#i think if you assume someone saying something would be ideal means they also want to Force people to do that thing that says

[snekdood]

ppl who think you doing something means you think everyone else should automatically do it by default and be forced to are 1. unhinged for assuming that but 2. bc it reveals a lot about how they think things should work. like forcing people to believe something isnt bad if its something you want but if its something I believe in it is... got it.

[rafey-baby]

dealer!rafe can’t keep his promises and she can’t keep doing this...

c/w: mostly angst, yelling & arguing, rafe being kinda toxic, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.5k

inspired by this ask

part one

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Exhaustion weighs down Rafe’s shoulders when he finally clicks the front door shut; hoping his arrival won’t disturb his sweet angel he assumes is already buried safely under the covers and lost in some saccharine dream of hers.

However, when he kicks off his shoes and turns around, he notices her sleepy form standing in the hallway— clad in pajama bottoms and his favorite hoodie along with something akin to dissatisfaction flashing in her drowsy eyes.  

“Hey, baby. Did I wake you?” he asks as he pads over to her; greeting her with a gentle kiss on her cheekbone.  

“No, couldn’t really sleep. Was worried something happened cause you told me yesterday you were gonna be home in time for dinner,” the last part is drenched in accusation as she takes a step back.

“Shit, forgot to text you I wasn’t gonna make it, m’sorry,” his apologetic eyes flit over to her as he scratches at the back of his head.  

“Yeah. But then again, think I would’ve been more surprised if you actually had shown up when you promised,” her displeased tone is crystal clear and it forces a heavy sigh to leave his throat. 

“Okay, I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend recently, but there’s just been a lot of shit going on with the business and—”  

“It’s always gonna be about that with you, isn’t it? Like why would you even care about my feelings when you’ve got the fucking money and the drugs, right?” she nearly snaps; drained from the constant lies and excuses that make her feel like he’s never going to put her first.  

“What do you— what do you mean? Of course, I care about your feelings, why would you even say that? And you’re more important to me than all that other shit, okay?” there’s a furrow between his brows when he tries to comprehend what sort of a train this conversation is traveling on.  

“I mean, do you even know how anxious I get whenever you come home late? When you don’t answer my calls? I— sometimes I think you’re…dead, okay? Do you know how exhausting that is?” she says with her face contorted in frustration due to the endless nights she’s spent thinking the worst and wondering why he could never keep his word.  

“I’ve told you so many times that you don’t need to worry so much, nothing bad s’gonna happen,” he tries to reassure her but she merely shakes her head and rubs a hand over her face. 

“But I do, cause it’s not something I can just turn off. And all you do is make these promises that you never keep and I just…I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” her watery eyes stare up at him in despair, making him frown. 

“What are you talking about? You know I can take care of myself, I promise—” 

“But that’s the thing, I don’t trust your promises anymore! You say you’re gonna do one thing, but then you get a call from Barry or whoever and you’re gone. Sometimes, you come back days later and that entire time you barely even text me!” her distressed voice is loud when she begins to pace around the hall. 

“Hey, hey, c’mere, yeah?” he tries to placate her by pulling her flush against his chest for a hug that, despite her protests, she melts into. “Listen, I know my job isn’t always…ideal, but you— you knew that when we met, right?” he tries to reason along with a comforting squeeze to her waist.  

“I just— I guess I didn’t realize it was gonna be this hard. I’ve never dated someone whose job is illegal,” she mumbles into his shirt before reluctantly withdrawing from the solace of his arms to get her point across.  

“But when we started this, you also promised this wasn’t gonna affect my life. But wanna know what happened the other day when I was out with my friends? This creepy guy approached me and said he wanted his money, and if he wasn’t getting it soon, he was gonna find another payment method.”  

“What the fuck? Did he— he didn’t hurt you, right?” he halts his movements while awaiting her answer with bated breath.  

“No, but it was really fucking scary,” she mutters out as she recalls how shaken up by the whole scene she’d been. However, when she’d dialed Rafe’s number with trembling fingers, the call had merely went into voicemail since he was apparently too busy to answer, as always.  

“I swear he’s never gonna so much as look at you again, alright? You remember what he looked like?” he asks while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, followed by his thumb petting at the apple of her cheek with his concerned eyes flickering over her face. 

“Um…dirty hair, crazy eyes and this scar on his lip?” it’s easy to describe the guy’s appearance when the picture is permanently burned to her memory.  

“That piece of shit— we already had an agreement on the fucking money. Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” a crease forms between his brows.

“Cause you’re never home!” she yells at him when her protracted emotional turmoil finally boils over the edge; saturating their entire relationship in the process.  

“I was home yesterday and I’m home right now!” he matches her volume while his fingers tug at the roots of his bleached hair.  

“Well, it’s not enough for me! And I just think that all of this is…too much, okay? I can’t— I can’t live like this anymore,” she admits with a forlorn tone.  

He pauses.

“What are you saying? You’re…you’re leaving me?” he narrows his eyes in disbelief.  

“I don’t know, I just— think I need some time,” she murmurs out.  

“Time for what?” he seems perplexed by the entire concept of what she’s suggesting. 

“To think! All I’ve been able to think about these days is whether you’re alive or not, whether you’re even gonna make it home! And I’m fucking tired of this, okay?”

It’s clear that she’s upset and that these thoughts have been bouncing around her skull for quite some time now. If this is her attempt at breaking up with him though, he’s not going to allow for that to happen.  

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Listen, I understand where you’re coming from, but you can’t just leave…no, okay? We’ll figure this shit out, yeah?” he tries to decipher what’s going on inside that head of hers with his gaze glued to her face— as if it’ll magically reveal all the answers he’s in a hopeless search for.

“I just— I don’t know if that’s possible.”  

“No, don’t say that. We’ll get through this like we always have,” he’s determined to change her mind, but she merely lets out a weary exhale. 

“Rafe, you’re not listening to me.” 

“I am! You’re just not thinking clearly. Why don’t we, uh, go to bed and tomorrow when we’re both well-rested we can talk about this better and—” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this tomorrow!” she huffs out, frustrated, making his distraught face crumple up as he tries to decide which way to approach this in order to not upset her more than he already has.

“Listen, listen. I’ll, uh, I’ll be better, okay? I’ll work less and—” 

“You always say that but— but you’re never gonna change! And I thought I could handle this, but I can’t,” she sounds defeated; rueful eyes flitting away from his pleading ones when teardrops begin to trickle down; dampening the skin of her cheeks.  

“No, you can’t— you can’t leave me. I need you. I love you,” his frantic rambles pour down his tongue when he takes her face into his callused palms— her eyes momentarily closing in response to his tender touch.  

“Rafe…please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” 

“And you love me too, yeah?” he doesn’t pay her resistance any mind. She notices how his own eyes grow glossy as well, even if he tries to blink away the liquid yearning to leak.  

“Of course I do,” she hums out; nodding her head that’s squished between his paws— heavy droplets soaking his palms.

“Then that’s all that matters. We can make this work,” his tone is definitive. 

“I just— I don’t know if we can,” she sniffles. 

“Don’t say shit like that. We can, okay? I’ll call Barry right now and tell him I need some time off with my girl, yeah? And we’ll figure this shit out.”  

At that, she lets out a melancholic sigh— resting her forehead on his chest when he pulls her flush against him with a consoling grip on her waist. The warmth of his body feels familiar; feels like home, but she’s already made her decision.  

He holds her close until they both travel to dreamland with their limbs tangled together, the steady rhythm of their breathing creating a muffled melody in their bedroom.  

However, when the amber rays of sunlight tickle his cheeks in the following morning, and he turns around to face her; he finds nothing more than her side of the bed bleak and desolate.

The entire house void of the only good thing in his life.

[cozy-writes-things]

Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

O.

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

Oh

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

/ book 7 spoilers

*politely grabs you by your shoulders* UEUEUEUJQKXNkxnsnnanzndnsmsmfmdmsmdm

hello... sorry... Leona rant... the guys theorizing that Kifaji stops Leona in his dream bc deeply he'd wish for someone to stop him... i think im going to cry. i wonder if him being such a bad king in his dream has to do with his own feelings- meaning he doesn't believe he'd be a good king? Idia explained that maybe Leona purposefully chose his dream to play out in a more realistic way, which would mean having consequences and such... even if it would be painful, he still went with it...

I think you had a post about this iirc, but this rlly pushes me to further believe that what Leona craves is valid recognition— people recognizing him for who he is and what he does, not idolizing him, just valuing him genuinely. I think there in reality he craves more that than the "king" title specifically— that's why the scene where Jack says that "he's not your (the shadows) king, he's our DORM LEADER" felt so special to me, bc Jack is doing exactly that. he's valuing him for being his dorm leader, a title Leona earned for himself. I think that ultimately that'd be more valuable for him than the king title itself, since one "is born" to fulfill that goal (and the whole reason he isn't king is because he was born second, again, things out of his control—) I think that's why this dream Leona isn't satisfied w having become king, bc at the end of the day he only got there bc Falena/Cheka died here. Some people theorize he pulled Scar tactics in the dream, but regardless of that, I don't think the "nature" of the position itself would satisfy his need to be seen, to be genuinely valued. BC WHAT HE CRAVES IS NOT *JUST* TO BE KING, IT'S TO BE RESPECTED FOR THE THINGS HE ACCOMPLISHED... also more proof that if he wants to help out in his country he needs to do it alongside Falena's ideals, bc apparently the only good thing his reign brought in his dream was... no more inflation 😭😭😭 which is good (guy who lives somewhere with too much inflation), but I mean... I think I'd prefer still having nature 😭😭😭

ALSO... and the way he SACRIFICES HIMSELF for Ruggie... AND THROWS HIMSELF TO THE DARKNESS... also his confrontation w his overblot feels much more... depressing? than the others'? ☹️ And and and... The line about him deciding the place he'll live in... ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ I'm in tears. Pls help.

and at the end he DID know he was dreaming, and he also suspected it before being 100% sure. so I guess our prediction was kind of right 😭

also UHM. THE OUTFIT??? AHHH URNWKDNFKSNSKSKKDKjfjwnnzdn sorry it's. the least important thing of what I wanted to say but he lOOKS SO PERFECT AHHH

[My full thoughts on the book 7 part 11 Leona update here!]

*is grabbed out of nowhere* 🧍‍♂️

NO BECAUSE I WAS THINKING THE EXACT SAME THING... dream!Kifaji is the only NPC/darkness in the dreams that didn't aggro and attack us 😭 In fact, he actively protects us and begs Leona to "wake up", continuously acting as the voice of reason the entire time... AND THEN SMILING AT THE END AND PRAISING "HIS KING" WHEN LEONA FINALLY FULLY WAKES UP... I feel like that definitely is not a happy coincidence. Deep down... some part of Leona's subconscious might have realized something was wrong, and maybe that manifested as Kifaji, the one person in his memories that could stand up to him. Not just because Kifaji is a stubborn old guy (although he is), not because he seems to be a competent mage, but because he must have been Leona's one and only friend and guardian growing up in the palace where the servants always shit talked him and compared him to his older brother. He raised Leona. He played with Leona. He encouraged Leona when his prince didn't believe in himself. He tried so hard to keep Leona from straying. He sees the goodness in Leona. He knows how intelligent Leona can be and how this can save their country. It makes total sense that Kifaji would be the form Leona's conscience assumes.

I feel like dream!Kifaji could also represent... that last shred of hope that Leona has for himself 💀 As late as book 6 of the main story, Leona states that Jamil isn't like him, hinting that while he believes Jamil has the capacity to change and be a better person, he doesn't have that same faith for himself. AND MAN, THAT SHIT WAS HEARTBREAKING OTL Then, entering his dream in book 7, we see just how deep that despair truly runs. Malleus promised everyone happy dreams, didn't he? And Leona has theoretically been given everything he has supposedly ever wanted. The crown, his kingdom, the power to enact all of the policies and laws he believes would benefit his people, wealth for his country, etc. But that has bled the country of its resources, made the people resent him--and he's still left bitter and unfulfilled, alone in the palace. This isn't what happiness truly looks like, but it sadly might be what Leona believes Sunset Savanna is destined for if he's left in charge of it. (Idia likens the dream to a sandbox game, and Leona, being the owner of it, decided to play it "realistically".) He can only become king if the rest of his family dies or goes missing. (This is even more morbid if you believe the headcanon that Leona committed fratricide and murdered/convinced Cheka to run away.) He'll achieve his goals, but at the cost of isolating himself and making himself a pariah. He and his people will starve to death. Everything he touches will crumble into sand. That's all he and his unique magic are good for, anyway. Destroying things, never creating or building them. AND HE STILL CONTINUES TO EXIST IN THIS WASTELAND, ACTING LIKE HE'S IN THE RIGHT AND LIVING IN DENIAL THAT ANY OF THIS IS HIS FAULT... while Kifaji, his conscience, his hope, is right there trying to get him to see reason.

Leona's dream was such a shock to see right after Jack and Ruggie's. The contrast between how he views himself and his rule vs how his dorm members see him and his rule is like NIGHT AND DAY. You got Jack here thinking of Leona as an upstanding and honorable dorm leader and team captain and Ruggie who dreams of a Leona who graduates and betters the lives of the entire country and the less fortunate by building schools and establishing magift/spelldrive clubs (which enhance Sunset Savanna's soft power). Then you have... whatever hellscape Leona has conjured up 😭 It's so sad that Leona pictured RUGGIE as being one of his most devoted haters too. Yeah, Ruggie sometimes complains about Leona running him ragged and how rich people have it easy compared to him, but Ruggie has never expressed this level of vitriol towards Leona before... yet in his own darn dream, Leona believes Ruggie would HATE him and try to overthrow him when that couldn’t be further from the truth. In Ruggie’s dream, he hasn’t even MET Leona before but still looks up to him for what he has accomplished and done to help the poor and the downtrodded 😭

I have mentioned before that I don't believe Leona needs to become an actual king in order to be happy (that post here!), and I think this most recent update proved my point. Jack points it out to us (in case we didn't already put together) that Leona is still miserable in spite of being gifted the crown and kingdom. Leona is still not satisfied. Even if he becomes king, he won't be satisfied. Even if he obtains everything he wants, he won't feel fulfilled. Never, ever, ever. AND THAT MAKES SENSE, because what Leona REALLY wanted all along wasn't the crown but the acknowledgement of his skills and talents... "proof" of his worth as an individual. I feel like the word "king" is thrown around a lot in regards to Leona, both in fandom and within his own dorm (Ruggie, Jack, etc. refer to him as their "king" quite often). However, it's not "king" that holds weight to Leona... it's everything that comes associated with the title. Respect, validation, love. These are all the things Leona got so little of as a child, which is why he fixates on them now. He has even expressed that he doesn't value the title of king if you didn't earn that title to begin with, which just goes to show that he wants to be able to prove himself and be seen for it. AND THE SAVANACLAW STUDENTS DO, AAAAAAAHHHAAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHhHhhhHhhhhh OTL JUST LIKE JACK SAID, HE'S THEIR DORM LEADER...

