#is this longer than the color of the sky post?

[dorian-they-ao3]

hey my fellow tumblr olds, tumblr added a dash preference for this a bit ago (which might be part of why a lot of newbies don’t know what a read more is bc they may not see many/any)

go to account > general settings > dashboard preferences and toggle on “shorten long posts”

works just like a read more except it applies to ALL posts that are longer than like a full phone screen. makes your dash infinitely more scrollable and doesn’t depend on other people knowing about features/tumblr culture (and prevents people from being intentionally annoying like with color of the sky).

Look I don't wanna bitch but if your Tumblr fic takes longer to scroll past than the Do You Love The Colour Of The Sky post then it would be kinda appreciated if you put the majority of it under a Read More button

[moldwood]

i've had a bluesky for probably a year or so but have never ever used it because i don't have the energy or time for more than one social media. until tumblr dies i'll be here 99% of the time, but art may start to be posted over there at least. all that is to say i logged in to make sure i still had the urls and saw this on the homepage feed whatever

I CANNOT IMAGINE THE WORLD TWITTER USERS HAVE BEEN LIVING IN WHERE THIS IS MINDBLOWING. COULD YOU IMAGINE NOT BEING ABLE TO edit:im adding a read more for the people on mobile. don't click it. it's just to prove a point about the ridiculous number of characters you can have in a tumblr post

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

At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything?

We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow.

Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal… - Is it still available?

Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler.

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

Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don't we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow… the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This… Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that… …kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement?

I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you… I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway… Oan I… …get you something?

Like what? I don't know. I mean… I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look… There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you…? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then… I guess I'll see you around.

Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again… for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but… Anyway… This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well… - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's… human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that?

They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up… Sit down! …really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering.

A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah.

What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Oarl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? 

Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung.

Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, Olassy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week… He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots… Next week… Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. - Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?!

You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting… - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively?

A privilege. Mr. Benson… you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you.

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

Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You're bluffing. - Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night… My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it.

Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers… Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute… Are you her little… …bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but… - So those aren't your real parents!

Oh, Barry… - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can't feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I… I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all… All adrenaline and then… and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking.

That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about… Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man?

What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames… But it's just a prance-about stage name! …unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Oan't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Oannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? 

They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now… Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course… The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I'll sting you, you step on me.

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

You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species… What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory… That's Barry! …is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane.

I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small… Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Oome on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. - What? - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac?

Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that?

It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

[queer-ship-tournament]

vote for pynch

support and propaganda:

[dragulotte]

I am mailing a horse head to the next person that puts the "scooby doo taught us humans are the real monsters" on my dash again

[lebanesetoaster]

Anyone who wants to do this, please join in!

GUYS I JUST FOUND THE CUTEST THING EVERRRR

what's your cozy cabin drink?

TAGGING SOME PEOPLE BC THIS IS SO CUTE

@toooster @glxsyymads @theodditylacey @junefl0wers @auntiejohn @stranger-detective @justafanbutcurious @daystarpoet @your-mommy-ems + anyone elseeeee

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors. 

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips. 

“I know.” 

… 

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes. 

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog. 

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch. 

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated. 

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big. 

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length. 

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock. 

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find. 

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on. 

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you. 

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy. 

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you. 

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair. 

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you. 

“Miguel?”

“Mm?” 

“You better get me a suit like yours.” 

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?” 

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

[localvigilante]

Knights and Princesses (Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader)

One of the younger students at the school asks you and some other X-men to play a game of pretend. And a certain blue elf takes it as a chance to be a charming little dork. (shameless Kurt x Reader fluff w Scott and an unnamed x-baby making an appearance)

A.N. So, this was actually written many, many years ago on an old blog of mine but I've been wanting to write some Kurt stuff again, so I decided to dust it off, revise it, and post it here. Hope you enjoy!

The reader is called "princess" and is described as wearing a dress, but no other descriptors are present.

Kids were something else, you muse as you smooth out the creases in your elaborate outfit, particularly the children at Xavier’s school. You liked kids but one little tot had taken a great liking to you, she was about six and was always roping you into playing pretend with her. You didn’t mind, after all, who could say no to an excuse to act like a kid again? And if these little games between your harrowing missions made you and the girl smile, who were you to say no?

But, as you stand at the top of the main staircase, dressed in a pink, lacy princess dress, you wonder if you had to invest in proper costumes for the sessions of make-believe.

The dress was too small for you, the skirt not even going to your knees, and you had to leave the back unzipped just to fit in it; but it made the little one happy to see you oblige her wanting to play “Knights and Princesses” by playing the latter. You had naturally wanted to be the knight with her, but that role had been given to none other than…

“Oh Princess of Xavier castle, we are here to rescue you!” called a dramatic and accented voice from the bottom of the stairs. You watched as Kurt and the little one leaped from the shadows, both donning knightly costumes and plastic swords.

That was your cue, you step out and place your hand on the banister at the top of the grand staircase. “Oh my brave knights!” you cried in a wavering, simpering tone. Hey, if you were stuck as the princess, might as well have some fun, right? “Please, you must run and save yourselves!”

“Knight’s never run!” the girl shouted with pride, puffing out her chest.

“What she said!” Kurt confirmed.

“But, my heroes, you don’t understand! There’s a fearsome dragon- and he’ll surely destroy both of you!” You paused, but nothing happened. “I said.” you repeated, far more sharp this time, “He’s sure. To destroy. Both of you!”

“Rawer.” came a flat voice from the other side of the stairs.

Scott came out into the open, dressed in a cardboard and crayon-colored attempt at a dragon’s costume you and the mini knight had made to fit him. He had wanted to be a knight too, but folded like a cheap suit the moment the girl gave him the Big Sad Eyes and asked him to be their dragon.

Surprisingly, despite his flat tone, he wasn't doing too bad.

"Who dares enter my castle!" he said, ending with a much better roar than his first.

The little girl yelled dramatically “The Knights of the X Table, that's who! Now get back, you nasty beast! You won’t terrorize the princess any longer!”

" 'Nasty'? Well, that's a little uncalled f- AH!" Scott's mumbling was cut off as the tiny knight charged, swinging her sword wildly.

“Sir Kurt, you get the princess to safety, I’ll deal with the creature!” She called back as Scott the dragon let out another yell and ran for the next room.

Kurt looked up at you with a wink, “My pleasure!” and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

He reappeared next to you, that wicked grin displayed brilliantly on his face. His tail gripped the back of your dress and pulled, effectively causing you to spin into his arms. You couldn’t help the heat rising in your cheeks as his face neared yours.

“Are you ready, meine Prinzessin?” he asked in a low, almost intimate tone. But before you had time to reply with anything but flustered mumbles, he pointed his sword at the sky and yelled “Fear not, your Highness, for I shall throw you to safety!”

That got your attention “Wait ‘throw’!?”

Before you could free yourself of the elf, he lifted you into his arms and the gesture would have been romantic, if he had not immediately tossed you over the banister.

You only had time to scream something along the lines of ‘I’ll run you through with that plastic sword, Wagner’ before you were engulfed in black and purple smoke. Next thing you knew, Kurt was crouching on the ground floor holding you closely…and barely concealing his teasing chuckles!

“Come now, Liebling, did you really think I would let you get hurt?” He asked, obviously still amused at how shocked your face was.

“You could have warned me,” you crossed your arms, but even you knew all he had to do was smile to be forgiven.

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes, but then the voice of Kurt’s fellow knight in cardboard armor came from the other room. “Sir Kurt, have you gotten the princess yet!?”

“Oh, my dear knight, thank you for freeing me from that awful tower!” you cried, falling back into character easily and making sure the little one heard you.

“Of course, my fair damsel,” Kurt replied in that theatrical voice, but then “anything for you,” he added in that same low tone he used before. “You know, usually the prince gets a kiss in reward when saving a damsel in distress.”

“Is that so?” You ran your hands up his chest and leaned in so your lips were just a breath apart. “Well, my prince…” you swore you heard him draw in a breath and hold it, anticipation simmering- right before you snatched the plastic sword from his hand and jumped to your feet. “You'll have to get your kiss after we defeat the dragon!”

The look on his face was priceless as you winked at him and turned towards the next room. You brandished the sword proudly and charged towards the mini knight and Scott the dragon, yelling like a Shakespearian actor about how the beast’s days were numbered.

You didn’t see the look of complete adoration etched on Kurt’s face as he watched you, tail swaying dreamily behind him. After allowing himself a smitten sigh, he stood straight and pulled a second plastic sword from his belt.

"Wait for me!"

...

Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[cuntyji]

hello i'm sad because i reread angel's ( @deathofacupid ) smau this is the [cover of the] song that ib'd this post <3

there used to be humming in the household when you were around.

not a song, not even a tune most of the time—just the idle, thoughtless hum of someone who belonged there. it was in the mornings when you brewed tea, steam curling into the air, the scent of sugar and warmth lingering even after the cup was drained. it was at night, barely a whisper against the silence, like a sound you didn’t even realize you were making.

sukuna used to grumble about it, used to throw a lazy glare your way from where he lounged, arms crossed. fucking annoying. he’d say it like it was just a fact. like it was the weather, or the color of the sky.

you would hum a little louder after that. just enough to taunt, to challenge, to let him know you heard him but didn’t care. then you’d soften again, slipping back into your own little world, as if your very presence resonated through sound.

but now there was nothing.

no hum in the mornings. no hum as you poured tea, because there was no second cup anymore. no hum in the evenings, in the quiet spaces that used to be filled by something so small, so insignificant—until it was gone.

he noticed the silence before he noticed the absence. the sheets were colder than they should have been, but that was only a delayed realization. the space beside him in bed was empty, but his first thought had been about the quiet. it was too still, too hollow.

he caught himself waiting, once. waiting for the moment you’d step into the room, waiting for the sound of you. a hum, a breath, anything.

it didn’t come. it wouldn’t.

sukuna scoffed at himself, at the foolishness of it all. as if he cared. as if it mattered.

but the silence remained. the kind that sat heavy in the air, the kind that followed him through the house, curling around his thoughts like an unwanted presence. a ghost of something that should be here but wasn’t.

his jaw clenched. his fingers curled into his palm. pathetic.

someone else would be hearing your humming now.

someone else would wake up to the sound of you existing in that small, quiet way—your voice pressed into the spaces between thoughts, filling them without even trying.

someone else.

sukuna exhaled through his nose, sharp and short, like he could chase the thought away.

he picked up his tea, but it was too bitter.

you still hummed. not in front of anyone—not in front of another.

it had been his privilege, whether he knew it or not. whether he deserved it or not.

now, the sound belonged only to the empty spaces around you, slipping through the cracks of a world that no longer held him beside you. you hummed when no one was around, when silence pressed too heavy against your ribs, when it felt like the only thing keeping you tethered to something that once was.

you had never been superstitious, never believed in things like fate or unseen forces that carried whispers across distances. but sometimes, when the sky stretched wide and endless above you, you’d tilt your head, hum soft and slow, and wonder—could the wind carry it to him?

what a foolish thought. the wind did not know you. did not owe you anything. but it didn’t stop you from trying.

