks which neither of you had asked for.

“These are from the cuties in the corner” Penny said with a wink.

It was true, the two guys who had ordered you drinks were indeed very attractive. You both blushed as you accepted the drinks. After a few minutes of glancing back and forth, the two men decided to come over and talk to you. You had your eye on the guy in glasses. He was tall and muscular, tattoos adorning his biceps.

He introduced his friend, Harry, and then himself.

“I’m Sawyer” he drawled before asking you,, “what might be your name?”

You blushed at his rich southern accent before telling him your own name.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl”

You giggled at his flirtatious comment. All of a sudden you felt like a school girl giggling over the football star. It had been a long time since you felt so flustered and attracted to a guy and you were enjoying it. Eventually, you and Sawyer split off from Maria and Harry. Sawyer was extremely interested in getting to know you. He thought it was amazing that you were in Top Gun and said that you must be the most hard-working person he ever met. The compliments kept rolling in, each one making you feel more and more flustered, and attracted to him.

At some point you two had made your way to a table to sit down. When he excused himself to order you both another round of drinks you noticed that Hangman was across the bar. He was staring you down, a look of disdain painting his face. You quickly looked away, not sure of what you could have done to make the pilot so angry. Distracting yourself from Hangman’s expressions, you looked over to check on Maria and Harry, making sure she was still doing good. After receiving a thumbs up from your friend you looked at the bar to see if Sawyer had gotten your drinks yet.

As he was on his way back to the table he was intercepted by none other than Hangman himself. You felt your brows pinch together at the sight. The two men slowly made their way to the table.

“Hey y/n” Hangman said with thinly masked anger, “I just met your new friend here.”

Sawyer nodded and awkwardly laughed, “yeah, you pilots sure seem to be everywhere”

Hangman smirked, “You bet. Did you know we’re from the same part of Texas? So funny... Anyways you two have fun”

He waited for no reply before he marched away. You felt extremely weirded out by the exchange that just occurred.

“I am so sorry about that,” you apologized. “I’m not really sure why he did that, he and I don’t even talk at work”

Sawyer scratched his neck before saying, “it's ok. He’s probably just really drunk”

You nodded your head and quickly glanced at Hangman. He was still scowling at you and Sawyer while frantically talking to Coyote. You shook your head and refocused on the man in front of you.

“Well, it’s getting pretty late” Sawyer started, “Before I head out I was hoping that I could take you out some time”

“Absolutely, I’d really like that,” you answered.

After exchanging numbers and setting up a plan for your date you watched him and his friend leave the Hard Deck. As you and Maria made your way back to base you gossiped about the great nights you each had. Of course in your recounting of the events you included Hangman’s strange behavior, but neither of you knew him well enough to understand it.

The following day you went out with Sawyer to a coffee shop. The date was wonderful and just like the night before he showered you in praises about how amazing and pretty you were. You went home with him afterwards and had a good time. Both of you were sure that the connection was going places.

On monday you were back to training and floating on cloud nine due to your blossoming relationship. Your bubble of bliss was immediately popped upon your first encounter with Hangman that day. You had cordially greeted him but he returned your hellos with a weird look. A scoff escaped your lips as you watched him angrily walk away. From then on your interactions only got worse.

The rest of the week Hangman seemed to target you in training exercises. At the Hard Deck he continued to stare down you and Sawyer. One night when Sawyer hadn’t been able to make it, Jake kept pestering you with questions about your new boyfriend.

“You know, it’s so funny… Sawyer told me he was born and raised in San Antonio, just like me, but I’ve never heard an accent like his before”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, “Can you please leave me alone Hangman. I am sick of your bizarre questions about Sawyer. ”

He shook his head, his southern drawl emphasized as he said “it’s just strange. That's all”

“You’re crazy,” you said, scowling at him as you walked away.