As dark as Leona's dream was, I appreciate it a lot for its realistic depiction of... Leona's worse tendencies... along with a potential future under his command. I often see people claiming that Leona would be a far better ruler for Sunset Savanna than Falena is. And to that, well... I'd say look at Leona's dream and some of the points brought up in it. I don't think his rule would be as terrible as what we see in the dream, HOWEVER. The dream mentions many shortcomings of Leona as a ruler, such as disregarding traditions and refusing to listen to advisors and input from the people. This would naturally make him unpopular with the country he serves, and it certainly doesn't help that he is not amicable either. These are only a few points I brought up in my extensive post comparing Leona and Falena's ruling styles, which I would highly recommend reading. I want to stress that I am in no way saying Leona would be a bad ruler. I believe that he and Falena compensate for each other's weaknesses. This is why I feel that the best solution isn't a blanket "X brother would be better than Y brother!", but rather that they should work as a team and make the best use of each other's strengths.

adfaiifvifiaef efoubfia LEONA SACRIFICING HIMSELF FOR RUGGIE I PRETTY MUCH SAW COMING 😭 Bro had to do something to make up for almost sanding him in book 2...

I really glossed over Leona's big confrontation with his Phantom in my initial reaction post, so I'd like to take the time to comment more on it here. A lot of what Leona tells his Phantom I felt was also the kind of advice he gave Jamil in book 6 (which only further reinforces the idea that he had hope for Jamil but not for himself). He dislikes people who complain about their situation but do nothing to change the circumstances... ALL TRUE OF BOTH HIM AND JAMIL. I think what makes Leona’s confrontation so different from the others we’ve seen so far is that while the others are more triumphant/telling the Phantoms how they’ve grown… Leona’s is sort of resigned? Like he still sees his negative traits (his pride, his underhandedness, etc.) and talks about how he has changed as a person but he also admits that this is his fault, that this bitterness and desire to be king will always remain will him. That’s fine—because Leona tells that darkness within himself that he’ll accept it too. (Jack does the same; his senpai are pretty awful but he chooses to accept them as they are.) I really loved that Leona swore to himself he’ll find his own throne and country… “Someday, for sure…!” It feels so hopeful after all that depressing stuff 😢 Reclaiming bis autonomy… Weh…………

asdbihabidbasdsa I still wish they had done a little more with Leona “knowing” it was a dream... Maybe making that "Kifaji is that part of Leona" more obvious or clearly stated because I feel like it could sail over people's heads? It might have also been interesting to see the blot try to suppress him like he's a feral beast that has to be kept under control 😔

DB SDABILASFIADFIAF tHAT DFUCKIBG SJHFBLADAD KING!L*ONa OUTFIT OTL TRHIS SI WHAT A MAN IN A SUIT IWiTH A HLAF CAPE THING AND SLICKED BACK HAIR DOES TO MEDFSKNLABIDBFIABIPEAFFQEIPYIBEUOF8TQEVOpfSBPsnjg 26871t9mg9qepgpeqomp9qvda bipivpada iegi THE EyE LOOK TOO ASDBLABSDSFIAFDI IT'S SCO CUn T Y AKJFHLBADGLBIHAGEIHGABIADGILBHWHICH IS REALLY WEIR FOR ME TO SAY ECUASE I USUALYL THINK THESE KINDS O EYE LOOKS ARE WAY TOO MUCH... . . ..... . . ........ . . .. . AnD TGE ExPOSED fOREHEADvv???!?!!!!!? HELLO ???!!!!!’mmcnNCCCVvV,cvvv???!!!!’nxhVahahshjwhzttTyqhwiau iTm anBEHGinG TO BE k!ssrd TOYcHEDF 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢

THIS RICH BITCH IS OVER HERE IN A FANCY SU i TS 4 GOLD NECKLACES AND 3 RINGS WHILE HIS PEOPLE STARVE??????? DAMN NO WONDER WHY THEY WANNA EAT TH E RICH.

Side note: a friend pointed out that Leona's coat is basically a reused Octavinelle dorm uniform asset and, after checking... yeah, it basically is 😭 NOT THAT THERE'S ANYHTING WRONG WIH THAT, I just find it ironic because (in my own pseudo-lore) it reads like him trying so hard to be like J word and get my attention 💀💀💀 I AM AFRAID HE ATE AND LEFT NOC RUBMSN....

[skzdarlings]

mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

-

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door.  Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car.  They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate. 

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say.  “So wholesome.  So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean.  Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times.  He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone.  He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct.  Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent.  You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy.  Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection.  You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died.  Foolish.  He is not here for you but your name.  He does not care how you feel.  He does not care if you want him.  He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone.  He backed you into the wall and kissed you.  An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye.  Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run.  Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars.  Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort.  You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats.  It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike.  It is a pretty but flimsy thing.  Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets. 

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away. 

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane.  It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory.  Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world.  The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes.  Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns.  It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town. 

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house.  If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror. 

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes.  You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer.  You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard.  You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.  

You park your bike against the side of the house.  You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.    

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door.  While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous.  You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done.  You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late. 

No answer comes.  You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole.  Is he ignoring you?  No.  The windows are shut, the blinds closed.  He cannot even see you.

You take a step back.  Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light.  The house is small, a single story.  There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection.  Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself.  What were you even thinking?  Silly girl.  Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you.  He has a life of his own.  He probably doesn’t even think about you.  You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic.  Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day.  They finally become too much to bear.  You sit down on the steps and cry. 

Some time passes.  You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes.  You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. 

You are not sure what to do now.  You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you.  You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.   

You sigh.  You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you.  Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know.  You met doing volunteer work, in fact.  You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps.  You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine.  It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow.  You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop. 

The driver door flies open.  He jumps out, cursing.  Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability.  His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed.  He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.  

He is beautiful as ever.  Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again.  He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl.  When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now.  Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck.  He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way.  He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside.  He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him.  You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say. 

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood.  He curses louder this time. 

There is a small light on the side of the house.  You step towards it at the same time. 

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you.  His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion.  He stares intently at you. 

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring. 

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say.  “I wanted to see you.  I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side.  He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense. 

“Right,” you say.  You feel a catch in the back of your throat.  Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him.  More of a fool, that is.  You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices. 

I missed you so much, you think.  I think about you every day.  Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic.  Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness.  Minho is not a man like that, though.  He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone.  You know that, but the words catch nonetheless. 

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.  “I probably shouldn’t have come here.  It’s been months since we last spoke.  I know we’re not really friends anymore.  I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says. 

You look at him.  His expression has not softened.  It is still that same scrutinizing stare.  His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying. 

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed.  Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you.  He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck. 

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back. 

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you.  A small touch from him means more than anything. 

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly.  He is still frowning.  “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say.  When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that.  Emotionally, I mean.  I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly.  “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore.  You know what they’re like.” 

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike.  You feel embarrassed, remembering too. 

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts.  You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house.  He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him. 

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted.  He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down.  They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy.   You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him.  His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall. 

You were in denial about your parents being bad people.  You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart.  They were just set in their ways.  They wanted a good life for you.  You told Minho to just give them time.  He let you go.  They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day. 

Minho takes a breath.  He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive.  You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head. 

“You look cold,” he says frankly.  “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps.  He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing.  You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door. 

He says nothing, just nods at you.  You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots.  He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats.  When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark. 

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do.  You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship.  You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance.  He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive.  You wanted to keep everything. 

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want.  You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.   

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him. 

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then.  Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze. 

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind.  He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.   

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.” 

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply.  Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it.  Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him. 

He swallows, his throat bobbing.  He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.   

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall. 

Your heart sinks.  It is your turn to swallow. 

“You know about that?” you ask. 

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle.  He looks at you incredulously. 

“Of course I know,” he says.  “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks.  Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.”  He huffs, shaking his head.  “It’s fine,” he says.  “You should be with someone like that.  He’ll give you the house.  The car.  I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling.  You lift your chin and look him in the eye.  “You’re right, my parents do love him.  But I don’t.  He’s shallow and unkind.  And you—”  Your voice catches.  “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that.  You are everything.  And I… I love you.  I always have.”  You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze.  “I know it’s been a while,” you say.  “I don’t expect you to have waited for me.  I just—”

He laughs again.  It is still dry, but not so sharp.  You glance at him. 

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s like you don’t even know me.  I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl. 

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously. 

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him.  He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you. 

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit.  “But I know I want to figure it out.  With you.  And no one else.” 

He smiles and it makes you smile.  Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands. 

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back.  “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you.  He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip.  It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body. 

It is more effective than any word.  He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness.   You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit.  You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. 

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses.  “Torturing me for so long.  I wanted to kill that man.  But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say.  “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.”  That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again.  “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation. 

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head.  You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in. 

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say.  “Just make me forget him.” 

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time.  Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms.  You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it.  Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does. 

Then he gets very serious.  Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body.  Your thighs press together. 

He presses his forehead to yours.  You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down.  The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you.  You shiver, gazing back at him.  His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside.  His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress.  He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side. 

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards.  You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs.  You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.   

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it. 

“You are,” he says.  He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair.  “You are.” 

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you.  He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name.  You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady. 

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue.  It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep.  It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.   

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing.  He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp.  It makes your head spin.   He speaks like that now.    

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth.  When you moan, he moans back.  “I make you sigh,” he says.  “I make your pussy wet.  I make you come.  Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed.  “You, Minho.” 

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs.  They are still quivering from your orgasm.  He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt.  He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you.  He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits.  You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you.  You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his.  He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you. 

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth.   “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him.  You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other.  Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites.  There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him. 

“Yes,” you say.  “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over.  He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss. 

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more.  When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately. 

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home. 

[doraminatook]

We're About To Get Playfully Blasphemous Here (or...The Metaphorical Death and Resurrection of Me)

2023 was the year I turned 33, and in case you didn’t know, many religious scholars cite that as the age Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead.  Now, within literature there’s a trope called the Christ-like figure in which a character sacrifices themself and from that death, something happens in order to advance the plot.  Usually that something is either the “dead” character rising from the ashes and obtaining new powers (think Gandalf the Grey battling the Balrog and then coming back as Gandalf the White) or the protagonist being so moved by the death of this secondary character that they are reborn in some way (think Red Badge of Courage’s Jim Conklin (JC…get it?) whose death changes Henry’s opinion on war.)

Because I’m a storyteller and have a dark sense of humor, I began to wonder if I would somehow have a Christ-like-figure-moment within my thirty-third year of life.  (Not long after my birthday, I told my mom that I just had to make it to 34 and then I would have “beaten” Jesus; being a good Lutheran woman, she did not appreciate this joke.)

Now, I may be reaching or forcing figurative imagery into the literal world (isn’t that what artists do?), but I think I did have a “death” and consequential “resurrection”.  

I’m at a strange place in my writing career in that I am not famous (by any means) but I’m also not considered emerging.  Recently, I was told by a theater that I should “sit this contest out” and give someone else a chance but at the same time my work has not been produced enough to catch an agent’s eye.  (It doesn’t help that theatre companies have an intense fixation on world premieres.  They want to be the first one to do the show, apparently assuming that as soon as a piece gets produced once, that means it’s finished.  But that’s a rant for another day.) 

Currently I live in Milwaukee and for a long time I thought (or at least hoped) that I could maybe just make it work here; it is technically a theater town.  Add to that the fact that my whole family lives in Wisconsin, my financial situation was not ideal, and my best friend (platonic soulmate) had made it fairly clear to me that she did not wish to move away from Milwaukee.  When I was honest with myself, I knew that I wanted to get out, but there were so many things holding me back from making the jump.  

As soon as the thought of moving away entered my head, Anxiety would perk up.  Always eager to be the backseat driver, it would shout things like, “Isn’t life here good enough for you?  You’ve got a roof over your head, a job that allows you to pursue your passion, and you’re perfectly healthy.  Be grateful for what you have and stop expecting something more!” 

I attended a workshop for other playwrights from the area and, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I didn’t have a lot in common with many of them.  Discussions and questions whirled around about how we find time to write, where we get inspiration, and how we format a script properly.  Some of the writers present had never even finished a full script.  I certainly am not bringing this up in order to shame anyone, but it was an eye-opening experience for me.  Was I a proverbial big fish in a little pond?

My anxiety had an opinion for that, too.  

“Wow!  Way to be egotistical, D!  You think you’re so much better than everyone here?  Get over yourself!  You’re not special.  You’re just another ‘artist’ who thinks they’ve got something special to say!”

A few weeks later I was at my cousin’s wedding and after the ceremony, he approached me to offer congratulations for all the success I’ve had…only to then immediately cut me off guard with the question, “So when are you moving to New York?”  As the groom, he was quickly called away for photographs and I never really got to answer his question.  

If this moment had been in a play, the spotlight would have hit me right then and there and I would have begun some contemplative soliloquy where I openly pondered, “New York, eh?  Maybe I should go to New York!”

