#it'll start snowing but he doesn't want to get down just yet

[meownotgood]

quiet dream. / dan heng x reader, 18+, smut, reader is fem bodied, grinding, thigh-fucking, fingering, creampie, soft dan heng, reader is super needy, dan heng offers to help when you can't sleep. word count: 4.7k

You can't sleep. 

It's a realization you've slowly come to after waking up in the middle of the night several times in a row, but it really starts to hit you like a truck after the fourth. This time, you don't even bother to try and close your eyes again. You just sigh, twist onto your back, and stare begrudgingly at the shadows on the ceiling. 

You want to get some rest, you really do. You know you're going to need it. You can't let exhaustion affect your performance on such a difficult and important mission. But no matter how hard you try, it's damn near impossible to sleep when every time you start to drift off, you get interrupted by dark visions and terrible nightmares and loud voices you don't recognize echoing inside your head. 

It's been plaguing you ever since you first set foot in Belobog. You were almost starting to think you were losing it. Perhaps this hotel is cursed. Or maybe not, since none of your comrades seem to be suffering from the same fate. 

You stumbled out of your room and saw your teammates already waiting for you in the hall. March chuckles and tells you she had a nice dream about making snow angels with Pom Pom. Dan Heng doesn't look up from his phone as he answers, I didn't have any dreams. 

So it's just you. 

At this point, you've tried absolutely everything — you've made yourself comfortable in every position you can think of, you've got up and paced around hoping it'd relieve some of your energy, you've tossed and turned and yet still, nothing has helped. No, no, you can't take this, you have to do something. When your missions are only getting more and more difficult, you're going to need all the energy you can get. You can't go another night without sleeping. 

Your brain spins with ideas of possible solutions. You can't get any medicine, it's way past the time for any stores to be open. Can't get any food or something to drink either. You don't feel like bothering March 7th, she'll just babble on and on and keep you up even further. Sitting here alone in silence though, with nothing but the idle hum of the passing train cars to keep you company does nothing but make your insomnia worse. 

When it comes down to it, there's only one last idea you can think of. 

You fling the covers away from your face and sit up to plant both your feet on the ground. You open the door to your room as slowly as you can to keep it from creaking, and you carefully make your way down the hall, rounding the corner, to the first room on your left. Sucking in a nervous breath, you raise your knuckle and knock, but when there's no response after a few seconds, you twist the doorknob and invite yourself inside. 

The blankets shuffle and Dan Heng lifts his head immediately, hair messy and eyes squinted as they adjust to the sudden flood of light. He seems to relax, tense shoulders slumping once he realizes it's only you. 

"What happened?" His voice is rough and laced with tiredness, but he's sitting up further, and he's getting right to the point, "Are you okay?" 

"Nothing, I'm fine. Relax." You raise your hands defensively and gently close the door behind you with your heel. It clicks shut. "I can't sleep, so I figured I'd stay with you for a bit. If that's okay." 

Dan Heng eyes you up and down, considering, before he flops back onto the bed with a quiet sigh, the mattress bouncing from the sudden weight. 

"Sorry, I'll leave if you want me to." 

"No," He retorts sternly, shaking his head, his response catching you a little off guard. Is he really okay with this? 

Much to your surprise, he continues, "It's fine, I understand. Here." Then, he shifts, turning over and onto his side to make some space next to him. "You can sleep with me if you think it'll help." 

Quickly, without giving him a chance to change his mind, you make your way over, and Dan Heng lifts the covers so you can crawl in. You aren't used to seeing him like this; his hair all ruffled, his clothes casual, just a blank t-shirt and sweats. When you settle in and he leans his head onto the fluffy white pillow, you swear you catch him trying to stifle a yawn. 

Honestly, you really didn't expect him to let you in so easily, either. You haven't known him for very long, but you're somewhat familiar with each other, to the point you'd consider him your friend, but Dan Heng's a private sort of person. He's a bit stiff, a bit hard to talk with — You like him, you really do. You like those parts of him. You like the way he's serious and smart and strong, how he's much kinder than he appears. 

You like the way his nose scrunches when he's focused on something. You like how he cares for you awkwardly but earnestly, slipping his jacket off of his arms and draping it over your shoulders when you first arrived to Jarilo-VI and said you felt cold. He cleared his throat and glanced away, muttering something half-hearted like, Just thank me later. 

The thing is, despite all that, despite everything he's done for you, you can't seem to figure out the way he feels. Dan Heng is the most impossible person you think has ever existed. 

And right now, even though he's invited you to come lay next to him, you still can't decide, and your brain is a little too scrambled to really start thinking about it. 

He's already shut his eyes again, his face is close, wisps of dark hair messy. His chest rises and falls, up and down. 

"Did I wake you up?" 

He cracks his eyes back open when he hears you speak once more. 

"Yes." Dan Heng answers bluntly, and if you weren't feeling so shitty right now you might've just chuckled. 

"Sorry." 

"Don't worry about it." The smallest specs of golden light cast from the street lamps outside reflect in his gaze. "I wasn't upset. I'm more concerned about you. Why can't you sleep?"

"Mmm," You look away, shrugging your shoulders, "Bad dreams." 

"Nightmares, huh?" 

Yeah, he'd surely know a thing or two about that. Though, strangely, he hasn't had any bad dreams since arriving in Belobog. Maybe it's because the plush hotel beds are way comfier than his little setup on the Astral Express, he figures. 

The exhaustion in your tone doesn't lie: "They've been happening ever since we got here. And it's not a regular thing, it's the first time I've had so many dreams like this and… they're relentless." 

If the room was a little less dim, and if you were paying just a little more attention, you might have caught the way Dan Heng's expression starts to soften. 

"I'm sorry. I wonder if there's a reason for it. Something with the environment here." He says. You let your eyes close at the sound of his voice. "I'll check the data bank tomorrow. I researched Jarilo-VI thoroughly before we came here, and I don't remember anything like that in any of the submissions, but… I suppose I might've missed it." 

You snuggle into the pillow, your body feels warm and light; Dan Heng's presence alone provides you with comfort, and you're already starting to drift off. You silently hope to yourself that this will be the last time, and then you murmur in response, "Dunno. I'm tired, you can tell me about it later." 

"Right." Dan Heng answers. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight." 

Dan Heng is losing his mind. 

When you first stumbled into his room, he didn't think anything of it. He knows how difficult nightmares can be, especially the ones that seem to be affecting you. Until now, he's never seen you so troubled. He doesn't have a problem keeping you company — you'd do the same for him, and he knows that.

The first time, you managed to drift off for an hour or so. He stayed awake for a while to watch over you, and when you ended up waking up from another bad dream, Dan Heng slung an arm around you, he rubbed your back with his palm and tried to mutter something into your ear to help you fall asleep: some boring story he learned from the archives.

But you were quick to wake again. And again, and again. Nothing worked, trying his best to help you has only served to make him just as restless as you are, and right now you, you're just —

"Dan Heng, please." 

You say his name in a voice so pleading, so sweet and sugary it takes nearly everything he has to struggle to resist. A warm blaze of heat rushes to every corner of his face, his breath is hot and thick, the slightest bit shaky when it fans over the expanse of your neck. In your tossing and turning, you've chosen to face away from him now, with your back pressed deft to his chest. Dan Heng wonders how strongly you can feel the thudding of his heart. 

The proximity alone is enough to get his heart pounding — you're so warm, so close, he can't take it — but each and every word you say makes it so much worse, and you keep shifting back, you keep pressing into him and you just have to know what you're doing. 

"You're still awake." 

Dan Heng breathes the words into your ear, his voice as still as he can get it. Matter-of-fact, just an observation. Not acknowledging anything but not ignoring you either. Exactly as you'd expect him to respond. 

Softly, barely audible, you grumble back a simple response: "Yeah." 

"Get some rest."

You back up into him a bit more, your ass rubs against his groin, right there; you both sigh in unison, yours of relief, his more like exasperation. 

Dan Heng grips you hard, fingers curled into your side. "Stop it." 

"I can't, I can't fall asleep like this. You're so stubborn." You huff, and you sound honest with that, you're seemingly breathless already. 

It's half his fault this is happening. He'll take some of the blame. Perhaps he shouldn't have held you so close earlier. When your breathing got faster, when you hugged him tighter, maybe it was wrong of him to let his lips ghost over your neck, or his palms drift over your thighs. 

He wasn't trying to take things this far, he's never had any bad intentions. He's the one in the wrong for getting carried away. You were just so close, and Dan Heng hasn't been able to stop his heart from pounding for hours now. 

It wouldn't be the first time he's thought more with his heart than his brain. Stupid. 

He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry." 

He's realizing he's weaker than he thought he was, he's more obvious about his feelings for you than he intended. He has to be stubborn, but he's already failed, because you've gone and found him out. Now, you know. 

You know, because you're gripping his arm with an urgency, you're twisting around and forcing him to meet your desperate eyes while your free hand finds and fiddles with the loose drawstrings of his sweatpants. 

Dan Heng, please fuck me. 

God, how can you say that without even hesitating? His head is spinning. He feels dizzy, he feels like this isn't really happening.

"You're- that's enough." He presses his hand to your shoulder and shoves, but clearly with no force behind it. You don't budge. 

"How many more times?" Your warm fingers are working their way under the hem of his pants now, teasing his bare skin ever-so slightly, "How many more times do I have to ask?" 

How much longer, because you know he's going to give in. 

"I-" Dan Heng looks away, anywhere but where you're staring at him. He breathes a long, heavy sigh out from his mouth. There's an ache in his chest he can't possibly shake, and an even harder throb between his legs. 

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. You don't have protection. You're not even dating. 

One hand twists up to hold the back of his neck, and when the other brushes down to squeeze the bulge of his stiffening cock through his sweats, Dan Heng starts to forget about all the things he'd better not do. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, and with eyes half-open, he looks towards you again, finally. "You think it'll help you sleep?" 

You nod, "Mhmm." 

"And you're okay with that? This is really what you want?" 

"Yes, it is, I'm sure," You say, you're starting to tug his sweats from his hips and his breath is hitching and stuttering in his throat, "I can't wait any longer. I need you." 

Dan Heng gives himself just one more moment to attempt to compose himself. Your thumbs brush the space just underneath his hip bones, and he takes an unconvincing deep breath in. Then, he's placing his hand on your chest and gently pushing you back; the hotel bed creaks, the mattress shifts and the sheets rustle as he slowly climbs on top of you. 

"Need is a strong word," Fingers grasped around the hem, he makes quick work of shedding his t-shirt. The crisp night air is colder than he thought. The dim light casts most of his face in shadow. "What's got you like this?" 

"You want it with me just as badly, don't you?" 

You've dodged the question. But you aren't wrong. 

"Just this once." Dan Heng affirms, "We won't bring it up again." 

One time. That'll be enough. If he's lucky, you'll save him the embarrassment and remember this as just another dream. 

When it comes to you, he's just too weak. 

"Dan Heng-"

There it is again, you're saying his name in a tone reserved just for him — Dan Heng gasps, he fucks up into you a little harder, he rams right into your sweet spot and you grasp his forearm to steady yourself, his muscles firm when you squeeze. The sound of skin against skin along with the rhythmic creak of the bed echo around the walls of the small hotel room. Arm wrapped around your stomach, you're on your side, and his body curls around yours, his head leant on your shoulder, hand tightly gripping the fat of your thigh. 

Sweat coats his skin, his head feels hazy, thoughts dreamy. By now, he's come to lose any semblance of lucidity he once had, any hope of not taking things any further. But when he's buried all the way inside you, he's hardly even come to realize.

His voice feels sore and tired, but he still manages to mumble into your ear, "Say it again." 

And you do, you say his name once more, twice more. Dan Heng fucks his cock right into that perfect spot for the hundredth time and you're cooing each syllable for him even louder. 

"S-Shit, you-" He interrupts himself with a gasp for breath, "You feel so amazing, I'm- I can't," He never sounds like this, so needy and awestruck. A soft moan uttered right into the nape of your neck, then, "I'm gonna cum again." 

Your fingers clench the sheets tighter, your breath comes out in short pants, "Wanna hear you say my name too, Dan Heng-"

His arms are shaking, and once he teeters over the edge he's practically biting down on your shoulder to keep himself from getting too loud; he focuses less on hitting the right spot and more on getting off, his thrusts into you become sloppy and clumsy and erratic. As he cums, chanting your name with each fragile breath, he just barely manages to find a moment of clarity, slipping out to fist his cock and empty all over the sheets. 

His heart thuds incessantly in his ears, drowning out everything else. He's gasping, wiping his hand off on the sheet, resting his forehead onto your shoulder and swallowing to keep his throat from drying up. 

"You alright?" Of course, your well-being is the first thing Dan Heng is concerned about. 

"I'm fine," You answer immediately. 

Dan Heng stays quiet for a few agonizingly long seconds. Slowly, he guides his half-hard cock to your thighs, he slides it in between them and feels it start to throb and pulse with need again once you squirm, adjusting to give him more room to work with. 

Warm, you're so warm, he closes his eyes and thrusts forwards and he's already thinking about how it's going to feel so much better when he puts it back inside you. 

"Sorry, what am I doing?" Dan Heng suddenly freezes, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He's absolutely losing his mind. "I'll stop. I'll stop if you want me to." 

"Don't," You reply, and he finds it difficult to object, "I want to keep going, come here." 

You're twisting around then, pulling away from him and shifting onto your back, splaying your arms above your head and blinking away whatever exhaustion is starting to form behind your eyelids. Dan Heng is quick to follow suit, settling into his familiar spot on top of you. 

He raises his hand, and he lets his knuckles brush tenderly over the side of your cheek. "You sure? You're still not tired?" 

Your response comes in the form of a hasty shake of your head and an eager grab of his arm. 

It's been like this for hours now. Dan Heng gives you what you want, you're satisfied for a bit until you beg and coax him into giving you more. The faintest hints of sunlight are starting to creep past the curtains now, and as much as Dan Heng is trying to hold on to his sanity as best as he can, he's really starting to think he's past the point of no return. 

How is he supposed to face you tomorrow? Hell, tomorrow is already practically here, and yet he still can't stop. 

He keeps telling himself the two of you need to calm down — but as you're gripping his hand, as you're pressing his fingertips over your swollen clit, dragging them down and getting them nice and wet on your arousal, his heart is once again caught in his throat and all he can do is listen. 

Dan Heng's whole body shivers. He gives you exactly what you want; he sinks his fingers into you knuckle-deep, he pumps them in and out to a slow and careful rhythm, slick sounds ringing in his ears. 

"Dan-" 

He quirks his fingers up and presses them right where they belong, and you can't manage to get out the other half of his name. 

"More?" Like he already knows what you're going to say, he pulls his fingers out before he even sees you nod, just like that. 

His palms find your waist, he holds you with shaking hands as if you're delicate. Shiny, wet precum is already budding at his slit, and he aligns his hips to press the needy tip of his dick to your entrance. His bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as he's sliding in, just barely, stretching you with just the fat tip of his cock; the rest of him aches, his eyelids flutter and he groans, he can't move. He can't, or he already won't last. 

Please, Dan Heng. Put it in all the way. 

You're greedy, so ridiculously insatiable. He doesn't blame you though. He can't. 

Here you are, always so kind to him, always asking so nicely. Always saying please, always loyal, always sticking by his side. Begging for him, all for him. He'd be stupid not to give you everything — everything you ask for, and every last second in the stretch of this infinite universe. 

Because you're special to him. You mean more to him than he'd ever be able to admit. And after being cooped up in the Astral Express for so long, after so much running and running and never finding his place, after never having time for anything like this and never realizing how badly he needed it, he knows he's even worse. 

It fits in so easy when he finally slides all the way in, like he was meant to be there. He stays still at first, taking deep breaths, getting used to the feeling. He's sensitive, way too sensitive. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on you. He rolls his shoulders backwards, waits for the moment you start to impatiently squirm. And then, he pulls back only to press all the way in; he starts up a gentle rhythm, taking things slow, fucking you nice and softly. 

Even just his shallow thrusts feel heavenly. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, you're warm all over from head to toe. You're a second away from choking out a plea for him to go harder, but Dan Heng seems to read your mind before you've spoken a single word. 

You're pretty when you're underneath him, pretty face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his. It's a pretty sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before. 

