#i’m mostly just playing devil’s advocate here

[humanjarvis]

everybody (including me) thinks caleb cries and throws up when he sees you naked for the first time, but what if he doesn’t?

what if it’s closer to the feeling of all being right in the world? validation, vindication, satisfaction, assurance. you were meant to bare yourself to him, he was meant to see you. it’s just the natural order of things.

it’s proprietary, almost, the way he looks at you. like the moment is expected. like he’s the only one who should.

it’s not that he’s dismissive or entitled toward your body—he’s still reverent and appreciative, subtle awe coursing through his veins.

but it’s not awe that you’re his. he knows you’re his. it’s awe that you’re you. that anyone on this godforsaken planet could look like you, act like you, be like you. be as perfect as you are. be as perfect for him as you are.

so when caleb saunters up to you, placing a hand on your bare waist like it belongs there—that’s exactly what he’s thinking. because it does.

[cyberclouddream]

Mercury Signs in the 12th House

Part Two

Based on signs for Mercury in the twelfth house. Mostly represents behaviors that are unrealized by the native because they’re subconscious or unaware they’re used to mask insecurities.

Click here for Aries through Virgo

Libras get isolated by trying to blend in with everything around them rather than owning their true feelings.

- on the surface they come off approachable, easy to talk to, and genuinely interested in others but they’re just masters at saying just enough to make others think they know them while keeping their real thoughts buried

- bend over backwards to avoid confrontation, but secretly resent that they constantly suppress their own needs

- overanalyze what they say or what other people say to point of jumping to conclusions

- absorb everyone else’s emotionq and dramas but never let anyone else know what they truly feel, since expressing their thoughts scare them

- strong fear of being disliked [ disapproved, disappointing, rejected, abandoned ] leads them to stay quiet in important or opportunistic situations

- act harmonious and diplomatic all the time but deep down they throw mental tantrums because no one truly “gets” what they’re really trying to say

- know how to subtly control conversations and twist situations to maintain the upper hand without getting their hands dirty

- fantasize about perfect relationships and scenarios but are too scared about speaking up on what’s wrong in the real ones

- have a bad habit of saying “i’m fine” no matter how much mental turmoil they’re facing, because they think vulnerability is a weakness

- big or small decisions can leave them trapped in an endless loop of “what if” thinking

- in their head every word has to be carefully chosen to avoid sounding stupid or offending someone, questioning every sentence before it leaves them to their mouth which can result in silence instead of speaking

- they often feel mentally exhausted because their thoughts are never just for them, but filtered through how they think others will react

- often come up with perfect ways to say things but keep it quiet or water it down to the point of it losing its impact

- feel like people would reject them if they knew how they really were so they hide behind pleasant words and shallow conversations

- often feel like its hard to trust their own mind because it constantly plays devil’s advocate with their ideas and thoughts

- rely on others to voice what they’re thinking instead of owning their opinions; may manipulate conversations or guide others to say what they’re too afraid to say themselves

- dodge clear and direct communication because clarity feels risky; often keep things vague or open-ended in case they change their minds later, but can lead them to feel misunderstood and isolation from deep connection

- may struggle with not knowing what they truly believe or think

- often find it hard to start projects or learn subjects because their mind pulls them into multiple directions, away from what’s practical or immediate; their concentration is fragmented

- mentally project their own unspoken real feelings to the point of making others feel responsible for them

- constantly apologizing, often not because they’re truly sorry but because it’s the easiest way to avoid conflict

- have the ability of saying a lot while revealing absolutely nothing about themselves, kinda like speaking like a politician

- prefer literature based on interpersonal dynamics, especially romance and psychology; prefer to read alone

Scorpios feel debilitated by their yearning for vulnerability, yet they fear losing power.

- people may find their way of speaking captivating, or mentally draining, because it feels like it has layers of meaning

- others may feel like they’re untrustworthy because it always seems like they’re holding something back

- can’t stand the thought of being caught of guard so they secretly manipulate situations from behind the scenes, mentally plotting 10 moves ahead

- often feel exhausted because their brain never shuts off from detective mode; they’re always analyzing, digging beneath the surface, and trying to uncover hidden motives; burnt out trying to figure everything out before anyone else does

- often don’t even trust their own mind, analyzing their own thoughts for hidden meanings or motives; often hiding things more than anyone else, especially subconsciously where they can’t decipher easily

- if someone crosses them, on purpose or unintentionally, they won’t know until it’s too late; they mentally keep score and deliver payback when people least expect it

- tend to keep their thoughts and feelings tightly controlled, even for years, where they can suffer in silence alone because many just won’t know the depth of their inner turmoil [ can eventually blow up in very destructive ways ]

- often want others to open up to them about their vulnerabilities, but shut down and retreat when it comes to their own

- they don’t have to say much to control a situation, their presence always feels like it’s watching, calculating, and influencing others to bend to their will, without they themselves even realizing their manipulation

- lock away their most intense thoughts to point of being unable to share them with the ones closest to them

- master of subtext, meaning that they often communicate in riddles, metaphors, and hints because they expect others to read between the lines but when this fails they can end up feeling misunderstood, frustrated, refusing to clarify

- seem detached but internally they’re intensely focused on the emotions and motives of those around them

Sagittarius gets isolated by being like the absent-minded professor with grand ideas yet little follow-through or tact.

- tend to turn conversations into lengthy monologues about abstract concepts that often lead others confused

- often jump from ideas, like going from traveling ideas to the meaning of life

- have a knack for seeing the silver lining in everything, even when it’s completely inappropriate, which can feel like they’re not taking things seriously because they’re too dismissive or naive

- often speak their mind without a filter, and while honesty is admirable it can come off tactless and leave others feeling uncomfortable or exposed

- they often use foreign phrases [ things they picked up from different cultures ] or use esoteric references in their speech, which showcases their love for travel and learning but can alienate others or themselves

- often retreat into their own thoughts to avoid reality, which can lead them to zone out in conversations

- procrastinators with a plan; they come up with great ideas and plans but can drag their feet when it comes to following through with them

- they typically share their experiences in a way that jumps from points without connecting them in easy ways to follow, like missing the punchline or key takeaways

- often focus on what could be rather than what is

- seem curious, like asking probing questions, but act dismissive when it comes to anything deep or emotional

- have inconsistent opinions because their thoughts change frequently, leading others to question their commitment or conviction in ideas, people, or situations

- tend to turn every conversation into a philosophical debate; love to challenge other people’s beliefs for the fun of it, pushing buttons to provoke thought

- their sense of humor is usually unconventional or borderline inappropriate, since they can find humor in the absurd

- often fail to acknowledge practical limitations

- their attention can wander mid-conversation

- can be charming yet inconsistent; people may enjoy their company but feel like they’re unreliable

- often regurgitate information without context

- tend to be interested in the darker side of philosophy, exploring taboo topics that others shy away from; seek truth in uncomfortable places that can either enlighten or alienate others around them

- enjoy playing Devil’s Advocate, especially when it comes to widely accepted beliefs

- often shift between being incredibly optimistic and cynically realistic

- often convey deep truths in a prophetic manner

- use humor as a coping mechanism to navigate the absurdities of life

Capricorns feel isolated by their need to avoid whats emotional or abstract in function.

- tend to approach everything so seriously, in a way that can seem cold or detached

- like mental archivist; really good at retaining details but tend to reference obscure facts or rules

- their internal dialogue is harsh and judgmental, so they can be hesitancy in conversation since they critique their own thoughts before voicing them

- converse with a shield up, wary of criticism so they can sound overly defensive or make others feel like they’re walking on eggshells around them

- often alienate others who seek empathy or connection because they tend to dismiss emotional expressions as too impractical

- prefer to watch and analyze than actively participate in discussions

- hard to see visionary or dreamy side of them because they heavily weight their big ambitions with practicality

- their sense of humor is often sarcastic and dry; it can sound harsh or uninviting

- often feel like they’re not qualified enough to voice their thoughts, like imposter syndrome

- analyze everything to the last detail before engaging in discussions, which can lead to them being paralyzed by overthinking

- chronic pessimist, focusing on pitfalls and obstacles in every situation

- rarely let their complex thoughts or emotions show

- often have long pauses or overly rehearsed speech

- can come off condescending because they overly critical at times, or at least sound that way when they’re giving practical insights

- often turn conversations towards what could go wrong rather than what can go well

- prefer to process their thoughts internally than aloud, so they can come off withdrawn or uninterested in social interactions; others can see them as unfriendly or detached when they’re simply deep in thought or think better in solitude

- have no problem delivering the hard truths, which can make them seem brutally honest and blunt

- speak softly but when they speak it has a certain weight to it that it compelling, even if the delivery is understated

- often use dark humor as a coping mechanism

- when they share their experiences or engage in storytelling they often focus on the facts than the feelings involved

- good at adapting their communication style to their audience, but this can make it seem like they have a facade

- often question established norms or beliefs

- tend to feel like they carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, so often steer conversations towards topics related to duty and obligation

- often reflect on the past and draw lessons from them in conversation, which can make discussions feel nostalgic or stuck in time rather than moving forward

Aquarius get debilitated by their unconventional, and sometimes bizarre, way of approaching conversations and problems.

- often have unconventional ideas that others find bizarre since it veers off the beaten path

- often voice radical opinions because of their strong desire to challenge the status quo

- their way of speaking is often filled with abstract concepts and metaphors

- often shift between being optimistic about the future and cynical about humanity

- their sense of humor is probably quirky and offbeat, coming off as the “wild card” in conversations; some may find it hilarious while others find it strange or inappropriate

- often retreat into their own thoughts because they’re more comfortable analyzing conversations or their own thoughts in solitude

- question everything, even ideas others accept without hesitation

- often have great ideas about how to improve the world but struggle to put them into action

- approach conversations with a logical and almost clinical way, which can lead to emotions feeling dismissed, as they prioritize rationality over empathy

- probably excel in digital communication, finding it easier to express their thoughts through technology than face-to-face, which can create gaps in personal interactions

- often express conflicting thoughts in the same breath

- their storytelling may jump from one topic to the other without warning

- may find it hard to articulate their bold dreams clearly

- they ask a lot of questions but their curiosity seems impersonal, like they’re more interested in collecting information than genuine engagement

- tend to feel overwhelmed by all the knowledge they collect without sorting or using well

- often drift into musing about abstract and philosophical topics

- often speak passionately about social issues but have an unconventional approach to them

- tends to provoke thought and debate by challenging societal norms and intellectual conventions, which can create friction with those who value stability and tradition in conversations

- the depth of their brilliance often lies beneath the surface, where most may never see

- they can come off socially awkward because the bring deep philosophical discussions into casual conversations

- may create their own slang or unique way of expressing that few understand

- may have underlying anxieties about how their thoughts are perceived by others, under their confident detachment

- often present solutions that others find impractical to implement or even discuss

Pisces feel isolated because of their perspectives that transcend reality and logic.

- their mind often drifts into fantasy, making it hard to stay grounded in reality

- express their thoughts from an intuitive place which can make it hard for others who prefer straightforward dialogue or logic

- their speech can shift rapidly depending on their feelings, which can lead to moments of clarity followed but confusion

- tend to speak with abstract metaphors and poetic language

- when faced with uncomfortable truths they may retreat daydreams or fantasies

- often pick up on subtle emotions and underlying currents in conversation, which can help others feel seen but may overwhelm them if the feelings are too intense

- their thoughts can be easily swayed by others due to their empathetic nature

- often drawn to discussions about spirituality, mysticism, and the metaphysical

- adapt their speech to mirror those around them, which can make it hard to pin down their true beliefs or personality

- their humor tends to be whimsical and unpredictable, rooted in surreal observations that others may struggle to find to understand their comedic perspective

- may find mental clarity when there’s confusion or chaos; good at articulating thoughts amid chaotic situations

- often hesitate to express their thoughts out of fear of invalidation or not being accepted

- often tell stories in ways that seem to blur the lines between reality and imagination

- tend to be interested in obscure subjects like astronomy, mythology, and the paranormal

- often approach issues in a non-linear way, providing innovative ideas that others may not consider

- often struggle with sensory overload, especially in conversations

- tend to dwell on abstract concepts and existential questions

- express their thoughts more through feelings than words, like a lyrical communicator

- often have flashes of insight that seems lime divine inspiration

- their advice may lean more towards emotional support rather than practical solutions

- often prefer to remain quiet in groups and absorb the the energy and dynamics rather than participate

- their mind is like a battleground of conflicting thoughts that may spill into their speech

[crystallinecardinal]

So I was thinking about Starlo and Chujin

Hi. I love overanalysis. It’s in my blog title as “lore enthusiast.” Most of this probably means nothing and was unintentional, but I’m like an English teacher when it comes to media I like and am scrounging for canon content— I will see something that might have capital I Implications if you think about it hard enough, and I will shake you by the shoulders and go “WHAT DOES IT MEAAAN”

Which brings me to Starlo and Chujin and a thing I noticed while looking through the Spriter’s Resource for Starlo references. Long rant and UTY spoilers below the cut.

I should start off by saying that Starlo and Chujin are similar, in a way. Both of them are nerds, although for different things. Both are said to be caring. Both dedicated their lives to their work. Both wanted to help monsterkind. Both loved Ceroba. Both had secrets.

These similarities have not gone unnoticed, I’ve found— both by the fandom and the devs of UTY.

(Transcript:

Sword: “It does make sense that, like, Chujin and Starlo are kinda similar, and Ceroba, yknow…. She has a type, I guess.”)

So it’s not a secret these two are similar, and it’s probably intentional to make them parallel each other.

But from there, we get to the meat of this post:

These sprites.

This is where I dive into a lot of overanalysis— I’m giving that as a warning before I start. My point here though, is that these two sprites feel incredibly similar in a way where I speculate if it was intentional or not.

I’ll play devil’s advocate first, though. I’m an artist. I draw things, mostly characters and creatures. Sometimes you just have two pieces looking similar— not because you intended it that way, but because the blocking and composition was best that way.

For Starlo’s sprite, the answer feels simple. All of Starlo’s talk portraits are front facing, so this one doesn’t have a need to be any different. If it was, it may feel out of place amongst all the other sprites, especially because there isn’t a reason for him to have this sprite in particular face a different direction. He isn’t looking around, and isn’t averting his gaze. He’s being direct. The best way to convey that is with eye contact (or at least, implied eye contact) via a front facing sprite. Additionally, even if Starlo was averting his gaze, with how UT’s talk sprites work, there are better ways to convey that than changing the way his talk sprite faces.

Starlo’s character as himself also contributes to the way this sprite looks. It’s a direct contrast to the loud, boisterous North Star. This is the monster behind the persona— one who’s a lot less confident, one who thinks himself a ghost to the people around him. A “nobody farmer,” in his words. When trying to get this across, art-wise, the way Starlo’s talk sprites look as opposed to North Star’s talk sprites are a perfect fit! It’s in the subtle expressions versus animated expressions. This is even down to how Starlo’s glasses are drawn, not showing his eyes behind them, giving him a much more distant look.

As for Chujin’s sprite, the answer also feels fairly simple. The sprite pictured earlier was for his tapes, where it would make sense for most of his sprites to be front facing. He’s talking to the camera, it’s a video log. Being silhouetted also works here— it makes him more mysterious in a way.

That’s what I have to say if you look at it JUST from an art point. However, we like to be a little silly in this house (my blog), so I’m going to overanalyze the hell out of this.

So. The pose.

I’m probably going insane at this point. I’ve already explained the most likely reason for the poses being similar, and don’t get me wrong, that’s probably the main reason why. But also— note the eyes.

According to the Spriter’s Resource, Chujin’s sprites usually have his eyes visible from behind his goggles.

But.

There are exceptions.

I think the reason for this lies in the same reason we never see Starlo’s eyes behind his glasses after he takes the hat off. I explained this earlier when discussing the artistic reasoning behind these sprites— not seeing Starlo’s eyes makes him appear more distant, which highlights the part of his character that’s much less confident in himself. We go from seeing his eyes (or at least, the shape of them behind his glasses, this is a consistency with UTY sprites I can talk about later) to not at all.

This is what makes Chujin’s sprites so important to me.