Obviously, as a theatre person, the idea of moving to New York had crossed my mind; it’s the theatre capital of the US for obvious reasons.  But, at the same time, New York just didn’t feel like me.  (I have a lot of opinions on NYC, especially when it comes to the outrageous ticket prices.  When it costs a small fortune to see a Broadway show, art becomes a luxury rather than a necessity.  But that’s a rant for another day.)  It certainly seemed daunting, and every good dream should be at least a little daunting.  But New York was daunting without being exciting.  It felt like something I should do…something that was expected of me.

LA didn’t do it for me, either.  Nor Seattle.  I considered many locations, but nothing really made me sit up and take notice.  I wasn’t about to dive headfirst into debt and throw away a good thing unless it was something that truly excited me…something that was enticing enough to spark a change.  

Again, Anxiety spoke up, “Calm the fuck down, D!  New York?  Even if that is what you wanted, they’d eat you alive there!  You’re a soft midwestern girl who can’t take criticism and cries at the drop of a hat!  You really think you could handle New York or LA?  Also, the cost of living in any of those places is way more than you will ever hope to make!  Stick with Submission Helper.  Stick with the contests and the festivals.  Go back to dreaming only as big as The Milwaukee Repertory Theatre.  Sit down and shut up!”

It may have gone on like this…if not for the summer of 2023.

Close your eyes and picture it: WGA strike, Barbenheimer, The Eras Tour, OceanGate, the Grimace Birthday shake…and in the midst of it all, I was having an epiphany.  

A favorite television show of mine dropped its latest season and I eagerly pulled out the Chardonnay and the popcorn to binge it all.  The vast majority of the show takes place in London and features several actors whom I admire greatly.  Between the giggles, sobs, and various twists and turns of the emotional rollercoaster that was Season 2, something all at once occurred to me.

This is what I want.  

That’s where I want to be.  

I want to move to the United Kingdom.

Was it daunting?  Hell yeah, it was daunting.  

And it was exciting.  

It was a dream that excited me.  

It burned inside me.  

It raged.

It burned so hot that I didn’t know what to do with it.  I paced around my tiny apartment, simply stunned by the prospect of it all.  

Anxiety was in the process of drinking a quad shot espresso con panna and promptly did a spit take upon hearing this new idea.  In a frenzied panic, it bellowed, “Are you nuts?  What the hell do you think you’re doing?  YOU can’t move to the UK!  It would be so difficult!  You’d need to apply for a Visa…or something like that!  Do you even know how to apply for a Visa!”  

“No,” I metaphorically replied, “but I could learn.”

“I bet it’s super difficult!” Anxiety shot back, trembling in fear, “I bet it’s expensive and complicated and you’ll never figure it out!  I bet your sense of humor wouldn’t translate!  I bet you’d end up broke and living under a bridge and crying because you threw away this good thing you had!”

For a split second, Anxiety almost won…but somehow, prompted by the promise of this new dream, I dared to ask, “But what if it worked out?  What if I could figure it out?  What if I somehow scraped up the money and did the research and filed the paperwork and just made it work?”

If it were a play, I would have been standing center stage, staring out into the audience like some kind of dramatic hero and whispering hopefully, “Yes…what if…?”  

It has been a long road to get here, but, despite what Anxiety likes to tell me, I did figure it out.  The process has been stressful enough to induce atypical Shingles and a few anxiety attacks, but it’s happening.  It’s actually happening!

This October I’m going to grad school at the University of Essex where I’ll pursue my masters degree in Scriptwriting.  I’ll hone my skills as a playwright while learning the ins and out of writing for film, television, and radio.  I’ll take the train into London on the weekends and see every show I can at the National Theatre.  I’ll get new life experiences.  I’ll do my best to explore every inch of that beautiful island.  I’m going to do something new because it’s scary and, most importantly, it’s exciting.  

(To add to the awesomeness of this new adventure, my best friend (platonic soul mate) is moving with me and pursuing her own dreams of studying acting…also at the University of Essex.)

My “death” was not as dramatic or world-changing as Jesus’s, but it gave way to a new life for me.  The power of storytelling combined with a newfound confidence was enough to catapult me into something new, something different.    

And I know you’re wondering what show I was watching that prompted this sudden change; if you know anything about me, you’ve probably guessed it already.  

Along with seeing as much theatre as I can on my visits to London, I also plan to have surreptitious meetings at The Bandstand, feed ducks some frozen peas at St. James’s Park, and maybe help avert an apocalypse (or two).  My birthday is in January and it just so happens that Season 3 is scheduled to begin filming around that time; perhaps on my winter holiday, I’ll put myself onto a train and take myself up to Edinburgh.  I have so many thoughts on what could possibly happen next to my favorite angel and demon…but that’s a rant for another day.

(Fun fact: I say this line at least once a week...if only to myself.)

[shadowed-dancer]

Villains and Their Fates - A Tragedy Would Have Been Fine By Me

I've seen a lot of people who try to write off frustration with the league's fates by saying "you just wanted them to survive" or "you're just upset your favourite character died". And while that may be true for a few people, I know that it's at least not true for myself (which must mean there are others who feel the same way). So today I'm here to share my thoughts. Despite liking the villains and wanting them to be redeemed, I was also willing to accept a well written ending if they died. I just wanted to ramble a bit about the three main villains (mostly Toga) and how I felt a tragic ending could have been improved.

The only villain I felt should have lived is Dabi, but that's more because of the awkwardness his unconfirmed death caused for Shoto (read this beautifully written analysis for more). If Dabi had to die, he should have died on the battle field OR in the hospital surrounded by family where he gets a few last words in. Leaving his fate unconfirmed leads to the ruined Shoto arc, but is also just weird for a character who has existed for so long. You're telling me that even Overhaul gets a confirmed ending but DABI doesn't?

I've also talked a bit about how Endeavor's survival ruins the subplot, and in 426 he continues by making Touya's final appearance about him (rather than the two brothers) but that's something I've talked about too much. If Endeavor has to be alive and hogging screen time, the least Hori could do is imply Touya will survive rather than die, so at least Enji isn't literally stealing time from his other family members to have some interaction with Touya.

If Touya has to end up in that machine, an ideal ending would have been the doctor saying "it will be a gruelling and near-impossible uphill climb to recovery" and then Shoto can smile and say "he's done it before". Boom. Simple as that. Leave it open, but at least on a positive note so we can assume that the family will have plenty of time to reconcile, as opposed to an unknown (but limited) amount of time that Enji vows to use to talk to him (yeah I know it's supposed to be a sweet gesture but even Touya calls bullshit on it). Let Shoto and Touya eat their soba, damn it!

For Shigaraki, my grievances extend to the writing of the entire final battle between him and Deku. As such, I don't have much to say aside from that because it really is just a product of poor writing. Neither were really allowed to talk before the big moment (hell, the vestiges were narrating Deku's emotions half the time like "he must be upset, this quirk meant so much to him". Why not let him tell us???) and the back-and-forth of Shigaraki being destroyed and then not only to be destroyed again was too much. It felt sloppy and hard to follow, and once you figured it out it just felt dumb. It's as if each chapter needed some massive reveal, but the story had done it so much at this point that it just felt tired and like it was happening "because Hori said so", and that should never be what drives a story.

Speaking of "because Hori said so"...

Oh Toga. Out of all the villains, I actually liked her confrontation the most. (Lies. If Dabi vs Shoto was the end of Dabi's fight, THAT would have been the best. But the Endeavor fight ruins it). Despite having limited screen time, Toga and Uraraka had a surprisingly well-built dynamic. Their few interactions were actually meaningful and created a strong foundation for a fight, and at the very least they had more of a personal connection than Deku and Shigaraki ever did. I think that Toga giving her blood to someone she loves (as opposed to drinking/taking their blood like she had said the whole series) is a beautifully tragic end to her character, but still something that could have fit.

To me, the problem comes with how she died. Let me replay the scene for you: Toga stabs Uraraka in the stomach and Uraraka bleeds too much because she keeps moving around. Toga then realizes she doesn't want Uraraka to die. To save her life, Toga has to do a blood transfusion with herself as a donor and she dies because she has to give ALL her blood.

Now... sure. Ok. Fine. Yeah. Maybe by real-world logic this makes sense. I guess. Whatever. But within the world of MHA, this setup is laughable.

Here's a list of things characters survived (or at least, they survived LONG ENOUGH to get to a hospital rather than dying on the battlefield): Deku shattering his bones with 1 million percent, whatever happened to Best Jeanist when AFO attacked him, Nighteye getting a massive spike through the torso, All Might with "his entrails strewn across the ground", Bakugo becoming Swiss cheese, Grand Torino being punched so hard a crater forms beneath him, Touya being a literal flaming skeleton, Bakugo's heart exploding, Edgeshot becoming a worm. Mirko getting a limb ripped off and then running full speed at Shigaraki. That's just off the top of my head, I know there's probably more.

But you want to tell me that Uraraka getting stabbed and then moving was a fatal wound that required ALL TOGA'S BLOOD? ALL OF IT? The reason Toga's death bothers me is that the setup cheapens the actual moment of sacrifice. It feels preventable, so when she tells us that Uraraka is going to die without her blood, all I could do is roll my eyes because I'm not allowed to use critical thinking skills, I have to just accept what Hori says and take it at face value.

If the author wants you to live as Edgeworm despite saying you were gonna die, you can. But if the author needs a stab wound to be fatal and require ALL of someone's blood? Well tough luck bud, that's just how it goes. Mirko can run and move all she wants after having a limb ripped off, but moving a bit after one stab wound is fatal. Why? Because I say so.

If Uraraka's wound was actually serious then this ending would have been a beautiful tragedy. But as it stands now, the ridiculousness of her wound makes it all feel preventable.

Oh, there's also the fact that Toga switching blood types when she transforms was never established, but I've rambled enough.

That's it. Thanks for reading!

[12raccoonsinadress]

Harvey smut !! I don’t have a plot have a idea for it buuut if could give it some plot that leads into smut

Fem!reader

Stress Is Bad For Your Health: Harvey x Fem!Reader (Smut)

Hope everyone is doing well ~ 💚

Art Cred: @mimipippin

Word Count: 4,314

Third POV

You somehow always find yourself here after a long day. You sit at the bar, never drinking much, but trying to soak in some of the relaxed ambience of the saloon, hoping it'll somehow melt off some of the stress. You didn't assume being a farmer would be easy, but that wasn't it. It was being a farmer, helping the community, rebuilding the community center, mining, fighting off beasts. Really the list went on and on. It was overwhelming. You sipped your drink.

As you lowered your mug you could see the familiar green coat in your peripherals as you were joined at the bar.

"Hard day?"

You looked over now. Harvey always had this cute sort of charm to him in your opinion. Like he was just a little bit nervous to be around you. You sighed, running a hand down your face.

"Clint wanted some iron samples from the mine today. I don't think I've ever seen that many bats in my life."

His expression became one that was more concerned.

"Are you hurt at all?"

"No, I'm alright. Just stressed I guess."

You said, sipping your drink.

Harvey didn't seem convinced, watching you as you did.

"Stress can be bad for your health, Y/n. It impacts your immune system and makes it easier to contract illness. Not to mention the long term affects"

"I know, I know. Don't worry about me, Harvey. I'll be fine."

"Have you tried anything to relieve the stress?"

"I tried a few things. None of them really stuck."

Which was true. No matter what you tried, nothing really helped you relax, even this. Harvey hummed a bit, trying to think for a moment. He wanted to help you, the same way you've done so much to help the community.

"What have you tried?"

"I dunno, yoga, meditating, going to the bath house. And this."

"Well, I can say looking for relief at the bottom of a bottle won't do you much good."

You caught his quick glance towards Pam, who sat across the bar on her third mug of beer. You had no intentions of becoming a drunk, but you could see why that'd be a concern for him.

"I'm not. Trust me, Harvey, I have no interest in drinking myself stupid."

He seemed to relax a bit at that, though still thinking on your behalf.

"Surely there's something that'll help you relax."

You shrugged. You were used to it, not that that was a good thing. His face went a bit red as a thought dawned on him.

Both of you were painfully aware of the tension you had, but it was something neither of you could possibly find a way to address without making things weird. And now, he was considering breaching that barrier between the comfortable tension where no one needed to say anything, and the certainty that you had feelings for each other but all the unknown that comes with that.

"I apologize if this is an invasive question, but have you considered, uh, finding someone to assist you with your stress relief."

You looked at him for a moment, puzzled, like you might not have been following what he said. He continued quickly, more flustered now.

"I just mean, in the sense of, suggesting it as another option that may help you. Plenty of people seek intimacy as a form of stress relief or regulation."

You blushed now too. You hadn't considered getting the stressed fucked out of you, but you also weren't really the one night stand type of person. And with how small Pelican Town was, you didn't think sleeping around would be the best idea anyway. You looked at Harvey, who looked nervous enough to fall off his bar stool. You decided to try and lighten the mood. Or maybe just tease him. Either would be ideal.

"Is this an offer, doctor?"

He blushed harder if that was at all possible. He stammered out quickly.

"I- Well, I wouldn't- Not necessarily."

You raised a brow, an amused smile creeping onto your face. You sort of liked that idea, letting Harvey try and help you relieve your stress.

"Well, if I were to try this method of stress relief, who better to put myself into the hands of than the trusted town doctor?"

You smiled, leaning on the counter and tipping your head. He took a moment, analyzing all the thousands of ways this could be wrong versus how incredibly beautiful he thought you were and how he wouldn't want to give you off to someone else for this. He was looking away as he spoke, too nervous to look at you.

"If.. you believe it'd be in your best interest, I don't see any issue with.. ah, assisting you with your stress problems."

You put the money for your drink down on the bar and extended a hand to him.

"Shall we then?"

"Now?"

"I don't see why not. As long as you don't bite as much as the bats tried to."

