#obviously the second part is a bit but like. it's always a bit. this is the 'interpreting bits genuinely' factory

[soo-won]

About the shoulder wound parallel I have so many thoughts about it but to reach the suwon/zeno part of it I first need to make it about Suwon and Hak I swear it makes sense stay with me. I've been obsessing over Suwon's shoulder wound ever since ch249 and I think it can be symbolically connected to the wound Hak caused in chapter 2, which is the Suwon I drew here. Like, the thing is, Kusanagi gave Suwon a wound in chapter 249 on the same shoulder as at the start of the story, a few chapters before giving Zeno another wound on the opposite shoulder and said wound became plot relevant in a chapter that makes direct parallel between Suwon and Zeno in ch256... So much to unpack here, right? Maybe it's all coincidence, but even if so it's fun to think about it so here I am!!

So first, Suwon's shoulder and the development of his relationship with Hak. It's always hard to tell if Kusanagi completely forgot about Hak slashing Suwon's right shoulder in chapter 2 since it's never mentioned again and we never know if Suwon even has any scar left of it, but, Suwon's right shoulder comes into play a few times later in the story sooo...it could be... In chapter 259 when Zeno fights against Hak and Yona, Hak tells him that he would never use his weapon against him. In a set up that is very similar to the night of the coup (with this time Yona protecting Hak against the Betrayer(tm)), to me it resonates strongly with Hak's actions that night. Unlike back then with Suwon, Hak refuses to use his weapon against a friend, even if said friend betrayed him, is threatening them and hurt people he cares for. Hak refuses to treat Zeno as his enemy like he did with Suwon then. (The circumstances are a bit different of course, but this scene makes me think Kusanagi does remember well how things happened that night, and Hak hurting Suwon.) This obviously surprises and moves Zeno.

I don't really want to interpret Hak's thoughts and feelings here. It could be interpreted as him regretting doing things this way with Suwon before, or it could not... But the thing is, he is doing things differently. To be fair in chapter 2 Hak could only do what he could in an high risk and unexpected situation to avoid Yona being killed and then to escape together. But when facing a similar situation again he now has the conviction he wants to do things differently and that's the meaningful part that feels important to me here.

And that new conviction was already already seen with Suwon before.

Hak giving Suwon the senjusou in chapter 224 is already a parallel to many other Suwon/Hak scenes before, and I want to argue it's also a parallel to chapter 2. On the same shoulder Hak afflicted a wound in the past, he now rests and falls asleep in his act of trying to save Suwon and heal him. Like with Zeno, he's not treating Suwon as an enemy here, but like an old friend he wants to help. Suwon, the one person Hak has always be in extreme alert around since the coup, becomes a person Hak lets himself be vulnerable with and finally rests on. Actually, the parallel with chapter 2 hits even more when you realize that chapter 224 is the very first time Suwon and Hak have a physical contact ever since...chapter 2 and their swordfight.

On top of that, we know that Suwon remembers the very feeling of Hak on his shoulder so much he gets lost in thoughts about it before Minsu bursts his bubble in ch225. As Suwon also thinks to himself, "at that moment, I forgot the pain". A feeling so intense he feels no pain at all for a second, in contrast to an act that physically hurt him in chapter 2...I could go on like that for hours. In a way, Hak becomes a bandage on Suwon's symbolic scar. Suwon still carries the pain of discarding Yona and Hak for his goal, convinced he doesn't need nor deserve their help and support, yet longing for their presence by his side, and then here is Hak and he can feel his warmth. Also making a parallel between his freezing hands a few chapter earlier and the comforting warmth he feels from Hak. It's healing, as much if not more than the senjusou itself.

Suwon until now was in a way indulging in the pain of Hak hating him and trying to kill him, of Yona killing him one of these days. It's easy, it's to be expected, it's what he thinks he deserves, it's fate in a way. It hurts but he will accept it and endure, like his illness. Yet Yona and Hak actually both resisted against this fate and went against the tides.

So the events of this arc were totally unexpected for Suwon. It started to make him rely on them more, but it sadly didn't change Suwon's convinction that this is "not even", that he still deserves a punishment and to be in pain. Chapter 249 in many ways is when everything the characters tried to maintain until now breaks apart. Shinah losing against his powers, the ropes to tie him down tearing apart, the alliance between yona and suwon's sides seeming to break apart too... They couldn't hold it together against fate and the gods, even after getting over everything together as humans until now.

But as Suwon says himself in chapter 262 about his wound, it wasn't so much Shinah or the gods then but him. He offered himself up to Shinah. As if to erase the comfort of Hak on his shoulder, it's now replaced by a new wound on that very same shoulder. It's his punishment. He believes he doesn't deserve the former. He has to pay a price for Yona and Hak helping him despite betraying them, and using them for his goals even now, and he ends up finding that solace in the Heavens' intervention. They validate Suwon's most self destructive thoughts. These ideologies go hand in hand.

That Hak in chapter 262 questions Suwon about his wound, that Suwon tries to brush it off and endure the pain like he always does, and that Hak insists and makes him ask for help himself is extremely moving because of all of this of course. Suwon was the receiver until now. He received his wound by Hak, then he received the senjusou by Hak too, and Hak's warmth and protection. Then he received Shinah's attack, and he received Minsu and Yun's treatment etc... Suwon stays passive and in the expectation when it comes to his own body. Suwon doesn't hurt himself directly, he lets others do it for him. His own self guilt is a reality in many people around him. He's the object of most people's gaze, we see him a lot of time through how others view him and what they think of him. To Suwon, Shinah's furious gaze at him in the castle and then in ch249 are the symbol of this. So when he couldn't find and get this retribution from Hak or Yona directly anymore, here was Shinah in his monstrous dragon form. (Suwon not moving in ch249 is very similar to Suwon not moving in front of Hak in ch91 too).

This is where I finally arrive to Zeno. Zeno in opposition to Suwon very much hurts himself directly, he's the main perpretator of his own injuries. That's exactly why the idea that to be killed he has to be the receiver and have Yona do it for him is torture, I think. To me, this is the horror of his realization when he looks at his shoulder wound in chapter 256.

Even after coming to the realization that only Yona can kill him, he still says nothing to her and tries to make her kill him by his own hands. The cruel thing in the situation with Zeno is him realizing how little agency he has, even less than the little he thought he could possibly get. The way he interpreted the prophecy, made a plan on his own without telling his friends and causing the end of the dragons himself...it's all part of Zeno trying to have any sort of agency. But he doesn't. It's all the gods and Yona in this case.

Again it's ironic. Zeno who wants to die more than anyone else has to force it again and again for it to happen, whereas Suwon has it coming for him from every direction. Yet, neither are dying in the end. All they have is that open scar on their shoulder.

To be honest, I'm still not sure what it could symbolize for Zeno as Yona inflicted it to him on accident. But just like Suwon, it's an open wound. And just like Suwon, Zeno lives with the idea of "even" exchange. After all, his power activates only if he gets hurt. Unlike Yona who learns to protect others together while protecting and defending herself too, Zeno keeps hurting himself to protect others without hesitation. He and Yona share the same desperation over their powerlessness to protect the people suffering around them, but act on it differently. Zeno's power encourages him to do so, it ingrained in him that he should and has to suffer to use a power that shouldn't exist in the human world. Unlike Suwon who first acts in a certain way and then wait for the payback(retribution), Zeno gets hurt first then waits for the payback(sacrifice). I think that's why Zeno's shoulder wound actually come before his real betrayal to Yona, it works in a different logic than Suwon's. Being hurt by Yona isn't a consequence of betraying her, it's a condition.

And it fits very well with how Zeno did things to try to die: He made a sacrifice with the dragon warriors and then waited for the Gods to pay him back after he completed their supposed requirements. He naturally did things just like when he wants to use his power. First hurt yourself, sacrifice something, and then the Gods should give you what you want.

From experience he thought he had control here. He's used to it after all. But he soon had had to realize that he actually has no agency over this system at all and is not in a so much different position than the other dragon warriors. Neither in relation to his power nor the conditions for him to die.

Zeno ended up thinking that he deserved to be hurt as condition for his powers, just like the dragons can only get short lifespan for theirs, erasing in a way how none of them ever decided for things to function this way. He rationalized it when the truth is there is nothing rational about the God's rules and how they make decisions. The fact he gets so frustrated when the DDHHB stops him from hurting himself shows this well. He normalized it. The truth is the dragon warriors were always only exploited. He didn't actually want to hurt the dragons or to ask Yona to kill him, but he accepted and normalized that it was the only way for him to achieve his goal, even though it's this whole system that needs to change. Against this cruel reality, Zeno can only make himself numb to the pain and convince himself he's okay with all of this. That it's all logical and set in stones. That it's fate. Ah- just like Suwon.

I went a bit on a tangent and we're not talking much about the shoulder wounds themselves anymore, but as for everything with Suwon and Zeno, their differences are always two sides of the same coin that join together, if that makes sense. In the end, I see these mirroring wounds as the symbol of how they're objectified by the Heavens and how it's ingrained in them, literally on their body. Their bodies receive the mark of trying to get something themselves inside this system ruled by the Gods and the Heavens, this determination also symbolized by Yuhon and Hiryuu's swords.

For Suwon, it's the belief that if he makes the decision to judge others and hurt them for his goals, it's only logical and fair he will be judged in return, and that it's fine this way. If that's how things work and that's the system, he won't change it, he will just pragmatically exploit it to the best of its capacities and then accept the consequences too. Once he takes a place in it and holds the reins as a King, he believes that's just how things should be. He can't conceive there is value in fighting against it and trying to change it. And he loses all reason to do so once he kills Il and discards Yona and Hak. It's too late after all, he accepted to corrupt himself in this machine to get what he wishes for. That's his illusion of control. Suwon is responsible for his own choices, beliefs and actions, and he's extremely self aware of the consequences of his own choices: he will be judged, hated, attacked and killed someday in return gods or not.

But even if he chooses this path full aware, is that really empowering? Is accepting and letting it happen really give him control when deep down what he wants is to live and to not discard the people that he hurts? Suwon thinks that's just how it is, but who truly decided that and why can't it be changed? Is it really himself, or was it heavely influenced by his environment and the people around him?

I don't mean to say that Suwon is not responsible for anything because We Live In A Society(tm), though. That'd be even more disempowering than it is. Suwon's choices were undeniably influenced by his environment and the people around him but that's how it is for everyone, and I wouldn't want Suwon to regret what he did. That's his life, and he still accomplished and experienced many good things and they're all meaningful and his too. That's why I find this very good that he says he doesn't regret killing Il because that's something he chooses. It's not so black and white. What is harmful though, is the resignation in repeating this pattern despite how it hurts him, the idea that things are fine like this if he's hurt and punished in the end. That he's never allowed to be healed and loved and happy and refusing it when he gets anything good. How that doesn't leave any room for reparation, change and hope.

And painfully, both Suwon and Zeno were progressively forced to accept how little agency and choice they truly have and to adapt, submit, to the system of the Heavens despite taking a strong stance against them. In a way, in their very declaration of rebellion against the Heavens, they were already influenced by them, as it still exists, and they position themselves in relation to them. By trying to take back control and agency from the gods (which is more than fair like, they deserve this agency!) they still mold themselves in the gears of this system, they don't truly change it, they negociate with it. Suwon by leaving it alone in the hopes of it leaving him alone too, and Zeno by walking alongside it.

Whether it's Suwon carrying on Yuhon's sword and his legacy and striking down others for his goals even if he will never be allowed to live happily in consequence, or whether it's Zeno taking Hiryuu's sword to kill himself after bringing an end to the other dragons too, it's the same. It's still taking and being taken from. Giving and being given back. It dooms them, it's self-fulfilling prophecies.

That's why even after Suwon was forced to acknowledge that the Gods have more influence than he thought and he was saved by the dragon warriors and Yona, it still very compatible with his way of thinking and the path he always followed. Even if Yona and Hak won't punish him directly anymore, ch249 with Shinah attacking him shows that the Gods will. Even without it, Suwon was still resolved to return to war and die for it. Whether it's from Yuhon, from Il, or from the Gods it's not so different in the end. Like this, the Gods validates and reaffirms the very ideology personified by Yuhon that Yona and Hak were resisting against when they tried to help and save Suwon.

