#like i thought that's what it was until i realised he was trying to mimic wilder.........

[peterpandiedtoday]

seen the wonka movie twice now, once dubbed, would have gone again today but am sick aff (coincidence.. sign from the lord to not harm myself.. who knows) and am still fuuuming literally tf is this movie. obvs trying to be a 71 prequel but by trying to be that they shoehorned so many references in to the point it doesn't make sense as a prequel anymore???? and why is the oompa more wonkaesque than wonka? down to quotes (eyeroll through the galaxy) and mannerism? the second time around i managed to separate it more from wonka and see it as its own wintery movie which i suspected before going might work better anyway and it does but hooo boyy this is a mess

also mad neither cinema had a wonka popcorn bucket or cup.. i would've sold outttt

[shidoglazer]

hi hiii!! Rin and overstimulation??..

just that?

rin itoshi smut mdni overstimulation ＠shidoglazer

“r-rin.. please, too slowww…” you squirmed under his body frame that was towering over yours as he tortured you with an excruciatingly slow pace. deep thrusts with his tip hitting your cervix, his length rubbing against your g-spot, everything about it was making you whimper like a puppy in heat. he’s been leaving you both on the edge for hours, so why is it that you’re the only one that’s being a needy idiot?! he seems completely unbothered!

rin cocked an eyebrow at your pleas, grabbing your ankles and pulling you closer to him, your clit hitting his pelvis as your back arched, feeling him go impossibly deeper into you.

“huh? watch your mouth. stop complaining and tell me what you want.” he stopped moving his hips but he was still buried deep into you as he awaited your response. he looked directly into your eyes, basically staring daggers into them as he got impatient. you on the other hand, was struggling to keep eye contact with him. your lips parted to form a response, stuttering a bit.

“i- rin, wanna cum, wan you to go faster, please..” your hands trailed up to grip onto one of his hands as if you were pleading for him. his glare was still unwavering, letting out a low hum as his free hand trailed to your abdomen, pressing on it gently. “that’s all you want? 100%?” and you nodded your head frantically, he was more than glad to comply and make his girl happy. just not in the way you thought how.

the only requests you asked of him was to go faster and let you cum, sure, of course; they were easy enough .. rin gripped both sides of your hips and moved his hips backwards, then slamming the whole thing back into you with speed and force, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head as your mouth spread wide to let out an ear-raping moan.

then, his grip tightened on your hips before starting to speed up suddenly, no buildup or warning whatsoever. he let out a low groan from the back of his throat as he examined your fucked out face, the way your body was completely limp and moving backwards each time he thrusted into you, your arms on either sides of your head against the mattress that tried to grip onto nothing as leverage— god, you were so stupid and he loved it.

you didn’t need to say it outloud for rin to realise you were about to cum, the way your legs wrapped around his torso to pull him closer as your pussy clenched around his cock tightly, the way you were basically shaking under him, and he was more than happy to let his sweet girl cum.

as your orgasm washed over you, you expected rin to slow down like he usually does— but no, he continued jackhammering into your sweet pussy harshly, causing you to grip onto the sheets and desperately try to escape from the overstimulating sensations, your legs kicking in the air as you tried to push him off, only to be met with him slamming you back down onto his cock by your hips.

��rin! riiiinnnnn! jus came! wait wait wait wait, please! rrinnn,, hnnnghh, sensitive, baby, ppplease, ii ccaaaaant, hwaaa, ii,, aahh,” your sentences became more and more slurry the longer he fucked into your overstimulated hole. rin gripped your jaw harshly, forcing you to look at him.

“you wanted to cum, i let you cum, you wanted me to go faster, i went faster. see how i was so behaved? so now behave for me to return the favour.” he placed a firm pat on your cheek as if to mimic a slap before going back to holding onto your hips and fucking into you like a wild animal until finally, he came and shot a bucket load of his seed onto your walls. he threw his head back and let out a looooong sigh before coming down from his high and pulling out of you, immediately looking at your already limp body paired with your fucked out face sprawled onto the bed.

he didn’t hesitate to pick you up into his arms and press gentle kisses onto your lips, rubbing your back soothingly.

“sorry, princess. too rough? i’ll make it up to you later. cmon, hold onto me. i’ll give you a bath.”

“…ice cream.. rin,”

“okay. i’ll get ice cream for you, baby.”

★ check out my masterlist

[ranticore]

i remind myself why i rarely ever drew nettlerove even tho he's consistently one of my faves ever. afaik he's never even been on this blog in adult form

anywayss i thought i'd try it again and it's as painful as ever. i obviously had less of a focus on realism for his staphylinid species Cryptostenus oculatus. But they have an interesting life cycle, being brood parasites on communal lepidopterans. these huge beetles sneak their eggs among the eggs of the butterflies. the larvae strongly resemble caterpillars and benefit from a cushy colony life until their caterpillar peers are ready to pupate. Cryptostenus remains a larva while the caterpillars pupate, allowing it to go mask off predator for the first time in its life (a very confusing and horrifying moment for them) and feast on its caterpillar siblings in their most helpless state. next spring, what emerges from the colony's pupation chamber will not be a new generation of butterflies, but one very large beetle.

Crytpostenus are flightless in their adult forms but excellent climbers, able to squeeze into deceptively small gaps despite their large size. As adults they are largely solitary (and many do not believe they are anything but extra fucked up butterflies, if they never manage to meet another of their species). Back home in Thera, they are rarely ever seen by others, spending much of their time hunting in caves or, in the case of oculatus, disguised among tithe tree flowers, which they mimic. The glands on their labium (the "chin" part of the face) secrete a sticky substance, and like some irl beetles in the Stenus genus, they can rapidly extend their labium, using the sticky substance to grab prey before reeling it into the mandibles.

Nettlerove never did manage to meet another member of his kind. As a caterpillar he crossed the Houndstooth mountains unwillingly (in the claws of a dragonfly) and almost died. He was found by a human expeditioneer called Dara, who took him home to Earth (illegally not informing the relevant authorities) to patch up his wounds. Dara saw a moneymaking opportunity in Nettlerove, realising that this caterpillar guy could easily travel the narrow tunnels in the empty city, scouting ahead for his team. But Dara pushed Nettlerove too hard, ignoring his objections and claustrophobia, handling him roughly and with zero concern for him, until finally Nettle got outta there. He made it home to the colony just in time to pupate and murder all of his siblings, following a natural drive he didn't know lay within him.

Believing that he was irrevocably a monster and worthy of nothing but the worst possible treatment, Nettlerove went back to Dara, who was horrible but at least wanted him. For the next eight years Nettlerove was Dara's hitman, for lack of a better term. He was the largest insect to ever make it to Earth, and most humans had no idea Dara had such a monster lying in wait. With Nettlerove's help, Dara was able to gain a controlling stake in one of the critical entrances of the empty city.

^ older design but that's an accurate size comparison w/ Dara

[callme-holly]

gang x british user? 🥹🥹

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

a/n: the images are really glorifying london here... literally got on the train yesterday and thought I would die. BUT HEY! Who doesn't love a british reader. tysm for the request hon <33

Darry curtis:

Darry tries his hardest to be polite but he is slightly thrown off by the little quirks. He’ll ask you a lot of questions, wanting to try and understand everything so he isn’t lost halfway through a conversation.

He finds your manners charming, especially when you “pardon” instead of “what”, chuckling softly to himself whenever you do it. 

He loves your accent and gets mildly flustered anytime you say his name. It does things to him… 

Sodapop Curtis:  

I can't even begin to emphasise how obsessed he is with your voice and accent. He’ll sit, transfixed, whenever you’re talking, like you’ve got him in some sort of trance. 

He’ll mimic your phrases teasingly, putting on a terribly strong accent that is closer to australian. But soon enough, you find he’ll use the word unironically and not even realise. 

He’ll try your favourite snacks, judging every single one and probably falling in love with a few. 

Ponyboy Curtis: 

He gets a little bit confused by your slang, not totally understanding everything and always questioning you quietly. “What the hell does knackered mean?” 

However, he does find your little sayings sweet and loves your accent, making you say random words just to hear how you pronounce them. 

He’ll introduce you to some american books and films, and you’ll introduce him to british ones. It becomes a routine thing the two of you do, something that just comes naturally.

Johnny Cade:

He loves how people freeze time you say something totally normal, your accent shining through, and loves it even more when he sees people fall in love with it. 

Once you asked for a packet of “crisps”, and he just stared at you blankly, totally oblivious as to what you were asking for. He’s not all too good with remembering your slang, but after a while, he’ll learn a little, just to keep up. 

If you ever feel homesick, he’s always there to help you adjust, comforting you gently and letting you talk about home just to feel connected for a while.

Dallas Winston: 

Dally probably doesn't care that you’re british; you’re just another person, and where you're from really doesn't change his view of you. However, he is fascinated by your accent. 

He mocks you constantly, putting on the worst accent imaginable and parroting your phrases back to you until you get frustrated. However, he finds you incredibly sexy and your voice does insane things to him… 

He really doesn't get British politeness, hating how you apologise when he was the one who bumped into you. 

Steve Randle: 

He picks up your slang surprisingly quick and gets way too cocky about it. Even if he does get it horribly wrong and you end up laughing at him. 

He’s always trying to imitate your accent but ends up sounding so dumb. HE thinks he’s got it spot on though, so will repeat phrases and be like: “hey hey.. Babe… listen to this.” 

He probably loves hearing all about the cars over there and even if you don't know much about them, he’ll listen nonetheless. 