We’re meant to like Chujin. At least, before we know the truth. We’re meant to think he was always a kindhearted man, a loving father and husband, and a good mentor. All the good things. It’s only as the game continues that you see the imperfections. By talking to Dina, you see he didn’t like the Wild East due to what it stood for, and you learn of the time he came into the saloon all disheveled, uncharacteristically asking for a drink, only mentioning he thought he “saw a ghost”. You learn in the Steamworks of his research, and how he wasn’t as good at robotics as he was made out to be.

That’s what makes Chujin flawed, though. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, none of these things will make a player dislike him. As said— we’re supposed to like Chujin. An opinion and a mysterious saloon visit isn’t the end of the world. We also grow to learn more and more about him, and he seems just like a kind man with a love for robotics (even if he struggled).

And then we learn of Ceroba’s plan. And we learn of something hidden in the abandoned Ketsukane Estate.

This is the first time in the Pacifist route that we actually SEE Chujin, first in a photo.

Note the eyes.

We see Chujin’s eyes behind his goggles here! Once again— this is likely for the reason mentioned before. We’ve only been told mostly good things about Chujin so far! Here’s a photo of him and his family— how could this kind man be wrapped in anything suspicious?

Which then makes the sudden change in the tapes crucial.

We can no longer see his eyes— he’s grown distant, mysterious. This is the part of Chujin that he kept secret from even Ceroba, up until he was on his deathbed. It’s the part of him that isn’t necessarily the loving husband and father we know him as, but rather, this is the part of him that was a determined researcher on a mission. And therefore, Chujin goes from lively to cold.

I’m sure that last bit doesn’t ring any alarm bells at all.

Hey! Remember how I said Starlo and Chujin are similar in ways? This is where I get into that. I’m applauding you from behind my screen if you’re still reading.

I’m now going to talk about Starlo and Chujin as characters, as well as the parallels between the two sprites that started this analysis. For simplicity, I’ll break these into sections. Funky names for a funky reading experience, so I’m not just word dumping at you.

1) Got a secret, can you keep it?

Soooo. Chujin and Starlo’s secrets.

One of the first things that rings alarm bells for me is the situation in which both of the sprites I’m analyzing pop up in. Context is key. Specifically, both of the sprites are used when we’re learning the truth about each character.

For Starlo, we’re learning about who he really is, the monster behind the persona. He takes his hat off, reveals the monster underneath, and we get his new talk sprite. He’s finally stopping, for a second— taking a moment to break the act he’s been playing for YEARS. And he does it all to show Ceroba he’s still there underneath it all, as well as reveal to Clover who he really is. He’s at his most vulnerable state, revealing how he sees himself as a nobody, and a fraud.

For Chujin, we’re learning part of the truth of who he was, when he’s at his most morally dubious. We learn of his experiments, the ones he worked on and hid from his family until he was about to die— only then did he tell Ceroba. We also learn of his views and opinions, the reasoning behind them, and how he lied about his job at the Steamworks. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Ceroba he was fired, because he didn’t want her to think less of him.

So, the main points of this:

Starlo and Chujin both had their own secrets

Both of their secrets are revealed when these sprites are used

Both secrets reveal more about the characters’ identities

Both want to be seen in a good light

The main difference, I think, other than what the secrets entail themselves, are what they mean for each character.

2) Light and dark symbolism?? In MY overanalysis??? It’s more likely than you think

Chujin and Starlo’s secrets both weigh on them. Starlo doesn’t want to break character— he enjoys being North Star and wants to bring a smile to the faces of monsterkind. Chujin doesn’t want Ceroba to think any lesser of him for his mistakes.

Additionally, the reveal of their secrets marks two different things for their characters. For Starlo, it’s a step forward. For Chujin, it’s spiraling down.

This gets really fun considering these two sprites, and light and dark symbolism (not in the traditional good versus evil way).

Starlo’s in the light. He’s showing himself, he’s maturing. He’s being incredibly vulnerable for probably the first time in a LONG time, and finally breaking the persona. He’s working towards a better goal, accepting both North Star and Starlo as facets of himself, but it starts with taking off the hat. It starts with coming into the light, and letting the shadows fade away.

Chujin is silhouetted in darkness. As said previously, we only ever hear mostly good things about Chujin from those who were around him (barring Starlo, although that’s secondhand information, and by some extent, Dina). Martlet and Ceroba saw the best in him, a mentor and loving husband respectively. But as he rambles off to his tapes, shrouded in shadow and secrecy, we learn of what was happening behind the scenes: he reveals part of who he really was, and how much he hid away from those he loved, all away from the rose colored glasses.

3) “Your opinion is wrong” -Chujin, probably

To just point out more ways Chujin and Starlo parallel yet also contrast one another (which I will mention for the section after this as well): I think it goes without saying that Starlo and Chujin have opposite worldviews when it comes to humans.

Chujin believes the worst in humans, primarily due to the Snowdin Attack. He hates them— The War was when the blade was plunged into monsterkind’s flesh, and the Snowdin Attack was only a twist of the knife.

Starlo admires humans, maybe a bit too much for some monsters. He loves their stories, loves the idea of cowboys and Westerns, so much so he creates the Wild East with his posse.

This is what makes these two different, only strengthening the light/dark contrast. The ideas of hate and admiration fit well into that theme, don’t they?

Stick with me here. I promise this is going somewhere.

4) “Monsterkind’s Hero is a title soaked in blood.”

So, the aforementioned views of humans? This gets really fun when you apply it to the crux of Starlo and Chujin’s missions: to help monsterkind during their time underground.

Both want to be heroes, in a way. They both want to help. Of course, this is in different ways— but the main intention behind it is the same.

Chujin, as said, hates humans. He wants monsters to be brought to justice. After the Snowdin Attack, he decides that if he can’t help through Axis, then he’ll help another way. Thus starts Chujin’s dedication to his experiments, which he makes his work and eventually the rest of his life. All of it for a chance to help monsterkind when the time comes.

Starlo’s dedication to the Wild East is similar, in a way, yet directly contrasts Chujin. His admiration for humans and Westerns goes to the point he wants to provide monsterkind with their own “slice of the Surface.” He wants to see those around him smile— his own way of helping monsterkind when they’re still stuck underground.

My point here is that while they find different ways to accomplish their missions (and you can drag more light/dark symbolism out of this— Chujin hidden away in the shadows of the basement in the Ketsukane Estate versus Starlo out in the spotlight), both have so much dedication to it that it becomes their lives.

Chujin, although having a family he loved and cared for, let his experiments drive him onwards to the point it cost him his life. Starlo willingly gave up who he was to be North Star, letting the Wild East become his life.

5) Yes, and?

I could go on and on about more similarities and differences between Starlo and Chujin, but I feel like I’ve brought up what I need to for now.

Why bring all of this up in the first place, though? What’s the point of going on about these characters’ missions, or their secrets, or all the light and dark symbolism you could hypothetically draw from it?

Let me talk about those sprites again.

I’ve spent ages going on about Starlo and Chujin, and how they parallel, yet contrast each other. They’re foils, in a way. These similarities and differences are what make these two little sprites so interesting to me.

You could say it’s all because that’s what the scene needed at the time, and that statement likely has truth to it. I already talked about how. But the knowledge of the context of the scenes and these two characters is what makes me wonder if it all was done on purpose.

Chujin, shrouded in shadow, revealing a part of him kept secret from even those he loved most. His reasoning for his hatred for humans comes on full display, and he begins to formulate a mission, the same one his life would eventually fall to. If the royals won’t see how much he cares for monsterkind, he’ll show it himself.

Starlo, left in the Swealterstone’s light, revealing a part of him the Wild East knows nothing of. His mission starts to redefine itself, and it’s original intent becomes more clear. He only ever wanted to be someone. He only ever wanted to help. Maybe now, with the hat off, he can learn to make others happy, but not forget himself in the process.

A conclusion:

So. Do I think that these two sprites for Starlo and Chujin were intentionally made to parallel yet also contrast each other?

My answer is a big fat Maybe. I can’t be entirely sure.

Truth is, I’m not a UTY dev. I literally only discovered and got into this game a little over a month ago. I don’t know the true intent behind the spritework, I don’t know the conversations that happened behind the scenes. I am literally just A Guy ranting on the internet about a silly little fangame that I have brainrot over.

But! I do have a finalized game and commentary I can analyze, and knowing that some spritework details were intentional (the way that Chujin’s talk sprites face are made to match Ceroba and Kanako’s), I could see something like this being either intentional or a really fun coincidence. The type of thing the devs can look back on and realize “oh! That’s funny how I accidentally made that parallel. I didn’t mean to do that, but it works.”

I can only hope it was intentional. Chujin and Starlo are both incredibly interesting characters to me, especially in how they can be seen as foils. Something as minor as this I think just shows the love put into this game and these characters. UTY is just a great game overall, in my opinion.

But yeah! That’s my ramble, all because I was doing sprite studies and looking for references in the Spriter’s Resource for art. Hopefully I made at least some sense :)

[yallwildinrn]

Snake in the Grass: Chapter 1

For @ckhalloween23's catch-all prompt: An Empty Grave

This is a horror fic I've been working on since May or June. Given my current pace, it probably won't be out until the latter half of next year, butttt since I have this first chapter done (and I wanted it to be done in time for Halloween of this year), I figured I'd go ahead and post this as a preview and a treat! Well, treat for you guys and me haha.

Content warning for alcohol, bars, and general spookiness.

Pool balls whizz & clack against one another, but the sound is mostly drowned out. The bar, while not packed, is bustling with life, as is typical for a Friday evening; the sounds of yelling, laughter, and glasses clinking fill the already cramped space. It’s the victory cry of men who have been itching for the work week to finally, finally, end.

Dim, warm lights mask dirty floors and mysterious stains of unknown origin that seem to infect any and every upholstered seat. The single TV crammed into the back corner behind the bar top has caught the attention of several men, all shouting and celebrating – or complaining – at every pitch of the game with gnashing teeth. The bartender scrambles to sling out drink after drink of who-knows-what for the night’s customers.

Johnny himself is seated at a round, wooden table shoved near the back of the room. It’s almost uncomfortably close to the billiards tables, and each shrill hit against the pool balls becomes harder to ignore as the night wears on. He’s got some good distraction, though.

He lounges in his chair with a Coors in hand, surrounded by his friends. Bobby sits at his right, sipping his bourbon, while counterclockwise from there are Jimmy, Dutch, and Tommy. It’s tight, mostly because they had to steal a seat for Jimmy, but Johnny doesn’t mind. Not a damn bit.

He takes a long, slow sip from his drink. He still can’t believe they graduated from West Valley six whole years ago, and yet here they are, still thick as thieves. It’s not the same as it was back in high school (images of late-night, high-speed rides on their Hondas and getting plastered on the beach come to mind), but given how damn busy they all are, it’s an impressive amount of effort to keep traditions & meet-ups alive – like these monthly get-togethers at the bar, for example.

Johnny half-listens to a light-hearted argument between Tommy & Jimmy about baseball players he doesn’t give a shit about. Dutch, caught in the middle, has decided to antagonize the two of them by playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Things are getting heated, but it’s nothing Johnny finds worth worrying about. A nudge to Johnny’s arm snatches his attention away, and he turns to see Bobby with an expectant gaze and a soft, tipsy smile on his lips. Johnny reciprocates the smile without even thinking; he can thank the fact that he’s at least a few drinks in for that.

Bobby’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Johnny. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath is rich and yeasty, laced with just a hint of sweetness. He smirks at Johnny and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your back doing, old man?”

Anddd there it is. Johnny rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he answers, “Well, I’m no longer bed-ridden, so there’s that. I think I’ll be good to go back in a week or two once Dr. Gates gives me the green-light. I’m not supposed to see her for another two weeks, but if I feel better before then, I’m gonna see if she can squeeze me in, see if I can get back to work sooner.”

Bobby raises his brows in a look of mock shock, but it’s accompanied by a wry smile. “Did I just hear Johnny Lawrence say he’s trying to get back to work sooner? Thought you had worker’s comp to fall back on?”

“I do,” Johnny explains, snatching the neck of his Coors. The glass is smothered with wet drops of condensation that leave watery rings on the tabletop. “Just turns out that worker’s comp isn’t nearly as good as a roofing job. Pays the bills, but man.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. The icy cold liquid feels like a blessing, and he sighs as the bottle leaves his lips.

Bobby shrugs a little awkwardly. He tries to reassure Johnny as best he can by reminding him, “Hey, at least you’re getting comp this time.”

Johnny frowns harshly and shuts his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to will away a headache. He sets his beer down with a soft thunk, and the moisture clinging to the glass is already dripping back onto the table. He glares at a nearby wall and mutters, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Bobby starts with a warm smile, swishing the alcohol in his glass with one hand. “Not working under the table has its perks.”

Another round of loud cheers fills the room. Sounds like someone finally hit the damn ball. “Yeah, but the government also takes half my damn paycheck. Jimmy still hasn’t helped me figure out how to deduct all my taxes yet,” Johnny says, loudly pulling Jimmy into the conversation.

Jimmy turns away from his own conversation with Tommy & Dutch. He leans onto an elbow and smiles at Johnny, but it’s certainly not genuine; if anything, there’s a bite to it. He answers, “Just because I’m an accountant doesn’t mean I can magically fix your taxes, Johnny. Become a business, then we can talk.”

Johnny flips him off, earning a round of chuckles around the table as Jimmy rolls his eyes and relaxes back into his seat. Dutch points at Jimmy with his beer bottle and asks the accountant, “Speaking of, have you finally been let out of your cage? First time we’ve seen you in, what? Months?”

Jimmy sighs, and Johnny realizes that the polo Jimmy’s wearing is probably the most casual thing he’s worn out and about in a while. “Tax season is finally over. Thank god for that,” Jimmy trails off, and he takes a long swig from his glass.

Tommy eyes his friends and pipes up, “Too late for another round of shots?”

Another round sounds fucking amazing. Johnny instead answers, “I’d love to, but my wallet says no.”

Bobby chimes in, “My liver also says no. That first round was enough for me.”

Dutch’s face crinkles into disappointment as he boos Bobby from across the table. His chair tips back an almost dangerous amount while he does. He shakes his head and laments, “Ya think you know a guy, but then he goes to priest school and becomes a damn prude.”

Bobby glares at him as his grip tightens on his glass. “It’s called seminary, and I’m becoming a pastor, not a priest.”

Tommy snickers & nudges Dutch, giving him a mischievous look. He points out, “Didn’t say he wasn’t a prude.”

Johnny snorts, earning himself a Bobby-patented glare, which then sends him into a laughing fit. Sometimes it can genuinely be scary to be on the receiving end of that gaze, but most of the time (especially after all these years,) it’s become damn hilarious. There’s another vicious clack of the pool balls; the start of a new game.

“I hate all of you,” Bobby huffs. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair, dragging his gaze across the figures of his (almost) drunk friends, who are still much more sober than half of the room. “Why do I even hang out with you assholes? What did I do to deserve this?”

Jimmy sips on his glass and looks at Bobby. His lips curl into a wry smile. “Be a prude?”

Johnny thinks he can see a vein bulge in Bobby’s forehead, and he has to stifle another snort. Bobby’s lips pull into a tight, frustrated line across his face. He finishes the last of his bourbon with a small gulp and slaps his palm onto the table so he can push himself out of his chair. “I fucking hate you. All of you. I’m getting another drink.”

He pushes his chair back in with his foot and starts to weave through the maze of people & tables, and Tommy smiles like a Cheshire cat and calls out, “Can you-?”

“No,” Bobby yells back as he crosses the bustling room. Tommy cackles in his seat, and Dutch follows suit, clapping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and howling beside him. Johnny simply shakes his head and leans onto the table, resting on his forearms.

The wood sticks to his skin. He can only imagine how much dust is trapped under layers of sticky god-knows-what. Probably more than he realizes. It’s kind of gross to think about, but it doesn’t really faze him, especially when everything about this bar fits that bill. Not much about this place is great: the bartender’s a dick, the bowls of pretzels are stale as shit and few & far between, it’s impossible to find a seat without a weird stain on it, and there’s never more than two beers on tap.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad, though. Johnny never has to worry about them running out of Coors. It’s a pretty good distance between all their places. The prices aren’t half bad, and hell, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their top ten list of “Shittiest Bars This Side of California!” So yeah, really not all bad, at least if you ask him.