You've always been pretty in his eyes. But more than anything, he wants to see how pretty you'll look when he makes you fall apart. 

"You're getting loud," He mumbles, in that matter-of-fact way you've come to expect. He doesn't slow down though, doesn't give you a moment to breathe; he squeezes your thighs and rubs them with his palms. "If we keep going like this- they'll hear. You know that?" 

"Don't care," You can barely get out the words, your back takes on a tell-tale arch, "Let them. Just don't stop." 

Dan Heng isn't sure how thin these walls are. But in hindsight, it might be too late. The thought makes him feel dirty. He should have considered quieting down a long time ago. 

Forehead to forehead with you, his pace speeds up a little, a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. His hair is a thick, tangled mess, even messier when you reach up to run your fingers through; you grasp and tug, sending waves down his spine, and Dan Heng can't help but whimper. He bucks into you hard, desperately, and you can't do anything but claw at his back, leaving scrapes and marks of red. 

He's panting, his face is inches away from yours; he can't take it anymore. He starts with a single quiet please, and when you cup his cheek in your hand he's sighing and stammering without even thinking, "Please I- please kiss me, please please please-"

You pull him closer, he tilts his head and you shut him up as your lips connect for the first time tonight — Dan Heng kisses you softly, his lips plush, his heart flutters and flips. His first kiss with you, and it's so much more desperate than he expected, but he needs this too badly to take things slow. Your lips part and he's groaning, licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue. 

He takes the opportunity to grab your thigh, tossing your leg over his shoulder to give himself a better angle. He pistons in and out at a steady pace until you're about to snap, until everything else is melting away and you're focused on nothing but him. Until he gets carried away, the tip of his cock shoves in too deep, and you're tossing your head back, crying so loudly you're certain someone would hear. He feels so good you can't bother to care. 

"M'close," You're mumbling once he gives you a moment to breathe, dragging away from your lips to plant wet kisses onto your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Your fingertips drag along his back, you feel out the shape of his mismatched scars — you're whining even louder, begging for him to make you cum, and Dan Heng is really, really done for. 

He's thought himself to be somewhat of a strong person. Someone with a good resolve. Tonight, you're making him rethink everything. 

He's close too, movements getting sloppy, it's growing harder and harder for him to hold back how you make him feel. He's never felt like this, never been so desperate. Dan Heng's fingers twitch, he moans and wraps an arm around your back securely. He rests his head in your nape and sighs, breath warm and heavy on your skin. 

"I-" He hesitates, because even now, even after all this, he's nervous to speak; his chest heaves, his whole body's trembling. "I want to cum with you."

"Don't pull out, please Dan Heng, it feels so good, you're making me feel so good-" 

He shouldn't listen to you. But he will. And he won't even think twice. 

"Gonna cum," His shoulders tense, his voice nearly breaks, "F-Fuck, you're so sweet, I'm-" A stuttery whine, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming…" 

A few more sloppy thrusts and you're both done for. Wet sounds fill your ears, Dan Heng reaches up with an unsteady hand and grips the headboard to keep himself steady. When you cum, clenching hard and throbbing around his cock, chanting his name just as he hoped you would, Dan Heng has little pent-up tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he hastily covers your mouth with his free hand, your noises muffled on his palm. He's riding his high out with you and fucking you through it all, biting hard on his bottom lip to stay quiet, shamelessly spilling every drop of his spend inside. 

It takes a while for him to finally slow down, for his vision to unblur. He nearly collapses on top of you, and it takes him even longer to work up the strength to pull out. 

The early-morning sun shines even brighter through the curtains. His fingers slip over your cheek, they fiddle idly with your ear. He kisses your lips once before finally settling, rolling over next to you with his eyes already closed. 

"Dan Heng." 

He was hoping you'd managed to fall asleep, finally. He gives himself a second to regain some energy, and then with a huff, he lifts his head and props himself up on his elbows, meeting your eyes. 

"I don't want this to end." 

Your words catch him by surprise. Your genuine expression does even more so. 

"It won't," He concludes, earnest as ever. Your hands are splayed out above your head, clenching and unclenching, and he grips one to give you something to hold onto. "I'm not going anywhere. And I won't forget about this, or about you. I'll be here when you get up, do you think you can try and get some rest now? It's late." 

It's early, more so. 

You offer him a shallow nod in response, and Dan Heng wastes no time fluffing your pillow, pulling the covers over you, and giving you some space to curl up. He doesn't bother to find your clothes, he just tucks the blankets in around you and hopes that'll suffice for now. 

"I…" He gets comfy next to you, resting his head on his arm. "I don't want this to end either. I don't. I didn't even think it was happening for a while. I think… I think we should focus on our mission. We can't afford to get distracted. But when we're back on the Astral Express- Once we've got more time on our hands, we can talk about this. How's that?" 

You don't answer. He takes a few moments to realize you've stilled, your chest calmly rising and falling. 

"Are you asleep?" 

[bluesgrxce]

Yandere Trainer Red x Reader

[This is the final chapter of Red's story! No spoilers but I can just see the "Pikachu can't learn that move!!" comments from a mile away...]

Traveling up Mt. Silver has always been worse than traveling down it, but you keep telling yourself that it's not that bad; You've got a boyfriend to return to, and you just got back from a nice visit with his mother, her kind words still warming your heart in this freezing area. 

And yet they make your heart so heavy. Just like the bag weighing down on your back, which his mother had filled to the point that you could barely close it. Her words keep playing in your mind: "I know you'll take care of him. You're the only one who can now, since you're the only one who sees him anymore."

So you hoist the bag further up your back and trek through the pure white snow that crunches underneath your feet. At first, you do a good job of focusing on your surroundings, making sure some wild Pokemon doesn't jump you. Not that there's much of a reason for you to be intimidated of them. You own strong Pokemon, and if something goes wrong, Red will save you. 

...But will Red have calmed down by now? He walked away from you this morning without a single goodbye. What if he's still angry? Even though you start trying to tell yourself that's not possible, your pace slows down, as if trying to prolong this journey back home.. Well, back to the cave. 

'The cave.' Wow. That's your home. That's what Red wants you to think, anyway. Why are you putting up with this? Why are you letting him isolate you and act petty when you don't do exactly as he wants? What's wromg with you?

He needs you. You can't just leave him. He doesn't want anybody else in his life. He refuses to have anybody else in his life. He'll be completely alone without you and it'll be your fault if something happens to him. 

So what? This sucks. Why should you have to climb up a snowy mountain just to see your boyfriend? Why should you have to go through so much for him? You're sick of it. Sick of him.  

Ugh, how could you ever even think that? He adores you. He can make you feel so wanted if he really put effort into it, because you're the only one he's ever wanted. You'll never meet someone more loyal, caring, and protective than him. 

In mere moments, your spiraling thoughts make you lose all sense of your surroundings. 

Until you step into a patch of dark red snow. 

You pause. Then immediately step back.

Blood, your first thought as you examine your shoe. The residue of red snow clings to your sole. An overpowering wave of disgust crashes against you, but you resist the urge to claw the residue off. You examine the patch instead. It's not very big, appearing to be a bunch of drops that combine into a medium-sized puddle. 

But your gaze finds a trail of dots that lead towards a cliff on your right. Without much thought, you follow the trail until reaching the very tip of it. As morbid curiosity overrides your better judgment, you peer over the edge. 

...Well, damn, you can't see anything. You're so high up the mountain and the weather is so cruel, only a flurry of snow and fog can be seen from off this cliff. If you dropped something here, you'd never find it. Never. 

You take a sharp breath of icy air, tearing your gaze away from the cliff and back onto the path. Only to realize that the trail of red spots extends so much further than they first appeared to. As far as your eyes can see, patches of red snow outline the exact route you'll need to take to get home. 

Oh.

The blood's fresh. It's extremely fresh, because otherwise, a new layer of snow would already have covered it up

Oh.

Your heartbeat stops. It's like the cold finally got to you and froze your veins dead. Your heartbeat picks back up as you fight against the urge to hyperventilate. You lose your balance. 

Your foot slips off of the cliff.

But you scamper away from the edge just in time. Adrenaline pumps through your icy veins and makes them burst back to life as your mind tries to rationalize everything you've seen. Maybe it was a battle between wild Pokemon that went wrong. Maybe it got a bit too violent. 

Except that makes no sense. Wild Pokemon rarely fight each other to such injury, at least, not out in the open where trainers could easily interfere. At least that's still the option that's easier to believe, though. It's explainable by nature. The other option is only explainable by human cruelty. 

There's only one other person you know of on Mt. Silver.

You bolt back to the cave.

×××

A low hum rumbles through Red's chest as he breathes in the scent of your blanket. With his eyes shut like this, he can pretend the soft material is your skin, and its warmth is your body heat. Imagining that makes him clutch it against his chest like he's shielding you from the cold, as he often does. He's never been that bothered by it himself, but he couldn't live without the image of you holding onto him. He doesn't need anything else but that to make it through life.

"Red?!"

He flinches. Is that your voice? But you're back home too early. Much too early.

He hears your rapid footsteps echo across the cave walls before he sees you come into view. Your frantic expression makes him forget about everything else and drop the blanket, rushing over before you can say a word. You throw your hands onto his chest and he clutches your wrists. His dark eyes bore into you from under the brim of his hat, trying to predict the problem-- and figure out why you're holding onto his shirt so tightly.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" You ask with urgency.

He squints his eyes and tilts his head. His silence makes your hands roam around his body. Your gaze scrutinizes him. "Well? Are you okay or not?"

Your stern, impatient question makes him stand him straight. He continues to peer at you through squinted eyes until he spots the palms of your hands. He clenches his jaw. 

You quirk an eyebrow at that and take a look as well. Smudged blood seeps into your skin. 

When you open your mouth, his breath stops in his throat. 

When Blue opens his mouth, Red's breath stops in his throat. Heat rises in his body and affects every bit of him-- Including his hands that grip and clench around nothing, his shoulders that tense to the point that its painful, and his teeth that grind together so much that it's like they're about to shatter. Each word that Blue says carries no value in Red's mind, only igniting one thing within him, an urge that he needs to satisfy. 

"My gramps told me not to get involved, but there's no way I'm gonna let you hold them hostage up here like this, not anymore." Blue releases a cocky laugh. "You seriously think they wanna live like this? Get real. You know they deserve better than this."

Red shoves his fists in his pockets. It's his last attempt to stop himself from doing something that can't be undone.

"I came back up here by myself to be a pal and give it to you straight, since they keep making excuses for you. You gotta move back down to Pallet Town, or at least get off of this mountain! You can't live like this forever!" When Red doesn't give any sort of response, Blue continues, "You know they'll go anywhere you go. You know that and you're taking advantage of that! You're just trying to keep them to yourself!"

Red advances forward and leers at him. He smirks and takes out a Pokeball.  "You wanna do this the hard way?" 

...That's not quite what Red has in mind. But he can work with it. 

Even as his breath hitches, Red's steady gaze never falters. He notes how your eyes dart back and forth between your bloody hands and his shirt with mismatched splotches on it. The color difference was so subtle that anyone could miss it. Your knees start shaking, so he grasps your hands to ensure you won't fall, ignoring how the blood wipes off on his skin too. You flinch like he's hurting you.

The issue and the solution are clear. He needs to clean you off.

He peeks over your shoulder and spots the heavy bag on your back. Though it's a hassle to make your petrified self cooperate, he eventually tugs it off and reaches inside until he finds a water bottle. He drops the bag with a harsh thud against the cave floor. 

You jump at the noise. He grimaces. Only then does it hit him that the bottle is ice cold. He reaches into his own nearby bag so he can use Charizard to heat it up. He does so without looking, so he accidentally pulls out Pikachu's Pokeball instead. His eyebrows furrow together. 

Pikachu hesitates when it sees the look on Red's face, how his eyes twitch and his lips form a scowl. Its eyes become sad as it looks back and forth between Blue and his Blastoise. It keeps trying to settle its gaze on Blastoise, but Red corrects it everytime with the gesture of his head. 

Finally, Pikachu settles its gaze on Blue. Then it gives one last look at its trainer. He nods. After a moment of silence, it does as previously instructed.

Pikachu uses Cut. Over and over and over again. 

Red doesn't even look at Blue as he screams. His mind is far too enamoured with thoughts of you, only you, leaving him completely undeterred as dark red blood crashes against the snow.

Red shakes his head clear. He brings Charizard out and in mere seconds, the bottle's ready. He triple checks to make sure it's not scalding hot, before pushing it into your trembling hands. He goes to retrieve the blanket so he can wrap it around your shoulders and give you the comfort you need. 

But the blanket is damp to the touch. He looks down and sees even more blood staining the otherwise clean fabric. His grimace deepens, but he simple drops it to the ground like he did with your bag. Looks like he'll have to find a way to do laundry again. 

Red's shirt feels damp against his chest as he trudges down the mountain. He ignores it, instead wishing there was a nearby Pokemon Center so he could at least get a Machamp from his Pokemon Box to take on this heavy weight in his arms. But Pikachu had already starting hiding from him in its Pokeball and refused to come out. He rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal with more dumb things like that. 

He comes to a stop. He looks around until he spots a cliff, immediately heading towards it. He hurls Blue's body into the abyss. Then, he reaches into his bag, and drops Blue's items the same way. He doesn't hesitate even when only Blue's Pokeballs are left. With each Pokemon still trapped inside, he drops them one by one and watches them as they disappear into the fog. He never hears them land. 

He turns away and walks back.

"This isn't your blood."

Red's eyes widen momentarily before he looks back at you. Growing realization crosses your face as you gape at him. Disgust takes over your expression, as if you're wondering how you didn't notice just how bloody he is before. How dirty he is. How cruel he is. 

But he chooses not to acknowledge you, like he's done many times before. He takes the water bottle back, flinging the cap behind him, and snatches your wrist. 

"What happened?" You ask as he pours the warm water over your hand. 

Silence. And yet you don't know when to quit.

"Red."

He switches to your other hand to wash it off as well.

"Red."

He starts switching back and forth between your hands. He scrubs the creases of your palms to get out the stubborn spots. Roughly. Like he's trying to scratch your skin off. 

"Red, please!"

He doesn't stop until the bottle is empty and your hands are numb. A puddle of bloody water pools at your shoes now, though neither of you pay much attention to that. He keeps his gaze trained on your hands, which he still holds so tightly. The brim of his hat covers his face so you can only see him frown. 

But then he pulls you into a hug. Except it doesn't feel like one. His arms smother you, his fingers dig into your flesh, and his stature does everything it can to swallow you whole. This isn't a hug. This isn't what it should be like. 

You look around the cave. This isn't what a home should be like. You look at him. This isn't what a relationship should be like. But at this point, it doesn't seem like there's anything you can do about it. He needs you here, after all. 

You start sobbing. Red rubs your back as your tears mix with the blood on his shirt. He stares into the distance, looking out the cave entrance to see the beautiful isolation that is Mt. Silver. It removes all of the meaningless distractions so there's nothing else to rely on except each other. As it should always be. 

His touch grows possessive when he spots the bloody trail outside your home. Tainting the pure snow of this mountain, of your love, of your soul was never on his agenda. But Blue came to ruin everything for him, so it's what he had to do. And if anybody else dares to do the same, he'll do it again without a second thought. He'll paint everything red if that's what it takes to keep you with him alone.  

When he can do things like this to prove his devotion, words are unnecessary. This is all he needs to do in order for him to say 'I love you.' 

× × ×

Lol just killed my problematic fave off, but it's okay, he would've killed Red too in a different universe. He actually did, if you know that one pokepasta... Blue Tears my beloved like yes king go kill more people 😍

[mellosdrawings]

i loved seeing your character sheets for yuu and hayeli, especially hayeli’s!! it’s clear that a lot of thought went into them and i think his on/off mode is such an interesting concept (also a pomefiore student with blemishes?? yes please!!)

i’d be super curious what your creation process looked like, i.e if where there concepts you scrapped or how you went about choosing a name for them (it’s just a topic i love talking and hearing about but of course you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to :])

not me also having ideas for an oc with mirror magic, but based on the mirror from the snow queen instead

First I'm so glad you like my characters! It seems Hayeli's bad skin is very popular and I love it! Give me more teenagers with bad skin and not making a huge deal out of it please!

As for my process... dear, that'll be a long post.