For Suwon and Zeno, resisting against the Gods is still equal with accepting using a weapon that gives them a similar form of power attached to a legacy. And even if they're different, they're bound by their laws and ideologies the same.

Zeno's case is still a bit unique because he started from a very different place. His journey started with him accepting the yellow dragon's blood and powers. Even if he was later ready to go against the Gods to have his wish realized, he was still very aware of the reality of their existence and power, and how they bind him and every dragon warrior. Because of this, Zeno always tried to still get some agency. His whole quest to find a way to die is a quest to cling to humanity and free will, to be more than an empty husk living forever, not caring about anyone or anything. Yet little by little, without him realizing, they still made him compromise more and more. When he tried to assemble the dragon warriors before Hiryuu was reborn, he had to face the truth that it cannot happen without Hiryuu. He had to wait for Yona. As Zeno says in chapter 208, even with eternal time it doesn't mean it makes things happen like he thinks at all, but by accepting passively all of it and going with the tides, he waits for the one chance he can finally act and end it all for good. But even then, when he made a whole plan around it to end things himself, without Hiryuu/Yona again, it failed. Because it has to be Yona. She is the one with the authority needed.

In a way, at the point Suwon and Zeno accept/try to die, it was maybe also them trying to bring an end themselves to these cycles of taking and giving and how it burdened Yona. After all, if Suwon dies not by Yona's hand, then there's nothing Yona will have to take from him directly and she will be innocent, there is no revenge anymore, Suwon will die from an "unrelated" cause and things will be "even". Suwon seems to feel guilt over "pushing" Yona to her limits and hurting her by her being forced to support him. Whether this is also influenced by the time Il told him he's unpleasant and Suwon fearing this might be true for Yona too, in the south kai arc this was definitely his vision of it. So when Yona is conflicted between her promise to Suwon and saving her friends in ch242, Suwon "frees" her from it and gives her the chance to leave and to never return again. He pushes her away, not burdening her with his own situation anymore. If she doesn't plan to return he will even give up on making her his successor. Again, he unconsciously repeats the same pattern of not involving Yona at all, separating her from the rest.

Zeno always felt like the dragon warriors were a burden to Hiryuu, a symbol of the Gods' overwhelming love to him, giving Hiryuu too much and pushing him to give back. If he dies, this will put an end to this as well. They saw their death as the ultimate solution, their life having become an uneedeed burden and source of potential conflict. But by trying to do so they both stripped Yona of what she really wants. I would say the conflict between them and her in this arc is exactly this tension between first trying to get Yona uninvolved and ending things themselves in their latest and most tragic attempt to have one crumb of agency against the Heavens and their obsessive love for Hiryuu, and then how this has repercussions on the human Yona in how that strips /her/ of her agency. Again, Yona is fatally a victim of the consequences of a battle that shouldn't involve her, yet very much does.

Despite this attempt and all their resistance against it, Suwon and Zeno are both made to depend on Yona/Hiryuu for their most important wish. These things were also due to their very human and personal relationships with Yona, and them feeling like they can trust and rely on her more should be a positive thing to be happy about, but it tragically aligns with the Heavens' agenda, so something about it feels fundamentally wrong. After all, Suwon is made to rely on Yona this way because of how the Crimson illness weakens him, and Zeno because that's his only hope to die. This is the tragedy of Yona's fate: everything was moving forward because of her growth and positive accomplishments as Yona and her efforts to gain her own agency, but her position and the authority she always owned as Hiryuu validated even more so all the Heavens' harmful ideology. Her will and actions can't be dissociated from the higher narrative with the prophecy and the Heavens. This against shows how the conflict between her identity as Yona and Hiryuu is the source of all the tensions in this arc and the core of the entire story.

Yona always wanted more power and agency, but here it disgusts her. She doesn't want to have to kill Zeno. She doesn't want Suwon to die and to have all his responsibilities as ruler be pushed on her. She doesn't want to stain her hands herself with those maybe, but I think it upsets her also because it is against the very things she was trying to achieve for both of them so far. Her promise to Suwon was to support him until the end of the war and then they would both go back to their separate life; her goal was to get all the four dragons back and then they'll be forever together, not this either. Suwon was the one person she wanted to regain a sense of agency with, yet in consequence it's stripped away from her again because his upcoming death doesn't leave him a better choice but to make her his successor; Zeno is the person Yona wants to help regain agency and justice on his own fate, yet is made to have the authority over Zeno's entire existence however she likes. Her and Hak were trying to break these cycles of even exchange but it is maintained with a firm grip by the Heavens, and it's then all placed on Yona.

But Yona never asked for all these irrational things. These developments are what progressively made her face that there is something insidious, deeper, that needs to be changed, triggering her decision to enter the chalice and face the Gods in chapter 261. Chapter 258 also suggests that Yona wants Suwon to still be there and she makes sure Hyoori is still here for this sake. I don't know what she thinks about the Suwon situation since the illness matter is not a thing for now, but at least it makes her stance clear : she is against this fate with both of them gone and against them leaving her behind without letting her have a say in any of this.

I deviated a bit from the wounds and swords topic again, but they're all things connected to Yona too after all. They exist in relation to Yona/Hiryuu. Suwon was hurt for being an "enemy" who hurt Yona first and Zeno can only be killed by her. After all this, Yona, Hak, Suwon and Zeno all had to let go of their weapons. Yona threw Hiryuu's sword away when the Gods imposed it to her to kill Zeno in chapter 264, Hak refuses to use a weapon on Zeno like he did on Suwon when he caused his shoulder wound in chapter 2, Suwon leaves Yuhon's sword in chapter 262 as a symbol of him leaving this legacy behind to try another, different path for the very first time. But what of Hiryuu's sword now?

I wrote 90% of this before chapter 269, so the truth is now I have even more things to add because of it, except this post is already so long I'm embarassed. Maybe someday I'll add a part with developments of chapter 269. That being said what I mean with all that (that I'm afraid makes no sense and it's totally disorganized), is that their wounds and stories are connected in how whether they're related to Yona personally or her as Hiryuu, it's intertwined and the result of the same harmful ideology based on punishment and sacrifice. However, there is hope. Because Yona and Hak learned and then kept resisting against those things. They're still all struggling against the authority of the Heavens right now and there are still the issues surrounding Yona/Hiryuu's identity, but with their efforts they at least prevented these wounds from being a symbol of Suwon and Zeno's capital punishment and now they're still living to face the Gods another way. Suwon is still ill and Zeno is still immortal, but they're going beyond already, they're not submitting to legacies harming them anymore. All these parallels have an infinity of layers to them and they add so much to the story right now, but I think were truly all for what is happening now, and far more than simply being cool parallels for the sake of it. They have meaning.

Also I'm not sure if writing this under my own fanart is a good move, I feel a bit selfconscious so just to make it clear I very honestly didn't think about all that at all when I drew it. I went with the vibes and it's only afterwards that I started to try to organize my thoughts so hmm...please keep enjoying the fanart as it is :)

The price for our ambitions

[lcatala]

Inspired by this post by @thanergetic-hyperlinks, I present to you

Tessellations of the Nine Houses

(Or "I can't really draw figurative art so my Locked Tomb fanarts are geometrical vector drawings")

"A tessellation or tiling is the covering of a surface, often a plane, using one or more geometric shapes, called tiles, with no overlaps and no gaps." — Wikipedia.

Making tilings themed after each necromantic House seems obvious: for each House you pick a tile with the same number of sides as the number of the House; but this does present some challenges for some of the Houses.

note 1: this might give the impression that I first decided on the symbols and then found patterns to match them in a very organized and motivated manner; in practice it was much more chaotic and multidirectional, the patterns informing the symbols as much as the symbols informed the patterns; this is fine since symbolism is entirely associative and arbitrary anyway

note 2: I added alt-texts for all the images, but I have no idea of how to properly describe abstract geometric art; if you feel you can do a better job than I did, feel free to put your fingers where your mouth is--wait, hang on-- I mean feel free to provide better descriptions if you can

note 3: looking forward to the geometry nerds explaining to me how I got basic geometric details wrong, friggin nerds

The First House

The First House seems obvious, as a shape with one side is an ellipse (of which the circle is a special case). There's just one problem: ellipses do not tile the plane. No matter how much you stretch them and deform them, the very nature of ellipses means you'll always have gaps or overlaps.

So we cheat and we work with overlaps: turns out there is a history of tiling that use circles as a construction pattern, then turning the overlapping sections into the actual tiles. Such patterns have been used extensively in European and Middle Eastern art, and have also been associated with the New Age movement, so it fits Jod's style perfectly. And so we get this:

The different cells correspond to different House colors, with the resulting gothic stained-glass appearance quite in line with the Roman Catholic Empire vibe Jod is going for. The overlapping circles convey the intricacy of the relation between the first House and the nine other, both autonomous from it yet intrinsically part of it.

The Second House

There's a variety of geometrical shapes that have two sides, but most of them don't tile the plane, altho there is one that does — if we take a crescent shape and slightly thicken it so that the inner and outer curves are identical, we can do this:

The waving pattern is of course evocative of the flag of conquest which the Cohorts of the Second House have planted on many worlds.

The Third House

With the Third House things get a lot easier, because equilateral triangles are one of the three regular polygons (where all sides are the same length and all angles are identical) that tile the plane all by themselves without needing any other shape! Which however doesn't mean we have to be boring, we can have a little bit of fun:

Flowers for the beauty and ionizing radiation warning signs for the rancid vibes.

The Fourth House

Squares are the second regular polygons that tile the plane by themselves, so again our job is easy here, altho we still want to not go for the easiest option in order to be able to work in some symbolism:

The four big navy squares with a small white square at the center of course evoke the number five and the shadow of the Fifth House's regency over the Fourth.

The Fifth House

Regular pentagons do not tile the plane, so we have to use a more unusual shape — there are many options, but obviously we want to again pick one that offers some interesting numerical symbolism:

The cross-like patterns of course bring up the number four and the hold of the Fifth House over the Fourth. As for the crosses themselves and the fact that they appear to be made of wooden stakes, well uh… Abigail Pent, Vampire Hunter??? She does have Van Helsing vibes.

The Sixth House

Hexagons are the third and last regular polygons that tile the plane on their own. But this is the Sixth House we're talking about, things need to look orderly but in a convoluted way. So how about multiple levels of recursion:

The apparent complexity of the pattern is created by different orientations of a small number of elements, either 3 irregular hexagons, or 1 patterned regular hexagonal tile, depending on how you look at it, in line with the kind of hermetic scientism one imagines the Sixth House indulges in. The result is those apparent three-dimensional elements and emerging higher-order patterns, including that of ꙮ, the Multiocular O found in exactly one word of one 15th century Old Church Slavonic translation of the Book of Psalms ("серафими многоꙮчитїй" many-eyed seraphim).

The Seventh House

Regular heptagons do not tile the plane, but they don't need much tweaking to work, which is fine since for the Seventh House we want something deceptive yet simple (deceptively simple? deceptive in its simplicity?):

Hearts for the beauty, snake scales for the poison [the Seventh House is on Venus, the planet named after the Roman Goddess of love, but etymologically "Venus" is actually the same root as "venom", and of course "Septimus" resembles "septic" — tho in that case there's no etymological connection, it's just a happy coincidence].

The Eighth House

Octagons do not tile the plane, but they come pretty close, so we can give the Eighth House a simple, stern, but slightly threatening pattern:

Boring sterile bleached temple mosaic, with just a little bit of passive-agression, a perfect fit for Evangelical Christians Tumblr puritans the Eighth House.

The Ninth House

And so we reach the Ninth House. Now the thing about the Ninth House is that, even by imperial standards, they're huge freaks, like they're completely unhinged heretical weirdoes. So ,when it comes to their tiling, we need to get weird, like, a lot weirder than we've been so far, and this will require some context so get ready because now we're officially going on a wild tangent.