Tommy’s hyena-like cackle grabs Johnny’s attention and pulls him back into whatever conversations he’s missed. “No, no,” Tommy starts, smiling wide. “I’m just- can you believe any of us actually graduated?”

Jimmy levies Tommy with a self-satisfied smile. “No, I actually can’t believe any of you guys graduated,” he teases. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Dutch scowls. “Yes, yes, we know. You made an A once and got into a big boy college, keep it in your pants,” He replies gruffly, finishing his statement with a swig.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy elaborates dryly while gesturing with his drink. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. Our senior year was such a shitshow.”

Dutch smirks and looks Johnny’s way. “I blame Romeo over here. Had no idea a breakup would lead to all that bullshit with LaRusso.”

Johnny stifles at the comment, and his cheeks flush – now red from more than just the alcohol – as he glares at Dutch. He’s about to bark out a comeback, but Bobby cuts him off when he comes sauntering back, freshly filled glass in hand, and retorts, “Oh please, we’re all to blame. We escalated it when we should’ve just left things alone.”

Bobby slides into his chair a little ungracefully, wood scraping against the floor, while Dutch shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He nods his head down a little sheepishly because… yeah. Bobby’s right, as much Johnny hates to admit it. Back at West Valley, they were all chomping at the bit to put the twerp in his place, but none of that needed to happen or even should have happened. They saw red, and LaRusso got caught in the crossfire. It was like they didn’t even see him. Just a conveniently placed punching bag.

The table’s air stills; the rest of the bar continues to thrum with activity while the atmosphere of their little corner slowly ices over. Johnny purses his lips and sips at his beer. Guilt gnaws his ribcage. Even after all these years, after the apologies and many, many steps to make things right, he’s still stuck with bitter memories that choke him up. He opts to study the many dings & scratches on the table rather than meet any of his friends’ eyes.

Jimmy’s the first to break the tense silence. “You know, if we have anyone to blame, it’s Kreese,” he spits out. It hits Johnny like a jab to the chest. He’s taken aback as Jimmy says this, but the man continues, “He put so much bullshit in our heads! All that punch first, think second nonsense. Like, come on-”

“Wait, wait,” Johnny interrupts while waving his hand to stop Jimmy in his tracks. How can he just say that? “Look, he was a total douchebag – I should fucking know – but we’re the ones who took what he said too far. We were still the ones who fucked with LaRusso. He didn’t tell us to do any of that shit.”

Tommy shifts beside him and stumbles over his words. “Yeah, like- but- Look, okay, you’re right, it’s totally on us for taking shit way too far, but Johnny,” Tommy says, and he turns to Johnny with pleading eyes. “He literally taught us to have no mercy. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Johnny frowns. “Yeah, but we took it out of context. He obviously meant to not take no for an answer, to- to keep pushing on despite the circumstances,” he explains. Are they seriously saying this shit? Even after all these years? After everything Kreese did for them? For fuck’s sake…

Dutch is next to speak. He throws Johnny an odd look as he adds, “Did we go to the same Cobra Kai? Because the one I went to taught us to do fucking everything to the extreme. Including the no mercy shit. Hell, he even had us do karate to the extreme. All those extra goddamn practices…”

“Yeah, and they were good for us. We needed some discipline!” Johnny snaps back defensively. His blood is starting to boil with every bullshit argument that his friends make.

He starts to bounce his leg. The sounds of laughter pouring out from a nearby table makes him want to snarl. He doesn’t get it, how can his friends just- just pass the blame onto Kreese? The guy at least tried to help them and make them into better people (before his sensei lost his mind, that is.)

Johnny turns to Bobby, who’s worrying his lip and squirming like he’s sitting on an anthill. “Come on,” Johnny says. “Back me up here.”

Bobby looks away from Johnny, jaw tense, but he turns back. He lets out a breath, look Johnny square on with a worrying level of sincerity, and says, “Johnny. Kreese worked us so hard once that you forget it was Ali’s birthday. She broke up with you over that.”

Johnny’s skin buzzes. He’s all too aware of the overpowering noise of the room. Hell, he feels like he can feel the next table over breathing on him. His stomach rolls. “That is not what happened,” Johnny insists with a hard stare. “Practice that day was not that bad. I remember it. It was fine.”

Tommy scoffs, “Then why were you so quick to go out drinking with us?”

Johnny’s more tense than a stretched-out rubber band, and he feels like he’s going to snap like one, too. He scowls and answers, “I forgot because…”

Johnny blinks and turns his gaze down. Sweat collects at the back of his neck while his chest tightens.

“No, I-I forgot because…”

His mouth is a cotton ball. He’s reaching into his mind, searching for the memory, but he just… it’s not right. It’s there, but somehow, it also isn’t. He remembers being brought in for an extra practice with his cobras, Twig being brought in to watch & help, the end of practice, getting ready to leave, and then…

His temples throb as tries harder to remember, but he can’t. There’s a gap, a void where something should be. It’s not like he’s just forgotten the details, god no. He’s actively reaching into his mind, searching and grasping for what should be there, sandwiched between the sparring and the night at the bar, but he just… He can’t. He can’t get there. Every time he thinks he’s brushing against what might be the memory in question, a pulsing throb shakes his skull, and it rattles his train of thought loose.

His eyes dart between his friends. His heart pounds furiously against his vice of a ribcage, and he wipes his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants. Their faces are a varied array of distress and confusion. Why do they look like that? Are they trying – and failing – to remember, just like him? Shit, why can’t he remember?

A chill threatens to run down his spine. Could he ever remember?

When he was fresh off the breakup with Ali, he would spend hours torturing himself with all the ways he screwed things up; it was his way of trying to nail down exactly what he did wrong. Except… he always left that practice turned night-on-the-town alone. He never touched it, to his knowledge. Is- Is this why? Every time he tried to play the events over in his mind, would he get to this downright anomaly of a gap in his memory, and did it make him feel- well, make him feel like he does now? Sick and shaken?

Is that why he never, never thinks about the inciting incident that led Ali to yell at him and tell him things were done? Did the avoidance become muscle memory at some point so he would never try to recall that night & the memories associated with it?

He knows the answer. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t even feel natural. It’s not like he just forgot; no, it’s more like something was ripped out unceremoniously or maybe strangled and hidden in an unreachable corner of his mind. Does it matter what type of wrong it is? He wipes the sweat from his brow; the heat from the crowd of the bar tonight has finally caught up to him, it seems.

His mind circles back. Why can’t he remember? Why is there a gap? How long has it been there? Has- has it always been there? And not just any gap. No, a gap that, when he tries to recall upon what should be there, snaps up & bites him like a cornered animal. His head is throbbing. He fumbles for his beer and takes a long drink.

He looks again to his friends. He can only imagine the expression on his own face given theirs. He takes a chance and says, “Please tell me I-I’m not the only one who…”

Bobby slowly shakes his head, eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t meet Johnny’s gaze. Jimmy and Dutch don’t move; they simply squirm and keep their eyes down. Tommy’s chest is heaving as he sits up straight and looks ahead with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Johnny knows they must be in the same boat as him. They have to be.

Tommy answers with a shaky voice, “Who what?” Johnny almost drops his mouth wide open. Tommy’s asking that even though the man isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes and looks like he wants to run out of the room?

“Who what? What do you mean who what?” Johnny asks incredulously. “Who- who can’t fucking remember what happened that night!”

Tommy’s smiling, but it’s strained. He answers, voice as tight as his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny grips his Coors so hard he thinks it’s going to shatter in his hands. “What do you mean what I’m-? You know exactly what I mean. Look at us! Look at yourself! Something’s not right.”

“Johnny,” Bobby pleads. At some point he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re- you’re not wrong, but Christ-”

Johnny turns to face Bobby with an eager gaze. He cuts him off, saying, “You can’t remember, either. It’s not just me. Something’s wrong.”

Bobby sighs through his nose. He’s getting frustrated; it’s a tell Johnny knows well. “No, Johnny,” Bobby says shortly. “I can’t remember. But I don’t want to. God, I just… I think I can speak for all of us when I say let’s just drop it. Please. I don’t want to think about-”

Bobby’s practically pleading, but Johnny doesn’t care. What’s more fucking important: a little bit of discomfort or the fact none of them remember the same exact damn thing?

Johnny cuts him off again and snarls, “About the fact there’s a fucking gap in our memories? The same gap for all of us, I’m willing to bet? One we’ve probably had since that night?”

Bobby shuts his eyes, and Johnny’s not sure if the man is going to cry or punch him, but given their shared history at Cobra Kai, it’s probably the latter. Dutch speaks up next, snapping, “Johnny! Just drop it! Yes, our memories are fucked, big whoop. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about it either! I don’t know about you, but I don’t like trying to remember and feeling my skin try to crawl off my body.”

Johnny drums his fingers against his bottle. He can’t fight the scowl on his lips. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore this? Just like that?”

Dutch laughs bitterly. “Seems like we’ve been doing that for years, man,” he says with a shake of the head, but he pauses and looks Johnny straight on. “You know what? Hold on, let me ask you something. Let’s say we do talk about this shit. Have a little pow-wow and Agatha Christie our way through this bullshit. What the hell would we even do? Seriously, how in the fuck would you even recommend we- we try to fix this? Please, share with the class!”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer but shuts it tight in that same instant. His cheeks flush again. He genuinely has no idea where to start, actually. He does know that if they work together, they might have a shot, but Dutch writing him off with that cruel smile makes Johnny want to scream.

“Exactly,” Dutch says like the self-assured bastard he is, gesturing at Johnny with his drink in hand. “We can’t do shit, and since we’ve gone this long without thinking about it, why stop now? Sounds like none of us want to think about it, for christ’s sake.”

Johnny’s throat is tight. He can hardly believe what Dutch is saying. What Tommy and Bobby have been fucking saying. His blood pulses under his skin, and he turns to Jimmy, almost begging, “Jimmy. Come on, back me up. We can’t just pretend this never happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t look him in the eye, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s heart sink. The brunette swallows, lips turned downward ever so slightly, and he hesitantly answers, “Look, I-I’m sorry Johnny. I can’t. Why don’t we just… let sleeping dogs lie? All remembering does is hurt, and we can’t do anything about it, so why can’t we just…”

Johnny screws his eyes shut tight and flexes a hand in and out of a fist a few times. He brings his Coors to his lips, takes a healthy gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with enough force to make his friends jump a little. He glares at them all. He can hardly believe all the bullshit he’s heard tonight.

“Why can’t I just what? Drop it? Why aren’t you pussies willing to do anything about this?! It’s not right! Something is fucking wrong, and you just want to act like nothing happened!” Johnny says. His voice is starting to raise, and he’s getting the attention of a few nearby patrons, but quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em. “What is wrong with you guys? Who gives a fuck if it hurts to think about it! Something is wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t just forgotten. It’s gone. Or- or it’s there and we just can’t reach it but- Who cares! It’s still weird as shit, and you’re all just pretending like nothing fucking happened like a bunch of pussies!”

Bobby attempts to soothe him by saying, “Johnny, please, I don’t think this is as bad as you’re saying.”

Johnny feels his muscles tense, and he swears to god, he might break a tooth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, only able to focus on the traitorous words that just came out of Bobby’s mouth, and when his vision clears, everything is suddenly too much again – screeching pool balls, wails & shouts from the crowd around them, the way his body is vibrating under his skin. He has to fight against the urge to throw & shatter his beer bottle on the ground (likely only because he’s not done quite with it yet).

He can’t believe that Bobby of all people would say that to him. Talk down to him like that. That simple sentence rubs him raw like coarse sandpaper dragged his skin. It conjures up painful memories of his mom brushing aside his pleas for help and, on occasion, Kreese asking him through a sneer if he’s a loser. And worst of all, Bobby knows this, better than anyone else. He’s been the one to listen to Johnny rant and rage about being brushed off and ignored. He knows how that phrase sets Johnny’s blood alight.

Johnny chugs the rest of his beer in one fell swoop and steps out of his chair so fast & hard it tumbles. He doesn’t even bother picking it up. He bites out, “Fuck this. I’m going home. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Pretend for all I care! Don’t come crying to me when this shit blows up in all of our faces.”

Johnny ignores Bobby’s protests as he begins to chase after the taller man, trying to get Johnny to talk to him or whatever. Johnny can’t talk to him, won’t. He can’t even look at him right now. He grits his teeth as he weaves between people, and the longer Bobby follows, the more certain Johnny becomes that he really might start swinging.

Johnny has to shoulder his way into an open spot and wait for the bartender to slide by, but flashing some cash is all it takes to grab his attention. He feels like his skin is going to vibrate right off his body, and he snaps at some asshole sitting beside him who tells him to watch it.

Bobby catches up to Johnny as he’s trying to pay the bartender, worthless platitudes tumbling out of his mouth, and Johnny hisses through clenched teeth, “If you don’t lay off, I’m gonna knock your teeth out, I swear to god.”

It works as intended. Bobby steps back, startled and wide-eyed. Johnny knows he looks a little wild right now, but he just does not care. He feels like he’s one wrong word or move away from snapping, from saying & doing shit he’s going to regret. He just wants to get out of this fucking bar and away from his shithead friends.

Johnny breathes a small sigh of relief when Bobby accepts defeat and slinks back to the table stuffed in the back of the room. He always was the smartest of the five of them. He knew when it was time to leave things be before it blew up in their faces. Johnny thinks of Daniel, and he feels a little sick, but it’s replaced with another wave of hot, tepid anger again, the same kind that haunted him all through high school.

With his tab paid, Johnny shoves his way out of the bar, other patrons throwing protests, swears, & a few obscene gestures at him, but Johnny makes himself ignore it and pushes on. If he starts to pay attention and care right now, even a little, he’s probably gonna get the cops called on his ass, and he just- he can’t deal with that on top of everything else tonight.

He opens the bar door with a hard shove, and the chill night air washes over him. While the streets are neither silent nor empty, it’s still much better than the bar, and he feels his chest loosen enough that he can breathe again. He stomps over to his Avanti, and halfway through sticking his key into the door’s lock, he decides that he doesn’t have enough beer at home to deal with this night.

[lily-fics-11]

Valentine's Day with your Best Friend Robin

***Repost from my old account (@lilyfics11)

This is my first shot at sharing a fanfic thing I’ve written (not beta read). I had to of course start with the one and only Robin Buckley. I’m not sure anyone will even see this, but if you do, I’d love hear what you think:)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Valentine’s Day with your Best Friend Robin

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Ugh! I’m so sick of Valentine’s Day reminding me that no one is interested in me,” Robin sighs as she eats her lunch.

Sitting next to her, you feel a blush creep across your face. You are interested. Very, interested. You have been for a long time now.

“You don’t know that.” You offer, playing the devils advocate.

“Oh please! If there was someone, I don’t know, madly in love with me, don’t you think I would know about it?” Robin fires back with a smirk.

You just laugh at her, knowing full well that you are, in fact, madly in love with her. And she is completely oblivious.

“What!” She laughs back at you, playfully punching your arm.

“Nothing Robin, nothing. But I do have an idea. My parents are going out to dinner tonight, so why don’t you come over and watch a movie with me. Maybe it will make your Valentine’s Day a little more tolerable.”

She considers your offer for a moment.

“You know what Y/N, I’m in, but I get to pick the movie!”

“I’ll see you at 7:00.”

***********

You answer the knock at your door at 7:00 on the dot.

Robin is on the other side of your door holding up The Exorcist.

“Seriously Robin, a scary movie?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just trying to get in the Valentine’s Day spirit.” She laughs as playfully pushes you to the side to enter.

Robin gets the tv set up and plops down next to you on the couch. Much closer than you had anticipated. If you move another inch in her direction you would be practically cuddled up next to her. Your heart is racing. You take a deep breath to try and settle your nerves.

“You ready Y/N?” Robin asks with a smirk. She knows how you feel about scary movies.

You just give her a nod. At this point you can handle the scary movie, but you aren’t so sure about the close proximity.

It’s not long before the movie has you on the edge of your seat.