Determined not to let Hangman get to you, you vowed to ignore him as much as you possibly could. Neither you or Maria could understand why Hangman was acting the way he was towards you. Maria chucked it up to him not liking you since he was normal towards Maria and Harry. You hoped that was the case. Nothing was going to let him ruin your mood or your relationship. Things were great with Sawyer! He was so nice and gentlemanly, everything about him was truly perfect. Right?

Eventually, the grueling 13 weeks at Top Gun were over. You graduated and were officially done dealing with Hangman forever! Both you and Maria ended up with jobs at the same base after graduating. Sawyer decided to transfer his accounting job to another location in order to move in with you.

It was after you finally were settled in your new home together in North Carolina when things started going downhill. Sawyer started coming home late, assuring you that with tax season coming up his workload was increasing. Of course, you believed him. There had never been any reason not to trust him.

Unfortunately, even long after tax season was over he still got stuck at the office. His interest in you seemed to die down over time as well. The compliments that he once showered you in had slowly become back-handed and laced with contempt. But you loved him, surely you would work it out. Every relationship had rough patches. At least, that’s what you told yourself everyday.

Slowly, you stopped going out with Maria. Sawyer didn’t like it when you went out. Whenever you were at work Maria kept asking you what was the matter with you and if Sawyer was mistreating you. You assured her he wasn’t and that everything was fine, but her and Harry were suspicious. Harry and Sawyer used to be close friends, but once Maria told Harry about how odd you were acting, Harry began ignoring Sawyer. He didn’t want to be friends with someone he was sure was hurting you.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was your birthday. You had texted Sawyer that morning that they scheduled an extra training exercise for the day and that you would be home late. He didn’t reply to your message, nor did he wish you a happy birthday. There was hope that maybe he was planning to surprise you later. In fact, you were quite surprised when you came home earlier than expected and found him in bed with another woman.

The aftermath was messy. You and him were screaming at each other as the woman ran out of the apartment. He somehow found a way to blame you for the situation, claiming you didn’t support him enough and that he was forced to find someone else for comfort. When you screamed at him to get out of the apartment he slapped you and demanded you be the one to leave. Not wanting to be in his presence any longer, you relented and packed your necessary belongings.

Maria and Harry took you in with open arms. Sawyer received a healthy beating from Harry which prompted him to eventually move out of the apartment and to a different state. The next few months were the hardest of your life. You had given your whole heart to Sawyer, poured everything you had into trying to make him happy and to win back his love. And all for nothing. It took only a week before he was blowing up your phone, as well as your friends’ phones begging you to take him back. You refused and tried to get your life in order, picking up the pieces as best as you could.

Eventually, Harry found out that Sawyer had not only cheated and emotionally abused you, but he also had been lying to everyone about who he was. As it turned out, he really had been from Canada and had abandoned his wife and child. He made a new life for himself and tricked everyone he knew. Maybe Hangman was right. Luckily, you dodged a bullet when it came to him, but it still hurt like hell. Every night for the next few months you cried. The relationship was horrible and you were glad it was over, but the betrayal was what got you.

It made you question everything about yourself, whether you were worthy of love, whether you were even attractive. You weren’t even sure if you saw yourself loving anyone ever again.

Wow. That first chapter sure did end on a bummer...

But fear not dear reader, things will turn around!

[irl-batsignal]

The Bee Movie.

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Can you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick our job today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! -

That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Catches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Can anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Check it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it.

Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Couple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Come on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Congratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening.

See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick.

That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Cool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Could be daisies. Don't we need those? Copy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Chemical-y. Careful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Candy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Coming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny!

What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Can't fly in rain. Can't fly in rain. Can't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Check out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Come on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. 

That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Can I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Coffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Come on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Can I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out your job and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating.

You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Cinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Cute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. -

You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Crazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads!

Pinhead. –Check out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Chung. - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Chung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, Classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Columbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week... He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here.

Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting... - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Case number 4475, Superior Court of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry?