You winked. Despite being mildly concerned about that comment, he did take your hand. You left together, making the walk out to the farm. The walk was quiet. He was thinking about all the ways this could go. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint you, especially when this was, or so he kept telling himself, for your health. He wondered if this would effect his chances with you, in a positive or negative way. On one hand, it was an opportunity to get closer to one another on an emotional and physical level, but on the other, to skip over so many of the usually relationship steps and get right to sex wasn't the kind of thing that had a good track record of leading to long term partnerships. He didn't want this to be a one night stand or some kind of friends with benefits thing. He wanted to care for you, cherish you, hold you in his arms after a long day at work and kiss your forehead before blissfully drifting off to sleep. He wanted to see you sleepily stumble from the bedroom in the morning and join him for coffee in the kitchen before you both began your day. He wanted to take you somewhere lovely on some sunny day, take your hands in his, and give you a mermaid pendant. He wanted to be the only person you'd come to for stress relief.

Soon you both arrived at the farm. You opened the front door, going inside and kicking off your boots. He followed suit, taking his shoes off at the door. You turned to him.

"You alright if we head to my room?"

Yes, the plan was to have sex, but you still felt the need to ease him into this. He was usually nervous, so you'd imagine now being no different. He nodded. So, while still holding his hand, you led him back to your bedroom. It wasn't anything too fancy or special. Truthfully, aside from sleeping you didn't spend much time there. You turned on a small lamp near the bed, which illuminated the room with a dim, warm, yellowish glow. You sat on the edge of the bed, having now let go of Harvey's hand.

"Is there any particular way you'd like to proceed?"

He asked. He was really a bit lost on what you wanted from him. He wanted to do good for you. You pat the bed beside you, urging him to also sit.

"I figured we could just feel it out as we go."

He sat beside you, though wasn't looking at you just yet. He was steeling his nerves. You admired the doctor for a moment. Gently, you reached over to cup his cheek and turn his face towards you. He looked at you now, waiting for you to make the next move. You figured you'd be leading this for the most part, but were surprised when he reached for you, placing a hand on the small of your back, simply touching you. He was cute. You leaned in, kissing him softly. It didn't take him more than a moment to adjust and return the gesture. As you suspected, he didn't fight for control, though he didn't fully surrender to you either, doing fairly well at matching you. His hand wandered down, resting on your hip as you deepened the kiss. From his cheek, you trailed your hand down his chest. You'd imagined what he may look like beneath the button up and the jacket. So many layers. Left too much to the imagination. You began your attempt to push off his jacket. He pulled back slightly.

"Allow me. This is for you after all. It wouldn't be right for me to make you do all the work."

His voice was slightly hushed. You blushed hard at that. It was a new side of him. Still caring, yes, but it was more... sure. He took off his jacket, setting it on the foot of the bed. You watched as he loosened his tie, sighing a bit as he did. You were practically in awe. He looked back at you, looking you over a bit.

"If... we are to continue this direction, would you like some assistance undressing, y/n?"

You nodded, maybe a little too quickly. The idea of Harvey undressing you was just too good to pass up. You'd love to feel what those precise doctor's hands felt like brushing against your skin. He moved to be standing in front of you, slipping his hands under your shirt. He wasn't much of a tease, taking it off of you gently but with little ceremony. He set your shirt nicely off to the side before looking at you. There was a bit of a glaze over his eyes. You could only describe it as a look of want. Need.

"Will you be taking off your shirt as well, doctor?"

You teased, breaking him out of his little daze. He nodded, pulling his tie off fully.

"Yes, of course."

He went to work unbuttoning his shirt, looking down as he did. You watched it slowly open up, discarding your bra while you did. You weren't sure what exactly you expected him to look like, but you felt a soft smile creep onto your face. He was him. There was no secret six pack, he didn't look thinner or bigger than he did normally. It almost felt like you knew this is what he was going to look like, and you liked that. He still felt like himself and that was who you loved.

Once he'd set his shirt off to the side, he looked back at you. He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. He leaned down, speaking softly.

"Could you raise your hips for me? It will be easier for me to help you undress if you do."

You did, biting the inside of your lip just a little bit. His hands were gentle, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down to the point where you could just kick them off. He seemed to contemplate going and grabbing them to put with the rest of the clothing, but decided to redirect his attention to you. You, and how absolutely stunning you were sitting before him, mostly naked. He swallowed hard.

"How... exactly would you like me to, ah, assist with your stress problems?"

He knew he had a few ideas on what he'd like to do for you and what he'd like to do to you, but now was about you and what you wanted. You thought for a moment.

"Well, doctor-"

"Harvey."

He corrected you, much to your surprise. He blushed as he explained himself.

"Doctor is what my patients call me. People that only know me professionally, not like this. If we continue.. I'd prefer you use my name."

Your heart melted a little bit.

"Of course."

You continued, correcting yourself this time, using a softer tone as opposed to the teasing one you had intended on using.

"Well, Harvey, I think what would help me destress the most would be seeing the rest of you and deciding from there."

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you saw his glasses fog up, just a little bit. He unbuckled his belt, looking down as he did. It seemed to be how he avoided looking at you. He set his belt aside, soon followed by his pants. You looked him over with almost a hungry sort of expression. You couldn't find the words to describe how you wanted this soft spoken, nervous man to carnally destroy you.

He sat beside you now. You put a hand on his thigh, leaning closer to him. He looked at you, a softness in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. Regardless, you kissed him. He didn't hesitate in kissing you back, wrapping an arm back around you, placing a firm hand on your hip, pulling you closer.

He deepened the kiss this time, getting more excited than nervous now. You liked that. You wanted him to take more initiative with this. You let him lead, almost curious how far this bold streak would take him. He broke the kiss, mostly to catch his breath. You spoke, out of breath.

"I want you on top of me, Harvey."

It wouldn't relieve much stress if you had to do all the work. His face flushed red, and he took a moment to find his voice, nodding first.

"I can do that. Would you like to lay down then?"

You gave him one more peck on the lips before moving to lay back comfortably in your bed. You sprawled yourself out in the most "casual-sexy" way you could manage without putting too much effort in, mostly to tease him. He moved to hold himself up over you, looking down at you.

"If this is the way you'd like to proceed, I should ask if you have the proper... protection."

Right. You almost forgot about that. You couldn't actually think of a reason you would have bought condoms recently, considering your dry spell. It's not like you'd been expecting this tonight. You thought for a moment.

"Does the clinic have plan B?"

He went a bit wide eyed at the implications of that.

"W-we do, but are you sure you want to depend on that?"

You half shrugged.

"I'm alright with it if you are."

He weighed his options for a moment. On one hand, it was risky for multiple reasons, he knew that, but on the other hand, you looked so incredibly enticing beneath him and here you were, essentially asking him to fill you with himself. You were getting inside his head and fogging his better judgement. He nodded.

"Only if you promise to come to me if anything happens afterwards."

Whether that be side effects of the medication or otherwise, he wanted you healthy and taken care of.

You smiled, pulling him down to kiss you. He was so sweet. It's why you think you were so okay with all of this. It was Harvey. He'd never hurt you, he'd always treat you so preciously. While still supporting himself with one hand, his other moved to your waist, moving up and down aimlessly. You let your hands run down his chest, feeling him up a little. A little more curiously, you let one hand wander down further towards his boxers. You smiled slightly against his lips as his breath hitched. You were glad to know you got him excited like this.

He broke the kiss, looking down at you with lidded eyes, a needy expression. It definitely did something for you. His gaze trailed down, as far as it could from his current position.

"May I?"

He asked, a slight roughness to his voice you'd never heard before. It shot through your body and straight between your legs. You nodded, not even completely sure what he was asking to do to you. Then again, you'd let him do just about anything to you as long as he kept looking at you like that.

His hand moved down, fingertips slipping into the front of your panties. You bit your lip, anticipating his touch. He started slowly, brushing against your clit with his middle finger, rubbing at an almost teasing pace. Slow circles one direction, then the other, he'd pause, just for a moment, before pressing a little harder than before and rubbing up and down, a little faster. You started to squirm beneath him, which seemed to be what he wanted as he smiled, ever so slightly.

"I suppose I should ask."

He started, not relenting on his touches.

"If I were to get you to orgasm like this, clitorally that is, it would be a fairly satisfying, but short lived experience. If I were to bring you to a vaginal orgasm, it would be longer lasting, and more intense. However, if you were to finish this way first, it would ideally let your body relax, as well as produce enough slickness to make a vaginal orgasm much easier to achieve."

You gave him a pleading expression, wanting him to get to the point. He seemed to understand.

"All of that to say, Y/n, would you like to experience both tonight, or would you prefer we get to the good part now?"

With the fact that he had continued gently torturing your clit through all of that, you truthfully gathered very little of what he said. What you did gather, was he wanted to get you off, and then fuck you into getting off again, which you weren't necessarily against at the moment. You whined softly as you responded.

"Do whatever you want to me as long as you please stop teasing."

He smiled some at that, though blushing.

"Anything you say, dear."

He said softly, beginning to move a little faster with his hand, though not so fast as to be uncomfortable. You were going to have to ask him where he learned how to do this, because fuck was he good at it. He leaned down, kissing your lips. Perfectly timed, as you arched your back, pressing yourself into his hand, moaning into his lips as he worked you through it, slowing until you relaxed beneath him. He pulled away, letting you catch your breath. He moved back, working on getting your now wet panties off and put to the side. He admired you laying there, flushed red, panting, glistening. A beautiful sight, all for him.

As you came down off your high, you looked over at him. He was hesitating slightly, pursing his lips, sort of messed with the edge of his boxers.

"Something wrong?"

You asked, catching his attention.

"No, nothing is wrong. Apologies, I was just a little distracted."

You weren't completely sure you believed that. You didn't have much time to look into it more though, because you were promptly distracted by him pulling his boxers off. You felt a slight chill wash over your body, mostly in anticipation. It'd been a minute since you'd had anyone, or anything really, inside of you like this. He wasn't an intimidating size by any means though he might have been slightly girthier than you would have said you were used to. You could imagine how good he'd feel filling you up, how nicely he'd stretch you. Thankfully, you didn't have to just imagine for long.

He set his boxers aside, adjusting his glasses slightly. He moved his hand back between your legs, pushing a finger in carefully. You bit your lips as he rocked it inside of you for a moment before going and adding a second. He almost looked lost in thought, staring down at his hand between your legs, watching his fingers disappear inside of you with such ease. Soon, he added a third finger and you started to get impatient. You didn't want to wait any longer. With the hand not prepping you, he gently rubbed your thigh.

It was tempting for him to continue like this. He wanted to see you there, in pure bliss, as much as he could tonight. He didn't know if he'd get you like this again. Tonight wasn't about his desires though, it was about you and getting you to relax. He pulled his fingers out, adjusting so he could spread your legs a little more and place himself in between them. You could feel him pressed against you.

"Are you ready?"

He asked in a gentle tone. You nodded quickly, too eager for him to fill you up. He took a deep breath, adjusting, and slowly starting to press into you. You let your head fall back, eyes closing. You let yourself get lost in the feeling, focusing on how he felt as he started to push inside of you. At the same time, you felt his hand grab yours, making an attempt to lace your fingers with his. You held onto him. He was so sweet, even like this. He stopped. You looked up at him now, seeing that his own eyes were closed. He was taking a moment to relish in the feeling of you around him. Warm, soft, and so incredibly good. His chest rose and fell like he had just finished a marathon. It was a sight to behold. When his eyes opened, he looked down at you, gently squeezing your hand.

"Still alright?"

He asked, out of breath already. You nodded. He nodded in return. He leaned down slightly, bringing your hand up to him so he could kiss your knuckles. He places a few, soft kisses there. It almost distracted you from the way his hips began to slowly rock. He let your hand back down, adjusting to pull your hips more so into his lap. He was trying to get a very particular angle, guiding one of you legs up over his shoulder.

"There we go."

He said in a near whisper, giving a more precise thrust now, causing you to gasp, gripping the blanket beneath you. He had to have done this before. Recently. This couldn't be the same socially nervous doctor you knew. He was still his sweet self, but he knew too well how to work your body, maybe more than even you did. Either way, he must've liked the reaction you gave because he did it again, finding his pace gradually. You moaned beneath him, which only encouraged him on. When you looked at his face, it was an expression of focus mixed with need, desperation.

His pace gradually increased until you felt you were going to lose yourself. Just as it started to get to being too much, he'd slow, causing you to whine beneath him. This happened at least 3 times. You couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or not. By that third time, you looked up at him.

"Harvey, please-"

He nodded, seeming to understand your plea as he kept his faster speed. You felt your orgasm start to bubble up inside of you before finally, finally, bursting through your body in a way you couldn't remember feeling. Your body tensed, twitching, your hips trying to fuck themselves down onto him more than just what he was doing as he worked you through it. Right as you began to feel your senses start to calm down, you felt him bottom out, holding there, groaning quietly. You could feel the warm feeling inside of you as he came. He was quite the sight like that. Blushy, sweaty, and completely caught up in pleasure. He lowered your leg, readjusting before carefully pulling out.

He took a second to breathe. Then he looked at your face.

"Stay here. Do you have tissues somewhere? Or, um, maybe a washcloth?"

You gestured to the door that led to the bathroom. He stood up, going that direction to find something to clean you both up with. He took that time to think about what just happened. Not only did he get to be intimate with the woman he was in love with, but he came inside of you. Which, granted, was something he'd have to deal with later. Even so, he felt like he was lighter than air. He came back with a wash cloth, slightly damp with warm water. He cleaned you up, as well as himself.

"Would you like any assistance getting into pajamas?"

He asked. You looked up at him, tired and honestly a little clingy at the moment.

"Harvey, just come here and lay down."

He seemed a little surprised, though did as you asked. He pulled the blanket back so you could at least be beneath it. You got comfortable and moved to be close to him, snuggling against him. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, like you were fragile or maybe as if you'd disappear like some dream if he held you too tight. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, taking a moment to just think.

You were laying here, naked, wrapped in Harvey's arms, listening to the sound of his breathing. You felt calm. Tomorrow, you'd probably be a little embarrassed. Tomorrow, you'd have to talk about it, figure out what this meant for your relationship. You hoped this wasn't just a one time thing. You'd like to do more with him. You'd like to be in an actual relationship. You felt his hand move, gently rubbing your back. You decided to focus on that for now. For now, you were cozy and comfortably pressed up against Harvey's chest, and that's all that mattered.

You felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Whatever happened tomorrow, you were sure it would be okay.

[princeblue]

Sometimes I think about how the fandom has this perception of Giyuu as someone who is mercilessly bullied by the Hashira and can’t defend himself when that is literally not true, like. Giyuu continuously digs a hole for himself when he is around them, he uses these words like “im not like you guys” after he decides he’s going to walk out of the Hashira meeting because he thinks he can’t unlock the demon slayer mark.

And who wouldn’t look at Giyuu, a stoic man who hardly interacts with the other Hashira and uses words in a monotone voice saying he’s different from everyone else and not think “this guy thinks he’s above us” which is literally what Sanemi thinks when he sees Giyuu and Giyuu’s behavior.

Sanemi grew up a poor child in a poor town with people who did look down on him for his very existence, why would he not challenge and provoke someone who, in sanemi’s eyes, is saying he’s better/different than everyone else without no real proof?

And again, Giyuu is given two opportunities to explain himself, to actually say what he thinks about himself and his status of a Hashira. But he does not, and when he’s given the second opportunity (sanemi asking him “what do you mean by that”) he instead brushes off his fellow Hashira and continues to walk away, once again affirming this ideal of a person who thinks himself higher above the others.

At most the majority of the Hashira think of Giyuu with either curiosity or nothing at all, Sanemi and Obanai are the only ones who really don’t like him and voice their opinions on him which is always with contempt and Shinobu is the only one who is generally kind to him because she wants to be, and even then she has her moments of frustration and cruelty (“nobody likes you” in the mountains) which is what I assume is from how Giyuu holds himself and possibly her having the same ideal as Sanemi/Obanai but because of the persona she’s garnered for herself she’s not outright cruel and merely more passive aggressive but again, also curious. Which is where their friendship is sparked.

And this isn’t to say that Giyuu should spill his hearts and guts out to the Hashira, he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to. Depression affects people in many ways and there’s no denying he’s someone with an extreme amount of self hatred and depression, but he’s also a Hashira who held his own against an Akaza who was legitimately trying to harm him and unlocked his demon slayer mark, he is capable of defending himself, he is capable of saying “shut the fuck up.” When someone says something about him that is meant to harm his feelings, he’s not some uwu precious bean and if Giyuu had expanded what he meant, “im not like you guys, im weaker.” The Hashira; specifically Obanai and Sanemi, would have regarded him differently and might not have been as cruel.

All in all, it’s very justifiable that Obanai and Sanemi held contempt for him, again Giyuu only continued to make himself look worse in their eyes, but he’s not mercilessly bullied by everyone he comes into contact with, because while we’re at it he’s also a snarky asshole (“why don’t you go train more” when he ties up Inosuke, calling sanemi a simpleton when he says he can’t wait to unlock the demon slayer mark, calling Tanjirou weak/stupid when he’s a traumatized child who just saw his entire family dead and now this strange man is trying to kill his sister)

And it really really fucking bothers me when people hate on Sanemi and Obanai for this, Obanai is a little bit more harder to dive into for me personally, but I feel like his dislike is garnered by being a supposed special person above others and it only brought him pain and death. To him there’s nothing special about being special so why would he like someone who “claims” they are?

Again this isn’t to say that Giyuu owes everyone an explanation, but he’s not owed any kindness or comradeship when he appears as someone who is indifferent or views themselves as simply being higher than others.

[bvidzsoo]

You belong to me

◿Mobster!Hongjoong◸ 

TW: cursing, violence, death, gun, suggestive

Word count: 3,3k

A/N: How do I stop the grip Ateez has on me?? What do you mean Hongjoong posts some pictures and I get a story idea?? Ugh, anyways, this is just a short drabble because why is Kim Hongjoong so hot and what is his latest Instagram post of his??

           The strobing lights of the club were blinding for a few seconds to the newcomers, their eyes forced to quickly adjust to the dim yellowish lightning and the strong pink, purple, and red led lights. They were strung around the club, overhead, lighting up every area of the luxurious place, but they were the strongest on the stage, where dancers walked around and performed using whatever instrument they preferred as props. Some nights I enjoyed pole dancing, but most nights I liked it when I could improvise, dance freely and get lost to the feeling of the freedom music provided. Perhaps my job of choice wasn’t ideal nor well-liked by most people, especially not by my parents, but it paid well and helped me get by quite decently.

It took a little while to get used to the lack of clothing and the hungry of those watching, but in no-time I found myself enjoying the attention, the cheers, the loud howls after my performances…and perhaps the most I enjoyed was the pay check each evening, and the bills men desperate for attention and the touch of a woman would slip into my thin panties or obnoxiously short shorts. The club was in the high-end of the city, only wealthy and influential men visited, courtesy to Kim Hongjoong. A scarily rich and affluential man, well known for his crazed behavior and dangerous affairs with gangs downtown. He was the boss of the underdogs, the man everyone avoided if possible and only got involved with if only very necessary. He was the owner of the club and he took his job very seriously, treating his employees with respect and care, always checking up on them. Misbehaving wasn’t allowed inside his club, and he punished those who didn’t understand this by using creative methods. I had the misfortune of walking in on him waterboarding a man, saying something about how he didn’t respect his end of the deal, before Hongjoong’s eyes found me and I was ushered out of his office, his eyes conveying a silent warning to stay quiet about what I had seen. And I had no intention of telling anyone what I had witnessed, afraid to meet a similar fate to that man.

Kim Hongjoong was someone whom I feared, but also respected. He was diligent and worked hard, at the end of each shift checking in with his performers, making sure they weren’t forced into doing something they didn’t want, checking their bodies for any injuries. At first, I had assumed that he paid more attention to me because I was new, because he didn’t fully trust me yet, and because he was keeping an eye on me to make sure I was being ethical, but upon closer inspection, I’ve come to the realization that Kim Hongjoong didn’t follow every performers steps with watchful eyes, he didn’t buy them drinks once their shifts were over, and he most certainly didn’t arrange his personal driver to drive them home at the crack of dawn, when the streets were deserted and dangerous for a young woman, like myself, to be walking home alone. And Kim Hongjoong certainly didn’t hold his other performers lower backs as he walked them back to their dressing rooms, throwing clothes at them and demanding to cover themselves up. I had assumed there might have been some favoritism towards me as I drew in clients which were filthy rich, but Kim Hongjoong quickly ruined that thought when I overstepped a boundary and meddled with his personal business. He was quick to threaten me that he’d ruin my life if I went running to the police, making me feel small and stupid for even trying to blackmail him. I don’t know what I had been thinking when I did that, but if Hongjoong had paid attention to me up until that point, after my foolish threat he became overbearing, always two steps behind me, and eyes fixed on me during my shifts. It was scary and irritating at the beginning, but I grew used to it after a year of his unceasing behavior and learned to live with the man’s antics. There were times when we ran into each other at the most random places, places where Hongjoong looked completely out of place adorned in his crazily expensive tailored suit, and sleeked back hair. One of said places was the grocery store across from my apartment complex, completely startling me into oblivion as I had been buying some milk, his reflection appearing behind me in the glass door as I had closed it. What was even more unusual was the way he told me I had twenty minutes to get ready before we’d be going out, to where, he didn’t mention. But it turned out he took me out to dinner at a very fancy restaurant. Not many words were exchanged between the two of us during the dinner, but the food had been good nonetheless and neither one of us brought it up ever again.

Tonight hadn’t been any usual, I had walked inside the club around eight in the evening, going to my dressing room and dressing up for the night, doing my makeup and hair. When I pushed the door open an outfit had been laid out on my couch and my eyebrows furrowed as I took in the schoolgirl outfit, slightly uncomfortable having to wear it, but when I noticed a note on top of it and signed as KH¸ I knew I didn’t have a choice but to wear it. And my shift had started out as usual, I was up on the stage and performing by ten o’clock, putting on my best performance and charming men left and right. The cheers were louder than usual and I was requested to put on a second show, surprised by the incessant attention, but not completely bothered as I knew the pay check would be higher tonight. Of course, I didn’t miss the way Kim Hongjoong watched both of my performances, leaning against the bar stool, hip resting against it, and a glass filled with whiskey gripped in his hand as his eyes trailed over my body multiple times, following every move of mine. But the night didn’t stop there, and I had gotten my first ever request for a private performance. The others who I worked with had plenty experience with that, but it had been my first time and I was feeling nervous. Yeji had been nice enough to walk me through the steps of what this meant and what was required of me, and she made sure to repeat the rules multiple times, making me repeat them after her. The private rooms were small and dimly lit, a huge sofa inside with a coffee table in front of it. There was a stereo and a pole in the corner of the room.

The man who had request for a private dance was gruffy and on the older side, but he was well dressed and looked put together as he sipped on his expensive champagne, grinning when I had walked inside. I pushed down my nerves and ignored the slight tremble of my limbs as I thanked the man for the request and stated the rules firmly, reminding him multiple times that he wasn’t allowed to touch me unless I gave him permission, before I put on the music and started dancing, using the pole as well. It felt weird performing for one man only and I found myself uncomfortable as the man watched me with hungry eyes, his grip on the glass tightening with each passing minute, making me hope that the booked time would be soon over. Half an hour wasn’t much at all, but it felt like an eternity, and I had to force myself to imagine the man I was dancing for was someone else…someone younger, someone more handsome, someone who’s smile was crazed and his cat-like eyes burned holes into your skull, gazing deeply into your soul. When the music finally stopped, I felt like I could breathe again, desperate to get out and away from the eyes of the man, who was licking his lips hungrily as I stepped away from the pole and bowed slightly, going up to the coffee table to collect my payment, but as I reached out, his warm hand grabbed my wrist tightly.

“I’ll pay twice as much for a lap dance.” I was stunned for a second as I looked at the man, softly trying to pry my wrist out of his hold.

“You paid for half an hour, sir, I’m afraid we part ways here.” I kept my voice leveled and the man didn’t seem to appreciate what he heard as he scoffed.

“Twice is not good enough for you? Fine, then I’ll pay thrice the amount I just paid right now.” And then, a nasty smirk spread on his lips, as he unexpectedly yanked on my wrist, making me fall onto his lap, “Don’t be shy, baby girl, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

I felt disgust wash over me and I gasped, trying to push myself off him, but he had sneaked an arm around my middle and squeezed me to himself. My skin tingled and my stomach flipped, bile rising up into my throat. I tried to keep the scowl off my face, but I couldn’t help it as my eyes hardened.

“I stated clearly you are not allowed to touch me, so let go of me, right now.” I demanded, trying to push myself off of him again as the man just scoffed and looked at me with an amused expression.

“Really? I think you do want me to touch you, baby girl. You’re just playing hard to get, but you don’t have to do that with me, I already want you badly.” As if to prove a point, he bucked his hips upwards and disgust coursed through my veins and showed on my face as I felt his hard-on, balling my hands up into fists, ready to pound them into his face.

“Release me, right now.” I snapped, voice harsher than ever before as I felt my hands trembling, hating the smug look on the motherfucker’s face as he went to push my hair behind my shoulders, but I quickly slapped his hand away, hard.

“Don’t be rude, I just paid you, bitch.” He hissed and I chuckled.

“And I said let go of me, you old fuck.” I hissed, squaring the man up. Before he could open his mouth to say anything back, I heard the curtain behind me separating us from the rest of the club pulled open harshly, and a familiar voice sounding eerily calm.

“Was the lady not clear enough the first time?” I could hear the sneer in Kim Hongjoong’s voice and I turned my head, taken aback by the dark look on his face, the harsh clenching of his jaw and the handgun in his left hand. I tried not to let my surprise show as I shoved at the man again, but he still didn’t let go of me. It was getting frustrating and I raised my hand and slapped him, momentarily taking him off guard as I swiftly slipped out of his loosened grip.

“You bitch!” The old man yelled and stood, but didn’t get far as Hongjoong pointed his gun at the man, an amused smirk appearing on his lips. He walked further inside the room, with his right hand in his pocket, and came to a stop next to me as I had put distance between the man and myself. He chuckled as his eyes rested on me for a few seconds, lazily looking back at the older man.

“You said you’ll pay thrice the amount? I don’t see the money—”

“And you won’t see it, fucker, I’m not paying this bitch at all.” And the man snatched the money, fallen on the couch now, up with anger written all over his face as Hongjoong chuckled, and suddenly I felt his right arm draping over my shoulders, yanking me into his side. I stumbled slightly and gasped quietly, surprised by Hongjoong’s actions.

“That’s very unfortunate,” Hongjoong sighed dramatically and I felt his fingers rubbing my shoulder, a sly grin slipping onto his lips, “I must demand you apologize to Y/N for disrespecting her and clearly not following the rules.”

The man chuckled and eyed Hongjoong as if he were crazy, “You wish, fucker. This club is a piece of shit, I’m going to ruin you and your shitty ass business.”

“For somebody your age your vocabulary is quite lacking.” The man’s face turned red at the insult, prompting Hongjoong to chuckle as I tried to hide my own amused smirk, staring the old man down. Hongjoong’s hand suddenly started slipping low, down to my middle until it stopped at my waist and suddenly he was looking at me, eyes glazed over with a crazy glint in them, lips pulled into a grin resembling that of a Chesire cat’s, “Tell me, gorgeous, what should I do with him now?”

My mind was blank as I stared into Hongjoong’s deep eyes, getting lost in them, feeling drawn to him as if he were a magnet, “Whatever you wish, Hongjoong.”

A wide, satisfied, grin appeared on his lips as he bit his lower lip, eyes glinting in the dim light, “Anything?”

I gulped and found myself breathless, his expensive cologne invading my senses and his warmth making my skin warm in the best possible way, “You are the boss.”

Hongjoong chuckled and looked satisfied as he turned his head to face the older man, clicking his tongue as he shook his head at him, “Look at you…I hope you said your goodbyes before coming here, because you won’t be doing any talking no more with that foul mouth of yours, you old pig.”

