#it's also not the exact opposite of inevitable

[lurochar]

Pull You Down

Warnings: None? Short drabble

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Ears. 

You have animal ears. And a tail too. Why? What’s happening? You looked relatively the same as you did when you were alive, just with a few extra animalistic appendages that really reminded you of a deer of some sort. (Perhaps not the fangs and claws, but…)

Ah, why a deer of all things?

Deer tended to remind you of Alastor and that was the last thing you needed to be thinking of at the moment–

Your ears perked up on their own (that would take getting used to) and you blinked when you heard the noise of… static(?) and it seemed to be getting louder and louder with every second that passed by.

You shook a little, feeling that static crackle on your body and some strange different feeling instincts in you were telling you to runrunrun, but for some reason, you did the exact opposite and watched as a tall figure seemed to arise out of the shadows straight from the ground.

“Darling!”

What?

“How wonderful to see you again!” The tall, tall man (also deer-like) spread out his arms with enthusiasm. “I knew placing that sigil on your soul was absolutely the correct choice! Why, it even alerted me the second you spawned in Hell and your location!”

What the…?

The man was walking closer to you now, still grinning that insane grin. “You have even taken a few of my features due to the sigil. I did not expect that. I do hope you are satisfied with them, however? We do not get to pick our appearances down here.”

Wait.

“Alastor?” You asked in a slight daze, almost in disbelief. You had not recognized this man on sight as your husband, but as he kept on talking, he definitely sounded the exact same as Alastor (though that filter was… odd coming straight from his mouth?).

“Of course, dearest!” Alastor seemed amused as you gaped at him. “I suppose I will forgive you for taking so long to recognize your own husband this one time. Demons are quite the shocking sight for new arrivals here in Hell.” His grin widened and his eyes stared at you maniacally.

Of course, you were never meant for Hell and he had realized that back when he was alive. It was awful and probably even downright evil of him to do, but he had placed a voodoo sigil on your soul, knowing Heaven would want nothing to do with dark magic, and ensuring you would be sent down to Hell where he would inevitably end up.

He would tolerate some years of separation at best, but for eternity? It wasn’t happening and if Alastor had to drag you down to Hell himself in order to have you in his arms once again…

Well, he would do so happily.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Are You Sure?! - Episode 7 Observations

9.5/10 ☆

Something clicked for me in the latest AYS?! episode. After years of following these two people and getting excited for any interaction or information regarding them, it was now perhaps the first time when watching them felt like not witnessing something special. Oh, I know how this sounds, but it's not what you think and I will explain.

When I say it didn't feel special I meant that nothing felt like a novelty. You know how shocked and excited we all became when Jimin called Jungkook during a birthday wlive? Or the collective metaphorical screaming on social media every time one would get close into the other one's space in some behind the scenes clip? That reaction for me was also a result of having to see that in a larger context in which jikook were not always the main focus.

Now with AYS?! and seven episodes in, I'm used to basically everything. The evening and morning routine, the soft talking, the flirting, the playfighting, the way they eat together. The nakedness and all the tattoos on display. I've developed a tolerance to it. And episode 7 really helped in cementing that. Yeah, they're half naked in a hot spring. Of course they are. They're brushing their teeth and do their morning skincare routine together. Of course they are. Jungkook buys the snacks and Jimin is in charge of feeding him. Of course. They laugh at the same things and everything is funny when they're together. Of course they do. They're playfighting again? Why would anyone be surprised at this point?

And I love that we got here. It's everything I wanted without ever thinking that it could be possible. It is extremely satisfying and fun to watch them. It has always been, but AYS?! was an open window into their lives together in a way that it hadn't happened before.

Sapporo is a special segment for many reasons. And as much as it's fun to see them have a good time, the impending military enlistment looms like a shadow over their trip. Jungkook is the one who seems intentional in talking about it in a way that makes light of the situation, while Jimin is more on the silent side.

But all this inevitably made me think of a downside. Because how am I suppose to go back to waiting for an aknowledged look while Jimin and Jungkook would sit at opposite ends in an interview setting? Or not doing a wlive together? Getting minimal interactions because there's 5 other people there? It would feel like something is not right. Jimin and Jungkook come in a package and they do everything together. They laugh and never get bored together. Jungkook cooks for Jimin while Jimin fills the exact needed space and purpose in that kitchen. Jimin can talk about learning to snowboard with Jungkook's friends and that conversation to remain between them and no one else. They can take showers together and then act like stupid boys in some endurance contest in the freezing water and it's their own thing and theirs only.

AYS?! Sapporo is bittersweet. For Jimin and Jungkook because as much fun they have, they know that their remaining time of freedom is getting to a close. Snow is beautiful there and they are together, but in a few weeks whatever sentiment that might evoke will be in the back of their minds when their reality will be completely different. That's why making those last minute memories together was so important. And they knew that and Jungkook felt the need to say it out loud. Like a constant reminder of how special those few days were.

And it's bittersweet for me too. While there's always the option of rewatching, who knows when such an opportunity (and privilege) will arise once again? Maybe never. Maybe AYS?! will be the first and last time to be able to take a peak through that window at their life...

[officialundertakersmoocher]

can u do the “being ____’s lover” thing but with grelle pls? sfw and nsfw too. have a nice day/night!!

Being Grelle's Lover may Include...

i feel like it's pretty obvious that Grelle is bisexual and doesn't really care about your gender

as long as you like her she loves you ❤️

Grelle is super hyper all of the time so she will constantly be overjoyed just to be in your presence

she would also be a big fan of playing dress up with you and trying her best to fashion you in all different shades of red

girly activities would be her favorite. you will be having tea with her and playing dress up because you love her!

grelle is always showering you with attention and love and if you can't handle it, bye bye baby!

she would be the type of girlfriend to feed you dessert off of a spoon and if you found this embarrassing, she would continue to be even more dramatic about it to tease you :)

she would love cutesy displays of affection such as swinging your hands as you walk or spinning each other in a make-shift dance

you probably won't be able to escape the inevitable moment where grelle brings you to her office and the teasing ensues

(grelle loves to talk about you to her coworkers)

she would find ways to see you almost every day as long as her work permits it

you could be minding your business and poof! here she is!

she's definitely an eccentric, and i can imagine that she would love to take on many hobbies (even if she doesn't keep them up for long)

she would also love to learn about your hobbies and even try them out (maybe fail a little- but of course you could comfort her your all your might-)

she would really love if you were to plan cute dates for the both of you to enjoy- especially something romantic like a coffee shop or book store!

grelle is also the type of girlfriend to start a small argument with you for the soul purpose off gaining your attention and so that you can both cuddle afterwards

Nsfw

i can imagine that grelle loves the chase

she would be overjoyed if you send her some steamy pictures while she was at work

she would really love make out sessions and the sensual touching that comes before sex

she's a woman, of course, and loves to take it slow

that doesn't mean, though, that she wouldn't be into anything kinky, in fact it's the exact opposite

she loves roleplay and fake scenarios

it would be her dream if you would indulge her and let her play out this kink

she also would love bondage, and she wouldn't care which end receives it

she also would love to experiment with toys and such

she definitely is a crazy girl in the bedroom, and would love to try out anything new

if you really do not want to indulge in any kinky activities, she wouldn't push it but she might make some lighthearted jokes about you being the the more vanilla one 🤍

Grelle is the type to immediately fall asleep after sex, but she would love to cuddle

she also doesn't mind doing casual sexual activities and she loves make out sessions

she could easily get bored of doing the same things in the bedroom, though, but she wouldn't keep it to herself and doesn't mind having healthy conversations about boundaries and what you both want

[percyluvr]

hi! can i request child of apollo reader with a cold/is sick x percy jackson who takes care of her lovingly even though theyre just friends? kind of like that lyric in apple cider "even if we're just friends, we could be more than that." thank u hehe!!

percy jackson x reader summary: you get the flu and percy takes care of you wc: 613

You told yourself that you would not, no, could not get sick. The number of campers coming into the infirmary was increasing daily, and you weren't sure why. It happened every year around the beginning of summer. Probably due to the influx of new campers, you thought.

But of course, whenever you promise yourself something, the exact opposite happens, and now, here you were in the Apollo cabin with your best friend, Percy, taking care of you.

When you had first gotten sick, you thought it was just some common cold, and thought it would be a little weird to have gotten a cold during the beginning of summer, you figured it was just due to the changing of the weather and you would be fine within a couple of days, but of course with your luck you had gotten one of the worst cases of the flu that any of your siblings in the Apollo cabin had ever seen.

You'd begged Percy to not try to take care of you, since he'd most likely get sick too, and it would be worse than you, since he wasn't an Apollo kid, but of course he wouldn't listen, insisting that he needed to take care of his poor best friend who was suffering so deeply, his words not yours. You begrudgingly accepted his help, because honestly, who can resist Percy Jackson when he's giving you puppy eyes? Not you, apparently.

"You wanna know what I think?" Percy says, breaking the small moment of silent before you inevitably cough up a lung again.

"Not really."

"Too bad. I think that you're sick because you overwork yourself all the time."

"I said I didn't want to know what you think."

"And I said too bad. Seriously, you need to stop overworking yourself, or you're going to keep getting sick like this. It's like, scientifically proven or something."

"Okay, whatever. You're not a doctor, I am. I think I know what's good for me."

"You think. Emphasis on think."

You roll your eyes, and Percy goes back to laying his head on your shoulder, which you had told him numerous times not to do.

"Percy, seriously. Stop getting your face so close to mine, you're going to get sick."

"I don't care. I want to be near you, and maybe my charm and good looks can help you feel better."

"Not how that works, but sure, if you say so."

"I do say so."

You roll your eyes for what feels like the six hundredth time, and put your arm around his shoulder.

When you begin to cough again, Percy jolts up and runs over to the cabin in the corner, getting out a large bag of cough drops. He picks your favorite flavor out, and grabs your water bottle. He then hands both of them to you.

"Hey, I kinda like you being sick." You raise an eyebrow. "Okay, stop. That's not what I mean. I just mean that I can finally be your personal nurse, and not the other way around. 'Cause you're always healing me, but I've never been able to help you back, and now I feel like I can."

"Aw, Percy, that's actually really sweet. I'm glad my suffering is making you happy."

He rolls his eyes in response and sits back down on the bed next to you.

"I know I'm sweet. I'm also going to ignore the other thing you said," he says, putting his arms around you and bringing you to lay your head down on his chest.

It doesn't take long before you're deeply sleeping and using his chest as a pillow while he gently strokes your hair.

[wilsonsmcgillsweatshirt]

In my opinion

There is no denying that House loves Cuddy. It's obvious, everybody knows it, there's no debate. Cuddy also loves House, again, obvious, no debate. But the way that Cuddy loves House is not the same as the way that Wilson does.

Cuddy acknowledges Houses issues, and she loves him in spite of them. She sees the worst parts of him, the "undesirable" parts of House, and she chooses to look beyond them. She sees the man that he is aside from those things, and she makes the conscious choice to coexist with those parts of him in exchange for being together with the parts that she loves. An example would be House's jealousy. She acknowledges that he can be extremely jealous, and she agrees to look past it because he's also very loving and protective. That's why when House continues to make mistakes, she becomes more and more disappointed. Because she sees a man who she believes could do better, falling back into his "old ways." She will try to convince herself that it's not a surprise when he does "bad" things, and she tries to convince herself that she doesn't need him to change, but the truth is that she does. Cuddy is a mother. She is a very mature, professional woman, and she wants to settle down. House, as he exists in the show, would not be able to live up to par with those expectations. I'm not saying he couldn't be a great dad to Rachel, or that he wouldn't love Cuddy, but he would realistically would not be able to act the way she needs and deserves for the rest of their lives. And when he does inevitably do something destructive, she will struggle to deal with it. Because she sees House as someone split down two sides, the "good" side, and the "bad" side, and she will expect him to focus on the "good" side, so when House does something wrong, it will feel like a personal attack, because she will see it as him not fighting hard enough to not give in to his "bad" side for her. And that's not to say anything bad about Cuddy, because the fact that she needs somebody who is the type of person that House just can not realistically be is neither of their faults. But I believe that House fully understands all of this. He is crumbling under the pressure of living up to Cuddy's expectations. He is constantly trying to fight his "bad" side so that he can be what she needs. But in reality, he is not two separate parts. There is no "good" and "bad" House. They are one in the same. With her, he has to fight to be what she needs. He has to fight to change. So when stressful things happen, his fight or flight response kicks in, and he runs. Because he's scared. He's scared that he is going to do something that will disappoint her. He is scared he won't live up to her expectations. With Cuddy, he has to sacrifice parts of himself to attempt to be who she needs. And it's just not sustainable. You can't live like that forever. All the good becomes overshadowed by constant anxiety and stress. It leads to House's mental health plummeting because he starts to hate himself for not being able to get rid of that "bad side." And so when Cuddy needs him during stressful times, he can't bring himself to be there for her fully, because he is so focused on the "good" side of him coming out, that he starts to lose himself.