They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Call your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That's not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! - Order in this court! - You're all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! - Say it! - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I'm a florist. Right. Well, here's to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn't think you were coming. No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... the battery. I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There's a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. That's where I usually sit. Right... there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. You think I don't see what you're doing? I know how hard it is to find the right job. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That's just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I'm going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I've just about had it with your little mind games. - 

What's that? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You're bluffing. - Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... ...bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but... - So those aren't your real parents! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins!

I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can't feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I... I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Could you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - 

What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Congratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... But it's just a prance-about stage name! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Can't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Cannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Carl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's not just flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.

That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course... The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I'll sting you, you step on me. – That just kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? - Roses are flowers! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That's why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Could you ask him to slow down? Could you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I've made it worse. Actually, it's completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, California. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I'm the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... ...without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - 

Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Can you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Captain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Can I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Captain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out!

Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Come on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Can you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Come on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. - What? - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Come on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - 

Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, or just Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Can I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Can I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Can we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Lit Hub: The Question of Homoeroticism in Whitman’s Poetry

Walt Whitman’s best poems demonstrate an almost unimaginable prescience; he and Dickinson, among 19th-century American poets, possess a nearly chilling self-consciousness, an acute self-analysis. Edward Carpenter, the British anarchist, writer, and champion of the Arts and Crafts movement whose life and romance were the model for E. M. Forster’s novel Maurice, wrote this elegant description of a visit with Whitman in 1877; the emphases are Carpenter’s own: “If I had thought before (and I do not know that I had) that Whitman was eccentric, unbalanced, violent, my first interview certainly produced quite a contrary effect. No one could be more considerate, I may almost say courteous; no one could have more simplicity of manner and freedom from egotistic wrigglings; and I never met any one who gave me more the impression of knowing what he was doing more than he did.” That there were words for homosexual behavior in Whitman’s day there can be no doubt. Social structures for enabling same-sex congress seem to have been a feature of life in the modern city at least since the later 18th century, when the “Molly houses” in London offered a zone of permission for transvestism. Herman Melville, in Redburn, carefully evokes the nattily dressed fellows who hang out in front of a downtown restaurant where opera singers perform; he means us to understand what these stylish outfits convey. Historian and theorist Luc Sante describes a 19th-century pamphlet that takes as its project the publication of the locations of various quite particular spots of diverse sexual practice in New York City—so that those informed of, say, the address of a bordello featuring willing boys can take special care to avoid this hazard. Trenchant evidence comes from Rufus Griswold’s review of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass: “We have found it impossible to convey any, even the most faint idea of style and contents, and of our disgust and detestation of them, without employing language that cannot be pleasing to ears polite; but it does seem that someone should, under circumstances like these, undertake a most disagreeable, yet stern duty. The records of crime show that many monsters have gone on in impunity, because the exposure of their vileness was attended with too great indelicacy. Peccatum illud horrible, inter Christianos non nominandum.” Which is all a way of saying that Whitman inscribes his sexuality on the frontier of modernity; he is writing into being—particularly in the “Calamus” poems of 1860, with their frank male-to-male loving, their assumption of equality on the part of the lovers—a new situation. He does not know how to proceed—he has no path —but he does it anyway. My guess is that he couldn’t have written “Calamus,” or the boldly homoerotic portions of the 1855 Leaves, even ten years later, as the advent of psychology increasingly led to a public perception of the normative, and imagery of the sacred family becomes the object of Victorian romance. As a category of identity—sodomite, invert, debauchee, pervert, Uranian—begins to emerge, so the poems with their claims of a loving, healthy, freely embraced same-sex desire become unwriteable, paradoxically, just as new language of homosexual identity begins to appear. Unwriteable, and, it would seem from Whitman’s later remarks, and some of his revisions, barely defensible. Carpenter and his readers were reaching for signposts of a gay identity when such a thing barely existed, but Whitman is ultimately a queer poet in the deepest sense of the word: he destabilizes, he unsettles, he removes the doors from their jambs. There is an uncanniness in “Song of Myself” and the other great poems of the 1850s that, for all his vaunted certainty, Whitman wishes to underscore. Again and again, he points us toward what, it seems, must remain folded in the buds beneath speech, since it cannot be brought to the surface. (Full article)

[creepycranberry]

Same people different circumstances: Pt 2

Pt 1

Warnings: not proofread, baby babble, flying toys, fluff, not proofread

——————————

You and Eddie had fallen into a rhythm, he came over most weeknights for dinner and would sometimes stay over when he accidentally stayed too late.