General process

Ok so my general character creation process starts with two ways:

1. I have a role to fill in a story that can't be fulfilled by a pre-existing character

2. I have a vibe and I need to turn it into a character

From those needs and/or wants, I'll go through several steps:

1. Age: surprisingly deciding on a character's age first unlocks at least half of its mental and physical design. Is it an adult who already has its shit together or a teen in the middle of a crisis?

2. Vague personality: is the character going to be introvert or extrovert? Shy or outgoing. Proud or self depreciating. Bubbly or quiet. Easy to anger or chill. It doesn't need to be its full personality yet, just guidelines.

3. Race: for fantasy and realism. A character's skin color and cultural background will shape how they view the world a lot!

4. Gender and sexual orientation: i usually decide on the gender based on how many characters I already have of each gender, or whether I want a character to be traditionally feminine/masculine or the total opposite of what's expected. Obviously the gender will affect the design, but the orientation will also affect how the character reacts to others.

5. Assets & weaknesses: for fantasy, it'd be their powers and their shortcomings, for action it'll be their strengths and the things they haven't mastered yet, for romance it'll be their best personality trait and their worst.

Once I have that base guideline, I can start working on a chara design. Age and race help with the body, personality and strengths/weaknesses help with how they dress and present themselves. (An outgoing person will have an easier time dressing in original ways while a shy person would be more traditional for example.)

Once I have a design, I draw shitty little doodles and meme redraws until I have a better sense of their personality. Slices of life and comedy and angst are great way for me to get to know my character. For writers, it'd be writing random scenes to test the characters' reactions.

Then, I double down on the strengths and weaknesses. Make them stand out. Make sure they are coherent to the characters. Make sure the weaknesses are as important as the strength. (For example, I have a character who has super speed. Arguably one of the most cheated powers in existence. I counterbalanced it by giving him poor stamina. In theory he is all powerful. In practice, not so much.)

Lastly, I chose a name. Sometimes it's just about how the name sounds. Sometimes I'm looking for names to mean something. If your character is POC, think about whether they'd have a common name or a name from their own culture. Both are valid but you need to think about it! (For example, I have two maohi characters in the same story. One is called Fray (common name), the other is called Tanemahuta (maohi name) because they and their families have different relationships with their own culture.)

Yuu

Well, that's a strange one since Yuu already does exist in the game, but it's a blank slate, a place holder. Let's make them something worth remembering, shall we.

First, I went with their gender. Most of my placeholders characters end up nonbinary because that's what I am and also I can't be bothered to role-playing gender when playing a simple game.

Then I went with a vibe and a bullet list of things I wanted to keep from the game and things I wanted to add.

To keep:

1. Not very proactive

2. Not very talkative

To add:

1. Raccoon

2. Clever/cunning

3. Physically rather weak

From there I made a design that gave "raccoon vibes". Semi long disheveled hair, lazy eyes, lazy dress up.

Now, what was important was to make up for their weakness: they don't have magic. The world around them is harsh and they get threatened by characters having breakdowns every two months. What is there strength? For Yuu, I wanted them to be clever and cunning. Have them actually outsmart our dear schemers. That's Yuu's one and only strength, they're a schemer themself. They see others as cards that make up their hands the same way Leona sees others as chess pieces. Once you have those big pieces from earlier plus the survival instinct, you get a character that is easy to handle. They don't talk much, keep everything to themselves, manipulate others from the shadows to defend themself.

But. Let's give them one more weakness, shall we? It's funnier that way. Let's make them yearn for connection. They are a teen who got kidnapped from their family. Let's give them a big family. But they are rather independent too, so let's find a way to remove the parents from the picture to explain why they are already able to fend for themself. Now make them yearn for real friendship. Make it obvious their manipulation comes from defensiveness. Have them slip up when they interact with people they genuinely end up caring about.

And there you have Yuu.

Hayeli

Now, for Hayeli, I started out with a vibe. He's actually pretty old, comes from before the game was even released when there were only countdown arts and some vague informations about the game. As I said in his description, he's based on the Evil Queen's mirror. I didn't know at the time there were already plenty of mirrors in the game haha

Contrary to my usual process, I started with his powers first. His Signature Spell had to be something about mirrors. The easy way out would be to have him shape-shifting. There are plenty of angst and fun opportunities from shape-shifting. But that was too simple, I didn't like it. Instead I went with the capacity to copy others' magic. In game there was already Azul being able to steal others' magic through a high requirement spell, so I went with this kind of power. High requirement high reward. I don't like for my characters to be overpowered and I wanted Hayeli to just be average in magic, so I doubled down on the requirements to make his magic near useless.

Then I went on to his gimmick. He still didn't have a personality or body at the time, I really went full mirror first. Hayeli is a mirror. He copies others' magic. What if I double down and make him copy everything as a by-product of his Signature Spell? Ok, now, since I still don't like overpowered characters, how do I make it ruin his life?

And so we come to the problem of his personality: he doesn't have one. He's a blank slate. A mirror. He reproduces others' behaviors and mannerisms and personalities and he has no control over it. He has no idea who he is himself. The angst creates itself.

Once there, it was easy process for the rest. Make him a body. Average size since he's just a copy of others. Pomefiore attitude and presentation since he's in Pomefiore. I like curly hair and there aren't enough of them in Twisted Wonderland so I went with that, but they couldn't be long since Yuu already has semi long curly hair.

I still needed one way to recognize him. Make him pop amongst the other characters. What makes Hayeli physically Hayeli?

1. Moles. So many moles.

2. Bad skin. He's in Pomefiore? Do the contrary of what's expected there. Give him a malleable standard face and add bad skin to it.

3. Strange eyes. He's a mirror who can reproduce everything he sees. His eyes are important. Make them pale like mirrors, make his pupils white to reflect others, make the shape a bit blurry as if the mirror isn't perfect.

And there you have Hayeli's body!

Oh. A name? Google translate, please tell me how to say mirror in different languages please. Mirror in Armenian is "Hayeli", I like the sound of it. Sold. So Hayeli shall be Armenian irl, that'd probably be on the frontiers of the Scalding Sands (thanks a friend for helping me with that part), so maybe I should make his skin darker. Besides, dark skins in a dorm that values beauty is also not the first idea people get. Sold!

(Somewhere during the process, I actually had an objective with Hayeli. "Make him represent Teenagehood itself". Teenagehood is a particularly difficult period, teenagers try to become their own person independently from their parents. They copy each other and all the people they look up to to find what suits them best, but they also hate not being able to tell who they are as a person. Hayeli represents that struggle, and that's also why I gave him a heavy bout of acne and red cheeks and baby fat but a lean body. Teenagehood isn't pretty, and it shouldn't be. Hayeli is awkward, his body is morphing a lot, he has no idea who he is or who he wants to become, he copies others without realizing. But he also has a lot of fun. He cheats at tests, he bothers his classmates and dormmates, he has fun with makeup, he tries a lot of new things. While Yuu was meant to represent survival, Hayeli is meant to represent teenagehood, for better and for worse.)

There you have all of Hayeli's creation process.

TLDR: Mostly I just... don't go with the very first thought I get. Do you know that Pixar or maybe Disney process where they give up on the first dozen ideas they get because it's too "normal" and easy to guess? It has its flaws but I think it's not that bad. I go with the contrary of what's expected (dark bad skin for a dorm that represents beauty) or I push the concept further if I can (copying magic instead of shapeshifting). And most importantly, I give my characters flaws and weaknesses. That's the most important part of the creation to me. What can I give him that'll make him struggle? The scenario writes itself as soon as you give your characters challenges to overcome within themselves.

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

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chapter warnings - manipulative!Joel, oral sex, piv sex, degradation.

The older townsfolk mourned Maude's passing with solemn reverence. In accordance with the directives created by the community council, all events and celebrations were postponed by two weeks out of respect for the departed individual. This meant that Cassie's wedding, which was supposed to take place in three days time, had to be rescheduled.

Once you knew Maria had broken the news to Cassie you and Kate went to visit her, knowing she would be devastated. The both of you perched on a couch in the living room of the house Cassie shared with her adopted family - fellow survivors who Cassie had known from when she had first been orphaned.

"I really don't want the wedding so close to Christmas," Cassie groaned as she flopped down on the couch. "Plus, it'll be so cold, it is going to start snowing any day now!"

You could appreciate Cassie's frustrations about the forced postponement of the wedding, yet the grief you felt for Maude's death was still raw, and so your capacity for commiseration was very limited. But you still dutifully listened to her lamenting along with Kate.

"I won't be able to have the ceremony in the orchid like I wanted, either." Cassie grumbled and hugged one of the couch cushions tightly to her chest. "I can't believe the council is doing this."

"It has been the town rules since the beginning," Kate said with a shrug. "Yeah it is disappointing, but it's reasonable."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Cassie muttered.

"Maybe you could postpone it until the spring?" You suggested. "That way the orchid will be in full bloom and it won't be snowing. It's only a few more months away."

There was a short silence between the three of you while the merit of your idea sunk in. Just when you were about to regret voicing your idea, Cassie suddenly sat up straight and turned to face you, her features lit up with excitement.

"That's...a great idea," she grabbed one of your hands and grinned widely. "It's actually perfect!"

You chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze. "Really? You like it?"

Cassie nodded eagerly. "Yes! It is amazing! Oh my god, I need to talk to Maria about the new date and the plans will be!"

Kate laughed and patted Cassie's shoulder. "Okay, slow down, there's still plenty of time for that. Matt's with Maria and Tommy today organising the new rosters for patrol, so she's probably too busy to talk about planning your wedding today."

Cassie let out a little huff of indignation and rolled her eyes. "Alright! I guess it'll have to wait. But in the mean time, let's talk about seating arrangements. Who are you girls bringing as dates?"

The question had caught you off guard. You hadn't thought about who you were inviting to the wedding since you asked Joel that night, the night when you had initially broken up with him (or rather, tried to). Kate answered first, rambling about trying to find the right opportunity to ask one of her colleagues she fancied, while you pressed your lips together in a tight line, body going rigid. How were you supposed to answer?

My older secret boyfriend doesn't like socialising and practically hates everyone and thinks stuff like this is a waste of time?

Cassie tapped your knee to get your attention. "What about you? Have you found someone yet?"

You give a small noncommittal shrug, hoping desperately that Cassie won't interrogate you any further, but you know she won't be so easily placated.

"Oh come on!" She swats you playfully. "There has to be someone that you want to ask out. I don't get how you don't have a boyfriend or at least someone to have some fun with!"

"What about Oscar?" Kate prompted.

You went stiff at the mention of Oscar and shot a glare at Kate. When she smiled at you, you recognised that there was no teasing inflection in her words or expression. Her suggestion had been completely innocent and genuine.

"He's a nice guy, and you must have gotten to know him well while he's been at the library." Kate reasoned.

She was right. Oscar was a nice guy. In fact, more than nice - he was actually the most kind and sincere man you had ever met. And yes, you had gotten to know Oscar quite well recently, well enough to admit that he was a great friend (and would probably be an even greater partner, you secretly admit to yourself). And you knew without a doubt that he would jump at the prospect of accompanying you to an event like Cassie's wedding.

The total opposite of Joel.

Your cognisance of this reality causes a deep rooted pang of disappointment to rear up inside your chest.

But even if you wanted to invite Oscar as your date, there was no way that could happen. Joel may have refused to go alongside you but it was an impossibility that you could go with any other man, not unless you wanted to potentially lose Joel or face his wrath. There was nothing you could do, you deduced.

Unless you asked Joel again. But you weren't sure if you wanted to risk the heartbreak of his rejection again. After all, he had said that your relationship should be kept private, away from gossiping and prying eyes and those who wished ill on the happiness of others.

You snap out of your thoughts and drag your eyes up to look at Cassie and Kate. They exchange a glance and look back to you expectantly.

You breathe out a sigh and shake your head. "I don't know," you finally answer. "Maybe."

"Well, you guys are lucky you've got some extra time to find someone!" Cassie teases while rising to stand. "Now, I want your final opinions on my veil."

You're grateful for the change in subject, for the attention to be redirected away from you and the topic of dates. You stand up with Kate and make your way to follow Cassie to her bedroom. As you trudge up the stairs behind your friends, you try to reassure yourself that Joel is right to protect you both, that his need for secrecy is for good reason. That perhaps one day soon he will decide it is safe enough for you to openly declare your love and become a family, just like he said you would.

Joel snuck over to your cottage late that night as soon as his patrol shift finished. He had been impatient to see you, practically starving for you all day. You hadn't so much as cracked the door open and greeted him before he slipped through the door to shove you against the wall and kiss you ferverantly.

Just five minutes later Joel was sitting on your couch, stroking his hard cock as he watched you with hooded, lust drunk eyes. Still wearing his jeans, his legs were spread wide and his boots were planted firmly on the living room floor.

Under his direction you stood opposite him across the small living room in only your panties. Your hands hang loosely by your thighs, fingertips brushing close to the hem of your underwear as you await further instruction from Joel.

Your arousal was seeping into the scant crotch of your underwear, making it stick to your core and causing your clit to throb. The juxtaposition of Joel fully clothed while you were stripped down to your panties made you feel exposed and dirty. You knew Joel could easily see the shame written on your face, and how it was just barely eclipsed by the overwhelming desire for him. He seemed to take pleasure in coaxing these opposing emotions from you, a proud satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he watched you clench your thighs and whimper.

"You missed me, baby?" Joel rasped.

You are too fixated on the sight of his thick fingers squeezing around his cock to verbally respond. It looks so fat and delicious in his grip, enticing enough that your mouth begins to salivate in anticipation. You don't speak, but instead just sigh softly and nod. Joel smirks and rubs his thumb over the bead of precum that has leaked from his slit, smearing it over the head of his cock.

"Yeah?" He cooes smugly. "Bet you've been missin' this cock all day, too."

Joel has teased you enough. You are so desperate to touch him now, and equally desperate to feel his big calloused hands roam over your own body. Unable to hold back any longer, you take a tentative step forward with the intention of approaching him, totally forgetting the rules of this little game you and Joel play.

He is quick to halt you, though.

"Don't move," he barks a warning and shakes his head at you. "Stay right where you are until I say you can move."

"Please Joel," you whine with frustration. "I need you."

"Tell me how you need me, baby doll," Joel murmers, "tell me how much you missed my cock and I might let you have it."

The mixture of arousal and shame was something you'd grown accustomed to over the months you had been intimate with Joel, but there was still a tiny sense of unease that lingered in your stomach each time you submitted. In the heat of the moment you push it aside, just as you do now.

"I really need you," you sigh."N-need to feel your cock and taste you. I missed it so much today. Missed how you fuck me so good with your cock."

Joel smirks, pleased with your admission. "You want it so bad, baby? Come get it. Crawl to me."

"Huh?" You squeak.

"Ya heard me," Joel growls impatiently. "If you're so desperate for my cock, get on your hands and knees and crawl to me."

You don't need any more persuasion. You lower yourself to your knees and plant your palms on the living room floor, your gaze never leaving Joel's. There is a gleam of cruel satisfaction in his large dark eyes that makes him look like a hungry wolf gleefully torturing its cornered prey. Joel beckons you with two fingers.

"Keep those eyes on me," he drawls.

You obey, staring at him as you start slowly crawling across the space of the living room, the hardwood floors uncomfortably into your kneecaps. Joel leans back into the couch and watches you like a hawk, his jaw clenched. You feel the heat of shame colour your face but you try your best to keep your eyes on his. You cross the floor and come to kneel a foot before him in between his spread legs.

"Good girl," Joel croons. Your pussy throbs from his praise and you bite your bottom lip to stifle your moan. "Did just what daddy told ya."

"Yes, sir," you whisper.

Joel grips his dick at the base and gestures to it with a small nod of his head. "Come on, take it. Show me what you've been wantin' all day."

You shuffle closer to him and slide your hands up the length of his legs and over the thickness of his strong thighs, staring at the fat head of his cock glistening with precum. Joel releases his hold and slips the palm of his hand along your jaw and to the back of your head. He threads his fingers through your hair and tangles a handful into his fist, giving it a tight tug. It hurts but causes a tingling to surge from your belly to your pussy, and you mewl pathetically.

"Show me," Joel urged, the tone of his voice rough and close to cracking, betraying the depth of his own desire. His pupils were blown wide already. "Open your fuckin' mouth."