Two-Bit Mathews:

He’s constantly quoting some random stuff just to surprise you or embarrass you. 

He tries to copy your mannerisms but once again ends up looking dumb and gets laughed at for being a fool. But in all seriousness, he truly respects you for being so far from home and holding up well. 

He’s obsessed with your accent and gets so flustered whenever you compliment him or call him “love” or “darling”. 

[thenightshadowqueen]

Okay I said I had more to say about Victor and Eli and I’m rereading Vicious again so here we go. (This is going to be a long one.)

Okay. I’m going to try and get my thoughts to be coherent but I’m struggling because oh my fucking god I just want to scream about them. That being said, I’m going to try to make sense, but this is mostly just going to be a rambling rant of all my thoughts of them.

The thing is. The thing is. Victor is obsessive by nature. He picks one thing, and he lives for it. For the majority of Vicious, what he lives for is revenge. He never thought about the after. In Vengeful, his obsession is finding a cure. But back at Lockland, his obsession was Eli. He saw this monstrous thing, hidden under this near-perfect façade, and he was fascinated. Eli “stole” Angie (his previous obsession, from the way he talks about her in the few mentions she gets), and Victor couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry, because he was too interested in Eli.

From what we know of Victor, he almost never finds someone he can tolerate, let alone someone he likes. And that must be desperately lonely, living like that, but he wouldn’t have realised that. Not until Eli. So no wonder he can’t let him go, even after everything. And Victor doesn’t keep grudges. He kills people out of necessity, yes, and practicality, but not out of vengeance. He doesn’t hold on to things. Except for Eli. Because when you have that much love for someone, and you base so much of your life around them, and then they betray you (how Victor sees it), you can’t just let that go. You can’t just move on. Victor didn’t just feel betrayed; he lost his best friend (and the man he was in love with). And that’s not something you can forget.

Now, look at it from Eli’s perspective. He’s spent his whole life trying to mimic human emotions, trying to be like everyone else, trying to bury this thing inside him that doesn’t fit in. And then he meets Victor, and he sees himself. And, slowly, he starts to realise that he can open up. He can be himself. I don’t think most of this was conscious for Eli—he’d spent so long masking that I don’t think he even knew he was doing it anymore—but I think it’s a big part of why he was in love with drawn to Victor. Imagine spending your whole life repressing yourself, and then finally finding someone who not only accepts your sharp edges but craves them. That would be so fucking addicting.

And then Victor kills Angie, and it’s like confirmation of everything Eli was afraid of: that this dark thing in you really is evil. After all, its mirror, your best friend, just murdered your girlfriend. (Again, I don’t think this was conscious for Eli, but I do think it played a role in the path he went down.)

But no one has ever understood either of them like the other did, and no one ever will. And because of that, they’re both so deeply, wholeheartedly obsessed with each other. They spend so much of their time planning to murder each other, trying to impress each other, playing these dark games with each other. Victor could have just sent a message to meet up with Eli, but instead, he set up an elaborate riddle game via the police EO database. Entirely unnecessary, but crucial to them and their deepseated obsession with each other. And Eli played along. And in Vengeful, Eli could have told Stell that they were hunting Victor. But he didn’t. He couldn’t, because he needed to be the one to kill Victor. Victor was his, in whatever way you want to interpret that phrase.

And I guess that’s what it boils down to. Victor is Eli’s, and Eli is Victor’s. His to love, and his to hate, and his to kill. And that is the great tragedy of Evervale.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

murder daddy vs. lawyer daddy. Knives out (2019) vs. Defending Jacob (2020)//

My weaknesses. Not to mention the hands on their hips like daddies about to scolding you 😩 I mean where do I sign up.

Just a thot...

Back to Black

Warnings: allusions to abuse and coercion, along with other untagged dark elements.

Summary: You get a lecture after you try to make a break for it.

Note: as usual, your thoughts are welcome. I'm kinda piddling around with these today but I hope you enjoy. Reblog and comment if you so kindly like.

You can still smell the smoke. You taste it too. The jarring impact replays in your head as the loud crush of metal echoes over and over. Your car spinning out, crashing into the barrier, flipping over the other side. All you saw were headlights, round and white. The Beemer. 

Your eyes snap open again. Your skull throbs as the familiar scent of bergamot and citrus stains your nostrils. The aroma brings thoughts of wool and brick. It is the smell of the Thrombey stronghold. Of your prison. 

Your eyes slit as ribs ache. You cough as you take a deep breath. There’s a scuff and a groan. The creak of wood, old furniture, inherited. Footsteps and a door, voices in a low rumble from down the hall. 

You let your lashes droop and remain as you are. A downy pillow under your head and a heavy quilt draped over laundered linen over your body. You have no energy or strength. 

“She’s awake,” Ransom snarls as he stomps into the room. “Hey,” he kicks the footboard, “none of the play shit, you little bitch. That’s not going to work on me again.” 

“Woah,” Andy calmly girds the other’s temper. “Honey.” 

You know he’s talking to you. That’s what he always calls you. That pet name. That false beacon of kindness. How could you fall for it. 

“Honey,” he drags out the word the second time. A warning. 

You open your eyes. His hands are on his hips. That stance holds so much; frustration, disappointment, anger... danger. 

“How are you feeling? That was quite the joyride you had.” 

You could laugh if your ribs didn’t feel like knives. Your head lolls. Arguing is useless. You realised that long ago. It’s why you tried to run. 

“Reckless. Stupid,” Andy continues on. 

Your eyes drift over to Ransom as he shifts to mimic Andy’s posture. It isn’t quite as effective. He pushes back his grey sweater to grip his hips, looking more petulant than intimidating. 

“Where were you off to, anyway?” Andy tilts his head. 

He’s playing with you. That’s what he does. He’s a prosecutor. He’s a cat with a mouse. He’ll bat you around until you squeak like he wants. 

“Packed a whole damn bag and everything? You going to visit family? An impromptu vacation?” He continues. 

“Stop,” you croak. 

“Stop,” he scoffs, “I don’t like liars, honey, and I know you’re not a liar. So why the fuck did you take my car?” 

His tone is iron. You flinch. He knows. He just wants you to say it. 

“You know--” you begin. 

“Fucking brat,” Ransom mutters. Andy taps his chest, holding up a finger, then points at you. 

You heave in exasperation and it makes you whine and hug your torso. Something’s broken. Several something’s at least. 

“Because... I was leaving you,” you sneer as you close your eyes. “But you win. The both of you.” You wheeze and cough. “You always fucking win.” 

Andy clucks, “now, honey, you know I don’t like when you swear.” There’s a subtle crack, you can see it without looking. Him tilting his head until his neck cracks. Then he bends his knuckles until they do the same; criiiick. “Ransom, go get the soap. Looks like we need to go back to basics.” 

[borzoilover69]

I have a headcanon on how these guys style themselves postgame and you WILL hear me out.

Kanaya, Roxy, and Jade are self explanatory. They know how they want to present themselves. They know how to go forward with that. They’ve got colour combos and layering and fashion choices suited to their particular style IN THE BAG. Loud, prominent, they know whats up.

Jake, Calliope, and Jane get nudged into giving a fuck about fashion by anyone named above, or rather their own desire to dress up…Jake moreso because as a celebrity he gives too much of a fuck about his image to be anything less. Callie of course is affectionate enough with jade and roxy that they teach her how to style and i think she would like lolita and more daintier feminine stuff than roxy, but she does tend to sometimes switch over to suits. Jane is pure butch energy she dresses like a guy but as a girl with fashion sense. Like strict lesbian style. I dont know how else to fucking put it she would dress like how a butch lesbian would.

Jane and Jake stylewise would be similiar to some retro callback summer movie where everyones on a roadtrip in a yellow van or something except jake is more prone to extravagancy because he gives more of a fuck. Also one of them is wearing dresses and its NOT Jane.

Dirk and Rose.. fashion disasters. Dirk doesnt know fashion weight for a while and tries too hard id even suspect that he would try and mimic daves fashion style for a while until john or someone else blatantly calls him out in an offhand comment and jake and the rest of his friends start getting on his fucking case about being so bland with his fashion takes (all primaries, little to no patterns, basic, no layering.) that he caves and starts taking it like a personal challenge to style well.

At some point he has a revelation and realises he can get piercings and starts leaning into that and punk / gothish fashion. Black with complimentary colours recommended by friends.

Rose is sort of a fashion trainwreck like for all of kanayas nudging she doesnt really give a fuck and kanaya starts dictating her outfits and then of course she also gets the "someone makes an offhand comment that makes them mald really hard about it and go into a snooty onesided competition to prove they GET IT actually and that you were TOTALLY wrong about them not GETTING IT." Its the only way Dirk and Rose start caring.

Terezi and John get nudged around by their respective compadres about fashion sense and style, but they generally dont give a damn and have their own thing going for them. Theyve got their own vibe and style that feels well on them and especially terezi wise i think she would lean into the fashion disaster for fun. As long as the colours taste well together, who gives a damn about layering etc etc. throw in some crocs with a suit. An oversized shirt with a tapered skirt. Who cares. John is more tried and true but he styles out ENOUGH so he doesnt end up in the last (deorgatory) category.