So far all the tilings we've seen were periodic. That is, they were drawing a pattern that repeats itself indefinitely in all direction.

But starting in the 60s, mathematicians began to study aperiodic tilings, tilings that don't repeat; you can keep expanding them forever and never exactly find back the original pattern you started with. The first mathematical proof of such a pattern was made in 1964 and theoretically required 20,426 distinct tile prototypes… This was soon refined to just 104 tile prototypes, then a mere 40. By 1971, it was mathematically demonstrated that you could make such a pattern with just 6 tile prototypes.

Except that was a lie.

Note that I said mathematically demonstrated. As it turns out there was an aperiodic pattern with just 5 tile prototypes, known as Girih, that had been used in Islamic art… since at least the 13th century — but it had historically been treated merely as an element of architectural design, and its mathematical properties weren't studied until 2007.

Then in 1973 this guy Penrose came along and demonstrated you could make an aperiodic tiling with just 2 tile prototypes. So now the goal was to find the ultimate aperiodic tiling, the one that would use only one tile prototype. Given how fast the field had progressed so far, it seemed that this discovery was imminent.

It took 50 years.

Not only that, but it was the work of amateur mathematician David Smith who accidentally discovered a 13-sided polygon hat could make an aperiodic tiling all by itself (he then had his discovery checked by and co-authored a paper with a number of professional mathematicians).

EXCEPT THAT WAS A LIE AGAIN.

In turns out an aperiodic tiling using only one tile prototype had already been found… in 1936. But since the study of aperiodic tilings only started in the 60s, its significance in that domain wasn't understood at the time. It was seen as significant, but for an entirely unrelated reason: it was the first demonstration of a polygonal shape that needed only two copies of itself to completely enclose the original one — many mathematicians before that point thought the minimum possible was 3 (think of the Triforce from Zelda, with one equilateral triangle completely enclosed between three other identical triangles).

And coincidently, that shape happens to be a highly-irregular nonagon [yes "enneagon" is """technically""" more correct but "nonagon" has been used since the 17th century and is more common and it has Nona in it and Nona loves you]. So here it is, the Voderberg tiling, the freakish freakish tessellation of the Ninth House:

Like you see this and you're like "what is this, what is that thing, that's not a tiling, what the fuck is that" — but it is, it is a tiling, you can keep adding the freaky polygon and it keeps expanding outward forever, with no gap, no overlap, and with an ever-changing pattern. A double-spiral radiating outward, for Anastasia and Samael, Anastasia and Alecto, Alecto and Harrowhark, Harrowhark and Gideon.

And if you were thinking that this last one must have been significantly harder to draw than the other ones, you would be correct.

[planet-rogers]

taylor swift wrote coney island ft. the national about steve rogers and bucky barnes. in this essay I will...

due to popular demand (i haven't even posted it yet) here is the essay:

"in for the long haul" is literally just a way of saying. like. 'until the end of the line.'

to me this means, 'you said until the end of the line (meaning, loosely, til death do us part), we aren't dead yet, so why are you leaving?'. this would refer to Steve leaving in endgame.

this lyric strikes me as a huge indicator of it being about stucky.

mainly because the place that makes up the title of the song (Coney Island) and the message of the song (reminiscing about past, untouchable, long-gone memories of going to the arcade or the fair) are both literally stucky canon. I don't know who Taylor could be writing about as although she could have obviously gone to Coney Island previously, or simply gone to brood alone, or even just used the fair as a metaphor for good times, it is SO SPECIFIC.

in my opinion, too specific not to be tailor-made (haha see what I did there) for captain america and the winter soldier

speaking of the winter soldier.....

the main themes in stucky's narrative, romantic or not, are loyalty, hope, and most commonly seen throughout their arcs, loss. both of them at some point in the narrative lose each other— the first not even being Bucky falling from the train, or even his first HYDRA kidnapping, but when he went to the frontlines and left Steve in Brooklyn. they've lost each other so many times that when Steve finally chooses to leave at the end of it all, it feels almost like they should've expected it. or, "over and over, lost again with no surprises."

(more of the times losing each other include: Bucky losing the smaller Steve after the serum, Steve losing 40s Bucky to HYDRA twice, Bucky losing and regaining Steve over and over and over again in his jumbled and erased memories, Steve losing Bucky in the blip, and finally, Bucky losing Steve to his past)

this stanza so perfectly represents that and might also be a nod to 'winter' as a season with a "colder and colder" OR a nod to Steve's time in the ice. maybe both!

this bit in the song, I've noticed, is partly sung first by the National, then by Taylor. I found this really interesting because to me the lyrics could be about either Bucky or Steve.

about Bucky: a lifetime of achievement being his life up until his 20s, arguably not a lot of time, but certainly enough to feel solidified in parts of your identity as someone who takes care of Steve Rogers. it then changes drastically to when years have passed and he's still in his 20s, except now he's worried that Steve has always wanted to abandon Post-Hydra Bucky but stayed out of obligation.

about Steve: a lifetime of achievement as 'not a perfect soldier, but a good man.' and 'I can do this all day' and even 'each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best man's gun'. you get the gist. but the second lyric being about Pre-Serum Steve and how Bucky shouldn't have stuck around for him.

they make me real sad guys.

THESE. FUCKING. LYRICS.

I'm sorry, paradise being a future where Bucky is forgiven, with his best friend, with Wakanda. "will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?' TOO OLD TO CARE????? TOOOOO OLDDDDD TO CAREEEEEE? I wonder who THAT could be about. yeah. #notmysteverogers

this part is also very similar to the stanza that mentions coney island— all these things are extremely situation-specific to stucky yet in an outside context still sounds vague enough to be Taylor's own experiences.

"we were like the mall before the internet" because they're old

"the mischief, the gift wrapped suburban dreams" because they're from the forties

"sorry for not winning you an arcade ring" because they were childhood best friends

AND NOW. THE BRIDGE.

this to me is SO Bucky talking to Steve after decoding the Winter Soldier— wondering just how long Steve has been without him. a universe away???? your bluest skies the darkest grey????????? guys. guys can you hear me.

okay. FINALLY. THIS LINE. THIS LINE RIGHT HERE.

I'm not crazy, right? Taylor Swift when I GET YOU what does when I got into the accident even mean. when. I. got. into. the. accident. the same one that gave you 20 stitches in a hospital room? or the one that got you that shiny metal arm. please answer quick.

I rest my case.

thank you for reading, if you've come this far I apologise.

[xoxo-stellea]

ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏʀᴋ

Warnings: drug and alcohol consumption, suggestive language and behavior, mention of suicidal thoughts (jokes), suggestive clothing

The second part of my Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader series

Pinterest board inspired by this series

Your back hits the soft mattress and just a second later Chris was on top of you, straddling your hips with his.

He peels off his white shirt and lets it fall to the floor without a second thought. His eyes darken as he leans over you again, fingers grazing the hem of your dress.

It’s already hiked up a bit, but he takes his time, slowly sliding it over your head, revealing your black lace bra and thong, a sight that makes his breath hitch.

Chris tilts your head gently to the side, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips find the sensitive curve of your neck. He kisses you slowly there, with just enough pressure to make your breath catch, his mouth warm and teasing against your skin.

A soft gasp escapes you as his teeth graze just beneath your jaw. Your eyes flutter open, dazed, and drift toward the large window beside the bed. The city stretches out before you- New York glowing in the night like a sea of stars, skyscrapers lit up against the dark sky.

For a moment, it feels surreal- being here, tangled up with him, the world outside so vast and alive, while everything in this room feels impossibly intimate and still.

And what feels like a second later you and him lay in your bed breathing heavy and intense. All of it feels more like a dream then reality. He turns his head to look at you.

“We should not make this awkward. Pretty sure we’ve got a PR shoot together tomorrow.”

“Yeah? Sounds like a you problem.”

“Damn, alright. So you’re just gonna pretend this didn’t happen?”

“Obviously. I’m great at acting. Don’t start catching feelings and making shit weird. And besides we don’t even know each other so don’t even start about thinking that this is gonna end as some kinda shitty romance”

“Wow. Cold as fuck.”

“Don’t get soft now. You knew what this was.”

“Yeah? I did? Like you said we don’t even know each other so I did not know what I was getting into.”

He smirks provocatively.

„Stop that bitch shit and keep your shit together tomorrow and don’t look at me like a lost puppy.”

“You’re brutal.”

“And you’re kinda slow. Step it up, babe.”

“You always this bitchy?”

“Only when someone needs to be put in their place.”

“Oh, I can handle you.”

“That’s cute. Now shut the fuck up and get your ass out of my room.”

He smirks one more time before getting out of the bed and picking up his clothes and putting them on, well at least some of them. All while yo sit in bed and grin.

Right as he leaves the room Tara barges through the door basically slamming it into his face.

„Oh shittt-“

She giggles, obviously a little drunk watching him push past her trying not to look at her while also trying not to walk right into her.

As you see her walking in you quickly cover yourself up with a blanket.

„Tara could you-“

You say while giggling but also trying to shield yourself from her gaze. She sits down on her bed and turns away so you can at least put your shirt back on.

After that being done you sigh and lean against the headboard and throw your head back. After a second you slowly turn your head to face her.

She looks backs at you and raises an eyebrow.

„So…? How was he?“

She grins while asking.

You press your lips together trying not to smirk too much.

„How do I say that… like he was umm you know- big“

She bursts out laughing while taking off some of her left over accessorys. She fights with one of her earrings as she says;

„Girl give me a strap and I can give you that too. I wanna know what he’s good at“

You try to suppress the girl that starts to form on your face as she says that.

„I know you could give me that too but I mean he hand a good finger technique“

You give her a half jokingly and half serious approving look before getting up and into the bathroom and taking your make up off.

As you look into the mirror you can see your smeared mascara and lipstick that’s all over your face. And after inspecting yourself a little more you find some hickeys on your neck and collar bone.

„Ohhh he had a good finger technique“

Tara exclaims while still giggling.

After taking off even the last bit of make up you go back to you bed and lay down looking at Tara doing the same.

„Good night“

You say before turning away from her closing your eyes.

„Good night“

She turns off the light and lays down too and waits a few minutes before speaking up again.

„Hope you used a condom who knows where that dick has been“

„TARA“

You turn only your head around to look at her but after seeing the stupid grin on her face you turn around again.

„We didn’t tho-“

You confess.

„Hope you didn’t got an std from his pretty face“

„Sleep Girl please“

You close your eyes as she finally shuts up and after a few minutes of thinking about what just happened you fall asleep, tired from…everything.

It’s the next morning and your eyes flutter open as you head the sound of Tara humming some fuck ass melody.

You look to your right side onto the alarm clock.

8 a.m

„Fuckkkk my head-“

You groan as the headache starts to hit.

„Oh good morning beautiful princess“

Tara says, turning her head towards you as she applies some concealer under her eyes to conver up some of her dark circles.

„Breakfast is starts in less then half an hour why the fuck didn’t you wake me up“

You ask her while getting up and pacing around the room trying to find some clothes. Finally you take a grey hoodie and some grey sweatpants and putting both of these things on.

…

About half an hour later you and Tara sit down at a table where Jake and Johnnie already sit and eat.

„Oh look who finally made it“

Jake says, raising his brows in exaggerated surprise.

„We had to get ready okay, not my fault that Miss ‘he got a good finger technique can’t hurry the fuck up“

„Oh he has a good finger technique?“

Jake asks while grinning and shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth.

„Get that rope ready you fucking dumbass“

You say while trying to hide the grin on your face by covering your face as good as possible with your hands. After taking a deep breath and looking at Tara you finally speak up again.

„Yeah maybe he has a good technique I’m certainly sure none of you bitches got that“

Your words earn you a few shut ups but after a few minutes the conversation shifts to what happened at the club yesterday after you left.

Just as Johnnie is telling you that he met some chick named Grace yesterday your attention shits somewhere else…, on the table across the room from yours.

And as Johnnie’s voice fades into the background you lock eyes with Chris.

He locks his eyes onto yours with a gaze so intense it steals the air from your lungs, and when he blinks- slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment.