“pathetic.” sukuna’s voice had always curled around that word like he enjoyed the weight of it, letting it roll off his tongue with something between amusement and contempt. you could almost hear it now, spoken into the empty air, sharp as ever.

he’d hate this—knowing that, even now, your voice still reached for him in ways he never reached for you.

but you had always been foolish, hadn’t you? humming under your breath like it meant something. like it ever could.

so you kept humming, just a little softer this time, as if it made any difference at all.

[musing-and-music]

There he go

gummy lamas

[macarthurpark]

People (?) of Keen Minds

yes I wrote this in like an hour cus I was tired of the lack of black readers with all these remmick fics— and YES there will be more if yall want it.

reader is 18, BLACK, unapologetically anti religion, and all the more hungry for something different than just chores and church. Hopefully you are as well.

—

mama always warned you not to head into the woods after dusk.

Nothing ever stands for your people outside past night but trouble and the devil.

The moon’s time was intended for helping cook dinner,

Putting the younger babies to bed with dreams of nothing but singing doves and cleaner gowns for school,

Praying that any enemy, covered in their cloaks or proudly in their pale skin, was kept at bay for another evening more.

A quiet night always was meant for peace.

but you was always too damn smart to understand what that meant for a community— but not what it could mean for the self.

For the soul.

For the spirit.

They called you “Gator”— granted by your elder brother, the word short of “instigating-ass lil’girl,” a nickname that stuck like honey because all you did in church was complain.

You could outsing the entire choir but god help the preacher if he made a comment on the behalf of a woman and used the scripture as excuses.

This time, he’d began wailing and claiming that our human souls “wasn’t worthy against the glory of Jesus’ sacrifices—“ and you couldn’t never help acting up. Today was no different.

Instigating ass girl.

Now you’re walking around the nearby trees with an ass that smarts post-whooping underneath your skirt.

Could they kick a colored girl out of the state for running her mouth too damn much? Maybe you did speak the truth. Maybe But people worked too hard in Mississippi’s sun to be wanting to hear that all the time.

It was contemplation that was dancing through your mind. You loved singing god’s word. You loved god. You loved everything he’d done for you and your family. But what sense would it make to follow a God that kept you more bound and timid than freed when it seemed shameful to sing elsewhere outside those four walls?

Your daddy would beat you blind if you showed up to the juke joint that the twins were said to be hosting. You can’t even bring yourself to say Smoke and Stack’s name to the empty warm air— those two were sacrilege to everything this side of Clarksdale stood for. They’d killed their own daddy and became gangsters, and that was the very freedom that even the babies knew how to shun.

A smile pulls onto your face when one of the last times you’d caught sight of them both rings through your head— Stack lighting Smoke’s cigarette, the boys leaning against the shade of an old house while they took a break from work, but that time you really watched how the latter inhaled that cigarette.

He pulled, and the thing burned an angry orange— it was gods graces rolled up in pretty white paper and cleansed away. But the serene smile that followed on his brown lips left you hungry. Not for him— you’d be damned if you’d have to fight the hoodoo lady you knew he belonged to— but for the peace in his shoulders.

The ease in his gait. The lack of guilt in his eyes. His freedom.

Would you run away to the north as well to find it?

That question wake you up from your own greedy trance. The sun was no longer shining on your brown skin, and the heat became a thick and unignorable force when dark drew over the sky.

You were alone past dusk. You’d have started running if you couldn’t hear the conversation of your community from afar. With your bare feet tredding the dirt and grass, you ignore the occasional sting of a bug, humming to yourself an old hymn— Great is Thy Faithfullness.

You’d heard the song probably longer than you knew how to speak or walk, and the tune played down your tongue like the juice that dripped from a berry if you squeezed hard enough.

It beheld the very message you often disdained behind your eyes, but it’d become second nature in rising your spirits.

Strength for today, and bright hope for tomorrow— even god couldn’t take that from you just because you didn’t want to follow him down to the letter. The sun shined for everybody, for the white man with all his unclaimed children that work in the fields, for the husbands who beat their wives just as bad.

It’d shine for you until you found a way out of here. Maybe you’d sing, or maybe you’d finally read more, because god knows a book was like gold whenever you’d find a new one. Maybe you’d become some grand teacher. The future was cruel because it always held the best parts of yourself just out of your sights.

Just as you broke into your favorite part, the lights of town were visible just a few feet away— “strength for today, and bright hope for—“

“—Tomorrow…”

The wrong voice filled your ears— it wasn’t your own, it wasn’t one of the boys around town that tried to get at you. This voice was grown. Aged and smooth.

Unrecognizable.

Yeah. That’s what made you break into a sudden sprint. Maybe an idiot would have paused to look back, but nothing was worth watching at this point in the bleak night besides the stars. Lord knows you could see them motherfuckers from home, too.

Fuck the dress flowing and rising with your thighs each time you ran on uneven ground, fuck any expected propriety, for you’d be damned to get caught by the clan on one of your little hissy fits!

“Awe… here I’m thinking we were going to harmonize perfectly together.”

The wind had gotten knocked out of your lungs, a swift palm that slammed into your chest and forced you onto your back, and tears fell down your cheeks like second nature. When did this perpetrator have the time to get in front of you, when home was all you’d seen?

Maybe they’d just play with you a bit. You knew how to play games— at least, that was the term the ladies in town used when one of them popped out a baby with blue eyes and thin hair— and you knew when to shut up all the better. You’d survive this even if it meant being changed in some ways.

It was a white man who’d knocked you down like nothing. Of course it was. Intrigued hazel eyes looked down at your pained visage, for you’d curl into yourself and writhe and whine if his hand didn’t keep you still, and a toothy smile fills his face till he realizes you’re giving him nothing more than a whimpered frown.

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry, darlin’… you alright?”

That warm hand slipped from your chest and danced down your arm till it was gripping your own and coaxing you to your feet— and like the sweetest fawn you could be, you took it and rose slowly. You must’ve nodded too, because he seemed to have answered the question himself.

Your white nightgown was now covered in dirt, and the man gave such a feigned frown as he tried wiping off what he could.

“Woulda had no need to dirty this thing up, if you’d been more friendly than that.”

“Sir, you ain’t gotta hurt me, I swear—“

He looked at you as if you’d been the one stalking him through the forest, like you were crazy for trying to make some deal with him.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have hurt you already. Do I look like some animal to you?”

And it pisses you off more to see such a man play dumb with that thick of a southern accent, for he even rests that same hand over his heart in offense.

So you try again. Your own face frowns up with confusion, but you exaggerate a bit more this time.

“… What other damn reason could there be for you knocking me down?”

“You started running, babydoll.”

“So you knock a woman down to the floor?”

“Y’aint gotta start arguing with a gentleman, now. Maybe let’s start over.”

Mother fucker ain’t even apologize.

But what choice do you have? Having completely ignored your question, that smile comes back to his face… and damn it if you didn’t start sweating more.

“My name is Remmick. And by the angels, you, babydoll, have only attracted such a beast alike myself because of that voice you got. I don’t mean no harm.”

His eyes shift in a way from that odd chivalry into something with such apologetic intent that forces your racing heart to trust him. Still, you keep an eye out for any more of his type to slip out from behind the trees. He’s more respectful than your own daddy… but something isn’t making sense.

“Your ugly lil clan brothers set you up to this?”

This time, it actually hurts his feelings to watch you step away and ignore his offered hand.

“I guess I can’t fault you, babydoll. We all bleed the same, why don’t that make us equal?”

“You asking the girl with the wrong color that.”

He chuckles. It eases your defense— especially since he allows you a step back without growing tense.

“I must be. I promise, hand to god, Ain’t no foul play over here. Just wanna hear more of that voice.”

Your heart throbs in an odd way. Your arms had wrapped tight around yourself, and you only squeeze tighter with an odd temper— there was no good, intermingling with a white man.

But he’d been the first one to ever humor you instead of chastise your sharp wit.

Maybe that’s how he gets you to walk deeper into the forest once more— there’s an off twang to his accent, like he’d not been born to the south but raised in it nevertheless, but Remmick swears to you his mama beat the red and blue into him since he could walk— “cus’ the white was already there, as you can see.”

He was a funny cracker. He also shared your opinions on many things— and as he spoke, you were able to actually look at the man.

Slick brown hair, a simple cream shirt and mostly clean trousers. Maybe he was an academic. He’d asked your name and you’d refused him twice— and now you found your place at the original designation you’d been seeking. A familiar perch next to the closest river, a wood stump next to the flowing water you’d sat before in the past and undid your braids at whilst you’d hum.

“Careful, babydoll. Don’t want you to fall.”

“Stop calling me babydoll, and I know this river better than you do.”

That toothy smile filled his lips again. Was it admiration this time in his eyes? Or was it just satiation at a plot falling into his hands?

“I can’t call you babydoll, can’t call you sweetheart, I’m about to just call you ‘pretty lil girl in a dirty lil dress’.”

That drawl had tickled you down somewhere that you wouldn’t name, not if you could help it. You turned sharply to the man who’d sat aside you, and he didn’t even flinch.

After a hard stare, you couldn’t hide away the smirk that had bubbled in your chest. You couldn’t even remember the fact that he’d slammed you to the ground at your first meeting— not when he knew more of a world outside of this damned town.

“Gator. Call me gator.”

“They must call you gator cus you bite.”

You giggle again—funny bastard— a sweet chitter that makes the hair on his neck tickle. He can nearly taste the golden swell of your blood when it raves under your skin with amusement.

You’d found yourself a new friend. Damn it if that little devil inside you was edging you to make everything more than friendly.

[confessioncassette]

𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

���𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Part 1

“you and me alone in the dark, forever i stay, with you”

summary : after having a drug fueled revelation on his life, Thanos decided to create a private account. For weeks, this account was his sanctuary where he could “unplug” from the normalities of his life of partying. With no one to watch him, no one to make fun of what his interests were, he posted snippets of his daily life and created an algorithm that suited his secret interests. And one day, he had stumbled upon you.

tw : taking drugs, pinning, not proof read, reader knows little Korean

words : 5.7k

notes : this is a longer version of my drabble. In this specific AU (without the games), I wrote Thanos as someone who longs for a bond and needs someone to understand him on a deeper level. This maybe out of character juuuust a tad from him in the games, but this is what I feel like he would be as Choi Subong rather than Thanos.

“I tried this shit a while back and it’s wild, bro.”

Nam-Gyu sits cross legged on the floor before his friend, an outstretched hand pedestals two little colorful tablets in his palm. Thanos eyes widen, lips curling downward as he shifts over his tailbone.