With Wilson, however, it is basically the exact opposite. Wilson doesn't see two different sides of House. He sees one person who is incredibly multifaceted. He recognizes those "undesirable" parts of House, and he loves them just the same as he loves the "good" parts. Because he sees no divide. When House does things that are hurtful, he still calls him out, but he doesn't see it as a personal failure. He sees it as just a part of House. Like yeah, he'll insult your fatal illness, but he'll shoot some random guy with a spud gun for insulting you. Where as Cuddy would see those as two separate, distinct sides, Wilson sees those as a conjoined whole. He doesn't love House in spite of his issues. He loves House because of his issues. Because House's struggles are a part of what makes House who he is. So Wilson can fight with him and be mad at him and hurt him, but he doesn't expect House to throw away or "overcome" parts of himself. He would love for House to give up drugs, but he doesn't expect House to give up his addictive tendencies. There's a balance, and it's all an equal part of House. And so because of this, when House and Wilson are put in stressful situations, House doesn't feel like he has to run. He feels safe. Because he knows even if he says something wrong, and even if he upsets Wilson, Wilson is not going to leave him. Wilson does not have these high expectations for him that he feels like he is being forced to fill. And so he can focus on genuinely being in the moment and being there for Wilson because he is not fighting with himself, and he is not scared. He has trust in Wilson and enough trust in their relationship to know that they will work things out. I think the fact that they have very similar issues also helps a lot. He can be mean to Wilson and lash out, and Wilson will recognize that House is doing that because he is scared and because he loves him. In return, Wilson can also insult House and make fun of him because he's just as destructive. They meet each other on the same level because they are equals. House does not feel like Cuddy's equal. He feels like she is better than him, and he can't be himself with her. Him and Wilson know each other as well as they know themselves, and they're not constantly making the other feel like there are high expectations they have to fight to reach in order to love each other or be "worthy" of each other. They're just House and Wilson.

But I have no idea what I'm talking about, so take this with a grain of salt.

[jacensolodjo]

I love certain people but if at any point the thought process is 'besides the invasion of Ukraine, russia is actually okay because it stands up to the USA/West etc.,', I'm gonna have to wonder where the FUCK y'all have been the past fucking 100+ years aka YOUR ENTIRE LIFE russia has been not okay.

I want y'all to think long and hard every time, EVERY TIME, russia is in opposition to something the USA/west does. (always be suspicious why they are against it. believe it or not a country isn't always against something because it is morally/ethically right to be against it. they are against it because they don't like the other country. Surprise! while you may shrug and say 'same difference' haha read on) and then WATCH WHAT THEY DO. you WATCH. they will do THE THING THEY JUST CHIDED THE WEST ON DOING. Maybe a month later, maybe two months. Who knows. BUT THEY WILL DO IT!! IT IS THEIR THING!!! Or even better, IN THEIR HISTORY they have done the exact fucking thing they just chided the west on doing. And no I'm not even gonna say 'oh a hundred years ago they did this thing'. But they did this thing they are chiding the west on within living memory. or are ACTUALLY ACTIVELY DOING IT!!! While saying to the world 'ohhhh bad evil West, you no good West, how AWFUL!!!' They will shake their finger about war crimes and GUESS WHAT THEY ARE DOING RIGHT NOW??? They don't get to sit there and say SHIT while they do the same thing they're saying is bad. Any other country pulls that, they get hung out to dry. russia does it? Why is it okay?

It's called fucking whataboutism and it is still alive and well in russia. It was invented there and you are FALLING FOR IT EVERY FUCKING DAY. Because why? Russia is not your friend. Russia is killing the people you say you care about. Russia is killing people. EVERY DAY. Just because one day it also says it is against the shit you are does not mean you start going "yay russia! you tell 'em russia!"

Russia knows what you dislike about your own damn country, about the West, and it mocks you for agreeing with it for going 'bad West'. You earn points with absolutely no one. You merely look silly when, inevitably, russia does the bad things it does later after you have praised it for saying the same things you do. When it was advantageous for it to go 'bad West'. Or when it does something politically that you say is awful when the West does it. Because, again, it is STILL bad no matter what country does it.

After it has murdered Ukrainians. Chechens. Georgians. Siberians. Jews. Muslims. Gay people. Trans people. Black People. Asian people. The people you claim to give a fuck about. The people it has been murdering for decades. For centuries.

You want to sit there and go 'yay russia' because it happened to go 'naughty West'? Imperialism is Imperialism is Imperialism. Just cause it's a different flavor of it doesn't mean a goddamn fucking thing. It does the same bad shit you hate the West for doing. Russia just wears an ushanka while doing it.

I grew up with 'russia bad'. Idk when things stopped with 'russia bad'. But can we go back to 'russia bad'? Being anti-USA/West does not make some entity good. Take that fucking thought out of your head. russia bad. say it with me. russia. bad.

[luvjunie]

— Unforgettable ( 3 )

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: sooo much fluff, plot progression, a glimpse into reader and miles’ relationship, the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤭, and another itty bitty plot twist

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 3,254

a/n: i know y’all ain’t think i forgot about this series!!! but here’s a long chapter as an apology since i made y’all wait so long </3 also did i say an ‘itty bitty’ plot twist? cause i be lying. recap of part two is in small italics!

prev | next

“You had her approval as soon as you called her Mrs. Morales.”

Your head tilted in question, eyes panning to the ceiling in thought. “Isn’t that normal? Calling someone’s parent by their last name?”

A comfortable silence settled, just for a moment.

“You’d think so.” A smile curled Miles’ lips, the memory of when he’d introduced the first girl he’d ever liked to his parents flashing into his mind; his interest in tossing the ball paused momentarily as images from the past flooded his thoughts.

Wait… Why was he thinking about her?

. . .

“Miles?”

“Milesss?”

“Huh?” Miles blinked quickly as he brought himself back to the present, his slightly startled gaze landing on your puzzled expression.

“Earth to Morales?” Your tone leaked with a playfulness as you quirked a brow at him. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Nah, sorry,” Miles cleared his throat, then scratched his forehead with a laugh he hoped didn’t sound too awkward. “Just spaced out for a sec. What’d you say?”

“I saiddd,” Laying on your stomach as your thumbs twiddled along the screen of your phone, you sent a quick text before you continued. “—It’s getting kinda late, and if I’m not home in the next thirty minutes my Grandma will alert the entire police force over my absence.” you chuckled, the perpetual buzzes of replies sounding from your phone only furthering your point.

“Oh— Yeah, you’re right. My bad, I didn’t even realize.” Miles stood and grabbed his coat from the hook off his closet door before he turned towards you with a warm grin.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

—

Miles had been staring at his ceiling ever since he got back home, headphones blasting music over his ears to drown out the inevitable. For what seemed like hours, and for what probably was, he was trapped in an endless rumination he didn’t want to be a part of.

The grace his weekend temporarily granted him had unfortunately come to an end, and before he knew it, there was a knock on his bedroom door that reminded him of the upcoming drive him and his dad had to make back to Visions.

—

“Dude, this is so stupid. My head is about to explode from all this thinking.” Clad in a wifebeater and plaid boxers as he laid on the top bunk, Miles whined out what had only been his hundredth complaint in the span of fifteen minutes.

“And I can’t find my bonnet!”

Miles’ voice was muffled by the fluff of his pillow, the same pillow that was clutched tightly and caged between his arms as an effort to cling onto the last bit of his sanity. Also the same pillow that’d gone flat nearly two months ago. How convenient.

He thought talking Ganke’s ear off about all his feelings would help sort through his thoughts, but it did the exact opposite. Miles’ feelings for you were growing, that was an undeniable fact, so he still couldn’t figure out why after an entire year, Gwen was still on his mind. Why couldn’t he just forget about her?

“I really like this girl, man. Like, really, really like her. Like, Sunflower ain’t got shit on this girl, like her.” Miles blinked, astonished at his own words as he carried on, “Like, I offered to walk her home instead of having my mom drive her, like her—“

“Bro— Bro. I get it,” Ganke interrupted.

“I didn’t even know I could feel like this for someone else!” Pulling himself into a seated position, Miles let his legs dangle over the side of the bed. “I mean, I even let her meet my parents. You know how I am about that!” He exclaimed, arms outstretched as if they would help him present his case better. Ganke, in fact, did not know how he was about that.

“That obviously means I’m over Gwen! Right?”

No answer.

“Right?”

“I dunno, dude! Now you see why I don’t even bother dealing with that kind’a junk. It’s confusing as hell. “ Ganke’s eyes darted from side to side as they tracked the video game on his PC’s monitor, tongue poking at his lip in intense concentration. His half-baked advice to Miles was as much as he could muster without losing focus on his Call of Duty mission. “That’s love for you, man.”

Miles’ eyes went wide and his heart began to race. “Woah woah woah— I ain’t say anything about love!” Technically, he did, just in different words.

With a weighted sigh the controller plunked out of Ganke’s hands and down onto the desk, ‘MISSION FAILED’ flashing in bold onto the screen.

“Alright, look,” Ganke spun around in his chair and glanced up at the top bunk. “If you like this girl as much as you say you do, why don’t you just go for it? What’s stopping you? A girl who’s not even here anymore?” he scoffed. “Quit dwelling on the past and look at what’s right in front of you. You know, someone who’s actually in this universe.”

Miles sat with pursed lips as he stared down at his open palms, treading in the water of his thoughts.

“You know what,” Head raising, he looked to his roommate with a newfound determination. “You’re right, Ganke. Starting tonight, I’m done thinking about the past.” Miles nodded.

“Great, now either let me get back to my mission in peace, or grab a damn controller and help me.”

Ganke was right. Gwen’s gone, and she wasn’t coming back. It’s not even possible.

Miles let the conclusion settle within him as he dug around in the junk drawer for the spare controller.

It’s time for him to move on.

—

As you relaxed on your back in the room you’d been in more times than you could even remember at this point, head idly bopping to an album by Tears for Fears, you thought back to the time before you knew Miles. And even though you hadn’t known him for nearly as long as you’d known yourself— maybe just caught up in the whirlwind of something new and exciting, or him in general— you couldn’t help but feel as if his presence had been missing from your life this entire time.

Spending the day with him had become as normal as breathing to you. His space had become your space (his words), and it rang true as you hummed along to the tune echoing from the record player on his desk.

“Help me to decide. Help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure. Nothing ever lasts forever…”

The song ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ wrapped you snug in a warm sense of nostalgia, it having been one of your favorites since middle school. And paired with being around your favorite person— you were sure you never wanted to leave this moment. You smiled to yourself at the upside down image you had of Miles as you let your head hang over the side of his bed, the beads on the ends of your braids clinking against his wooden floors when your head tilted with a new found query.

“Miles,”

He hummed, but it wasn’t the kind that sounded as if you’d interrupted him, or as if he were annoyed. It was the kind that let you know he was interested in whatever you wanted to tell him, and that you had his attention even if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Okay, bear with me here. And answer carefully, because this kind of decides the type of person you are and whether I’ll even speak to you afterwards.”

“Wait, what is it?” He quickly looked up at you—upside down you, at least— with concerned eyes and you struggled to hide your grin.

“What color do you think science is?”

“Are you serious?” He deadpanned.

Your brow raise was his answer.

“Green, obviously.”

“Interesting choice. Why green?”

Miles shrugged, “Cause of the environment. Plants are green. And when I think of plants, I think of photosynthesis. Photosynthesis, equals science. Therefore,” pen in hand, he made a ‘viola’ gesture. “Green.”

“Mm,” You scrunched your nose, eyes panning back to the ceiling. “I guess I can see that.”

“And math is blue.” He tacked on.

“Blue!?” You balked, flipping over onto your stomach so his face was right side-up now. “Math? Blue? Are you deadass?”

“As dead as ass can be.” Miles quipped with a snort and continued to scribble away at the page he’d been sketching on for the last half hour.

“History is blue, not math!” You scoffed.

“Alright Y/n, what other color would math be then?” He asked incredulously.

“Red, duh.”

“Red?” He repeated breathlessly. “Why would math be red?”

“Well,” you started, “Math makes me angry. And when I think about anger, I think about the color red, just like everybody else does. And I hate red, just like I hate math. Numbers and letters do not belong together, just like pineapple on pizza. Therefore,” you mimicked his previous gesture to the air with a confident grin. “Red.”

“Pineapple— Numbers… What?” Miles blinked at you with both disbelief and confusion, the corners of his mouth threatening to expose his amusement as they lifted. “That’s it? That’s your grand explanation?”