It sends a shiver down your spine, making you feel like you’re the only thing in the world he’s focused on.

It feels like 20 minutes had passed but in reality it was just about a second before you felt Tara’s shoe against your leg as she kicked you.

„Girl are you trying to undress him with your eyes? Cus if so make I’d try to make it a little less obvious“

She says in a sharp but entertained tone.

„So we got this foto shoot today and we gotta go ready and prepare and get to the location“

Jake says after a few minutes of silence.

„Yeah umm so we thought that maybe we four could drive together cus I mean idk why not“

Johnnie adds.

„Yeah that’s cool we don’t need long just an hour or so then we’ll meet you guys at the lobby“

You say before getting up and walking upstairs to your room with Tara…

A/N// guysss the end is a bit rushed but school starts tomorrow so idk when I’ll be posting again but I’ll try my best to be active x ☘︎

@mattybernard @toffeesfingerrr @acvpoftae @bookieluvss12 @ilovethetripletsandmw @cowgirl123451-blog @namelesssav @fadingdonutfire @mattyummyy @ggraycelynn @thesecretofceleste @jinellerivera20 @loveexxx @le4hsblog @dezyissmart @sturniolo-szn2 @lovetoread2-blog @jacsismattswife @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @kalel2005 @loveexxx @oh-icantgetaway

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

Hello,,, pretty please discuss renskizz at me as I've never heard of these two paired before today,,,, I'm so curious

HI absolutely can do. and i'm gonna come in with CITATIONS on the quotes in this one because i have a normal amount of emotions about these two.

so, first of all, the reason you've never heard about renskizz is because 1. not enough people are skizzleman fans and 2. their best season is third life, which is also the season where the insanity going on between ren and martyn gets the most attention from the average viewer (and from ren)

this is not an entirely one sided dynamic, because ren has an innate ability to be romantic with every single one of his friends, but like i said, most of ren's attention is on martyn, and skizz is so obsessed with this guy from day one, so it oftentimes feels one sided, or at least like skizz cares significantly more about ren than ren cares about him. but let's got into it!

so all this starts in literally the first episode of third life. while martyn is technically the first person ren recruits as an employee of renchanting, skizz is the first person ren recruits to follow him. they first encounter each other early in the first session, when ren is out in the rain and dark right near skizz's ugly ass house. skizz attempts to save him from some mobs and does a bad job, but offers ren some shelter from the storm. once inside, they do a small trade- ren asks if he can have skizz's leather, for his upcoming enchanting business, and he gives skizz a golden apple in exchange. skizz thinks this is a way uneven trade, and now skizz is tied to ren forever (all this happens around 6 minutes into skizz's first third life episode).

skizz and ren meet back up later in the first session, after ren has begun to establish renchanting more clearly, and after he's begun to recruit etho. ren, etho, and skizz decide to go check out the desert together, and this is where skizz has his first death to an enderman. every single one of skizz's deaths in third life is about ren, somehow, btw!

from there, while skizz doesn't immediately move into dogwarts, he's on their side from day one. skizz and ren (and jimmy but this ain't about him) both die to the enchanter trap. skizz is red, and ren is about to go red with the whole red winter thing. also, it should be noted- skizz looses all of his stuff to the enchanter trap. in the aftermath, bigb gives him some gold armor and half broken iron tools, just so he can make his way home safely.

when martyn kills ren to usher in red winter, about half the server initially assumes that martyn turned on ren, including skizz. skizz assumes that ren is in danger, and that he needs help. it takes him a hot second to get there (partially due to his extremely shitty armor), but he's the first person to arrive at dogwarts after this happens (about 15:25 in ren's episode 9). he shows up shouting for ren to get behind him, saying he's there to help, to protect him, with his INSANELY SHITTY ARMOR AND WEAPONS. skizz gets talked down pretty quickly, but there is no way he would've won a fight with martyn if he actually needed to get into it with him. but he's willing to do it anyways in order to keep ren safe.

once he has everything explained to him, however, skizz is instantly down. skizz's favorite thing in the world is to be a "loyal sword" (direct quote describing himself, from impulse's first episode of secret life around 14 minutes in), and ren allows him to do that so completely, in a way not a single other alliance of his ever has. skizz is willing to put his entire life and all his decisions in ren's hands, and ren is willing to take on that responsibility. both of skizz's kills in the first season are entirely to protect and support ren. does this blind faith in ren always go well for skizz? ehhhh not necessarily. but his final death, which is under ren's banner, and sees him shouting "i love you guys and i hate them" to the red army, isn't actually at ren's command. in fact, it's explicitly against ren's command, but it's skizz's final show of loyalty to and care for ren and the red army, and a decision he makes entirely on his own. so even though it kills him, he can't blame ren for it, and there's no animosity between them come the start of last life.

in the wake of skizz's death, ren also gets TWO WHOLE FINAL KILLS with the sword he named in skizz's honor, which i would just like to note. ren wields skizz as sword long after he's gone.

THEN we get last life. moments get a lot sparser here because they're on different teams, but there's important things to note. namely, that two of skizz's three deaths that season are to ren!

the most insane of the two, to me, is when ren boogey kills skizz (in skizz's episode 4). skizz is on edge when he arrives at ren's base, but he's immediately drawn in by ren anyways. they both spend the entire conversation being sickeningly sweet to each other (with skizz complimenting ren's build over and over and ren constantly complementing skizz's appearance and telling skizz he loves him). and the thing is, skizz knows from basically second one that ren is the boogey. he has that feeling when he walks up, and he knows ren is just a nice guy, but he's still very on edge the whole time, and it's obvious from how he's constantly running around/trying not to stand in one place so he can't get trapped. BUT REN MANAGES TO TRAP HIM ANYWAYS!

and not only does ren manage to trap him, but skizz CAN'T EVEN BE MAD!!! like, he dies and goes "oh, i hate him", "he's the worst", "i am broken hearted" but he also knows it's his own fault for trusting ren so wholeheartedly ("he went fishing, and he got me" "i walked right into his trap, he got me"). even while he laments having died to the trap, he's still complimenting ren's abilities in regards to building it and his charisma in getting skizz to fall for it, and it's SO FUN, i love it. skizz simply cannot help but be nice to people, but it really is clear here that he has a huge soft spot for ren. he's holding a grudge, but he can't help but compliment ren the whole time he does it.

and then, of course, there's skizz's final death. skizz and impulse come up on ren's tower after lizzie kills bigb. ren is on guard, because he's a green surrounded by three reds (though lizzie leaves very shortly after killing bigb), but he doesn't make any moves on them. it's skizz who takes the first shot, firing on ren while he reminisces about ren killing him at this same tower as his first death of the season. the two engage in a fire fight for a bit, with my favorite part of the interaction being:

ren: what do you want skizz? skizz: i want blood! (skizz's episode 7, 23:50)

it's extremely reminiscent of a conversation the two of them have in third life multiple times over. skizz repeatedly tells ren that he wants blood, that he needs to kill, once he goes red. the last time he says this is before he runs headfirst into his own death. this is a sentiment ren is deeply familiar with, and before, this need for blood was channeled into protecting ren. now, though, ren's on the other side of it, and it is scary. ren's constantly asking that skizz just leave and not make him retaliate. for all that he's terrified, he doesn't actually want to kill skizz here if he doesn't have to. or at least he doesn't want to try when he's so outnumbered and scared.

the fight continues, and skizz is doing the same thing he did in response to ren's boogey kill- complimenting him. he tells impulse over and over how skilled ren is, constantly saying that they're up against a master, even as ren is actively running away from the fight. he has an insane amount of faith in ren, and he always has. even when that faith in ren should be shaken, either because they're actively trying to kill each other or because ren, frankly, looks like a coward this whole fight, skizz can't help but be impressed with ren, and his faith remains strong. eventually, ren gets backup from cleo and scott, and skizz decides to run, but as he runs, ren works up his courage and shoots him dead. skizz is mad, but he's not mad at ren, he's mad at himself for not being able to kill anybody.

and then the two of them get separated. skizz isn't in double life, and ren isn't in limited life or secret life. and everyone has talked about how weird martyn gets in the absence of ren, but it happens to skizz too. both skizz and martyn are trying to fill the hole ren left in their lives in limited life, but they're doing it in different ways. martyn is trying to find someone (scott) to replace ren as someone he can be truly loyal to and skizz is trying to fill the hole ren left as leader, as king, not by finding that leader in someone else, but by stepping up to fill the role himself. and it doesn't work out for either of them!

skizz doesn't explicitly say that's what he's doing in limited life, but it's very clear, with the most notable example of this being skizz, just like ren, giving up his life to one of his "soldiers", by handing them an axe and saying "i need you to kill me for your own good". just like ren.

and i will say- this is not a limited life exclusive thing. skizz tries to recreate the red army in last life too, with team BEST, and it doesn't really work out there either (though it certainly goes worse for team BEST). so come secret life, skizz says "maybe i can't be ren, maybe i need to find someone else i can trust to lead me" and he TRIES in the first episode of secret life. he says, explicitly, that this is what he's doing (in the "loyal sword" conversation mentioned above, and in the small bit of conversation that proceeds that, which is around 18:40 in scott's first episode). but he can't find a single person willing to fulfill that same role, so he steps up to do it again. and it fails again.

and here's the thing about skizz trying to fill ren's shoes, trying to recreate what he had with ren and the red army every single season since then. that's how i've been interpreting skizz's actions for the entirety of the series, but also SKIZZ EXPLICITLY SAID THAT'S WHAT HE WAS DOING.

(quote starts at 1:08:01 in the imp and skizz episode about secret life)

"it's just in my nature, i'm like, i just don't- i don't care about winning. but- but i- but i'm not gonna- i'd be lying if i said it wouldn't be kinda nice. and i wanna- and i do wanna last, and i wanna be competitive, but i'm really more focused on having a great time and putting together good content, and creating alliances that are very, very strong, and are a brotherhood. like what we did with the- i mean, every season. from BEST to TIES to uh, to the Heart Foundation, like it's been a really strong family, really strong brotherhood that uh- that i've really enjoyed that- that journey in creating. and it started with ren and martyn in season one."

IT'S ALL BEEN MODELED ON DOGWARTS! IT'S ALL BEEN DOGWARTS FOR HIM THE WHOLE TIME!!! skizz has been desperately trying to recreate what he had with ren since the moment he no longer had it anymore and i think that's insanely interesting. and i choose to interpret that obsession with ren as romantic because ren and skizz are. like that. and cannot refrain from calling each other hot or telling the other that they love them or what have you, but even if you don't want to interpret it as romantic, i think their dynamic is INSANELY interesting and i need more people talking about them.

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

The final part for The House of Glass! Everyone has a lot to figure out, but progress takes time. Follows from this. This was my first ever complete comic from start to finish, I hope you guys enjoyed the journey!

If you've enjoyed this comic, please consider donating to Aya Yasser, a 19 year old university student from the University of Palestine. She had to pause her studies due to attacks on Gaza. Her 55 year old father is ill and she is trying to evacuate him and her brothers.

You can find her blog @samaagaza

It's like two in the morning right now so I might be a bit incoherent, cw for discussions of racism, homophobia, biphobia, sinophobia and classism

I've really wanted to write Chang as someone who's made to be a perpetual outsider. As a Chinese person born in the UK I've always been made to feel like a foreigner no matter where I go - obviously I am a foreigner abroad but I'm also treated as such in the very country I was born and raised in. I think a lot of east Asian people can relate to being treated as a strange exotic foreigner first and a person second.

As a working class orphan he would probably have been treated as disposable by society at large too. As soon as he's rescued by Tintin in the Blue Lotus he immediately asks why Tintin bothered saving him, and in his letter to Tintin in Tintin in Tibet he writes that he's unworthy of his uncle's hopsitality. We don't get much from Chang as he doesn't make many appearances but it seems he's internalised strong feelings of a lack of self worth. Tintin may have been the first person to recognise his humanity since Chang's birth family passed.