“Don’t give me that shit,” the black haired man pushed the other playfully, “trust me, I wouldn’t give you this if I didn’t already know what it felt like. It was eye-opening, bro.”

Thanos shakes his head, “I don't know bro, I’ve never taken something like that before.”

Nam-Gyu clicks his tongue, “just trust me. I’m taking it with you.” His eyes shift to look at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. “It's similar to shrooms,” he muses, “Plus, I’m a good trip guide. I won’t let you do any crazy shit.”

Thanos stares at the colorful tablets laid before him, contemplating if this was a good idea. It’s not like he hasn’t tried this stuff before, or worse, but this was newer on the market and Nam-Gyu’s past of harder drugs doesn’t set his mind at ease.

“For real, you won’t end up in the street naked or anything. When I tried this a few months back, it literally saved me, bro. It was like, like uh, like I saw all the beauty in the world…” He paused sheepishly before adding, “or some shit.”

Nam-Gyu smiles, “look, I don’t do hard shit anymore, you know this.”

Which was true, Thanos thought. They’ve tried almost everything under the sun when it came to experimenting when they first met, with the exception of needles when it came to Thanos. When it came to trying newer drugs, Su-bong was extra cautious about them being laced. But, his friend is trying it with him, and he’s done it before… what could go wrong?

”This was the same batch you tried before?”

”Yeah, I saved these last two for just us.”

”I take just one?”

”Just one.”

The purple haired man takes a tablet with confidence and pops it in his mouth.

“Now let it dissolve over your tongue,” Nam-Gyu follows his friend by taking the tablet, which eases the other.

“How long will it take?” Thanos lets out a breath, sinking his back to the floor. His friend follows suit, flopping his body to the floor beside him to stare at the ceiling in Thanos’s high rise apartment.

“Won’t be long, bro. Just enjoy the ride.”

The lights in the apartment were already dim. The faint glow of purple LED lights and the twinkle of the night sky of Seoul made a soft atmosphere. The high was gradual but overwhelmingly apparent. Thanos’s body flooded with an initial rush of adrenaline, causing his body to buzz. Time felt all-being, fast as light but slow as molasses, and his body was just an anomaly between it all.

The emotions inside his mind bursted at the seams, exploding with undescribable love and admiration for life. The fleeting thought deep within his mind made him realize that he’s never truly felt appreciative of life before, but he chose to ignore it. How could he ignore the overwhelming excitement for living? This is beautiful. His friend was beautiful, his apartment was beautiful, these lights were mesmerizing.

He stared at Seoul’s skyline for what felt like hours, completely entranced in the way they sparkled. Neon lights flashing on billboards, the barely-there stars peeking through the city’s light pollution. Maybe one day he’ll see the night sky for real and count every star up there. How come he had never realized how beautiful the city was? The people in the street enjoying food, groups sticking together on a night out, a couple hugging each other in an intimate moment and forgetting the world around them.

He wanted to find love like this. Could this feeling be love? Is this what it felt like to appreciate everything he had been through? He had never felt this love with another human being before, but he can remember the last time he had felt love.

When he was a child, he loved to create. This mostly came through rapping and making music, but he also adored creating through drawing and painting. He loved to dance, he loved to express himself in any way possible through a form of art.

Maybe he had lacked this as he got older. With tough times and life experiences, he began to revert inside himself. In school, he got in with the wrong crowd, tried drugs and got hooked at a young age. He became rebellious, ultimately becoming the leader of the pack. He still created music, though, but it was the only mask he had. Rapping got him exclusive invitations to more popular crowds. He had spiraled and partied regularly before it became a lifestyle.

A new girl every night and waking up with regret, on a vicious cycle of drugs and alcohol, partying way past sunrise and waking up just when the sun began to set.

Was he proud of it? He’s lived this life for too long to remember, so he couldn’t tell.

Did he even have his own conscious? Did his lifestyle dull his senses to what really matters? He can’t tell.

All he could feel was right now, this moment in the lick of time. And time was fleeting.

-

Choi Su-bong woke up the next night alone on his couch. He blinked, once, twice before reaching for his phone on the floor beside him. Cringing at the bright screen and scrolling through notifications, Nam-Gyu had left a text a few hours ago.

남규 🙈 (4:14 pm) : I left earlier to make an appointment. I checked on u before i left to make sure ur alive lol i also locked the door. Txt me when you wake

Sighing and rolling on his back, Su-bong sent a response to notify that he was okay before switching apps.

Instagram was his first choice, per usual, and he was immediately flooded with his fellow idols and influencer ‘friends’' posts. Flashy cars, luxurious dinners, lavish outfits that cost hundreds of dollars… it was always the same. He swallowed, noticing his mouth withered before discarding his phone once again over the fur carpet.

It was Friday night, the start to a weekend, where he would usually get up to shower and head out to the high scale clubs to meet with friends. But tonight he only hopped in the shower to cleanse himself and threw on a hoodie and sweats, because he cringed at the thought of doing anything else.

Sitting alone on his plush couch, tv faintly glowing in the back, he racked his brain on his experience from yesterday. It’s actually surprising that he didn’t feel the effects still. It must have been a short term high.

Though short term, it had lasting effects on his system. His thought process tonight was completely different from normal. No doom scrolling, waking up craving immediate numbness or even hungover. Maybe it was time for a wake up call, and this was what he needed. And to think that he was hesitant at first to take them.

He was tired of the surface level relationships and everything that came with that. His entire adult life had been a blur, a ticking time bomb with fleeting memories. Sure, times were fun, but waking up each day feeling like his body got pummeled by a train wasn’t…fun.

He missed art. He missed making music that came from his heart. He missed creating. Not this senselessness that made him fit in.

Pulling out his phone, Su-bong’s slender fingers tapped along the screen.

Create a new account

The blue letters stared back at him, and he was eager to press. Pursing his lips, he contemplates a new name. And why was thinking of anything original so hard right now? It felt like a ghostly pressure, but this was his first choice he’s consciously made in years. Was it really that hard?

He lets out an airy laugh, “shibal.”

Pattering his colorful fingernails along the screen, he came up with Mystic_Legend.

Was it original to his persona? No. But he liked it that way. It was a little ode to himself, but honoring his attachment.

He kept the profile blank for now, not opting to add a profile picture.

This was a clean slate. The explore page filled with vacation pictures of palm trees next to private pools, someone cooking a healthy meal for their family, a few memes - but what caught his attention was a beautiful art piece hung along a blank wall.

What he could perceive as a skinless torso without the flesh, unmasked and slimy twisting up like a tornado. Brilliant hues of blue and dusty grey explode through the top like a cloud exploding and expanding. Thanos was mesmerized by the painting. He’d never seen anything like this before.

His whole body stalled as his eyes scan every detail of the picture for a while. His mind races with thoughts of what could this be? What was the artist interpreting?

But maybe it wasn’t up for interpretation, maybe it was to feel.

What he felt was a tainted soul blossoming into something new.

This was a deep connection, a coincidence to a new path of life.

A beginning.

-

Su-bong spent less time on social media in the following weeks. From what used to be entertaining fans through comments, responding to DM’s, collaborating with other big artists and liking videos of his appearances and shows to spending most of his time on his burner account.

He had grown an algorithm catered to interests long forgotten and had followed things that genuinely interested him. From thousands of followers to zero, from following a few hundred to 13. It was refreshing, to Su-bong. Something he had needed.

No followers didn’t stop him from posting his daily routine. It was rather fun, actually. Posting things that he was doing without having thousands of people watching his every move. It felt more invigorating to post things that were out of his online persona.

An americano from the cafe down the street, his weights at the gym, his record collection, his at-home studio setup, a new pair of shoes he just bought, a colorful sunset from his apartment, a video of him filming the Han River as he went on a run.

He found a new love in posting things that caught his eye, a new love for things he didn’t really see before.

Nam-Gyu was always around, too. Like usual, he’d stop by the apartment to share a drink or smoke a blunt. The two would watch movies and order take out every few days, leaving Nam-Gyu to pass out on the couch for the night. The bond they shared was always special in regards to the fakeness of the crowd Thanos hung around, so it was natural and comfortable keeping him close.

Though, he’d never share the burner account. That was solely his.

Thanos would still keep a presence online through his main account, but not as much. Fans would ask if things were okay on his posts, but he never responded to those. He did his tasks led by management and kept his social life relatively strong to cause any other suspicion.

However, he did loosen the reins on making appearances. In a span of 2 weeks, he didn’t show up to any night clubs or perform at any shows, much to his managers' dislike. However, he continued to make music, music like he’s never created before.

His new routine would be spending hours in his guest bedroom/home studio making music from his soul. Raps about love and heartbreak, about a life he feels like he’d never lived. Raps about living vicariously through movies, how he longs for companionship but can’t seem to allow himself. Raw emotions would flow, allowing himself to set in a new territory of his mind and heart.

It was like therapy. Years of burden lifted off his shoulder poured into his music. Sometimes angry and intense, spitting painful memories and emotions through the mic - and others loving and soft, thoughtful for genuine affection.

Choi Su-bong felt at ease for the first time since he was a child.

Nestled in his king bed, damp hair draping over his brow, he scrolled through his explore page.

A beautiful face he had scrolled past.

Scrolling back up, he tapped on your picture with lightning speed.

A simple photo, but unremarkable. You posed in a simple dress that accentuated your body modestly, holding the phone up to take a selfie in a park.

Officially 1 month in Seoul!

Seoul? You’re here?

Swiping to your profile, he noticed that you didn’t have much. With only following barely over a hundred people and less than 40 followers, you were an anomaly.

You didn’t even have a caption, just a simple text heart emoji under your name.

Your profile had only 12 photos and 2 of which were you. The rest had been photos of your adventures. A photo of a record store, good food you had tried here in Korea, and pictures of landscapes.

Thanos eagerly tapped on the second photo of you.

You were in bed, phone angled high to capture your beauty with flash, holding a plush animal.

I rewarded myself with a friend today

Su-bong swelled, grinning to himself. The plushie you had looked soft, tuffs of its fur touching your cheek as you smiled sweetly back at him. Scrolling down, he found your first post of an airplane illuminated under airport lights.

Today, I start fresh. I’m nervous. #movingtokorea

Checking the date, you had posted this 2 months ago. You must have moved here recently and are living in the same city as him.

Running slender fingers through his hair, Su-Bong considered interacting with you or not. He had scrolled up to see your face at least a dozen times, practically stalking your entire page. Unable to control his emotions, Thanos buzzed with adrenaline.

He’s made the first move countless of times, but not in a… specific way like this. He never had a problem getting the girl he desired for the night, and he never had to try hard at that. This was a completely different situation.

He didn’t want that type of relationship with you. He felt it reverberating deep within his bones. He wanted more than that. Looking through the screen into your eyes marked him in a way he could never describe in words. It was a pulling, a chain that linked and locked with a click deep in his soul.