You stare up at him and flutter your lashes as your hand snakes up to wrap around his shaft. You part your lips and stick out your tongue then lean in and swipe it over his slit, tasting the salty musk of his skin. Joel catches his bottom lip inbetween his teeth and lets out a groan.

You lick a thick stripe up the underside of his shaft and then wrap your lips over the head of his cock, giving it a teasing suck and then popping it back out of your mouth. You jerk your fist up and down the base of his cock while you repeat the action several times, letting your saliva run past your lips and drip down Joel's girthy length.

"That's it," Joel drawls, his eyes appearing black while he watches you intently. His hand flexes in the tangle of your hair.

You dip forward to slide his dick inside your mouth until you feel him touch the back of your throat. You welcome the familar way he stretches the corners of your lips. You then bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks and sucking around him while simultaneously breathing through your nose.

You had very little experience sucking cock before you started sleeping with Joel. The idea used to intimidate you and you worried that your lack of experience was laughable, that you were incapable of giving pleasure to anyone. But your inexperience only seemed to excite Joel, a wolfish gleam in his eyes and a smug twitch on his lips when he casually suggested he teach you how. Eager to learn, you agreed. And so he did.

Joel was patient as he taught you how to take him in your mouth, how to properly breathe through your nose while maintaining suction, the importance of eye contact, how he liked your small hand jerking him off at the same time.

To Joel's immense satisfaction you learnt how to please him quickly, and he learnt how eager you were to hear his praise. Taking advantage of this eagerness and need for his acclaim, Joel slowly pushed you a bit further each time, nudging boundaries and inching closer to your discomfort. He eventually introduced you to the concept of face fucking, confessing his preference for rougher blow jobs, how he loved the seeing your face wrecked and covered in his spit and your saliva. You were intimidated at first but Joel was able to coax you into trying. He was just patient enough to guide you through your hesitations, careful to not push you too far too quickly, always encouraging you and praising your efforts. It thrilled Joel to experiment and test you, to force you to deep throat him longer, to endure more forceful thrusts.

Joel's dedication to your training had paid off; now you were skilled at sucking his cock just how he liked, and he knew you enjoyed it as well, conjuring an almost Pavlovian response in your loins.

So now, tonight, Joel sits on your couch and revels in you worshipping his cock with your tongue and your throat. His breathing becomes heavier and his fist pulls tighter in your hair as you continue to pleasure him.

"Fuck, baby," he grits breathlessly. "So fuckin' good for me, tight little throat takin' me so well."

His praise goes straight to your pussy and you moan around him. Your eyes are glassy with tears as you stare up at Joel. His plush lips are parted as he pants, hooded puppy dog eyes fixed on you, his crown of greying dark curls touseled.

You deepthroat him for another minute, his moans and groans filling your ears alongside the sloppy gagging noises coming from your thoroughly fucked throat. You gasp for air when Joel suddenly wrenches you off of him, making your scalp sting.

"Don't wanna cum just yet," he pants heavily. "Wanna fuck you. Bet that little pussy is drippin' for me, ain't it, baby?"

You whimper and nod as best as you can with his tight hold on your hair, your eyes wide and wet, your lips puffy. The sight of you so wrecked on your knees before him makes Joel feel crazed. 

"Sit on my cock, little slut." He growls. "Come on, get up and ride it."

Joel doesn't wait for you to rise before yanking you up to stand on your feet by your hair. You squeal and wobble unsteadily but he ignores you. He then takes your panties and rips them down your thighs and down your legs in one swift, impatient motion. His hand grabs your ass cheek and squeezes roughly before using the grip to move you to straddle his legs.

You're like a rag doll, pliant and acquiescent, allowing Joel to manhandle you to hover above his cock. You spread your legs wide over his thick thighs and moan when you feel the wet blunt head of his dick press against your pussy. Even though you're so wet you're still apprehensive about taking Joel without at least having his fingers inside you to stretch you a bit. You open your mouth to voice your concern when suddenly Joel slams you down onto his dick.

You scream at the burning stretch. His cock impales you, seeming to part your insides as he buries himself completely inside your pussy. He watches you closely as your face contorts in pain, untangling his hand from your hair to slide down your spine and cup your other ass cheek. Your body shudders and your opening throbs painfully around the base of him.

"Ow, ow! F-fuck, Joel," you sob. Your hands claw at his shoulders for support.

"So full of me, babydoll," Joel whispers huskily. You can feel the rough skin on his palms when he slowly rocks your pelvis back and forth, his cock dragging out a few inches and then back in, forcing your walls to adjust around him.

He's right, you are so impossibly full of him. You choke out a series of stuttering moans and whimpers while he continues manovuering your hips in shallow thrusts. He's so fucking big you can feel him deep in your stomach. The pain eventually lessens in intensity and is replaced by overwhelming pleasure, although the sensation of fullness remains. Your pussy is getting wetter and wetter, making the the movement smoother. Joel notices your slick start to drip down his shaft and down to his balls and a growl of approval rumbles in his throat.

"Takin' daddy's cock like a good little bitch," Joel moans. "Such a good fuckin' girl."

His words make your pussy clench. God, he makes you feel feral. You start to wind your hips and bounce on top of him in a fervent rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"That's it," Joel murmers against your lips. "Ride me, baby, ride this fat fuckin' dick."

He licks at the corner of your mouth teasingly before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth, still bouncing and grinding on his length and digging your nails into his shoulders. When Joel slips one hand inbetween your bodies and starts to stroke your clit with his thumb, your legs quiver.

Joel's tongue dances around yours as he skillfully circles your bundle of nerves. Your eyes roll back, the coil in your lower stomach swirling and contracting. Your soft body feels wholly possessed by Joel, every inch of you captured and devoured by him. You're lost in the ecstasy you share with him, and within a few minutes the coil reaches a crescendo and snaps. You climax, legs shaking and body shuddering. Joel helps you through it with upwards thrusts of his hips and his thumb still circling your clit.

When your orgasm fades and your body is overcome with fatigue, Joel grabs tightly on to your hips and fucks up into you. He slams you up and down like a ragdoll as he desperately chases his own climax, reaching it in less than a minute. At the last moment he hauls your body up off him. Joel's groans are loud and animalistic as his cock pulses and spurts ropes of his warm seed over your lower belly and your mound. You mewl wearily into his chest.

You feel sleep creeping closer and you slump further against Joel. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, running a hand through his untamed curls and tilting his head back. You both remain that way quietly for several minutes. You are just beginning to drift off to sleep when Joel taps your hip to signal you to get off his lap.

You begrudgingly slide off of him and flop onto the couch. He stands and leaves you to curl up alone against a couch cushion. You can feel the stickiness of his cum drying on your skin but you're too exhausted to care. Your eyelids flutter shut and you yawn into the cushion. You hear the rustle of clothes, the clunk of his boots on the ground and some kind of movement near you, then Joel reappears above you naked from the waist down. You don't open your eyes as he scoops you into his arms wordlessly and carries you to your bedroom. You are almost completely asleep when he tucks you into your bed and slides under the covers next to you. And when he slings an arm around your middle possessively and gets comfortably snuggled against your body, you're already lulled into slumber.

The next day you were back at the library with Oscar.  The weather outside was awful; thick grey clouds filled the sky with the threat of rain while a bitter wind whipped mercilessly throughout the streets of the town. The inside of the library was cosy and warm though, and you had to agree with Oscar when he said  that snow would be arriving soon.

Sometime after lunch, when there was a lull in residents visiting the library, Oscar cleared his throat before uttering your name.

"Hm?" You hummed in reply without looking at him. You were focused on recording the details of each book in a small stack of hardcovers beisde you.

He said your name once more, louder this time, commanding your attention. 

"I won't be working at the library anymore," Oscar spoke quietly.

The weight of his confession hung heavy and resounding in the air. You froze, the hand holding the pen pausing halfway through writing a title. Your throat went dry instantly. Surely he hadn't just said he would be leaving the library?

A frown creased your brow. Yes, you must have misheard him. There was no way he would leave you and abandon the comfortable niche you had created together. Right?

You felt flames of panic start to lick the inside of your sternum. You looked up at Oscar with alarm, hoping for reassurance. But he was already staring at you with an apologetic expression that immediately told you that you had indeed heard him correctly.

"W-what?" You stammered. "What do you mean, why not?"

Oscar propped his glasses on top of his forehead and brushed the corners of his eyes with his fingertips, and you weren't sure if he were sweeping away weariness or tears. You had never seen Oscar without his spectacles before, and when he shifted his gaze back to you you were struck by how enchanting his sultry hooded eyes were. Even consumed with an expression of helpless regret, you couldn't help but marvel at how handsome he looked.

"Maria says it is time for me to go back to patrolling and the stables now my ankle is healed." Oscar said softly.

You sucked in a breath of air and shakily exhaled. "That's not fair," you mumbled petulantly, looking down."The library needs you."

Oscar smiled, a small sad quirk of his lips.  You both knew the library no longer needed two people to manage it. Oscar had painted and renovated the building as best as it possibly could have been, and all that was left now was general cleaning and the maintance of books - the tasks you had easily completed alone.

"You've got it," he reassured you. "This is your library now."

Tears well in your eyes and blur your vision. You feel ridiculous for being so emotional, for the disappointment and sadness cruelly curling around your heart. You aren't even completely sure why you feel this way, either. You knew Oscar wouldn't always be around in the library with you, but you couldn't ever anticipate this sense of loss at him leaving. Why was the prospect so hurtful?

All you manage to do is shake your head gently, unable to voice your disagreement. This is yours too, you want to say, we made this together. You bow your head and shut your eyes tightly.

Oscar seems to read your thoughts. He moves slowly toward you, the whisper of his shoes against the floor being the only sound in the room. You're startled when you feel his hands tenderly settle on your shoulders and he says your name once again. You raise your head and turn to look at him, unable to hide your sadness, you are sure you find a similar glint of emotion reflected in his own beautiful eyes.

"Do you have to?" You whisper, searching his eyes.

Oscar gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze and nods. "Yes, I do. Everyone has their roles in the community, and I have to go wherever Maria and Tommy need me. And after that mission we need as many capable people as possible on patrol."

You sigh and nod your head slowly to show you understand. And you do. You have even seen Joel work himself to the bone at times when there have been shortages within patrol groups. But you can't help feeling selfish right now.

"We can still be friends," Oscar offers you a smile. "Have lunch together when I'm not on patrol. What do you think? I mean, only if you want. Do you?"

The air between you feels thick all of a sudden, tense with the intimacy of your proximity. He's so close to you now, his body almost caging yours, but somehow it doesn't feel claustrophobic at all. Instead, it is comfortable, it feels safe.

"Of course I do," you find yourself answering immediately. It is the truth, yes, but it is one that you know isn't realistic.

"Okay. Good." Oscar breathes out. It almost sounds like he is relieved by your answer. Maybe he is. He opens his mouth to say something more but the moment is abruptly shattered when the bell above the door tinkles, signalling someone's entrance. Instinctively you both take a step away from each other, Oscar readily greeting the handful of children that have materialised while you compose yourself.

For the rest of the afternoon you try not to sulk, trying in vain to savour the enjoyable moments of your last shift with Oscar.

Three weeks pass by quickly. The weather has turned bitingly cold and snow has settled into the mountains of Wyoming. The snowcapped peaks surrounding the Jackson village create a beautifully picturesque backdrop to the flurry of activity happening in the town.

Everyone is preparing for Christmas. Decorations are constructed and displayed in windows and shop fronts. Strings of fairy lights are hung in the main street and the glowing yellow bulbs illuminate the darkness of night. The townspeople are more cheerful and animated than usual, the children especially excited by the celebratory atmosphere and the wafting sweet smell of baked goods that carry from the bakery.

You continue to work at the school and the library. The library is so different without Oscar's laugh and his stories and the warmth of his presence. You force yourself to trudge through each shift without thinking about him too much, although reminders of him pop up here and there and it is impossible not to.

You haven't spoken to Oscar in three weeks. You know he has been busy back on patrol but his absence still stings. You still hope he will come walking through the door to visit, even just to say hello.

You have glimpsed Oscar twice throughout that time though, both in the main street as you were walking home and he was headed to the mess hall after his shift. You spotted each other at the same time and your heart skipped a beat to witness a flash of tender affection pass over his features. Both times he was with two other patrolmen though, and it was clear that he couldn't stop to talk.

As you passed each other Oscar gave you an apologetic smile, disappointment tugging at his lips. You smiled back and nodded once, hoping to convey your understanding.

I miss you, you wanted to tell him.

But you couldn't. You continued the trek back home, forgoing dinner at the mess hall as usual, preferring the quiet comfort of your cottage and your books. Joel would be over later.

Joel had started spending more time at your home recently. On the nights he wasn't on patrol he would skulk through the darkness to slip through your door and into your bed. It wasn't every night, but you made sure to always be home before 8pm in case he showed up.

Until a few days before Christmas.

It was just after dusk when you were startled by a knock at your front door.

It must be Kate, you thought, coming by early to go to the movie screening together.

When you opened the door you were surprised to find that it wasn't Kate on your porch, but Joel. He had just finished his patrol shift; his hair was windswept and his lips were chapped, and the lines around his eyes were accentuated by weariness. He must have come straight to your place after leaving his horse at the stables. Even with the evident exhaustion written on his features, Joel still looked as rugged and handsome as ever.

His eyes scanned up and down your body, clocking the fact that you were wearing your best pair of jeans and your hair was neatly combed and tied into a braid with a ribbon. You were too caught off guard by his unexpected appearance that you missed the way his eyebrows creased.

"Oh, Joel!" you exclaimed. "Why are you here?"

You stepped aside to allow him to enter the cottage and he swaggered in. As he squeezed past you could smell the mix of gunpowder, sweat and pine on his clothes.

"What d'you mean?" Joel glowered, watching you with an air of suspicion as you shut the door behind him. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

You turned around to face him and pressed your back against the wooden door. "Well, I didn't know we were meeting tonight."

Joel folded his arms and glared down at you with furrowed eyebrows. He looked annoyed with you.

Oh no, he's upset. Did I really forget he was going to come over?

"I mean, I don't remember us making any plans." You quickly amend. "Did we?"

"I can't just come over and see you when I want to?" Joel bristled. "What, you busy all of a sudden?"

Okay, he is really annoyed.

A tiny niggling anxiety began to stir in your stomach - a biological remnant of trauma that you weren't entirely conscious of but of which had entrenched itself throughout your nervous system. You needed to quash this feeling as quickly as possibly, and assuring Joel that you weren't too busy for him and still loved him somehow seemed like the best way to make it better.

"No, I'm not busy" you murmer soothingly. "I always want to see you."

You weren't lying, either. Since his return, you really did want to see Joel as often as you could. Within this short span of time there had been a shift within your relationship, mainly precipitated by changes in Joel's actions. He had become more generous in his affection and praise, causing you to become putty in his hands at every cuddle, caress and compliment he lavished upon you.

You had loved Joel for all these months now and had been so starved of the security of knowing his feelings, that these displays of affection had totally bewitched you. It was as if Joel had weaved an intoxicating spell over you. A spell you were powerless to resist and of which made you constantly crave his skilled touch and the weight of his body and his low baritone.

Simply, you were falling deeper in love with Joel.

You gather the courage to step toward him and lay your palm delicately against the curve of his jaw, hoping to pacify him.

Joel's eyelids close briefy while he savours your soft touch, and his head dips ever so slightly to press heavier into your hand. He's so beautiful when he's soft like this, when he lets his guard down and opens up a little.

Joel visibly inhales and exhales through his nose. He opens his eyes and glowers down at you once more, but you detect that his irritation has lessened somewhat, the hardness in his orbs not as amplified. Relief floods your body and the niggling knot of worry dissipates.

"Where you goin' dressed up like that?" Joel grunts, his hand moving in a vague gesture over your body.

"Dressed up?" You chuckle. "Joel, I'm just in jeans and a shirt. The girls and I are going to watch the movie screening in the hall tonight." You slowly stroke the patchiness of scruff on his jaw with your thumb.

"Baby, why do you wanna waste your time with that? I got a TV and video tapes at my place that you can watch anytime."

"I know, but--"

Joel takes your hand from his face and shifts away from you, sighing heavily. "Girl, I had a long day dealin' with the bullshit the last patrol shift left for me to clean up. I'm tired, back's killin' me, but I came straight here to see you."