Dave and Karkat are the real stubborn contendors of the friendgroup fashionwise. Baggy on baggy outfitwear. WILL get on your case if you point out had it not been for their respective colour choices they basically dress the exact same. Same mix of cargo pants, sweatpants, tracksuit pants, hoodies, and tshirts to keep them going for the lifetime. There js nothing else. Whats layering. Accessories? Well except for a watch hard pass. Patterned clothing? No way. Basic colours ONLY. Maybe Dave would dig long shorts ive always seen him as a longshorts kind of guy but its never anything noteworthy. Type of guys to choose what theyre wearing with their eyes closed thats how basic their closet is.

Anyways thats my style and fashion thoughts. Let me know what you think. Discuss and all that. Also tag yourself on which one youre closest to stylewise. Im jake. Obviously.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Apricity

07/12/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings: rpf, language, alcohol, heartbreak, pining, fluff

Summary: After a painful breakup, Andrew needs the comfort of his best friend.

A/N: I'm going to church tonight, and I brought an offering for the god(s). Hope you like it.

Picture by Daniel Goodman via Business Insider

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

“Last orders.”

The booming voice rolled through the thick, hot air like thunder. It was a wonder they could hear it at all above the music and buzz of voices, she thought, but the bearded man behind the counter looked like the type who knew exactly how to make himself heard. Andrew on the other hand was not a man who raised his voice in conversation regularly, still she shivered when instead she suddenly felt his hot breath waft through her hair.

“Shall we take another?”

But he was gone before she could even turn to face him, let alone process his words and form a coherent answer.

“Oh, so no to that,” he misconstrued the confusion on her face as their eyes finally met. “You could have just said so, you know. No need to pull a face like that.”

“What face?”

“You know, the one where your eyebrows knit together just a tiny bit and the corners of your mouth fall a little.”

He tried to mimic her expression and whether he had intended to or not, he made her laugh. And as if that wasn’t enough already, he smiled along, that crooked half-smile of his, almost as if he was surprised anything he did could genuinely amuse her. 

“Andrew, that’s just my usual face. It doesn’t mean anything. Although…”

“Ah, see. Not just your usual face after all then. You can’t fool me, you should have realised that by now. I don’t know why you still keep trying though.”

The slight curl of his lips reappeared for a moment, making him look so very proud of himself. And, for the first time this evening, almost a little happy. Now who was she to take that away from him by telling the truth: that she had been fooling him about her true feelings for months, maybe even years, and very successfully so, it seemed. 

“You’re a grown-up, Andrew. Have a drink if you want another. But—”

The last word had earned her a very dramatic roll of his eyes.

“I knew there was a ‘but’.”

“Yes, Freud, we know, you can look through me like glass, anticipating my every move.”

He chuckled. “Finally you see reason, woman.”

“But seriously,” she could see another remark form behind his mischievous eyes, so she was quick to make her point, “is that wise? Another drink will only make you sadder than you already are.”

“Sad? I’m not sad. I’m angry. Fucking furious to be precise.” 

Mostly with himself, she assumed. In all this time she had known him, he had never held a grudge against anyone for long, if at all. But it wasn’t as easy for him to forgive himself at times. Still, anger was progress.

“Good.” Softly she squeezed his hand and waited until the tension of his sudden outburst slowly subsided. “That’s good. You’re moving into the next phase then.”

He mumbled something under his breath, the sentence impossible to understand against the bustle of the pub. The only word she could identify was “Freud”, enough to help her understand that it had just been another of his sassy retorts. His next words came clearer though.

“If that really is a good thing, why can I hear concern in your voice?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think you would recover from her so soon.”

Andrew had not told her what exactly had passed between them and she didn’t want to pry. She only knew that they had argued, and that his girlfr—ex-girlfriend—had given him an ultimatum of some sort. Whatever it had been about, he obviously hadn’t decided in the woman’s favour.

“Why shouldn’t I?” 

Before she was able to stop herself, she could feel her brow rise, reminding him that they both knew he wasn’t the type that skipped through relationships. The final decision had been made a mere five days ago, a rather short time in her opinion to move into the phase of anger. But Andrew wasn’t her and for all she knew whatever it was that had led to the sudden end of this relationship might have given him reason in abundance to be infuriated. 

“Come on, I only knew her for what? About half a year? It’s not as if she was…” For a brief moment he paused, his eyes resting on her while he tried to swallow the words that had already been forming on his tongue. But it was too late and when he finally continued, his voice was softer than it had been all evening, almost fragile. “…the love of my life.”

Eagerly he gulped down the remains of his drink as if to clean his mouth from its last statement before the glass hit the counter with an audible clink.

“You’re right though. I probably shouldn’t have another one of these. Better call it a night.”

He didn’t even wait for her response, long fingers already busy stuffing his lush bun underneath a grey beanie. She had just slipped into her jacket when he already turned to lead the way. It would be easy to get to the entrance with him in the lead, his tall form parting the crowd effortlessly for them. But he didn’t seem quite as confident in the impact of his height as he hesitated for a moment. She had no idea why, not until she could suddenly feel the warmth of his hand closing around her own. His action startled her, only for a brief second, while her brain was trying to recall a thousand memories at once just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken in thinking that he had never done this before. He hadn’t. Still it felt normal. Easy. Everything was always easy with him. Conversations, silence, laughing, crying — it was all easy. Effortless and comfortable. Natural.

It wasn’t long though before they were met with the cold night air. It hit her hard, almost making her take a step back as, with the first inhale of fresh air, it invaded her lungs. Still it was nothing, an irrelevant fact, drowned out against the much harsher sensation of his hand gliding out of hers. 

He didn’t even need to fully raise the hand that had been hers for a blink of time to make the taxi hold in front of them. But it was enough for the icy air to crawl underneath her clothes and wrap around her in a tight grip. Not even his sweet gesture of holding the door for her combined with the warmth that streamed towards her from inside the cabin could keep her from shaking violently.

And it didn’t stop. Not when the door closed, not when his body pressed against hers in the limited space of the back seat. She was almost convinced that nothing would ever stop this chill, when suddenly his voice filled the silence to state the obvious.

“You’re shivering. Come here.”

And then his arm was there, invading the unclaimed territory of her neck and shoulders to pull her close. It may have been the spirits inside her system, making her needy and weak to his touch. Whatever it was, she didn’t care as she sank deeper and deeper into the unmatched heat that seeped freely from him, directly underneath her skin. She could feel his chest rising and falling so evenly, as if her closeness meant nothing, as if this was the normal way to be. It was infectious, hypnotising her into a state of untainted drowsiness, one last thought remaining on her mind. This was it, not just the normal way to be, the only way to be. Even more so as his lips pressed to her hair, a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter, and she knew that she would never recover from this moment, however insignificant it was to him.

“I don’t think I told you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

His words were mumbled against the crown of her head, almost inaudible above the noise of the car and the blaring music from the radio, but she had heard them and would cherish them forever, sealed inside her heart until her last breath.

For most, they would be the bare minimum after crossing an ocean in a hurry simply because she had known something was off. She always knew, from the fatigued tone of his voice to the slight change of colour in his eyes, from the way he had to force his smile, never quite reaching the full infectious gleam it usually held, his mind anywhere but with her while his fingers kneaded the palm of his hand in discomfort. 

She also knew that it had probably been an overreaction, but she would do a lot more for him than spend her last savings on a transatlantic flight and an overpriced Airbnb, for him, she would walk all the way through the eternal fires of hell and back if that was what it took to make him whole again. He probably wouldn’t do the same for her, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t expect him to, that was not the way love worked.

“Well, first and foremost I came here to whup that woman’s ass for treating you like...well, the way she did. Comforting you was just second on my list.”

Stirred by a deep chuckle, his hot breath wafted through her hair for the second time this night. It was addictive, and dangerous, because it made her want to cuddle in deeper until it was too late to let go. And right now, just for a second, she allowed herself to hope that he might actually let her. Later this night, she promised herself, she would forget all about it. Forget about the soothing warmth he gave her and the light his presence brought to her life, always. It would be hard to erase the memory of a love that had never been and never would, even more so in the cold of an unfamiliar bed, reminding her mercilessly that she was just another foreigner in a city of millions of strangers. In a world where no one truly knew her but one. And even he didn’t know the one thing she so desperately wanted him to know, yet feared to tell him the most.

“We both know that’s not true.” For a second she held her breath, stupidly fearing he had been listening in on her thoughts. “You couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

Technically, he was right, she silently agreed with him while she relaxed in his arms again. But this was about him. And seeing him like this, this gentle, loving, warm soul, defeated by the betrayal of someone he had given his whole heart to—even if he denied that now… To her, that was reason enough for far more than just a firm ass-whupping.

Maybe she should finally listen to the nagging voice inside her head and tell him just that. It seemed simple enough, a few words spoken from the heart and it would at last be out of her system. After month and month of silence it would be out in the open, released from her heart and yet vague enough for him to take it one way or the other. Like a spectator from the outside she felt herself move to leave his embrace, but before she even had the chance to open her mouth, he beat her to it. A strained groan fell from his lips, eyes rolling heavily in their sockets and she thought she might have missed the moment in which she had already made her confession without even noticing, when she realised his agitation had nothing to do with her at all. 

“Oh, come on. Of all the songs…”

Instant relief washed over her, causing a rush to the head that made her feel a little lightheaded. Enough for a cheeky grin to curl her lips.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t even think about—” he warned, but too late.

“Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now ‘cause you’re not welcome anymore…”

Her voice sounded all croaky and flat and she gave it her all to make it sound even worse. Knowing her absolute lack of talent, she usually avoided singing in public, and it had only ever happened on a handful of occasions, when the alcohol had made her indifferent to the physical pain she caused her poor audience. Andrew had always teased her relentlessly afterwards, but she knew all too well that he found it endearing and very amusing. He couldn’t deny that now, although his furrowed brows might give a different impression, but it didn’t take long until he accepted his defeat and the sweetest of smiles spread on his lips. And after leaving her hanging for another few lines, he joined in.

“I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high and you see me, somebody new, I'm not that chained-up little person still in love with you. And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free. Well, now I'm saving all my lovin' for someone who's loving me…”

They were both belting at the top of their lungs, all the way through the song, and when it finally ended, they fell back into their seats, giggling and panting violently as if they had just finished running a marathon. She was still holding her belly, completely wrapped up in their little cocoon of pure joy when she realised that something was off. She hadn’t noticed at first, but the taxi had come to a stop. It was hard to tell how long it had been standing in front of the red brick row house already, but if the driver’s face was anything to go by, it might have been quite a moment since their arrival. 

He cleared his throat while he held her gaze in the mirror and Andrew’s laughter died away as well. She hated the cabby a little for taking this moment away from her friend and threw him a dirty look. Andy deserved being happy, so much, if only for the length of one single song. Careful to soften her gaze, she turned to look at him.

“Well, I guess this is me then.”

His answer was nothing but a tight lipped smile that left her with a thousand different options of interpretation. She was still trying to work out its meaning when for the second time this night, he took her completely by surprise.

It wasn’t the fact that he reached out for her to pull her in for a hug that startled her, he always did that before they said goodbye, but the way his embrace felt just a little tighter, his familiar scent more intoxicating than usual and the wool of his coat that suited him so exceptionally well unbelievably soft underneath her fingertips. In a mere moment he invaded her whole being, flowing through her freely until she could hear her soul hum in the silence that surrounded them. 

It felt unholy to pull away, the sacrilege petrifying her in her seat, leaving her with no option but to stare at him. She had almost forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. That lush, mossy green, flecked with warm, earthy shades, she wanted to dive into them, and never return. 

And there it was again, that one feeling she only ever had when she was with him. It was hard to pin down, it was not as if she was not complete without him. She was. But she had spent her whole life trying to fit in and with him, she didn’t have to. It just came naturally.

For a tiny moment, it seemed as if he was moving closer again. She noticed his eyes fall to her lips, or maybe she had imagined it. Either way, she couldn’t help herself from doing the same, watching the pink pillows open the slightest bit, a sigh waiting to fall, or a word, but it never came. Instead, a dog barked somewhere nearby and the moment was gone. 

When she looked up, it was unmistakeable that the sadness had returned to his eyes as well. She hated it, hated every second they didn’t shine as brightly as they usually did. She missed the excitement they used to hold, the warmth and kindness they radiated from beneath his long lashes. And her heart broke for him all over again.

A soothing smile on her lips, the palm of her hand cupped his bearded cheek. She wanted to tell him that even if everyone were to abandon him, she would always be there. The words were forming in her mind so clearly, all she had to do was open her mouth and deliver them, but instead she heard herself say, “There is someone out there for you, Andrew. I’m sure of it.”

He returned her smile, faintly, but it was definitely there and it didn’t leave even as he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. 

“Good night.”

“Night, love. I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded, and then she was gone. Andrew moved over to the spot where she had been sitting to watch her walking up the stairs. One hand pressed against the leather of the seat, he felt her warmth that still remained, felt his skin soaking it up to let it warm him from the inside. 

She had always possessed this power, to warm him up and thaw his heart, even though he had thought that this time it had frozen for good. But the second he had taken her hand in that pub—whatever had driven him to do so—he had known that all would be well eventually. It had been so right, so natural, to feel her like that, if only he would be brave enough to tell her. But he could never, not as long as there was even the slightest possibility she didn’t feel the same. Because more than loving her in secret, it would hurt to lose her forever. He would rather have her as a friend than not at all because for him, there was no life without her. 

There was no way he would ever tell her, but it was this exact truth that had ended his last relationship. Faced with the choice between her and anyone else in this world, it would always be her. No matter what. There had never been the tiniest chance he could have decided otherwise. 

And now he was surer than ever that he had made the right choice. Maybe this night had made him delirious, he still couldn’t tell. She had been so close, filling first his senses and then his mind with nothing but her until he had let himself believe that this could really be it. His life as it was supposed to be. For a second he had even imagined that she was leaning in, that she wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted to seal her lips with his. 

But even if she had, it was probably only pity speaking. Or worse, she might have thought that he needed a cheap substitute to drown his pain. And nothing could be further from the truth. He had almost been thankful for the bark that had interrupted them, without it he would never have found the strength to pull away and return her abrupt goodbye. Still, it was better this way. By morning he would have forced himself to forget about everything that could have been tonight, he would call her as he had promised and pretend that she didn’t hold his heart. It had always been like that. And it always would be. 

She had almost made it to the door by now. Her steps already slowing while she was fumbling for the keys in her bag. He didn’t know how hard it was for her to hurdle the remaining distance between herself and the door. Especially with all the tears clouding her gaze. She had felt them coming even before the taxi door had closed behind her. And so she hadn’t looked back, afraid he might see. And now that she had almost made it, she couldn’t even find those bloody keys in her stupid bag. 

It seemed like a miracle when she finally closed her hand around the cold metal to bring it to the dim light of the streetlamps. But her triumph had been too hasty, the keys gliding out of her slippery fingers and shattering onto the ground with an ugly clattering noise. 

The frustration set loose more tears, forcing her to fish around blindly for them and when she had finally managed to find them, she fumbled around equally clumsily to find the keyhole. Her only solace was that she had heard the taxi pull away while she had been hunching on the ground, so at least nobody had seen. He hadn’t seen.

“You know, I was wondering,” she jolted upon the unexpected voice, her keys hitting the ground once more as she turned around in a hurry to find him right in front of herself. “When you said someone— Are you crying?”

“No,” she promptly replied, but it was useless to deny the obvious, she realised, as her croaky voice sounded through the silence, fresh tears still burning hot on her cheeks. And Andrew being Andrew, he didn’t hesitate. In the blink of an eye he was there, gentle hands cupping her face and wiping away the salty streams. 

“Why are you crying, love?”

She didn’t answer, her throat sealed by a lump of fear. If she answered truthfully now, she would lose him. And she couldn’t, she mustn’t.

But he knew anyway. It was obvious from the way his forehead wrinkled and his eyes softened upon the realisation. She hadn’t expected the crooked smile though that slowly began to grace his lips. 

“I see.”

His lips were even softer than she could have ever imagined, moving so tenderly with hers. And even though this was happening so fast that she didn’t know if she was awake or dreaming, she felt herself relax in his arms. Letting go of all her worries was suddenly so easy. Everything was easy with him. 

[starryylies]

Tf-141 and Roblox.

<This is a kinda satire post cuz I’m stupid and I can’t think. Im so sorry if its really out of character and stupid but hope you enjoy>

Reader is younger (19-20), cussing, mention of bullying kids (satire), ooc, live love Roblox and yes

~ Me on Roblox ~

Price-

-he didn’t know what Roblox was until you explained the whole thing to him.

-he first thought it was a blocks game for kids

-he calls it roadblox 💀

-you made him start off playing speed run with you since you both could play together and race :D

-but long story short he could not finish through the first level.

-he always strayed away from the path and ended up dying more than 7 times in 5 minutes.

-easy to say he got frustrated and stopped playing the game :(((

-you convinced him to try another game which is easier Better for beginners

- he agreed and you made him play tower of hell

- he hates it.

-played speed draw once and got annoyed that his masterpiece of a drawing lost to a scrambled egg.

-doesn’t play Roblox again. Buys you robux though.

Simon-

-‘’what the fuck is robust love!?!?’’

-‘siiii it’s robux’

-‘I ain’t playing that

-‘you don’t have to play just pay 🥺’

-‘I ain’t paying for that unless I know what this shit is’

- he regrets saying that.

-you made him play aimblox.

-he fails miserably.

-calls it a stupid game for kids (HOW DARE HE!?!)

-you get pissed at him. (Pissed as in you don’t talk to him for a day)

-he makes it up to you by buying robux.

-(love is in the air again 😍)

-won’t ever call it a stupid kids game again. (Learnt his lesson)

-you find him trying to play Roblox again when he’s alone, trying to get better.

-he will deny that he enjoys the game till the end of time.

-he reaches lvl70 in a week.

-blames you for making him addicted to the game.

-loves you though. (Loves the game too won’t admit it though)

Johnny‘’Soap’’MacTavish-

-likes shooting games a lot.

-plays lots of themmmm.

-has a family with three kids in Brookhaven with two pet chickens which he sometimes eats.

-(I’m vegetarian)

-you’re his family on Brookhaven and he named the kids with your name and his name mixed.

-will fight kids in speed draw. Literally.

-jk he doesn’t bully kids he just starts writing in hashtags when he’s pissed. Or Scottish.

-loves breaking into other peoples (gaz’s) home in Brookhaven.

-loves going to those restaurant games with you.

Kyle ‘gaz’ Garrick-

-pro gamer.

-loves zombie uprising and many shooting games.

-loves those short horror story games.

-loves going on them with you to scare the shit outta you. (He’s the one who gets scared)

-pretty rich in Brookhaven.

-has lots of robux on him.

-has finished all the stages in speed run with all the dimensions.

-pro in tower of hell, like actual pro.