One message couldn’t hurt? Right? You didn’t even know who he was, or what society had written about him. You didn’t know his past, his current or even his name.

Would it be weird sending you a message? He doesn’t think he could even cope with being left on read by you.

This was fate, this was more than limerence - it was affinity.

-

You sigh, plopping yourself over your couch and covering yourself with a blanket.

Your apartment was small and barren. It was nothing to look at, but it was home. Little trinkets line your bookshelf in the corner of your living room glow under the tv’s light. Scrolling through your apps, you select a comfort show from your childhood and unwind.

Starting a new life in Seoul wasn’t on your bingo card a year ago, but you had made the rash decision for a job with decent pay. You had never left home, so why not take an adventure to see if you could do it? The best part of all of this was that you always had the decision to move back, or move somewhere else completely.

It was beginning to feel like home, though. It was the perfect amount of space you needed and the environment was a perfect mix of introverted activities and extroverted. You had the freedom to become a hermit, but also had the option to go out if you so please. You lived in a part of the city where you could walk to work, dine and drink down the street. You also lived in an area close to bars if you ever felt the need to socialize.

It was beginning to feel like home after 2 months. Your job was easy to follow, despite you not being an expert in Korean. The people were nice, though they were curious and stared. You stuck out like a sore thumb with your demeanor, but you were becoming accustomed quickly, better than you thought you would.

You should be going out tonight, but you don’t feel ready yet. You should be getting dolled up to enjoy a night of fun, but… this was fun for now. Cuddled up in your cozy apartment after a long week at work.

The tv muffled in the background as you stared out your window, appreciating the skyline.

Your phone buzzes against your tight, drawing you from your thoughts.

Mystic_Legend wants to send you a message

Your brow furrows at the notification, but you’re anxious to see the message. You had little to no lies from your home country, and no one knew you here in Korea. Must be a bot.

Mystic_Legend (9:56 pm) : 나는 당신의 사진을 좋아합니다

You blink, staring at the message in curiosity. Pulling up google on your phone you translate the sentence.

I like your photo

“Weird,” you mumble.

Another instagram notification pops up on your screen and you tap it.

Mystic_Legend (9:57 pm) : 최근에 한국에 도착 했나요? 당신은 그것을 좋아합니까?

Have you arrived in Korea recently? Do you like it?

Uneasiness bubbles within your gut. Wasn’t your profile private? You tap around your screen to double check - and it wasn’t. Curiosity got the best of you and you tap the users profile.

20 posts, 13 following and… zero followers.

An anomaly.

Scrolling through the users posts, you find random things. A pair of new shoes, a video of a hooded figure with his back turned to the camera playing on a soundboard, a picture of the person’s outfit, hat covered with a beanie and phone conveniently covering his face in the mirror. Filtering through more posts, you find the Seoul skyline at night, a deck of cards littering a coffee table, gym equipment and landscape photos.

“What the,” you sigh under your breath before another notification pops over the top of your screen.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 pm) : I’m sorry. I should have written in English.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 pm) : I like your photos. Did you recently move to Korea?

Your fingers hesitate before swiping across the screen to accept the messages.

You (10:02 pm) : Do I know you?

A typing bubble appears before disappearing for a few moments.

Mystic_Legend (10:03 pm) : No, I found you on explore page

Ahh, it clicked. But you won’t tell a stranger sensitive information, the whole situation is weird in the first place. You were hesitant to even respond, leaving the message on read while you stared at the screen.

Mystic_Legend (10:04 pm) : I’m Su-bong. Not a creep, I promise.

You (10:04 pm) : Nice to meet you. Thank you for liking my pictures.

Keeping it short and sweet, you lock your phone, hoping to leave the conversation at that, but your phone vibrates not once, but twice.

Mystic_Legend has followed you

Mystic_Legend (10:06 pm) : I could help you speak Korean, if you don’t know

You contemplate the message, looking at it on your Home Screen. You could use the help with your job and navigating the city. It wouldn’t hurt, right? You could have a native speaker help and just keep it at that. Just for the knowledge, of course. Keep it surface level.

You (10:07 pm) : That helps me, actually.

Mystic_Legend (10:07 pm) : Cool. 😎

Mystic_Legend (10:07 pm) : Maybe we could call?

You (10:08 pm) : Not tonight, it’s pretty late.

Mystic_Legend (10:09 pm) : That is okay, get your rest. We can speak tomorrow?

You (10:10 pm) : Sure.

Seen 10:10pm

You left it at that, and the stranger does too. You get ready for bed shortly after that, confused as to how anyone would even find you on the explore page. You weren’t a big account at all and hardly interacted with content on the app, so what had led to the discovery of your profile?

You did have similar interests, but that couldn’t be the only reason for him to message you.

Before closing your eyes, you tap the instagram application and go to the strangers profile and press follow.

-

It caused Su-bong physical pain to let you go to bed. He wanted to message you more, all night if he could. But you had agreed to a call tomorrow, and he was reeling with adrenaline.

Scanning over your photos in his darkened room overlooking the city lights, he couldn’t keep his gaze off the picture of you in the park. Turning over to lay on his side, a strangeness swells within his chest. It must have been stupid, only a virgin could react so strongly just by pictures and dry messages.

But something had told him this was everything he had been missing. Not ever had he looked at a girl with such a sweetness. He’d hooked up with models, influencers and everything in between, although not remembering most of the nights. He’d share hot kisses with wet tongues in night clubs, inviting high class women to his place to experiment something new, had intense sex fueled by molly, and even bent women over in grimy bathrooms.

This was not new to him, picking up women and getting what he wanted.

But the purity was.

Something swam in your eyes, mesmerizing him in a daze. Something fueled him to keep pushing, to dig deeper as to where this stems from.

You are beautiful, elegant and ethereal actually.

He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t try.

The buzz of a notification almost sends his heart leaping out of his chest to find that you had followed him back.

-

You didn’t hear from the stranger, or Su-bong overnight. To your conflicting disappointment, he wasn’t in the pile of notifications when you woke.

Something pulled you in. Men now-a-days have a large following, or a large number of who they follow. You didn’t mull this over to its extent last night, but when you checked his following, it was all art, photography and music accounts… all 13 of them. He didn’t have a profile picture, but the same silhouette showed continuously through his posts.

He didn’t have any followers, and this led you to think this was a secret account. Maybe he had a girlfriend to hide… but honestly that wouldn’t make sense, because if he were to hide an account, wouldn’t he be following girls? At least one? But the only one was you.

And you were now his only follower.

It seemed like a simple account, purely made for enjoyment. Social media is used for that sort of thing anyways, right? You shake your head, reminding yourself that not every man is out to get you. Not every stranger is here to hurt you.

It’s not that big of a deal, and you shouldn’t even be bothering yourself with it.

So you opt to forget about it and carry on with your day.

Saturday - a day to catch up after the work week and do whatever you want to do. So, you do. You work out, shower and make your way to the little cafe down the street to catch a light breakfast and coffee.

Sitting down at an empty table near the window to people watch, your phone buzzes over the table.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 am) : Good morning

Bzzzzt

Mystic_Legend sent a photo

You practically leap from your seat to snatch your phone, a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. You pray to god that this doesn’t go south, please for the love of god do not be an unsolicited dick pic.

Preparing yourself with a breath, you go to his message embarrassingly fast and tap on the photo.

You squint before opening, as if to allow yourself to be a victim of a terrible sight, but to your delight, the picture opened to a pair of pristine white sneakers next to some weights.

Mystic_Legend (10:03 am) : I am hitting the gym this morning. I hope you slept well.

You (10:04 am) : I beat you to it, I already worked out today. I am getting breakfast.

Sending a picture back can’t do any harm, right? Angling your phone over your food and coffee, you snap a picture and send it.

Mystic_Legend (10:06 am) : Looks good

Mystic_Legend (10:06 am) : What are your plans today?

Mystic_Legend (10:07 am) : I am excited to call, let me know when you are ready.

You purse your lips, blushing at the thought of having a phone call with a stranger. This was unhinged right? No one in their right mind would be doing this… right? Why did your heart flutter with every message he sent?

It’s literally a blank profile.

You tap on his account and scroll down to the photo of him in a mirror. The purple beanie covers his hair and the phone covers most of his face. The hoodie he wears is black with neon coloring and you can’t see past his waist. The one eye you do see, gives a glimpse, a sliver, that who you are talking to is a real person.

You (10:10 am) : I have to run errands today, but I will text you when I am home

The chat bubble lifts above the keyboard, then disappears. You await his response in silence.

Mystic_Legend (10:11 am) : I will wait for you.

An… odd message, you blink. Maybe even sweet… but you don’t know the customs and courtesies of Korean culture enough to have a real judgement. All you need to worry about is finishing your errands and chores before a phone call with a stranger.

-

Flicking the light to your apartment on and dumping your grocery bags on the counter, you stretch.

A day out was just what you needed, and the weather was perfect to walk around in, but damn do your feet ache. Slipping off your shoes by the door, you begin doing your final task of the day.

You barely put the egg carton in your fridge before you hear your phone buzz from the counter. Padding your feet over to your phone, sits another photo message from mystic_legend.

Tilting your head, you open the photo.

An outstretched hand gingerly caresses a wine glass halfway filled with a deep red in front of a kitchen counter.

Mystic_Legend (8:00 pm) : I hope you had a good day.

You (8:00 pm) : Sorry it is so late, I met up with a coworker for dinner.

You cringe at your apology, it’s not like he deserved one. But it was true. Your coworker saw you shopping at a local store and asked if you’d be down to have drinks and food. You couldn’t say no, especially since you have no friends. And this coworker is also a foreigner, so it works out in terms of no language barriers. But you did have plans to call with him, so maybe you felt the need to mention that?

You (8:01 pm) : Is that red wine?

Mystic_Legend (8:01 pm) : Yes. I like this one.

Mystic_Legend sent a photo

You open the photo to see an exquisite bottle of red with the label in French.

You (8:03 pm) : Looks expensive, are you rich?

Mystic_Legend (8:04 pm) : It was a gift.

You (8:05 pm) : I will call soon, I need to finish cleaning up and shower

Mystic_Legend hearted your message but said nothing else.

You freshen up after a long day, letting the hot water cascade down your back. Rubbing your shoulders to ease the tension, your mind wanders.

Was this a trick? Was he a creep? How could you be so naive in trusting a complete stranger? It was weird, what you were doing.

But in reality, you are lonely. Making this move was huge for you and your confidence. You’ve never ventured out like this before. You are a big girl, you don’t need to explain your reasons for making friends. You are completely on your own, working in a completely new country, and doing good at it.

You’re not tied down by anything but yourself, so why was it hard to accept the fact that this was a little unconventional?