Being queer is also very isolating at first. You're not born into a culture you can reference or make sense of your experiences initially, it's something you have to seek out. I wanted to explore learning to love yourself through others. We're all weird to some degree, we're all in this together!

I genuinely have no clue how I'd follow this up, I have ideas for future stories but I'm not sure what would follow directly from here!

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.

This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.

Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.

But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.

Here’s who was on the dating roster:

• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.

• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.

• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.

And finally,

• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.

So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.

Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.

She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.

“Do you want it?”

“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”

But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.

So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.

I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.

I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!

What about the table?!

“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”

Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.

There on my doorstep. The table.

It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.

“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.

“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”

“Make me an offer.”

I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.

This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.

“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.

I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”

They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.

But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.

“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.

With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.

It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.

So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.

I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!

Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”

I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.

For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.

Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.

It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”

“Did you like it?”

“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”

My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.

Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.

“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”

“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.

So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.

[4nicolas]

satoru thinks he likes the moments after sex with you more than the actual sex itself.

I mean, don’t get him wrong he absolutely loved when the two of you fucked but there just something about the intimacy of the afterglow.

whether satoru was collapsed on top of you or you were collapsed on top of him it felt great. the warmth of your bodies combined made you feel even better.

the two of you coming down from your highs and simply enjoying one another’s presence was another kind of bliss.

he couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted nothing more than to keep you in bed all day; cuddling or being intimate he didn’t care. as long as it contained both your bodies pressed together.

although you were both sticky and sweaty you still felt incredibly comfortable. laying in your own fluids is gross, yeah, but with satoru none of that mattered.

even when the two of you were intertwined satoru still needed more, he needed his arms around you and his legs tangled with yours. he just needed you as close as possible.

your presence alone made him tremendously happy, having your physical touch was just an added bonus, he feels like the happiest man alive when you give him something as simple as a hug. so obviously cuddling was his favorite pastime.

the two of you breathing heavily, not speaking but all the words you wanted to get out being said. your love and adoration was already communicated through the past moments and laying in a comfortable silence was just the cherry on top.

satoru liked to trace little shapes on your skin, his fingers lulling you into a trance, he tried not to let you fall asleep though, he needed his precious lover to keep him company.

if you did find yourself falling asleep satoru would mumble your name or gently scratch your scalp, though if you were genuinely exhausted he would let you sleep.

when you did end up falling asleep he would try and maneuver the both of you under the covers, the added layer keeping you cozy, and being in satorus arms even more so.

other times satoru would try and coax you into taking a quick shower or bath, especially if you both went a bit rougher. all he wanted was the make you feel safe and comfortable and he would always try his hardest to do so.

sometimes the showers consist of satoru lazily holding you against his or vice versa, simply basking in the warm water and each others bodies. did satoru ever mention he loved being close to you?

he does tell you that, a lot actually. but if he didn’t he most definitely would make up by showing it. sometimes when you two take a bath together he’ll let you lay against him, gently massing your shoulders or arms after a long day.

he’ll give you space treatment if you really wanted, anything for you, just say it and he’ll get it.

one part he didn’t like was having to bother or move you so he could wash the sheets, which leads to him not cleaning them just to keep you comfy.

sometimes he would have you sit in the warm tub while he washed the blankets and took care of everything. he wanted to make sure you came back to a clean and fresh pair of covers.

he gave you royal treatment and he knows what that means because he was treated like a king his whole life. though he definitely did much better than that, he gave you all the love and attention you could need tenfold.

when all was said and done the two of you normally got cuddled up under the freshly washed blankets of your shared (king sized) bed, after having taken a nice hot shower or bath of course.

the two of you would hold each other close the entirety of the night, not letting go for a second, and you better hope you don’t have to pee in the middle of the night because you’re not getting out his grasp.

all in all during intimacy and the aftermath and he would take care of you the best he could. after all your the only person whose ever made him feel this way before. it was weird to care so much about one person, he didn’t know how to feel.

he tries his best and will continue to for as long as you two live (yes live, because you’re not breaking up ever.) satoru will do anything and everything for you because he loves you.

he loves you more than anything in the world and couldn’t imagine life without you, so for the rest of his life he will do everything in his power to appeal to you.

of course you tell him he doesn’t need to do all of that but he insists and who are you to say to the satoru gojo?

—

not proof read, im tired and it’s 3am! :P

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired College AU

AKA "Danny Fenton and Tim Drake go to college at Gotham-U together" headcanon!!

Maybe Danny moved to Gotham to avoid his parents finding out about Phantom and Tim is a part-time college student trying to get his business degree so people stop accusing Bruce Wayne of nepotism after Tim inherited WE. (It absolutely still is, but at least this way Tim is at least somewhat more qualified on paper.)

Anyways, they both took Anthropology as their humanities/pre-requisite elective and they're discussing death rituals, afterlife, etc. Now imagine Danny, officially Half-Dead, and Tim, who's brothers (Jason and Damian) literally died, getting into a heated discussion about spirits.

I also find the idea of them arguing via fucking Canvas (or whatever discussion forum/platform Gotham-U uses) so, so funny.

Imagine it's like 3am;

Danny, insomniac, been awake for 42 hours and popping melatonin gummies like gummy bears, furiously typing: i'm literally THE KING of infinite realms?? i know what i'm talking about, i fucking died

Tim, also been awake for 42 hours, chugging an energy drink, sending a response in 0.2 seconds: Half of Gotham has died at some point. You're not special, dumbass.

Give me "group of scientists losing their minds and climbing over the table to assault one another during scientific conference" vibes!!

And then they get paired up to do a group presentation (and Brad, who they ignore because they're both Experts, so this poor frat dude just slowly sinks into his chair between two sleep-deprived maniacs screaming at each other in the library). But Tim notices something weird about Danny, aside from his insane views on afterlife. Danny... glows? And sometimes doesn't really touch the floor when he walks. They're going to get coffee (so they can keep arguing debating, obviously, not because they enjoy each other's company or anything), and Tim watches as Danny just kind of... floats. Like, he's still walking but he's not really touching the ground.

Danny's hands are also super cold. Tim knows this because he grabbed Danny's hands once or twice (or more) to do... something, idk. But since his hands were so cold, Tim figured he should probably keep holding them; y'know, to warm them up.

And when Tim leans in to ask a question or insult him, Danny's breath comes out almost like a mist. Visibly white, like exhaling a hot breath in winter. Which... what. Holy shit, is his presentation partner actually sort of dead??

Danny, on the other hand, has no idea that Tim doesn't know. He literally said he died? And Tim took it so well, snarked back that he's not special - it was so nice to just feel normal. So he lets his guard down a bit. Maybe isn't as tangible, maybe is a bit more floaty, lets his body temperature drop enough to be comfortable. Doesn't put a whole lot of effort into making himself look so alive (because it's really tiring to pretend to be something you're not) when it's just him and Tim because Tim already knows, right?

They could be friends or they could be more! Whatever floats your boat.

But I could totally see Danny squinting at Tim holding his hand, remembering how Tim bought his favorite coffee, saved him a spot a the library, constantly texted him (because, c'mon, Tim is a bit obsessive and you don't think he'd be texting his new "friend ;)" every minute he has the chance?), and always leaned in super close to "ask a question"...and be like, are we flirting?? Oh, Hells, am I into him??

For plot reasons, Danny could be like, "I can't tell Tim I like him! What if I ruin our friendship? It'll be my secret."

And then, one day, Tim is like, "Hey, I know you're keeping something from me. I think I know what it is." And Danny's like ohshitohfuck. This cumulates into them saying, at the same time, I know you're a ghost and I have a crush on you.

Tim and Danny: *shocked Pikachu face*

Then, Danny's like, "I can't believe I have a crush on a fucking idiot."

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [THINGS THEY SAY DURING 'IT'] ¡! ❞ @ - Part 1.

TW: MDNI - NSFW, sexual themes obviously lol

SUMMARY: Title :)

CHARACTERS: Aether Albedo Al-Haitham Ayato Baizhu Capitano Childe Cyno Dainsleif Diluc Dottore Freminet & Gorou x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.044

A/N: idk just a random new idea, watch me get more and more unserious with every character you pass

Aether

❝Agh-...shit...❞ - he holds back his sounds as he moans and curses into his hand

❝ Mh-no, like that, yeah...move like that...good❞ - he bites his lip as his lust drowned eyes stare up at you, holding your thighs tight for stability

❝Slower?...okay❞ - speeds up with a slight laugh, stopping seconds later to slow down again

Albedo

❝This spot? Yeah?...knew it...❞ - it's rare for you to see him smug, but that smirk he will give you when he finds out his guess was right is something else

❝Hold still for me...yes?❞ - he pushes your thighs apart, settling down comfortably between them as he dives in

❝Some interesting sounds you make...❞ - and he will carve them into his mind. When you're away he will remember them, will miss them, miss you and everything about you

Al-Haitham

❝Keep quite...❞ - there's no harshness in his words, just slight desperation as he breaths those words in your ear as he fucks you on the couch in his shared house with Kaveh, while he is asleep in his room

❝Tell me what you want...come on, you can do it. Speak up.❞ - sometimes the way he talks to you is infuriating, like he's talking to a stupid child. It not only embarrasses you when he speaks so teasingly, it makes you angry, frustrated, and maybe a bit turned on

❝If you can't watch your hands i won't watch my teeth.❞ - you tugged on his precious hair, so he can't help but tease you even more as he eats you out

Ayato

❝Mmm...yeah...❞ - he's rather quite, Ayato hums more, right in your ear with such a disgusting smirk because he knows any sound he does will drive you wild

❝Don't overestimate yourself, hm?❞ - he always says the same as you sink down on him. He knows exactly that his tip just puts too much pressure on your cervix. He might tease you, but he doesn't want to hurt you

❝I got you...don't worry, i got you...❞ - while you come down from your high...did he came himself? No, but it's okay. You're his number 1 priority

Baizhu

❝So...warm...❞ - no matter how many times you two have sex, your warmth will always overwhelm him

❝Shh...you don't know who might come in.❞ - he doesn't take many risks but god he can't hold himself back when you help him out in Bubu Pharmacy

❝I'll take care of it...don't worry.❞ - look, he's a doctor, a people pleaser and helper, ofc he only takes care of you and not of himself

Capitano

❝Take it slow, theres no rush.❞ - says the big guy with the prettiest cock and he doesn't even know it

❝Do you need a break? No?...heh...alright then...❞ - proceeds to rearrange your guts

❝What did i tell you?❞ - he means please, tell him please, ask nicely with manners like he taught you

Childe

❝Naww, someones needy huh? It went riiight in, with no problem.❞ - I bet you can practically hear and see the smug look on this abominations face

❝Look baby i don't wanna hurt you, yeah? You need to tell me when i go too hard.❞ - just a little nice check in for him. He wants to make sure you know you are always free to tell him off, he doesn't want to force himself on and in you

❝Good? Hah-ah-...yeah...thought so...❞ - sometimes the smugness will flatter, especially once he's close...you don't know who enjoys it more, him or you

Cyno

❝You hear that?...Thats you...❞ - he pumps his fingers in and out of you, slow and fast, changing pace. But no matter how fast or slow, he absolutely loves when you're as wet as you can get

❝Are you certain that you really want th-! Ouch why'd you slap me-❞ - he always asks the same, over and over again, it's nice that he keeps asking for your consent but at this point it annoys you like...bro you already been between my legs for like 30mins I had enough time thinking about it

❝Where?...ah-quick tell me-❞ - whenever he doesn't wear a condom and realistically...I don't think condoms exist in genshin lol

Dainsleif

❝So desperate...it's almost cute.❞ - he knows it's basically a long distance relationship considering he's almost never there. That's what makes it even "better" for him when you two see each other. He can't help but tease

❝Calm down, we're not in a rush.❞ - basically the first, same vibe, call me lazy lol

❝Still...gh-taking it so well...❞ - uhhh yeah we have a theme here

Diluc

❝You look cold...i could warm you up...❞ - sometimes him being smooth works, sometimes not, and sometimes he just sounds like a cheaper version of himself (Batman)...or sometimes he does what Kaeya says-

❝Where's the 'please'?❞ - he's so well mannered it's scary, so he expects the same for you too. Say please and thank you

❝Maybe if you would've behaved like I told you to, we wouldn't be here right now.❞ - he says it so calm as he fucks you against the cold stone wall behind Angels share in the middle of the night where any drunken idiot could see...or the patrols...that are very much sober (hopefully???)