The first jump scare flashes across the screen and you turn away, finding your face buried in Robins shoulder.

“Hey,” she whispers to you, putting her hand on your head. “I got you.”

Goosebumps race across your skin. You aren’t used to Robin being so tender with you. The Robin you are used to is playful and sarcastic.

You turn your head so you are facing the tv, but decide to test your luck and keep your head resting on Robin’s shoulder. She leans her head on top of yours.

You can’t keep a smile off your face. It feels so good to be so close to her. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

It’s not long before another jump scare pops up onto the screen. You cover your face with your hands.

Instead of saying anything this time Robin just puts her arm around you pulling you even closer to her.

You start to wonder if this is all just a dream.

You feel like you are in heaven, relaxing in Robin’s embrace for the rest of the movie. You talk here and there, but you mostly stay quiet. Enjoying the movie and each other’s company. You never thought a scary movie could make you so happy.

Once the end credits begin to roll you start to pull away from Robin, but she pulls you back in. You look over at her in confusion.

“What,” you giggle, a little nervous.

“Can I, uh, do something?” She asks tentatively.

“Do what?” You ask in confusion.

“This.” Robin leans in and your lips meet.

Once Robin pulls away her eyes stare deeply into yours and she smiles at you, “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

[lilyfics11]

This is my first shot at sharing a fanfic thing I’ve written (not beta read). I had to of course start with the one and only Robin Buckley. I’m not sure anyone will even see this, but if you do, I’d love hear what you think:)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Valentine’s Day with your Best Friend Robin

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Ugh! I’m so sick of Valentine’s Day reminding me that no one is interested in me,” Robin sighs as she eats her lunch.

Sitting next to her, you feel a blush creep across your face. You are interested. Very, interested. You have been for a long time now.

“You don’t know that.” You offer, playing the devils advocate.

“Oh please! If there was someone, I don’t know, madly in love with me, don’t you think I would know about it?” Robin fires back with a smirk.

You just laugh at her, knowing full well that you are, in fact, madly in love with her. And she is completely oblivious.

“What!” She laughs back at you, playfully punching your arm.

“Nothing Robin, nothing. But I do have an idea. My parents are going out to dinner tonight, so why don’t you come over and watch a movie with me. Maybe it will make your Valentine’s Day a little more tolerable.”

She considers your offer for a moment.

“You know what Y/N, I’m in, but I get to pick the movie!”

“I’ll see you at 7:00.”

***********

You answer the knock at your door at 7:00 on the dot.

Robin is on the other side of your door holding up The Exorcist.

“Seriously Robin, a scary movie?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just trying to get in the Valentine’s Day spirit.” She laughs as playfully pushes you to the side to enter.

Robin gets the tv set up and plops down next to you on the couch. Much closer than you had anticipated. If you move another inch in her direction you would be practically cuddled up next to her. Your heart is racing. You take a deep breath to try and settle your nerves.

“You ready Y/N?” Robin asks with a smirk. She knows how you feel about scary movies.

You just give her a nod. At this point you can handle the scary movie, but you aren’t so sure about the close proximity.

It’s not long before the movie has you on the edge of your seat.

The first jump scare flashes across the screen and you turn away, finding your face buried in Robins shoulder.

“Hey,” she whispers to you, putting her hand on your head. “I got you.”

Goosebumps race across your skin. You aren’t used to Robin being so tender with you. The Robin you are used to is playful and sarcastic.

You turn your head so you are facing the tv, but decide to test your luck and keep your head resting on Robin’s shoulder. She leans her head on top of yours.

You can’t keep a smile off your face. It feels so good to be so close to her. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

It’s not long before another jump scare pops up onto the screen. You cover your face with your hands.

Instead of saying anything this time Robin just puts her arm around you pulling you even closer to her.

You start to wonder if this is all just a dream.

You feel like you are in heaven, relaxing in Robin’s embrace for the rest of the movie. You talk here and there, but you mostly stay quiet. Enjoying the movie and eachother’s company. You never thought a scary movie could make you so happy.

Once the end credits begin to roll you start to pull away from Robin, but she pulls you back in. You look over at her in confusion.

“What,” you giggle, a little nervous.

“Can I, uh, do something?” She asks tentatively.

“Do what?” You ask in confusion.

“This.” Robin leans in and your lips meet.

Once Robin pulls away her eyes stare deeply into yours and she smiles at you, “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

[meandering-reality]

What are my intentions?

So I spoke briefly about my situation in the first post, now I’d like to go  a bit more in depth with it and with who I am and what I plan on doing here. First there is something that you really need to know about me before we start, I’m a sarcastic a** (can I swear here?) that likes to play the devil's advocate at times and challenge people's belief systems all done out of love, though it probably doesn't feel like it at the time. I also hate stretching my finger out to use the apostrophe key, luckily there is spell check, unluckily I don't always use it. Oh, and grammar rules suck and I don't remember them at all so get over it.

Back to our regularly scheduled post… that’s one thing I’d like to do. Sit down and just write every day. The subject, life, my life mostly because I dont remember being anyone else and my observances of life in my fiddy-tree years of it. Years are interesting at 18 I probably would have read that and quickly found something else to read. I wonder if an 80 year old would do the same about my writing? The one thing I urge is to not dismiss it because of the years that separate my birthday from yours. I'm not here to tell you to do it my way, honestly I’m here to try and persuade you to avoid it. What I really just want is to share some perspectives that may differ from yours but give you a chance to look at life in a different way.

How do I do that? The only idea I have is to just talk about things and hope they do just that or at the very least entertain you for a few moments. Not all the topics are going to be heavy, though there might be a few ankle weights thrown in the mix. Not all of them might make any kind of sense to anyone but me (or not, sometimes I don't know where I get these thoughts).

I encourage you to ask questions. Questions can help me focus, I am on some pain meds so at times the brain is flapping around thinking it’s on a straight course but it’s mostly just bombarding a seagull. I appreciate it if we could all be respectful to one another though if you are seriously curious please feel free to still ask.

So let me give you the worst dating profile ever and then I’ll leave for the day: I’m a 53 year old, transgender male (transitioned when I was 36) that has been married to my beautiful wife for almost 6 years. She has 4 adult children that have made me theirs and I’m the better for it. I was born in the United States and spent most of my life in California, though in later years I moved around a few states but stayed on the west coast. I am currently living in Nova Scotia as my wife is Canadian.

Almost 2 years ago I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and was extremely weak. They did a complete hysterectomy (not the way to about it boys) along with removing the tumor. When the results came back confirming cancer I went straight into chemo treatments (interestingly enough most of my life I told myself I would not do chemo if it came up but shock and fear left me feeling like a zombie with no choice and I followed without considering options). 6 months after the last chemo treatment I went back into the hospital and found the cancer was back, in the form of secondary peritoneal ( also considered ovarian stage 4 because it spread). The second chemo treatment they put me on made me feel like crap so I decided to stop it and so now I report into the palliative care team which basically means we only treat any symptoms that might come up so that I’m comfortable and no longer do tests that show where I'm with it (meaning it could be gone or it could be larger).

Also I’m a dog person with two cats, wtf?

Okay, that’s it for me today. I will try to write each day, if I can’t think of a topic or no questions are asked, maybe I’ll pull a prompt from a shadow work book or something and really get nitty gritty. Hope to have you tune in.

Much love.

[kryptoniteastrology]

The Good, The Bad, and The Astrology

This is basically going to be one of those “my favourite and least favourite thing about each sign” videos from youtube but in text form. Also most of this is based on observation but I haven’t met a lot of virgos so that part might be a bit sparse. 

Aries: 

The Best Thing: you guys talk about doing something and then you just like...do it? without agonizing about it for hours or weeks? incredible. 

The Worst Thing: think before you speak please. Most aries I’ve met aren’t actually like, rage fueled or violent but most people I’ve met that want to fist fight someone’s mom over arbitrary shit are aries. 

Taurus: 

The Best Thing: You guys can just keep going, day after day and be fine. I love a dependable human. 

The Worst Thing: It might do you guys some good to actually like, listen to people when they speak. I know its hard to change a taurus’s mind but you guys can at least hear someone out and process what they said. 

Gemini: 

The Best Thing: Very good at shutting down arguments, whether you’re a part of it or not. Also if you’re a person who has social anxiety in the way of feeling like you can’t have any silences at all, make friends with a gemini. 

The Worst Thing: Stop playing devils advocate, I don’t need to see the other side on every single issue. Also, we all know you just say shit and don’t mean it quite often  but you could try to actually listen, most people don’t just talk to hear their own voice like you do. 

Cancer: 

The Best Thing: The comfiest people, I mostly mean just to be around but sometimes physically too. You can actually relax around a cancer, even if a cancer can’t relax around you. 

The Worst Thing: Sometimes when you ice people out, they didn’t deserve it. Just because your feelings got hurt doesn’t mean the other person was in the wrong. 

Leo: 

The Best Thing: Okay so i’m a leo rising so allow me to be biased here for a second: a Leo’s drama is the good kind of drama because leo’s aren’t fucking pedantic about it. Leo’s aren’t going to update you until there’s actual new shit happening in the situation. Also leo’s are really good creative collaborators. 

The Worst Thing: Ya’ll are really good at making yourselves think you’re justified when you blow up at people. Also: Go to therapy. 

Virgo: 

The Best Thing: Really good at saying things in a clear way, even when you’re kind of being an ass and insulting someone you make it sound like valid criticism. 

The Worst Thing: If virgo’s have drama its the pedantic drama where you keep bitching about it even though nothings changed in the situation and we’ve all heard about it like twelve times already. 

Libra: 

The Best Thing:  uhh...you guys are pretty nice I guess? I’ve never had a Libra be a complete asshat to me to my face before. 

The Worst Thing: Learn how to make and keep boundaries please. and like actually keep them, not let someone hurt you and pretend likes its fine in the moment and then start talking shit behind their back while you’re still their friend to their face. 

Scorpio: 

The  Best Thing: Scorpio’s are fucking dedicated to things. If they actually want to do something that will start and finish it faster than basically any other sign. 

The Worst Thing: In relation to the best thing about scorpios, ya’ll get a little obsessive about shit and its really scary when you guys get angry. You guys go from ice cold to goat sacrifice in less than a minute. 

Sagittarius: 

The Best Thing: The most emotionally and physically independent people in the zodiac 99% of the time. You don’t even secretly want to be well liked like capricorns do. Ya’ll can just fuck off to a mountain for two years and be fine, and I admire that. 

The Worst Thing: that being said, ya’ll could stand to be a little more accommodating of your friends and loved ones. most of the time you have a way you like to do things and you expect people to accept that without question but you rarely do any compromising with people when they need something different. 

Capricorn: 

The Best Thing: how do you guys function? seriously I want to know. I have an older cousin that’s a capricorn sun/gemini moon and she: Got straight A’s through highschool and college, partied basically every weekend, was working all the way through highschool and college, and helped raise me and my sibling. You guys really know how to work through absolute pure agony. 

The Worst Thing: completely unreadable, most of the time when people are laughing at your jokes its because they’re uncomfortable from not being able to tell if you’re serious or not. 

Aquarius: 

The Best Thing: Aquarians are never afraid to call out their friends and loved out on shitty behavior. Being a piece of shit to them is just being a piece of shit, which is refreshing when you have to keep dealing with certain signs that wont even tell you when you’ve seriously personally offended them. 

The Worst Thing: You know that whole thing with Leo’s about how they’re really good at making themselves think their emotions and actions are completely justified even when they aren’t? yeah take that, add cold rage to it, and you’ve got an aquarius. Just because they don’t care about your feelings doesn’t mean they don’t care about theirs. 

Pisces: 

The Best Thing: Most accepting people you’ll ever meet, for better or for worse. Seriously if you need to be comforted go to a pisces, most of the time they won’t even mind because they like feeling trusted. 

The Worst Thing: Does a pisces every really get their shit together? I’m asking for someone (it’s me, i’m someone) Also huge emotional downers. and it’s not like even if we solve the problem we’re upset about that we’ll feel better for that long because a pisces can always find something to be sad about. 

[trying-to-get-somewhere-real]

Wait what is the New Yorker saying about Ava? I am invested. Please tell us!! Thoughts and how they’re wrong. Thank you in advance

Hey nonnie! The New Yorker’s tv critic, Doreen St. Félix, put Hacks on their “Best TV of 2021” list, but as you can see in the blurb below, they went out of their way to say that they only did it because of Deborah/Jean, and Ava is basically just “millenial stock fare.”

Okay so, I obviously love Jean/Deborah an immeasurable amount, and know first-and-foremost that her performance and character made the show what it is. But I have many thoughts about why this is reductive, unfair, and just plain wrong, and tend to think in bullets because of my job, so here comes a numbered list.

1.  A small thing, but Ava isn’t a Millennial--she’s a Zillennial at best, but really she’s Gen Z! Critics who call her a Millennial with a straight face seem to have completely missed one of the major jokes of the show in such a profound way that it makes me question anything else they say after that.

2. I personally don’t believe Ava feels much like a stereotype after the pilot, but even if I wanted to give this critic some leeway and allow that some viewers might feel that she continues to seem like one for a good portion of the season, it still doesn’t matter that much: pretending you can love Deborah without appreciating Ava is fundamentally missing the point of the show. So much that we end up learning and loving about Deborah is only through Ava--through her eyes and their developing relationship. One of my favorite things that I’ve read on this site this month is @nakedmonkey’s reply to an ask about how someone could really like Ava, and I’m just gonna send you there if you haven’t read it, because they express this sentiment much better than I could. You can have favorites, but if you don’t appreciate why Ava is just as important to the story and that you wouldn’t be able to love Deborah in the same way without everything that Ava pulls out of her, you really don’t understand the show at all.

3. This blurb did force me to take a step back and consider that maybe Ava doesn’t get to be fleshed out or centered in the way that Deborah is: even though she’s always talking and always moving and Deborah is the one who plays everything close to the vest, so much of their story is Ava learning about Deborah’s past tragedies, which give Deborah a lot of depth as a character. Deborah has to be willing to share them of course, and Ava does that, but they are still hers and they center her. For example, in New Eyes, yes, Deborah learns about what happened with George, but mostly Ava learns about many of the tragedies of Deborah’s past and how she dealt with them--Deborah is given a lot of dimension that episode, as is the relationship between the two of them, but is Ava as an individual? (I think so, but Devil’s Advocate here). And Tunnel of Love is about Deborah/DJ and Deborah/Marty and while *of course* it’s also about Ava/Deborah, one could argue that it is mostly Ava being oriented towards Deborah--again centering Deborah as Ava is working through her feelings about her--and not necessarily vice versa. But I think this sort of perspective diminishes the things that are most special about Ava’s character: the way she gets in Deborah’s face and forces her to be honest is uniquely Ava and vital to the show and their relationship! On a personal note, irl I tend to be a listener who lets the people I love have the spotlight and wants to help/support them more than taking up much space myself, so maybe I project a little, but I think that role is very valuable and not just anyone can do it. (yes, it’s ironic that Ava is the one who can never stop talking and often seems to take up a lot of space, and I still think she serves primarily as a support for Deborah to have the spotlight). And in this show, no one has done it for Deborah in literal decades? IT IS NOT A SMALL THING! 

4. Not all Zoomers are chaotic and self-involved! Those traits are special to Ava lmao. This critic really shows their prejudices by calling Ava a stereotype when many of her arguably less-attractive characteristics aren’t universal. She may be an a**hole, but she’s an  a**hole because she’s Ava, not because she’s Gen Z.

5. This critic doesn’t come right out and say that Ava is a stereotype because there isn’t enough scaffolding to explain her behavior, but I can’t help but infer that, and while I don’t know how old Doreen St. Félix is, it smacks of ageism to me. Why isn’t it enough to just want to be seen/accepted/appreciated for who you are when your mom never got you? (and nobody else did either) Why can’t that be enough? That is relatable to soooooooooooo many people. Homegirl never had a single real friend before--I hope to god that isn’t the universal Gen Z experience! (full disclosure: I am a geriatric Millenial and am still always very defensive about Ava).

I could say more, but will save you all and cut myself off here. Tagging the person who I ranted to about this last night @queerofdenial in case they have any additional thoughts and also to thank them again for listening to me rant!