"Oh Joel, I'm sorry," you sigh guiltily. You knew how the pain in his back troubled him, the affliction sometimes so bad that he would grit his teeth and snap like a vicious dog nursing a nasty wound. You often gave Joel massages to ease the tension in his muscles, especially after long strenuous shifts. Your heart ached to know he was in pain.

And you feel torn. You wanted to comfort Joel and support him, to show that you care for him and love him. But you were also so excited to see the movie with your friends tonight. You hadn't really had a fun evening with the girls for a long time and you were all eager to take advantage of any opportunity to enjoy your youth, to gather in public and gossip and joke. After the screening you'd all probably go to the Tipsy Bison for some drinks, of which you guessed Joel wouldn't approve of.

You approach him now and wrap your arms around his waist, trying to cuddle him, but Joel doesn't move.

"The movie won't go for too long. Why don't you stay here, have a shower and relax. And then I meet you back here?" You suggest cheerfully. "Spend the night with me, please."

"Not tonight," Joel mutters, detaching from your hold without looking at you. "I'm goin' home."

Your heart sinks. "Joel, please," you plead, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. "Stay here."

Joel gives a tight shake of his head, his eyes avoiding your face, and paces to your front door. You are about to omplore him one last time but he quickly strides out of your home without saying anything.

When Kate arrives to walk with you to the town hall, you try your best to swallow the lump in your throat and adopt a happy facade. But it is a lot more difficult than you anticipated.

At the town hall you can't concentrate on the movie at all. It is impossible to focus on the moving images on the massive projection screen when your stomach is twisting into knots thinking of Joel. You're surrounded by Jess, Rhi, Kate and Cassie, in their chatter and giggles, but you can't hear them. It is as if you have been submerged underwater and everything is blurred and muffled.

Joel's scowl of displeasure flashes in your mind and an involuntarily shiver rushes up your spine, causing you to twitch in your seat. He had looked so disappointed and aggravated by your unavailability for him. It suddenly struck you that he needed you; he had come to you at the end of his bad day, had chosen you to share his complaints with, wanted you to comfort him. But instead you had chosen to attend a stupid movie night rather than be with Joel. You had prioritised something so meaningless over Joel's feelings; guilt had lodged itself inside your throat, heavy like a stone.

You can't stay. You need to leave and talk to Joel.

You feign feeling ill to your girlfriends. Kate offers to walk you home but you decline, not wanting her to miss the movie she had been so excited to see. Rhi protests and argues that they hardly ever see you anymore but Kate defends you and calms her down. Although disappointed, the girls encourage you to go home and rest.

You leave, but you don't go home.

Instead, you secretly make your way to Joel's large two storey house under the clandestine cloak of the dark night sky. It is freezing and you regret not wearing more layers.

When you reach his house, you spontaneously try jiggling the door handle and discover it is unlocked. As if he knew you would come. Were you so predictable, or did Joel just know you too well? You twist the knob and slowly push the door ajar just enough to poke your head through.

"Joel?" You call out hesitantly.

"Yeah," the deep timbre of his voice responds soon after. You can tell that he's close by, probably in the living room. You slip into the house and push the door closed.

As you creep into the living room, you feel sheepish, like a scolded dog crawling back to its owner with its tail between its legs. The whole house is dark except for the dancing flames in the fireplace and a single lamp that sits in the corner of the room that emits a dull yellow light. Joel sits slumped in his arm chair nursing a glass of dark amber liquor in his hand. He has showered and changed into a clean black shirt and sweat pants. You instantly feel the welcoming heat coming from the crackling fire in the fireplace.

"Movie no good?" Joel grunts, raising his eyebrows.

You are too embarassment to meet his gaze so you stare at the ground instead. You scuff the toe of your shoe against the floor while you fidget absentmindedly with the hem of your shirt. You have to clear your throat before you answer.

"It was fine. I just...I missed you. I wanted to be with you instead. You are more important."

"Look at me," Joel commands softly. You obey and drag your eyes up from the floor to look at him. "That the truth?"

"Yes sir." You reply quietly with a single nod.

Joel seems to accept your answer and nods back. You don't realise you're holding your breath as you wait for him to say more. You study Joel's unhurried movements as he takes a leisurely sip of his whiskey and then deposits the small glass on the table next to him. He runs his hand over his face and grunts, but says nothing more. You suck in a breath of air before blurting out your next sentence.

"Is it alright I'm here?" You ask timidly.

Joel stares at you for a few moments, his weary eyes raking up and down your body. Then he jerks his head slightly to usher you over.

"Come 'ere," Joel murmers as he pats his thigh.

There it is. His permission. His forgiveness. You can't hide the relieved smile that breaks out on your face. You prance over to him and climb onto the thick muscle of his thigh, positioning your legs across his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You rest your head against his chest and sigh contentedly as Joel slips an arm around your waist and cups his large hand over your hip. You inhale his scent, the familiar musk of Joel and sandalwood and pine, and hum appreciatively. You adore the way you fit into his lap and how his frame cradles you, making you feel so small.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I wasn't thinking. I should've just stayed home."

Joel doesn't say anything. He drapes his other hand across your knee and strokes the area with his thumb. You nuzzle into his neck lovingly and Joel places a light kiss on the top of your head.

He is immensely pleased that you showed up - he knew you would. He's proud that you're starting to learn and accept that your rightful place is with him. Not with your friends or around any other frivolous things to distract you. You belong here, with him.

He wishes he could whisk you away from Jackson and leave all this bullshit behind. If it weren't for Ellie, he would find a way to do it.

But for now Joel has to be content with this. Just like training you to surrender your body to his every whim and desire, he was going to make sure you would surrender your life to him, too.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows

[sukunasun]

can we get crumbs of mma sukuna and that break up fic

here's a sneak peek!

the car ride back to your hotel is tense as you fall into an almost unbearable silence. sukuna keeps his eyes on the road, unblinking. there's traffic built up stretching across an entire city, honking cars and engines whirring loudly but it doesn't do much to drown out the impending conversation you dread. only because you have a feeling it would lead to something worse. a bubble waiting to burst.

“you still mad?” sukuna's the first one to speak. he reaches out for your hand, curling his fingers around and bringing his lips so close to your ear. you feel his breath on your skin along with his desperation too. "don't avoid me, you know how much i hate it." is his best plea.

keeping your eyes out the window, a mask weaves itself over your features, an impenetrable expression. snow starts to pile along the streets of osaka. dusting the surface of rivers and withering branches. you count the flecks of white, if you turned to him now, looking upon his face, it'll only hurt more.

what could you say, where do you even start— yes, you're still mad. and no, you're not avoiding him, nothing's more important than having this conversation right now but the events of the night have yet to even sink in—he'd been engaged to another woman. for a year. maybe two. and she'd been in love with him, probably still is given that she brings it up like it merely happened yesterday. 

"i wore him down," she said proudly. hand coming up to his chest. glamourous and flaunting her body pressed up against his. as if she were his date instead. despite the bile rising up your throat, you have to admit they look the part. two belonging together, physically flawless, exuding a blinding intensity. "i proposed like a million times before he ever agreed, but i couldn't give up, no one loves him like i do." 

"is this about how you look?" sukuna tries again. he's got plenty of questions lined up but it's the first thing that slips from his mouth, not knowing that he won't get to the others because it ticks you off immediately. setting off a fuse within you.

"it's nothing to do with that!" you scoff in disbelief. the warmth of his hand should feel comforting, but touching him now makes you anxious. betrayed that he'd shared the same touch with an ex you didn't know about. one who apparently slipped from his memory too by the looks of it. so you pull away, letting that distance grow. feeling the cool sting after the weight's been let off, the ghost of his hand lingering behind when you realize how bare it feels without him there.

"what's with the attitude?" he's annoyed and growing impatient, jaw and fists clenching. it's the first time you've rejected his touch so blatantly. it stings, it hurts him to the core. gone were the days of your rejection but he's seeing your walls building back up now is enough to get his blood boiling.

"i get mad about other things too, not everything is about how i look," you shoot back. as the quiet pauses lengthen and the seconds tick by, sukuna decides then and there that he will never want it to happen again. the way his heart drops to his stomach is foreign to him, an unexpected ache, an anxious little thing that makes him sweat.

he breathes a frustrated sigh, unaware of what's really wrong here, he hates playing these guessing games with you. "i'm not a fuckin' mind reader, plus you're always like this when i'm around other women," he says, like it were a nuisance he'd grown tired of.

you snap then, exclaiming "she wasn't just some other woman—oh hi, you used to be engaged to my boyfriend, nice to meet you too!" your skin prickles with anger, curse him. he's an expert at pushing your buttons.

rubbing at his temples, your admission barely phases him. "so that's what this is all about?" he has the audacity to laugh, "it didn't mean anything." you don't know what makes it worse, that he doesn't deny it or the way he brushes it off with such nonchalance.

all this before you were ever in the picture of course. you tell yourself it shouldn't matter. it was his past. way before he ever knew you. he had never mentioned wanting to get married, and you had thought—foolishly—that it wasn't the right time, that maybe he wasn't the 'marrying' type. but truths are unveiled and there's no going back from revealing something like that. "did you love her?" you question, although, completely unprepared for the answer.

sukuna's eyebrows furrow, "what kind of question is that?" he seems offended you'd ask, but still, he's not giving you a clear answer. only diverting.

so you dig further. "you loved her enough to marry her—" it's not about the woman, it's more about that voracity in her, being as self-serving as she was, 'no one loves him like i do,' she said with such certainty, in that same way sukuna does, they're not the kind of people who doubt. unlike you, she looks at him like she wants to own him. "—did you ever think you'd marry me? you're just looking for the next girl who'd wear you down?"

"oh so you wanna get married. is that it? would that make you feel better?" he dishes out sarcasm like a blow to the face and you're left with the realisation that he's being mean because he can. he's never liked having a weakness, especially now that he can't manoeuvre his way out of this fight with you. caught in a corner barely standing.

"you know that's not what i mean—"

"what is it then," he clicks his tongue. staring at the side of you. still avoiding his gaze, unable to look him in the eye and yell. get in his face. tear him apart.

you bite your lip. thoughts jumbling and bouncing around. you can't wrap your head around it. how could the sight of an old flame be enough to make you question your relationship and self-worth? he had a past and chose to keep it from you, fine. he'd been young, maybe he didn't consider those memories a part of himself. you don't know.

or maybe you've gone with the flow of his current for so long, that getting swept away felt so exhilarating and he'd made you feel safe. too safe. but somewhere in the midst of it, you've diminished, you've become all the things he didn't sign up for, you're not who he wants anymore, or at least it feels that way, and maybe...he knows it too.

there is no room for selfishness or jealousy where love is concerned. he's not what you expected sure, that little girl in you had only wished for a gentleman who could love you softly. someone who recognized how alone you've felt and that you're strong despite it. you've worked hard to let him in, to trust him, because sukuna is beyond hopes and dreams, he is real, he sits next to you asking, no—demanding that you talk to him about how you feel.

and why bury your feelings when you've never been that way, you were always so sure, could always speak your mind, tell him how you feel. all the times he's had to assure you and you don't know why you ever saw yourself as less than. he chased you. he wanted you. it shouldn't matter that no one else believes it. he's yours. all of him. scars, tattoos, and bloodied flesh. you love him, and yet—

"i think we need a break," you say, feeling your chest rise and fall, breaths coming out harshly. your heart twists, chest constricts, and every fibre in your body screams no. you feel the tears coming, your throat closing up with every exhale, choking and suffocating you.

sukuna clamps his hair under his fingers, pulling at them in frustration, "so you're punishing me," he says flatly. he knows you well, knows you're running away from him. it would be easier if you weren't so rash. if the mere sight of his disappointment didn't weigh down on your heart so overwhelmingly. so close to jumping out of this car, fleeing from it all.

"just some time apart for us to figure things out," you explain, "i can't be around you right now," it should be a relief. it's for the best. he'll never truly belong to you, not completely when everyone wants a piece. "don't tell me, she's the one who taught you about love..." you don't know why you hadn't intervened when she held him so closely, berating, judging. like you had no defenses. like it made perfect sense and it was better for you to accept it. it's all you've ever felt from those around you. coward. where's your fight?

at that moment, you turn to look at him to face the truth but the world comes to a halt after seeing pure hurt spill onto his face. the horror of what you've just said, the long road of stagnant cars ahead, and an even colder silence all leading to an imminent end settling in and sitting there in between two broken hearts.

[clarythericebot]

How to Rewrite Wish

I made a chart! :) I'm not great at chart-making yet, but I wanted to make a visual description on the major decisions people who decide to rewrite Wish usually have to make and what those individual decisions connote. Mostly because I'm also thinking of making a Wish rewrite^^

Explanation of chart under the cut:

I think the most significant decision you make about a Wish rewrite is how happy the Kingdom of Rosas is at the beginning of the film, because that in turn limits the choices you have of the dynamic between Asha and Magnifico.

Here are the options:

The Kingdom of Rosas is genuinely happy - Asha is misguided and must correct her worldview - King Magnifico is a sympathetic antagonist. This would frame Magnifico's actions in the film as actually good (and there can be an argument about that - you're essentially trading your ambition for a lifetime of security and a *chance* to get your wish granted - even if you disagree with it) or, you'd have to shift the nature of wishes and Magnifico taking them to be less sinister in the film. This choice lowers the stakes and may paint Asha in a pretty bad light, considering that it'll be her actions that disturb the peace. However, this storyline arguably gives the most room for internal growth, and the stakes can be heightened in different ways (for example, the kingdom is happy, but the people dearest to Asha aren't). You can also make full use of Magnifico's tragic backstory here and what led up to the building of the city of Rosas in the first place.

The Kingdom of Rosas is a secret dystopia - Asha is correct and must find a way to correct other people's worldview - King Magnifico is a sympathetic antagonist. This is essentially the original's set-up, though it failed in its execution by never quite committing to its premise. I suggest, then, that people who select this choice double-down on it to avoid Disney's mistake. Make Rosas' dystopia-ness a secret, and not something someone could figure out if they thought about the kingdom's wish-granting system for more than ten minutes. Probably make it more sinister while you're at it--for example, one YouTuber added that taking away wishes drained your life force. Have Asha be determined to free all the wishes from the get-go, and to get people to rally behind her despite her doubts. And have King Magnifico follow through on his redeemable qualities (maybe pairing his need for control with his chaotic past). Also, Asha still needs to grow somehow. I think this is a good reason why many people seem to like making her personality shyer in their rewrites--her goal is to rally the people, and she just doesn't have the charisma of Magnifico. That's one example of a good internal and external obstacle for this plot line.

The Kingdom of Rosas is a secret dystopia - Asha is correct and must find a way to correct other people's worldview - King Magnifico is completely evil. The above, only this time, you make Magnifico an all-out villain who knows exactly what he's doing. The best way to do this is probably to cut out his implied tragic backstory, or to reveal later that he was lying about it the whole time. That way, you could lean into Magnifico's malevolence in a fun, classic Disney way without being hindered by the thought that he might actually have a point. You also now have the opportunity throw evil Amaya and their cat into the mix.

The Kingdom of Rosas is blatantly sad - Asha is correct and must find a way to correct other people's worldview - King Magnifico is completely evil. In this version, there is no chipper 'Kingdom of Rosas'--the sadness exists here without a facade, as a powerful sorcerer king forces everyone to give their wishes over by the age of eighteen to fuel his power and there's nothing anyone can do about it. It's a much sadder beginning, and you have Asha start in a position more similar to Cinderella and Snow White, but on a larger level. However, that could show her holding on to hope no matter what, and trying to save both herself and her people. I would also argue this is the version where having the Star Boy iteration of Star would make the most sense. While he's a definite possibility in all versions, in the other ones, the conflict is mostly focused on Asha and Magnifico. Because Magnifico in this case is a more flat character (in this case, all he has to do is be fun, like Ursula! Not much depth required in that) Star Boy can function as the character that challenges Asha the most--for example, how this Tumblr user suggests that Asha could've ultimately been pessimistic despite being desperate enough to wish on a star, and Star Boy coaxes hopefulness out of her. It would then be matter of working together to take down Magnifico.

I hope this helps somehow, if you're thinking of doing a Wish rewrite! I'm definitely not saying these are the only options--I just put this together as what I think would be the most logical conclusions depending on which Rosas you pick.