He would usually sleep on the couch or on the recliner chair in the nursery if Winnie was being particularly fussy. It was nice to have him around again, though the question of what your relationship was hung heavy over the both of you. You ignored it for the most part but late afternoons were spent watching Winnie and Eddie exist together like it was so natural and sometimes, just for a moment, you let yourself believe that nothing had ever happened. This was just how things were, this was the life you got to live.

Eddie had been around plenty of kids, but this was slightly different. Because babies weren’t technically yet kids. Steve’s son was about three months younger than Winnie. He wasn’t talking yet, he said baby babble and that was it.

Winnie had certain words down.

Her new favorite being “no.”

Every opportunity she had to use this new fancy word she took. Whether it was a whine over it being bedtime or a simple answer to a question or a shriek when bath time inevitably came around, no was said. No was said with such vigor that somehow it managed to cancel out the no’s she was told by you and Eddie.

And a no mixed with her now being able to walk was almost impossible to deal with at times.

It was a bath time tantrum that caused a slight emotional breakdown for you.

Eddie had a date tonight, which already put you in a somewhat sour mood, despite the fact that you were the one to suggest it.

You felt bad that he was giving you so much of his life, and while he didn’t mind it was eating away at you. You guys weren’t a couple and you weren’t exactly at a point in life where dating was a priority and you wanted him to be able to have fun and go out. It wasn’t fair that you keep him with you to help take care of your kid.

So he was out with Delia, who he had met at work when she went to get some maintenance done on her car.

You had found her number in his wallet when grabbing some cash to tip a pizza guy the other week and you had encouraged him to call her.

And now both you and your daughter were in a sour mood due to his absence.

She had already all but refused her dinner, but what she did decide to eat was mushed into her shirt so you had told her it was time for a bath And now you were sitting on your bathroom floor while Winnie repeatedly said, “no mommy! No baf!” While she played with her bath toys on the floor.

“Come on, baby, please?”

She shook her head, her signature pout finding its way to her lips as she began to cry in frustration.

“No baf mommy!” She insisted and you sighed.

“What do I have to do to get you to take a bath, Winnie-Bear?” You asked and she huffed.

“No Baf!” She reiterated and you groaned.

“Come on, baby, take a bath and then we can watch Bambi or Eeyore and then Eddie will be here to put you to bed and tuck you in and read you a story.” Winnie shakes her head again, “Winifred Lane you need to take a bath!” You snap and her bottom lip juts out and she begins sniffling.

“I’m sorry, baby, I just need you to-“ you’re interrupted by a Little People Horse figurine hitting you in the eye.

“Mean mommy.” She wails.

You can’t help but cry too.

Throwing was another addition she had discovered recently but she hadn’t quite gotten the concept of aim. It was likely she hadn’t meant I throw it at you, she was just frustrated and didn’t know what to do with it.

And the rational part of you knows that but the shock of it causes you to start crying too, covering your eye.

You simply stand up, trying to hide your misty eyes from Winnie as you walk out of the bathroom, leaving her standing there, wailing.

And That was the moment Eddie just had to walk through the door.

“What’s Wrong? Where’s Winnie?” He asks immediately, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks but you don’t want it. You’re too overwhelmed, you don’t want to be touched or talked to or to hear your baby sobbing from the other room.

So you just point to the bathroom and then walk around him.

When Eddie goes into the bathroom Winnie is red in the face and crying so hard she can barely breathe.

“Aw, sweetheart.” He mumbles, “breaking my heart.”