[discount-komaru]

Alright let’s talk about Tommy Neg for a hot minute

I don’t want to go into the current hellscape that is ‘tommy neg’ trend on twitter to talk about this so I’m going to discuss it here.

This trend is mind boggling, even infuriating. The thing is, it’s mostly people who don’t know the full context of the video.

I’m watching the video as I make this post and I’m going to comment on things in the video and then get into my qualms with the tommy neg thing trending on twitter

1. This may just be my interpretations of Tommy’s facial expressions but HE DOES NOT LOOK COMFORTABLE BEING IN CALL WITH KSI DURING MULTIPLE SECTIONS OF THE VIDEO. And when he insults KSI I don’t hear the friendly tone in his voice or the joking smile that he has when talking to say Wilbur or Techno. He genuinely looks like he doesn’t want to be there, at certain points, especially at the beginning when he’s only in call with KSI. I might be reading too much into things but he looks so uncomfortable.

2. He did slightly call out KSI during the video. Here’s a direct quote from the video for those of you who only watched the five second twitter clip “Every thirty seconds you make a joke that is just not even a joke and is just blatantly offensive.” To me this doesn’t excuse making an entire video with him knowing the controversies surrounding him, but at least he didn’t go the entire video acting like he didn’t know about the controversies

3. This is just my personal opinion about how KSI was acting in the video but honest to god he is acting like a fucking child.

4. THE FUCKING 5 SECOND CLIP PEOPLE ARE USING IS A JOKE. I’M 90% SURE IT’S A FUCKING JOKE.

Now that I’m done with commenting on the video as I watch it I’ll get into my problems with all the tommy neg stuff trending on twitter

First off, I know that trans people are upset and they have the complete right to be upset. I’m not trying to defend KSI, and I dislike him with a passion. I don’t even have a problem with people holding Tommy accountable. The thing is, most people aren’t trying to hold him accountable. There are a few sentiments I see repeating in the posts. “He’s sixteen, but that’s not an excuse, he should know better”, “He’s trying to be the next Jschlatt”, and “He does know that his fans and dream’s fans overlap right?”

Let’s start with “He’s sixteen, but that’s not an excuse, he should know better.” And while I wholeheartedly agree that someone being young shouldn’t absolve them of guilt in any situation, we need to see that he’s sixteen. He’s still a child. And in my opinion, Tommy doesn’t display the mental maturity that many people claim he has. He is also still developing, still learning. We can’t cancel every kid who makes a mistake, especially when they’re shoved into the lime light at such a young age.

Which leads into my next point “He’s trying to be the next Jschlatt!” Okay, I’ll play devil’s advocate and say he does want to act like these people and “become the next Jschlatt”, it’s because he’s seen these people walk off controversies like it’s nothing. Yes, we attempt to deplatform creators who do bad shit, but they still have an army of people who believe what they say is good or view them through rose colored glasses. Tommy may also be seeing people like Schlatt and KSI through rose colored glasses as he is friends with them. And you know what they say, when you look at red flags through rose colored glasses, they just become flags. Now let’s say that he is “becoming the next Jschlatt” but not on purpose. Well then he’s just adopting toxic traits from friends. I can tell you that I’ve developed both positive and negative traits through friendships (ranging from simple changes in the way I speak and type to a fear that they’ll all abandon me for someone better). Is it Tommy’s fault that he’s friends with these people who have toxic traits? In my opinion, not really. When you’re thrust into the spot Tommy’s in at his age, it’s almost impossible to avoid toxic people.

Now, his comment on ‘dream stans’ that people seem  to be focusing on the most is literally five seconds of the video and a joke. People can’t seem to take a joke if a big /j isn’t added after it (Not trying to bash tone indicators, I use and rely on them myself as someone who has a hard time figuring out the connotations of messages sometimes. All I’m trying to say is that not every joke has to be prefaced with or end with someone telling you it’s a joke.) Plus, the dream stans thing isn’t even relevant to the issue at hand.

Do I think Tommy should be held accountable and be educated on why making a video with KSI was wrong? Yes, absolutely. Trans people and sexual assault victims have the right to be mad at Tommy for that video as I said earlier. Do I think what people are doing is ‘holding him accountable and educating him’? No. The dream stans thing is even starting to seem like a straw-man when there’s a real fucking argument to be made.

Hold Tommy accountable for what he does, but don’t hate on him for things that aren’t even relevant to the real problem. The real problem is that he made a video with KSI. If he didn’t know about the controversies, we can tell him about them. If he did know, he may see how upset his fans got over this and attempt to right his wrong.

I truly think Tommy is a good person and will mature and grow from this. We just can’t tear him down with straw-mans of the real problem.

If anyone wants to have a CIVIL discussion about this I would be happy to have one.

[trashinaglass-archive]

My Dream

A/n: Sorry I’m MIA but I was reading a few fics, and this just really hit me. I’ve never been the kind of person that dreamt of a fairytale wedding, and to be completely honest, I don’t want a wedding. I would love to be married, but I don’t really care to do any of the wedding shit soooo here’s something cute for all my girls (and guys?) that feel the same way.

Sorry if the grammar is stupid. I didn’t do much proof reading lol

Warnings: Sexual reference toward the middlish end??

Family gatherings were pretty much always crazy. Especially with a group such as the Holland family. Brothers that hadn’t seen each other in too long laughing loudly while young kids run around screeching about something the older kids did playing football. Every tried their best to catch up as much as they could in just a few hours, and being the first time you’ve truly meet everyone, it was even crazier.

“So how long have you been dating?” An aunt asked, looking toward you as Tom walked away needing a new drink.

“Four years coming up.”

“Wow,” she says almost under her breath. “That’s great. He’s a very sweet boy. But I’m sure you already know that.”

You smile and laugh, “definitely.” Your eyes look behind her as you find Tom again, noticing he was having a conversation with one of his cousins.

“You think we can expect some wedding invites soon?” someone else asked, mostly joking, but also curious.

“Stop! Knowing them, they would have THE cutest wedding,” her sister chimed in. “I can just imagine the invites, the decorations, the dress.”

You smiled at the excitement she held in her voice. “Yeah, I don’t know about all that,” you laughed awkwardly, noticing Tom walking back. “But he is pretty great.”

A few more hours were spent chatting, eating, and just hanging out before everyone started to disperse. Final goodbyes were said as your party got into the car to go home.

. . .

“So that was fun,” you say as you enter the house, the boys following in behind you. Harry going straight for his bedroom, while you head for the patio outside, Tom making a pit stop in the kitchen. You sat on the couch and take your shoes off right as Tom emerges again, a drink in either hand for the both of you.

“Thanks, gorg.” You took the drink he offered and looked up at Tom as he sat on the opposite side of the small sofa. He looked a little torn, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if it would be out of line. “Penny for your thoughts…” you probed, too nosey to leave it alone.

He looked at you with a small smile for a second before looking down at his drink for a quick second. He sighed, taking a moment of thought and lift his head, answering you.

“At the house, I overheard you and two of the girls talking about a possible wedding, and you said you weren’t sure ‘about all that’.” He took a second to pause before continuing. “And I can’t recall a single time you’ve ever talked about a dream wedding or what you would want yours to look like, and… I don’t know. Do you not want to get married some day?” He finally asked.

You met his eyes, as he asked the question. They were full of confusion and maybe even a little fear. In a way, it made you happy to know he felt this way about you and marriage.

“Yes, I want to get married some day,” you answered straightforward. “But I don’t really want a wedding. I think they’re kinda pointless, if you ask me.”

“Well isn’t the point of a wedding to show your love for each other to everyone?” Tom asked, playing devil’s advocate.

You shrug, “I guess so, but why do I need to spit out thousands of dollars for a ceremony and reception just for me to prove I love you to my friends and family? For one night that, let’s be honest, most of them won’t remember anyway because they’ll be drunk off their asses?”

Tom’s brows furrow in confusion. “So it’s a money thing?”

“No,” you laugh. “Just the sentiment of it all. I mean, when you think about it, a wedding isn’t really for us, it’s for everyone else. And I’d rather do something for us.”

He nodded his head, understanding what you were telling him. It all of a sudden made so much sense to him. “So,” he continued, wanting more of your insight. “If your dream isn’t to have that fairytale princess wedding, what is your dream?”

“My dream would be to just elope, then go on the biggest, most amazingest honeymoon vacation ever.” You tried to hide the smile behind your words, but Tom noticed the excited glint in your eyes.

He reached a hand out, taking yours to pull you closer to him. “And we could go to one of those secluded islands where it’s just us. IT would be so fun, and there wouldn’t be any annoying brothers or intruding paps or fans or anything like that. We wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing except each other.”

You smile and tilt your chin up to meet his lips for a kiss. It was such a beautiful thought. Except the last. “But, I would like to eat every now and then. So we’d have to worry about that.”

Tom breathed out a laugh through his nose. “You can eat this dick,” he says quietly, his voice dropping a few octaves.

“Ew,” you groan as Tom laughed. Standing up from his grasp, you make your way to the kitchen. “I was trying to be all nice and romantic, and you gotta go making it all sexual.”

“I was joking!” he exclaimed and stood up to follow you. He placed his glass in the sink where yours now also sat. “But the offer’s always on the table,” he smirked, grabbing your hand to pull you close to him again.

You roll your eyes playfully, “I’m sure it is.” You lift you hand up to his neck, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, loving kiss. You place your head on his shoulder (I know this is a person specific thing but I’m short and couldn’t think of a generalized equivalent sorry!) and just take in the quiet for a moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. Tom pressed a kiss to the top of your head before placing his chin on the same spot.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” you whisper. Your eyes closed meanwhile Tom’s were wide open, weighing the possibilities.

“What if we did? Tonight, like right now?” He questioned, looking at you as you lift your head in confusion.

“Get married? Right now?” You ask, making sure you had understood him correctly.

Tom nodded his head confidently. “Yeah. We can find an officiant online, Harry and Harrison are here- they can be the witnesses. We could get married right here.”

You look at him with a mix of shock and admiration. “It kinda sounds crazy,” you laugh.

“As if anything else in our relationship isn’t?” He shrugged, making you laugh more. Because it was true.

You take another second, thinking of anything else you may be forgetting. “What about rings?”

Tom raised his eyebrows, pointing to you as he walked away, moving to a cabinet that’s rarely used. “You can also take this as proof that this wasn’t out of nowhere,” he says as his arm reaches up to grab the little box, bringing it to you and opening it. It was a simple silver band with a few small diamonds around it. “You never talked about what you like, and there are about five jillion different styles of engagement rings, so I figure I would get you something like this and then you could pick out whatever extravagant ring you want. And we can get myself one also.”

You couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way to your lips. “So a background yard wedding, in the middle of the night, with some pastor off the internet, in our sweats?”

“I like it,” he replied simply. “But what do you say?”

“I think it’s perfect.”

. . .

This backyard wedding thing is actually based on a true story. Search up Renee Young and Dean Ambrose wedding if you want to read it for yourself. I swear that man is actually my dream man.

[wooyunhwa]

devil’s advocate | yunsan

view pinned post for my masterlist!

Genre: smut

Pairing: demon!san x angel!yunho

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: mostly pwp, idol/idol pairings, oral, fingering, barebacking, biting/blood drinking, kind of infidelity? although no one is actually dating anyone this whole fic is just a mess of love triangles everywhere but keep that in mind 

Synopsis: Yunho summons San for a chat while Y/N is asleep, but he soon discovers that old habits die hard. 

A/N: Here it is, the semi canon yunsan slash fic I’ve been talking about! If you haven’t read my kingdom series some of this may be confusing to you, since the characters and interactions are based on that fic, but the smut can be enjoyed on its own I think! This story happens somewhere in the middle of my fic, while San is still a demon and Yunho is still watching after Y/N. This is canon if you want it to be, and not canon if you don’t! Enjoy~

Y/N had nodded off while studying with her headphones in, as usual. Yunho decided to let her be, not daring to interrupt her sleep by rousing her to take off her headphones or move her to a more comfortable position. She always slept better when listening to something anyway, he noticed. 

Yunho could have left. He could have gone home—he even could have used the opportunity to get a good night’s sleep, take advantage of his human body that was constantly threatening him with the need to dream. It was so unfamiliar to him. 

But as Yunho prepared to leave, a peculiar post-it, pinned precariously above Y/N’s desk, caught his eye. He knew it was San’s calling card, or at least he could guess as much by the Latin scribblings. He froze for a moment, his limbs feeling like lead as his body moved him towards the post-it note. It was a bad idea, he knew it, but his body was pulling him forward before any sense of reason or logic could catch up.

 As an angel, he couldn’t summon San even if he wanted to, calling card or not. But as a temporary human, he was free to do what he wished with San—with a curious loophole. As an angel, even in his human body, he didn’t need a contract with San.

He exited the room quietly, shutting the door gingerly behind him. If he was going to have an opportunity to talk to San alone, now was probably the best—if not only—time he would have to do it. He stood in the middle of the living room facing the kitchen, bringing the post-it note up to recite San’s card carefully. 

“Well this is an unexpected surprise,” San’s voice rang out from behind him. Yunho swiveled on his heels to see San poised neatly on the couch, looking as dark and devilish as ever. He ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it gently as his crimson gaze met Yunho’s. “The human’s place and yet… no human?”

“She’s asleep,” Yunho explained calmly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I thought we could talk.”  

“Talk, hm?” San fiddled his lip ring in his fingers absently, dragging his lip down slightly as he pulled at it. “Hm… Is that liquor I smell on your innocent little angel breath, Yunho?” San asked with a smug smirk, but no question needed to be asked. Yunho smelled unmistakably like the glass of alcohol he’d had with Y/N earlier in the evening—an activity he wasn’t exactly used to yet. Alcohol was useless to an angel, but to his human form, it was liquid gold. 

“I—it doesn’t matter…” Yunho started, heat pooling in his cheeks from San’s call out. He was embarrassed to have even given in to a drink in the first place. It was a bit sinful, as an angel. 

San’s eyes gleamed mischievously as he gazed at Yunho up and down. “Don’t worry, Yunyun. I won’t tell.” He made a zipping motion with his fingers against his lips. 

“Don’t call me that, San. I told you never to call me that again,” Yunho said through gritted teeth. 

“What, are you just going to pretend forever?” San raised himself slowly from the couch, taking a step towards Yunho. “Pretend that we weren’t a thing?”

Yunho rolled his eyes. “A thing? Is that what you want to call it now?” He took a deep breath, collecting himself. San knew exactly which buttons of his to push—he always did. “I didn’t come here to talk about this, you know. I came here to talk about our situation.”

San quirked an eyebrow, eyes glazed over with an emotion Yunho couldn’t quite place. “What if I don’t want to talk?”

“No one said you have to say, San. You know I can’t contract you. You’re free to go if you want,” Yunho said, trying to seem as unbothered as possible. But the truth was, he was completely bothered by the idea of San leaving. Maybe it was the drink slightly rose-coloring his vision, but San looked… incredible. 

He was lean, as always, his proportions immaculate—a statue of a demon, waist cinched in beautifully by a belt, then erupting into a dizzying display of broad shoulders. Yunho wiped his mouth subconsciously, swiping away the drool that had somehow collected at the corners of his lips. His time with San was a distant memory, but one that, at this moment, he desperately wanted to experience again. If only once. 

Something Yunho didn’t know about alcohol—it made him horny. He’d only had one small glass, and yet he felt himself growing harder by the minute, especially when standing right in front of San like this. He wondered if San noticed. Yunho wouldn’t call himself gay, not in the slightest. But he always had a soft spot for San. Maybe that was why, now, he couldn’t do anything but picture San naked underneath him. 

He shook the thoughts from his head, coming back into reality when San took another step forward. Yunho stumbled back slightly. 

“That’s fine. I’d like to stay. Been a while since we got some time to talk alone, wouldn’t you say, Yunyun?” The nickname poured off San’s tongue with so much power, so much conviction. Yunho knew he was toying with him, but a part of him welcomed it. 

“San, I don’t have time for—” 

“For what, hmm? A little alone time with your ex-lover?” San flashed his fangs, and Yunho stumbled back until his back met the cold surface of the kitchen counter. “I have to admit, you look good. It’s too bad you don’t have your pretty little wings.” 