“Mm-hm.” You hummed proudly, chin perched in both your hands.

Miles shook his head as his smile finally made itself known, dimples and all the moment your lashes batted at him.

“Not gon’ lie to you, that sounded like a whole bunch’a bullshit.” He laughed at your fake offended expression.

One of Miles’ favorite things about you was how you always seemed to ramble about everything, and nothing at the same time. He thought it was adorable.

“Well, the math part I understand, I guess.” he shrugged. “But you can’t possibly hate the color red all that much.”

Your brows furrowed at him, “What makes you say that?”

“Cause,” Miles turned his sketchbook towards you, the drawing he’d been working on this entire time revealed to be a moment he’d caught of you, gazing up at his ceiling just the way you were a moment ago. “Look.”

You nearly felt your heart stop as you took in what was in front of you. All this time while you were in your own world, singing along to whatever song came and went, he’d been focused solely on you. You dragged your eyes up from the paper so they’d meet his, your calves swiftly tucking under your thighs when you rushed to sit up in a straighter position.

“I—Is that me?” You blabbed out before you could think.

“Nah, it’s Boo-Boo the fool.” Miles huffed out a laugh. “Yes, it’s you dummy.”

Gentle strokes of red to the thin paper framed your face and lips, the attention to detail he used brought your eyes to life on the page, and he’d even managed to capture the beads on the bottom of your braids, too.

“How the hell did you do that?”

He shrugged shyly and turned his artwork to face him once more, studying the page as if he hadn’t been doing just that all this time. His heart was beginning to race faster than he’d originally predicted, and he wondered if he should’ve shown you.

“It’s kind of muscle memory at this point.”

Miles heard the words that came out of his own mouth, and you did too, but it was like the both of you comprehended exactly what he’d said at the same time.

“Don’t—“ He tried, but it was too late, you were already gushing, and he was already blushing.

“Awwwww!”

“Please—“

“Milessss!” you teased, ignoring his plea.

“Stop it.” Flustered, he shielded a smile behind his hand and tried to look anywhere else but your face.

“You’re so cute when you blush.”

—

Things were beyond easy with Miles.

The two of you never ran out of things to talk about and he always matched your energy, as if he were the other half of you.

There were no awkward moments, or pressure towards the other about making a move, because deep down you both knew what this was, and that everything would fall into place with time.

It was apparent in the way he looked at you, in how perfectly you fit in his arms when he hugged you goodbye, and how you always relaxed in his embrace when he would hold onto you just a bit longer.

Your first date went perfectly. Well, not really, but that’s what made it even better.

An ominous ‘be ready in 20 mins’ text to your phone and about a half hour later, Miles popped up at your door, pink tulips in hand and a smile big enough to match his signature jacket.

The two of you decided to catch a movie after a short train ride to the theater, and he let you pick. Horror being one of your favorite genres, that’s what you went with, and like everything else that came with you, Miles agreed.

But just thirteen minutes in at one of the simplest jumpscares (if you could even call it one), Miles let out a scream belonging on one of the highest vocal registers your ears had ever heard, and it sent you into such an uncontrollable fit of laughter that you ended up accidentally spilling your fresh popcorn all over the floor.

Miles’ ego wasn’t nearly big enough for him to remain embarrassed once the tears started rolling from your eyes, and eventually, the laughter he tried to stifle made itself known to everyone sitting around you. And when you say everyone, you mean everyone.

It only took two minutes of you guys cackling and snorting before the both of you were asked to leave, and you had no idea how you made it out of the theater with how hard your stomachs were cramping.

—

Sure, the movie hadn’t gone quite as planned, but you didn’t mind and neither did he. As long as you both were in each other’s company, you wouldn’t mind watching paint dry.

The blue hue of the night had long enveloped the city, and as you and Miles sat up on the roof of his apartment, the dimmed fairy lights twinkling in the darkness from where they were strung across the perimeter, you made a mental note to study up on the movie you told your Grandma you were staying out late to see.

You leaned into Miles and rested your head on his shoulder, knees pulling to your chest as you exhaled softly.

“You cold?”

Far from it, actually.

A perpetual breeze prompted your bodies to curl into each other more, though goosebumps and chattering teeth were nowhere in sight, only fingers secretly inching closer and hearts growing fonder.

“I should be asking you, I’m wearing your jacket.” you joked.

“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’m alright.”

The silence was comfortable. You didn’t want to go home just yet and Miles wasn’t ready to say goodbye for the night, so you stayed.

This had become a new norm for the two of you, so much so that this was pretty much how all your hangouts ended. You’d stay just a little longer, and then he’d take you home. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but for some weird reason you always felt much safer when you were with Miles, like he’d be able to protect you if anything were to happen when the two of you were together.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Miles’ voice was quiet, nearly drowned out from the lively sounds of the city around you. You were surprised you even heard it.

You swallowed, and it took so much effort to form your lips around the simple word you answered with. “W-what?”

He cleared his throat as his posture straightened slightly. “Like, do you know what love is? Is what I mean...” He clarified quickly, mentally cursing himself for how badly he worded things, even if it’s what he meant. He didn’t even know if you felt the same.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, prompting his own to turn towards you, but you didn’t meet his eyes. You settled for toying with the sleeve of his jacket as your heart began to thrum a little faster.

Nibbling at the inside of your lip, you inhaled quietly before answering. “When they’re the first person your mind thinks of when you hear the word ‘love’. Or maybe when the thought of them gets you out of bed in the morning instead of your alarm clock. You know when you know, basically. That’s what I was taught, and I think it checks out.” you glanced over at him, and he felt like time stopped when your eyes locked.

“Do you?” you asked.

“H-Huh?” Miles was enthralled with how pretty you looked, and how your features were perfectly illuminated by the gentle glow of the city lights, so much so that he could hardly think straight.

Rolling your eyes and suppressing a giggle, you shook your head at him. “—Do you know what love is, dummy.”

“Not exactly— uh, I don’t think so, no.” Miles’ jaw tensed and his gaze met yours once more. The twinkle in your eyes temporarily dimming due to the fear of this all being in your head.

“Oh.” you murmured.

“But I think I know what it feels like.” He said softly.

“Really?”

Lips parting slightly for a shaky breath to pass, Miles nodded. “Positive.”

Your eyes fell down to his lips almost immediately, then lifted back up to see that his had done the same to yours.

“Well… What does it feel like?”

The question left your mouth long before you could’ve thought to stop it, yet regret was the last thing you felt. What you were feeling was something entirely different.

Your faces grew closer until your noses brushed against each others, a second spared as a chance for either of you to bail on what you both knew was bound to happen in a matter of time.

He leaned in and you let him— let your arms curl around his neck and his around your waist so your lips could meet faster. Let your lips move against each other’s because it felt right, because that’s what you knew love to be. Letting something happen because it felt right.

He felt right.

Miles pulled away, but barely, his breath warm against your lips. “Come to my parent’s party tomorrow?” He blurted.

Hands holding the back of his neck, you blinked yourself out of your daze, brows furrowed. “What?”

“My dad, they’re making him police captain. We’re celebrating tomorrow, here, and I want you to come.” Miles licked his lips. “Well I— I was gonna invite you anyway. But now I really want you to come. And I wanted you to come before this happened, obviously—“

“I’d love to.” You smiled, and let him pull you back into him the second you’d given your answer.

—

Miles remembered what it was like to be so head over heels in love with someone that it consumed him entirely. How it corrupted his days and fogged his mind with nothing but the thought of them, and he could feel himself slipping back into it again, but this time, with you. And if he were being honest, it kind of scared him, how quickly you’d claimed his heart.

But what he did know was that you liked him, and he liked you. He’ll admit, he didn’t expect his feelings for you to develop as fast as they did, for them to hit him as hard as they had. But he was past that now. Tomorrow was going to be special, and not just for his family, but for the two of you. He was finally going to take the leap he’d been too scared to make before tonight.

You were the perfect girl, that he was sure of. And who’d be dumb enough to not accept perfect when it was right in front of them?

He wanted this. He wanted you.

But any chance for another sensical thought was interrupted when the impossible happened.

‘Impossible’, being the multi-layered hexagonal portal that suddenly opened up on his ceiling, and the blonde-haired, gap-toothed girl he thought he’d never see again, appearing with it.

Bright and beaming down at him with a heart-halting grin, Miles felt his stomach drop as soon as she spoke.

“Miles!”

Shit.

taglist: @burymeinside @secret-ssociety @whatamidoing89 @urmotherswhor3 @valovesyou @inlovewithfictionalppl @edgyficuselastica @motherwanda @mybfmiles @axeoverblade @miumiulicious @sukisprettyface @gwennesy @simpnotapimp @kanvis @cleo-dearts @retirement-home @lunaramune @silas-222 @citrusequalsfrogs @itsberrydreemurstuff @spritecranverry @mewhenimanangel @wisteriaflowersss

(if you asked to be tagged and i didn’t tag you, that’s because your user didn’t show up 💔)

[shiraishi-kanade]

A lot of An's character arc revolves around other people because at her core she is lonely: alternatively, middle school An Shiraishi was not having that grand of a time and here's why.

An is by no means a person who's shunned by others or has no friends, she isn't lonely by conventional means, but she's lonely in a way that she couldn't find anyone to connect with after Nagi's passing.

Even then, there's a solid chance that that isolation has started before; we can see in An's past that it's not only An's dream alone but also her skill that makes her seem unreachable to others.

Because of who her family is and also because of who An is, she was shoved in this kind of unique position of "If anyone can do it, it's her." An was put on a pedestal by everyone around her. That is also the exact opposite of a situation that Akito (and consecutively Touya) have ended up in, who started our being rejected and pushed down.

Teaming up with An on her terms would have meant admitting you have to meet her at her level. Whether An realized that or not, whether she knew the truth behind Rad Weekend or not, that was just what it was.

An is not prejudiced, though. She really just wanted a team who had the same dream she did. But other people raised the bar for being An's partner even if An herself didn't have any requirements other than having a serious dream.

But that is isolating. Going through that for two years is isolating. If try to find someone special for two years and fail because people either don't take you seriously at all or take you so seriously they can't think of themselves as being good enough for you, that will mess you up in one way or another.

(This also means An's partner was always fated to be someone outside of Vivid Street - someone who didn't know the intricacies and implications of teaming up with An and did that just because they wanted to. In a twisted and ironic way, it was always meant to be Kohane.)

That's why An is constantly walking on eggshells around Kohane. Kohane is her first shot at making a real connection and An wouldn't let go of it easily; but that's also why An keeps messing things up and having messy feelings about Kohane: she is her first try to build that kind of relationship.

This is also in part why she's so hesitant to confront those feelings head on; she doesn't think she's allowed to express them because she doesn't want to hurt Kohane, and because she's already been a bad partner and because she's afraid to lose her. It's a vicious cycle of her past being so lonely she desperately craves a connection but because she's been so lonely she doesn't want how to handle the challenges that inevitably come with that connection.

(It's also about how An thought she had a special connection with Nagi - and she did, but Nagi was an adult with her own issues and problems going on which she just couldn't share with An because their relationship was still that of a mentor and a student. Nagi knew she shouldn't, and didn't, burden An with her feelings. But lack of truly meaningful connection with someone her age affected An later in her life. Kohane is socially awkward on the surface, but An is socially awkward internally. With Kohane, she's experiencing a lot of new feelings she hasn't dealt with before, and she doesn't know how to deal with them. She's the most experienced singer out of the group... But she's the least experienced as far as human relationships go.)

In the end, the confrontation was inevitable from the very beginning, because An needs to start seeing Kohane as someone will agency and will and as someone who can handle An at her worst, too. The fear to lose Kohane and her team if she really expressed what she feels (and it won't be pretty) is holding her back. An doesn't have to always be a perfect partner; she needs to see and understand that Kohane will understand and never leave her even if she isn't.