You’ve tried dating apps in the past- you physically cringe forcing yourself to stop your thought process. Shrugging your shoulders against the water in a visceral reaction, you shake off the thought. This guy is not an interest, why were you thinking it was? Instagram is not an app to date.

Even so, he had never asked anything other than to talk to you. You’ve had guys in the past ask for nudes almost immediately. You’ve had guys thirsting over you in such an icky way that it completely turned you off.

But…

You lean your head back into the waterfall and puff your cheeks.

He hasn’t done that.

You couldn’t help by think of all the reason why. Why he had messaged. Was it a cover? He could be a complete fuck-boy underneath it all and he’s just grabbing your attention.

What if he isn’t even real. What if he’s some mama’s boy living in a dingy basement?

You groan, anticipation swelling deep in your belly. You feel like you might be sick at the thought of a measly voice call.

You can’t help that it excites you.

-

Silk pajamas caress your skin and the plush comforter of your bed warms your senses as you whip out your phone and settle yourself in a comfortable position.

Your finger lingers over the phone symbol next to the strangers name… and you can’t do it.

You (11:01 pm) : I’m ready

WIthin seconds, like he really was awaiting your message, your phone screen illuminates with a voice call.

Your body tenses at the mere sight and you suck in a breath, hitting accept.

“Hello?”

“Annyeonghaseyo,” he calls, his voice low and smooth like honey. You melt at the slow infliction of his tone.

“Oh- annyeong-“ You stutter, but he doesn’t react. “How are you?” You try to hold it together to keep your voice from shaking, praying that he doesn’t notice. Your poor Korean could be embarrassing to him.

“That was good,” he comments before proceeding, “I am good now. I told you I would wait for you.”

The more he spoke, the more you caught on to his thick accent. It wasn’t perfect. But you didn’t care, you understood him just fine.

You give an airy laugh, “you did.”

”What did you do today?”

You hum. “I worked out, went to lunch… I went shopping and met up with a coworker of mine for dinner. It was nice. What did you do today?”

He hums in response.

“One second-“ he says, followed by quick tapping on his screen. After a moment, he begins to speak again.

“I worked out too. I had chest day. Then I made music.”

“Music?”

“Yes,” he pauses, “I like to make music.”

”Is that why you post pictures of you in a studio?”

“Yes,” the tapping on his phone is rapid now, “I have my own studio in my house.”

”That’s so cool! I’d like to hear your music…”

The stranger was silent on the other line.

”Maybe.”

“Okay, well no pressure. I don’t like to show anyone my personal stuff either.” You opt to keep the conversation light.

He hums in agreement.

“Why did you come to Korea?”

You shift under your covers, thinking of a response.

“I… just needed a new start. I wanted to see what I could accomplish.” Is what you ended up with.

He hums again, slow and low, taking a moment to respond.

“I understand. I have lived here my entire life. I always wanted to travel, that is good that you did.”

You laugh, “it was scary at first, moving to a new country and all…”

”I could tell you all the best spots around here.”

”I’d like that, I’m still getting used to it.” You turn your head to look at the moon outside your window.

”Do you remember my name?” He questions.

”Su-Bong.” You respond quietly.

”Yes, I’d like to know yours.”

You swallow, internally battling yourself with how to respond. You don’t want to give him your real name in the means of safety. But he did give you his.

“Is that actually your name?”

“Of course, why would I lie?” His accent was thick and questioning, low in bass. It rang so nicely through your ears. His infliction doesn’t waver, and it draws you in.

You slowly said your own name, giving him the benefit of the doubt. It was just a name after all, and he had already known what you looked like.

He repeated your name quietly, like he savored it on his tongue. His deep voice electrified your nerves in a way you’ve never experienced, triggering your body to grow hot in embarrassment.

“Beautiful name,” was all he said.

You sheepishly give thanks before yawning.

“Are you tired?”

Your eyelids grow heavy to the sound of his voice. “I am.”

”I will let you go to sleep, can we talk tomorrow?”

You wait a moment to respond as your heart flutters in response to him.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

”Okay,” he whispers, “an nyeong hi ju mu se yo.”

”Goodnight, Su-Bong.”

-

Thanos hung up the phone almost too quickly, but not because he wanted to leave the conversation, but because he needed to let out a breath he had been holding.

Your voice was sweet and calming. It had lulled his system like waves of the ocean.

Running his fingers through his hair his eyes dart around the room and curses under his breath.

You’d definitely be the death of him.

[pinkaditty]

Victim (Perv!SlightYan!Haku Kusanagi x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

Part 1: There's a Snake under your Bed!

being held at gunpoint uhhhhmmmm sorry! haku’s my fav! bang!

a/n: so i can’t get this idea out of my head. enjoy. it's been swimming in my head for literal DAYS. please eat and enjoy this or ill cry. also blame aya she put so much perv! haku shit on my dash that i went in2 cardiac arrest and had 2 write this LMFAOOAOAO

summary: haku walks you back after hanging out at hotarubi. the rain traps you inside.

cw: perverted haku kusanagi, slight yandere/unhinged haku kusanagi (?), weird behavior, implied peeping tom, etc etc u guys know the drill. NOT PROOFREAD i just edited the typos idk if it's perfect. ill polish it later maybe.

QUICK BLURB: @kkink recently contacted me and was kind enough to let me know that we both had the same ideas for this prompt and they have written something similar. im not sure if they've posted theirs yet, but please check them out! they were super nice and were really concerned about it, so give them some love please!

BEFORE YOU READ: ok last thing: i personally hc haku 2 be a natural redhead. his hair is probably copper. why? bc his roots, even in his cat and chibi sprites, are shown to be red. i think he just chooses 2 dye his hair green, but you can't dye your lashes (safely, at least), which is why his lashes in this fic are described as copper. okok that's all.

It starts when you accidentally let it slip that Haku’s your favorite ghoul. Not that anybody—including Haku himself—didn’t really know, but hearing it from you is different altogether. 

He was walking you back to the chapel after you spent the afternoon at Hotarubi. There was no particular reason for your visit, just to see the ghouls and perhaps escape from the otherwise chaotic atmosphere of Darkwick campus. As ever, Haku, Subaru, and Zenji were welcoming, and happily accommodated you with sweets, tea, pleasant conversation, and the soft pattering of the rain filling any silence. You miss the constant rain in Hotarubi every time you leave, even if it’s raining on Darkwick campus in general. 

Haku keeps his pace a bit slower than usual so you can keep up, clearly not in any rush to drop you off. He’s humming a pleasant tune, one of the many ones you’ve heard him play on his flute before. You appreciated his leisurely attitude, smiling to yourself. Something about when he hums or plays on his flute makes you feel relaxed, even with all that’s happening on campus. You are content to let the silence continue, filled with the rumbling of the sky signaling thunder, and Haku’s pleasant humming. 

Unfortunately, either a higher power has a grudge against you or Darkwick is cursed, because in mere moments, a soft drizzle that had you and Haku speedwalking to your door turned into a surprisingly heavy downpour, right as you turn the corner to the chapel. With the two of you soaked, it hardly seemed worth it to speed walk any longer.

You exchange glances with Haku, taking in his drenched form. Your amusement must show on your face, for his eyes crinkle with mirth as well. You think for a moment his eyes linger on your chest, but maybe you're imagining it. 

Finally on the front steps of the chapel, you open your door and tumble into the much warmer, drier environment. You look back to Haku, just as he's waving farewell. 

“See you around, princess." He winks at you, smiling brightly despite the rain. "Come by again sometime.”

He's about to turn on his heel and march back to Hotarubi in the rain when you reach out and grasp his wrist. It almost slips out of your hand from how slick it is due to the rain.

"No, stay.” 

He whips his head around and glances at your firm grip on his wrist, a light blush coming to his face. As he turns his gaze back to you, he smiles wryly. “Why, need help getting undressed after all this rain?” His eyes narrow with mirth, and another emotion you can’t quite place.

A blush colors your face but you don’t respond, a bit surprised by his forwardness. Haku was always forward with you, but you can never tell if he’s being serious or not. 

Your silence must have spooked him, because he turns away, his smile fading just a little. “Kidding, I promise.” You almost wish he wasn’t. He turns back to you, smiling brightly as though the joke really hadn’t meant anything. “Really though, I should get back to Hotarubi. Subaru’s waiting on me.”

His excuses barely phase you, and they don’t help to loosen your grip, either. You tug him inside, and he reluctantly follows, albeit with some resistance. “Subaru will understand. I can’t let you catch a cold.” You release his wrist once he’s inside and quickly shut the door behind him, effectively trapping him inside. You then tug him along to your room, biting back a smile when you feel his resistance fade. 

You open the door and usher Haku inside, pressing your hands insistently on his back until he relents and slinks inside, standing awkwardly close to the door like a lost wet cat. You shut the door behind him again, walking into your room comfortably. You turn to him, only to notice his eyes scanning the room, as though committing it to memory, before his eyes halt on something just over your shoulder. You turn around questioningly, only to realize in your rush to leave for Hotarubi, you had left a small pile of clothes in front of your bed, including some embarrassingly patterned intimates. Your face colors immediately, and you rush over, nearly tripping over your feet to get to the pile. You bundle the small pile in your arms, looking towards Haku apologetically. You stammer before finding the right words, painfully aware of Haku’s amused gaze boring into you. “S-Sorry! Um, I was in a rush before I left for Hotarubi, and—”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Haku cuts you off, shaking his head. “I’m the same way. Back home, I’d leave my jackets lying around so frequently I’d trip over them pretty often.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling shyly. 

You tilt your head at him, forgetting you’re holding a pile of panties and bras as you turn towards him. “Huh.” You take a moment to absorb this new information, smiling softly. It was funny how the heir to a rather prestigious Shinto shrine was so normal with odd habits of his own. It made your heart swell with familiarity. “What did your family think of that?" 

He shakes his head, glancing away. “My family hardly went in my room.” From the uncharacteristically stoic tone in his voice, you assumed it wasn’t a topic he wanted to talk about. You respect that, letting the slightly awkward silence settle over you two. Before long, you notice him intermittently glancing at the pile of clothes you still carried in your arms. You rush to shove them into your hamper, moving it out of sight behind a chair. It’s when he laughs that you realize you may have gone overboard.

“I hope you don’t invite just any guy over when you’ve got your clothes lying around like that.” Haku jokes, scuffing his shoes against the wooden floor. A wry smile twists his face again, and his gaze flickers from you to where you hid the hamper. “Some of them might get the wrong idea, you know.” With the way his gaze fixates on you as he says that, you are almost inclined to believe that was a warning against him specifically. You suppress a shiver and blink at him curiously instead, smiling amusedly.

“Well, I know I can trust you!” You turn away, heading towards a closet to collect some towels for the two of you. “You’re my favorite ghoul.”