He sits on the floor by her and holds out his arms, she climbs into his lap and sobs into his chest. He tries to sooth her the best he can, patting her back and humming ‘Winnie Lane is in my ears and in my eyes’

He stands to pace around the small bathroom, continuing to pat her back.

“What’s wrong, girlie?” He asks her.

“Me-mean mommy.” She sobs.

Eddie shakes his head, “she’s not mean, baby, she’s just tired. I think you’re a little tired too.”

The mere suggestion makes her worse, “no daddy! No bed!”

Eddie freezes, “you don’t have to go to bed yet, baby.”

She looks up at him with her red face and dramatic pout and Eddie melts, holding her as close as possible, “and I’m Eddie. Not Daddy. I know they sound similar but they aren’t-“

“No.” She shakes her head, still hiccuping a little but calmed at the knowledge that she’s not yet being sent to bed. She points a chubby finger at his chest, “daddy.”

She says it like it’s the most obvious thing.

“Sweetheart, why are you calling me that?” Eddie smiles.

“Mamá Lena.”

The old Cuban woman must have just assumed. She had always liked Eddie so it made sense he supposed.

“Do you want to color?” He asks her, changing the subject in hopes of distracting her so he can check on you.

She nods and almost throws herself out of his arms.

He sets her up in her high chair with a coloring book and some crayons, helping her pick out a coloring page before quietly heading down the hall to the bedroom.

The lights are off but Eddie can make out the faint outline of the bundle of blankets on the bed, the unmistakable snuffles coming from it make his heart squeeze.

“Sweetheart?” He coos softly to you but you just sniffle again. He sits on the bed, kicking his shoes off before putting his feet on the bed cause he knows it drives you crazy, “come on, can you sit up for me?” He reaches to the nightstand and flicks on the lamp.

You peek your head out of the blanket and he frowns at your tear streaked cheeks and at the one eye that seems redder than the other.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Eddie says softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb and moving your hair out of your face.

“She just got so upset, I just wanted her to take a bath but she was fussing and whining and I snapped at her and she started to cry and she threw a toy at me and it kind of shocked me and I just couldn’t do it and then you got here and I must’ve looked like the worst mom in the world but I just-“

“Hey,” he scooches closer to hold you better and you rest your forehead on his bicep,”you’re a great mom, you just got a little overwhelmed and I wasn’t here to help like normal, it’s okay.”

You scrunch your eyebrows together, “why are you back so early?”

Eddies eyes widen and he avoids your gaze, “just got tired.”

“Eddie.”

He sighs, “I hated it. She was great, she was fun to talk to but then I just kept talking about Winnie and I hated leaving the two of you here and disrupting Winnie’s normal and by the end she just told me to go home.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, picking at your thumb nail.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I feel like I somehow ruined your date.”

“You did no such thing.” Eddie sighs, “and from what I can tell it’s good that I came home when I did. Apparently all hell breaks loose when I leave for too long.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, allowing yourself to lean into him a little bit more, “we did miss you though.”

“I missed you, too. Let’s get some ice on your eye.”

“It’s fine, Ed's, it's not even that bad.” You shrug, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Nope. Just in case.” Eddie stands up and holds your hands to pull you up into a standing position.

You groan but get up and he holds your hand all the way down the hall.

“Mommy!” Winnie’s little arms reach out to you and you pick her up, holding her close.

“Hey, Winnie-girl.”

Eddie walks up to the both of you with a cold pack, inspecting your eye, “she’s got quite the arm. Should sign her up for softball.”

“And let her get a concussion or sprain her ankle? Over my dead body.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head, holding the ice pack to your eye. Winnie reaches out to see what he’s got, jumping at the temperature.

“It’s cold, Winnie-bear.” Eddie informs her, using your nickname for her.

The three of you migrate to the couch, Eddie holding Winnie, “she still needs a b-a-t-h.” You sigh.

“Maybe it’ll go smoother with the both of us.” Eddie offers and you shrug.

“Maybe. Hey Winnie? How about that bath, baby?”