[3minsover]

AUgust Day 30:

steve tries to employ his ‘act like you don’t care’ method when he realizes he has a crush on eddie.

it’s about a month or so after vecna, and the party are more inseparable than they’ve ever been, older teens included, and eddie’s settled in like he’s been one of the gang since day one.

the moment steve realizes that old familiar fluttering in his stomach, the telltale thrum of blood rushing to his cheeks as eddie plucks out nameless tunes on his acoustic or asks steve if he wants to come over to get high or watch a movie, steve knows exactly what’s happening. it doesn’t scare him as much as he thought it would, falling for one of his best friends, especially not one who’s a guy. he doesn’t really know the protocol for a situation such as this, but some habits die hard, and something in steve’s brain is still hardwired to receive that hit of endorphins and return to the routines of old.

thing is, steve’s never put on this show when there’s another guy involved. with girls, he can be cool and suave and just the right side of dismissive until he has them begging to be even offered a palm to eat out of.

but eddie’s different. both in that he’s a guy, and steve’s pretty sure this same move isn’t going to work on him, but also, eddie’s different. eddie’s something special. something that feels like the first splash of rainfall after a drought. eddie has him yearning in a way he’d never thought himself even capable. and as fiercely as he longs to just grab eddie by the face and kiss the mischievous grin from his lips in the hopes it makes his insides smile too, steve brushes eddie off just as much. he waves quick, flippant ‘hey’s (but he longs to furl eddie up in a hug, bury his face in the collar of his leather jacket), he blinks away eddie’s jokes with just the practiced hint of a smirk (though he wishes he’d just let himself laugh), he offers backhanded compliments (when he’s desperate to tell eddie he has the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, and that he wants them to be the first thing he sees in the morning until the day he dies).

eddie shrugs it all off for a couple weeks with only a twitching narrow of his eyes, a deliberate, searching stare.

steve thinks maybe, just maybe, this has worked.

until eddie confronts him about it.

“hey, did i do something?”

“what?”

“did i- you’ve been- you got a problem with me?”

“why would you- what? no!” steve tries to protest, but eddie barrels on, sounds just so demoralised it’s hard to listen to.

“look, if you don’t like me being around or whatever, just say it, man. i can’t take all this cold shoulder shit anymore.”

steve blinks hard, dumbfounded, with the sinking realization that his trademark move hadn’t worked - if anything, it’d done the exact opposite of what he hoped. steve had felt that electricity with every glance at eddie, but he now fears he’s crossed some wires somewhere, and it was the spark of faulty cables, rather than the fizz of something mutual. and if steve’s plan has backfired, the only thing left for him to do is come clean.

“i don’t have a problem with you. i mean, i guess i kinda do have a problem with you, but- but!” steve preempts eddie’s inevitable crestfallen sigh with the raise of his pointer fingers, both staying and apologetic all at once. “but it’s not a problem you caused. it kinda is but it’s also not. shit i used to be so good at this. i have a problem with you because i don’t know what to do with you. i don’t know how to be around you without- without- you’re always so- so alive and fun and sweet and just looking at you makes me want to scream into my pillow, but in like, a good way? and my heart gets all- and your eyes are just- so. i guess i got a problem with you, because i… want you to be my problem. i want you- uh. yeah.”

eddie is silent for a long moment, and steve can almost see each of his words slotting into place behind eddie’s eyes. “steve. i… i’m not gonna do us both the disservice of pretending i understood all of what you just said, but i think i got the highlights?”

steve rakes a minutely trembling hand through his hair, finding anything to break up the sudden stillness.

“you did? cause even i feel like I’ve talked myself round in circles here.”

“i think so. let me get this straight. you… think i’m fun?”

“yup.”

“looking at me makes you want to-”

“scream into my pillow, yeah.”

“oh- oh okay. noted. and um, you,” eddie starts slowly, seems to be feeding the words out carefully like it’ll spook steve to hear them from another mouth but his own. “you want me to be your problem.” steve swallows, inhales deep, and nods.

“yeah. cause, i guess to me it wouldn’t really be a problem. it would- that would be something i wanted. you’re- something i wanted- want. god, this is harder than i thought.” steve chuckles nervously and eddie just stares, mouth hanging just a little open.

“but you…” eddie starts, brows knitting in confusion, “you don’t like me. you barely talk to me even though i wanna talk to you whenever you’re around, even when i’m trying to make you laugh you hardly even smile, and i try to make you laugh like, all the time- oh.” something flashes in eddie’s eyes as he stops himself dead in the middle of his sentence. “oh my god. you- you were- shit, dustin talked my ear off about this; act like, uh, like you don’t care, huh?”

steve’s already burning cheeks threaten to start giving off smoke, and he’s about ready to hotfoot it out the door and disappear forever, but then eddie smiles, and it’s one of those devilish, smirky, sparkling smiles that steve loves.

“you got me, harrington,” eddie admits on an exhale. “you got me good with that. got me hooked.”

steve winces a little, tries to smile back.

“i did?”

“shit, yeah. you’re better than i thought.” eddie chuckles giddily; it makes steve smile for real.

“so, i can admit that i actually do like you now? that i’ve been crushing on you for like, months?”

taking a step closer and placing his palms flat against steve’s chest, eddie drops his voice low, “yeah, yeah you can. because then i can say i like you back.”

turns out steve’s plan had worked, just not in the way he expected. but nothing with eddie ends up how steve expected, and that’s just one addition to the list of things he loves about him. that list will grow longer as the years pass, a never-ending record of things to love.

steve’ll apologize for the whole mind game thing later, but for now, he simply rests his hands over eddie’s, and tips his head forward until their foreheads touch. he whispers, “hey, eddie. i really like you. let me take you on a date sometime?”

and eddie whispers back, “hey, stevie. i like you a hell of a lot too. and yeah, obviously - thanks for finally asking.”

[greensaplinggrace]

also buffy is just so casually and remorselessly anti-cop throughout the entire btvs show and it's fucking amazing. yet still incarceration is weirdly glorified as a redemptive device. like i can understand in some context faith's lack of accountability regarding murder would inevitably lead to accepting that accountability as a sign of growth, but i also just don't fucking agree with the decision to put her in prison at all.

prison is not inherently redemptive and is in fact the exact opposite. accepting accountability for one's actions doesn't always mean going behind bars to answer to a corrupt system that isn't even aware of your life's realities. buffy or faith turning themselves into the police for breaking the law just seems shallow.

[baskeigh-ball]

God I love that swap au, especially with Raph. Cause like he's always the one to take the heavy hits for the team, he's used to an even encourages people to test his durability/strength at times. So to now be in a body that's suddenly the exact opposite would make me want to wrap myself in 50 layers of bubble wrap and never leave

As one of the many vocal Raph enthusiasts on this site, YES EXACTLY YOU SEE MY VISION

It was the obvious choice for Raph to be in Don's body because it has so much potential! He's has to force himself not to be the shield now!! He's going against a lifetime of Toughest Biggest Brother Instincts because he's not the toughest biggest brother anymore!!!

He figures out why Donnie is so obsessed with his tech--which, he had a basic understanding before, but now he REALLY gets it. A softshell has very few natural defenses. He can get hurt much more easily, so he uses a battle shell to pick up the slack. But I can imagine Raph becoming waay too attached to the shell. Even though it goes haywire sometimes because he has no clue how it works, it becomes his security blanket.

Not to mention his strategy in battle is completely overhauled because he's not the Punchy Guy anymore. Well, he's still a heavy hitter, but he has to rely on technology instead of his own raw mystic strength. So he's basically rendered useless, at least by his own logic, because what good is Donnie without Donnie's brain?

He never thinks that about Donnie tho, in fact he and Mikey and Leo have spent years trying to uplift their brother and make him know that his self-worth is not attached to what he can offer to the team. But, of course, Raph doesn't cut himself the same slack. I can also imagine him slightly resenting the others for having an easier time adjusting to their different weaponry, meanwhile he's left with high-tech armor that never listens to him and tries to kill him just as often as it protects him. Just saying, it's inevitable that he snaps eventually but that's another story for another day

Sorry for ranting, I have too many thoughts about the silly red turtle and it comes out in the form of word vomit since I have nowhere else to shout into the void about my obsession with him lmao

[ataraxiaspainting]

Sweet Hibiscus Tea.

Yan Shalnark x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a day of finally trying to face your social anxiety, you walk home alone. The roads are empty, quiet, and eerie. But you are almost home now, aren’t you? You are not going to cry anymore. Just when you think life is starting to turn around for you, it goes in the exact opposite direction. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, misogyny, not SFW implications, psychological horror elements, manipulation, panic attacks, Shalnark being an asshole, unhealthy relationships, and stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

Can be considered to be within the Hier Encore universe.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham

Things She Said by Chris Garneau

Baby Bride Rag by Roar

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Appetite of a People-Pleaser by Ghost and Pals

Valentine, Texas by Mitski

I’m Yer Dad by GRLwood

Cry Baby by Melanie Martinez

Freaks by Surf Curse

Neighbour by Mother Mother

“You stay soft, you get beaten; only natural to harden up.” — Mitski, Stay Soft

*~*~*~*

Regardless of how much time has passed, this convenience store always remains the same.

There is always the familiar, tired face of the clerk behind the cash register, her gaze never on you or any other customer who walks in and out of the doors, a simple, muted hello being the only proof that she noticed you.

The lights dim and blink without fail, fading from white to a shade of daffodil to dark flaxen before disappearing and resurfacing yet again as alabaster. No matter how black the night sky is, the less-than-bright illumination never changes.

Neither does the rest of the scenery.

Next to the payment area are two vending machines, with one not functioning. It is dead, with the glass broken by a punch that left a large gaping hole in the dead center. Once when you accidentally touched the front wall while bending down to get your can of lemonade from the working one, it left a sticky residue that had you rubbing your palm on your sweater for what felt like an eternity. It somewhat helped, you guessed, but it also stained your clothes. The vending machine to its right was always out of most sweet drinks, often leaving you with the choice of coffee, lemonade, green tea, or water.

You don’t buy any snacks aside from strawberry Pocky and, if you are lucky, a chocolate bar.

But you do buy meals here because it is cheap. Usually fish with miso or a salad, but there have been times when you can find a premade sandwich.

The total cost comes to between 500 to 1000 Jenny. There is always a poster that claims the cashier is the employee of the month, though you are certain that she is the only one who works there.

The only thing that ever changes is the calendar behind her. The past dates are crossed out in red ink that is in the form of thick, scraggly lines. They remind you of the drawings you used to make as a child when your father was too busy screaming outside your door and your mother was too powerless to do anything but cry and yelp as he hit her. One time you drew them fighting, and when one of your maids saw it, it inevitably found its way to his desk.

Needless to say, he was not happy by any means.

*~*~*~*

The calendar behind the worker reads the 17th of April, 1998. On this day in 1985, your first and only ever friend, the head gardener’s apprentice, went missing. When you eventually gathered up the courage after waiting for hours outside, you went to your father’s room to ask where she was.

“She has been removed from the premises for distracting you instead of doing her job.” The answer you got was to the point, because when has he ever been warm to you? “I made sure that she had learned her lesson before she died. She was in pain the whole time. It was a shame to put a bullet between her pretty eyes. But at least she had a bit more use to me beforehand.”

You cried and cried until you threw up.

That is when your mother, the usual bandage over her left cheek this time, came in and sat on your bed gently, sadly.

She patted the area next to her and slowly you stood up from the floor where you kneeled as you sobbed and went over. She asked you if you wanted a hug and you said no. She responded with a simple nod, respecting your answer. But then what she said next turned your tear-stricken face into a glare.

“She’s alive.” She muttered, along with thanks to God and a hold of the cross on her neck. 

“...What?”

Your mother shushed you when she heard footsteps coming to the door. When the sound eventually leaves further into the hallway, she leans into your ear while pointing to your vanity. Your gaze leads you to the dusty cat statue made of garnet.

It got shattered a little while ago when a maid cleaning your room accidentally made it fall to the floor. You felt bad for her as she was a new hire, so you never told anyone aside from your mother. You knew that if your father, the head of this household, ever found out he would punish her severely, even when he did not care for the statue at all. You got to choose, if you were lucky, which part gets whipped or cut off.

“Yes.”

Her short answer leaves you almost jumping up out of your seat. “...Huh?”

“At last week’s banquet, she caught the attention of your father’s wealthiest business partner.” She turns to the curtains covering the lone window in your room, her back now facing you. “She was tricked into boarding a car when the driver claimed you were inside waiting for her. To the partner in question, she is nothing but another pretty face to add to his collection.”

At the slight turn of the doorknob next door, you two go as still as wax people in a museum. “Why did he lie to me?”

“Why? Well, he certainly did not want you rebelling against his decision.”

“But I have never rebelled against him before.”

“I know.” Your mother lets out a sharp laugh, salty and sour. “I know you are always trying to be good, trying to stay under the radar. I know, I know because you are a lot like me. but now I am going to teach you a lesson about your father and the world at large. Remember that a man’s resentful attitude will always result in a woman’s agony, physical or otherwise, always. However, when things go right for a man, a woman is either praised like a dog or ignored until something goes wrong because it is never enough.”

You can’t breathe. “But why? Why, why, why? What did I do wrong? What could I have done right?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do or could have done. No matter what, your faults will always be found. That is how most men are raised, to find, and how most women are raised, to hide.”

“...”