-tried playing mimic, he never tried again.

-plays the special forces stimulator just to make fun of it.

-his house in Brookhaven always gets broken into.

-realises it’s soap breaking into his house.

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊

[cheschesterpossum]

Anon from Unicorn made humans au ah thank you! I'm glad you find my au interesting. I read up a bit more on your au poor Miku and Jake 😟 being turned into Cybertron and then being on the Decepticon ship. Miku and Starscream relationship is interesting as he toke on a guardian/mentor role for her but its actual going while and he does care for her but is afraid of it because she can be used against him if the other knew. I wanna see Miku and Starscream scheme together to overthrow Megatron 👏

Yes! Low key Not my neighbour and among us vibes in these au along with inspiration from Evangelion. Funny you mention humans being the equivalent of fae to Cybertronian. I was trying to find a name for the Unicorn human primes. The the title of prime is from their god name Primus so i was trying to do the same, i got 3 names as the result. Uni which sounds like Oni which is a demon. Yumi which is a Japanese word for bow but can also mean history/origin and beauty. And Yokai, which for now I'm gonna use but if you have any ideas for what the human primes title should be i would like to hear them.

I was thinking in the setting the Yokai were born after the Primes defeated and sealed Unicorn away. The Primes were born as fully fledged adults but since they put Unicorn to sleep these result in the Yokai to be born prematurely around the age of a young teen. These can go either two way where because Unicorn was sealed away before he can form a relationship with his Yokai. They don't know what their purpose is and what Cybertronians are, so their able to grow independently and repopulate. And when the Autobots made contact both parties thought they were one in the same until the growing realisation that no there not. Like a wolf meeting a dog for the first time.

Or the Primes were present when the Yokai were born and now has the moral dilemma of what they should do. When they killed Unicorn first iteration of humans it was simple choice as it was an act of self defence and they were drones. But with the Yokai not only are they thinking entities but their literally children. So it can focus ob the Primes trying to raise the Yokai but having these fear that what their doing is the right thing and their not raising a monster.

Like the child Yokai sees one of the Primes smile and then tries to copy that smile. Their face twitch trying to emulate the emotion to show that their also happy which is cute but incredible creepy to see. And the concern that maybe its just learning so that the Yokai can fully pretend to be a Cybertron.

Ooo yes! The humans won't have an alt mode but can wear tires and window of the like to pretend they can. I imagine it's also decorative like jewellery for them and yes the armour would just be a protective shell and they don't feel when their armour is scratch.

It would take more force, for example a punch for the human to feel it though their armoured planting.

Very interesting! Although the Miko and Jack one isn't my AU, im pretty sure it's @witchofthesouls, the ex-human that reincarnated as cyb but human organs remain was just an idea i wanted to share.

The Prime's getting torn on what to do with the Yokai then ended up raising them would be a pretty funny thought, since I imagine Yokai and Cybs are vastly different even as a child. Toddlers are a nightmare to babysit, they're mostly very energetic and then there's teenagers in their rebellious phase, gonna turn the mighty Primes into tired wine mom, probably lolol.

Oh yes, the start of learning how to mimic and act, remind me a lot of the song Extension Of You.

i can see humans decorating their armor, like the way they tattoo their skin.

[jettingtothemoon]

Daughter of the Spirits; chapter 14

➳ pairing: zuko x f!reader ➳ genre: a retelling of the show from season 2 onwards with a heavy focus and expansion on zuko’s story (canon divergent) ➳ warnings: violence, swearing, smut (underaged if your age of consent is above 16), spoilers for anyone who hasn’t seen the show ➳ word count: 2840 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which y/n comes across the fire nation prince during her stay in Ba Sing Se. ➳ tags: @harmlessoffering @lammello @hannahdinse8 @ok-boke @stranger-chan @nekee-lilac02 @inutheangel @kalea-gooch @meiraloves2dmen @cozy-fantasy-corner @urmomlikeslinotoo @brain-has-left @iluvme547 @nadlx33333 @savannah0111 @browneyedgirl22 @swoon-for-joon @vyliie (i’m sorry if i’m forgetting anyone, lmk if i am or if you want to be added)

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14,

Inner Conflict

The very next day Zuko set out to teach Aang. He asked you to take part, nervous to teach the Avatar on his own, but you reminded him that this was something he and Aang needed to do alone. At least, until they had some time to bond. You weren’t sure if or when that would happen but you wanted more than anything for the pair to truly reconcile and put old grudges behind them.

So while he taught the Avatar, you decided to spend your time getting to know the others in the group better. You wandered through the camp and found Toph sitting on a rock, casually bending small rocks into intricate shapes to pass the time. You admired her skill and approached her with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Toph. Mind if I join you?" you asked.

The young girl shrugged. "Sure, if you can keep up."

You sat down next to her and tried to mimic her movements, but your rocks crumbled to dust. Toph laughed, and you joined in, enjoying the moment of camaraderie.

“It’s your Waterbender energy, you need to stop following the flow and stiffen up. Throwing boulders and making walls is one thing but something smaller,” she rock in front of her began to take shape, morphing into a small figurine of the Avatar’s flying bison, “requires more thought and precision.”

For someone so young, she was insanely skilled. A more than worthy companion of the avatar. You could learn a lot from her, just as you knew you could learn a lot from everyone, if they just gave you and Zuko a chance.

You both chatted for a while, talking about your journeys and experiences. You spoke of your home back in Omashu and of your parents, whom you missed so dearly, and she told you a little of her upbringing and how she left her parents behind to join the avatar on his journey. Toph was tough but honest, and you found her perspective refreshing.

After some time, you noticed Sokka nearby, practising with his boomerang. Toph nudged you, urging you to go and speak to the boy, and you realised she was helping you. You needed to prove that you were on their side, that you were more than Zuko’s girlfriend. That you wanted to be a part of this team. "Looks like Sokka could use some company. Go on, give him a hand."

You walked over to Sokka, who was deeply focused on his drills. "Hey, Sokka, need a sparring partner?"

Sokka paused and looked at you, a bit surprised but then grinned. "Why not? Just don't go easy on me."

The two of you moved to a more open space and readied your stances, preparing for hand-to-hand combat. Sokka grinned as he twirled his boomerang before tossing it aside. "Alright y/n, let's see what you've got."

You both started slowly, testing each other's reflexes. Sokka was the first to throw a punch, which you blocked with ease and responded with a blow of your own that he quickly dodged. The match was intense as you each gave as good as you got but trying to fight without your bending felt almost foreign now, even after so many years of hiding what you could really do. Sokka, despite his appearance and light-hearted demeanour, was a skilled fighter. His strategic mind shined through in his every move, always a step ahead as he predicted your actions and countered them with precision.

"You've got to be faster," Sokka teased, ducking under your strike and tapping your shoulder lightly as he rolled away. "Imagine you're facing a Fire Nation soldier, not a friend."

You grinned back, trying to keep up with his quick movements. "I think I can handle a few soldiers, Sokka."

The fight escalated, your strikes becoming more powerful and focused. You threw a series of punches, each aimed with intent, but Sokka blocked them with surprising ease. Before you knew what was happening, he swept your legs out from under you, and you hit the ground with a thud. Your chest rose and fell in haste as you regained your breath and soon, Sokka was there to offer you a hand in getting back up.

"You're relying too much on your bending," he said, helping you to your feet. "You need to learn how to fight without it. Our enemies have a chi-blocker, and if you can't bend, you'll be vulnerable."

You dusted yourself off, nodding thoughtfully. "I know Ty Lee. We were friends before we left. I hope we don't find ourselves against each other on the battlefield."

Sokka's expression softened for a moment. "I hope so too. But just in case, you need to be prepared. Chi-blockers are no joke."

You sighed, the weight of the situation settling over you. "You're right. I can't rely solely on my bending. I'll train harder."

Sokka clapped you on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. And don't worry, we've got each other's backs out there."

You chatted together as you headed back to the camp, laughing and joking as you walked along. You felt closer now, which was a relief. But opening up to you was one thing, putting their faith in Zuko was another entirely.

Just as you made your way back into camp, Katara came wandering over with a look in her eye that told you she had something she wanted to say. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, her tone leaving little room for refusal.

You nodded, sensing that this conversation had been a long time coming. You and Katara walked a little away from the others, finding a quiet spot near the river, and you couldn’t quell your nerves.

"I need to understand something," Katara began, her voice tense. "Why are you still with Zuko? After everything he's done, how can you still stand by his side?"

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "I know Zuko has made mistakes, Katara. But I've seen the light inside him. He's trying to change, really. I've seen him struggle with this for so long, always questioning his choices, wondering if he’s doing the right thing. He’s trying to be better, to be good. That's why he’s here, to finally make the right choice."

Katara's eyes flashed with anger. "But he's hurt so many people! He betrayed us, tried to capture Aang so many times. How can you trust him after all that?"

"I understand your anger, Katara," you replied softly. "I really do. But people can change. I know you've seen it too. Zuko's not the same person he was. He finally wants to do some good and sees the damage the Fire Nation has done. Do you know how hard it was for him to leave everything he’s ever known behind? To turn his back on his own nation? His friends? His family? He needs our support, Katara, not our hatred. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Katara crossed her arms, her expression softening slightly but still guarded. "It's not as simple as that. Even if I wanted to believe in him, it's hard to forget everything he's done."

"Please, just give him a chance to prove himself," you urged. "I believe in him, and I think, deep down, you do too. So please, help me help him become the person he wants to be."