And Hongjoong raised his arm, the safety off as he pulled the trigger, the gun silent, yet still making my ears ring as I jumped in Hongjoong’s hold, squeezing my eyes shut. He had shot the man, pulled the trigger like it meant nothing, as if taking away a life meant nothing to him. I felt myself tremble as Hongjoong’s hold tightened around me and I was being moved, my back turned to the dead man as I felt hands cupping my face, “Open your eyes, gorgeous. Look at me.”

I gulped and took a shaky breath, body trembling as I forced myself to look at Hongjoong, taken aback by the cold expression on his face. He looked unphased, almost content, as he caressed my cheeks, leaning dangerously close as his eyebrows furrowed, he was no longer holding the gun, “Nobody but me is allowed to touch you, gorgeous, do you understand?”

I gulped and nodded wordlessly, trying to ignore the stench of blood which permeated the room suddenly, the hairs on my arms standing as my muscles were tense, “Use your words, Y/N.”

“I understand.” I whispered, voice shaky, as I stared into Hongjoong’s eyes, a pleased expression crossing his features. He hummed before suddenly whistling, startling me as Hongjoong released me, but grabbed the back of my head to prevent me from turning around, as if I had doing that in mind. Suddenly, four men walked inside, men I haven’t seen before, and Hongjoong glanced at them and nodded behind me wordlessly, the men springing into action. They walked past us and I realized they were here to take care of the dead man, but we didn’t stick around for longer as Hongjoong suddenly turned and started leading us out of the room and towards my dressing room, making me nervous as I tried to ignore the whirling thoughts that I was witness to my boss killing someone. What if the police come searching for the dead man? What if they question me? I knew Hongjoong wouldn’t hesitate killing me too, the thought made it a bit hard to breathe, but I just kept stiffly walking as Hongjoong’s hand slipped to my nape, veering me around effortlessly and away from the curious eyes as he pushed me inside my dressing room and closed the door with a loud slam. I jumped and detached myself from him, putting distance between our bodies as I whirled around, looking at Hongjoong with wide eyes. He was smirking as he leaned against the door, rubbing his chin as he placed his hand in his pocket. I gulped and waited for him to say something, but he just took out his pack of cigarettes and lit a cigar, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly. Our eyes locked together and I gulped, suddenly feeling exposed.

“Let’s be honest with each other, Y/N.” Hongjoong spoke up after he took another drag of his cigar, “Will I have to worry about you rattling to others about what you just witnessed?”

I gulped, lacing my fingers together in front of myself, “Will you kill me if I did?”

“Of course.” Hongjoong answered without hesitation and my gut twisted, hands suddenly trembling again. I gulped and nodded, letting him know that I understood.

“Then I won’t say anything to anyone.” I found myself quietly saying, “But you have to promise to help me out when the police gets involved.”

Hongjoong chuckled, and took another long drag of his cigar as he suddenly pushed off the door, and walked towards me, “Oh, gorgeous, do not worry about the police. Even they know not to meddle with my business. This will be our little secret; can you keep it?”

He blew the smoke in my face and I gulped, trying to not cringe from the smell, “I’ll—I promise to keep this a secret.”

“Lovely.” Hongjoong whispered as he threw his cigar on the floor and stepped on it, making my eyes widen as he burned out the carpet, but he seemed uncaring of it as he placed one finger under my chin and tilted my head up, looking me in the eyes, “Private shows are off limits from now on, to everyone. Understood, gorgeous?”

“Yes.” I muttered, and my breath stilled in my lungs as Hongjoong leaned incredibly close, his lips ghosting over mine as he smirked.

“These men will be never able to offer you what I can give you.” And Hongjoong pressed his lips against mine, harsh and hungry as they slipped open while his hand slipped to my neck, wrapping around it as his body was pressed flush against mine. I gasped into the kiss as I felt his tongue pushing past my lips, exploring my mouth, groaning into it as Hongjoong devoured my lips ferociously, walking us backwards. I grabbed the sides of his suit and held onto him, blindly letting Hongjoong walk me anywhere, his sweet taste blooming in my mouth as he sucked on my tongue, my fingers tangling in his black hair, the back of my legs hitting the sofa behind me suddenly. Hongjoong quickly cut the kiss short and pushed me down by my neck, making me look up at him in confusion as he smirked, easing me down into the cushions. My heart was thundering in my chest as his eyes burned with want and passion, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of me, gripping my thighs as my skin flamed, making me gulp as my hands clenched into fists at my sides, chest heaving. He slowly peeled my legs open and yanked me lower on the sofa, biting his lower lip as his eyes followed the smooth skin of my legs, stopping just where my skirt had ridden up. He licked his lips, a hungry look in his eyes as he looked up at me, leaning closer.

“Let me show you how queens get treated, gorgeous.”

Masterlist

[ceofcatgirls]

Ok so here's a text post explaining why I think it's kinda obvious that Messmer is directly Radagon's son :PPP since I either don't see many ppl talk abt it or see ppl outright deny it so let me try get my interpretation out there into the world. You don't have to agree with it I just want to put my thoughts into a cohesive post.

Just a heads up. This post will end up having me sound like I'm insane.

But tbh most ER theories will have you like that and we're here to have fun are we not. So what if I sound a lil insane at times. I think that's normal (I will try to be as consise as I can I promise)

I will now start with the weakest evidence.

Theme song.

As you may know, since its been pointed out a lot, Messmer's theme is reminiscent of Radagon's.

I believe this does point to a connection to them. After all, this is a method uses by FromSoft with other characters. For example, Romina's theme song is reminiscent of Malenia's, with it sounding slightly altered to show Romina likes the rot whilst Malenia does not. They're connected through the rot god.

Same with PCR's theme and Starscourge Radahn. SR's theme sounds more tired and weak due to Radahn rotting, whilst PCR's sounds more triumphant and heroic. After all, it's meant to be Radahn at his prime, not at his lowest like with SR.

So naturally, Messmer's theme being reminiscent of Radagon's is an indication of something. But that something, so far is vague.

Maybe it's because they're both attached to an idealised version of Marika. Maybe it's because they both uphold an order of hers, Radagon with the GO and Messmer with his crusade and subsequent occupation. Ideals Marika no longer follows, but people close to her do.

As I said, this is possibly the weakest evidence. But it's the starting point that there is some sort of connection. That connection judt being Marika, for now.

Now, the second weakest evidence (imo)

Messmer's looks.

Perhaps one of the most glaring things about Messmer is his red hair. Radagon's children, with the exception of Miquella, all have red hair. So when you see a demi god with red hair, it's fair to assume you'll think they're Radagon's child. Hell, this goes for more than demi gods. This goes for the fire giants and potentially even leone misbegotten warriors.

But,,,, well, there's a reason why this is the second weakest evidence.

Because, there is a possibility that one of Radagon's children, besides Miquella, also didn't have red hair. Rykard's hair colour is surprisingly a topic of debate. There's evidence for him having red hair, but also for him being blond.

If Rykard is truly blond, this would mean that Marika's genes carry through Radagon even if he doesn't have children with her (well-- they are the same person after all). Who's to say it isn't the same case for Messmer? Who's to say Messmer has red hair because Radagon's genes carry through Marika, as they are the same person after all.

Maybe Messmer has the same condition as Radagon, where Radagon's red hair is potentially a curse of the fire giants, perhaps Messmer's is a by-product of his fire.

Again, this evidence is weak for a reason. But like the precious one, it hints at a connection.

Third (and last) weakest evidence: (weaker) themes

Messmer is a character of many themes. But one of his parallels is one he has with Malenia.

They both try to uphold and fight for an order of someone they care for. That someone also being a god (well, miquella was an empyrean but he does eventually become a god). A god with golden hair, and a god who weaves gold in their order (gold for Marika and unalloyed gold for miquella). Messmer and Malenia both have red hair, both are blind, and both are cursed from birth. We know Malenia's curse comes from an outer god, but Messmer's seems to he more mysterious. Still, nonetheless both are cursed from birth.

Messmer being a son of Radagon would further emphasis these themes. Him having a child that wants to uphold Marika's will, but then having another willing to do anything to do anything to replace it (going as far as to break her needle and bloom), would fit nicely thematically.

Still, it's not the strongest of evidence. It's nice, nonetheless.

Now, onto what imo are the stronger sets of evidence.

Starting out with the 'weakest' of the strongest: Gaius' remembrance.

Let's look at what the description of his remembrance says.

This is probably one of my most crackpot theories too. But whatever I like so kkkkkk let's move on.

The usage of the word 'elder brother' is what I want to draw attention to. Personally when I first read this remembrance, this was my legit reaction:

BROO maybe this is me being insane and delusional but I don't understand why this isn't talked about further by anyone!!!! The game says both were elder brothers to Radahn.

Now. Yes this could just be the game saying Messmer and Radahn were bros and since Messmer was older he was considered an older brother to Radahn like how Gaius was.

But. FromSoft very much pays attention to details. Including the words they use. Messmer is very obviously Marika's son, is it far-fetched to say they weren't aware of what they were doing when writing that description??

This is the same game company that enjoys seeing all the fan interpretations even if they clash with one another.. they defo wrote this knowing some would read it as Messmer being a metaphorical older brother whilst others will read it as him being his literal older brother.

Mind you, this isn't the first time they've done this. They do it in another instance of the DLC! And it's one I don't see many talk about either. Miquella calling St Trina his love can be both read as her being a manifestation of his love, or her being a part of himself that he loves. Trina being called his fate, rather than love, in the trailer means the waters are further muddied on what Miquella means by "his love".

But anyways, I'm just saying FromSoft is very deliberate with their words and what they choose.

It'd be a nice way to contrast Gaius' and Messmer's characters; one Albinauric, another a Demi god. One in one of the most mistreated races, and another born of divinity. They are opposite in man ways, but they looked past it and found common ground where a friendship could flourish.

It's also just generally a nice double play on the word brother. Very cheeky. Hidding two stories in plain sight with one word is exactly up FromSoft's alley, and they write it very well too.

This evidence, coupled with other evidence, leads me to believe that what FromSoft means is that Gaius is a metaphorical older brother whilst Messmer is a literal older brother (even if he himself does not know this and only sees himself as an older brother in a metaphorical way).

The next theory is another one that relies on themes. But well. Elden Ring is no stranger to those.

Let me just point out, every marriage Marika is involved in results in three children.

Marika/Godfrey; Godwyn, Morgott and Mohg.

Radagon/Rennala; Radahn, Rykard, Ranni.

And yet, with Marika and Radagon, it's just Malenia and Miquella. But then who could be the third child? Would FromSoft really not continue this very clear pattern?

Messmer fills the spot of third (but actually first since hes oldest?) quite nicely.

He'd help create a parallel between Marika's marriage with Godfrey and her marriage with Radagon. In both marriages, she has twins cursed by outer gods. But Messmer was born cursed whilst Godwyn was not because Messmer was born of the same god. Even in name, Godwyn takes after Godfrey, who unlike Marika does not have to carry the burden of his sins. But Messmer couldn't escape from that in the same way.

But, couldn't Melina potentially actually be the third child?

Well, not really, because Melina's themes wouldn't fit that. If she were to be the secret third child, she'd be following convention. But part of Melina's character is that she breaks convention-- particularly she helps you break convention. And that theme is best portrayed by having her actually be the fourth child of theirs.

As I discussed before, thematically Messmer and Malenia fit together because they both wish to uphold an order. In this case, they'd take after Radagon (who is also potentially cursed who couldve guessed...). Miquella and Melina take after Marika, as she is a god, like Miquella, and they both additionally have other halves. Marika also wants a new order, like Melina. Melina is fine with sacrificing herself to being about a new age, just like Marika, and knows she needs to die, not only for the Erdtree to burn, but also because all of Marika's influence must end. She, unlike Miquella, is successful because she learns from Marika's mistakes, because Miquella doesn't realise he'd be like his mother.

It also fits the running theme of Miquella being paired up with Malenia and Messmer being paired up with Melina (one closed eye, both having a vision of fire, which is dangerous to the erdtree) (and by paired up I mean storytelling wise ok 😭)

This briefly became abt melina.. whoops. I like her a lot in case you can't tell. Haha I could say more abt her but lets stop here. The main take away is; Messmer would be the third child of her union with Radagon (obviously cuz she would have to have him before she married Radagon), with the Empyrean twins and Omen twins fitting the role of twins cursed by outer gods, and Melina being special so she gets to be a 4th child uwu

Now. For the strongest theory imo. The butterfly theory.

Perhaps it's already been said, but it's simply not talked abt enough.

The butterfly theory, at least to me, is basically saying each child Marika has with Radagon is represented with a butterfly.

Messmer's only showed up in the DLC bc he's DLC exclusive ofc. But also because he was hidden away in the LoS.

We know the nascent and aoenian buttlerfly 100% correspond to Miquella and Malenia.

As for Melina and Messmer; the smoldering butterfly is said to kindle fires; Melina is the kindling maiden, and she self immolates to burn the erdtree. Even the "vision of fire" line in Messmer's kindling most likely refers to her. Again, wording is very important to FromSoft.

The black pyrefly butterfly is obviously Messmer's, as its said to follow lands scorched by Messmer's flames. They also resemble his fire in colour. And again, they are DLC exclusive and only appear in the LoS.

The reason why these 4 get butterflies and the other demigods don't, is because these 4 are specifically the children of Marika and Radagon. What else could connect them? What else sets them apart from other demigods?

Timeline issues.

I will briefly address these.

As I said, I believe Messmer and Melina are paired up. The Empyrean twins are twins, so timeline wise they showed up together. Imo, it seems Melina is the youngest, and obviously Messmer is the eldest. The start, and the beginning. Again it fits their stories and characters. They even have the same eye closed! With one due to Marika and the other potentially being due to GEQ... oh my.