“Men’s hearts are such cruel, small things. Oftentimes they can only fit themselves in them, but there have been times where even they cannot fit.” She is still holding onto the cross charm on her gold necklace, firmer than she has ever held you. “They are cold, are or are almost dead. There is no room for people like you and me. No room at all. All they see us as is something to own, something with no feelings whatsoever, and whose only purpose is to please no matter the cost. Such pigs, all of them.” She murmurs some prayers that you cannot hear. “I want you to be better. I want what is best for you, what I never have been able to accomplish; run and live.”

She opens the drawer beside your bed, and you don’t do anything to stop her. It is not like you can hide anything, from her or anyone else in this house. Whatever is buried eventually resurfaces. She pulls out your rarely used bible, a thick layer of dust on the leather cover. It smells and makes you cough. She doesn’t though.

“At least your father does not force you to read this day and night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It is one of the few things I appreciate him not doing, I do not want you to grow up hating the church.”

“I know.”

“He has made you hate a lot of things already.”

She turns the pages, dust flying around the cold air.

“He made me hate a lot of things too. Blankets, steaks, cameras. The color white, the color black, the color red. The sounds of belts unbuckling, the sound of laughter, the sounds of doors opening and closing and locking.”

You don’t say anything, only looking at her hands. Only in the dark can you not see her scars, her blooming wrinkles, and the bruises that are always fresh. 

You don’t say anything, because you have learned from a very young age that you are her only listening ear. You are the only one who keeps her head on her shoulders. You don’t say anything, because she is right. He has made you hate plenty of things. But, but, but. But you can’t hate him, and you can’t hate your mother.

You can’t hate her, because who knows what she would do when she finds out that no one cares about her pain in this hell?

“Mother.” You mutter, putting your head on her shoulder as you scan the text on the page that she selected. She does not stop you. 

“Yes, [First]?”

“Do you hate me?” You ask, trying so very hard to not let her see the tears that threaten to come out of your eyes. “Because… because… if I wasn’t conceived, you wouldn’t be here hurting, would you?”

You could swear that you heard her heart skip a beat.

“...I would not be here, yes.”

She is honest, for once. You know at least some of this situation is all your fault.

“Do you hate me?”

“...”

“Mother, please answer me.”

You hear a sniffle as she starts mumbling the words written. “‘A gracious woman gets honor, and violent men get riches.’”

You choose not to press on the subject. You don’t want her to suffer anymore.

*~*~*~*

You buy an orange-flavored Ramune soda, a pack of pork ginger instant ramen, and strawberry Pocky.

The total would come to about 600 Jenny if your quick calculations are right. You could get something extra, like a topping for your ramen or some chips. But would it be wise? You have never been someone who finishes their plate after you had ran away, so what if you just waste your money?

So, you decide not to get anything else.

You walk to the cash register.

You hear an explosion from the back of the building. Small sparks of white and orange. The lights go off before you can place your chosen items down, and you can hear the employee cursing under her breath. The breaker. What happened?

“Damn it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” She grumbles, putting her thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of her nose, rubbing. “No raises whatsoever. Only one here. Without me, this place wouldn’t be working, ungrateful pricks.”

Fighting the way your heart rate shoots up, you decide that talking to her would be best. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone aside from your boss, right? 

Maybe your anxieties would quell, and you can eventually graduate to talking to your co-workers, that would be a dream come true for you.

You haven’t had a friend, a real friend, ever since Rose was taken from you all those years ago. You still cry whenever you think about her. You miss her. Is she dead, is she alive?

You still blame yourself. If only you hadn’t talked to her, maybe she would still be with you. What kind of adult would she have been? A kind one, a responsible one? You would still be friends at least, wouldn’t you? Or would she grow to hate you, if she didn’t already?

You keep telling yourself that she wouldn’t and didn’t, but that is not what your mind tells you.

Is she dead?

You could picture a rotting corpse six feet under. An unmarked grave. Glassy, dead, amber eyes looking upward to anyone who looks down, helpless, pleading. You always liked them, always complimenting them much to Rose’s shy chuckles. She was so pretty, that much was true. You could only imagine how beautiful she would have been as an adult.

Her looks were a personal gift from God, the heavens, and the angels.

But if she didn’t have them, would she not have been treated like she was in the estate?

“Erm, excuse me,” You mutter, taking a few steps forward. “If you want I can go check it out.”

It is what Rose would do. She always liked helping others. You just wish that people would have appreciated it more and seen past her appearance. It was a double-edged sword. It helped her become the head gardener’s apprentice but also caught the attention of both your father and his business partners. You felt bad for her, and still do.

The employee turns around, her confusion prominent despite the dark. 

“Erm,” You mutter, looking down at your hands and entangling your fingers in one another. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

It takes a few moments to respond. Her surprise was unexpected, as you never spoke to her outside of asking her if she had change or telling her you hoped that she had a good night. Rose would be better at this kind of thing. You once had a dream that at a fast food joint, an adult her would order for you and correct the staff when they put pickles on your burger. It’s what could have been, funny moments like that. She had always been the one to take charge, you following her like a lost puppy.

You miss her so much.

So much.

The worker slowly nods. “...Okay.”

“...It’s in the back, right? The breaker.”

This is so awkward. Rose would be better. You wish she was here. Or your mother. Anyone.

“...Uh. Um… I like your eyeliner.” As soon as you say that, you curse at yourself, not wanting to sound like a creep. The woman’s confusion becomes even more prominent.

“...Thanks, and yeah, it’s in the back.”

“...Okay.” Jesus Christ. You turn away from her, the heat on your cheeks hot enough to be mistaken for a fever. This is not what Rose would have done.

“...You can leave your stuff here.” She says, and you quickly spin your heel and put your items on the counter. “It’s not like they are going to grow legs and run off, so relax.”

“...” You both chuckle, and you feel slightly better. “...Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“...” You start walking. “Wrong way.”

You stop.

It takes you a few seconds for you to move back to first base and go off in the opposite direction. As soon as you open the creaky steel door, strong rain and cold wind greet you, along with a loud clap of thunder and lightning.

Perhaps you could go back and get your umbrella from the stand by the door. But that would be even more awkward.

“Stupid. Stupid.”

“If we are lucky, the wind simply detached it or something. Not the best at this sort of thing, though.”

“I don’t think breakers detach.” You could picture her shrugging and scoffing at your murmur. “Sorry. Sorry. Just… sorry. I’m the best at this sort of thing either.”

You close the door behind you and start looking amongst the pitter-patter of the raindrops and gusts that nearly make you fall over. 

Stupid. Why do you make everything so weird? Rose would have been so much more charismatic. It was one of her strongest traits after all.

Stupid.

It’s hard to see. Trying not to trip over stones and cracked cement, you grip onto the wall and walk forward. Soon, you feel something.

“Ew, ew, ew!” You cry out, quickly moving your hand away from the slimy slug. “Ew!”

“You okay?”

“Uh, nothing. Just a bug. Yeah, just a bug.”

You hear a chuckle. Stupid.

“Sorry!” You exclaim, almost bowing your head. “Sorry! Really!”

Making sure you don’t touch the slug again, you keep moving.

Eventually, you find the breaker. But it wasn’t what you were expecting by any means. The damage almost looks like it was done on purpose, the way it was open and covered in soot. Did something get to it?

The breaker that exploded was a mass of melted metal that had been blown apart from the intense amount of heat and pressure. It was now barely recognizable as a single unit–parts of it scattered across the cement path and others having been fused and becoming something else entirely. The metal had been melted and blown upwards in the sheer force of the explosion, coating parts of the wall, wet grass, and roof with small, solidified droplets of metal. The ground around the remains of the breaker is burnt and scarred with traces of the immense fire that had consumed it.

It seems the rain put it out.

“No hope for this, huh?”

“Hey,” The employee calls out. “How bad is it? If there is nothing you can do, come back inside.”

So, you do.

The way she turns at you is robotic almost. A smile is on her face that was not there before. She nods when she sees you. Something tells you to not approach.

“It exploded into molten metal.”

“Oh well.”

Under the stormy skies, her gaze turns pale. Her eyes, seemingly captivating, lack any hint of vitality, while her lips curve in a disarming and saccharine manner. A shiver runs down your spine as you meet her gaze, every fiber of your being urging you to flee. Deep within your primal instincts, an innate awareness stirs, recognizing the smile as a charade, a mask of humanity that ventures into the realm of unease: akin to an artificial being adorned with synthetic flesh or a wax figure encased in glass. Those lifeless, white eyes, coupled with a forked tongue and an unsettlingly beautiful countenance, leave you with an undeniable sense of mistrust.

“You’re not mad? Really? Um…”

Something is off. What happened? She looks more like an imposter than anything else. But if she is, where did the real cashier go?

“Don’t worry.” She says, her voice oddly chipper and no longer confused by your awkwardness. “It’s fine. I’m quitting anyway, so it’ll be my boss’ problem.”

You turn your head. “Really?”

She nods. Something is off.

“Like really?”

You blink multiple times and you don’t think she does. She just stands there. Slowly, she nods. Something tells you to run yet again.

“Um… um… okay. Okay. I’ll just pay and leave. How much does it come up to?”

She shakes her head.

“Um. I have to pay. It’s thievery if I don’t.” You get closer. “It’s the law.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can’t just not pay.” You say, taking out your wallet from your sweater pocket. “That’s stealing. It’s wrong.”

Every action she takes is measured and precise, and she seems to move like a machine rather than a person. It’s as if she’s been programmed to act and talk in a certain way, and she doesn’t seem to have the ability to break out of that. She simply stares at you, not speaking.

Run.

You undo the metallic button, hearing the shuffling of paper Jenny within your wallet. “Um. Let me pay. Please.”

She simply shakes her head again.

“It’s fine.” The employee says, the smile still plastered on her face. There is quite more than a hint of blankness and detachment in her expression. She speaks in a mechanical and emotionless manner, her words delivered as though repeated from a script of carefully chosen sentences. Her movements are quick and precise, putting your chosen items in a plastic bag. There is no life or energy in her actions, instead, she moves like a mindless machine, performing her tasks before her without showing any personality of her own. Is it better to just accept it?

What should you do? What shouldn’t you do? Is she joking? Should you leave?

What would Rose do?

One of her hands grasps onto the plastic handles and she holds it out before you. There is no authenticity or warmth. Her eyes are blank. What happened? Should you ask? Should you just take the bag without saying anything further?

“Okay,” You murmur, obeying her silent command. “I hope you don’t get into any trouble though.”

*~*~*~*

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Did you find anything?

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Feitan found her heels nearby along with some blood, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.

You (9th May 1996 17:45)

Nothing yet

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

Try checking the stores nearby.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

From the blood trail, she is most likely injured from running and trying to fix herself up in some sort of shelter.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:48)

She may have also discarded the rest of her clothes, not just the heels, and is currently wearing something else.

You (9th May 1996 18:15)

I found a dress and jewelry at the bottom of a lake

You (9th May 1996 18:18)

(image sent)

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

That’s it.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

Disappointing. I’ll send over Pakunoda to ask people nearby.

You (9th May 1996 18:20)

K

You (9th May 1996 18:21)

Don’t cry, I’m sure we’ll find her soon :) 

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I wasn’t crying.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I just thought she came around already.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:23)

This will set our heists back weeks.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:24)

She has planned this out for more than a year, it seems.

*~*~*~*

Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. You can’t hear anything else. The sounds sting your ears like an aggravated hornet. 

The darkness around you is solid, more so than the cracked, aged concrete path beneath your shoes. There is a tiny light in the distance; a streetlamp.

Silence.

“...”

“Have a good day!”

“...Thank you.”

Let there be light.

“Um…” You can’t see anything. The sounds… stopped. “...Time to go home.”

But the pain stays. 

It feels like a drill. 

It hurts.

“...” You feel deaf and blind. No, maybe something even worse. “...”

You turn around, to the dark convenience store, and you see the cashier still staring at you. “Have a good day!”

“...”

“[First]?”

…How does she know your name? Did you say it to her in the past?

When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

“[First], dear.” She starts waving as you look at her. “[First]. [First]. [First]. [First]. [First]!”

There is nothing but emptiness. Is your name all she can say? What happened to her? It is like she has regressed. Like a storm cloud in summer, you do not wish for this pain. Now you feel deaf and blind and mute now. 

You almost wish that you were dead. All there is is pain. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Interruption. The sounds returned. Is this good? Is this bad? Does it matter at all? 

You walk. You don’t speak. Only walk. You can’t breathe. You can only move. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. 

Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

A hand clamps over your mouth.

You drop the plastic bag from shock, and then you finally hear something other than those sounds; glass shattering.

“Sh…” A voice, calm, along with the smell of oranges. “It’s okay.”

“...!”

“Don’t scream.”

The touch of lips, a man’s lips, on your ear, thin and hard. 

“Breathe. Just breathe for me, okay?”

But you can’t. The wind goes down your throat. It is suffocating. You can’t breathe. You smell oranges and something rotting, blood.