Katara looked down, her resolve wavering. "Maybe you're right, but I can’t so easily trust him. I’ve been betrayed by him enough times, we all have. He can’t keep changing his mind, what’s to say he won’t do so again? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust, not after everything he’s done."

"That's fair," you agreed. "I know right now you can only see what he has done and not what he wants to do going forward. If you can’t trust him, then trust in me. He won’t turn his back on any of us again. Please, give him a chance."

Katara nodded slowly. "I'll try. For Aang's sake, and for yours. But he better not mess this up."

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief. "Thank you, Katara. It means a lot."

As you returned to the camp, you felt hopeful. The path to reconciliation was never easy, but with patience and understanding, you believed that Zuko could truly become a valued member of the team.

When the sun began its descent from the sky, Zuko came to pull you aside. Without a word you followed him, allowing him to quietly lead you along with in hand wrapped snugly around your own.

“I can’t teach him,” he said when you finally reached your room, a place away from prying eyes and ears.

You frowned. “You can’t teach Aang? Why?”

Zuko sighed and slumped down onto the bed. “It’s my bending… It’s gone. How am I supposed to teach the avatar, or even fight, when I can only muster a small flame?”

Moving to sit beside him, you took his hand again. For the first time since you’d known him, he felt cold. The tips of his fingers chilled you to touch, even as you encased them with your own warmth.

“Maybe I can help with that…”

He raised an eyebrow as you turned towards him, resting a gentle hand to his cheek as your lips met. He followed your lead as you climbed over him, deepening your kiss, and only pulled away when your hands started to tug at his clothes.

“Look,” he spoke softly, “it’s not that I’m not enjoying this, but how will it help bring my bending back?”

You kissed his cheek softly, letting your lips linger for a moment before trailing them down to his jawline, each kiss deliberate and tender. As your lips brushed against the curve of his neck, you felt his pulse quicken beneath the surface. Smiling against his skin, you murmured, "Maybe a little bit of passion will reignite your fire."

Zuko chuckled and hummed, signalling that there would be no protest from him. His arms moved to hold you, one of his hands slipping into your hair as he kissed you again. It was a silly idea and you both knew it but, if anything, a distraction might be exactly what he needed.

You shifted slightly, pressing your body closer to his as your lips met once more. This kiss was slower, deeper, and filled with all the reassurance and affection you could muster. Zuko's initial hesitancy melted away as he responded, his lips moving in sync with yours. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer.

You could feel the tension in his body slowly easing away and hoped more than anything to soothe him in this moment of uncertainty. He let out a contented sigh, the warmth between you gradually spreading.

Zuko's fingers threaded through your hair, his touch both gentle and urgent. He tilted his head back slightly, giving you better access as you continued to kiss along his neck and collarbone. Your hands slid beneath his robes, sliding it free of his shoulders and your lips followed the path of untouched skin. The feeling of your lips against him seemed to bring a faint, reassuring warmth back into him.

He rolled over, guiding you beneath him, his lips finding yours again in a series of passionate, lingering kisses. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close to savour the closeness and comfort it brought.

“I love you,” you spoke as you began to slip free of your own clothes, feeling your skin bare against his own. “I love you so much.”

He grinned into your kiss, his hands too working to rid you of the fabric that kept you from him. He seemed more confident than he had before, as though your words made him feel like he could take on the world so long as you were at his side.

“I…” he muttered, “I don’t know what to do.”

You could feel the flush of his cheeks in your hands as you kissed him again, offering a gentle smile against his lips. "It's alright," you whispered, your voice a soothing balm. "We don't need to rush this."

His uncertainty melted away bit by bit as your hands traced the contours of his face, guiding him with patient tenderness. He followed your lead, his touches growing more assured as he explored the warmth and comfort you offered.

His hands roamed over your skin, each caress imbued with a newfound confidence. He marvelled at the way your bodies fit together, the way your breath mingled as your kisses deepened. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of shared heat and intimacy.

“I want to…” his breath was hot against your lips, his forehead gently learning against your own. “I really want to… but this,” your kisses grew languid and his brows furrowed, frustration seeping back in, and before you knew what was happening he was pulling away, “...this isn’t working.”

Although you understood his annoyance with himself, you couldn’t help but feel the ache in your heart as Zuko pulled away, his words hanging heavily in the air. The warmth that had been building between you dissipated, leaving a cold chill in its wake. His kiss he pressed to your cheek felt more like a farewell as he swiftly pulled his robes back on.

Silence settled in the room, broken only by the rustle of fabric and the sound of Zuko pacing restlessly while he thought, now possibly more frustrated than he was before. Slowly, you sat up and wrapped your arms around yourself, all of a sudden feeling exposed and vulnerable. The intimacy shared between you moments ago already felt like a distant memory, replaced by the reality of Zuko's frustration and the conflict within himself.

"I... I'm sorry," you whispered, the words catching in your throat. You wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him and hold him and make all his worries go away, but you knew he needed space.

Zuko ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, his back turned to you. "It's not your fault," he said quietly, his voice soft and fatigued. "I appreciate what you were trying to do. But... I can't... I need my bending, y/n. What use am I to the avatar without it?"

You pulled the blankets around you, disappointed that things hadn’t gone further and acutely aware of the ache that was left behind in the remnants of his touch. “It’ll be alright, I promise.”

With a deep breath, Zuko turned to look at you. His eyes were soft, conveying all the love and gratitude he had for you, but within them lingered a persistent trace of doubt. Not in you, but in himself. "I need time to figure things out," he admitted, his voice vulnerably raw. "Alone."

You nodded again, knowing there was nothing else you could say to comfort him now. You had done your part and it hadn’t helped. It was up to him now to figure this out. You wanted to be strong for him, to show him that you could support him even in moments like this, but you didn’t know what to do. How could you sit by and watch him suffer through something knowing there was nothing you could do to help?

Zuko approached you cautiously, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His touch was tender but fleeting, both a silent apology and farewell. "I... I'll be back," he promised softly, though the uncertainty in his eyes mirrored the ache in your heart.

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the quiet room. Your arms tightened around yourself, trying to hold onto the warmth that had left with him, and you smiled. Not because you were happy but because he was trying. He wanted to do the right thing and maybe his issues with his bending had something to do with that. Whatever it was, you were certain he would figure it out.

The room felt emptier now, colder despite the lingering heat of your shared intimacy. You buried your face in your hands, letting the weight of the moment wash over you. All you could do now was wait and hope that Zuko would find solace in the stars if he could not find it in you.

It was then that you realised just how deeply your love for him had carved into your beating heart because when he was suffering, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the constant void of being so far from your home and family. None of it mattered because he was in pain. What a dangerous love that is, to love someone so completely that they become all that matters to you in the world. You’d bring down the very sky for him if it would make him smile and you hoped that someday he would do the same for you.

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14,

[bts-hyperfixation]

Tour Surprise

A yoongi x reader fanfiction

Summer madness 8/31 You surprise your best friend, Yoongi, while he has a few days break on tour. The only issue is you didn't think to check if there was space for you at the hotel... looks like you're sharing a bed.

Yes I'm aware it's no longer summer

“Surprise!” You shout jumping out from behind a pillar in the hotel lobby.

Yoongi stands with his mouth agape as he takes in your sudden appearance while his security guard looks slightly concerned that you were able to just appear. You reach out and close Yoongi’s mouth for him and his brain finally seems to catch up with his eyes.

“Y/N! You’re here.” He grins, enveloping you in a hug. “I didn’t think I would get to see you until we were back in Seoul.”

“I got some time off work, thought I would fly out to see my best friend. Namjoon said you would have a couple days spare this week.”

The older rapper glared across the lobby at the band’s leader, who was doing a terrible job of pretending not to be watching the two of you. Yoongi took your bag from you and lead you through the hotel. You spent the time in the elevator telling him about your awful seatmate on the plane and complaining about how uncomfortable economy could be. He agreed with you, although you suspect he no longer knows what economy feels like.

His room is right at the end of the hall, in between those of the other members. It’s smaller than the suites they’ve had in the past. A single kingbed stands proudly in the middle of the floor, a large TV on the wall across from it, and there is a hot tub right in the far window overlooking a stunning view. Suddenly you regret not bringing a swimsuit.

There is, unfortunately, a evident lack of a sofa. The hotel seems to have opted for overstuffed armchairs around a coffee table instead. In the past when you had visited Yoongi on tour he had always been aware and had ensured a sofa bed or extra room for you, perhaps you should’ve thought ahead to ask Namjoon to book you an extra room, but he is terrible with secrets and adding an extra task would’ve basically been begging for Yoongi to find out you were coming.

He must notice you looking at all of the chairs, judging which would be most comfortable because he laughs at you and nudges his head towards the bed.

“I think this should be big enough for the two of us.”

“I didn’t want to assume you would be okay sharing a bed.” You shrug.

“I’m not sure we would even notice another person in that bed with the size of it.”

He flops on to the side of the bed he prefers, proving his point as the other side remains unperturbed. He stretches his arms across the pillows, his fingertips barely reaching past the middles. You quash the disappointment that appears unwanted in the pit of your stomach. A left over reflex of a years old crush.

You kick off your shoes and mimic his actions, your fingertips brushing against his wrist as you land. His arm recoils back to his own side and you try not to think too much about it. You wriggle, messing up the sheets around you.

“I can’t believe how comfy this thing is.” You say, bouncing a little.

“I should hope so with the cost of this hotel.” Yoongi grumbles.