Dottore

❝Hm? This? Oh, thats just for documentation.❞ - he records your voice...he literally studies your reactions and change in voice.

❝I won't tell you again, hold still.❞ - he isn't scared of tying you up at all so either hold still or be held still

❝...hm...you're too quite...❞ - he literally wants the Tsaritsa to hear like???

Freminet

❝Ngh-h-hey-calm down or else-!❞ - WE LOBE SUB BOYS, I WANNA HEAR YOU SCREAM, WE LOVE SUB BOYS

❝This is...new...yeah...❞ - he's a explorer but he also wants to be explored sksksksksk

❝So-warm-!❞ - uhm...self explanatory. When he enters you it's warm lol

Gorou

❝Wdym I'm in heat AGAIN?!❞ - he can't help but not be horny like?? Have you seen yourself??

❝Agh-...i tried to br gentle but you just-❞ - no self control, smh

❝Right there? See...told you i won't forget.❞ - he's eating you out, and still remembers your most sensitive spots like it's craved in his mind...because it is

[cherrygirlfriend]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ hands-on learner

pairing: rafe cameron x sunshine!reader synopsis: reader tries giving oral for the first time, but when rafe realizes it's her first time, he comforts her. tags/warnings: fluff, smut, oral (male receiving), porn, fluff, MDNI! wc: 1k a/n; this was requested on my former account so nonnie, i hope you stumble across this!!

sunshine masterlist ♡ rafe masterlist

before rafe came along, you hadn't really dated. your prior dating life, if you could even call it that, consisted having gone to a school disco when you were thirteen with a boy who had called it a date. so, your sexual conquests consisted of one person. yourself.

when you told your best friend that you wanted to take the next step and asked her for advice, cara gave you some pointers, and told you to absolutely never do one thing: use porn to help.

so, obviously, the first thing you did that night was slide under your covers, take out your laptop and your reading glasses, and search 'porn' on your computer. not even a specific site; just porn like you were a pubescent teen with a bottle of hand lotion and an on old sock.

you clicked the orange-black logo and searched up the word 'blowjob', startled by the various thumbnails filled with naked people, each of the title more and more lewd.

'big lips taking... busty goth girl... face fucking my step-'

you slammed the laptop screen close, your face warm and your lips pursed as you stared up at the ceiling, then proceeding to google 'how to give a blowjob'.

the sight of rafe in your room always made you laugh.

a six-foot-something man with his hair buzzed who always seemed to be clad in something at the very least semi-formal standing in your room filled with pinks and whites, as well as calico critters, plushies, sonny angels and hundreds of other trinkets he didn't know the name of.

even funnier was the sight of him in your bed, filled with (pink) throw pillows and sides that were lined with lace. but rafe couldn't care less about what your bed, or bedroom looked like, his lips on yours and your body under his as rafe's hands slid under the thin material of your shirt. you weren't sure how long you two had been making out, but it was long enough for the familiar heat to start pooling in your lower stomach, for the ache between your legs to appear.

you pull away from the kiss breathlessly, rafe looking down at you with a dazed expression, his ice-blue irises basically taken over by the black of his pupils. "can we... try something new?" you breathe out, causing him to raise his brows.

"like what?"

the moment that rafe's brows raised in question, your hand was on his bulge, rubbing him through the denim fabric in a way that caused rafe to let out a noise that was between a moan and whine. you slowly started to unbuckle his belt, rafe's breath held with every part of the process as he watched you to undo the button of his jeans, each little crunch of his zipper causing his pants to feel even tighter.

you tugged his jeans lower, palming rafe through his boxers, "i-is it okay if i take you... into my mouth?" you ask, biting down on your lip.

"w-what?" rafe mumbled in response, too blissed out to really register what you were saying. "yeah, yeah... go ahead."

you pulled down rafe's boxers, his cock springing free as your eyes widened from the sight. you'd never actually seen someone's... thing in real life, and you could feel your face heating up from the sight.

you'd read that you should have some kind of lubricant, deciding to use your saliva as you spit on the palm of your hand before hesitantly wrapping it around the base of his hardened cock, and rafe brought his hand over yours, tightening your grip, "a bit tighter, baby..."

once you squeezed slightly tighter, rafe groaned, letting go of your hand as you stroked his cock once, twice, three times… and after only a few seconds, rafe's cock started leaking with pre-cum. you brought your mouth down to the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to taste the tangy liquid.

rafe gasped when you licked a stripe up a vein on the underside of his cock, his hips twitching and lifting off your bed, "fuck..." he mumbled, his hand going to grab your hair by the back of your head, your eyes slightly widening in surprise; you should've guessed, you'd seen it happen a lot in the films you watched.

you took the tip of rafe's cock into your mouth, trying your best to do what they recommended in the articles you'd read, in the movies you'd watched. you started bobbing your head up and down on his length while rafe's hand was in your hair, gently guiding you. you tried taking him in deeper, triggering your gag reflex as his head hit the back of your throat, and although it made you feel dizzy, rafe let out a loud gasp, a shudder running down his spine.

you continued sucking him off, occasionally stroking the shaft, rafe's breathing becoming more uncontrolled, the man letting out small whispers of your name.

but when you took him in deeper again until the tip of his cock met the back of your throat, triggering your gagging reflex again, and even though rafe clearly enjoyed it, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, the man pulled you away from his cock, his hand on your chin.

"what are you doing?" he asked with a slightly dazed look on his face. causing you to frown as you looked up at him through your thick lashes, a confused pout on your lips.

"i... i thought you'd like that."

"i did, but i can tell you didn't. what's up?" his brows were furrowed as he cupped your cheek, "baby?"

"i just..." you sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "i read that it's more enjoyable... to..." you hid your face behind your hands, "forget it! it's really embarrassing..."

rafe took hold of your wrists, gently moving them away from your face, intertwining your fingers with his, "baby, just... just relax." he sighed, "i just want you to be comfortable. don't do anything you're not comfortable with."

he brought his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before doing the same to the other hand before letting go of them, lifting your chin up so you were looking at him. "i don't want you reading some dumbass advice forums. don't do something that's not comfortable. let's just take things at our own pace, sunshine."

"alright…" you breathe out, "then… just help me." you smile softly, your cheeks warming up.

[alleiwentcrazy]

“Wait,” Steve propped himself on his elbow, getting into a half-lying, half-sitting up position, “you’d do that for me?”

“Yeah man,” Eddie replied. He shimmied a little bit closer to the middle of the mattress and snuggled to his pillow. His eyebrows furrowed as he yawned. “I mean, I kind of did that already, didn’t I?”

Steve just kept on looking at him, stunned. It felt so strange to be cared for; to be remembered, known. He’d never had been, not like that—with Robin, sure, but that was different. He’d never felt like that with Nancy. With anyone. He hadn’t had to try and make out someone’s silhouette in the darkness, just to read their face and decide whether they were just selfless and nice or doing something for him. Truly for him, for the sake of doing it for him. It had never been an issue, because there had never been anyone about whom he’d had to wonder things like that. It had always been an exchange of sorts in this context.

But not with Eddie.

Steve’s head started to spin.

“Honestly I can’t wait for you to see it. You know she’s not really my type, but even I can see how fucking cool this car is. It felt a little like tuning my guitar or—”

Steve didn’t even register it when he reached for Eddie’s face, his consciousness wasn’t in the room when he lowered himself down and sank even closer to the boy who’d put his heart in a wrench. He just kissed him, and when he did – momentarily, it was a complete bliss. As long as his lips were gently pressed to Eddie’s, no matter how hard his heart was beating, it felt like he would be okay after all. Nothing else was important; he was kissing Eddie. He felt warm and cared for; he was kissing Eddie. 

Eddie.

Steve felt a finger hook at the rim of his shirt, he felt himself being pulled closer.

The panic came approximately three seconds later.

Their lips parted with the softest tsk, but Steve heard it several times louder. His senses were screaming at him, all alarms set off; the smell of Eddie’s shampoo lingered around his face, the sensation of chapped lips lingered against his, his fingers were tingling where they came in contact with Eddie’s slightest stubble.

It was curious how much Eddie reminded him of a cat at that moment. He was rigid, but ready to spring into action whenever, and his eyes were ridiculously big, almost fluorescent in the dim moonlight that was seeping through the trailer’s curtains. The longer Steve looked into those eyes, the more he felt like he might have fucked up. Bad.

“Should I—I should, I mean I…” He trailed off, getting a little further away from Eddie with every word. “I should, yeah, probably. Go.”

He practically jumped out of the bed, and it pained him how cold it was without Eddie close to him. He’d gotten so used to sleeping here, just sleeping, whenever Wayne was out and no uncomfortable questions would be asked, so that they both could feel a little less alone.

“I’ll take the van, we’ll exchange cars later today, alright?” Steve looked for his change of clothes in the darkness. They were, as usual, neatly stacked in his designated space at Eddie’s desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I mean, I did, but I’m, uh. I’m…” He trailed off, his cheeks getting embarrassingly hot and pink, he supposed, even though he couldn’t see himself in the mirror.

It felt wrong to say he was sorry. He was, obviously, he just kissed Eddie out of nowhere, but it didn’t feel like a mistake. His lips were still warm. He wanted to purse them tightly to keep the memory of Eddie’s lips on his firmly in place.

“We should do it again.”

Steve froze.

“What?”

He turned back towards the bed. It was much easier to make out Eddie’s form now. He was sitting up, chewing his thumbnail, his eyes barely flickering to Steve. His hair stood out against the white-ish wall and Eddie’s gray T-shirt. The waves were quite disheveled, but still cascaded beautifully over his shoulders.

Damn, Steven.

“We should do it again. If you’re not sure, we should do it again.”

Not sure about what? Steve did not dare ask. Eddie looked so nervous, maybe even more nervous than Steve felt. Both of their breaths were coming short now, as if they’d just run a marathon.

Apprehensively, Steve sat back down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped underneath him and he swayed a bit forward.

“We should kiss. Again?” That really was what it was, right?

Eddie nodded his head quickly. Steve’s breath hitched when the smell of Eddie’s shampoo reached his nose once again.

There were very few thoughts in Steve’s head. There was just Eddie, right in front of him, chewing his nail, nodding away. Wanting to kiss him, again, having been kissed once already. Steve was confused and more than a little queasy, but his willpower wasn’t quite strong enough to get him questioning things.

“Okay,” he mumbled. Eddie finally looked at him, lowered his hand to his lap and nodded.

Some sort of nervous sound rumbled in the back of Steve’s throat. Okay. It was okay. He leaned in—and Eddie leaned in at the same time. Warm breath tickled Steve’s lips, and he stopped just before meeting Eddie half-way.

“Are you su—”

Eddie was kissing him before the sentence got out of his mouth in its entirety. Really kissing him, not just pressing their lips together, kissing him, still incredibly stiff and distanced, but kissing him. Oh, with something more than just curiosity, Steve could tell. He let out one heavy breath through his nose and felt Eddie relax right away with him. Their lips were in perfect harmony; Steve’s chest tightened. His stomach felt heavy and full and squirmy and for some reason Steve had never felt better than in this moment, even though his eyes stung and he could barely breathe.

His hands acted on their own accord, one settling on Eddie’s shoulder, the other on his cheek, keeping him close, closer, closer still.

Their lips parted. Steve felt the loss immediately.

“I’m gonna…” Eddie whispered huskily, untangling his legs from the cover and shifting his position. It was funny how one of his knees kind of hovered over Steve’s lap in silent question – it was even funnier how long it took Steve to process that.

“Yeah, feel free, please.”

What the fuck, Steven.