It stinks. It fucking stinks.

Christ. Get away. That stink. That fucking stink. Your body rejects it by continuing to not breathe.

“Sh… Breathe. Just breathe, for me, for you, for us.”

“...St… Sto-”

“Sh…” The voice is sweet, not at all sour, like candy. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Just breathe. You’re going to pass out.” The lips and the scent of his breath are like salted leather in a butcher’s shop, stinky and rotting. “Calm down. Don’t worry.”

“...Sto… Si-”

“Breathe. Sh… It’s okay. Breathe.”

“...Ge… Sti…”

“Sh… Breathe. Breathe, [First]. Breathe. [First]. Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. Don’t worry about all this. Breathe.”

When you finally do, you gasp, desperate. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

Get off of me, I can smell you. 

“There we go!”

Your vision clears up a bit. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

“Just keep breathing.”

“...Huff…”

You can smell him. You can practically taste him, with his mouth so close to you.

“Whew! That was a close one!” The man exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

Pain. Get off of me. I can smell you, I can hear you, I can taste you. Get off of me. Please.

The pain still stays, in your chest and your ears, and your head. Oranges. Blood.

Get off of me.

Please–

A pain in the back of your neck and you go limp.

Darkness. Then pain again. You can’t move. You can only breathe. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

*~*~*~*

SAINTSHORE SPACE THEATRE

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF RANDOLF URASLEF, GRETEL JAMES, AND QUINCEY J. ORATICE

PAUL DONSHEL CELESTE BAKER   ANNE CROAKS

AND

THE GREAT COMET THEATRE COMPANY

SWAN LAKE

ADAPTED BY MUSIC WRITTEN BY PYOTR ILLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

INSPIRED BY THE CHOREOGRAPHY OF JULIUS REISINGER

WITH THE WONDERFUL CAST OF

(IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)

Odette, the White Swan………………………………………………………….JEAN YVETTE

Odile, the Black Swan……………………………………………………………...JUNO LILOU

Prince Siegfried……………………………………………………………(the name is illegible.)

The rest of the list’s names cannot be read just like Prince Siegfried.

“She is simply beautiful. Just so beautiful. Simply wonderful, perfect.”

As the spotlights ignite, their scorching beams engulf you, causing you to shield your eyes with futile resistance. The sheer force of the light overwhelms your feeble defense. An ethereal audience erupts with exuberant cheers, applause, and whistles, resonating from vacant seats. Champagne flutes collide, men erupt with hearty laughter from their very core, and women unleash piercing screams akin to banshees.

The temperature rises and the noise intensifies, repeatedly, enveloping you in a symphony of overwhelming sensations.

Onlookers casually share their thoughts.

“Get off the stage, we want to see the play, not some stagehand!”

“Boo!”

“Fuck off!”

You run off crying.

“Where is that Odile girl?”

You run into a dressing room. One used by a woman wearing a black dress. She is so pretty. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls off her bare shoulders, clearly just done with a flat iron. There is a burning smell in the air. Smoke. When her gold eyes meet yours, she marches towards you and slams the door shut.

You can almost hear sobbing coming from the other side. Cries.

“So lonely…” The woman mutters. “When will it ever be enough?”

The voice sounds familiar. Her eyes. Her hair.

Nostalgia. Memories you would much rather forget. The basement. The imaginary ripping of clothes and tears and men’s laughter.

“I can’t do this much longer…”

Someone else knocks on her door. You want to scream.

“Come out, dearest.”

The devil. Tall with curved horns and a forked tongue. You want to warn her. 

You want to save her. “I’m not going to harm you, I am going to make you happy.”

You are so focused on whether the woman opens the door or not that you do not notice what happens next until it is too late. A clawed hand on your mouth. A tongue licking your ear. Tasting your sweat. Your tears. Laughter. The rest of the world disappears, and the only one there aside from you is the one behind you.

Sh… Sh… Sh… Sh… Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Get off of me. Please.

“Breathe. It makes things more fun for me.” The voice echoed like you two are in a cave.

You gasp for air, and the smell of blood and oranges fills your nostrils.

“...Huff…”

“That’s better.”

You turn around. There is a body of a man. 

But the scaled, furred, horrifying face of a demon.

“Good.” He says, smiling his sharp teeth. “Deep breaths, in and out, come on.”

You do what he says. He praises you again, you think. But you can’t hear it. Either that or you simply do not pay attention to it. What happened to the woman? 

“...”

“We should go.”

The woman. The devil, this other… thing.

“...Rose…”

The demon laughs.

“Wake up.”

*~*~*~*

The first things you hear come from a happy man’s voice. “My boss’ girlfriend ran away more than a year ago you see, and he’s been heartbroken ever since. I want to prevent that kind of loss from happening to me. Real pretty one, too! He didn’t expect it, but I don’t blame her. After all, she’s been held captive for more than a year, she had to try to escape eventually.”

…The first thing you feel is lace on your neck. A collar.

It does not tickle or hurt. It itches. 

A cold hand plays with it, and it almost chokes you. At your discomfort, the man laughs.

“You are so cute.”

Something metal is on the collar, and it blinks a small red light.

[golvio]

i dont really know how to word it, but ganondorfs speech after his rehydration about reshaping the world, crushing opposition, as a king does. i just went "oh so like rauru but hes being more honest and less nice about it."

Yeah, like...the story's mostly uncritical nationalism, but there are certain lines that stand out that I interpret as Ganondorf's existence being a natural consequence of Rauru taking power. Not just as plain, mundane secular politics, but as the universe trying to rebalance itself after Rauru's attempt to build a perfect world by suppressing things like monsters and the blood moon that were a natural part of the world but he nevertheless saw as undesirable.

Take Jerrin's line about the Horned Statue, for instance:

"As there is the Goddess of light, then it follows that she would have an opposite—the horned god. Like light and dark, one cannot exist without the other—their power manifests through the other's existence."

The Horned God wasn't originally the opposite of Hylia. That role would be better suited by an entity like Demise. However, there's a certain implication that, in the absence of a competing counterforce, certain entities eventually emerged in response to Hylia's existence or were shaped by the consequences of her actions to occupy that niche. Jerrin's tone makes this process of opposition sound inevitable.

And then there's the Depths being a mirror image of the surface, a little like ALTTP's Dark World or ALBW's Lorule. The terrain of the Depths is an inverted version of the surface's terrain. The Lightroot names are even the names of the Shrines spelled backwards, and are in the exact same locations as their aboveground counterparts. As above, so below. And although the Depths were Ganondorf's prison, they eventually became his home and the metaphorical womb-of-the-earth where he could be nurtured back to health and reborn. As their ruler, he, too, is a mirror image of someone above: first Rauru, and later his descendants, culminating in the current Zelda.

As Rauru was the self-proclaimed King of Light, it would stand to reason that there would eventually be a King of Shadow who took charge over the things the King of Light refused to touch. Both the monsters and the blood moon, which IIRC existed well before Ganondorf took on the crown if Rauru and Mineru built the shrines to suppress them before the events of Zelda's memories, fall under the Demon King's dominion. And then there's that one theory that Ganondorf might be the Sage of Shadow, which made me literally say "oh shit" to myself because that was the one element that was missing from Rauru's stable of pals compared to the seven sages of Ocarina of Time. Of course Mr. Light-Must-Dominate-At-All-Times wouldn't want a Shadow guy around, even if they were an absolutely loyal secret-keeper and professional warcrimes-mess-cleaner-upper like Ocarina of Time's Impa.

But also...Rauru wasn't just "a king." The narrative presented him as the absolute monarch over the nation, literally sent by the gods to rule. He's elevated so far above "the common people" that even the leaders who aren't part of his Important Royal Bloodline are presented as faceless and subservient, always wearing masks in his and Zelda's presence and never giving their own names, as who they are isn't as important as their oath to serve the king. However, there cannot be absolute power without the capacity to abuse said power. No matter how "nice" the guy currently in charge is, systems of absolute divine-right monarchy are problematic by nature and inevitably create conflict. Ganondorf was the other side of the coin of absolute kingship, the uncomfortable truth lurking in the background, never outright said but always felt. It's kind of why a lot of our ancestors got together and agreed the whole "divine-right monarchy" thing wasn't a great idea.

[stsgsk]

Thinking about Satoru With A Short(er) S/O

Fem Reader | Fluff | Sorceress Reader | ~2940 words

To the surprise of a grand total of zero people, Satoru teases you. To make it worst, it's nothing original either.  

Example 1: 

"Where's my S/O gone?" He asks, like you're not literally standing in front of him. But it's not his fault. If he look straight ahead, his eyes totally misses you. 

Example 2: 

"How's the weather down there?" He proceeds to bend down on your level and look around. "Yeah, this kind of sucks. You should try my altitude sometime. Sun feels a lot better" 

He ignores the heat from your glare. 

Example 3: 

He's also tried using you as an arm rest. Emphasis on tried.  

"Your crotch is literally within my punching range" you tell him once, and only once.  

He doesn't use you as an arm rest anymore.  

Ironically enough, he'll shut down anyone else teasing you, especially if it makes you uncomfortable. Teasing you is an S/O only privilege, exclusive to him.

Oh, and of course he has all sorts of nicknames for you. He tried 'knee-height' once, and you kicked him in the shin.

He has you saved as 'Shortie' on his phone. You saved him as '10-tier drying rack'. 

If you're on the quieter side, you've definitely scared him at some point. Sometimes, he's genuinely not aware you're there and looks down and just sees you down and actually gets a mini heart attack. 

"Oh crap!" He says after he's jumped back a good few feet, clutching his chest. "How long have you been there for? Are you trying to scare me or something?" 

No. No, you weren't. You had literally been standing next to him for at least ten minutes.

Even worse, sometime he just straight up walks into you because he's not paying attention to where's he's going and just straight up walks into you, sending both of you toppling over. 

"We've got to stop meeting like this" he says, smirking as he looks down at you. You're lying on the ground, and he's on top of you. 

"Satoru. This so the fifth time this week. Get off me right now" 

He gets better though! Don’t give up on him!

So, about you two walking.  

It really didn't work out for a while 

His long longs meant he walked faster and in longer strides. Your shorter legs meant the exact opposite 

At one point you actually gave up walking together for some time because it was a genuine piss-take. Satoru would be walking and talking and he'd asking your opinion only to realise you were still 5 traffic stops behind him 

You used to try jogging to keep up with him but that also took the piss because you didn't ask for a work out 

So after convincing you to give it another go, you and Satoru tried again and worked on it.  

He started walking a lot slower for you. It was definitely awkward at first, uncomfortable even since it really wasn't his normal walking pace. 

But when he saw how happy you were you two could actually have a conversation while talking, that you were no longer just staring at his back as he spoke and you could actually see his facial expressions and he could see yours, he decided it was worth it. Soon enough, it became second nature. 

Of course, you contributed to this effort too. You did work on your walking, getting faster too. Satoru assured you that you didn't need to go too fast or anything, since he didn't want you worn out, so you got to a faster speed you were comfortable with. 

So you two just walk and talk together a whole bunch now. Honestly, every time you two walk alone together is a date at this point.

Speaking of dates, he loves taking you out to the city because it’s bustling with so much life. But of course, there's the issue consisting of your height, crowded places, and you two get separated the first time you have a city date 

He’s so dramatic when he loses you in crowded places. It was inevitable, given you two were literally in Tokyo. But he is actually panicking. Like, he lost you. He actually lost you.

He's so silly, he's calling out your name and showing a picture of you (his lock screen) to every stranger he comes across in hopes of finding you. 

There's obviously no need for him to worry, you're a very capable sorceress, and a very capable person.  

What happened is either: 

a) You call him and ask him where he is. You literally told him you were going into that store on the left three stop lights ago.

It’s not his fault he's so tall, and Tokyo is so loud that he couldn't catch what you were saying. He probably didn't even know you had been talking to him 

"Well, if you grew like an extra few inches, I definitely would have heard you" 

You punched him in the arm for that 

Or b) you really did fall behind and swept away by the busy Tokyo people, and you only end up finding him because he's causing a big scene and kind strangers directed you to my boyfriend 

"Satoru, I'm here" You say, waving at him as you approach. “We’re such idiots. We should have just called each other-“ 

"Oh, thank goodness." He embraces you in a bone crushing hug. "We're holding hands from now on, every time we're in public. I'm not losing you again" 

And if you're fine with it, you two really do end up holding hands whenever you're in public. It's nice, holding his hand. 

Speaking of hands, the size difference? Satoru can't get over it. He gushes over it every time. He'll just come up to you randomly and stick his hand forward, your queue to press your hand against his. He'll slip his fingers between yours, give you a gentle squeeze, and won't let go. 