He looked Yunho up and down with his blood-red eyes, gleaming impishly as he noticed Yunho’s nervous disposition. Yunho could barely hide the way he was squirming now, feet shuffling against the floor, not quite sure where to put his hands. He crossed his legs slightly to conceal his boner, but he knew San had already seen it by the look in his eye as his gaze moved downwards. 

“I knew you still had a soft spot for me, Yunho. Or maybe a hard spot…” He took one more step forward, pinning Yunho with his hands, trapping him against the marble countertop. “Feeling flustered by me, angel boy? Cute.”

Yunho scoffed, shoving San off him. “I’m not playing your games, San. I know you.”

San clicked his teeth against his fangs, then drew his tongue across his lip annoyedly. “You’re no fun. I was just playing around.”

As much as Yunho hated to admit it, and how much he knew that San was just toying with him for fun, he had a point. Yunho was completely flustered—San was irresistible to him in every way, especially now. Yunho’s boner throbbed against the crotch of his pants, the discomfort compounding by the second as he watched San’s every move.

“So, were we gonna talk?” San asked, elbow leaning against the counter next to Yunho. “Or are you just gonna keep checking me out?”

 Yunho remembered why he’d originally brought San here—to talk. But he couldn’t quite remember what about, or why, or even think about anything but San looking like that. “I—uh… uh, yeah. Talk. We should do that.”

San let out a cheeky laugh, lips curling up into his familiar smirk, a flash of fangs and charming dimples. “You don’t sound very convinced of that, angel boy.”

Yunho’s eyes trained on San’s lips. He had a one track mind now—and his dick was right with him. He couldn’t believe he was even considering coming on to San like this, in Y/N’s apartment with her sleeping just a wall away. He wasn’t really worried about waking her, since she fell asleep with her headphones in, but it still felt morally wrong. He wasn’t in the mood to think about morals, though, to his surprise—considering he was an angel of the highest moral compass. Or so his coworkers would say. He was never one to break an angel code. Thankfully for him, there was nothing in angel code against human-him kissing his demon ex-lover in his assignment’s apartment. At least, he was pretty sure there wasn’t.

Yunho’s lips came down on San’s before he had even a minute more to rationalize with himself. He pulled his body around San’s, this time pinning him like he’d pinned Yunho minutes before. San moaned in surprise against his mouth, pausing for a minute at Yunho’s sudden initiation before reciprocating the kiss against him. 

San slowly peeled himself away from the kiss. “Mm, I know I was teasing you earlier, but I didn’t expect you to actually kiss me, Yunyun.”

Yunho furrowed his brows. “Do you not… want me to?”

San’s eyes glazed with lust, biting his lip as he drew his gaze up and down Yunho’s face, lingering just a bit too long on his lips. “Of course I’m not gonna say no to a pretty angel boy like you,” he purred, pulling back into Yunho’s lips hungrily. 

Yunho fisted one hand in San’s hair, the other grasped firmly over his bicep, digging in with his nails. San growled low in his throat at the sensation of Yunho’s nails digging deeper, and Yunho pressed harder against San’s chest, pushing his back further against the cold countertop.

“I’ll never get used to the smell of demon,” Yunho muttered through heavy breaths between kisses. 

“You don’t exactly taste heavenly to me either, angel boy. But you’re hot, so I’ll make an exception,” San quipped back, smirking against his lips. 

Yunho’s cock ached in his jeans, and he ground himself up against San as they made out, which, if he was being honest, only made it worse. He wanted San naked, now. But he was also enjoying the pleasure as San’s tongue dipped into his mouth. San’s demon taste, admittedly, wasn’t Yunho’s favorite. But he was too consumed with desire to care—right now he tasted as heavenly as any angel. 

Yunho brought his hand down to palm San’s cock through his pants, noting it was just as hard as his was. San grunted and sighed against his lips, melting like putty in his hands. Something about the way he could reduce San to a moaning mess with just a touch brought a rush of power through Yunho’s head, but San wouldn’t let him keep it. 

San pushed Yunho off of him, guiding him to the couch and shoving him down by his shoulders with two strong hands. Yunho sank into the cushions, eyes widening as San planted himself in Yunho’s lap, straddling him with his legs on either side. Yunho watched as San’s crimson eyes grew dark, lustful as he found his way down on Yunho’s lap. San’s hands threaded through Yunho’s hair, gripping tight as his lips found their way back to the angel’s, more hungrily this time. 

He ground his hips down against Yunho’s throbbing cock, still threatening to burst through his jeans at any moment. San ground mercilessly against him, eating up every needy whine that escaped the angel’s mouth. 

“Angels, so pathetic,” San purred, lingering his fangs over Yunho’s neck threateningly. “Moaning little messes.” 

Yunho couldn’t argue with that—he was a complete mess with San on top of him, giving him just enough to keep him aching for more. “You know, you smell like an angel, but I bet your blood tastes just as good as a human.” 

San’s sharp fangs teeth pressed down slowly against Yunho’s taut flesh, not quite hard enough to pierce the surface tension of his skin. Yunho squirmed underneath him, bucking his hips up against San’s, and he could feel San’s mouth draw up into a satisfied smirk against his neck. 

“Hmm, angel boy? Think your colleagues upstairs would be happy with me littering you with pretty little marks?”

Yunho gulped, and San tightened his grip in Yunho’s hair, yanking his head down harshly against the back of the couch until Yunho was staring at the ceiling. His fangs dragged along the sensitive skin of Yunho’s neck, sending tingles rocketing down his spine. 

“San, you can’t… she’ll see—” 

San sighed disappointedly. “That’s too bad. I was really looking forward to draining you,” he muttered against the angel’s neck, pulling back to make eye contact with Yunho. 

Yunho felt almost like his prey as San’s crimson eyes dissolved slowly to a dangerous, demonic black. He’d fucked San before, but they were angels. It was entirely different then—soft, heavenly, warm. But this. This was cold, dark, and passionate—a sexual experience unlike Yunho had ever had. One he now almost regretted not having sooner. 

Yunho realized he was still fully clothed—a reality he needed to change as soon as physically possible. He pulled his sweater over his head, then started fumbling uncoordinatedly at the buttons of San’s shirt until it was hanging open, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest. San was exactly Yunho’s type, if he had to pick one—lean, but not too muscular, small waist, broad shoulders. In fact, one could say San was Yunho’s only type in men. 

Yunho’s large hands fit perfectly around San’s tiny waist, holding San in place neatly as he ground against Yunho’s crotch. San littered kisses down Yunho’s neck, displaying impressive self control as he carefully dragged his fangs along the surface, not daring to leave marks. Yunho let out shaky moans as San moved down to his collarbone, peppering kisses and nibbles along his shoulders and chest. 

Yunho was so worked up, writhing beneath him in a way that he could hardly control any more. He worried if San so much as touched his cock, he would lose it right there—and he wanted to savor this moment as much as possible. 

San glared up at him with a teasing smirk as he trailed his tongue down Yunho’s abs, sliding down off the couch until he was on his knees, his head level with Yunho’s crotch. He popped the button on Yunho’s jeans, then slowly tugged down the zipper, clearly enjoying the way Yunho writhed in anticipation. 

“What’s the matter, angel boy? Too slow?” San teased, and Yunho sighed in frustration. San traced his fingers over the fabric of Yunho’s underwear, his touch featherlight and heinously gentle. “Tell me what you want,” he purred. 

“Quit torturing me,” Yunho huffed, tilting his head down to glare at San. 

“Be more specific, love. If you want me to suck your cock, just say so. Or are you too innocent, hmm? That’s cute.” San’s smile widened as he teased Yunho, not letting his game up for even a moment. 

Yunho sputtered, choking a bit at San’s forwardness. But he should have known he would be like. “San, I’m not gonna—”

“So you want me to stop then, is that it?” San sat back on his heels defiantly, and Yunho’s eyes widened, brows furrowing. He knew San wasn’t one to let up so easily—that stubborn asshole. 

“No—no… please, San,” Yunho begged, the throbbing of his cock against his underwear nearly making his eyes water.

A smug smirk tugged at San’s lips, satisfaction glimmering in his blood-red irises. “Cute, how you think a simple please is enough. Beg for me, love. I wanna hear it from those innocent little angel lips.” 

Yunho gulped. The only thing he had left was to shove the embarrassment down to get what he wanted—no, what he needed.

“I—I want you to s—” His breath caught in his throat, a huge lump forming as the blood pooled in his cheeks, making his face hot with humiliation. 

“Look at you, so innocent. I don’t recall you being this shy when we were together, Yunyun. Thousands of angel years must have really done a number on you.”

Yunho gritted his teeth, choking out his next words carefully. “I—I want you to suck my cock. Please. Please, San.”

“That’s my angel,” San purred, a grin fully formed on his lips as he sat back up on his knees.

San hooked his fingers in the waistband of Yunho’s jeans, finally tugging them down. Yunho raised his hips off the couch to slide them off, equal parts mortified and aroused by San’s games. He couldn’t deny how bad he wanted it, a fact San knew all too well. San slid Yunho’s underwear off next, his embarrassingly hard cock springing free in front of San’s face. 

“Oh, my. I forgot how big it was.” San raised his eyebrows as he tossed Yunho’s clothes aside, licking his lips as he examined it from base to tip. It was a compliment, but somehow Yunho’s cheeks reddened even further, hot underneath San’s intense, crimson leer. 

San flicked his tongue across the tip, lapping up the droplet of precum with a soft kitten lick. Yunho groaned in the back of his throat at the sensation. It was barely anything, and yet San had him so wound up he was bucking his hips at even the slightest of touches. San snickered at his pathetic response. 

San wrapped his lips around the head, sucking lightly as his hands came to rest on Yunho’s thighs. He gave just enough suction for Yunho to jerk his hips up with a shaky breath. San laughed with his lips still sealed around the head, smug red eyes locked on Yunho’s as he slowly took more into his mouth. 

“Oh, god,” Yunho breathed, tipping his head back against the couch. 

“Using the lord’s name in vain? Bad angel,” San scolded, pulling off Yunho’s cock with a wet pop. San wrapped a hand around the base, jerking it in his fist as he dragged his tongue in circles around the head. “Someone hasn’t been reading his Bible lately.” 

“I don’t want to hear that from you—ah, fuck,” Yunho groaned, cutting himself off as San sank down onto his cock, taking as much as he could into his mouth before it hit the back of his throat. San’s eyelashes fluttered as it became difficult, watery eyes looking up at Yunho as he gagged slightly. 

San looked gorgeous around his cock, much to Yunho’s chagrin. He was the very picture of sin—his soft lips stretched perfectly around Yunho’s thick shaft, teary crimson eyes leering through dark lashes, wisps of hair black as coal falling over his face like raven’s feathers. San looked like heaven and hell all at once, and Yunho couldn’t get enough. 

The mere sight of San on his knees in front of him was nearly enough to push him over the edge, but San pulled away just in time for Yunho to take a few necessary deep breaths to pull himself back to reality. San looked up with a satisfied grin, drawing his tongue over his lip, lingering it over his lip ring playfully. 

He stood up slowly, giving Yunho the perfect view of him as he stripped off his jeans. Yunho widened his eyes as San undid his belt, the veins in San’s forearms bulging slightly as he tugged it off. Yunho’s thoughts grew utterly sinful—completely unfit for an angel—as he imagined the things San could do with that belt. But he tossed it aside to the floor, prioritizing his hard cock bulging from the crotch of his jeans. Yunho’s mouth watered as San slowly stripped his jeans and underwear off, allowing his length completely free now.

San stepped forward, dragging his fingernail along the taut skin of Yunho’s neck, forcing his gaze up to meet his. San surely got a euphoric sense of power having Yunho look up at him rather than down. 

“You know the drill, love. On your knees for me, okay?” San purred, letting his nails dig into Yunho’s chest as he ran them down, leaving angry marks behind. 

San’s eyes widened as Yunho stood up from the couch, closing every inch of space left between them. San’s head tipped up now, meeting Yunho’s as he watched the angel’s eyes darken mischievously—a look entirely unbefitting of him, but enough to make San blush slightly.

“No, San.” Yunho contested, placing his hand on his cheek as San’s crimson eyes grew confused. Yunho, admittedly, wasn’t one to fight against San’s control. He was, as San would put it, a good little angel. 

“No?” San hissed through his teeth. 

“What, you’re not used to your prey defying you?” Yunho asked with a devilish smirk, taking a page straight out of San’s playbook. 

He didn’t know what came over him—he wasn’t usually like this. In his time with San as angels, San was always the one who took control, the one on top. Yunho liked it that way too. He was entirely submissive in nature, which is why now, as he openly defied San’s orders, asserting dominance by looming above him, San’s eyes widened in complete shock.

“You don’t want me to fuck you then, is that it? Angel boy is too innocent, too pure now, hmm?” San asked, but his voice was shakier than before as Yunho towered over him. 

“No, San. I’m going to fuck you this time.”

Yunho had never seen San’s eyes so wide, glimmering with an emotion somewhere between fear and excitement. “I—I’m sorry. You’re going to what?” San sputtered, biting his lip as he met Yunho’s harsh stare. 

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to take my cock?” Yunho teased, running his fingers slowly through San’s hair, sticky with sweat. San’s confusion only compounded in his expression, and honestly, Yunho had no idea where his sudden confidence had come from either. The effects of the alcohol from earlier had worn off by now, and yet he was asserting so much dominance over San now like it was nothing. 

“Who’s the innocent one now, demon boy?” Yunho felt so satisfied as the words dripped off his tongue—he understood San more now, and the pleasure he got with toying around with him so mercilessly. After everything that San put him through, Yunho was going to take back his control. 

San’s voice was shaky as he spoke, but his eyes were narrower now, dark and glazed with lust. “I’ve never seen this side of you, Yunyun,” he said as he helped tug Yunho’s jeans to his ankles. Yunho shook them off his legs, discarding them to the side. “I have to say, it’s kind of hot.” 

San’s hand came down to softly stroke Yunho’s cock, and Yunho let a growl roll low in his throat as San caught him off guard. Yunho’s eyes trained on the demon’s neck as a gulp rolled through San’s throat.

“What?” Yunho probed, forcing San’s chin up again to look him in the eyes. 

“It—uh, you’re big,” San said, his confidence dissolving rapidly as he gauged Yunho’s impressive size with his fingers. 

“Bigger than you’ve taken before?” Yunho asked, stroking San’s hair, which was still tangled neatly between his long fingers.

“I’ve never… uh… I’ve never taken any before,” San admitted quietly, breaking his crimson stare away. Yunho’s eyes widened for a moment, before erupting into uncontrolled laughter. 

“I’m sorry, I’m supposed to believe the almighty San, glorified sex demon, has never been fucked before?” Yunho asked mockingly. His harsh words surprised even himself, but they poured out now with so much raw vigor he wasn’t in a position to stop himself.

“Shut the fuck up, angel boy. You know I like to be the one in control,” San sneered in response. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Yunho cooed, his tone a bit condescending. He wasn’t going to waste his opportunity to play around with San a little. “But no promises.” 

San scoffed. “No need to be gentle with me. I can handle myself.”

Yunho’s lips drew into smirk, bending over until his breath tickled against San’s ear. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

Yunho could see San’s knees buckle slightly under him, making him a bit wobbly as he slipped away for a moment. It was satisfying to see San like this—shaken, visibly working to hide the way Yunho’s uncharacteristically powerful aura was affecting him. 

“I—I’ll be right back,” San muttered, turning on his heels out of Yunho’s large shadow, finding his way into the kitchen.

Yunho sank back down on the couch, waiting as San rummaged through Y/N’s kitchen cabinets before re-emerging with a jar of coconut oil. 

“Coconut oil? How did you—” 

“It’s saved my ass many times,” San responded dryly, prompting Yunho to chuckle at the unexpectedly apt word choice. It would certainly be saving his ass now.

San stifled a visible gulp as he drew to his knees in front of Yunho on the couch once again, dipping his fingers into the coconut oil and working the slick substance all over Yunho’s waiting cock. Yunho let out an uncontained whimper at San’s touch, still all-too-sensitive from the way San had worked him up earlier. 