Immediately she pouts, looking at Eddie to save her. When he doesn’t do anything she wraps her little arms around his neck and holds on tight, trying to distract him with a cuddle.

“Come on, after your bath I can read you a story and we can cuddle in your chair.” Eddie says and she shakes her head, “well then I guess you don’t want the new story I got you.” He sighs, “oh well. Maybe I can it read it to mommy since you wrong want to-“

“Baf, mommy?” Winnie perks up and you smile.

“Come on baby.”

She lets you give her a bath and dry her off. She picks out her pajamas and then pulls herself up into her chair, looking at Eddie expectantly, “sto-y, daddy?”

You look at Eddie with raised eyebrows, “daddy?”

“Uh, yeah I uh- miss Lena said something I guess. I tried to correct her earlier but she said no and-”

“So long as you stick around I don’t give a damn what she calls you.” You assure him, leaning your head into his shoulder, “that’s all up to her.”

Eddie nods and maintains eye contact with you until Winnie lets out an impatient huff.

“I’m coming, Winnie Lane.” He smiles, swooping her up into his arm and attacking her chubby cheek with little kisses.

You leave so he can put her to bed.

——-

After about a half hour Eddie wanders into your room, eyes slightly droopy. You scorch over to give him room and he flops down on the bed next to you.

“Come here often?” He quips, laying on his side with his head resting on his hand.

You laugh and shake your head, “not at all.”

“Damn. So I just got lucky, huh?”

“I guess so.” You shrug.

“How’s your eye?”

“It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt. I don’t think it will bruise.”

“That’s good.”

“How was the date other than what you told me?” You inquire and Eddie exhales deeply, leaning back onto your headboard.

“It wasn’t bad. She was fun to talk to, the restaurant was nice. She could just tell that I had missed you and Winnie and she was sweet about it, but she told me that maybe dating wasn’t something I wanted to do right now.” He explains and you nod.

“So I guess you’re done with dating for the moment?”

“No.” Eddie shakes his head and you involuntarily pout.

“What do you mean? You said you hated leaving Winnie and that you just needed to-”

“Well I figure if I’m dating Winnie’s mom I’ll get to see her more.” He shrugs, a sly grin overtaking his features.

You pause slightly for a moment, you feel the blush creep into your cheeks and you have to really try not to stutter when you clarify, “Was that an ask out?”

“Depends on whether or not you’d say yes.” Eddie smiles, fiddling with his rings.

“yes.” You say a bit too quickly for you liking, “I mean- yeah, sure.” You think for a second more, “but if it doesn’t work out you have to still be there for Winnie. I would forgive my-“

“I'm not gonna leave you sweetheart. And I would never dream of leaving her.” Eddie reassures you, pulling you closer into him and kissing the top of your head.

He doesn’t say the rest of what he’s thinking, which is that he had spent a year just wishing to have you back. There was no chance he would be letting you go anytime soon, or ever.

You nod and look up at him, wide eyed and smiley.

He looks back at you the same way and leans down, kissing you on the cheek.

You pout a little and Eddie smiles, knowing where Winnie got that habit from, “what?”

“Eddie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you grow a pair and kiss me for real?” You sigh and Eddie laughs.

“Nothing I’d rather do, sweet girl.”

He leans down and brushes your lips with his, you can feel his grin and smell his cologne and shampoo.

You wanted to bathe in that smell, to have it around you all the time.

And Eddie would gladly make sure you could always have right there with you. He would always make sure that he was right there with you.

[clocainiac]

Could you perhaps maybe do a headcanon of if the reader was in a polycule with the electric trains? Like you did with Wrench? 🥺🙏

of course!!! i’ll be doing the pre-2018 version as you didn’t specify what production you wanted so i hope you don’t mind :D and i mean look at how gorgeous they are just *chef kiss* ALSO most of this is basically you getting introduced to being in the polycule so if you want more just ask and i will be happy to oblige! (btw electra uses all pronouns!) (and after you finished reading can you tell how much i love electra and their components?) (ALSO ALSO i haven’t fully proofread this yet so if there’s any mistakes or it’s in the wrong tense please forgive me!)