He laughs when you mention how you're starting to get neck pain from looking up at his face all the time 

So he starts to get down in that silly goofy pose he does for Megumi so you can look down at him. 

"Looking up, looking down, it'll balance out that neck ache of yours" 

He really didn't mind doing this for you. He actually enjoys it. He loves seeing your face when he’s looking down at you, and when he’s looking up at you. He’s notices difference things when he’s in these different position, the crinkle of skin around your eye when you laugh when he looks down at you, the way your lips stick out when you’re annoyed when he looks up at you. He really is enamoured by you.  

But when you two started kissing and hugging, he started to understand your point when he has to bend down to kiss you. 

Don't get him wrong, he loves you and loves kissing you, but it's really not ideal (and he's starting to get some of that pain you were talking about) 

So he comes up with a solution: His infinity! 

He uses it to get you to float up, so you're at a much nicer height for both of you to kiss. 

This is different to when you two kiss standing with him bending down to kiss you.  

It's the way you're eye level that makes both your stomachs flutter in a new way. It’s the way your nose brushes against each other in this slightly different angle that makes both your breaths catch. It’s the way your lips meet, as you drape your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close that makes both your hearts race. 

Yes, this becomes the new norm.  

Ah, he also loves kissing you when he's sat down, and you're standing. Oh, and when you're sat on his laps and kissing him? Or, even better, when you're both laying down and kissing? He’s excited to kiss you every time. 

One time, Satoru wants to take you out on a shopping date. He think it would be cute to pick out clothes for each other. He expects you to agree, and is surprised when you turn it down. 

You explain how hard it is to but clothes and shoes because of your height. It's either too long, too tight, too ugly, or just not right for you and shopping really was a pain for you.  

As soon as you're done ranting, he's already looking for a personal seamstress and shoe maker for you. 

"What?" you ask, incredulous as he explains to you what you’re doing. "Baby, no. There's no need for that." 

"Baby, yes" he corrects you. "There is literally every need for that" 

He's not taking no for an answer. You deserve to find the right clothes for you as much as anyone else. You shouldn't have to settle for what fits, you should be confident and happy to wear your clothes. 

Besides, he has lots of money. It would make sense to spend it on his S/O 

So yeah, all your clothes fit now, and you're seriously grateful. You tell Satoru all the time, but he can tell even without you telling him. The way you seem so much happier in the clothes you've always wanted to wear makes it obvious.  

And Satoru makes sure to go all out. Its way better quality than any other clothes you have. It will literally last over a life time  

Satoru also takes this as an opportunity for you two to match outfits and he absolutely loves it.  

It's literally a requirement for you two to match and look good. He makes sure to text you when you two are going to hang out to make sure you're both coordinating. 

Satoru: So it's yellow today, right? 

You: Yeah. You pick mine, I'll pick yours? 

Satoru: Deal 

And yes, you two are very stylish. Fashion icons. Couple goals, but that was already a given even before the matching outfits.

He loves to grab things for you. Will tease you a little about it, but he does enjoy doing things for you. If you'd rather be more independent, he'll offer to use his infinity to give you a leg up of sorts, or you'd use a stool or climb on something he'll make sure you don't fall 

"Is that really safe?" he can't help but ask, making sure to be alert in case you even wobble slightly on the stool.

You wave off his concerns. "It's fine. I'm basically a pro at this" 

Satoru also reaches for your clothes at the bottom of the washing machine and the ice cream at the bottom of your freezer for you, because he’s seen the Olympic level gymnastic just to reach them and is both impressed and concerned you'll hurt yourself somehow. 

If you need a leg up somewhere but you want to be independant and you two are in public, he will let you use him as a stepping stool. He will get on all fours so you can step on his back and do what you have to do. It's fine though, His infinity means you’re not actually touching him it's not like his clothes will get dirty so don’t worry, and he doesn't feel you stepping on him. He promises its no big deal.

He got you an oversized teddy bear this one time. It's literally the size of you, if not bigger. He was really proud of himself for getting it for you until you started cuddling it more. 

"Come on" he pouts. "I'm literally right here" 

If you don't give into his demands, he'll whine and whine until you do. He loves to cuddle you. He loves wrapping his arms around you, and holding you close. As he keeps you warm ans safe in his hold, he can't resist the urge to give you a flurry of kisses on the face. He's a weak man when it comes to you.

And if you decide to be the big spoon? He sometimes gives into the urges to pinch your cheek. It's just really cute to him how you want to hold him despite being the shorter one. Bonus points if you're the big spoon. Either way, he's a very happy man when he's with you like this.  

If you're mad at him, either he gets down on the floor or you get a chair piled with pillows so that you're looking down at him as you do and then start scolding at him. If you’re extra mad at him, you do both.  

If he's mad at you, he's going to be so petty. 

He'll pull a: "what? I can't hear you from up here" 

Or worse, if other people are there, he’ll turn to them and be like: "You guys hear something?"     

He always make sure you’re at the front of group pictures so you're actually in the shot. If you'd rather not be, he'll either use his infinity to make you float so you're seen in the picture, or if you want, he'll sit down with you as everyone else stands so you’re not the odd one out. 

When you're sitting down and your feet don't reach the ground, you can use his legs as a leg rest. He doesn't mind, he wants you comfortable. 

Or you can lean on him when you're tired, and he wraps an arm around you and keeps you in a secure hold.

"I've got you" he says to you quietly. He always treats you tenderly when you're worn out. "You can rest now." He says, kissing the top of your head.

If you let him, he'll carry you bridal style. Or any style.  

He also loves giving you piggy back rides. Especially when you’ve both got to get somewhere faster. 

"It's faster babe" he says, as though he literally couldn't just teleport you both instead or at least get there a lot faster with his infinity. He's just using it as an excuse to hold you, because he loves holding you. 

You two tried sharing blankets once, and you didn't do that again for a long time. The blanket distribution did not work between you both because of your height differences. Plus, if either of you tugged on the blanket, the other was missing out.  

But then he once saw you could wrap your blanket around yourself multiple times like a cocoon. 

Firsts thought: 'Aww, so cute' 

Second thought: 'Wait, this is possible?' 

He's forgotten you could actually do that, he's been tall for that long.  

So he buys a gigantic blanket so he can cocoon himself into too, so now you're both two cute caterpillars cocooned up together.  

This blanket was also big enough for both of you, so you finally did manage to get to share a blanket. It was definitely one of you two's favourite memories together, and became a thing you two did often. 

One time you both went on a date and came across a Face In Hole board. Unfortunately, you couldn't reach to get your face in because you weren’t tall enough. 

Whether you expressed or not, Satoru knows you're disappointed. And Satoru is not going to have a disappointed S/O on his watch 

He buys the necessary supplies, and works to create a face in hole board for you both, one that works for both your heights. 

And when he shows you, you're so touched.  

He painted on the board two silly looking curses with the hole the right height for you both. When the photos were taken and you look back at them, you could really tell he put a lot of work into and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated him.  

That became you're new lock screen.  

He laughs when you're too short for shade board in the car so it can't block out the sun for you and you're just keep getting attacked by sun rays. So, he lends you his sunglasses, and always does so when you need them.  

When public mirror are too high up for you so you can't check your reflection, you rely on Satoru to help maintain you’re appearance. 

"A little smudge here" he says, wiping it away with his thumb. "And you've got a few hair out of place. It's cute, though. I think you should keep it that way. No? You want me to fix it? Got it." 

When there's some sort of crowd and you can't see what everyone's looking at because everyone's too tall and all you can see is their backs, Satoru lets you get on his shoulder so you can both see.  

You know those couple pictures where it just shows their shoes? Satoru posted one once of you both. However, given how your large height difference translates into your shoe size difference, the comments go like this: 

Sh0k0: Is that a child? 

You: . 

Satoru: No, it's y/n >:(  

Sh0k0: I am so sorry 

Suguru: help i cant stop laughing  

There was one time you came back from a mission. Satoru heard that you failed. Thinking the worse, he came rushing to find you. You were in one piece, but clearly down. He asks you what happened, and he expects, well, something serious, he supposes. 

He didn't expect to be bursting out in laughter when you tell him you tried exorcizing a weak curse, but the curse got on a higher ledge and you couldn't reach him 

He laughs so hard it was basically an ab workout. 

After he recovers from his laughing fit (he actually never did, he bursts out giggling every few minutes as he remembers), he goes back with you back to the place your mission was 

But not to exorcize the curse for you. No, he knows you can do that by yourself.  

He uses his infinity to jump onto the ledge where the curse still was, proceeds to kick the crap out of the curse, knocking it off the ledge and send it tumbling on the ground in front of you. 

"You've got it from here, babe" 

And that's how you completed your mission that day. Yes, you wrote that, word for word, in your report. You felt bad for whoever had to wrap your head around your report, you really did. 

Satoru hates it when people underestimate you as a sorceress or as a person because of your height. And he's livid if someone puts you down for it.

He's your biggest cheerleader and you're biggest defender. He'll always be the first person to vouch for how amazing and strong you are.  

Because you are, and he makes sure to tell you that every day. Whether you're insecure about your height, or you don't give it a second thought, not a day goes by he makes sure to tell you how valuable you are as a person, and how much you are worth. 

TLDR: Satoru is absolutely in love with you. That's all there is to it. 

[lady-phasma]

HotD fandom thoughts

I debated posting this because it may sound sappy, but I do occasionally step back and post my thoughts about how we interact with each other. This can certainly apply to any fandom. However, it is specifically about the past 24 hours in the HotD fandom.

Yesterday's trailer was amazing. Whether you love/hate any characters specifically, whether you were disappointed by possible omissions, or you love all of the characters and just have fun with this dragon soap opera, they gave us so many hours of discussion and theories. That was surely their intention. What struck me the most (what I am too much of a realist to believe will continue to happen as the season air) was the community and excitement.

I'm not naïve - I know that there were some people who inevitably posted hurtful or hateful words yesterday. But for the most part, there was a general feeling of "this is why we are here." I try to bring that to my blog with every single post. Not because it's manufactured behavior or because I want to present a certain image, but because this is what fandom needs to be. We all love this series even when we hate it. Hate is the opposite side of the same coin: one cannot feel hate/frustration unless they are passionate about the object, the exact same passion that is required to love something.

What I have seen in the last 24 hours has been encouraging. When the negativity inevitably comes with the second season (in 32 days!!), remember to treat others how you want to be treated. And don't add the exception "unless they are hurtful first and then it's fine to return the unkindness." Just treat them how you want to be treated. This includes unfollowing, blocking, blocking tags, but it also means connecting with new blogs who are also kind, respectful, and fun. Expand your circle - there are so many of us!

That went a little longer than I expected but I wanted to say it because you all moved me. Don't forget (especially those in this fandom that feel strongly about one or the other "team") that the actors would want us to get joy from their work. If they can support and care about each other, so can we.

[nilsavatar]

DAY 9 - ACCIDENTAL STIMULATION

Parings: Rotxo x Fem!human

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, SMUT, accidental stimulation, rubbing, fingering, sexual tension, olfactophilia (Rotxo turns on by smelling arousal) praising (baby boy/pretty boy/good boy), Aubree (reader) is slightly older, cursing, edging, sub-Rotxo, size difference. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: the research for an octopus-like species turns into a totally different search.

@acts-of-pastel you mentioned you wished for a Rotxo x human. I hope I have met your expectations☺️

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist - Request a fic

The ilu were funny. Prankster, playful creatures, and very affectionate, even with the few humans in Metkayina territory. They reminded her of dolphins in the way they behaved. In fact, just like dolphins, they had established a bond of friendship with the people of the reef.

However, Aubree had overlooked one crucial detail: the sticky skin.

The Ph.D. student had stood on the back of a Pandora animal before, but they had always been land creatures. So, her small size was inconsequential as long as she could grip tightly. The problem with the ilu lay precisely in that. No matter how much strength she put into her legs, she promptly slipped off the back of the mount. Did she press a little with her right knee? That’s when the left would lose its grip and her weight would unbalance until she fell into the water. Ditto if she did the opposite. Squeezing simultaneously with both was out of the question; she didn’t have long enough legs.

The only solution was to ride with an expert, and fortunately for her, Rotxo had been generous enough to offer to carry her himself. She could not have taken Ao’nung’s constant shenanigans. The woman was here to work, not to be ridiculed.

So here they were, on the beach, the salty smell of the ocean filling the air. Rotxo, already astride his ilu, gently extended a hand to her, while Aubree stared skeptically at the animal, wondering which way to mount.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated to her for the millionth time, his kind lips not losing their friendly smile for a second.

That boy was far too good and patient. An angel. The exact opposite of his best friend, she thought and wondered how on earth those two got along. She, in his place, would have gladly pulled off that annoying smirk with which he strutted around.

Really unbearable.