And if you're curious--

The iteration that appeals most to me is #1, mostly because At All Costs sold me on how Magnifico ultimately has good intentions (and the movie never takes that nor his tragic backstory back). I'd have his Asha be his and Amaya's daughter--who sees that the vibrant peace and prosperity of Rosas, the way people willingly give their burdens and their wishes to her father, and thinks, I want to do that. She, unfortunately, is not nearly as powerful as Magnifico (that's where Star Boy comes in). I'd have Asha and Magnifico then have twin desires for power, both with the best of intentions, and twin tendencies to be a touch arrogant. I'd also have Magnifico and Amaya be 100% devoted to each other--I know everyone is wishing for a Disney villain couple, but I for one would adore a good!couple that are in love years into their marriage. The book still plays a role in turning Magnfico evil, though it wouldn't be as permanent as the film. And I'd want the theme to be more blatantly the difference between wishing for yourself vs wishing collectively with others.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

December Drabbles

Prompt 1: Snowflake Character: Grim ------------------------- Winter was on it's way. You were well aware of this, as you had pointed out to Grim little signs here and there as trees lost the last of their leaves, and the temperature dropped enough to cause frost to form on the windows. You even pointed out that he was catching more mice than usual, explaining they were just looking for somewhere warmer to stay than outside, but he waved it off saying it was just his skills improving.....and that you should reward him with more tuna. Despite his very very busy and stressful life being taken care of by a human who fed and cared for him daily and keeping him out of trouble to the best of their ability, he did notice when you stopped your studying to go sit by the window instead. Curious, he climbed up and curled up next to you. He watched your expression, wistful and almost longing as you looked outside and he turned his head to follow your gaze. To his confusion, there was nothing out there. He tried looking around a little more before gently pawing at your face to get your attention. "Hey henchhuman, what'chya doin? It ain't like the trees are gonna grow legs and walk away." You hummed a bit in amusement and scooped him into your arms, gently scratching his head. While he wasn't a housecat, he would allow it. Clearly you wanted to hold him and it was cold so. Sure it was ok. "It hasn't snowed yet. Back home the snow would sometimes start as early as September, and watching the first fall was always relaxing for me. My f...doesn't matter. I'm here now and just....wondering when I'll be able to see it." You looked out for a moment longer before sighing softly. "But it's not like it'll snow just because I want it to. Come on, I'll get you some food." Grim wasn't about to contest your offer, but as you set him down he couldn't help but look outside for just a moment longer, before deciding he would make sure you would get to watch the first snow fall.

He must have fallen asleep after eating, because the next thing he registered was waking up on the couch. It was dark outside - though to be fair, it had been getting darker earlier- but as Grim woke up he rubbed at his eyes a bit. Surely he had just seen a bug? But another white speck floated lazily outside of the window, beyond his field of view. He hopped up and headed for the door, fighting the knob to let himself out, and watching in awe as he watched a few more snowflakes descend. He shook himself out of his stupor before sticking his paw out to catch one. As soon as he felt the cold speck on it, he raced upstairs, determined to show you (basically) the first snowflake of the season. You were in the bathroom, getting ready for bed when a grey fuzzball barreled into your legs, rambling on about one thing or another until you registered snow. It took you a moment, but you stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom where you had a clear view of the first snow outside. Grim hadn't seen you smile quite as excitedly in a while, getting very proud of himself as you waved him over to come watch with you. "I even broughtchya something! Say hello to the very first and best snowflake caught by....MYRAH?!" He looked down at his paw, surprised and disappointed. "But I had it right there! I did! Now it's just a- I had the snowflake!" You held back a small laugh and hugged Grim gently. "It must have melted, but I still believe you Grim. Thank you for telling me about the snow. Now we can watch it together." You placed a small kiss on his head. He was about to protest, but decided just to snuggle into you instead and watch the snow. About two minutes later he piped up a little sheepishly. "Hey Prefect?" "Mhm." "I forgot to close the front door." ----------------------------------------------------------

[heroofshield]

Whumcember Day 22 Alt 2- Ice (Dragon Age 2, Fenhawke)

@whumpcember

"C'mon it'll be fun." Hawke smiled as she took Fenris's hand and gave it a tug. "Besides, you've never really gone ice skating. And since it's currently winter...no time like the present."

Fenris frowned but let Hawke drag him to the door and outside. He wouldn't admit that all he wanted to do was stay in front of the fire and drink. "Not when she's so excited to show me what 'ice skating' is. This is the first smile I've seen since Carver left." he thought as they made their way through the market and towards the main gates.

As they made their way through the snow, Hawke chattered on about how she used to ice skate with Carver and Bethany back in Lothering, how they would have to wait until Malcolm tested the ice to make sure it was thick enough to support their weight. "-and there was always someone who ended up skating too late in the season and went through the ice." Marian paused, realizing what she was saying. "But you don't have to worry about that, we're well into the season and it's been really cold."

"Are you sure?" Fenris said as they made their way to the pond that Hawke had pointed out when they'd gotten in view. He paused, raising an eyebrow at the ice where the water used to be. "It doesn't look that safe to me."

"It's fine. I went out last week and nothing happened." Hawke said, pausing for a moment before letting go of Fenris's hand and marched towards the bank. Not pausing, she moved away from the bank and onto the ice itself.

Fenris's heart leapt into his throat as he heard a crack...but nothing happened. Relaxing slightly he started to follow Hawke, getting onto the edge of the ice.

"See? It's like I-" Hawke started to say, smiling when suddenly there were several sharp cracks and she fell through the ice with a shout.

"Hawke!" Fenris called out, feeling his heart leap into his throat as she disappeared. Frantically he tried to recall what she'd said in the past if someone was to fall through the ice.

Moving quickly, he lay down on the ice- spreading his body weight so he didn't fall through either. Making his way towards the hole, he risked peeking over the broken ice to see if she was there. But only water greeted him and he swallowed thickly before taking a breath and plunging his hand into the water.

The cold instantly shocked him, shooting through his system almost instantly and it took all of his willpower to keep his hand in-moving about to hopefully brush into Hawke's.

The seconds seemed to become an eternity until something bumped against his hand. Resisting the urge to withdraw it, he stopped moving and felt fingers try to grasp his. Not hesitating, he moved his arm further in and was able to take her hand. Pulling with all his strength, Fenris saw Hawke appear and gasp for air. Still focused on getting her out of the water, he grabbed with his other arm and slowly but surely dragged her onto the ice.

Realizing that they weren't out of danger just yet, Fenris somehow managed to get them both off of the ice and onto the ground. It was all a blur, all he could think about was getting Hawke to safety.

Hawke's entire body was shivering and dripping wet. In the back of her mind she knew that she needed to get warm, but the overwhelming chattering of her teeth made it hard to form a coherent thought. Vision blurring, she was dimly aware of Fenris's body pressed against hers and him saying something about getting back to Kirkwall.

--

Anders stoked the fire in Hawke's room while saying, "I hope you won't go onto anymore ice after this. You were half-frozen by the time Fenris carried you back here. You were lucky yet again."

Hawke let out a sneeze and ignored the comment, choosing the burrow herself under the layer of blankets as much as she could. It had been a few day since she'd gone through the ice and still couldn't stop shivering. Peeking over the covers and she saw that her mabari was spread out in front of the fire. "At least one of us is enjoying the warmth."

Anders let a half-smile appear and leaned the poker against the brick, brushing the soot from his hands. "I'll be back tonight to see how you are and Varric'll be by later this afternoon."

"Thanks." Hawke watched as Anders slipped out of the room and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling tired. It felt like she'd closed them for a minute, but when she opened them next, Fenris was asleep in the chair next to the fire.

Slightly smiling, she was glad that he'd been with her that day and hoped the mild attraction they felt between each other could grow as time went on.

[intcritus]

Fingers raise from the page to offer a little wave of recognition to the other's appearance in his periphery. Absently his gaze remains on the book in his hands, tracking the sentence to its conclusion before he snaps the cover shut and allows himself to turn, visible eye embodying the smile of greeting that his mask obscures. "A peaceful morning today... how does the road of life fare?" Itachi's bookshop is a calm haven in which Kakashi enjoys to linger till the world demands him back, so he makes effort at least to greet rather than offer courtesy alone when it comes to the owner's presence. "Any recommendations as of late?"

with colten out for the morning, itachi came in early, opening the bookshop, and tea consumed, he was in a fairly good mood. his husband had woken him up so sweetly. so he knows it'll be a good day. the first thing he starts with is putting some books on the shelves when he spots kakashi. the dark-haired male doesn't approach at first, more than content to letting kakashi indulge in the book in his grasp. the owner knows what that's like, getting immersed in a story that putting it down is near impossible, especially when it's so enthralling.

❝ ━ it seems to be in my favor today, actually, ❞ he answers in greeting, a glimmering of mirth in his dark gaze, ❝ ━ a quiet, peaceful morning and i believe it's supposed to be light rain later on, only tonight though, so i hope you'll be inside before then. ❞ not that many enjoyed the rain, but itachi did. it made his night, and his thoughts seemed to quiet, shutting off and letting relax and just be. it helped that he slept quite well whenever it rained. turning his gaze back to the bookshelf when asked for reccomendations, itachi hummed in contemplation. there were plenty, depending on the genre. kakashi's tastes were interesting, and varied, which was impressive.

but if itachi was being honest, he's not entirely sure what the genre of his reccomendations should be today. there were so many great reads to bother picking from them all. ❝ ━ if you're looking for something satirical, there's i am a cat, it's humorous yet has a fascinating sense of storytelling from the feline's point of view. mm, there's the devotion of suspect x, a thrilling crime novel i know you'll immerse yourself in because of the complex twists. ❞ he's already read so many and even just thinking of them as he lists them off, makes itachi want to read them once more, ❝ ━ ah, snow story is a love story, it's bleak, but hauntingly beautiful none the less. rashomon is a shorter story that i just finished and i think you'll appreciate the irony of the lesson in that story. ❞ turning his gaze back toward kakashi, he smiles gently, ❝ ━ shall i get them for you, or would you like me to put them on hold for when you come next ? i promise you won't be disappointed. ❞

when the owner geeks out about books. | @resolutepath

[zorkaya-moved]

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜ (from al-haitham!)

@apocryphis

Within a doctor lives a hunter, the devil of the snowy plains and the killer of those who could not survive within the land of ice. She is a survivor, and a survivor is far more aware of her surroundings than anyone else. She is a Snezhnaya, a warrior born and raised from survival and hardships. Her past is covered in layers of snow and ice, hiemal songs follow her footsteps in shadows but she hides them all too well behind the perfect facade. Yes, it may seem fake, but as long as she helps others and there are those who believe her - it is all that matters. However, as they go across the deserted land, she senses disturbance. A faint hint of murderous intent, danger lurks nearby and it causes her to slow down. She watches, studies, and checks their surrounding. Her hand rests on her the hilt of her knife and her Cryo vision subtly shines.

Al-Haitham's words do not stir her away from the watchful instance. The Sun is setting down and the darkness will soon cover them. It'll be the perfect time for fools to attack. This is what she asked the scribe before: Can you fight? And as he said he'll be capable of protecting himself, she doesn't take into consideration his possible death for he is smarter than majority - if not all - of Sumeru. Does Azar want to play this game? He's too aware of her capabilities and her reputation. The moves are quick, they are knowledgeable. Someone who knows how to operate in the desert, especially at night. Despite how she stares into the distance, she is relaxed. Her body doesn't show an ounce of tension in it, it's as if she's just zoning out, but when the question is asked, she answers:

"Someone's been following us," she says, turning her face to look forward instead, continuing her steps forward. The sand is soft yet irritating under her boots, she doesn't enjoy this and she doesn't like it. Sumeru'd deserts are her least favorite spot, it's dry and the sand particles getting caught in her hair or getting into her eye makes it more irritating. However, when she looks at Al-Haitham, she offers him a reassuring and small smile. Laid-back, wishing to watch what'll happen. "I asked you before if you could fight, but let's hope they are just following us to see what we do. "

It doesn't matter.

Al-Haitham doesn't need to know that Sirin, the bird of tragedy and ice, is already behind them, left to fly above to find that fool who will be striked by the icy needle. The ice will melt and the body will be found by animals, monsters, and the Sun. No one will ever know what killed them, no one will ever know if it was a beast or a human. The body will be taken apart by the desert. Azar should know better than to try and watch what she does with the Scribe. Al-Haitham is too valuable to be kept away and to be unseen for too long. Unlike the foolish sages, she watches and learns. She doesn't need this man to get in her way, not yet. Not until she had her fill of entertainment. It's getting too boring, but she needs to finalize that experiment. Return it to the Abyss.

"I'm surprised, you're paying attention to my behavior," she chuckles, seemingly relaxing as she continues moving forward. A change in subject as if she's nervou to continue the current one, as if she doesn't want to dive into the possible tail, as if she's afraid and uncomfortable. Her eyes look around again before she sighs out, her shoulders slumping. So watch, Scribe, watch and learn of her [actions]. "I thought I was not as bad. But still, it's concerning you're actually paying attention to me. Thought you'd just huff and continue your stoic silent walk." Zarina brings humor in and glances at the Scribe, now her smile seems more relaxed. "Must be bad if you actually asked, ugh. I'm a bit on edge. I don't like being followed, but it's mostly harmless. Sometimes, I need to make a run for it." Her hand lifts up to start playing with her braid, a gesture for subtle nervousness. (What an actor you are.)

"When I'm alone, it's easier because I don't worry about another person, but... Well, I do worry that you might get in trouble because of me. So that's why I'm trying to be as vigilant as I can be," the unspoken 'to keep you safe too' would make sense with what she told about being the older sibling. He may not need to be protected, but the actions of an older sibling would make sense, wouldn't it? It's all calculated. Truths can be found in lies, it makes them harder to discern. "We just need to move forward. I don't like being vulnerable. Let's go, Al-Haitham. Let's pick up the pace. It's also getting darker."

[the-firebird69]

Hellcat Durango OVERPOWERED COPS!! #trx #ram #srt #srt8 #trackhawk #dodg...