Yunho’s mind was a mess of lust, his mind consumed with thoughts of only SanSanSan, on his knees, submitting underneath him. He imagined San’s restrained whimpers, his embarrassed whines and moans as he took Yunho fully inside him for the first time. 

San was stroking the angel’s hard length softly, a sight Yunho could have only described as beautiful, perfect, everything he ever needed—and yet his mind was elsewhere. He had a one track mind to take San until he was screaming his name—a pathetic, whiny mess sprawled on the couch. All his thoughts, his feelings, were consumed by a filthy culmination of all of Yunho’s pent up anger and frustration towards the demon he once loved, bubbling within him now all at once. That, and the raw sexual attraction he had for this somehow godly demon—a sinful way for an angel to think of such a horrible creature. 

San’s growingly enthusiastic pumping around Yunho’s shaft snapped him back to attention, making hooded eye contact with the demon’s lustful ruby eyes. Yunho gestured for him to get up, motioning towards his lap, and San obeyed enthiastially, taking a gentle seat against Yunho’s thighs, not once breaking contact of his fingers on the angel’s member. San straddled his lap, his own cock brushing against Yunho’s as he settled in. San bit his lip as Yunho’s hands came to grab his ass, giving it a rough squeeze with his long fingers. 

“A-are you gonna, um—” San stuttered, and Yunho could see his cheeks were flushed a pretty red from their close proximity. 

“Am I gonna…?” Yunho prompted, a smirk blooming on his face at San’s embarrassment. 

San broke his crimson gaze from Yunho’s, ducking his head down. “You know. Um—”

“Aw, are you embarrassed to say you want my fingers inside you? So cute,” Yunho cooed, letting condescension fill his voice as his smirk widened. 

“Shut the fuck up, angel boy,” San growled, heat pooling more heavily in his cheeks as Yunho continued to tease him. 

Yunho snickered in amusement as he reached for the jar, dipping his fingers in to coat them in oil. He brought his hand back to San’s ass, gently trailing a slick finger along his entrance, and he felt San shiver in his lap, letting out a shaky breath. San’s hands snaked around Yunho’s shoulders, burying his head in the crook of his neck to hide his red face. 

Yunho slowly pushed a finger in, his other arm wrapping around San’s waist to keep him steady. San let out an adorable little squeak, and Yunho smiled at his reaction. Yunho pushed it in all the way, sliding down past the knuckle until his hand barred him. Yunho’s cock twitched at how tight he was, even with just one finger inside—he could only imagine how San would feel around him.  

“You good?” Yunho asked softly.

“Yeah,” San breathed against Yunho’s neck. “Keep going.” 

Yunho pulled his hand back, slowly dragging his finger out almost all the way, then gently eased it back in, eating up San’s shaky breaths against his neck, spilling hot air over Yunho’s skin. Yunho began a slow rhythm, gradually increasing the speed of his movements. 

San whimpered beneath him, Yunho’s lips drawing into a satisfied smile as he listened closely to San’s every sound, pleased at the way Yunho had him—very literally—wrapped around his finger. Even as an angel, San was always in control, always one step ahead. It gave Yunho an unmistakable headrush to see the normally cocky demon conceding so easily under him, his heavy breaths and restrained whines falling softly from his lips. 

Yunho brought a second finger to San’s entrance, teasing light circles around the outside.

“Think you can handle another, hmm, demon boy?” Yunho breathed in San’s ear. He wasn’t usually one for condescending nicknames, but if he wanted to keep up with San, he’d have to pull out all the tricks.

He felt San nod yes in the crook of his neck. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes. Fuck you,” San sneered in response, though his actions didn’t match the icy sting of his words. He was a moaning, whiny mess, yet he still tried to play cool. 

Yunho only chuckled in response as San bit his lip to restrain the moans as Yunho slipped the second finger in, bringing it slowly up to pace. As San seemed to relax into the sensations, melting against Yunho’s chest, head still buried in his shoulder, Yunho got creative. He twisted his long fingers inside San’s ass, crooking them slightly to increase the pressure.

“Ah—ah, fuck,” San breathed against his skin.

“Should I stop?” Yunho asked softly, halting his movements teasingly. 

“No—no, fuck—keep going.”

He slowly resumed the movement of his fingers, keeping his pace unpredictable as he felt San shake and clench around him, eating up the moans and whines as San conceded to his movements. A wave of inspiration rushed over him suddenly. 

“Sannie,” he cooed, using a nickname he hadn’t used for the demon in hundreds—if not thousands—of years. “Look at me.” 

Yunho moved his free hand from supporting San’s small waist to his chin, pulling it off his shoulder to making eye contact with him. San struggled to meet his eyes, face still red-hot from the humiliation of his submissive state. 

“Tell me you want me, Sannie,” Yunho purred, eyes trained mischievously on San’s flustered expression. “If you want my cock, you have to ask nicely.” 

He thrusted his fingers up to the knuckle, causing San’s pretty moans to spill over beautifully from his lips. 

“Ah—Yun—ah,” San breathed through his teeth, any composure he had left slowly unraveling in Yunho’s hands. “Fuck—fuck you, I’m not going to beg.”

“Then I guess you don’t want it, is that it?”

“No I—mmf—keep going...” he whined. 

Bad idea. Yunho halted his fingers, causing San to whimper in protest. 

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you want me, or we’re done here, San.” 

Yunho was bluffing. It was obvious how much he wanted it, but he trusted San not to realize that, or care. He’d take the bluff as far as he had to just to watch San beg pathetically for him. But the truth was, Yunho wanted this badly, more badly than he could ever image, his cock throbbing and aching against San’s as they pressed and pushed together against their stomachs. 

“P-please,” San choked out.

Yunho’s fingers traced against the demon’s chin again, forcing his gaze up until the eye-contact was unavoidable. “Please what?”

“Please, I want… your cock,” San continued, voice shaky as Yunho twisted his fingers slowly inside of him. “Fuck me, please…” 

“You’re so cute like this, Sannie,” Yunho praised, lacing his free hand in San’s hair as he slipped his fingers out slowly.

Yunho had prepared to flip him over on his knees, but San had other plans, shifting his weight on Yunho’s lap and hoisting his hips up until his ass lined up with the head of Yunho’s oil-slicked cock.  

“San—you can’t…” Yunho broke his confident facade for a moment, suddenly worried about hurting San from this position. He was effectively taking San’s ass virginity, and Yunho was more well-endowed than most. He could rip him apart if he wasn’t careful. 

“What did I say, angel boy?” San gritted through his teeth, letting gravity take hold as he slowly lowered himself down. “I can handle myself.”

San let out an unrestrained cry as the tip slid in. Even with the generous amount of coconut oil they’d used, it wasn’t an effortless endeavor. Yunho cursed through his moans as he took San’s overwhelming tightness—it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, San’s ass clenching beautifully around him. 

The pleasure only compounded as San took the initiative to sink further down, both their cries harmonizing at the intensity of the sensations. Yunho stayed painfully still, resisting every urge in his body to buck his hips up against San, to push all the way in. He couldn’t. He would destroy him. 

San’s head found its home back in the crook of Yunho’s neck, using the angel’s soft skin to stifle his own noises. San sank lower, only by a centimeter or so, but it was enough for Yunho’s body to react on its own, hips jerking up reactively.

San cried out, and Yunho realized what he’d done, but not before he felt San’s fangs sink into his shoulder, piercing the flesh without a second thought. 

“Fuck, San—I told you not to,” Yunho hissed through his teeth, wincing at the harsh sting of his fangs. 

“Sorry,” San mumbled. “You—I didn’t mean to.”

Yunho knew San was a bad liar, and didn’t take apologies lightly. He was telling the truth.

“I—it’s okay,” Yunho muttered softly. 

San lapped slowly at the wounds, soothing them slightly. Neither of them dared to move from their precarious position, San’s hips still hovering way too far off of Yunho’s thighs to possibly be comfortable. Yunho’s hands snaked around San’s tiny waist, digging his fingernails in as he took in the sensation of San’s tongue sliding over the stinging wound on his shoulder. 

“Maybe we should move to another position… y’know, so you don’t end up draining me like this,” Yunho suggested with a chuckle, and San nodded in agreement, still kitten-licking the fresh wound as more blood trickled out. 

Yunho couldn’t care less about his bleeding for the time being—he was too focused on his dick, which needed to be back in San’s ass immediately. Yunho moved his fingers around to squeeze San’s hips, helping him hoist himself up and slide off. 

San wasted no time repositioning himself on the couch, ass up in the air—an irresistible sight to Yunho, who wanted nothing more than to be buried inside him. But, considering San’s earlier difficulties, he’d have to be more patient than he would have liked. 

He lined himself up with San’s entrance, then dipping his cleaner fingers into the coconut oil, generously slicked his own cock and San’s ass with extra lubricant. San whimpered at the mere touch of Yunho’s fingers against him, cold and slippery with the oil. 

“Tell me what you want, Sannie,” Yunho purred, still riding his dominant high. 

“Fuck off and put your cock in me,” San growled. Yunho chuckled, deciding enough was enough—no more games.

He slid the tip in easily, helped by the generous amount of lube, stroking San’s hair from the back to soothe his whines and moans. He guided himself in deeper with his free hand placed delicately on San’s waist, admiring the difference in size. Yunho was huge, towering—a gentle giant. San was small and fragile, though you’d never guess by his cocky disposition. 

Yunho moved slowly, easing San into it. He knew he was too much for San, especially for his first time—but it didn’t make keeping the control any easier with such a hot demon whimpering and moaning beneath him. 

“Deeper,” San commanded. 

Yunho couldn’t argue with that. His control dissolved at San’s sudden demand. After all, San had instructed him not to be gentle with him. He thrust in, throwing carefulness out the window, and San cried out as Yunho tugged his head back by his hair, exposing his sharp features to Yunho from behind. He picked up a steady rhythm now, slow but vigorous, snaking the hand on San’s hip around to his waiting cock, stroking softly. 

“Fuck—Yunho…” San moaned, all composure he may have had left dissolving under Yunho’s motions, his hand now keeping pace with his thrusts. 

Yunho couldn’t keep it together for much longer, and neither could San, by the ever-increasing sounds of pleasure falling from his lips, begging Yunho not to stop. He wouldn’t have dreamed of it. He gripped San’s waist the hand that was previously entangled in his hair, increasing his rhythm until San was crying his name. He felt his ass clench around his dick as San came, thick streaks of cum painting the couch white. 

Yunho thrust in to the hilt, and San nearly buckled beneath him at the sudden length. Yunho cursed and grunted as he spilled over inside of San, who was still clenching around him, increasing every nerve in his body exponentially. 

San collapsed onto the couch as Yunho slid out, carefully avoiding the cum-stained upholstery. 

“Fuck,” Yunho cursed, realizing what he’d done to the couch. In his lustful frenzy, he hadn’t exactly considered the consequences of his action. “I’ll have to clean that up before she wakes up…”

San managed to smirk through his heavy panting, “It’s a good thing I’m the demon maid. I know where all the cleaning supplies are.”

Yunho rolled his eyes, slipping into the bathroom to clean himself up and bandage up the remaining wound on his shoulder. When he re-emerged, San was dressed, knees visibly wobbly as he scrubbed the cum stain off the couch. 

“What a good little maid,” Yunho teased. “You look cute on your knees like that.”

“You would know,” San jeered back. 

Yunho glanced at Y/N’s coconut oil, making a mental note to replace it for her before she had a chance to use it, though chances were she wouldn't even notice if it disappeared. She wasn’t exactly the “cooking-at-home” type.

“We… we don’t talk about this again,” Yunho said carefully as San removed the last traces of their earlier sinful endeavor. Now that he wasn’t so clouded with blind lust for San, he had a moment to reflect on his terrible choices for the night. Not that he regretted it. Not even a single second.

“Okay, angel boy. Whatever you say. But if you ever want to do it again, you know where to find me,” San responded, flashing his fangs and a cheeky wink. And there was the San he knew. 

The two never ended up talking. San left just as quickly as he’d appeared: without a trace, like he was never even there. It felt like some sort of fever dream as soon as he was gone, although Yunho knew for a fact he had never gone to sleep. He tidied up the rest of the living room, rearranging the pillows on the couch, making sure it looked like San was never there—in fact, he made it look like he’d never left Y/N’s room in the first place. 

Yunho slipped back into the room, carefully turning the knob, and found her exactly as he left her, somehow undisturbed despite how loud they’d been for the past few… well, however long it had been, Yunho supposed. 

Yunho shook all thoughts of San away, only just realizing how exhausted he’d been from the rigorous exercise he’d just partaken in. But as he closed his eyes to sleep, he only saw San, the mental image of him on his knees, glancing up at Yunho through messy strands of raven hair, lips swollen, eyes dark and lustful. 

This was going to be harder than he thought.

[twisted-leader-of-something]

In Idia's defense, he has no idea that the Ferrymen came to pick up the overblotted students, but he seems calm with it as he told Azul to oblige to their request. His parents were the ones who conduct the abduction and now they assigned Idia to be the one to conduct a research to the students while they were gone. Idia has no choice but to accept it, even if he looks a bit evil in the last part.

And to play Devil’s advocate, we don’t know if Idia telling the truth or not. 

- Hades and Idia are known liars - Hades has lied through Hercules, and we’ve seen Idia lie as well, mostly in social situations and some little to no remorse for it, seeming to justify it himself that “It’s okay, really. It’s no big deal, really.” so, why wouldn’t he lie to cover himself and try to get on his kidnapping victims’ good sides?

- Ortho’s Reaction - Ortho was not surprised at all the Charon where in the area, and for the most part, has been quiet. He’s said literally what information needed to help the situation move along smoothly, and not his personal feelings. You’d think it situation like this, he’d be surprised and concerned CHARON are at Night Raven and we’ve seen Ortho respond with surprise, so he clearly can be surprised, and would try to ask CHARON what’s going on, but all we’ve seen Ortho is with a neutral expression on his face and he’s let Idia do the talking.

- Idia’s Reaction - Idia has been rather two faced during this whole deal. He shown that yes, he’s surprised CHARON is but he’s then immediately after he’s fine again, even speaking to CHARON quite calmly despite supposedly being surprised, and even calm Azul down in a situation when Azul reasonably reactions. He also gives the bare amount of information and isn’t even like, “It’s okay Azul, I’ll fix this.” he tells Azul the bare minimum needed to get Azul to cooperate, and then moves on. 

- CHARON Robots withholding information - CHARON is surprisingly leaving Idia in the dark, despite being the ACTING DIRECTOR of the company they work for. Why would they do that? Sure, Azul was standing right there and Idia was in public, but still. If Idia is so high up in the company, why doesn’t he get that information right off the bat, even simplified or coded in some way?

- Parent’s Absence - Idia’s parents are mysteriously absent. And we’ve been given zero explanation why. Idia just says, “Oh, they’re out? Oh okay.” and moves on. That’s it. No attempts to call his parents or ask why they’re out. He just accepts it and moves on.

- Idia’s Position in the Company - Idia is the Acting Director of the Company. Therefore, he is the most powerful person in the company, while something is not present (possibly his parents) so why would Idia not know about his classmate being kidnapped, in broad daylight unless it was that sudden of an event? And why he suddenly be like, TO THE PEOPLE CURRENTLY IN DISSTRESS FROM BEING KIDNAPPED, “Oh yeah, I run this place.” So causally? With no attempts to comfort the group? Sure, it cut off before we see anything else, but still. Why would he say that to those who’ve been kidnapped instead of being like, “It’ll be fine. I got this.” or something like that?

I don’t doubt you Anon or anything about you, as it might be the truth and I’m being nitpicky here, I’m just saying there’s some suspicious parts in Idia’s claim that I think can be easily faked. 

And, there are holes in my arguments, too since we don’t know enough about Idia to say for sure if he’s lying or not. I’m just saying some stuff don’t add up chief. 

[rein-ette]

I'd be interested to hear some of your headcanons on engport. PS: I love your blog, you really have made it very cute and elegant.

Thank you!!! I'm glad you like it :3 I wasn't sure what hcs you were looking for, so I just did a random collection of ones I haven't seen around. If you wanted more of a narrative of their relationship or something, lemme know.