Eddie straddled his lap and leaned right back for another kiss, pressing their chests together. Their hearts kept thump thump thumping loudly against their chests, and Steve was kind of actively losing his mind over that. Eddie, in his gray T-shirt and stupid plaid shorts, was straddling his lap, kissing him, making him believe that he had the whole world in the palm of his hand. Was it even real? Could Steve touch him? Would it really be alright? He laid his hand on Eddie’s thigh, feeling hair and goosebumps underneath his fingers. Another conclusion from that night: Eddie was hot. Steve kissed him harder, and he reciprocated, grabbing Steve’s neck.

Steve had no idea for how long they had been kissing, until Eddie swayed dangerously close to the edge of the bed and Steve’s neck started to hurt. It wasn’t nearly enough, but that was it.

For now, hopefully.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled against Eddie’s lips, “and you’ve got to be at the shop at 8 sharp tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said and stole one more peck. “You wanna sleep?”

Fuck me if I can, Steve thought, but nodded yes.

“But let’s talk tomorrow? Okay?”

Eddie’s hands were still cupping his cheeks. His lips seemed sleek and shiny, shinier than his eyes, even.

“We must,” he replied. They both nodded. For some reason Steve’s heart started beating even faster now.

Eddie scrambled from his lap, cleared his throat and rearranged the covers, getting back into his favourite position. Steve followed suit. The gap between them seemed enormous and immediately got filled with anxious energy.

Steve reached between them hesitantly. For a few seconds his hand just lay there, empty and suddenly very cold. Eddie’s open palm touched his. He let out a big breath.

They would figure it out. For sure. Tomorrow.

[daenysx]

remus lupin x fem!reader, fluff/comfort mostly ♡

-remus thinks he doesn't deserve anything nice. he can't be more wrong.

cw; this is super sickly sweet and romantic read at your own discretion, sleepy remus, friends to lovers (?), pining and yearning, touch starved!remus, kinda touch starved!reader, kissing, so much so so much kissing, remus smokes, he also apologises a lot, a bit suggestive at the end but nothing smutty

wc; 1.7k

loved by you

"remus?"

you lean slightly to see remus' face only to find him fast asleep on your side of the bed. his lips are parted, soft cheek melting against your pillow, and he looks peaceful. he looks like he's finally getting some rest and you could never disturb him when he needs it the most.

you know it's not polite to stare, and you never could if remus was awake. he's in all your wishes and every dream, a precious boy who has love for everyone other than himself. his long fingers are squeezing the blanket only a little, palm filled with the fluffy fabric.

there's an ache that grows. you want to kiss remus. the urge is sweet and impossible to follow, you want to press yourself on his lovely skin and get a glimpse of him. what would it be like to love him? love him like nothing can stop you. kiss him anywhere you want. read him books and poems, ask for his opinion, seek his hands under all the tables. all the casuality that comes with love, you want it.

remus is not your boyfriend.

you sit down properly on your bed. he always says he likes your apartment better than his. he looks like he belongs here. under your blanket and surrounded by your scent all over the bed. he lets himself be okay every time he's in your room.

you watch him. his small frown, tiny pout, but he looks pretty. he always looks pretty. too bad he's only a friend and nothing more.

he turns to his side in his sleep. you don't move.

remus stretches his legs, small sounds of back cracks follow, and he relaxes. his body looks for yours, he comes closer.

you think nothing of it. it only means he's exhausted. he is just a human with a tired body that he has to drag everywhere, it's normal that he seeks comfort. he trusts you, you know. it's okay if he wants to be closer.

when he extends his arm to wrap it around your waist, you freeze.

remus looks like a little boy when he pouts, not getting what he wants, he tries to pull you close with an almost useless arm. he murmurs something you can't hear properly.

you let him get you in his bubble. how can you not when he's obviously needy of it? connection and touch. remus craves it like he's been starved for so long. you're no better.

he puts his head on your chest. you're holding him in your arms in a second. his hair tickles your skin. he makes a tiny sound, it's full of yearning, the kind that makes you want to tangle your legs with his and never let him walk away.

"it's okay." you whisper. your hand goes up to cup his cheek. he nearly melts. "i'm here."

you'll always be here, if that's what he wants.

he tightens his arms around you. you drag your hand to the back of his neck, nails scratching his scalp, you play with him. he's sleeping so deep, you'd do anything for him to get a few hours of this.

"you are loved, so loved." you can't help yourself. you kiss right below his ear. it's too much for a friend. "just need you to know how precious you are, remus."

he doesn't hear your whispers. maybe this is better. he'd probably tell you to stop. stop complimenting. stop telling him that he's something he doesn't think he is. stop being so sweet on him. he doesn't deserve it, he'd say.

you want to fight all his demons.

instead, you pull him even closer, make sure he's comfortable where he is. the pillow is soft under his head, and you are incredibly warm and inviting. can he feel the gentle pressure of your fingers in his hair? you don't know, but you keep playing with him. taking your time, you count every eyelash and every tiny spot on his face.

an hour passes with your loving and remus' gentle breaths. he's still sleeping like a baby.

your fingers feel a bit numb. you try to relax them, focus on remus. you probably won't be able to appreciate his beauty for a long time after he wakes up. he'll thank you and leave, maybe he'll offer to make you a cup of coffee to let you know he's grateful. you don't really need that, but he'll feel obligated to do something in return.

he stirs awake after another fifteen minutes.

"hey." you whisper, gently coaxing him out of his sleep. "everything's okay."

the thin line between his eyebrows disappear after he realizes where he is, who he is with.

"i didn't mean to fall asleep." he says, his voice is rough and delicious. "i was- waiting for you."

"i know." you tell him. he still has his arms around you. "it's okay, you needed to sleep."

"yeah." he says, mind blurry with a comforting haze. his body is responsive to every bit of affection, he can't separate himself from you.

in that moment, something in the air shifts.

remus looks at you with longing. as if he knows this won't last. as if it pains him to leave your arms. he takes a greedy breath, inhaling your perfume and carving you to his mind. he'll remember this forever.

you don't know what this is, this weird feeling that makes you lean to his face softly. it can be madness. it can be love, a type of love that is so deep, you have to keep reminding yourself of your surroundings constantly.

"remus?" you have to say his name. you have to be sure.

"yes." he says. that's not a question. he accepts it. he wants it.

you fix his hair, hold his face with gentle hands as you get into his personal space even more. your lips are soft against his, hesitant, unsure and still.

remus lifts his chin to kiss you. the kiss is liquified, you feel it in your veins. he opens his mouth, slowly building something between you. you welcome the kiss with your entire being. you've been wanting it for so long, it doesn't even feel real.

he sighs into the kiss. you are pulled to his chest, his arms holding you as if you'll escape. remus is selfish, he kept himself under control for far too long, he has everything now and he wants more. more of you, more of this kiss, more of sleep in your bed.

"dove-" he sounds sweet under you. you don't break the kiss, the grey of the evening clouds fill your room, and you kiss remus.

"please, remus." you whisper between two short breaths. please, don't think you don't deserve this. you deserve everything. all the best of things.

this time remus knows he has to believe you.

you kiss his chin. the curve of his jawline fits snugly between your lips, he closes his eyes. is this how it's gonna be from now on? he lets you love him the way you want, do anything you want to him.

"we could have this before." you say as you brush your lips on his neck. his heart beats faster under your palm. you kiss the softest skin right there and he tilts his head back.

"i'm sorry." he apologises. it's a genuine apology. sorry for not seeing himself worthy of affection. sorry for making you wait. sorry for being so lost in his head.

"it's okay." you tell him once more this evening. "we still have time."

remus relaxes visibly. his fingers are wrapped around yours. you kiss his collarbone under the fabric of his shirt and he makes a little sound for you. nothing can be compared to this. to be loved by you.

"can i- can i make you a cup of coffee?" he offers. your eyes meet, you press your lips on his before nodding.

knowing he won't leave this time, you sit on your messy bed. remus' warmth lingers. you smile, lovesick and giddy, you need some fresh air.

only in your tank top and sleeping shorts now, you try to relieve your flushed body by opening the window. it's almost five in the evening, the grey clouds greet you with a soft breeze. you sit by the window as you wait for remus.

he comes back with two cups of coffee in his hands. his jeans hang low on his waist, his eyes are so clear. he puts the coffee cups on the tiny table you have. taking a sip from his cup, he reaches for his pocket to get a cigarette.

"you played with my heart rhytm there, you know?" he smirks. it's a boyish smirk and you are charmed forever. "gotta calm myself down."

"with coffee and cigarettes?" you get closer. he takes a long drag.

"we all have our ways."

you sit on his lap, he holds you away from the smoke and close to his chest. fitting like two puzzle pieces, you wait for your coffee to get a little cold to take a sip.

when remus finishes his smoking, he holds your waist with both hands. he looks at your face, he stares, every detail he gets to love freely from now on. your lips curl up nicely for him. he presses you to himself, your lips collide with his neck.

this time, though, he has a different plan. he cups the back of your head gently and gives you a kiss on the chin. you tilt your neck back, he puts his lips on your pulse point. the wind strokes your bare skin. remus licks a thin line on your collarbone before kissing it entirely.

"so soft." he whispers. "i can't believe you're mine."

he brushes his lips on your chest. your legs clench on either side of his thighs. "i've been yours for a very long time." you manage to say.

"i know." he knows alright. "i'm sorry for being a coward."

countless kisses on your skin to atone his sins. your core is pressed tight against him, you feel like you're melting. the fabrics are thin, he's so close. you watch the clouds through a pair of hazy eyes.

"let me have this for now." he pleads. he's almost collapsing, stimulated and he wants to enjoy it, to get lost in those longing minutes. he can't have everything in the same hour.

"just this?" you ask, breathless. remus puts his face on your chest as you pull him in for a hug.

"just this."

for now, it's enough.

[corkinavoid]

Thank you, @aceinacorner, for this gem:

You are the inspiration for

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 3]

[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]

Duke narrows his eyes.

He swears Tim was not in the Cave just five seconds ago, and yet, in the brief moment when Duke wasn't looking, he just materialized out of motherfucking aether. Smelling like Chinese food and holding a chicken skewer that looks so good that Duke's mouth waters.

"Can I have a piece?" He asks, the divine smell of food overriding the urge to ask 'where did you get it' or 'how did you get here'.

Tim nods, smiles, and hands Duke the whole skewer before going for the elevator.

Is it Duke's hallucination, or is he really humming something as he goes?.. Actually, that doesn't matter. The chicken tastes even better than it smells, and Duke is perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut in exchange for food.

You don't talk with your mouth full, after all.

~☆~

Cass watches Tim over the table. She hasn't heard him coming into the dinner room - no steps in the hall, no rustle of clothing or breathing. It's like the boy has somehow appeared right in front of the door out of nowhere before entering.

What's more, he seems obviously not hungry, picking at his food with an absent, if a bit dreamy, expression. Granted, Tim always picks at his food, but Cass can see the difference between 'Tim's mind is busy with a new case and therefore too distracted to eat' and 'Tim already had dinner elsewhere and is too full to eat now'.

The bags under his eyes are also not as dark as they usually are. Come to think of it, Cass hasn't seen him in a bad mood for a few weeks now, which shouldn't really be that strange, but it's Tim. The smallest of inconveniences can put him in a bad mood.

Tim notices her looking and raises an eyebrow.

Cass blinks and goes back to her plate. Whatever is keeping her brother happy, it deserves her full approval.

~☆~

Jason is... not so sure as to what is happening.

He did notice that Tim was really chill lately, but this is going a bit overboard.

"Did you spike it with arsenic, Replacement?" He asks, suspiciously looking the offered cup of coffee over without taking it. Tim - surprisingly, actually - doesn't react to the nickname in the slightest, instead giving Jason a deadpan look. Then, he brings the cup up to his mouth, takes a sip, and hands it back again.

Okay, well, that proves no arsenic, at least. It's still very weird. Tim doesn't just buy coffee for people, and he especially doesn't buy coffee for Jason.

"Am I going to owe you something for it, or what?" He asks, slowly reaching for the cup. Tim sighs.

"No. It's just a drink - my boyfriend loves it, and I think you'd like it as well," he explains with a shrug, and Jason is honestly too befuddled to ask about anything. Including the boyfriend part.