You grab two white towels and shuffle back to Haku, noticing he seems rather stiff and wide-eyed. He clicks his tongue as he regains his relaxed composure, smirking at you as though he were fine moments ago. “You say that to all the ghouls I bet.” He chuckles.

“No, just you.” You’re standing rather close to Haku, using your own towel to dry off your hair. You’re uncomfortably aware of how your uniform sticks to your body. It makes you shiver, holding the towel tight against your neck. When you look up again, Haku’s gaze snaps upwards to meet yours. You were sure he’d been looking at your chest just now, but maybe you’re overthinking it. “I know I’m technically not allowed favorites,” you start, a teasing smile growing on your face, “but you’ve been so kind. How could you not be my favorite?” You smile cheerily at him before stepping back and focusing on drying your hair, relieving yourself from some of the stagnant chill of the rapidly cooling water. 

Instead of painstakingly attempting to dry your uniform blazer, you decide to try and peel it off. You’ve barely managed to shrug it off your shoulders before you turn back to Haku. He jumps slightly, his gaze flickering to your face, as though he’d been in a trance. “You should take off your wet blazer, too. You’ll still catch a cold if you keep wet clothes on.” 

You turn away and struggle with your blazer a bit more, the sleeves and back insistently stuck to your skin thanks to the rain. Haku laughs behind you, and you hear approaching footsteps. “You know princess, I am always down to help you undress.” His voice lowers in tone by a few notes. You shiver as a warm hand settles on your shoulder. Even warmer breath curls around your ear and you fight the urge to shiver again. “All you have to do is ask.” You can almost feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, but choose to ignore it, letting him take hold of one of the sleeves of your blazer.

He’s definitely only teasing you. Your face is burning from the sudden closeness, and you’re almost certain the stifled chuckle from behind is him enjoying your embarrassed, speechless state. He successfully helps you wiggle out of one arm of the blazer, and you think you feel his fingers tracing your bra straps before he helps you slide out of the other arm of your blazer. 

You turn towards him, and he hands your blazer back to you, looking smug. Something flickers in his eyes, but you can’t quite place what. He almost looks excited. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” You reluctantly hum an agreement, rolling your eyes. He could tease you all he wanted, but that didn’t mean you’d play along forever. 

Still amused, Haku turns away and begins peeling his own blazer off. For a moment, you’re stuck watching his movements, observing how his skin peeks through the drenched layers of his shirt, watching as his shoulders flexed when he tugged on his sleeves. Droplets of water still hang from his hair, gently clinging to the back of his neck. You hear him chuckle, and look up to find his gaze fixed on you over his shoulder. “It’s rude to stare, princess.” 

To prove a point, you turn away, huffing indignantly. You use your towel to attempt to dry off some more, but even with that, you still feel unusually cold. You glance longingly towards your bathroom, imagining the benefits of a hot shower. But that would probably be rude to do, especially with Haku here. You sigh and place your towel atop a chair, sitting on it so you don't get the chair wet. Haku joins you, sitting on a chair next to you. You watch as a stray droplet of water slides down the side of his face, eventually dipping down his jaw and sliding down his neck before disappearing below the collar of his uniform shirt. Idly, you wonder if the droplet joined the clinging moisture of his top, or continued rolling down his slightly exposed collarbone. 

Before you can think to check, Haku clears his throat, and you lift your gaze to meet his. “Using your hands is far more effective than using your eyes to undress me." He winks at you, his smile curling into something less teasing and more genuinely suggestive. 

You exclaim, embarrassed at having been caught staring again, and once again tripped up by his forwardness. You scramble to retort in time, folding your arms in front of your chest, not missing how Haku’s gaze drops shamelessly. “If you keep making jokes about us being undressed, I'm going to start assuming it's something you want to do." You smirk at him, your face lighting up with mirth. “There's a bit of truth in every joke, after all." You speak in a singsong voice, further teasing Haku. Of course, you didn't want the jokes to stop, but that didn't mean you couldn't tease him about any potential desires he could be unaware of.

The way Haku looks at you as you tease him sends a curious shiver down your spine. The way his tongue flicks across his lips for a moment paired with his piercing gaze reminds you of a snake. His smile is neither teasing, nor suggestive, but almost sinister in nature. “What, you want the truth of me being a pervert who wants to see you undressed?” 

Something about his tone was teasing, but there wasn't the slightest hint of a lie in what he suggested. You aren't sure what expression you're making, too focused on suppressing the nervous, wild smile that threatened to spread across your face. You open and close your mouth, trying to find a response, but any witty or even lackluster responses fail to come to you.

Haku bursts out in laughter, but something about it feels somewhat forced. “I’m kidding, I promise!" He says between remnant chuckles, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. “Gosh, you should see your face." He leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his chin in his hands. He points at your face, smirking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn that color.”

You bury your face in your hands, not bothering to look up when Haku continues laughing. He was only teasing, you were sure of that…

You decide to simply ignore him again, shivering. You hug yourself with your arms, looking longingly towards your bathroom again. It'd have to wait. You glance towards the window, noting the rain still pattering. You shiver again without realizing, wondering if it would be too far to take your soaked shirt off and wrap your towel around yourself instead. 

“Go ahead." Haku speaks up, and when you turn towards him, he jerks his head towards your bathroom. “I don't mind." 

You shake your head, smiling politely. “No, it’s fine! It’d be rude of me to shower while a guest is over—”

Haku shrugs at your words before cutting you off. “And who is a guest to interrupt her highness’s shower?” He smiles fondly at your perplexed expression, glancing towards the window. “The rain’s letting up, anyway. I won’t be here much longer, so it doesn’t matter.” 

You try not to deflate at Haku’s mention of his eventual departure. Instead, you gaze at him warily, trying to ensure he really is okay with you disappearing for twenty minutes or so. He simply returns your gaze, blinking slowly, an easy smile on his face. 

You relent, finally turning away after feeling your skin prickle with something between excitement and hesitance. You look towards the shower again, before glancing at him once more out of the corner of your eye. He sighs and holds out his hand, his pinky outstretched. “Here, I promise I won’t do anything strange.” He smiles again, his expression seemingly open and trusting, the same Haku you first met on the train several months ago. “You can trust me. I’m your favorite, right?” His smile turns cheeky, and you try and fail to resist returning his smile. You reach out with your pinky too, circling it around his own. His skin is warm to the touch, and you notice a callous on his fingertip, probably from years of perfecting the flute. 

After holding his pinky for a moment too long, you finally pull away and lift yourself from the chair, gathering a fresh outfit before heading for the shower. You pretend not to feel Haku’s gaze following your movements. 

You give Haku a slight wave before closing the door to the bathroom, leaning your back on the door. You still felt a bit odd about all of this, but he was still your favorite ghoul. You were sure you could trust him to not pillage your dresser like you’d expect some other ghouls to do with reckless abandon. 

You pause as you start undressing, thinking to yourself for a moment. You trace the straps of your bra in the same way you were sure Haku had earlier when he helped you take off your blazer. He’s been nothing but decent, if not a little flirtatious. Sure, his actions and jokes were questionable, and both Subaru and Zenji have had to metaphorically pull on his leash every now and again, but he was still kind. Perhaps this had something to do with why he was so awkward and hesitant about being alone with you? You decide to halt your thoughts there and swallow the desire of indecency from him. You clench your jaw, feeling your body heat up as you attempt to stave off your arousal. You were definitely due for a cold shower to at least shake these thoughts off. 

You flinch at the cold temperature of the water when you finally step inside, and after feeling like you were somewhat clean of perverse desires, you turn the water back to a warmer temperature. As you bathe, grateful for the warm water at long last, you glance at the door momentarily. It’s cracked open, a golden eye framed by copper lashes gazing at you through the space. You look away, not having fully absorbed the scene. A jolt passes through you as what you just saw settles in. You suddenly startle and quickly move to cover yourself, looking back at the door, just a split second from when you’d first glanced. 

It was closed. 

You blink at the closed door, feeling your heartbeat thump insistently in your chest. You heave, your mouth hanging open in shock. You place a hand on your chest, keeping your gaze on the door. After a few minutes of silently staring at the door, you allow yourself to minutely relax, reducing the tremor in your arms to a barely noticeable tremble. You breathe deeply, each exhale coming out like a sigh of relief. You blink a few more times, as though to clear your vision, and turn back to the door. Still closed. You shake your head and return to bathing, mulling over what you had seen. There really was no other explanation besides you potentially hallucinating that, right? Right. Perhaps you hadn’t looked closely enough and had seen what you wanted to see, right? Right. Haku was pretty harmless, right? …Well, he is a ghoul. But besides that, he’s harmless. Probably. And when you think about it, you’d give the same judgement to most of the ghouls on campus, anyway. Probably harmless so long as you didn’t piss them off. You nod to yourself, shaking your head again as you turn off the water. You hadn’t seen anything, after all.

As you’re drying off, moisturizing, and getting dressed in a fresh outfit, you notice a puddle of something just inside the room, right in front of the door. It was almost invisible against the white tile, but still there nonetheless. It was a white, milky, translucent substance. You finish dressing after keeping an eye on it like the puddle would escape. You open the bathroom door as you gaze at it, walking past it. It looks like it could be some of your vanilla-scented soap, but—

“Hey,” Haku calls to you from the front of the room, adjusting his blazer. One look at the windows tells you the rain has finally let up, bits of sun shining through gaps in the clouds. You trot out of the bathroom, puddle forgotten, and approach Haku. 

You exaggerate a pout, crossing your arms. “Leaving already?”

Haku laughs, reaching out and swiping his knuckle under your chin, lifting your face. “Cheer up,” he says before pulling back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ll come visit another time.”

You huff, shooing him away with your hands. He chuckles and turns away, opening the door. “First you’re pouting, and now you’re shooing me away?” 

“Subaru’s waiting, isn’t he?” You cross your arms and lean on the doorway, watching as he makes his way to the entrance of the chapel.

Haku sucks in a breath, a grimace forming on his face. “Ah, yeah.” Haku rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Hope I’m not in trouble…” He mumbles to himself, opening the chapel door and stepping outside. He looks back and waves, cheeky smile on his face. He’s probably thinking about how he’s your favorite ghoul. 

You wave back, and wait until the door finally closes to step back inside your own room, closing the other door behind you. Your fingers curl into your palms as you try not to excitedly run over to the side of your bed. You tamp down your excitement, walking slowly. You crouch next to the corner of your bed and try to wipe the stupid smile off of your face before peeking around the corner at the hamper full of clothes you’d stashed here earlier. The pile was noticeably lacking, even smaller than it was before. The most obvious and memorable patterns were still there, but you could tell a few of your intimates were definitely missing. You try not to let your smile grow wider, biting down harshly on your lips. 