I believe, personally, Marika has Messmer after ascending and marrying Godfrey, making Messmer a child made outside of marriage. And guess what I'm abt to say..... yes that also fits his theme kkkkkk since he's separated from the other demi gods-- who were not born outside of marriage-- and also goes with Messmer being cast away in the LoS, hidden and separated from everyone.

How do I know Marika has Messmer after marrying Godfrey? Well, its complicated, but this video explains nicely;

I dont agree with some points in the video. However, it's still an excellent video I recommend you watch. It has some excellent points and wonderful analysis. I like it a lot!!!!

The main point I want to point out, that the video shows nicely, is that Marika's marriages are shown through the ribbons on her arms. By her hair and crown, we can tell she's already a god. And by her having one armband, we can tell she's married one-- to Godfrey.

Personally, due to the description of the minor erdtree spell saying "the kindness of gold without order", I am led to believe Marika is gold and Radagon is order, akin to St Trina being Miquella's fate.

I will not get into Radagon's origins, tho I do believe he's always been marika. But if he is Order, then Marika is able to have a child with him after becoming a god and marrying Godfrey. Since it leaves a nice window of time between Godfrey winning against the fire giants and thus the era of the erdtree being established, and then Radagon showing up in the Liurnian wars. In my mind, I don't see why it's not possible.

Why would she have her first child with Radagon? Lol, who knows. Maybe since he is Order, she wanted her child to inherent that trait (as she hadn't grown to hate the Golden Order by now, its early in the timeline). Maybe she wanted her firstborn to be a child of one god. Maybe she wanted to retry and make Shamen again. Who knows, really.. tho personally I lean more to the first option I gave.. It'd make more sense, in terms of character development.

And now, does Messmer know of Radagon? Who knows! Perhaps he's including Radagon when speaking about his mother, knowing they're the same person so he addresses them as one. Or maybe he thinks Godfrey is his dad. Or maybe Marika told him he has no father. Or maybe he knows of Radagon, doesn't know he's Marika, and just doesn't care who is dad is. Honestly, this question can have many answers lol.

Hopefully this made sense. I am writing this quite late at night (-.-)Zzz・・・・ if I have anything else to add.. I prob will later. I'll go over grammar and spelling mistakes after I wake up. Forgive my eepy brain. Hopefully I remembered all my points. And hopefully this was cohesive.

If you have anything to add pls don't hesitate to do so :3<<<<

[collecting-dustbunnies]

Obey Me Nightbringer Theory Time: MC is an Unreliable Narrator

Part 1: MC is an Unreliable Narrator | Part 2: A Clash of Ideals

What if the MC knows more than they are letting on? What if the MC's motives is different from ours, as the player?

(Disclaimer: Long post. Different from my meme content. Contains spoilers for all of NB and OG content. Also I may wake up tomorrow and cringe at this, but hopefully you can enjoy my delirium?)

OG = Obey Me Original

NB = Obey Me Nightbringer

It all starts from the beginning

We can see traces of this from when we first launch the game, with MC's first text messages with Nightbringer. And I'm not talking about the messages that we saw when the game first launched, but the new re-write of those same messages. You can compare the differences between the old texts and the new texts on @impish-ivy 's post here (thank you for allowing me to discuss it here). I'll include some of their screenshots as reference.

Let's take a look at the new version of the text exchange. Now, I don't know about you, but I have no idea what Nightbringer is talking about. But Sheep-chan apparently does! If MC answers that they think they understand what he's talking about, they get to keep their memories when they get sent to the past. But if MC says they don't have a clue? The game assumes that they have lost their memories. This seems like a strong indicator that MC knows something that we, as the player, do not know about Nightbringer and their powers. This exchange is very different from how things played out in the original version of these text messages where:

Yes I know them. Really well, actually = MC has their memories.

I don't know who they are = MC has no memories.

[The official reason for this change was "to make the game more enjoyable for new players", but I don't buy that. In the original version, it was quite clear which option you had to pick to signal to the game that you have not played OG. While in this version, it's way more convoluted, since the player will have no idea what Nightbringer is actually talking about. It just causes people who have played OG to accidentally signal to the game that they haven't. Why change the text to be even more confusing, when the original version would have sufficed for newer players?]

Now let's follow this line of thought for a moment. Nightbringer states that the MC has received "a second chance at a fated meeting", and MC has to answer that they think they know what this means if they want to keep their memories during the time jump. If they don't, then Nightbringer assumes that they have lost their memories.

Which leads me to believe that Sheep-chan is not entirely an innocent victim who was unwittingly sent to the past. Instead, they were a willing participant of the time jump. Maybe they have some understanding on how Nightbringer's powers worked and wanted to meet the brothers again. Maybe they too were curious to see what their ideal world looked like. With this idea in mind, let's re-evaluate everything MC has said and done in NB.

MC's interactions with Nightbringer (and Michael, I guess)

After the intro, the next time MC directly interacts with Nightbringer is in Lesson 12 of NB, where they get sent into a coma after breaking the rules at the Fountain of Knowledge. Let's look at what he says here for a moment.

The first thing Nightbringer asks MC is what they think of this world, a rather unusual thing to ask someone who is kinda sorta dying. If MC says they want to go home, Nightbringer expresses some confusion as to whether the brothers of this world are not to MC's liking. It makes sense for him to be confused here, since he sent MC to this timeline under the impression that they would like this world (or at least, view this world as a stepping stone to reach their "place of joy").

(Then again, if MC responds that they are enjoying this world, Nightbringer is even more perplexed that they can remain upbeat in such a precarious situation. But knowing what canon Sheep-chan is like, why is this surprising?)

After this, he explains that his motive is to lead MC to a place that will "bring [them] joy like no other". This fits what he had said in the beginning of the game:

"Shall I take you someplace you will be happy? Somewhere that will bring you more joy than any other."

"A world you desire, and where you will be desired."

- Nightbringer, intro text message

He then goes on to emphasise that both he and MC want the same thing. He comments on how MC has done a splendid job getting closer to Lucifer and his brothers. This is where I feel that Nightbringer was never MC's enemy, as both parties have similar goals, and they need each other to some extent. MC needed Nightbringer and other mysterious forces to set the gears in motion so that MC can become closer to the brothers, forge pacts with them, and reach their "ideal" world. Nightbringer wants to bring MC to this place of happiness, and he sees MC forming pacts with the brothers as the way to get there. In this case, Nightbringer is a co-conspirator here.

This idea then gets brought up again when MC sees Michael in Lesson 13, when he saves MC from their coma. He warns MC that the Celestial Realm would be less willing to tolerate their behaviour if they ally themselves with Nightbringer (which, is exactly what MC has been doing so far). Is Michael afraid of the MC trying to forge their ideal world together with Nightbringer? Or is he afraid that MC is getting tricked by Nightbringer?

This also explains why Nightbringer never interacted with MC again after this incident. Everything MC had done in NB was what Nightbringer had wanted as well. Nightbringer didn't need to intervene because everything was going according to his plan.

Comparison of MC's actions in OG vs NB

When we consider the fact that MC may have actually wanted to go back to the past and meet the brothers again, a lot of their actions (and even their inaction) makes more sense. When Solomon tells them they need to make the pacts to get back to their own time, MC is in no rush to obtain these pacts. In fact, they don't even think about making those pacts until Season 2 when they are faced with an ultimatum to make those pacts, which is, they have to forge the pacts before MC and Solomon lose their connection to their original time. This is different from the usual behaviour in OG, where they were extremely motivated to make a pact with every brother from Beelzebub -> Asmo -> Satan and employed help from multiple people to acheive this goal. They even took the initiative to ask Lucifer for a pact on the day before they left the Devildom, when they had no reason to do so.

This is very different from how Season 2 of NB played out, as MC simply waited around until each brother went beserk (in the case of Mammon, Asmo and Satan) before they even thought about proposing the pact. In Lucifer's case, even though MC (after much prompting) spoke up about needing to go back to their home, it was Mephistopheles advocating for MC that ultimately convinced Lucifer to let MC go. And later on, MC remained on the sidelines and let the other characters take the reign in rescuing Lucifer from Cocytus. Compared to the original game, where MC takes on a more active role in forming their pacts, MC is more passive in Nightbringer, simply biding their time until the opportunity to make a pact falls onto their lap. Is this how somebody who desperately misses their home and wants to go back ASAP would act?

Regardless of how you choose to play the MC as, they always express some hesitation in leaving behind the brothers of the past. No matter how many times you try to make the MC say they want to go back home ASAP, Lucifer will gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss MC into admitting that they do not want to leave. Simeon in Lesson 35 of NB even reaffirms this by saying "I'm sure you really feel that way deep down inside. Even if you don't realise it". Bruh.

But why? MC should know that their home is with the boys of the present timeline. Why has the MC never considered the repercussions of staying in a timeline that they don't belong in? Or even considered how Solomon could lose his powers for good because of MC's hesitance? Why had MC never once stopped to consider how the demon brothers they had left behind would feel about their absence? This shouldn't even be a dilemma.

Unless... this past was the place they wanted to end up in the first place. That, like Nightbringer had said, this place will bring them joy like no other.

As an aside: One of the few insights we get about Sheep-chan's inner thoughts is the nightmare they have about the brothers trapping them in the attic and preventing them from leaving (in Lesson 33 of NB). Which has horrific implications, considering the attic still did not exist at this point of time. Was Belphegor's imprisonment and the Lesson 16 incident so traumatic for MC that the attic is the place that they associate with imprisonment?

Note how some of the brothers keep suggesting that THIS is the outcome that the MC really wants. But this also provides another possible reason for the MC's hesitation to leave: The fear of how the brothers' of the past would react. The fear of brothers turning against them, despite everything MC had done to protect them. Speaking of what MC had done to protect them...

MC forging their place in the past Devildom

MC hasn't taken active measures to forge their pacts to return home, but you know what they have shown to be more interested in? Asserting their place in the Devildom of the past, and spending time with the past version of the brothers.

The best example of this is Lesson 11 of NB, where the MC hesitates to promise to Solomon to protect humanity, but with no hesitation, promises to take care of the brothers even with full knowledge that they would be punished for doing this. If we remember Lesson 35 of OG where MC, Solomon and the demon brothers went to the reaper's cave to break Beel's curse, Solomon was surprised that the demon brothers' punishments for breaking the reaper's rules (turning into a Little D) were so mild. It was implied that without MC unconsciously protecting them with their magic, the brothers could have died or been wiped out from existence upon breaking the rules.

A weakened MC of the past who retains their memories of this incident in the reaper's cave would know just how severe the backlash would be if they make promises in the cave. But this did not stop them from doing so anyway. This shows where MC's allegiance truly lies: Not with humanity, not with any mysterious forces at play, but with the demon brothers. It's hard to tell what the MC hopes to get out of making such a dangerous promise.

The most optimistic take is that they felt forced to prove their loyalty to Lucifer and his family by taking such a drastic action. After all, MC is used to sacrificing their life for the people they love. Throwing themselves at death is nothing new to them.

The most cynical take would be that this bold decision was actually a calculated move by the MC to assert their importance and their role in the demon lords' lives. To show just how bad things can get without them. To guilt-trip Lucifer and Belphegor who had doubted the MC's allegiance, so that they never doubt MC again.

Regardless of their motivation, the MC's actions showed that they are inseparable from Lucifer's family, and this incident served to further cement the MC's importance to them. This allowed MC to strengthen their bonds with the brothers once again. So that they can create a world they desire, and they will be desired.

Putting this all together

Obey Me: Nightbringer paints the image of a MC being ripped from their home and being thrust into an unfamiliar world. Yet, the MC's actions in NB tell a different story. It shows us that Nightbringer is turning the gears so that MC can go to a place surrounded by people that they love, and who will love them no matter what. Because it wouldn't be enough if the characters of the present were hopelessly in love with them, but the characters of the past should also feel the same way. Even if that is a world the MC does not belong in.

All I'm saying is, Sheep-chan is sus as heck.

[standanddeliver]

Goku Black x Reader HCs (The Basics)

SFW!! My interpretation.

Black is quite the romantic. He feels strongly about how someone should behave as a partner and makes it everyone else’s problem. He’s both traditionally romantic and a little unhinged with it all. He gives you his undivided attention when you speak and ensures that you are the center of his world whenever he can. He loves hard and it could be almost unsettling to learn how he feels about you if he decided to spill his heart out. He always wants to make sure you know how he feels, and I doubt you’d be able to ignore it even if you wanted to. You need to be told how special you are, after all. 

His love languages are… Basically anything that’s on the table. Besides acts of service, he does it all consistently. You are held, he tells you of his adoration for you constantly. He gives you gifts, and your mere presence demands his full attention. He loves to lift you, and to sit and talk with you about your aspirations and inspiration. He wants to hear about your life, your story, and learn what makes you tick. You’re worth his dedication and time, and he needs you to know it. 

Upon realizing he had feelings, Black had to really consider how exactly that happened. It didn’t take long for him to come to the conclusion that it simply made sense, given just how ideal you were to him. It was going to come eventually, he assumed. Once he affirmed to himself that yes, it made perfect logical sense, his next interaction with you was more enthusiastic than usual. 

His indicators to his feelings were things he felt as if you needed to know. He was confident in himself and how he felt about you, and wanted to communicate such. He’d compliment you, your skills, style, and the manner you handled yourself. Alongside that, he’d gift you with things, such as flowers and personalized tea blends. They’re little thoughtful gifts that he’d accompany with comments of how deeply he values you. You would often be told of your value to him in general, how you and he were practically destined to meet, and how he will bring you with him into a most glorious future because you deserve no less than perfection. Y’know, normal and hinged things to say.

His view of you is nothing short of wholeheartedly adoring. You could walk into a wall and he’d stare at you while he thought about how you are quite perfect for him. He puts you on a pedestal, and while he knows himself to be a bit flawed, he thinks that you are even less so than he is. You are the epitome of what he believes his future work is for. He is willing to change himself, to break laws of all types and calibers, even to destroy what he has done, to ensure you get your most enjoyable future. Whatever you did to get him here, I cannot tell you. It took a while, that’s for sure. He just thinks you’re the best thing that’s happened to him. He works to ensure he is the same for you.