However, her thoughts were not consumed by her bitterness towards the future olo'eyktan. She had a mission: to take a sample of sagittaria ink.

Skuka, the local name for these 1.2 m nautilus-like creatures, had traits similar to terrestrial mollusks, octopuses, squids, and grinders. An incredibly unique species among the aquatic creatures cataloged on Pandora, but one about which very little was yet known because of its shy nature and the ease with which it camouflaged itself among corals and reef bottoms. Despite its bright purple hue, the skilled cephalopod expertly altered its color.

The similarities between Earth and Pandora were nearly overwhelming, despite their existence in separate systems. The universe was not meant to host life. To find it in its vastness, to receive confirmation that we were not the only ones, was a rarity; an exception that confirmed the rule. Yet, encountering the identical elements duplicated, albeit in a chaotic manner and frequently in colossal proportions to meet the tastes of a feeble human within an alternate ecosystem? It was awe-inspiring, a virtual impossibility.

Pandora's name had become synonymous with achieving the unachievable.

Sagittaria proved incredibly elusive, resulting in a scarcity of publications about it; near to zero. All that was known was the extraordinary special ability to oxygenate not only seawater, but also freshwater. However, just recently, Aubree had set eyes on it for the first time, on an unfortunate specimen caught by reef fishermen, inevitably ending up on the communal dinner menu. While cleaning, the woman noticed a black pouch that they saved to use as a condiment.

The animal’s defensive ink. 

This gave her an idea. If she could analyze the fluid secreted by a live specimen, they could find the answers they were looking for about this curious creature. By chance, the fisherman who had caught the previous octopus was none other than Rotxo, leading her to approach the young diver.

“We gotta go skuka hunting if you're still up for it. We don't have forever,” he said with a slight insistence, dirtying his voice. Her hesitation was making him lose his patience. And the man’s patience was infinite.

Aubree checked one last time that her scuba gear was working and, with a heavy sigh, approached Rotxo, who wasted no further time in lifting her by weight, putting her in the saddle, and anchoring her to his chest with one hand so large that it practically covered her entire abdomen; his thumb pressing on her sternum, placing it right in the middle of her breasts.

Rotxo’s nose curled, tasting a strange note in the air. His mind drew a blank, yet the familiarity was indescribable. It had the sweetness of a ripe fruit, with a touch of spiciness that intoxicated him and caused him to search for the source. He probed carefully. In Aubree's perspective, he appeared to be investigating the absence of predators, unaware of the information her body was betraying.

The completely accidental and unexpected gesture sent a bolt of electricity coursing through her entire body. Like a lightning splitting a tree in two. A thunderbolt that had started where his index finger had pressed on her left nipple (right at the level of her heart, now threatening to explode in her chest) and had ended in the deepest part of her belly. Here an immense heat had sprung up, she was sure had reached her cheeks as well. She never believed that the day would come when she would give thanks for wearing the full mask of the eco-pack over her face. Suddenly, she no longer felt the visceral chill of the ocean penetrate her bones. How could she when all her senses were exclusively focused on the huge man behind her?

When a stronger breath of wind hit them, a whiff of that smell hit him again, along with a scent he knew well.

The scientist’s sugar shampoo.

He had been groping her boob until that moment and, like an idiot, had not even acknowledged it.

With a sudden realization, his orbits split apart, revealing the shock on his face. What he had perceived were her subtle pheromones, barely discernable to most, but not to him. Aubree was ... aroused? For him? Right now, out of all the times. Why? Wasn’t it abominable for human to feel attraction to an alien? Perhaps she was into big stuff.

Great Mother, Rotxo, what the hell are you thinking?

It was a misunderstanding. It had to be. It didn’t make sense. And finally he noticed. Recorded the soft roundness under his palm and that he had held the whole way.

It will surely be embarrassment. He judged the trail of pheromones, not finding the courage to believe there really was more to it.

Not to upset her further, Rotxo slid his hand further to her side and pushed back a little, but this only caused the woman to slip back by the force of gravity, landing precisely on his lower abdomen.

Holding back from moaning was impossible; the parting line in Aubree’s bottom fit his growing erection wonderfully.

The woman was about to apologise by pushing further forward on the ilu’s back when a tight, burning grip on her side silenced her.

“Do not move.” The depth of his voice made her head spin, as if she were about to faint, a soft ringing filling her ears. She wasn’t sure of her voice when shakily she called out to him. 

“Do not talk. Just—,” he exhaled a heavy breath, his voice equally uncertain, “Just do nothing.”

With both palms, he smeared the human on himself — the action already tremendous for his willpower, as all her weight pressed deliciously against his lower abdomen —, then lowered his face to her head, until he buried his nose in her hair. He sniffed her like a cat examines a salmon mousse. Ravenous.

But that wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He needed more.

With trembling fingers, the diver found the zip of her wetsuit and tugged it as far as he could. She shivered, her back suddenly exposed to the cold, but she did not have time to register it, for her body was already in the grip of another kind of shiver. More intense and visceral, which went hand in hand with the hot puffs that escaped from the Na’vi’s nostrils as he explored her bare epidermis. As he did so, he glued her even more tightly to himself and her beautiful ass hit him again, now irrefutably erect, and Aubree missed a beat. Her head grew lighter and lighter, her body more and more uncontrollable. Rotxo’s moans went hand in hand with the dance of her hips.

Rotxo made her feel the outline of his canines on one shoulder, while his hand slid along the outline of her intimacy until he found her swollen clit. Sensitive and erect. She let out a whine. She felt him smile as he rubbed the thick, tight fabric, giving her a pleasant but insufficient friction.

Unsatisfied, Aubree levered the animal’s back to give herself a harder push backwards that made him blow something incomprehensible. His hand crept inside her wetsuit, happily surprised to discover her completely unclothed underneath as he pinched at her nipple, glancing up to catch the moan leaving her plump lips. 

So that’s what she liked. Sweet, filthy little thing.

Satisfied, her back immediately arched and his hands planted themselves on the one remaining on her pelvis. He smiled around her, thrilled to be right. She pushed her ass against him and he groaned, his cock stiffening more than it already was. Fuck, at this rate, he would probably cum through the loincloth, untouched, but he restrained himself. 

“Rotxo,” you mewled. A shiver snaked down his spine at the sound and couldn’t hold back another groan that made the girl look up at him with a racing heart. “Feels good,” she bit into her lip, thighs pressed together.

After more lapses, tugging at her nipple and a playful bite at her shoulder, he approached her face. His gaze fell on her lips, a little reddened and covered with her own saliva. Swollen, eager. 

Fucking mask. 

The other hand quickly found its way to her womanhood, leaning into her as he let her guide him.

He passed her clitoris, teased her fleshy folds and insinuated a fingertip towards the deepest part of her pussy, finding it already magnificently wet and wide. He wore the sensitive ring that tightened around his finger, as if it eagerly sought to trap him, causing a sigh louder than the rest. An unequivocal invitation that he was damned if he was going to refuse it. He pushed the first phalanx lazily to stretch her walls, helping them adjust to a size she had never experienced before. Then he reached for the knuckle and finally found himself sucked in whole. Each millimetre covered corresponded to a higher-pitched cry until Aubree became a whimpering mess.

He couldn’t help wondering how she would act when it was his cock’s turn to sink into her. She would be unconsciously transfixed on him. A dark laugh echoed in his windpipe at the mere thought.

“Put another one in.”

It took him a couple of seconds to register that she had spoken. “What?”

“Put a-another finger.”

“Do it, baby boy.”

“Syulang (flower), I don’t want to hurt you.” He actually wanted to, to be honest. If he hadn’t risked dismembering her, he would have shed his tewng (loincloth) and her diving suit long ago, and slammed her on his cock. But he had to constrain himself, prepare her properly. She was just a little human. Beautiful and fragile, like a crystal.

Shit, that pet name was all he needed to make his knees go soft. He could do nothing but succumb. With no little effort, a second finger took its place next to the first. The burning that pervaded her was almost unbearable, intense, yet addicting. Her mouth was dry because of time she remained wide open in a scream of both pain and pleasure. Small tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

“Right there!” The sweetness of her voice stimulated his excitement even more because every time she made a sound, a fresh wave of her perfume blanketed him. It was exhilarating.

He couldn’t help but let himself get a little cocky, smirking to himself, running his tongue over his lower lip. The obscene sounds coming from her cunt should have mortified her, but nothing of the sort came to mind as she felt her release coming up and teasing the surface. 

She tried to hide her loud moans by biting her lip until it bled, but watching his hand disappeared into her scuba wetsuit, his fingers pumped into her and his thumb twirled over her sweet clit made her head spin. Doing it in the middle of the ocean made the action even more naughty, wild. He was driving her crazy. She couldn’t recall ever being touched so sublimely. 

Sooner than she had expected, Aubree’s thighs trembled from the aftershock, trying to come down from the climax. She lay back on his chest and gasped, trying to catch her breath.  She stared at the sunny sky for a moment, her mind baffled by what had just happened. 

When she finally composed herself, she rose again to stare at him. Her eyes flashed with mischief. She licked her lower lip with excruciating slowness before biting it, giggling. “My turn.” She was still smiling, little smile lines at the corners of her lips and eyes, when she anchored herself to the saddle for support and began to languidly rub her ass against his covered shaft.

His cock was so big and heavy, she could feel it even through the fabric. Hard and throbbing. He let out a broken moan, staring at her with hooded eyes. Even without a skin-to-skin touch, it was absolutely incredible; the material gave that extra friction that made him fall into a spiral, and for a moment he considered not taking off his tewng at all.

As she approached the point where Rotxo needed her most, she moved her hands to support her pelvis. She imagined having him inside her. Ripping into her spongy walls in a deliciously painful way, before fucking her stupid. He was so big that she would surely cum several times in a row.

“Please don't stop.” 

Who would’ve guessed he was the begging type? Aubree smiled devilishly, giving herself a more mighty momentum, only for him to throw his head back.

“Relax, pretty boy.” He was struggling to hold it together. Just having her ass on him was enough. He couldn’t even imagine what her mouth would feel like. Him hitting the back of her throat, filling it with so many streams of seed, making her swallow every single drop of it. Fuck, and your pussy. Just at the idea, pre-cum dripped to patch the cloth.

She stooped a little more to change the angle. His aquamarine eyes were fixed on hers and a hand rested on her back to steady her. Or perhaps to keep him grounded. He groaned. She gasped in surprise when Rotxo grabbed her butt, keeping her there.

His dick pulsated. The veins were more evident than before. He was close. “Be a good boy and cum for me.”

“N-no,” he said, eyebrows coming together and lips parting. He looked away from her only to kiss her back, nibbling at the soft skin. 

“I know you need to cum.”

“I’ll do anything you want, but please, not like this. I can’t...” his fingers dug into the flesh of her bottom, moaning louder now.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy. Just let it go.”

His hips stuttered as he stifled a moan, no longer knowing where to put his hands. She rubbed herself against him faster and he gasped, moaning hopelessly, almost choking on his own saliva.

His long, prolonged wailing was because he had shot his sperm entirely into his tewng, like an inexperienced kid. His cock throbbed and twitched as he continued to empty himself, his thighs quivering. He used an arm to cover part of his face as he emitted low whines.

“Don’t make that face. I’ll pull another one out of you.” Her playful smile made him hard again. She was so... so alluring. Charming and seductive. He hadn’t planned to fall into her hands, but there he was. Ensnared by her mesmerizing stare, he couldn't break free. He was left speechless, grappling for something to say. Every fiber of his being yearned for her, an insatiable hunger that could not be denied.

She moved up, leaning forward to stretch a hand between his legs to reach his aching erection, taking its heavy length in her frail hand. He let out a shuddering breath, blinking as he felt her tease the tip of his cock. 

“Strip.” Fuck, he was about to lose it again. 

Her name sounded heavenly coming from his beautiful lips, his eyes already begging her to keep doing what she was doing.

But suddenly Aubree’s gaze changed. Her head snapped to one side toward the seabed, too deep for her to really see it. Yet something had caught her attention.

A purple blur moved sinuously but funny against the current.

The woman’s eyes glittered as she trudged back into her wetsuit.“Rotxo, a sagittaria!”

“What?”

“A skuka!” she sat back down, her back to him, ready to chase after the cephalopod. "Come on, now," she said, her tone laced with impatience.

“But, but…” He was so stunned that he couldn't find his words.

She threw him a wink. We'll finish this up later on. You'll get a sweet reward if you fetch that skuka for me.”

He couldn’t believe that between him and an octopus, Aubree would choose the octopus. A fucking octopus!

But with the tantalizing prospect of being profusely thanked later, he swallowed his huff and commanded the ilu to set off in pursuit of the mollusc. Already anticipating his prize.

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!