He's doing this all the time and he says no matter what and they arrested him today and he was in jail for 10 minutes and his people suffered it's going to keep happening until he doesn't have people all over the world too they're doing the storm and his and he's ridiculous person but today they fired a lot of them and they think they can just walk back in there on Monday and they're taking their stuff out and they're going around and finding their people and taking them out and they're arresting them based on what they found and they're firing more people but Monday there won't be any of them in the government we think and they're getting to work on it too. This is what counts in a battle and it's starting to learn it

Thor Freya

Olympus

We do thank you for your efforts our friend there and really hang in there with these people will be out of there soon enough they're big huge jerks and pigs and they know the math they don't seem to want to go somewhere else it's really weird it's too weird and they don't have anything to say about it and they don't know anything so we have to pull them off

Mac daddy

It's really detachable it just sitting there threatening the s*** out of him and find out why he's ornery and angry a lot it's because of these two idiots and we see through it now and we can hear all your people saying it you say it about us you're saying about him and you're stupid and I'm going to keep going until you shut your mouth

Daniel

We're going to do it too and thank heavens that's finally is happening I took a long time

Thor Freya

He's in under this for about 25 years and it started in snow too and when he was a child now we want them out and we're going to force them out this particular group is leaving overseas and here shortly meaning they're very small overseas actually totally off Island they're about 7.5% the Trump's just make up about 3% of it and overseas 1% out of that 3%, and the island is cordoned off and being bombarded they were at 4.5% last week now they're at 3.5%, that's a huge number of loss and now it's going to increase and 1% is nothing to write home well and 2% is not either at the rate they're going all of the warlock are 0.04% an hour so in 2 hours it's almost a 10th of a percent and that means in a day it's probably a percentage with only 7.5%, it'll be about 8 days and he was right it's very high but you're losing more or less 2% a day including that and it could go upwards but that's about 4 days from today so I'm not sure what you're going to do but then you've got to get off the island and tonight we see your attack you have several plans and invasion if it goes off here you'll probably lose 1% in that that's a humongous Force a gigantic number of ships and that's one big reason it's like 0.5% of the entire crowd and the land forces humongous and really they can't sit around anymore than gigantic and yeah they've been sitting in Georgia and Alabama yet attitude is terrible and you dressed up and stuff and how wonderful it's terrible what you look like is primates. And if you lose that for us it's 1% and 2% by tomorrow but really you have about 1.5% committed for tonight and that would bring you down to about 6% and really that's not very big people can sense it too there's some other things happening that might increase that you're going down there and if you see any progress you're going to start moving out and you might even pull people off of the pseudo empire because the riches are much richer so we're going to watch you die and we're not going to care more a lok

Nuada Arrianna

The little teeny girl has a pretty high mutant factor in it because of her race she's partly mixed and she is a granddaughter of a giant she goes to hoth and it is not built or will and it is Bob birdies and she is not the Queen amidala but she goes with a pack a little bit she goes up there and becomes the monster and is trying to survive out there ultimately she dies in the cave and that's what she's going because of what she's saying and threatening my husband

Hera

As you can see Giants are very mesmerizing powerful and they are creative even ours and you guys don't understand what you're dealing with this stuff is very potent and putrid and way too hot for even the max I don't believe that they're doing it but they here they are from their mouths and their nuts

Mac daddy

We got to get out of here it's way too much for us we're sending tons down right now

Trump

They are sending a lot down but who can rely on what they're saying. We know how many and how many they might right now they're at 1% that they are sending down that's a lot they might go up to 2% tonight 0.5% is allotted to the pseudo empire to keep them busy 8% 2.5%, which is 5.5% with only 1% overseas after that is terrible and that's with Trump and over here would be less than 2% and they'll be gobbled up by a whole bunch of groups as they already are the zero point 0 4% and if you include that it's abysmal it goes down to 4.5%, and Trump would be under 1% about half of one overseas and here be about 1.5% cuz he's losing most of them at that point he is going to start to go up like a Roman candle

Nuada Arrianna

We're doing well in the project thank you Zeus and Hera we have several things for you that are on the way and we are developing it and we're going to make it happen we are getting assistance as needed and I see her sons and daughters are coming to us and in-laws and we will assign them things yes and it is a great deal of stuff do we have tons of it no what is a lot of things you need and your stereo it's a good perception to remember that kind of thing that they sometimes check it into near the destination or where it's going to end up to verify yes it is coming here and this is a destination this is the person and they match it up with electronics these days all electronics for the most part and Port of entry would be New York Philadelphia would be south of it they might drive it out because the airport is jammed and it makes a lot of sense it's just way behind and it sat there in China there's a lot of fighting that's why and he says that's good and we are ready for phase 2 no we're going to game busters we need a lot of things so we're going to do that and your son and daughter in law are heading over and they're going to bring the others in and get everything we need they say it too and that your country and they're standing by and they're going to converse with Thor and Freya an Olympus but really I do expect it and he wanted to know what other things are going on delay Hang-Ups things in the way and we do have a few we're going to let them know if we can't do it we will give you to a shop we do appreciate it and thank you very much for checking in it says I'm trying I'm swamped with really a lot of angry dumb people and they're so simple you can't tell them it's not my responsibility you don't have me doing anything positive now making yourselves the enemy and he's saying stuff is just really not helping you and we do see that too and they just do not understand it and it's way over their head they're getting crushed in push around with everybody so it's time now for Force protection and we call it to protect you from them

Uriel and Goddess wife we will fix the verbiage

Olympus the other side Hera's are also here in their stating they are with us and we'll help out and the project is going well

That made some progress they have huge things in place and we need a lot of stuff and we're getting the list now and I'm getting it and we're sending it out and you guys trying to fill it right away and if we see it too you're just going to start making more and getting more people doing it good

Thor Freya

Almost at 100% hired they said higher them all send it and send them something in the mail or an email and say get your took us in here and we got that too we do have some time to say this but why not use the mail and email and calling their friends and having people call their friends and having our troops do it I'm going to do that right now and tell him we're at 95%, okay you read us 95% come on let's get it up there and over the top and be examples for the universe we do know the project is going well we need a lot of stuff we had a list and we're working on it you see the major lists going out and we're going to fill in slots right now and we're moving it out and it's honors and it is duty and it's forever and we want to be known as the people who lead and can do the job

Frank Castle hardcastle

We don't so tough time in there but we see what's coming and we know what it is in addition to the stereo you have things that are owed to you by people all over the place here they are not really getting it to you it is Asia people like Sandy Wong and your friends Papa's clan and say I don't think he's lost I think you guys are a little bit off and what's going on and you fly like a butterfly and sting like a bee you can probably jump very high on like me and you can reset thing up there and it's probably up there above me and they say we know about it and that's what we're doing so thank you all for your help

Duke nukem Blockbuster

[goldendivinewrath]

@full-of-mercy

Vash can't help but grin wide enough to expose sharp teeth, entirely too pleased about Wolfwood's reaction to his jokes. It's clear in the resonance as much as it is in his expression, vibration pulsing before calming further; he really wants to be careful with that, particularly given how they're positioned. Better not to answer some questions about physics directly.

His attention is wholly taken up by the man beneath him, anyway. That laugh. His expression. There's a kind of beautiful, exquisite aliveness that he's peering down at, close enough to memorize details, to be lucky enough not to have the words for what he's observing or he would make the dire mistake of speaking them out loud. Whatever this is, it remains nameless. Unlabeled, experienced rather than witnessed. He doesn't mean to laugh along, to partially cover up the sound of the laughter he's so intent on remembering well enough to play back in his thoughts later, but it's good to join in.

Like it's good to welcome touch. Not fleeting, not simply familiar, and a far cry from the routine of cleaning and wrapping wounds. Touch just to feel. Touch just to touch, for the sake of enjoyment. It kicks up a hum in the back of his throat, low and soft and harmonizing with the resonance in the short time it's present, Vash peering down through lowered lashes with something that looks a lot like hunger and fondness combined.

It remains a little surprising when there's no hesitation to touch scars. The ugly bits. The things he prefers no one else have to see, to deal with, but it's-- It's different with him. Them. That thought is too close to being dangerous to follow, but the grasp of his hips allows easy movement and good timing, ability to think quite easily going snow-static-fuzzy as he leans forward with a hiss of breath.

The knees which had barely been hugging Wolfwood's sides suddenly take to squeezing a bit more solidly, a tremor working through his body from the new point of contact. The squeeze isn't enough to be uncomfortable, he doesn't think. When he can think again; he's not too sure about in the order of events between the words the other man says and the way "not sitting on my face" makes Vash's entire body feel like it's suddenly overcome with fever.

He can feel himself-- Not fully opening yet... blooming? Petals filling, their spiral loosening, while still confined. Any, ah, possible dripping on the leather won't be too difficult to clean at this stage, and that's far too practical of a thought to keep his attention. The physical reaction is more than he expects, faster, and he's not sure what Wolfwood can feel through the leather, but it probably isn't too dissimilar to the start of a man's bulge--

I'm game. He... wonders. Hopes. The fear rises and falls in waves, but it's never powerful enough to get him to stop. It's a thrill sometimes, it's a good reason to pull away others, but it... this... Vash swallows. They aren't supposed to think. Alright, then It's false confidence. It'll have to do. For all he's sure that Wolfwood is aware of when it comes to him, what he is, he can't know what the other man is truly prepared for.

The movement is intentional. It's a little more awkward then it should be, maybe, lifting and walking back on his knees just enough to oh so deliberately lower and slide them both into a much more obvious position, more or less aligning them with a questionably rational roll of his hips. It makes him gasp, resonance stuttering as he sits up again, pleasure-warmth driving his fingers to being a little too quick about getting his pants undone and maybe one of those buckles is going to need a repair, but later. Later. He just-- He needs to get them open, to peel them off his hips just a little, just enough to at least partially expose--

It's the anxiety of uncertainty that drives the bud back to winding tightly closed, petals with slightly glistening edges still entirely too pink to pass off as anything remotely human. Vash doesn't know where to look, if he should look at anything; his eyes dart around a bit but focus on nothing, trying not to shy away or pull into himself, but-- "I-it's okay if you..." There are too many ways to finish that sentence, and they're all a little devastating.

He doesn't retreat in spite of the fleeting reflexive urge to, but holding himself still makes his legs tremble a little too long to deny. There's no point to hiding, no point in pretense. Too much thinking. Way too much thinking. Not nearly enough subtlety in finally glancing back at Wolfwood's face to try and measure his reaction.

Don't think.

That was the idea, wasn't it? Abandon thought, planning, pretense. For creatures like them, though, that is nearly impossible. It is not a matter of trust. He trusts absolutely, completely—more than he trusts himself in some regards, even if Vash has some genuinely and eye-wateringly stupid notions sometimes. Despite his resistance, despite his initial terror, trust happened so easily, so thoroughly, that he cannot pinpoint precisely when or how or anything beyond the why. Natural as breathing, lock and key, hand in glove.

Hand in hand.

Pinned and pinning in the same breath, they circle one another even in stillness, tapping at the edges of boundaries, perhaps. Or simply lingering, simmering in their own indulgence.

A little bit of all of those things.

If he could capture that laugh somehow, Nicholas would. Hold it, keep it like a precious thing, bottled ambrosia as much as it is bottled lightning. That and the… the resonance. The thrum that sounds somehow animal and not. He can feel it just as much as he can hear it, reverberation in his lungs and in his bones.

It is a wonder, just as it is a wonder to be under such close scrutiny, to have Vash's otherwise undivided attention. He likes what he sees, it seems. He wouldn't be here otherwise. There would be that… tell-tale pull of his brows and mouth that he thinks is subtle, but it may as well be a cry of distress to Wolfwood's reckoning. None of that here.

Don't think. Don't fret over misreading the situation, or over the electric sensation plucking every nerve, pooling low and hot.

It is a marvel to breathe in the moment, the here and now—the scents of gunpowder and metal faded to the nutty-near-vegetal-in-kerosene hint of gun oil on gloves and pantlegs; body-warmed leather, earthy, sweetened with the conditioners that prevent its deterioration; simple soap and sand-filtered water and finally, finally, underneath it all, something quintessentially Vash.

But he cannot muse on it too closely. Even if he might want to. To think about it might cut this short, might bring it to an end, might spur doubt, might feed worry. Despite Nicholas' best efforts his expression warms to Vash's humor—at least until he groans, breaking into a pained laugh. His eyes roll, his head pitching back onto the coverlet with a cushioned thump.

"Fuckin' terrible, Needles. Goddamn, do you even hear yourself sometimes?" No, no, he's still laughing, as if something has unraveled, control slipping from his grasp with no way to recover it. His chest and abdomen bunch, tense, relax with each huff. Beneath Vash's straddle (too light, too delicate for his taste), he arches, shimmies, and settles.

Attempts to settle, anyway.

The squeeze of knees to his flanks is tantalizing, heady, spurring a carnal sound he does not bother to swallow down. From this vantage he looks, eyes dilated and dark under lowered lashes, lips rounded and kiss-reddened, dampened with a dart of tongue as he exhales a velvety sigh-hum. Liberated hands settle on the outsides of lean thighs, exploring with interest, ascending slowly.

Buckle by buckle. Seam by seam, knowing full well how to open them. Upward he reaches, further, to the expanses of skin laid bare in windows generally hidden under crimson fabric. Unafraid, he touches, letting his fingertips read the textures both scarred and unmarred.

"Game was to stop thinkin' for a bit, wasn't it?" he teases, the curve of a grin coloring his tone through salient teeth. His palms crest Vash's hips, and with easy strength he pulls, encouraging more weight, more contact. Flush. Gravity is his ally and his enemy at the moment. A note of hubris, maybe. He is tumid in his slacks, heavy and hard and trapped, and he adjusts as best he can hands-free.

A mistake. Or an excellent decision. Not pelvis to pelvis, but it wouldn't take much, and he cannot hide his own physicality. Not at this angle. Nor indeed with the flush tinging his face and neck, the pebbling of his nipples around bright silver barbells.

"Could think of a few things. Like you're wearin' too damn much, and you're not sittin' on my face. But that's against the rules."

Suave, Nicholas. Smooth. He certainly doesn't feel it, but his fingers flex-knead. Left-right. Beat-heartbeat, breathe.

"…Do what comes natural. Whatever comes natural. I'm game." Taut, tense, relax, he challenges, cheeky, curious, nervous.

Hungry.

[shigaeru]

Secret Santa for @monopsys who requested something with Izaya !

[glitterslag]

christmas at the munsons'

Synopsis: we find out what christmas looks like for chrissy and eddie

Warnings: 18+ angst, talk of EDs, (could be triggering for some!!!!) mentions of drugs, some brief smut, scenes of chrissy being an absolute badass

Authors note: you can find my other chrissy x eddie blurbs here: i ii

Chrissy doesn't have the best relationship with her parents. Not any more, at least. In fact, it's gotten so bad lately that she's considering spending the holidays in her dorm room, alone.

Her hallmates have started getting on flights and trains in dribs and drabs, and it's just under a week before Christmas day when she finally caves. She calls Eddie.

"I haven't heard from you in a little while." He says when he picks up the phone. It's casual and light, but she can hear concern beneath the surface. Perhaps disappointment, too.

"How've you been?"

"Good." She lies.

Eddie invites her to come stay with him for Christmas, and she of course declines the offer as many times as she thinks is polite. When Eddie insists for the fifth time, she says yes.

The bone-crushing hug she gives him when he comes to pick her up a few days later is as good as any apology, good as any Christmas gift, and they both come away from it feeling dizzy and relieved.

"Missed you." She mumbles into his shoulder.

"Could've picked up the phone."

"I'm sorry."

The drive down the snowy highway is mostly silent.

"I thought you didn't wanna talk to me any more."

He whispers it into her hair, in the dark, later. They're lying in bed, listening to the wind and the trailer creak. "When you didn't return my calls I thought - I thought I did something wrong, I-"

"You didn't do anything." She says quickly.

Chrissy doesn't know how to explain to him that she feels all wrong again. Maybe even worse than in school. Doesn't know how to say that she's terrified of telling the truth about how lonely she's been feeling. That sometimes, she thinks she'd rather push him away than admit that she doesn't want to spend the holidays alone.

-----

She's embarrassed when she realises she's never really thought about what Christmas might look like for someone like Eddie. She'd suspected that she was in for something pretty different from the hallmarkesque holidays of her own childhood, but what she isn't prepared for is how nice that is.

The night Eddie brings her home they drive around the rich neighbourhoods and look at all the pretty Christmas lights. Wayne's quiet but nice. He teaches her how to make paper chains from old newspapers and magazines, and he doesn't ask her any questions. He doesn't care what they get up to as long as nobody plays the music too loud and they let him sleep when he gets home from his shift. They watch movies and they go for walks, and Chrissy knows that if she didn't feel like moving from the sofa the whole week no-one would force her.

Eddie rolls a joint and they smoke it in the snow, sat on garden furniture and surrounded by the other trailers, lit up in red and green with holiday lights.

"I don't feel it yet." Chrissy says, teeth chattering. "Why don't I feel high yet?"

Eddie laughs.

"It's 'cause we're out in the cold," he says, gently, pulling the joint back out from between her teeth. "It'll hit you when you get back into the warm."

And he's right. They collapse on the sofa in a heap and spend the afternoon giggling at TV commercials.

-----

Max Mayfield stops by one morning and asks if Eddie can take care of her dog while she and her mom go to her aunt's for Christmas. Her jaw drops when Chrissy steps out from behind Eddie in fluffy slippers and a big t-shirt, but she covers it up pretty quickly.

"It's uhh, good to see you, Chrissy." She says politely, shooting Eddie a quizzical smile before she leaves.

Chrissy fights a laugh.

Eddie's still getting used to being seen with her so publicly.

On Christmas Eve they pile into a local bar and see a ton of people they've not seen since high school. Steve Harrington's there, and Jonathan and Nancy, both back from college for the holidays. Graduation suddenly feels like lifetimes ago, and Eddie's only getting nods and smiles, a few hugs, even, from people who tell him it's good to see him. Even Jason gives him a curt nod, raising his beer at him slightly from across the bar. Things are different now.

Chrissy hangs back waiting for her drink to be made at the bar while Eddie talks to some guys he works with at the car repair. When she's finally handed her drink, she brings it over and tucks in next to him, sliding her free hand into his. She rests her cheek on his arm as she listens to the conversations around her.

"You're touching me." Eddie says to her quietly. "In front of everyone."

She smiles up at him.