He’d taken the bait. 

a/n: is literally vibrating with excitement IM FINISHED OH MY GODDDD THIS TOOK SO LONGGGGG EVERYONE PLEASE ENJOY!!!!!!!! god i hope this is literally PERFECT i spent 4ever making it just right so i hope it gets y'alls toes curling or whatever amen!

shamelessly, as per usual, please, i love likes, but especially comments, tagged reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work! im catering to you! please, let me know if you liked it!

ok let me. try and stop shaking IMS OS EXCITED 2 POST!!!!!!! okok im done

4got 2 add this in earlier but self-indulgent: in case ur like me and cannot stop pacing bc of perv!haku x reader, here's the songs i listened 2 while writing this:

"judas" and "monster" by lady gaga

"mind brand" by maretu

"gasoline" by halsey

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow

want 2 join the tkdb taglist? let me know!

[iamkawiidino]

every reblog this post gets, the more paper there is to consume

glad that im not popular enough to have an evil shadow version of my blog that exists just to make contradictions on my posts

[lowkeyerror]

My Wife, My Everything

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: Requested, established relationship, Rio in the coven, fluff, wedding

Summary: It's been over 300 years it might be time to put a ring on it.

An: 🫣 hey... how yall doing? It's nearly 3 months since my last post, it's also 3am. The inspiration came and died and then i got scared to go the app 🫣 idk if I'm back, but hey

Masterlist | Masterlist 2

It just made sense. That’s what you told yourself when you decided to propose to Agatha. She hadn’t hinted at wanting to get married or pressured you into it, but it had been years. Hundreds of years, that you had been committed to each other. You’d been married over and over if common law had anything to say about it.

You were in the backyard of your house late on night. Simply going down memory lane with each other. Sharing stories and laughter easily. Agatha was looking out at the sky while you were looking at her. The ring box flat in your pocket.

“We should get married,” you had said casually.

“Is this you asking me?” Agatha had an amused tone in her voice.

“Give me second.”

It’s not graceful as you get out of your chair. Her eyes follow you as you get down on one knee. Your hand finds one of hers.

“Are you-?”

She watches carefully as you pull out the ring box from your pocket. It opens, and inside is one of the most beautiful gems Agatha has laid her eyes on. The central diamond sparkles something fierce while the band also gleams.

“I think it’s fair to say that I’ve already made the decision to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s nearly been 3 centuries that we’ve been together.  Which perhaps makes this very long overdue, but neither of us are too keen on good timing. I don’t want to ramble too much. I did have all these things I wanted to say and express, but I think in the simplest terms, it’s just that I’d love to marry you.”

Agatha had tears welling in her eyes, she wiped them away dramatically, “I mean you could ramble a little.”

You roll your eyes but begin speaking nonetheless, “We never really talked about marriage so it never really crossed my mind. Recently though, I’ve been wondering, why not? Why not add, my wife into the vocabulary of all the other things I call you? It’s a new age, it’s perfectly legal. I decided a long time that I wanted forever with you and I'd like to think you want forever with me. This ring is just me doubling down on something I already believe in, us.”

She takes your face in her hands, “You’re taking my last name.”

You surge forward, lips pressing against her’s. Her soft palms feel warm against your face. You melt like it’s the first time you kissed her.

You pull away first a giggle escapes your lips, “I figured that much.”

She pecks your lips once more, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Wedding planning wasn’t something you and Agatha were necessarily good at. However, your coven was more than capable of handling the special day. It wasn’t going to be anything extravagant, just a backyard affair with your closest friends.

Rio handled the flowers, Jen and Billy worked on the set up, Alice was preparing the music, and Lilia would be officiating.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you look at yourself in your wedding attire.

The classic white color with accents of purple had you smiling.

“About time any longer and I would’ve stolen her back from you,” Rio approaches you from behind.

“Very funny Vidal,” you say dryly.

She turns you to her straightening out your clothes a bit, and fixing a loose strand of your hair. She smiles at you brightly, “There, now you look a little more ready to marry the love of your life.”

“Thank you, Rio. For all your help,” you get sappy with her.

In classic fashion she rolls her eyes, “Don’t go all soft on me. I just want to see my girls happy. Now get out there and make it official after 300 years.”

You go out first, standing to the right of Lilia as your other friends looked on. You couldn't stop the smile on your face waiting for Agatha to walk down the aisle.

Alice begins playing the classic wedding song. Your posture straightens a bit. When you see Agatha in her dress for the first time it knocks the air out of your lungs.

You don’t fight the tears that spill from your eyes. How could you? She was stunning possibly even more than the day you met her.

When she’s directly in front of you, you reach for her hands and she takes yours.

Lilia properly starts the ceremony and when she gets to the vows you’re prepared, but Agatha wants to go first.

“I never thought that someone like me could be afforded a happy ending. The life I lived is far from innocent and pure. It had been an uphill battle for as long as I could remember. Then you came into my life and did something that I didn’t think was possible. You loved me. Despite all of my… flaws, despite my reputation, despite my stubbornness, you loved me. There’s not a second that goes by that I don’t feel your loved wrapped around me. Something like a warm hug shielding me from a snowstorm. It doesn’t seem like enough, but from you it is. I vow to be that for you until my last breath because for over 300 years you’ve been saving me from freezing me to death."

It takes everything in you to keep from sobbing during her voes, your speech forgotten in your brain. You look into her eyes when it’s your turn, speaking from your heart.

“When I proposed I said I didn’t want to ramble, because if I started, I’d never stop. There’s nothing that I don’t love about you Agatha. I love when you scowl at the kids at the mall, I love when you use magic for mundane things like turning the lights on, I love when you hum to yourself while you work, I love when you yell at me for not wearing my glasses. You say that I’ve been saving you, but love, you’ve been saving my ass since the day we met. You quite literally saved me from those hunters, you took me in when you didn’t have to. When everyone was saying it was against your character. Maybe I saved your from freezing, but you’ve saved me from burning myself into the ground. I don’t have anything new to promise you after over 300 years. All I have is the same thing you’ve had since the beginning; my everything.”

There’s not a dry eye in the audience as you two stand across from each other. Tear streaks running down your faces. Even Lilia has to wipe her eyes.

“If anyone has a reason that these two shouldn’t be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Rio slowly pretends to raise her hand before Jen smacks her in the back of the head. It earns a chuckle from the audience, everyone knowing it was a joke. It was needed after such intense vows.

 “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Neither of you hesitated. Though you had an audience there was no use in trying to hold back the passion. The vows had charged the moment. With rings on your fingers and tears on your face, you melted into each other.

Applause and boisterous cheers rang out when you parted. When you looked into her eyes it’s as if she was the only person there.

“I love you, my gorgeous, powerful, and brilliant wife,” you can’t help but smile while saying it.

Agatha lets out an endearing laugh, “I love you too. My wife, my everything.”

[thecheshireprincess]

Let Me

Shuntaro Chishiya x GN!Reader (No pronouns mentioned)

Summary: Your best friend wants to help you carry the struggles you've had since the accident in Shibuya

Content Warning: Reader is in a little bit of a depressive episode, nothing that I think would be terribly triggering. Suggestive towards the end; making out, straddling/dry humping, suggestive words. Probably curse words, I have no chill. Mostly just another fluff bomb.

A/N: This story can be read as a standalone, but is technically written as a post-Borderland part two to Bad Day 💕✨️ I hope you enjoy 😉

Life had been challenging for you since the incident in Shibuya.

Finding yourself reflecting on that day for what must be the millionth time since it happened, you roll onto your back and sigh in frustration. You had just settled into a booth at your favorite diner with Chishiya after spending the afternoon with the Mona Lisa, the man having shared a piece of himself with you that you never expected to have. Your friend had allowed you to lay your head against his shoulder and soak in the tranquility of the museum, turning your bad day around in an instant. In a way only he could. That is until you saw the colorful fireworks dance across the daytime sky outside the window, unknowingly changing everything you'd ever known. It really must have been your worst day ever, right? With a bat of your eyelashes, you were somehow awake again in the hospital, crying out for your friend and demanding every passing nurse and doctor to allow you see him.

When they finally caved and wheeled you reluctantly to his room, your tired eyes lighting up upon meeting his chestnut ones; you felt like something had shifted in your relationship. Like it was somehow significantly deeper than you remembered it being before, even after the Mona Lisa. You just know that there was something more that happened to you between the fireworks and waking up in the hospital - you just couldn't bring yourself to confide in anyone about it. Especially Chishiya. What if he they thought you were crazy?

Even two months after being released from the hospital with nothing more than a handful of scars and some colorful bruising, your usual routine was still evading you. The siren song of your warm, comforting bed frequently dominated the need to get up and function as a productive member of society. Things had gotten so bad of late that you'd considered dropping out of medical school to stay cocooned all day and succumb to the suffocating tendrils of dark thoughts in your mind. It was the strangest thing feeling like you were missing a major part of your memory like this, despite doctors insisting your heart had stopped for only one minute. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow away from this life for much much longer than that.

You drove yourself to the brink of insanity every day trying to untangle the messy strings tangled up in your mind. Not only did you feel like you were missing memories, but you also felt different after the meteor; changed in a major way. It went beyond just being a little more reclusive - like you wanted to be and do so much more with your life. To be honest, it was overwhelming. It felt easier to lie in bed and hide from the world than attempt to flip your life completely upside down. And so, that's exactly what you were doing.

Only furthering your suspicions, your best friend has been a completely different person since the accident. More attentive. Calling and texting multiple times a day, things you usually had to initiate with him. Bringing you your homework, sitting and studying with you to make sure you didn't fall behind in school. At this point, Chishiya was the only reason you hadn't fallen out of society completely at this point.

And now? Here he was sitting outside the closed door to your bedroom, trying to coax you out like a cat stuck in a tree. You were having yet another bad day, of which there were more and more with fewer good days in between to balance them out. It isn't really that anything bad had happened to you necessarily, it's just that you can't seem to push this heavy weight off your chest or lift the haze of your clouded mind. Would you drive yourself mad before ever figuring out what really happened to you that day?

"You haven't eaten a real meal in days," his monotone voice cuts through your oppressive thoughts, "I brought you your favorite." Your ears perk up the tiniest bit at that - not only had Chishiya known what your favorite thing to eat was, he went out of his way (all the way across the city!) to get it and bring it to you. You hum simply in quiet acknowledgement, throat scratchy from going so long without using your voice or really having much to drink.

"I even got you a milkshake too," his tone lilts - teasing - knowing exactly how to speak directly to your hungry soul, "If you come out here you can have it." You do want the food. And you do want to see Chishiya. He is the only person you care about spending time with right now, the one thing that's keeping you tethered to the real world and away from your more cynical thoughts. But the way the cozy abyss of your bed has lovingly smothered you in its luxuriousness speaks louder; drowning out the call of delicious food and spending time with your friend. You shift a tiny bit, yanking the covers higher without a word. Your silent captor had won once again, leaving you powerless to fight back against it. Would you drown alone in the thoughts flooding your mind?