ELECTRONENTS:

- You didn’t mean to stare so much, but you were so intrigued by their group, it was clear they all held deep affection for each other even IF Electra tried pretending otherwise.

- Krupp was the first component you formally met though not in the best circumstances, he had caught you watching for a while and finally had enough. He interrogated you and grilled you hard while also keeping that calm but threatening demeanour which set your nerves alight in fear and also… well you couldn’t pinpoint it but it was something different.

- Once he deemed you were no threat, he stopped asking so many questions but he still sent you on your way, dejected you tried to avoid the components mostly out of embarrassment of being caught staring.

- Surprisingly, you met Electra next, they pretended to above talking to you as he checked his nails the whole time and fixed her mohawk, but you could see the way his eyes would subtlety focus on you every time you spoke slowly trailing over your body. It was a very enlightening experience as you realised what you finally felt towards them and the components, it was a sense of desire.

- Near the end of his talk with you, she sighed softly before implicitly hinting that she missed you staring, after all he does so love to be admired and you weren’t so bad to look at yourself, and with that they flicked their gorgeous hair (I mean who else has such perfect hair like that?) and skated away winking.

- You gained a new sense of hope then, you resumed your watching but something was different now; they all were watching you back, not obviously but just enough for you to notice. Soon after you started to get closer while watching them, you wanted to see how far you could push it before Krupp spoke to you again. It took him a while and you guessed it was a silent agreement between both of you as you got closer to just let it be.

- When Krupp eventually spoke to you again he seemed actually happy, or as happy as he could be with his stoic personality. Instead of the interrogative questions, he was much softer this time. His questions were now based around what interests you had, your hobbies, who your friends were and how your day was. You couldn’t help the silly blush or smile that adorned you face, the conversation just felt wholly natural and it felt like a reward for your hard work in the yard since you could swear the components weren’t this nice to everyone!

- Krupp was the only the first of many though, as you noticed the other components started to frequent places in the yard you commonly went too. Such as Joule who joined you as you skated around the yard enjoying the sun. She was a lot different from Krupp but you still thought she was fantastic, she showed you how flexible she was by doing tricks you thought were impossible, if you weren’t hot and sweaty from the sun you sure were now.

- She then offered to teach you by helping you try and do a scorpion! Which sadly went very…very wrong, to make a long story short you landed flat on your face and you wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Joule just laughed it off and helped you get back up, her tongue poked out her mouth as she wiped the dirt off your face. Spending quite a lot of time staring at your lips, you were almost glad when Electra sent her a message to come back to the shed so you would stop making a fool of yourself.

- Soon the blazing heat of summer introduced a new contender, Volta. And what a woman she was, you were both standing side by side waiting to begin your rounds for the day, you were already dripping and huffing. You tried patting away the sweat from your face not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of her, as she was well known for her judging cold demeanour.

- She noticed pretty quickly and let out a short sigh rolling her eyes, she gripped your chin harsh enough to turn you but soft enough it wasn’t painful. She placed an icy hand on your forehead, muttering that she’s a freezer truck and if you were so hot you could’ve just asked for her help. Your whole face ended up a bright red as she slowly patted her cold hands down your face before she trailed them down to your neck making the back of your hairs stand up.

- It was like you were in some sick limbo of being hot and flushed but also cool from her hands, when Electra called her name so they could hitch up and be on their way to work she hesitated, looking in your eyes searching for something. It seemed she found it too as she smirked before leaving.

- Annoyingly that great interaction was ruined by you busting a wheel at work, you were wincing on the ground trying to breath through the pain but tears pricked your eyes. The coaches fussed over you trying to pick you up and Dinah had the great idea of taking you to Wrench! You desperately tried shaking your head and telling her no through the pain as you didn’t want someone as beautiful as Wrench to see you acting like a baby over a silly wheel but it fell on deaf ears as they quickly shoved you into the repair shed.