"Yeah. I am."

Drinks empty and refill again and Steve Harrington's dragging Eddie over to the pool table in the corner. Eddie totally wipes the floor with him and it feels so good to watch.

Chrissy looks on as he teaches Nancy how to hold a pool cue. Seeing him in his element like that, finally having normal, friendly interactions with their former classmates - it makes her chest tight. Watching him making effortless conversation with his workmates about seasonal targets and micro-managing bosses. Watching him standing behind Nancy - who's definitely giving him heart eyes - helping her angle her shot, giving her pointers. She can't even be jealous. It's like he's become this man all of a sudden, while Chrissy's not been looking. Not a boy like Steve. Not even like Jonathan. It's almost unbearable. She just wants to take him home.

It's hours until they're finally squashing into Eddie's small bed, cold hands and feet and noses, condensation dripping down the caravan window.

Chrissy's on him in a second, impatiently pulling off his jeans and underwear.

"I want you in my mouth." She says desperately.

Eddie groans. She's never bold like this.

She puts her tongue on him eagerly, and Eddie lets out a strangled noise.

"You missed me all that time, huh?" He's says in breathless wonder as Chrissy takes him into her throat, his silver-ringed fingers threaded into her hair.

-----

They sleep in late Christmas morning. The present exchange is short and sweet - Chrissy gifts Eddie a record and Wayne a new mug for his collection.

"Sorry it's not much," she explains to Wayne, a little embarrassed. "I didn't know I was coming until a few days ago."

He won't hear any of it, of course.

Wayne buys his nephew new strings for his guitar, and, not quite knowing what a young woman her age would like, hands Chrissy a rose-scented candle.

Eddie buys his uncle a funky tie, and he won't give Chrissy her gift until they're alone, later. He's all red when he hands the little velvet box over, mumbling something about how he's had it a little while, and he knows it's a little cheesy, and he understands if it isn't her thing.

"It's a-"

"I know what it is." She says softly, staring down at the treasure in her hand.

It's a 20-sided dice - Eddie's favourite one. A deep ruby red, slightly marbled and painted with gold numbers. It's set inside a spiral of golden wire, and there's a little pendant loop at the top so it can be threaded onto a necklace.

"Eddie," she whispers.

"I know it's a little dorky-" He starts.

"Did you make this?"

He scratches at his neck, looking slightly to the left of her so he doesn't have to meet her eyes.

"Um, yeah."

"Eddie..."

"You never wear your 86 anymore, so, um. But I know you still have the chain... and I just thought, maybe..."

He trails off.

Chrissy just gets it. He doesn't have to explain. Eddie's given her a piece of him - a piece to keep around her neck, to feel the weight of, even when she's at college and there are state lines between them. It's the most romantic thing she thinks she's ever seen in real life.

"I know you don't play D and D, but-"

"Eddie, shut up." She says. "I love it."

I love you, she thinks, but doesn't say it. She settles for a kiss instead.

-----

Chrissy's agreed to go over to her parents' house for Christmas dinner. Eddie drives her there, holding her hand tight in his the whole way. Her new pendant feels cool and weighty at her throat, makes her feel more grounded.

"It's just a few hours, 'kay? Max." Eddie's coaching her as they round the corner onto her street. "You go in there, you make small talk, you grin and bear it. And stay away from politics."

Dread is rising in her stomach.

"A few hours," he repeats. "And then I'll come and pick you up."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

He drops her off halfway down the road. Her parents don't exactly know about him; Chrissy doesn't even know what she'd say. They're not in a relationship. She doesn't know how she'd label what they are.

The dinner goes abysmally.

The atmosphere is tense and strained from the second she walks through the door. Her grandmother's quiet, her dad disappointed, shooting her these baleful looks from the end of the table. He didn't approve of her moving so far away for college. Wanted her to stay nice and local so he could keep her in his pocket.

Her mother makes the first comment about her body before they've even finished the soup. Chrissy excuses herself to the bathroom and runs her wrists under the cold tap.

Deep breaths, she thinks. Eddie's voice echos in her head. It's only a few hours.

It's halfway through the turkey when she finally has enough. She's mushing food around with her fork and her mother tells her she's not eating enough and that she's getting too big in almost the same breath. Chrissy pushes her plate away and excuses herself to the bathroom for the second time in an hour.

This time she can't stop herself. It's all coming up. Turkey, potatoes, yams. Cranberry sauce.

She rests her cheek on the porcelain and feels the familiar wave of disgust wash over her. She doesn't cry. It's not a fresh and raw pain any more. It's deep and draining and it's sapping the life out of her. She's had enough.

She thinks about calling Eddie, but she doesn't even know if she can stick out the twenty minutes it would take him to get here. She decides to Irish exit. She doesn't owe any of these people a goodbye.

She leaves through the kitchen so no-one in the sitting area can see her pass by. An uncharacteristic surge of spite stops her in her tracks in the doorway. She doesn't know quite what comes over her, but she's almost in a trance when she turns back on herself and picks up the chocolate yule log, resting untouched on the counter top.

No dessert for you, mom. She thinks to herself.

What a shame.

Calmly, Chrissy gathers up her shoes. She opens the door and steps out into the night.

She walks home in a daze. She barely feels the cold of the December evening, fuelled solely by the adrenaline coursing through her body.

Eddie's jaw drops when he opens the door, and a second time when he notices the log, still in tact on a plate in her hands.

"What the h-" He starts.

Wayne appears over his shoulder and she shakes her head at Eddie frantically.

Don't ask, she tells him telepathically. Not now.

"You're just in time, sweetheart." Wayne says obliviously, letting her into the house. "We were just about to order Chinese food."

-----

"Nice of your parents to send dessert." Wayne says through a hefty bite of sweet and sour chicken.

Chrissy nearly chokes on her food.

Neither Eddie nor Wayne are much of a cook. Her and Eddie had taken the van to pick up Chinese takeout, driving all the way to the other side of town to the only place that was open on Christmas night.

On the way, Chrissie breaks down and tells Eddie everything. About the bulimia. About her mom. She tells him things she's never said out loud before, not to anyone. He listens quietly the whole time, holding onto her hand tight and not letting go even to shift gears. He makes sure that she's done before he speaks.

"You don't ever have to go back there." He says quietly.

And then: "I'm sorry I took you over there. I should've realised."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know."

He looks at her in the dark car, eyes big and round.

"Don't keep things like that from me again." He says, finally.

He's so serious it scares her.

-----

He doesn't insist that she eat any of the Chinese food - he knows that what happened at dinner is still fresh. But he vows to keep an eye on what she's eating from now on.

They lie down on the sofa after dinner, Eddie stuffed and Chrissy feeling fragile, but a little better. She's even been picking at prawn crackers.

"M' gonna take care of you from now on."

Wayne's fallen asleep to an old Christmas movie, and they're sitting and talking in low whispers. Eddie's murmuring reassurance into her hair.

"You never have to go back there." He reminds her again and again. "You can always come here. You'll always have a place to stay."

Eddie kisses her on the forehead and pulls her in closer, and for the first time in a really long time, she feels hopeful.

[pharahsgf]

i:m sad lwj gets such a bad rep from jc fans and non wangxian fans in general. he's so good... i struggle to put into words why i like him but he's such a good character. he deserves to not be made ooc in fandom stuff :,|

g-d fr. anyway here's my incomplete list of things i like about lan wangji in no particular order

his resting bitch face and intimidating icy exterior hide a soft and romantic heart but also he is genuinely a bitch and intimidating and would stab someone for disrespecting his husband

the fact that he would stab someone for disrespecting his husband

very strong 'would get rained on to hold his umbrella over a tiny stray cat' energy

when jin zixun tries to peer pressure him into drinking only for lan wangji to 1. not care 2. make the gayest most openly homosexual expression humanly possible when wei wuxian swoops in to save him, no shame whatsoever

every time a social event occurs you see lan wangji sitting somewhere by himself just staring peacefully into the middle distance and thinking lwj thoughts and i always get the distinct impression that lan xichen went to him beforehand like "wangji i know you don't like to socialise but you should really try talking to some people today, it'll be good for you and you might make some new friends" and lan wangji was like hm and proceeded to not do any of that

it's such a stupid cute detail that lan wangji buried a'yuan in a pile of bunnies. like what the hell. i am on the verge of tears

conversation: *gets personal* lwj: *leaves*

his little smirk when he calls wwx boring in ep8 like you can almost see the photoshopped sunglasses and hear denzel curry's ultimate

he's considered an unequaled prodigy when it comes to guqin abilities and inquiry specifically like he can communicate with ghosts by playing music and they're not even physically able to lie to him how is that not the coolest shit ever

HE SAID BYE TO THE BUNNIESSSS

wwx doesn't even expect to be doted on and treated like a princess after coming back lan wangji did that entirely on his own volition. wei wuxian just exists in peace and lan wangji will start picking him up and throwing money at him and composing soaring love ballads dedicated to his beauty

the fact that despite all this he will hesitate for exactly zero seconds to make fun of wwx when he's acting stupid

very strong emotional inertia causing his character to be in a near-constant state of mourning as represented visually by his white clothing and the frost/snow motif that accompanies the respective apotheoses of said mourning. which, in addition to being genuinely heart-wrenching, FUCKS as an aesthetic

associated with rabbits and dragons, easily two of the coolest animals

episode 43 drives me insane. lan wangji with his hair down dressed down domestic as fuck bringing wwx emperor's smile and setting out tea and playing their song, laying no expectations on wwx but making it clear that he's welcome and wanted and offering his love and warmth for wwx when he's ready... augh romance, tenderness, throwing bouquets and roses

"you are not qualified to speak to me"

he's canonically good at math which isn't relevant to anything but i do feel like it adds a new dimension to his character

he wrote a gentle, soul-baring, beautiful song that silently confesses his love for a person who remembered the melody even decades after first hearing it and then made its title a portmanteau of their names

kneel.

*spends 3 years in seclusion to learn from & reflect on his grave sin of defending and siding with wwx the evil demonic cultivator* *returns to immediately add wwx the evil demonic cultivator's inventions to the core curriculum*

was a cute baby so you know he's blessed

he's one of the best if not Thee best cultivator of his generation yet refuses to indulge in the narcissistic posturing his peers engage in and instead uses his privilege and access to exclusive resources to serve lower class people completely for free.. yes lord

*grips sword handle to communicate emotional issues*

very polite and well spoken and clearly well-versed in all kinds of etiquette but if he hates you he has no qualms about being as rude and disrespectful as he reasonably can (pov you are jiang cheng)

he is very fundamentally misunderstood by almost everyone he's ever met and when wwx starts figuring him out and realising what makes him tick he's entirely resistant and hostile to his intrusions despite deeply craving that intimacy and acknowledgement.... mortifying ordeal of being known in its purest form truly. i want to study him in a lab

how he slowly goes from being distant and frosty and rejecting all of wwx's offers of friendship to being so warm and attentive towards him and you look at those gifsets of early lwj vs later lwj and it's like the first rays of sun after a long winter like he's radiant

ally to bi women (nice to mianmian)

when he was punished alongside wwx jc & nhs the first blow landed and he didn't even FLINCH, he sat there back straight and chin up with the dignity of a king and wwx was so impressed he caught himself mid-overreaction to follow lan wangji's example. absolutely iconic

188cm

the fact that he spends the entire gusu lectures arc in an ongoing emotional crisis bc wei wuxian is too attractive and he doesn't know how to deal w it

there have been zero small animals who didn't immediately trust lan wangji with their life so again. blessed

[lilietsblog]

Me, I'm in Ukraine.

Summer. We used to get cool summers where a light jacket was reasonable to have on you while walking around on the average day (20-30 C). Then 2010 was so hot it made it into memes, everyone who could quickly got an AC window unit or several, and it's just been like that since. Except for when it rains, temperature during the day is above 30 C in the shade. Being outside is nice if and only if you have a way to quickly cool down - ie a body of water, a heavily air conditioned room to return to, a garden hose. Being inside in a room without AC (those are expensive) is a constant negotiation of trying to not fucking bake. Important high points include seasonal fruit/veggies/berries, the ability to walk barefoot on grass, and the ability to swim in outdoor water reservoirs.

Autumn. Air slowly cools down, making everything nicer even as mosquitos are around ever more, until suddenly The Rain Season comes. At which point the ground will just not be dry again until next summer. Badly maintained roads acquire full width puddles that you need wall-hugging acrobatics to walk past. Walking the dog acquires a mandatory extra boss phase called "washing the dog's paws, which the dog does not appreciate". A lot more tolerable in the city center where roads are asphalt and cleaned and maintained-ish. There, the biggest problem is the sheer wild unpredictability of the air temperature. You're leaving the house at 8am and it's 15 C. What'll it be at 4pm? 10 C? 20 C? Only god knows and he's not telling. Better dress in layers and hope you have the exact right footwear for that specific range of temperatures. Special shoutout also to questionable central heating schedules that can easily make this the coldest time in the year just because your house is not heated yet and it's already 10 C and you're in an old soviet building made from shit and sticks and the insulation is non-existent.

Winter. Has basically four modes. 1, rare, usually just early December / late November if that: dry and warm-ish, 0-5 C. Walkable, fine, the biggest problem is that autumn coats are too cool and winter coats are too warm. Might want an extra coat for specifically 0-10 C. 2, increasingly common, absolute hell: warm-ish and wet. 0-5 C, meaning the snow that had fallen and accumulated earlier starts melting just enough to seep through your pants and footwear, but not enough to become flat and form normal puddles instead of hills and dunes of wet slush all over everywhere. The ideal footwear is knee-high gumboots. Even in the city center there will often be enough snow that just got packed underfoot that the street cleaners can't keep up, on the outskirts... If you have to walk anywhere at all for any reason, your feet are wet. That's just a fact. 3, most common: light frost, 0 - -10 C. If it's dry in early winter or after a long enough warm spot that everything really melted away, it's nice. The ground is just frozen enough to not be dirty, there are frozen shallow piddles to slide around on, and you have just the right winterwear that even outdoor walks are nice for a while. If it comes after wet hell though, congrats: it's black ice time, and it won't even be flat. It'll have ridges and valleys in the shape the slush was holding as it froze. Still better than wet hell: at least you will be dry and clean as you slip and fall and need to go to the hospital. Dry warm feet cover a multitude of sins. Black ice ends when someone salts/ashes the road and/or when it snows again, at which point you need to shovel. Which is actually surprisingly nice as an outdoor physical exercise, at least for a little bit before your back breaks in half, so ymmv. 4, second rarest: Deep Frost. -10 and lower. You still have the right winterwear, just need to layer more sweaters and tights and socks, but your face is starting to really not appreciate prolonged exposure to outside air. Kinda fun because it doesn't happen often, but can also suck if you need to be outside a lot and/or don't have the right wintertech to keep your ears warm. For all of these, how nice it is indoors depends on your heating/insulation/ventilation situation. Personal advice: don't let it get below 18 C indoors, because around 17 is when your hands start boycotting the idea of doing anything requiring any manual dexterity whatsoever.

Spring. Absolute shitshow. Will there be a snowstorm harder that any during the winter? Will you get +25 C in early April? Will you get +25 C in late March and then a snowstorm in 3 days? Will the weather be stuck on 15 C for over a month or pass that point without stopping? Better not be weather sensitive in health because if you are, basically just Get Fucked. If you're on central heating, even odds of baking because it's suddenly warm before they turn it off, freezing because there's a sudden cold spell after they do, or both in the same year just because fuck you. Special shoutout to slush and snowmelt streams and also all the mud unfreezing since autumn, making knee-high gumboots the optimal footwear choice again. At least it's warmer. And after a very visually dull uniformly white winter the whole nature thing is a delight.

Crafting a take that Tumblr users' disdain for warm weather and love of fall and winter is a symptom of our disconnect from the body, the land, the rhythms of natural life, and so on. Our ancestors understood that the sun would always rise again, that kings would always come and go, and that winter sucks ass. All their folklore worth a damn, all their songs and festivals, knew this.

Liquid modernity, Capitalism, Whiteness, Faustian civilisation, central heating, whatever, has made us forget, made us a retiring, neurotic people in love with age, death, and shivering. The winter has taken root in us, frost rime in the drupelets of the lungs, ice clotting the chambers of the heart, and we think Halloween is better than Easter and pretend to be excited to wear sweaters.