His gifts are very personal. He likes to give you little things he dwelled upon for extended periods of time. Like teas to help you with the struggles you have, flowers with symbolic meanings, trips to places he believes would bring you joy, and so on. He also gives luxuries, but that’s only if he believes you would like that better. He deeply prefers to give you something from the heart. But, if you asked him for anything? He will go to the ends of the multiverse for that. You will get it.

Black took the time to learn about you through watching you closely. He would observe you when you did things, and occasionally comment and ask about it later. He doesn’t like to interrupt you. He’s quite intuitive, and could easily draw conclusions about you by looking at past actions and things you’ve said. He likes to ask questions too, but he only does this when you appear to not be busy. He cares about your time. After getting into a relationship with you, he does like to just listen. He prompts slightly, but loves to just hear about you generally. He still watches you sometimes, but it’s more like he comes and sits beside you while you do activities. 

He deals with his emotions in stride. Occasionally, he takes them and places them on the backburner, but more often than not, he’ll acknowledge them and feel them out before deciding a course of action to take from there. Even with the feelings he possesses for you, he allows himself to experience them in the moment, preventing any random outbursts later. He’s surprisingly level-headed when it comes to things that aren’t his horrible and unrelenting grudges. 

Probably says “I love you” first. And it’s heartfelt and thought through when he does. He’s pretty forward. You get a weirdly flowery admittance of love, and he… Won’t take it back. After he’s said it the first time, you hear it at least twice per day. Guaranteed once in the morning and once in the evening, but otherwise you might hear it if he’s stricken with some extra passionate feelings. 

His love languages, to make him feel most loved, are definitely quality time and a tiny bit of physical affection. He wants to feel valued and wanted, and taking the time out of your schedule to spend it with only him means a lot to him. He also likes to be asked about his thoughts, feelings, and views. This will certainly inspire him to feel more fond of you if you care about his things like he cares about yours. 

Would do literally anything for you. I do mean anything. Would die for you. Would kill for you. (either way, what bliss-) He’s quite blunt about this as well. You just ask. Your wish is his command and all. His unwavering confidence in himself and his abilities lead to this mindset of being able to get you whatever you desire. 

This being said, you genuinely only have to ask with Black. His pride will not dwindle no matter what you ask of him. He doesn’t mind. As long as he knows you’re content, he feels similarly. He can be swayed without any extra effort for just about anything once he’s really invested in you.

Things can go either way with him. He can make you worse if you let him, but if you’re willing to stand your ground and remain firm in your beliefs, he will slowly learn to adjust his view and become a better person. He isn’t beyond reason, even if it seems like he is. He will learn eventually, and will change to show this. You can’t fix him but your influence can definitely help him improve.

He shows off through his physical abilities and his intellectual prowess. That, and all the things he knows about you. He believes you will be impressed by his myriad of skills, unwavering determination for his goals, and how generally knowledgeable he is about you. He does pride himself in that last one there, and likes to do things to remind you that yes, he will continue to learn and retain information about you no matter how small. 

He is a horrible Freak(™).

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Ateez Ideal Type

Alright, time to look into these boys Ideal type, as this was a request, but also something I wanted to myself, so here we go.

Okay, some of these cards flew out aggressively lol They got stuff to say about this. I will stress I keep it real, I take whatever messages come to me, it isn't always pretty. We are all flawed beings, no judgment here. Anyway, let's get into this.

Hongjoong (Ace of Wands/Goddess of the Moon) Okay, his seems like the most straightforward or easier to understand first look. He would want someone with fire and passion. Who has that spark of energy and fire. He definitely has to be physically/sexually attracted to this person. I would say he wants someone with a mysterious tone to them. A contemplated and reflective soul. I am getting he would like someone with hint of an energetic side, but also quiet and reserved as well. He would also want someone to inspire and energize him as well. I can see him being inspired by his ideal type as well.

Seonghwa (The Magician/Third Chakra Archangel Chamuel) He would want someone who makes things happen. He wants someone motivated, determined and confident. A person with strong will and can endure a lot. A multi-talented and skilled individual. I am getting no slob, wtf does that mean? But that keeps popping up. You got to have your sh** together with him. Umm, you got to have some masculine energy with him, don't know what his preference is, never assume with idols, but women can have this to, as I have strong masculine energy as a woman, but a strong go getter mindset. If you are the type that gets nothing done in life, bye bit** is what I heard, he isn't here for that lol This dude. Moving on.

Yunho (Knight of Swords/Anxiety) Okay, trying to understand how this is an ideal type? He wants someone anxious or hesitant? Okay, maybe he wants someone who can communicate their worries to him. To cry on his shoulder, okay, that is kind of cute lol He wants someone willing to communicate to him whatever is on their mind. I see him wanting someone who is also not afraid to be confrontational as well. Like share whatever is on your mind. Man, the more I read on him, the more I like him. I am being pulled back to his dynamic reading and how he was able to understand the perspective of each member, it is like he will understand his partners worries, so they shouldn't be afraid to express their worries or themselves. Wow, I really like his energy. This is sweet.

Yeosang (Judgment/Woman Holding Coin) Well, he went specific with oracle card lol Okay, this is weird, what is this? He would want someone to help him grow, maybe help build his finances. He would want a business Savy person. I am getting someone highly critical and judgmental, someone with high standards, I am getting strong Earth placements here. He would someone well put together. A strong independent person. I am also getting someone who is always willing to grow and work on themselves. I am also getting someone who is admired by others, or who have others who work under them, I guess he would want someone who has some sort of power. Okay, that was kind of wild lol Where these messages take me sometimes.

San (9 of Swords/Broken Heart) I see these cards and I am like why, why, why? These cards are so sad. I am confused. I look at the 9 of swords and mental anguish pops up. I look at the oracle card and feeling hurt pops up, has he been hurt? Am I not getting his ideal type, because he has been hurt that he doesn't care about an ideal type? Okay, so I got, what is the point of an ideal type, they are all the same, yikes. Yeah, I don't think he particularly has an ideal type right now.

Mingi (10 of Wands/The Thinking Woman) He would want someone who can endure a lot and can handle a lot. Who wouldn't buckle under the pressure. He would want someone smart, bold and an intellectual. Someone always willing to learn, maybe someone observant, who reads a lot and gather information. Someone transformative. Also, someone willing to listen. Someone with a lot of thoughts, someone contemplative and reflective. I think he would want them not to be overly emotional, a bit stoic. Resilient and strong. And a sense of independence. Man, his energy is a bit difficult for me, because he thinks fast and has a lot to say and messages always come really quick with him, I can't keep up lol

Wooyoung (9 of Wands/Woman Holding Heart) He would want a loving, caring, sensitive person, someone vulnerable, but he would also want someone who protects and guards themselves as well, a bit contradicting here. I am like, how do you have the 9 of wands, but the woman holding heart card? These are two different energies. It is like he would want someone to hold strong in front of others, but bring their more sensitive side with him, kind of makes sense, since he can be similar to this, but I will see when I do them as a boyfriend. It is like being sensitive and caring, but also having boundaries and holding your own. Okay, that kind of makes sense.

Jongho (Knave of Wands/Walking Away) Boy, what is this? Okay, what this is giving me, I can't with this dude lol I am just going to go with it, anyway, he would want someone who is curious, adventurous, likes to explore, have fun, try new things, but willing to walk away when it is done, yup, that is what I am getting, like this was fun, bye. Wtf dude, whatever do you, I say they should have fun. His ideal type is someone who is willing to have fun with it, but he wouldn't want something serious. I got willing to go for the ride and then move on. Man, can't wait to see what type of boyfriend he will be lol

[gayofthefae]

Someone on Pinterest suggested that the censored letter tweet is a letter from Will to Mike and the idea that it's a letter about the painting since it seems to reference a gift or project and now I can't stop thinking about it.

Also the fact that I assumed Mike because signing things love holds weight when Mike does it but it also now holds weight TO Mike. So if he RECEIVED a letter signed love that would also be a beautiful parallel that drives home the "loved the way you want to be loved" idea with them.

Ugh and now I'm thinking about it. That the painting had a note with it and maybe then Will decided it was gonna be "from El" so he didn't give it to him.

Think Jim Halpert taking the letter from the teapot.

We didn't see him grab it, only the painting, but we know better than to say that means it didn't happen.

Will had a letter with the painting (because saying your feelings is hard), it was signed "love" and talked about how

"Anyway, I think you'll [like it]. Sorry I couldn't get it done [in time for Christmas or something etc.]. But you mean so [much to me] and it's been [so hard without you here]. Hope this is [enough to] last until [the next time we visit]. Love, [Will]."

And now that I reread it like that. It's small, but "I think" and "sorry" are very Will things to say while giving someone a gift.

It might have been so simple and right under our noses. Ideally, Mike also finds out independently anyways. So this works perfectly.

"I think, I'm sorry, it's been, last until"

It all fits in a situation we already have.

[cordate-chordata]

Hey this is a weird thing to ask but do you have relationship headcanons for knockout x soundwave

An unusual question to get, so it could be called weird, I suppose, but I'm happy to be asked this! My favourite kind of weird! :D I haven't drawn them in years, but it's still a ship I really like

Answer under the cut

I do have headcanons about them, I guess. They depend on the scenario they're in, though. Like, what their life is like. I most of all like assuming that Transformers Prime played out as it did canonically, and KO and SW then got together afterwards. The exact How and Why? That's more murky. There's multiple cool ways to go about it.

There's a narrative one could thread about KO helping SW get out of the shadowzone. Which is sweet and all. I prefer a narrative where SW gets out on his own. Which, honestly, makes it trickier to spin a narrative on how they ended up together. If Knock Out had helped him, that would have created a reason for why they were interacting already. Without that, something else needs to be the reason why they get in touch again.

Which brings me more into headcanon area and not just plot threading. One of my headcanons for KO is that he's not a particularly good fit for staying an autobot. I see him as someone who'd do good being a neutral faction.

Soundwave is a decepticon through and through, for multiple reasons - political ideals, sunk cost falacy of having lost his cassettes safe for Laserbeak, more of a fighter who sticks to his goals than KO, tunnel vision, etc. I headcanon him to be in a lot of emotional pain with the decepticons disbanding. I like the idea of him begrudgingly coming to Knock Out for help with something (i.e. the best option of a medic available to him), and as they get talking (one-sided talking (at first?)) Knock Out's disenchantment with any faction starts rubbing off on him, OR, starts disillusioning him from how highly he holds the decepticon cause in his mind. Soundwave seems stupid to me with how he keeps holding onto the war instead of noticing how it's never going to achieve his goal of equality between all Cybertronian castes. He's not seeing the full picture whatsoever. Well, "stupid"… mean to say when I believe his reasons are tied to being mentally unwell and traumatized from his losses. His judgement isn't sound; let's leave it at that.

So then they become a neutral duo. Yippie!!! Trio with Laserbeak.

I headcanon Soundwave to have a face under his mask, which is half broken. So it's funny KO has another partner with a broken eye, since I hc him to have been in a relationship with Breakdown. Also sharp-toothed Soundwave supremacy. Also on the broken side the fangs are always visible because his lips and cheek are gone there oops

Also I hc Soundwave to fully lay off his vow of silence, but still not talk much.

I hc Knock Out to be more into bulky mechs (Breakdown, Optimus), but he thinks Soundwave's sleek appearance is attractive in an entirely different way - assuming SW remains in his Prime form, WHICH I want him to because that's my fav Soundwave design, even if others are really good too. KO finds records of gladiator Soundwave someday, where he still looks bulky AF, and loses his marbles over it. Confronting Soundwave about it earns him the information that that look was due to still having had all his cassettes. That info is like a punch to Knock Out's face, making him feel like shit. It becomes a depressing moment lmao sorry

I hc Soundwave to be really old, one of the first Cybertronians to be sparked. Knock Out on the other hand is young in comparisson, having been forged not super long before the war broke out. I like to think he's only just finished with his medical studies and established himself a slight bit in the field up until that point. I don't hc this because of an age gap or smth. I just like viewing SW as this old entity who was still very raw in the way he came to be and took his shape. Since the birth mechanism of Cybertronians is very wishy washy in canon, I have my own headcanons about that: Early Cybertronian's sparks simply appeared randomly on Cybertron and gathered mass around them to form their bodies - Soundwave was one of those. This spontaneous creation became less and less, and when it did happen, it became harder for the sparks to find unused ressources to form a body. Existing Cybertronians started forging bodies for those sparks, and also (maybe; not sure if I'm satisfied with this idea) came up with mechanisms with which to channel new sparks, easing them onto the planet, as the perimeters for them to appear in "the wild" became worse over time. Knock Out's spark appears towards the end of a time where sparks could still be eased in and could be eased in semi-frequently, but not long after that they started to wane and stop appearing at all. So he's the result of a time where only a few Cybertronians were worried about too few new sparks, and then after he'd been alive for a bit, it became a big deal with less and less and then no sparks coming. He didn't care for it much because he was busy with other things and hadn't been around for long enough to see it as his issue. Also he's just not the sort of person to care about that. KO just... doesn't seem like someone who's been alive for ages, to me.

That's a lot of headcanons about their lives separate from each other. What about them together? I don't have many headcanons there, I suppose. I like to think they'd co-exist nicely together. Not a super duper over the top heart eyes for each other couple, but something more mellow, always there for each other but not broadcast as a huge deal. They become deeply tied to each other and do yearn for each other's company, but can exist just fine alone, y'know? Soundwave causes Knock Out to be a bit more serious and less vain sometimes, and Knock Out causes Soundwave to be more lighthearted and show his shitlord memer side more often, when they're around each other.

I can see Knock Out be very caring towards Laserbeak, even if, if pointed out, he'll deny any sort of motherly or fatherly energy he gives off when with the cassette. And yeah, I subscribe to Laserbeak being sentient. At some point I read that they're supposed to be a mindless add-on in Prime (or was it stated in the show?), but nuh-uh. That's a mute mini-bot with no humanoid form.

I think that's all I got! Thanks for asking!