No, but since when does Timbers have a boyfriend? He sure hadn't mentioned anything about it to any of the others.

The drink turns out to be not coffee but something else, tangy and thick, and when Jason takes the lid off, it's green like Mountain Dew.

It does taste great, though, and later Jason considers asking Tim for another one. He hadn't had anything better in ages.

~☆~

Damian strikes through the last one of the training holograms, breathing heavily. And yet, just as the 'simulation complete' message pops up in the air, he hears a step behind him.

He turns around faster than a lightning, and-

Finds Timothy's neck at the tip of his katana, with his hands up in surrender.

"What are you doing here?" Damian sneers, lowering his weapon, and Tim swallows. Not because of surprise or fear, though, he clearly had some half chewed up food in his mouth.

"Inaccurate drop off," he says, looking Damian straight in the eyes, "I was aiming for the main floor."

He smells of Indian food and spices, and Damian almost sneezes.

"What do you mean 'aiming'?" He demands, but Drake just waves him off, heading towards the elevator up.

"No worries, I'll do better next time," he shoots a smile over his shoulder, "See you on patrol!" And with that, the elevator doors close after him, leaving Damian alone.

Drake has always been strange, but this is too much even for him.

Not that it's Damian's business. He huffs and starts the simulation over again.

~☆~

If Dick didn't witness it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. Alas, he did, and even though the swirling green vortex has already disappeared like it was never there, Tim, whom the strange portal just spat out on the floor of the Cave, is still here.

"What the fuck was that?" He nearly yells, and Tim looks up, a face of perfect innocence.

"What was what?" He returns the question, and Dick can't find the words to explain, so he just wildly gestures to the place where the portal has been less than five seconds ago. Tim blinks, "Oh, that. That was my date."

Dick chokes on his breath.

"Your date?" He parrots, hoarse and breathless, and Tim nods, like there's not a single thing wrong with anything that has just happened. "Since when do you go on dates? Wait, I thought you were engaged, you said it was cheating to date anyone else, even if you didn't know the spouse, you said-" he cuts himself off, feeling his own face slowly falling and his stomach sinking down in horror. "No. No, don't tell me."

But the shit-eating grin on Tim's face is already proof enough.

Dick clears his throat. Takes a deep breath.

Seeing that Tim is still in one piece, and, well, that he did just casually come out of a magic portal in the middle of the Cave, it's probably safe to say that it's not the first time.

And, judging by the mirth in Tim's grin, it's also safe to say he's been rather enjoying it.

Dick releases one long, loud breath and forces a smile on his face as well.

"So, how is it?" He asks, trying in vain to sound light-hearted, not suspicious. Tim's smile gets wider, and there's a glint of excitement in his eyes now, which Dick considers a good thing, all in all.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

~☆~

Bonus Scene (that somehow turned out longer than I planned)

~☆~

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asks when all the rest of his kids are already seated around the table for breakfast.

"At Danny's, probably," Steph shrugs before digging into the waffles on her plate. Bruce frowns.

"Danny's?" He asks. He hasn't heard that name before. Is that a friend of Tim's?

"Drake's paramour," Damian clarifies, not bothering to look up from his own food, and Bruce's mind comes to a screeching halt. He blinks stupidly, looking around the table and sincerely hoping it is some sort of a prank, but Cass smiles and nods, and Dick has an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, and Duke is huffing a snort of laughter at him for it.

"Since when-" Bruce starts, but he is suddenly cut off by a glowing circle that appears just a few feet away from them all.

It grows quickly, morphing into a vortex, a green and ominous tear in reality big enough for a person to walk through, hanging in the air a few inches over the ground. The space around it feels staticky somehow, and the color is too bright to look at directly, and it definitely doesn't belong to their dining room. But before Bruce is able to say another word or do anything at all, Tim steps out of it, his hair and clothes ruffled.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters upon seeing them all, and turns around, sticking his head into the vortex just as it starts to close. The vortex pauses.

Bruce is almost too stunned to move.

His kids don't share the sentiment, though, most of them not paying the portal any attention at all. Bruce would have reprimanded them for the poor awareness of their surroundings if he didn't notice how Damian simply glanced up at it before going back to his food.

They saw the portal. They just didn't deem it dangerous. For some reason.

Tim's face comes back out, and he turns to Bruce. His expression looks different than before: a bit smug, a little mischievous, and just a tad bit nervous.

Then, another head pops up through the surface of the portal. A boy - or at least they look like a boy - with snow white hair that floats in the air and bright, almost neon blue eyes. His skin is far too pale for him to be human, and- he has freckles that look like constellations.

For some reason, that's the part that makes Bruce finally resign to the fact that this is just how his life is. With breakfasts interrupted by green portals and otherworldly boyfriends - because who else might it be, really - before he even had his morning coffee.

"Hi!" Said otherworldly boyfriend grins and waves his hand. "I'm Danny, Tim's fiance," he introduces himself, and Bruce conjures the last scraps of his scattered mind to smile and nod back.

"Good morning, Danny. I'm Bruce." He has no idea what else to say; it seems like a bit late for shovel talk, but a bit early for welcoming speech.

"Would Young Master Danny care to join us for breakfast?" Alfred's calm, but still slightly amused voice comes from the door. Bruce turns to look at the butler with a sense of exasperation - is he really the last one to learn anything in this house? - but the man seems... well, not surprised, at least not on the surface. But his grip on the pitcher of orange juice is just a little too tense for him to have been in the know all along.

Danny turns to him and smiles nicely - his teeth are also way too sharp for a human - before shaking his head, "No, sorry, I was just dropping Tim off."

"For God's sake," Tim rolls his eyes, "Just put on some pants and come out, I refuse to suffer through this alone."

Dick chokes on his toast. Steph gasps, her eyes snapping between Tim and Danny in delight. Cass snorts and kicks her under the table. Damian groans.

"Spare me from the details of your personal life, Drake. Need I remind you that I am thirteen," he narrows his eyes.

The constellations on Danny's cheeks shine just a bit brighter, and Bruce has no idea what that is supposed to mean, but his guess is along the lines of embarrassment. Especially when the boy completes it with rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me that, at thirteen years old, you don't know what sex is?" Tim deadpans, running a hand through his hair in a useless effort to smooth it and taking his seat at the table. Dick's coughing fit comes back with renewed force.

"We didn't-" Danny starts, still kind of hovering midway through the portal, but Damian pays him little attention.

"I do. Yet, I prefer my mind free of the knowledge when it applies to you."

"I want all the details, though," Steph pipes up, looking at Danny from her seat, "Can you, like, sprout tentacles or something, because I know for a fact Tim likes that kind of-"

"Steph!" Tim yells at her, face red, and then turns to Danny, who suddenly has a very interested, if a bit mischievous, look on his face, "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, okay," Danny snorts and disappears back in the portal. Bruce half-expects it to close after him, but the vortex stays.

Which probably means the boy - the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, Eyes of the Universe - is going to be right back.

After he puts on some pants, supposedly.

Bruce watches Tim rub his face in frustration while Steph giggles and elbows him in the side, and sighs. This is so not how he expected this morning to be.

[a-b-riddle]

Part 2

Can't stop thinking about reader finally cutting them loose.

For three days there was nothing but radio silence. In those three days you had told yourself that it was a grace period. Time for Simon to cool off and realize how much of a bastard he was for saying all those things he obviously didn't mean. Johnny coming back over with a bouquet of flowers and endless apologies and cuddles.

Simon didn't apologize for his harsh words.

Johnny didn't call you later, as promised.

For three days you jumped at every single notification, silently hoping it was one of them. Any of them.

But it wasn't.

And you, unfortunately, got the answer to the question you had been asking yourself for months.

Did they still want this?

The answer was clear.

You didn't let their unofficial dismissal get to you. You still had shit to do. A life to get on to. A book signing to go to.

Jesus.

A book signing. A book you wrote. A book that was being published and released the day of the expo. You weren't expecting a huge line because this was your debut novel, but with the help of some ARC readers who had took to social media, there had been a bit of a storm brewing.

You had listened to John when he had mentioned writing under an alias. Don't know how crazy people are out there. They'd do anything to get close to you, Dove. Just better to protect yourself where you can. You almost hated yourself for listening to him now. Now you would just have to keep writing under your pen name.

You were getting ready to close up shop early when your phone finally pinged.

Kyle.

Fuck.

Of course it was Kyle. The one who hadn't treated you like you were constantly bothering him. Not the one who made you feel guilty for agreeing to your arrangement. Nor was he the one who fucked you and left you. No. He was just the one who just wasn't there.

Maybe that was just as bad.

What are you up to today?

That was it. Almost two weeks of radio silence and that's all he had to say? It just added more evidence that you were making the right call in ending this now. It had already carried on for too long.

You had two things on your to-do list and you wouldn't let Kyle's sudden reappearance deter you.

E-mail the publisher back.

Change the locks.

You didn't have the strength to face them again. If they groveled, it would be too easy to take them back. One against four wasn't much of a fair fight. And if they didn't care to fight for you... you don't know if you could survive it. Coming face-to-face with the proof that it didn't bother them to give you up even though it was killing you.

No. Cutting it off completely was the best thing to do.

So you didn't respond.

You left Kyle's text unanswered as you e-mailed the publisher back that everything was set for your flight on tomorrow morning. You would spend Thursday adjusting to the time difference and Friday you would rest up before the expo this weekend. She assured you that you would need to rest up your writing hand. Whatever that means.

You left Kyle read as you closed up shop several hours earlier than usual. You needed to drop off the bank deposit before you started on task number two.

You didn't bothering responding to Johnny when he had texted you when you were leaving the hardware store, purchase in hand. Asking if you were free Friday. Promising dinner. 'In or out. Your choice.'

It was almost second nature when you got home to pull up your phone. Ready to text one of them to see which one of them could come over and help.

Fixing a leaky sink? Nothing Johnny hasn't seen before. Need help moving furniture? John won't mind when you change your several times on what should go where. Kyle would always come in with take out the moment you mentioned you were hungry and whenever you felt like going for a walk when it was a bit too late in the evening, Simon was the first to volunteer as your personal guard dog.

But asking them to come and change the very lock you planned on using to keep them out seemed... counter productive, if not downright petty.

You were almost done with the lock when your phone sounded off. Only this time it wasn't a text. Someone was calling you.

You almost faltered when John's name came on your screen.

Fuck.

That almost got you.

You almost answered it.

Almost.

You clicked on the 'Sorry, I can't talk right now. Options, before finishing up your work.

And just like that, you were done. No help needed. You had changed the lock. Even adding on a deadbolt. Replacing the flimsy chain Simon had taunted you about. If someone wanted to get in here, that wouldn't stop them.

Well, now you didn't need to hear it anymore.

Not that you would really hear it again...

Your flight was in twelve hours. Although that seemed an ample amount of time you hadn't even begun to pack. You had luckily narrowed your outfits down, but now was the task of folding it nicely into your suitcase rather than just stuffing it in there.

On my way. We need to talk.

It was too late for talking. Three days too late. Several months too late.

The last message sent was four weeks ago. A new Thai place had opened up close to your apartment that you were wanting to try. All of them had given you excuses.

Not my taste, Dove.

Cannae do it tonight. Next weekend? Next weekend didn't happen either.

I can do tomorrow. Kyle ended up bailing. You forget the excuse he used.

Simon hadn't even bothered to reply.

The final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Almost two years wasted with nothing, but a broken heart to show for it. And the worst part is, they had all chipped away at your heart, leaving you to deal with the final blow that would shatter it.

Im sorry. I can’t do this with you anymore. wish you all the best.

Your fingers made quick work in blocking their numbers. It was best. If they wanted to reach you, they couldn't. On the other side of the coin, if they didn't care to reply, you wouldn't spend countless hours crying over the fact that none of them had been affected the same way you had.

You would deal with getting them their belongings that they had left behind another time. You had big things, great things happening for you. You were cutting your loses. You were cutting them loose.

You just hoped you didn’t regret it.