“Do I even want to know?” You turn on your side to face him.

“Probably not.” He says, facing you too.

You study his features. He looks tired, this is the end of the tours second leg, he probably hasn’t had a moment to himself in two months. It make syou feel a little guilty when you realise you are taking up his only alone time.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” He sighs, stifling a yawn.

He has always had a way of sensing where your thoughts were headed

“Did you have a look at anything you wanted to do while you are here? We could go to a museum? Or get food?” He says excitedly, although it is followed by another yawn.

“How about we take a nap first? I had a long flight and I’m sure you had a long day.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to fight to stay awake but he ultimately abandons his plan and shrugs, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.

You shake your head as he appears to immediately fall asleep.

Dragging yourself away from comfort, you pull some pyjamas from the top of your bag and go into the bathroom to get changed. When you return Yoongi has shirked off his shirt and wiggled under the duvet. He is snoring softly as you pull the covers around yourself.

The first thing you notice as you awake is the weight on one side of your body. The second thing is the very hard appendge pressed up against your thigh.

It takes a moment for your sleep addled brain to put two and two together to work out that it is a very asleep Yoongi that is attached to you. And that it is his very awake dick that is digging into your leg.

Just as you are about to roll him away, he grinds down, whimpering in his sleep at the pressure. The noise short circuits your brain for a moment causing your thigh to move on its own to make the noise again.

It’s as your name tumbles from his lips it occurs to you what you are doing. One look at his face makes it evident that he is still fast asleep. He must be dreaming... about you.

His hips stutter against you once more and you are spurred into action, rolling him away from you a little too harshly, almost falling out of bed yourself. You cling to him to keep yourself from tipping over the edge, waking him in the process.

He blinks the sleep away from his eyes and assesses the immediate situation. He grips your arms and pulls you back into the bed chuckling to himself.

“Guess the bed wasn’t big enough after all.”

He doesn’t seem to know what woke him up, paying more attention to making sure you are safely back in bed . That is until he pulls you close and you brush up against his crotch once more. He immediately freezes, eyes glancing down between the two of you and back to your blushing face.

“Ah shit... sorry, it’s been a long, lonely couple of weeks...” He scoots back on the bed leaving plenty of room for you both. "I was going to take care of that need this afternoon... but well... you know you’re here. It’ll go away on it’s own soon.”

“I’m really sorry.” You blush...

But then an idea crosses your mind. A potentially very bad idea.

“If it’s my fault you’re stuck like this... maybe I should help you to fix it.” You suggest before you loose your nerve.

His eyebrow goes up, intrigued, before he shakes his head and gets ready to dismiss you.

“It’s not actually your fault, I was joking.”

You take note of how he doesn’t explicitly say no. Overconfidence spurs you forward before you think better of it.

“But you were dreaming about me, so it most be my fault.”

His ears turn a deep shade of red that you didn’t think was an option on the human spectrum.

“How did y...”

“You talk in your sleep. You scoot closer to him. “What was I doing in your dream? Maybe we could continue it in real life? I so rudely cut it short after all”.

In one last daring move you put your leg back between his thighs and press. Time pauses as he thinks about your offer, your brain briefly wanders to whether or not one of the others boys has a sofa available for you to use when this goes terribly south. But that moment never comes. Yoongi is suddenly back to rubbing his clothed cock against your bare leg, pushing your shorts upwards to give himself more space.

“Why do you want to help me?” He asks.

His lips are right by your ear now. He nibbles at your earlobe as he waits for your answer.

“You’re my best friend... and I love you.” You confess.

He whines and his hips move faster along your thigh.

“Let me help you properly.” You say, moving your hand down to his crotch but he pushes you away.

“You are helping.” He groans through gritted teeth.

His mouth falls away from your ear as his head nestles into the crook of your neck. He mouths blindly along you shoulder as his thrusts against your leg become more erratic. As he bites down at the base of your neck he cums hard in his pants.

You can feel the dampness seeping through the fabric of his sweats onto you. Something that would’ve embarrassed you if it was any other man, was so unbelievably sexy when it was Yoongi. You waited until his breathing evened out and he pulled away from you to speak.

“Is that what we were doing in your dream?”

“Almost exactly yeah.” He confirms/

"What was different?"

"I don’t usually cum so quickly in dreams.” He buries his face in his pillow, ashamed.

“Usually? So you dream about me a lot?”

He just nods into the pillow, too embarrassed to keep answering you.

“Always that same dream?”

This time he shakes his head no in to the pillow.

“So there are other things we could try next then.”

That gets him to lift his head up.

“You want to help me masturbate again? Even after you just saw me loose it like an 18 year old virgin?”

“Given the choice? I would prefer it to be more mutual pleasure. Although watching you like that was hot as fuck.”

“Mutual pleasure... right... Pleasing you... because you want me... like that.” He looks over at you to confirm that is what you meant.

“Yeah, I do. Provided you want me... like that.”

“I feel like I’ve proven that I do.” he says.

He pushes the duvet away and gestures to the wet patch on his pants. You take his hand a pull it towards your heat, letting him feel how wet you are yourself. He pulls his hand away and admires the moisture on his fingers.

“Just one question though.”

“shoot.”

“When you said you love me, did you mean as a friend? Or do you really love me?”

“I really love you.”

“Oh thank god.” He smiles.

Then before you get a chance to ask if he feels the same he removes the already limited space between you and covers your lips with his own.

Check out my masterlist for the other summer madness works!

[quitealotofsodapop]

I was thinking of that old post I sent you awhile back with Pokémon teams for the Pilgrims and thought "You know what, it'd be even better if, when Wukong first joined the journey with Tripitaka, he only had a couple of really small pokemon. Specifically, the chimchar that helped him before Tripitaka found him and the mankey that would eventually evolve into an Anihilape after his fight with Macaque cuz that would be thematically appropriate since Anihilape's pokedex is literally about it coming back to life as a spirit out of sheer rage and i can't imagine anything that would piss a protective primate off more than seeing theirtrainer bwing forced to kill the one they love" And I also added a damaged ear to the mankey to show it had a rough life before Wukong came along and adopted him

This one!

But yesss! Wukong just has the babies on him at first.

The little Chimchar accidentally found "a big monkey pokemon" inside a cave and thought he was stuck. He tried for a small bit to get him out, but the chains wouldn't budge. :( So instead he came back every day with pieces of fruit until Big Monkey can get strong enough to escape :)

Wukong cries the first time the little monkey rerurns to him, offering him a tiny peach/pecha berry.

Chimchar is there to greet him when Tripitaka realises him, and is hooting excitedly for his release! Though he does bite the human at first think he's trying to capture Wukong.

Tripitaka def refuses to partake in Pokemon battles, but you try telling that to two baby monkeys who wanna fight to protect their new guardian's honor (ง •̀_•́)ง

Interesting idea where Inferapes didn't actually have the gold armor/plating before Sun Wukong gained renown, and they started wearing gold to honor/mimic him.

The little Mankey having a rough life is so sad but sweet that Wukong just saw him and went "My baby monkey now".

And OHHHH the Mankey evolving into Anihilape after Wukong and Macaque's fight!! He's so furious that his protector/adoptive parent was forced to hurt his own mate that literally part of him died (symbolically so did part of Wukong).

The pokemon themselves have likely passed on since the days of the Journey, or they gained internal life in their own ways. Anihilape is a ghost type after all, and I could see a certain Wukong-looking pokemon stealing "giant pechas" to see what the big fuss is about XD

[maxrowave]

a compiled list of my CESDOC (and general cesare & doc) headcanons because i like them a lot and i am incredibly lonely lol, some of these things are reiterated in my fic but i'll mention them again anyways. - Cesare abhors silence. It reminds him of his time being dead and inanimate. It also emphasises just how undead he is—no heartbeat or breath to cure the silence. So he fills the world with his intrusions on nonsense and constant clammering, fiddling, and tapping random objects. He likes the rain the most because of this. He doesn't have to make the noise himself for once; the world does it for him. That's why he also sticks around Allen, he never stops talking lol. - Allen has a no-shoes policy in his apartment, as much as he tries to avoid traditionalism. I think having no shoes in the house as one of the few distinct Asian traits he inhibits is interesting. Cesare, of course, is a menace and tracks dirt and mud into his apartment anyway. It's a work in progress between the two. (I doodled this one some time ago)

I think both of them are very touchy about the past and concepts of the past. With Cesare, obviously, talking about his life before being dead is distasteful and his life before Allen had been mostly dull. Allen (being what I presume to be a Korean-American), likely lived in a strict household, and everything he does is a rebellious reaction to his past (being a theatre major, involved in the arts, isolated from his family, etc). As a result, both of them are future-oriented, although I think it can pose a threat to Cesare as well because he has to dwell on his immortality and Allen's mortality. Cesare is always running from the future and the past.

This is a classic, but Cesare is constantly cold, and Allen is a literal heater. In some sort of natural instinct way, Cesare is always allured by warm things; he hovers by the engine of the truck, sits in the rays of the sun, trying to imitate what it would feel like if the warmth of blood was still circulating in his system. I think holding Allen is ideal for him; he pretends Allen's heartbeat is his own, mimics the way his chest rises and falls through artificial breaths. Obviously, he's very reclusive about actually indulging in this, being very touch-adverse in a fear of being vulnerable. It's an opportunity for another backstab. If their relationship does get to a trustworthy point, though, I think this is what it would look like. They just talk and hold each other.