- Wrench looked up from her tinkering raising her eyebrow, as she looked you up and down she noticed your limp and the way your face was contorted in pain. She sent the coaches out despite their protests and held her hands out to you to help get you up onto the bed, once you were seated with your feet dangling off the edge she slid down to her knees in front of you.

- You avert your eyes so you would stop imagining stupid things, as she tutted her gentle hands took your skate and inspected the wheel. While she worked on you she was very reprimanding but there was thinly veiled concern under it that made you smile, when she finally tightened your new wheel on you couldn’t help but notice the little praises she incorporated too, it seemed for every compliment you got 3 insults. Once she was done she spun your new wheel causing you to shudder from the sensitivity of a foreign part now attached to you.

- She helped you get up and made you do a spin to show you were all good, Wrench nodded her head in appreciation before sending you off telling you, that you were always welcome for her help but that she wished next time would be in better circumstances.

- The last component you met was Purse, which surprised you as he was the most sassiest truck you had ever seen and he seemed to be quite extroverted so if trucks like Volta and Krupp were kind to you, you assumed someone like Purse would be too. You didn’t want to be disheartened but you wished he would talk to you too, luckily your wish got granted very soon!

- As you skated back to your shed in the coolness of the evening moonlight, you heard sniffling and shaky sighs by the hidden spot behind Electra’s shed. Curious, you waited a little but it didn’t quiet down, you decide it wouldn’t hurt to see if whoever it was needed help! After all, so far the components and even Electra had been nice to you!

- As you skated past the hidden corner of the shed you spotted Purse furiously rubbing his eyes smearing his makeup and what you assumed to be his glasses lying on the floor. Even though you never actually met him before you thought this could be your chance. You picked up the glasses and gently tapped his shoulder handing them to him, he sniffled realising you were there and let out a scandalous gasp. He quickly snatched the glasses away and hid them behind him, you tried not to pry but you wanted to see if he was alright.

- After no response you wondered if you should leave, before he dramatically collapsed into your arms letting out weak cries. Shocked, you go still before you wrapped your arms around him gently patting his back, he unleashed his troubles telling you how hard it is keeping track of all the accounts for Electra and the components and how he has had barely any time to rest let alone recharge.

- He ended his tales of woe by saying he forgot what the sun even looked like and you couldn’t help but let out a little snort covering it up quickly as you realised even if he seemed a little silly to you he genuinely was very distressed. You managed to comfort him and calm him down from his hysteria and once he was done he dusted himself off and gave you a curt ‘thank you’ before making you pinky promise you wouldn’t tell anyone ESPECIALLY Electra.

- As soon as he was sure you wouldn’t tell anyone, he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before skating inside the electric shed. Which gave you a moment to admire his ass because oh my god was that thing sculpted by the starlight express themself?

- Every time you skated through the yard since then you couldn’t help but have some swagger, since your life was literally amazing? You didn’t think it could get any better until Electra called upon you himself. You were quite confused as she was alone but you still trembled with excitement, Electra took a deep breath before explaining how he knows about the way his components act around you and she, herself can’t deny there was something brewing.

- It seemed as if you were the one pulling Electra and the others in instead of the other way round. They then asked if you wanted to make something official such as joining their polycule; you couldn’t help but look shocked I mean this is THE Electra asking you to be not only with him, but his most trusted companions. It would be foolish to say no so you very happily accepted!

- And that my friends was the best decision you ever made, the love and attention is incomparable. Now you can freely kiss whichever electric you want! (or more…) But your favourite part was at the end of the day when they all needed to recharge, you end up all cramming together in a cuddle pile filled with pillows and blankets, that don’t snag so it feels like heaven, not only that but due to being the engine of the future with lots of money to spend the shed is absolutely lavish, meaning the temperature and lights can be adjusted within seconds to exactly what you and your partners desire.

- Also Electra being the Richie Rich he is, will constantly spoil you and the components with gifts even if you assure him just being with him and the other is more then enough!