1. I mentioned this hc here, but I really like the idea of Portugal bringing Arthur gifts from all over the world, not in the way someone does to deliberately woo a lover (although as they got older there was a certain undertone of that that they laughed about), but more like the way a cat brings back dead birds and stuff; it’s just cuz they love you and wanna feed you and take care of you and share their precious things with you. Port started doing this when they first met, and originally it was just bringing him a pretty stone or a little wildflower. The one thing Arthur truly yearned for, however, were books. I think Arthur is someone who truly loves learning and intellectual pursuits, but because of his upbringing and work he was never able to go university until the late 1600s.The best ones during the Middle Ages, in any case, were located around the Mediterranean, especially in Italy, as well in the Abbasid Caliphate. So when port started sailing further, he would try to bring Arthur copies of texts such as the Continens Liber, the Canon of Medicine, the Trotula (all medical texts) as well as texts on foreign flora and books like The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices by Islamic scholar Ismail al-Jazari, which featured machine automation! In the 13th century!!! These manuscripts were probably harder to find than most jewels or trinkets and Port had to translate the ones in Arabic for Arthur — and secretly, because the inquisition was like, kinda a thing during this time — but it was worth his delight and absolute adoration. These are all, by the way, real books that existed or eventually made their way to and had a great influence on Europe!

2. I don't know why, but I love the idea of Port having a masters degree in English Literature from Oxford. I think his personality is just suitable: thinks unnecesarily deeply about things, sees symbolism in everything, loves playing devil's advocate. He must have gotten it recently as well, since eng lit wasn't a thing in unis until the mid 1800s and Port and Arthur's relationship didn't normalize until after 1974. Anyways yeah, I think Port did it in part because he genuinely likes english literature, and in part because it was a semi-valid way of getting off work and he could spend a year with Arthur. Plus a hot Portuguese man with an Oxford eng lit degree is like, catnip for Arthur.

3. Also a fruk hc, but: England owns a little house on a hill, overlooking the ocean in Calais, France. He’s had it since he owned the entire port of Calais back in the day and it’s kinda of safe house, a place where he can escape and read books and fiddle with his potions and magic and flowers and just be happy. Only a few people know it exist/have been there, and only Francis has ever been inside, when he spent 2 years recovering there during the latter half of WWII (this is stolen directly from newamsterdam's For the Dust to Still Series, which I am forever obsessed with). Despite it being a “special place” for Arthur and Francis, the front gardens are filled with lavender, which Arthur only started planting and tending to in the 20th century. When they lived there together, during the war, Arthur would sometimes just sit silently amidst the flowers. Francis never commented on it.

4. For a more modern hc, when they go on holiday Arthur and Port like to go surfing (mostly Port), freediving, and sometimes scuba diving — and pls don’t hit me with the “Arthur can’t swim”, mans a Type A personality and control freak, and you’re telling me he’s gonna spend his life on the open sea without knowing how to swim? Nah. And no one can tell me that Port doesn’t want see the fishies on the coral reef any chance he gets either. That’s his habitat. When they don’t have time to go abroad they have aquarium dates like the sappy little losers they are. Port has a membership at the Oceanário de Lisboa, because of course he does. They've also gone wreck diving at least twice -- it unsettles them both a little, because they can easily imagine themselves going down with the ship, as well as the men who must have died too -- but that also seems like the kind of emotional masochism those two idiots would be into.

5. Not a relationship hc, but neither of them are afraid of animals. Arthur dislikes big ass spiders, but isn't petrified. Port has no fear at all. At times this has caused a genuine issues.

[all-yn-oween]

Moceitweek2021- Day 2: Aftermath

Day 2: Aftermath

Summary: Post POF, Patton just needed comfort, and Janus knocked on his door to check on him. (obvious angst, but comfort)

Patton just left Roman’s room.

His cheeks were wet and his eyes had turned mostly red. He still had a lump in his throat, and couldn’t do otherwise. He softly closed the door behind him, a little light-headed.

Roman had yelled at him for an hour straight, before calming down and just staring at the ground in silent. He had shouted him how furious and betrayed he felt, how unfair the situation was, and how they were making a mistake by accepting De- no, Janus.

Patton had tried to play the devil’s advocate and to explain that Janus just wanted Thomas’ good, like all of them. Roman heard, but didn’t listen.

Patton wasn’t offended, the creative side had been taught that there was a determined line between Good and Bad people. And see Janus (a “Dark side”) being accepted and trusted that quickly was unbearable for Roman.

The moral side had been comprehensive, and left him when he had asked him to.

They had cried as well, and it hurt Patton to see one of his kiddos cry that much.

He sighed and walk towards his own room. He saw Logan in the hallway, and he barely glanced at Patton before entering his room. Patton wanted to tell him how much he was sorry, and he deeply regretted how he talked to him earlier. How he had ignored him, whereas he knew that Logan had troubles to get heard.

Patton bit his lips, and gulped as he felt his eyes get teary again. He quickly wiped them as he rushed to his room.

He closed the door behind him, as he felt the usually comforting warmth of his room on his cold skin. He sat against the door and ran his fingers through his hair.

Patton felt like he had done something wrong, and that the only thing that he did was to hurt his kiddos.

He tried to calm down his sobs, but they kept getting worse and worse.

When, after a while, Patton heard a knock on the door.

A little, gentle knock.

He looked up, catching his breath. He stood up, his legs shaking slightly, and cleared his throat. The moral side then opened the door and looked at the side that had knocked.

“It seems like everything’s fine here.” Janus stated, looking at Patton with a concerned face. Patton chuckled lightly, even though it sounded bitter.

“Yeah, it’s really awful..” he mumbled, nodding a little. “Do you wanna come in?” he eventually asked, thinking that Janus may want to talk of something.

Janus hummed in agreement, and entered when Patton moved aside. He then pushed the door a little, and glanced back at Janus.

“I-.. about what happened I…” he started, fiddling with his fingers.

“I understand.” Janus stopped him. “It’s difficult for you. For all of us. I wanted to apologize to Roman for what I’ve said. Remus had rightly pointed out that it wasn’t the best thing to say. However I doubt that he wants to see me.”

Patton shook his head a little, sniffing.

“No, I don’t think so neither… Roman is a little mad at us..” he softened the truth and Janus seemed to notice it since he frowned a little.

“He is absolutely furious, am I right?” Patton nodded silently.

“Yeah.. He will calm down eventually.. Virgil will maybe have the right words, and things will be okay.” he replied, as he sat on his bed. Janus snorted at that comment.“Logan’s very angry as well, I think he hates me. An apology won’t be enough…”

Janus sighed and walked towards his bed, to sit next to Patton.

“Mistakes happen.” Patton huffed a little.

“Mistakes happen but mistakes keep happening.”

“People can get better, I think Logan is smart enough to know that.” Janus added, putting a hand on Patton’s shoulder.

The touch was so gentle and comforting, Patton couldn’t help but lean into it.

“I hope so… I ignored him a lot, I’ll completely understand if he’ll hold a grudge against me..”

“I’m sure he won’t. As long as you try to be better after your apology, everything will be fine.” Janus explained as he stroked his shoulder with his thumb.

Patton nodded in agreement. “I will. I promise I will. I want to be a better person.”

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Things take time.”

Patton looked up at Janus and pulled him into a warm embrace. He buried his face into the crook of Janus’ neck and sniffed.

Janus softly hugged back, and rubbed his back. He genuinely felt worried for Patton, he wanted to reassure him as much as he possibly could.

“And you? How are you?” Patton asked him, after staying silent for some minutes. Janus looked down at him, smiling a little.

“Maybe better than you all. It’s not that negative for me, I have been accepted and it feels nice. However I know that it wasn’t inconsequential. That is why I wanted to check on you first. I know that it was difficult for you to trust me.”

Patton hummed a little in agreement, and pulled him closer. He needed comfort, and Janus was good at providing some.

“It wasn’t a good moment, yeah.. But I know you only want Thomas’ well being, like all of us.. It may take time for the others to notice it, but I truly think that Thomas needs you. He needs you in his life, because you are here to make sure he takes care of himself. You embody a lot more than Deceit, just like I embody more than just Thomas’ morality..” Patton told him, as he looked at Janus with a compassionate smile.

Janus smiled back, genuinely feeling touched by what Patton just said.

“Thank you Patton. I do appreciate it.” he replied with a soft voice.

“Of course. Roman may be the one to take time to accept it, but he will with Virgil’s help. Virgil knows what you’ve been through to be accepted..” Janus chuckled a little at that, again. Patton noticed it, and looked at him with a confused glance.

“I apologize, I wasn’t mocking you. It’s just that Virgil doesn’t really appreciate me, I think we can say that he hates me as much as Roman hates me.” Patton looked surprised at this.

“Really? Why?” he asked.

“Some things that happened at the Dark Sides.” Janus replied simply. Patton nodded, Janus may not want to talk about it right now.

“Okay.. Anyway, they will accept you one day.. I know my kiddos, I know they will.”

There was a calm silence between them, before Patton smiled softly.

“You give good hugs..” he stated. It was true, Janus’ hugs were warm and he could fall asleep at any given moment. He didn’t even realize that he had stopped sobbing.

“Thank you. Years of training. Remus is very clingy.” Patton chuckled.

“Roman is too. Does Virgil hug you?” he asked, wanting to know how it was to live with Virgil at the Dark Sides.

Janus shook his head no. “He never touched me, as a child, I think he was scared by my scales. He then started to despise me. He never touched Remus neither.” he explained with a shrug.

“They’re beautiful.” Patton said, without realizing that he did.

“… Remus and Virgil?”

“Your scales.” The moral side replied, with a soft almost loving (according to Janus) smile.

He stayed silent for a second, waiting for something that could tell him that Patton had lied, before smiling back.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Patton buried his face again into Janus’ neck. “So.. Virgil never hugged you?”

“Never.”

“Oh..”

“Oh?” Janus repeated, a little confused by his reaction.

“He did hug me once.” Patton explained. “He then told me to never say it in front of the others, because he didn’t want Roman to tease him. I think Roman knows that he likes hugs now though.” he shrugged a little.

“How about Logan?” Janus asked, curious, but mostly mesmerized by Patton’s calm voice.

“Logan isn’t really fond of touch. He is the one who tell us that hugs are important to spend a good day, but he never hugged someone. I hug him at least once a day, but he pulled away after one or two minutes. His hugs are nice though.” Patton replied.

“It’s funny how you can tell who gives the best hugs.” Janus noticed with a small chuckle.

“I never tried to hug Remus..”

“Oh, I can assure you that he will try to hug you one day. He always tried to hug Roman or Virgil. From what he had told me after trying, Roman started screaming and Virgil just pushed him away.”

“I don’t know why but I’m not surprised..” Patton chuckled lightly.

“I can tell you’re not.” Janus replied with a smile while caressing his hair.

Patton hummed in content and stayed in his embrace, leaning into his hand.

“Can you stay here?”

“Of course not.” Janus lied.

“Is that a lie?”

“Yes.” Patton smiled softly.

He felt better to know that Janus was going to stay. His company reassured him a lot. Both of their heart had fluttered, but none of them decided to say something about it. They just stayed in this warm embrace, listening to each other’s calm breath.

--

Welp, it was nice to write that! I promise the next one would be a little happier though :) Thank you so much for all the feedback I've got for the previous day !

[teddybasmanov]

I bring to you comrades two d(a)emon song takes – one very basic and one a little less.

First take – very basic:

I’m going to play devil’s advocate here a little. Let’s suppose that Vega wasn’t always such a sick psycho and something (not one big something necessarily, maybe a lot of little somethings) must have messed him up. Then he did what he did and got locked up (for good). Now the demon listener from the department is working with him (on him?). Let’s suppose they get closer and Vega starts feeling that weird emotion towards the inchoate. It’s called trust, you cold-hearted idiot.

Second take – a little less basic:

Somebody, please comfort Cam. Please. I’ve got a song which originally was about my stupid teenage drama freshman year of high school, then it was about how afraid I was of “The Cost” and then the aftermath of “The Cost” happened and it (especially the last part) fits out poor serenity daemon pretty well.

The Songs with my commentaries are below the cut (it’s long).

First take:

Now Billie Eilish’s “Bury a Friend” fits perfectly (here should be a rant about how it’s literally the only song of hers I know and that I only know it because of a “Steven Universe” animatic and that I have an odd need to justify knowing pop songs):

[Chorus]

What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me?

What are you wondering? What do you know?

Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me?

When we all fall asleep, where do we go?

This is fairly obvious – the listener is not scared of him and unexpectedly cares about him and he isn’t sure what do they actually want from him and how much do they know about him (and probably if they’re falling for his manipulations).

Come here

Say it, spit it out, what is it exactly

You're payin'? Is the amount cleanin' you out? Am I satisfactory?

Again the fact that he can’t guess what they want from him and what’s their game drives him crazy.

Today, I'm thinkin' about the things that are deadly

The way I'm drinkin' you down

Like I wanna drown, like I wanna end me

At some point he might just say “Screw it!” and trust the listener completely even if just for one talk (session?) just to know how it feels to turn the manipulation off. 

Step on the glass, staple your tongue

This unexpectedly calls up a line from the other song I’m going to talk about – step on the glass if its contents are already drunk and you don’t need it anymore. That and the whole “bury a friend” thing might be referring to the something that messed him up.

Bury a friend, try to wake up

Cannibal class, killing the son

Bury a friend, I wanna end me

[Chorus]

Listen

Keep you in the dark, what had you expected?

Me to make you my art and make you a star

And get you connected?

He still mostly tries to manipulate the listener and gaslights them when they try to remind him that he was starting to act more openly.

I'll meet you in the park, I'll be calm and collected

But we knew right from the start that you'd fall apart

'Cause I'm too expensive

He mocks them a lot and tells them he’s definitely too complicated for them and he’s going to break them eventually.

It's probably somethin' that shouldn't be said out loud

Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now (Wow)

Calling security, keepin' my head held down

Bury the hatchet or bury a friend right now

The listener might snap at some point too and, you know, use the fact that they are actually with the department and that Vega is actually a prisoner.

The debt I owe, gotta sell my soul

'Cause I can't say no, no, I can't say no

Then my limbs all froze and my eyes won't close

And I can't say no, I can't say no

Careful

Hi there, paralysis! And maybe, hi there, another reference to something that messed him up. Yes, I know, it’s a cliché that the abused uses the same behaviour as the abuser but I’ve warned you that it’s basic.

[Stuff just repeats again]

Second take:

It’s “Songs of the Unloved” by “Aquarium” (translation mine):

Songs of the unloved.

Songs of the thrown away

Buried without a name.

Immured in the night

Songs of the scratched out from the lists.

Songs of the thrown onto the ice.

The song of the no longer needed

Sounds, does not stop.

He feels useless because he has to bring serenity but he can’t because of the stuff going through his head. He probably also feels used and disposed of.

We have a good school -

Light up from burning snakes;

Rip out your own heart

To become even angrier.

Keep the head underwater

Do not let to inhale;

And break off the blade after the hit

Because God is with us.

Pain and indifference make good people cruel.

Step on the glass

If it was drunk;

Head in a noose

And out with belongings.

Lord open up to me

The Mystery of Being;

Look into my eyes

And say that this is Your will.

Again. The same thing – destroyed when becomes useless. The whole song is basically about the same thing. And it hurts.

You can wait a long time for the sun

Looking with blind eyes at the zenith;

We had a crystal bell inside.

It has been stepped on; it doesn’t ring anymore.

Oh my god, do I even need to say something here? Thinking about this line makes me cry.

This music is older than the world;

It is ridiculous and funny;

But I will dance to it

Even if it is not audible.

 For an affectionate soul -

An iron dress.

With blood on the sand -

‘All people are brothers’.

I don’t need anymore Your

Mysteries of Being.

Just look into my eyes

And say that this is Your will.

All the soft and caring people get ruined by this world. It hurts so much that I don’t want to know why. I just need to know that somebody knows.

 I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so gloomy but the last Camelopardalis audio and this song both are just so dark and hopeless.

If anybody wants to write a songfic (or two) – be my guest, I’ll probably never get to.