A key part of Cesare's hesitance to engage with Allen is his fear of being attached and his immortality. He knows that Allen is ultimately a blip in his thousands of years of being alive, and how it hurts. He learnt that lesson in the first century of being undead. But like a moth to a light, he keeps coming back, and he doesn't know why.

Allen's strange fascination with Cesare is mildly rooted in his being a chronically online kid in the 2000s. I'm going off the assumption he's in his early 20s because he's a theatre major graduate, and the show takes place in the 2020s. He was a creepypasta kid, probably thought of Jeff the Killer and Slenderman as cool. I have a mini-comic of this in another post lolll

Cesare has perpetually calloused fingers, remnants of his duration of being alive as a carpenter... marionette maker... In contrast to Allen's hands, which have not seen the struggle of labour.

Conversations circulate around a lot of bickering, and Allen asks about old worlds and the universe through Cesare's eyes. Cesare always intentionally disappoints him with flat descriptions (occasionally entertaining him, though). I characterise Allen as mostly pretentious until he gets closer to Cesare, when he realises his big performances of intelligence do not fool Cesare whatsoever. Their form of humour manifests in sarcasm and irony.

Cesare's love language is physical touch; Allen's is quality time. It shows in really weird ways where Cesare lingers on every touch, chasing after it instinctually before forcing himself to pull back. Allen just likes being in Cesare's presence. I think Cesare is among the few people who can tolerate Allen's antics.

At the start of establishing Zomburger, Allen would usually show up already in costume and makeup for the day. One day, he neglects to do so, instead opting to do his makeup inside the truck before his shift starts. Cesare doesn't recognise him initially and tries to chase him out with a fly swatter out of the truck, before realising it's just Allen.

In a similar vein, Cesare sometimes gets too used to his employees looking undead. He gets comfortable and lets his guard down momentarily until the illusion drops; a blotchy patch of makeup ruined by water.

Why Cesare likes Allen. I think it comes down to Cesare being so hardened and dulled by the centuries, like a meal he's eaten too many times, and he's sick of it now. Then he sees Allen, still struggling to figure out who he is with his manufactured spontaneity and finding his place in the world, it reminds him of when he was alive. Allen is also an unstoppable force; he is stubborn in his presence, although he asks lots of questions, he doesn't necessarily press on them. Cesare appreciates his patience, having been so used to being isolated because he'd always been difficult to be around. Also, I think it's the fact that Allen is so intimate with having to be forcefully spontaneous and constructing personas, that he sees right through Cesare with his tough act. Everyone calls him boss, Allen calls him Cesare, like he knows the man behind the performative nature of Zomburger. Maybe he does.

Why Allen likes Cesare. If I haven't already made it abundantly clear, Allen struggles a lot with finding his identity. Seeing Cesare with his recklessness and unapologetic strangeness is admirable; that unfiltered existence of being himself is something Allen strives for. Does Allen like Cesare for his mystery? Yes, but it doesn't mean he'll run tail the moment he uncovers Cesare for everything that he is. He still finds his traits endearing and appreciates the qualities that have been shaped by time. Allen is attracted to the ache that Cesare tries to hide underneath everything, the softness between the cracks, as evidence that humanity prevails even in the face of time.

[seeker-of-truth-and-lies]

Premise: The scene in The Good Samaritan chapter 2 before Mark shoots the photo mirrors the church scene in chapter 6 of Mimicry.

(Idea from @markie-boo-in-your-area).

Reading these two scenes side by side, they are definitely related. The first thing I noticed was the safety being off. Of course it was off since he used the gun both times, but it feels significant in a way. In the church scene, it's a bit surprising to us, the readers, because we see that Mark is serious. He doesn't just suspect that m!Cesar is a mimic, he is almost completely sure. You don't do that to someone you think is your friend. In TGS, it is framed like a horror movie. Every action Mark takes, you're hoping he can survive. Him being able to get to the gun and take the safety off is slightly more hopeful. You understand that this is probably the way Mark felt back in the church. Speaking of feelings, these scenes mirror each other. "Mirror" as in the beginning and end are flipped. In Mimicry, Mark starts out terrified, and only when he is angry is he able to gain the courage to shoot the mimic. In TGS, Mark starts out furious but gets more scared the longer it goes on. This is just context for my next point.

I think this is trauma. Maybe a flashback of some kind, maybe not. While in a traumatizing situation, you do what you must to survive. Mark couldn't be afraid in the end because that would mean he would die. He had to be angry to survive. But the fear is still there under the surface. He starts angry in TGS because that's the emotion that will protect him, but when his mind unravels and tries to process what happened, he is terrified, as he rightfully should be. The mind tends to not let you feel your full feelings about a painful situation until it feels like it is out of that situation. I think that may have some part in it as well. Judging by the paragraph where the past three days' intensity hits him seems to support that. Here is a relevant paragraph to these few points in case you don't want to look for it on your own: "Nine shots left - he hadn’t changed the clip since that day in the woods when- when- oh God, oh fuck, what the fuck was happening?! The crisis tried to hit him all at once - the overwhelming realisation of just how insane the past three days really had been - but he pushed through it, refused to buckle, to fall beneath its weight. If he did, he would die." The quote is at about the point where the situation turns from scary to dangerous, and Mark is trying to do anything he can to survive. For extra context, the messed up parts of what happen in TGS chapter 2 are revealed to not be real and are a figment of Mark's mental state, though he believes it to be real at the time. The last point I can make about the two scenes' connection is when the bullet is fired. First off, here is a slight parallel: "Cesar though… his side was punctured by the bullet, punching a hole through his chest and tearing the paper up and across his face; warping the features, unable to put them back together in a way that looked right." This is relating to Cesar's death and the mimic that replaced him. Cesar will never be the same because he is dead. Any image of him is now wrong because he doesn't exist in that way anymore. Anything that is left is wrong and warped, just like the photo. Secondly, both times he shot the gun, they are done in self defense, with Mark afraid for his life. After the first time, he feels guilt and does not want to think about shooting the mimic, but in TGS, he does it again, or so he thinks. The reason why he would do that again other than for survival is because the first time it looked like Cesar, and the second time, it didn't. Mark doesn't care about it, not even a little bit, so he has no guilt when hurting it in any other form. Obviously Mark knew it wasn't Cesar after it disappeared and after it showed what it was, so why did he still feel guilty? I think it is very possible that Mark thought the mimic was mimicking what it heard when Cesar died. I'm pretty sure that was canon, at least that he considered it. The fact that it shouldn't be able to feel by itself would mean to Mark that it had to have heard that somewhere before. If Mark didn't shoot it, he wouldn't have had to hear Cesar's screams. Maybe he longs for the bliss of ignorance. Maybe he feels like it's partially his fault it happened to Cesar in the first place. For some more context, Mark and Cesar had an argument just the week before, and both refused to speak to each other. By what we know of Mark's character, we could assume that to him, shooting m!Cesar represented that he had somehow "killed" Cesar by not saving him. That is why it disturbs him so much.

[livelaughlovesubs]

— HELLO NINI AS I PROMISED ! Some asks regarding Zaki's lore ^^

Ok, so— How does he act before and after God's disappearance? + how does he cope w it?

Anyway have a great day/night :]

Hey hey! Thanks for asking ^^ I’m happy you are interested

1. He thought he was made to step into god’s footsteps, and he wanted to be closer to god (like everyone else) which is why he took a ton of notes about god and lucifer, like a crazy stalker. About their every move, habit, likes and dislikes. Not because it necessarily interests him a lot, but because then he can mimic them better.

In contrary to the other angels, who didn’t like Solomon, zaki found it rather intriguing. Because up until then god didn’t show any interests in anyone, at least not like how he does with Solomon. Even the first creation of god, lucifer, didn’t get the same attention as Solomon did. So, naturally, he had an entire notebook full of details about that man.

Solomon was god’s favourite, it was a well known fact. He accepted it, and did something different than the other angels. He started copying solomons cheerful, charming attitude. The gentle smile he wears whenever he talks with someone and the never ending patience he shows everyone. Zaki is only an angel after all, trying to appeal to god.

2. After god disappeared he had his first identity crisis. First he tried to kind of ‘take his place’ or be the ‘acting god’. He thought god created him to prepare for his disappearance. Since that was his believe, he has now fully submerged his true self and became a mix between all the notes he has taken. The cheerful attitude of Solomon, the serious way of dealing with things from lucifer, and the readiness to love and help everyone from his dear lord. It was exhausting, acting all the time, but he didn’t notice that it was exhausting.

Everything crashed down when he had a conversation with another angel, and they asked him what his favourite dish was. All he could think about was, ‘what is god’s favourite dish?’. He didn’t have an opinion of his own, and the realisation suddenly hit him. Because he didn’t know what god’s favourite food was, he couldn’t answer the question.

From then on he worked on his persona, and it became more and more difficult to distinguish which part of it was him, which part was someone else. But whenever he gets anxious or overwhelmed, his true self slips out, and his first thought is to run away so that no one sees him like that.

3. How he copes with it, well, he tries his best to replicate everything god loved and what makes god ‘god’. That’s why he is very confusing sometimes, smiling with the more cheerful smile ever, as if he was made from the rays of sun hitting the ocean while torturing devils. He knew that whether god, luci nor Solomon ever killed anyone for fun, which is why he tries to refrain from hurting anyone too. He likes to call killing them ‘showing mercy’, and that he doesn’t do it for fun, but because it’s his job (delulu)

Have a nice day too my dear <3