Chishiya waits a few moments, patient as a saint, listening through the polished wood for a response that he knows will never come. Not when you're like this. "If you won't come out to eat, then I'm coming in there," he warns, ready to get to the bottom of what's been going on with you lately - whether you like it or not. The brass doorknob turns, the door slowly gliding open to reveal the blonde, hair pulled messily into a low bun. If you weren't so caught up in the middle of a battle against your inner demons, his appearance would have taken your breath away. His warm, chestnut eyes rake over your form, covers pulled up over your nose to reveal only your eyes blinking back at him. The corners of his lips quirk up into his signature smirk at your state.

"Hiding from me?" He queries, smirk falling slightly as he carefully rests the bag of takeout on your nightstand next to the untouched glass of water he'd brought you last night. Any sign of ice or condensation long gone from the glass, Chishiya clicks his tongue as he looks at it then back to your much paler than usual face. Disappointed that you hadn't drank it, despite your quiet insistence that you would. Scared that you really might not be alright anymore. Unsure of how to help you if you wouldn't talk through your thoughts with him. He moves to sit at the edge of your bed facing you, his weight sinking into the plush mattress. He rests his right knee on the bed, his thigh pressing comfortingly against your tense body; the sudden contact causing you to jolt involuntarily. He doesn't move away. You allow your puffy, reddened eyes to search his, finding something surprising nestled there - genuine concern. You aren't going to win this; it's time to address the elephant in the room. It feels like an eternity passes as you sit in silent standoff with the man, delaying the inevitable. Chishiya is patient, though. He'll wait all day if he has to. You finally let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and shift a tiny bit closer to the warmth radiating off of him.

You clear your throat, trying to will the hoarseness away. "Not hiding from you . . . just the rest of the world," you force out the partial truth. His head tilts in that chracteristic way - telling you he's listening, urging you to continue. When you don't give him any more to work with, he speaks up instead, "You aren't okay, baby. We need to talk about this. Please."

You're not sure what does it, the unexpected nickname from the man or the outloud acknowledgement that you are not okay, but the tears flood your eyes fast. You blink your wettened eyelashes quickly, swallowing hard, trying in vain to shove down the emotions threatening to drown you once more. "I don't feel like myself anymore, Shiya," you croak in a shaky voice, "I feel like I've been missing a whole chunk of myself since I woke up in the hospital." Some stray tears fall against your face, dragging a sorrowful path down your cheeks, but you don't care anymore.

Chishiya's eyes widen slightly, so slightly that you would have missed it if you weren't so focused on his expression. He nods in recognition of your admission, boldly brushing his thumbs against your cheeks to chase away the tears. Your eyebrows furrow in momentary confusion, but you ultimately allow your head to lean into his shockingly soft touch; burning eyes fluttering shut. The blonde says nothing for a moment, soothingly stroking the sensitive skin of your face to allow you space to calm down. He's here.

"I feel that way too . . ." he murmurs after your tears have dried, trailing off into thought and then chuckling lightly, "Especially with you. LIke something changed between us but I don't remember how. I wish I could." You gasp, squeezing onto his wrist and sitting up so fast your head spins, sheets and blankets pooling around your waist.

"That's exactly what it feels like!" You cry, relief coursing through your veins for the first time in two months. "But it also feels like . . . the things that used to be important to me are so trivial now. Like we faced something so much bigger than ourselves previously and now I can't force myself to fit back into society's expectations of me." He smiles a little sadly at that with another nod, eyes shining with recognition. He feels that way too.

Chishiya gently pulls his wrist from your tight grasp, looping his arms around your waist instead and pulling you to sit in his lap. You'd expect your body to stiffen against the foreign contact, but find yourself melting instantly into him. Your mind and body suddenly more relaxed than you've felt since the day at the museum, loving the way your body molds against his in a perfect fit. The way that he looks up at you now with reverance, warm hands tenderly skimming your waist and ribcage, gives you the confidence to continue talking through the thoughts that had been plaguing you.

"I can't just walk around normally when I have to carry the weight of whatever this is," you say with a sigh, not having the right words to explain this feeling, but hoping that he understands anyway. "I've been trying to figure it out since it happened."

One of his hands moves from your waist to cradle your jaw between lean fingers, gently forcing your gaze to lock with his. Each one of you are suddenly searching for answers in the other's eyes, desperately seeking something. Apparently, Chishiya finds what he's looking for because he pulls your face dangerously closer to his, making your heart thunder against your ribcage from the proximity.

"Then let me help you carry it until we figure things out. Together," he whispers, his warm breath ghosting across your mouth as he studies you through lidded eyes. He hesitates, giving you a chance to back away; to put distance between if you want it. Breathlessly, you answer, afraid to shatter the sanctity of this moment you've been waiting for forever, "Shiya? What are we doing?"

"What do you want to be doing?" He asks, an easy grin brightening his face as he remains centimeters from you, gaze flickering down to your lips briefly. You know exactly what you'd like to be doing. Your eyes flutter shut as a wave of courage surges through your body, making the decision for you. Hesitantly at first, you press your lips against Chishiya's to test the waters. When he responds fervently, hands desperately trying to pull you closer to him, you tangle your fingers into his soft blonde hair and shift yourself to straddle him completely.

His plush lips move expertly against yours, the sensation feeling surprisingly comfortable, almost familiar to you. Like you'd spent hours of time mapping every inch of each other's mouths, though you were certain you would remember if you had. Chishiya cards his long fingers through your hair, cradling your head and pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. His tongue slides over your bottom lip, causing you to gasp; his tongue taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth. He tastes sweet like strawberries, and you nearly laugh at just how perfect this man is.

You feel dizzy, Chishiya's sweet taste compounding with his familiar clean scent overwhelming you as your kiss begins to take a desperate turn. Your hips involuntarily rock against his, the feeling of his hardened member making you whine against his lips. Suddenly, images of a different world come flooding back to you. One in which you were constantly in a fight for your life, held tightly and protected by the man currently underneath you. A world where this very man had already professed his love for you, finally taking you to bed with him and delivering you greater pleasure than you'd ever known.

"Shiya . . ." you murmur against his lips breathlessly, trying to find the words to describe the memories you had just seen like a movie of your own life. What you knew is undeniably what really happened while you were unconscious. He pulls back with a smile, eyes studying your face as his thumbs dance affectionately across your cheeks. The man in front of you nods emphatically, whispering, "I know, I saw it too. It's about time."

"We've done this before . . . done other things before," you murmur, pink dusting your cheeks as you think about the erotic flashes you'd seen. "I wish I could remember what it was like." He nods, peppering kisses down your jawline and neck, gently guiding you to lie down against the fluffy pillows. He leans over you, hands following the curve of your waist, coming to rest down on your hips as he plays with the hem of your shirt.

"Let me remind you?" He questions suggestively with a low growl, his tone shooting straight to your core and lighting your body on fire for him.

You do let him, several times.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

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“Oh! Fiddlefeathers!” Sky Chime murmured as she lifted her wing to fly up to her bedroom window where Dinky and Rosy were waiting upstairs for her to come back from setting out the bins after dinner. Looking down at her feathers she saw a very distinct and very incriminating smudge of makeup. It was her very first sleepover and while she had been looking forward to sharing this milestone with her new friends, that made this much more difficult.

She didn’t mean to lie to her new friends, it just sort of… happened. She had been the first in her class to earn her cutie mark way back when. She had earned her cutie mark way early for being a musical prodigy, earlier than any filly she knew in Fillydelphia. Or Cloudsdale. Or Baltimare. Or anywhere else… and showing that fact off made ponies her age hate her. So two towns down she had taken to covering her mark. It never mattered before, because she always left those towns after only a few weeks. It just helped her fly under the radar. To go unnoticed. That was how she liked it unless she was performing…

Hiding her cutie mark hadn’t been an issue until Ponyville. Until they decided to put down roots for longer this time while Sky honed her talents under Madame Octavia. Until she had made friends with the only other “blankflanks” in her new class and the whole point of their friendship was to find cutie marks together. So now, Sky reasoned to herself, hiding it as long as she can would be the best option.

Looking around to make sure no one had seen, she quickly adjusted her feathers over her cutie mark, hiding it from view before deciding to slowly walk up to her front door instead. Luckily, she thought to herself, her pajamas would hide her flank until morning when they got ready for school and she could reapply her makeup then. She felt a growing pit of guilt in her stomach… but she feared that if she were to tell the truth to make it go away, she’d lose her first ever real friends… so, she supposed, she’d just have to learn to live with the guilt.

It wouldn’t be forever. Just until Ditzy and Rosy got their cutie marks too.

She’s not worried about earning her cutie mark because she already has it.

Cutie Mark Reveal / Explanation / Design Process Below:

Okay so, Sky Chime has her cutie mark already. Why? Well, one, I never liked the CMC receiving their marks together. I like the idea of each individually receiving their cutie marks at their own pace. These are a metaphor for puberty/maturity/growing up/self discovery right? Well not everyone does that at the same pace as their friends. The Mane Six I can excuse because they’re all different ages so they did earn it at different paces just with the same catalyst. CMC though… I never felt thats what they needed. For all the show claims they still do their own thing just share a destiny it feels like they’ll always be the Cutie Mark Crusaders rather than that being something that helped them grow into their own separate beautiful unique destinies. Almost like the show itself didn’t trust those three to stay friends post earning their cutie marks.

That being said, I have an idea that once the final mark is earned by whoever goes last, they discover together something about how an aspect of their talents is helping others see their own talents for their true meaning and the Cutie Quest Fillies cutie marks CHANGE a bit to reflect that. For example, the color of the tear drop chimes might change to be each of her friends colors or something. Because the people we love do have an impact on how we grow. So that might be something.

Okay so if Rosy Posy and Dinky Doo represent being somewhat behind your age for whatever reason development wise, Sky Chime represents being somewhat ahead and all the ways it can make you also feel different. All the ways you might feel like holding yourself back because you want to be where everyone else is. Everyone strives for being grown up until you’re the very first one to do it and then it seems like they judge you for beating them to the finish line.

And when you’re going through that you might not feel ready for the finish line. Sky is hiding this big part of herself to fit in and to feel like a kid again and keep her friends. She’s advanced for her age, a prodigy and a talent and she likes collecting antiques and whatnot. She already feels like marehood is coming for her way sooner than she wants. So she hides. And she feels bad because unlike in every other town, here in Ponyville she’s lying for ages. Very anxious pegasus our Sky Chime.

Sky being a changeling was a popular theory and I’d love some fanfic about that AU within an AU but, crucially, I wanted to try not to do harmful aspects from the canon show into this AU unless it is meant to say something about the ponies and I think having Sky being so protective of her secretly being another species would play into a lot of the unremarked upon species prejudice in the show. That being said actually someone get on some Changeling Sky I’d love to see it!!!